#i love u one eye pete

[cottaegecore]

thinking about one eye pete. i love you

[rowrowronnie]

soldier and his buddies

[sacharinee]

pairing: bf!peter x reader

synopsis: peter likes having you close to him. all the time

wc: 630 ish

a/n: surprise! another one oops. im rlly bored can u tell? cuddling prompt with peter. reader is a cheeky and annoying lil shit. one office reference. i saw a tiktok about this a long time ago and thought this would be a cute idea to write about. also does anyone know how cuddling works tho?? if ur laying on ur side, do u just lay on top of the arm ur crushing on? under a pillow? idk lol. anyways i hope u like :D

there's an ache settling in your right side that wakes you up from your sweet slumber. your head lays atop peter’s soft chest, his steady heartbeat against your ears. it was what lulled you to sleep in the first place. but with peter’s body practically being your own personal heater, the warm air filling the room, and the prominent soreness resting on your side, you began to feel uncomfortable.

“pete,” you whisper.

peter is entirely unfazed. his hold on you is strong. his face is towards you, mouth slightly ajar, letting out the softest of snores and drool out the corner of his mouth. although you love your cuddles with peter, you think he could actually suffocate you in your sleep. the boy loved to sleep, especially on top of you.

your limbs are tangled together. your left leg slung around his waist, arms around his torso, while his buff arms embrace your shoulders protectively.

ever so slightly, you begin to move your leg, retreating it back to your side as you push against his body and establish a more comfortable position. you snuggle further into peter as sleep wins you over once again.

it only lasts for a second when you wake from your boyfriend’s murmurs, he seems to talk in his sleep when he whispers your name. he huffs loudly and smacks his lips a couple of times with his brows furrowed. you feel his warm hand reach for the back of your knee to bring it over his crotch.

a confused look paints your face as you gaze up toward him. he’s asleep as dead. did he really just do that? you almost laugh out loud. his quirky behavior never fails to amuse you and has your stomach going in flips. he just wants you close to him. :(

but you think you’re funny, so you test out that theory one more time, this time blatantly stripping your leg away from him.

this gets a reaction out of peter. he seems to wake when he gusts an impatient breath, “no” and grabs your knee again, forcefully holding it against him.

in disbelief, you’re unable to contain your burst of laughter as you hold yourself up with one arm and stare at him wide-eyed, “what is wrong with you?”

“ph’shhh” peter knits his brows together, his eyes shut tight with a cute pout, as he blindly brings a hand to your face and gently shoves your head back against your pillow.

“peter-” “shut up.” he feels you lick the palm of his hand, “yuck,” but he doesn’t care to move it away from you. it’s only when you swat his hand away and settle back down against him to give him peace of mind. only for a moment, though. you have fun annoying peter, almost like a hobby. he’s halfway asleep when he feels you aggressively snatch your leg away from his hold.

“y/n!” peter groans, “stop it.” this time, your boyfriend pushes you on top of him, your entire body weight lays over his while he keeps a tight grasp on you, making sure to keep your leg over his waist and your head upon his chest.

his irritation riles you up, and you’re giggling through it all.

peter’s not having it though, not at all. he heaves another deep breath through his mouth, with the same grumpy look on his face, “why are you the way you are?”

you gasp, “me?!” “yes, you.”

not done yet, you flick his forehead, “you know, you’re so annoying sometimes, pete.”

he scoffs, “oh yea?”

“yea. a total pain in the-”

peter shoves his hand against your face and into his chest one last time, “ass.”

you decided you’ve had your fun but you’re too delighted to go back to sleep. too delighted to know that the boy you love and cherish always wants to be impossibly close to you all the time, conscious or not.

[luveline]

would you be in the mood to write something for peter parker x reader?? it’s been a while since i’ve read anything new for him and i’m missing my boy :( maybe something about things getting heated while making out with peter but he knows reader isn’t ready to go any farther so he has to stop them, and then maybe reader feels guilty for not being ready bc they feel like they’re stringing him along? a good mix of (semi)smut & fluff & angst haha. thank u angel i love u <3

ty for requesting, love u <3 fem!reader, 1k

cw suggestive content

“Is that okay?” he whispers. 

You’re nearly too busy trying to kiss him to whisper back. “Yeah, Peter, just–” Fully too busy. 

Peter enjoys being on top of you for two reasons; the first, the most imperative in the moment, is because it flicks a switch in your mind that has you all flustered and breathless under his touch, your chest heaving something sorry and your hands a frenetic back-and-forth between roaming and limp on his back; and the second, his guilty pleasure, is that he’s in an optimal position to slide his knee between your thighs and listen for your breathless sigh. 

He says your name between kisses to catch your attention, finds he can’t quite get it as your mouth closes up on his and your spit wets his lips. Your hand wanders under his shirt. 

Peter has been worse than shirtless around you, a consequence of his strange after-classes hobby, but he’s not so sure you’re ready to peel him out of it. Your fingers ride up his spine. 

He fishes your hand from behind him to hold it above your head. 

“Hey,” he says, pulling back, your eyes lit and aligned with one another, the brightest light in the room. It feels wrong to speak into the dark like this, disrupting your whispers and your quick breathing. “You don’t wanna do that.” 

“I do,” you say. He’s no genius, but he sees the wobble of your lashes for what it is, sudden regret. 

“It’s okay, bub. We got too heavy too fast,” he laughs. 

You bite the inside of your lip as he sits up. It’s his fault, he shouldn’t have kissed you like that, definitely shouldn’t have let his leg slide up against you, what was he thinking? He’s kissed you so hard your lips are swollen. 

You use the flats of your palms to clamber up against the headboard. Your heart is a thudding he can’t ignore, triply loud, and his own pulse is rocketing too. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“No, that’s okay,” —he reaches for the hem of your sweatpants to tug them back over your hip and stomach— “I was bearing down on you, I shouldn’t have– I–” Peter Parker levels of stuttering occur, to which he can’t subject himself, hiding his face in his hands. 

There’s a small silence. Peter attempts to calm down. Your heart rate slowly drops. 

“I really am sorry, Pete.” 

His neck cricks as he lifts his head. “What?” He lets his legs fall to the side of the bed and shuffles up to the top to see you clearly, squishing the back of your thigh where your legs are up to his hip. “Come on, what do you have to be sorry for?” 

“I’m leading you on and stuff. Not cool.” 

“What? What are you talking about? I started it.” 

“I was giving it just as good as I was getting it,” you say with a regretful smile. “You’re just such a great kisser–”

“Don’t try and distract me, it’s working,” he teases. More seriously, he puts his hand on your knee, thumb pressing to the soft crease underneath it. 

“I shouldn’t kiss you like that if I’m not ready for it.” 

“Why not? You can kiss me whatever way you like, it doesn’t have to lead to anything.” 

“I’m winding you up. Boys don’t like that.” 

“I love it,” he says, dropping his chin to his hand to speak to you from just below your eye line. “I love everything you do, I love kissing you, it doesn’t mean you have to be ready for something else.” 

You don’t accept his reassurances as quickly as he’d like, leaning back, the rising valley of your chest and tummy two pretty not to look at even as something serious transpires. He adores you, your every hill and curve and rigid line, all of it, and he’d love to fuck you but there’s no rush. What do you need to rush for? Peter’s sure it’ll be just as much fun a few months down the line as it would’ve been tonight, but it’ll be perfect then, because you’ll be ready then. 

“Who cares what boys like anyways?” he mumbles, kissing your kneecap appreciatively. 

“I just don’t wanna mess it up, Pete. I really like you.” 

“You can’t mess it up, it’s not like that, we’re not like that. You mean a whole lot more to me than that,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze. You meet his eyes with less shyness now, the beginnings of a smile like twitches at the corners of your mouth. “I like you more than you like me, anyways. You can string me along. String me up, if you want.” 

“String you up where?” you ask with a laugh. 

“From that statue on ESU?” 

“What? How would I do that?” 

“Get Spider-Man to help you.” 

You pull the leg he isn’t leaning on up toward your stomach, knee rubbing along the inside of your opposite thigh, the last trace of regret. “You’re sure you don’t care?” 

“Don’t care, don’t mind, just want you to be happy.” He kisses your knee. “I thought you’d know that by now.” 

You brace your face in both hands, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I know when you do that thing to me. How about you keep your legs away from my legs for a little while?” 

Peter smiles like an idiot, hiding his eyes in your knee and his mouth behind your calf. He doesn’t mind being honest, but you’re making him nervous flirting like that and he isn’t allowed to kiss you again tonight. “I– I can do that. No leg stuff.” He leans away from you suddenly. “God, no leg stuff. You’re beautiful, I wish you didn’t worry about me.” 

“I’ll try not to, Pete.”  

[im-sleepdeprived]

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again. 

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him.  The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away. 

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion. 

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged. 

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad. 

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch. 

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it. 

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved. 

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.” 

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place. 

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her. 

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already. 

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything. 

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book. 

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving. 

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. 

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you. 

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together. 

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more. 

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter. 

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten. 

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge. 

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly. 

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe. 

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response. 

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird. 

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail. 

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay.  He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start. 

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that. 

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away. 

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred. 

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay. 

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again. 

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault. 

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated. 

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. 

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you. 

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe. 

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit. 

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home. 

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away. 

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer. 

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead. 

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face. 

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!” 

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again. 

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. 

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging. 

[prongsiepotter]

down bad | j. potter

summary: you're so in love with james potter but he's a little too good at giving you mixed signals that it might actually ruin you

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: angst, a little fluff if u squint, and so much longing & yearning. omg so much of it

a/n: i am unfortunately completely obsessed with taylor swift's new album, so everything i'll write in the near future will be based on one of the ttpd songs (yey!) & this one's based on 'down bad.' feel free to send requests if u want pick the next song for me x

──────── 𑁍︎ ‧₊°

"So he just said no?" Mary all but hisses. Marlene shushes her, glancing around the classroom before leaning down from where she's sitting on your desk.

"Are you sure it didn't mean something else?" She rests her hand on yours. "Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't…he just wouldn't, right?" You smile weakly at her, then shake your head. She squeezes your hand.

"The note was pretty clear," you say with a soft sigh. The sentence rolls off your tongue with unhidden bitterness. "Sorry, can't. Need to catch up on some assignments."

You would show it to them, so they could see for themselves and maybe divert their sympathetic gazes from you. But you had set it on fire right after reading it, just like the other two notes friendly rejecting you. You still aren't sure why you did it. After all, you did just tell Mary and Marlene that you're fine. At least you will be. You should not be this devastated over some guy.

Even if that guy is James Potter.

James who is now strolling into the room with his mates, looking as invincible and full of life as he always has and always will.

Quickly, you force a smile at the girls and pull out the chair next to you. Marlene, bless her, gets the hint and lightly shoves Mary's shoulder to have her take the seat. You're going through your book bag, pulling out your inkwell when four bodies make their way past your desk.

"Ladies," comes Sirius cheerfully loud voice as he bows at the waist because, of course, he does. Peter and Remus aren't as dramatic with their greetings. The latter, however, does take the time to slow down in front of you until you look up and return his kind smile. Belatedly, you realise perhaps you shouldn't have done that. You lock eyes with James, who's right behind him.

He sends you an easy smile and a wink. Like he's letting you in on another one of his rare secrets. You're not sure if you're smiling back, but it's almost a given that you are.

He takes his seat behind you, laughing blithely at a joke Pete just told, and it's all so painfully charming that you want to die. You fear he will always make you feel like this. Like you're somehow the chosen one. It's such a sickening feeling, you can't help but whip around and look at Mary, pleadingly. Though, you're not sure what you're pleading for anymore.

She shoots you another unbearably sympathetic smile, looking like she's close to cooing at you. You sigh, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.

You can't help but think how easy it would be to just cry right here. It's embarrassing to admit, but you've done it plenty of times over the weekend after you had seen James out at Hogsmeade with the others. Miserably, you had realised that he was, in fact, not too busy working on his assignments. He just didn't want to spend time with you.

You almost let out a sob.

A hand rubs your back and you know it can only be Mary, but you let yourself believe that it's the universe consoling you, as if to say there, there because there's nothing fair about this and she knows it, but there's nothing she can do it about now, can she?

History of Magic passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're in the library, pouring all of yourself into an essay that you normally couldn't have cared less for. But you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep yourself busy. You know your thoughts will stray the moment you're lying quietly in bed anyway, awaiting another sleepless night.

You finish the sentence and look up, satisfied with your work. Apparently it's been a while since you've torn your gaze away from the parchment before you, seeing how stiff your neck is. You knead at the uncomfortable knot in your shoulder while looking around the library. It's relatively full today with every other seat being taken.

Which makes it all the more irritating when your gaze snatches on a figure sat at the other table right across from you. He's not even looking up, head bent over a book, but you would recognise that mop of unruly dark curls anywhere. James must've seen you when he came in, but that might have just been your hopeful self speaking.

Begrudgingly, you resume your writing and it takes everything in you not to look up every few minutes. To glimpse the slight furrow in his brows and the small pout of his lips as he's carefully reading every paragraph. You know he's likely looking for something to prepare for a prank. Normally, you would simply go over and ask him what he's up to. You know he'd happily tell you. But you're glad to have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left that keeps you rooted in your spot.

Seemingly not enough though since all you can think about is that there's no way he doesn't know that you're right there. It really does make you want to bang your head against the table. Maybe that would finally catch James' attention.

Pathetically, you glance at him only to notice that he's packing his things to leave. The tip of your feather goes back to the parchment so fast, it almost pierces it. You haven't got a clue what you're writing, too busy tracking James' movements from the corner of your eyes.

You watch him stand up, walking down the length of his table towards the door down the hall on his right. Then he stops. You hold your breath. James seemingly hesitates before fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He turns left and walks towards you. You're staring at your hand as it writes illegible words, completely out of your control, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey," James whispers when you look up, giving you a familiar grin and small wave. It's an innocent gesture, sweet, but there's almost something hostile about this encounter. Like you have no choice but to let him occupy every single one of your senses. You stare up at him, a matching smile sweeping over your lips before you can think better of it.

That's when you notice the scarf he's wearing and its frizzled ends. It's yours. You know it is.

Did he not give it back to you after one of your nights out together on the stands? After you had flown on your brooms, so close to the sea of stars that you could've dipped your fingertips in them? You could almost hear the echoes of your windblown laughters as the memory pushes itself into the foreground of your mind.

James is sitting still, rosy-cheeked, watching you with curious eyes while you babble on about the Leo constellation. He had just told you that you could do whatever you want to him—another quite maddening thing to casually say to someone—and now he's apparently keen on staying true to his word by letting you wrap your scarf around his neck.

It took some convincing before he'd finally accepted it from you. You promised that you wouldn't be cold with your high collared sweater, but James only gave in when you had accepted his wool hat in exchange.

He had carefully put it on you, smoothing down your hair and pulling out some loose strands to frame your face, mumbling something about how much lovelier his hat looked on you than on him. You told yourself that he surely must've known what it did to you when his knuckles brushed your cheeks. Right? Surely.

James pokes your side, chuckling, as if he sensed that your mind was drifting elsewhere. He cracks another joke, saying that if you were the one to teach him Astronomy, he might actually pay attention in class. He says it like it's a deal and you feel inclined to do whatever it takes to hold up your side of the bargain.

You laugh helplessly, feeling drunk on a little bit of everything; the stars above, James' gentle laughter, the familiar smell of broom wax and crisp winter air. This must be cosmic love, you think to yourself. Your breath clouds in front of you, becoming one with his. All the while, you're too aware of James' shoulder bumping into you, his leg pressed against yours. There's no one out here but you two.

You have all the room in the world, but James chose to sit this close to you. Probably close enough for him to hear your heart pounding. Did he do it for a reason? You'd love to know.

"You don't need me to pay attention in Astronomy," you find yourself saying in response, something daring laced in the drawl of your voice. His eyes flash, bright and a bit wild. It's the same look he gets after you challenge him to a race on your brooms. His grin grows wide, carefree, and oh so lovely.

"Please." His face comes impossibly closer and you lean in without another thought, eager to take whatever it is James will give you. You feel his breath on your lips.

"I will always need you, Y/N."

Somehow he makes it sound genuine.

Then he winks and leaves you a horrid, forsaken mess. Somehow he makes that feel like a nice gesture too.

Incredulously, you stare at him as he leans back, elbows resting on the seats behind him. James Potter, you think weakly, what are you doing to me? Not for the first time you ponder what you would do if you can't have him. You almost double over from the striking pain in your chest.

Then he points out another constellation and you nearly forget all about yourself. He's good at that. Never ceasing to show you that the world is bigger than the two of you. Making you forget and remember that you might be in love. Because what if you were in love?

James cups the back of his neck, then points towards the door of the library, almost shyly letting you know that he's leaving. You nod slowly, still dazed. A small smile crosses his lips before you watch him round the corner, his back disappearing from your sight.

You blink, letting out a ragged breath. You feel like you got the wind knocked out of you. Like you just lost your twin. Someone who knows you like no one else ever will. Someone who might just be your better half. Someone who sometimes makes you feel like they want nothing to do with you.

It's ridiculous, you think bleakly to yourself, you're so down bad.

And James Potter makes it feel like a curse and a blessing.

[otherone12]

Hi, I'm obsessed with the way you write your stories and I'd like to ask for a request, it's the first time I've done one but I love your stories. I'd like to ask you for one about basement gee x reader (the plot doesn't matter) but I'd like something smut (of course one where both are of legal age) but I'd like to see gerard as someone who is geeky and is in love (somewhat sickly) with the reader

I'm sorry if it's weird, and also English is not my first language so I'm sorry if the wording of the message is bad.

I’m Awkward, Not Dangerous!

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

Hi!!! Omg, I'm glad you like my fics <3 !!! And also thanks for requesting!! I really loved the idea!! Well, I tried to make his nerdy side very visible, mainly by making him very weird in terms of social relationships and some geek references along in the story. Ngl, I had to write this one like three times, 'cause was never good enought, but I think it's nice now lol. I hope you like it! (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

(If u have some suggestion, idea, or request, just drop it! )

Summary: It suppoused to be another day, but things turned a different when Gerard invite you to watch a movie in his basement, let's just say he REALLY likes you, and you discovered this in the creepy way possible. (I'm terrible at writing summaries)

- Word Count: 3.000

- Warnings: afab SMUT, awkward gerard.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

School sucks, our senior year was supposed to be a little funnier, right? Unfortunately, that's not what's happening, but it's infinitely better when they're with me.

Sometimes we spent entire periods outside the classroom, just chatting about anything and listening to our favorite bands, while we smoke behind the bleachers.

This was another one of those afternoons, where one less math lesson didn't make any difference, and it seemed much more interesting to hear Frank make jokes about someone's clothes. Followed by Mikey update us on the latest gigs in town, or Ray making insightful comments on every topic that comes up.

Sometimes, Gerard talks about the backstories of the heroes he created, so we spend hours thinking of outfits and some scenes that might be cool. Is really cute when he gets all excited talking about things he likes.

After a while, the conversation starts to wind down. Frank is scrolling through his phone, muttering something about needing to practice with his band. Mikey checks the time and mentions that his work shift was going to start. Ray says he has to study for some test he has tomorrow, and heads out first, leaving the rest of us behind with a lazy wave.

- Guess that’s it for me, folks. - Frank said, getting up - if I miss one more essay they'll look for another guitarist.

- I think I'll go too - Mikey stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his backpack, making his way to the video store - but I'll probably be home by 9pm… maybe later if Pete and I go drink something after the shift.

Within minutes, it’s just Gerard and I.

He’s sitting a little awkwardly, tucking strands of hair behind the ear, like he’s waiting for the right moment to say something. It’s sweet how shy he gets sometimes, especially when the others aren’t around to drown out the silence. There’s always something a little different about him when it’s just the two of us.

- So, uh…- He cleared his throat. - Do you... wanna come over? I was gonna watch that new horror movie I told you about. The really bad one with the cheesy practical effects…

His voice was low, and he blinked with his beautiful hazel eyes, pleading. After a few seconds, he gave a shy, hopeful smile.

- I mean, only if you’re not busy or anything…

- Nope, I’m totally free. - I smiled at him, excited to watch the movie with him.

The walk to Gerard’s house is filled with easy conversation. He talks about the movie, rambling about the director’s other films, his company was really nice, actually. Every now and then, my shoulder brushes his, and I swear I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. Wasn’t something bothering, but it’s kinda… weird?

When we finally reach Gerard’s place, he fumbled with his keys at the front door, a little too eager.

- My parents aren’t home… - He said, being a bit surprised - Well, I'm gonna fix the things in my room in the basement… Can you wait a minute?

he scratched the back of his neck, apparently nervous, so I let out a smile in an attempt to comfort him. I understand that since we hadn't arranged it beforehand, he didn't have time to prepare or anything.

- Sure!

- I’ll be right back - Gerard rushed to his basement, and I stayed in the living room of Way’s house.

Looking around, I saw family pictures, some paints on the wall, books, a pretty carpet… It was a pretty house. Wasn’t long before Gerard returned from the basement, nodding and beckoning me to follow.

Wasn’t the first time I went to his basement, but I was never alone with him.

It’s cluttered but cozy, just like the other times: comics spread out on his bed, action figures on shelves, and posters of old movies plastered along the walls. His bed was covered with a batman sheet, and he gestures toward it with an awkward smile.

- Make yourself comfortable. - Again, he rushed away, going to the kitchen - I’ll grab drinks.

I sat down, noticing the little details scattered everywhere. He even has a stack of DVDs, just waiting to be watched. It’s easy to see how much of himself Gerard has poured into this space, and somehow, that makes it feel intimate.

He came back with two cans of soda, handing me one as he flops onto the bed beside me. His knee bumped into mine, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed play on the remote, the movie starting with a dramatic, over-the-top horror intro.

As the lights dim and the movie flickers to life, I notice Gerard sneaking a glance my way. It’s quick, like he’s checking to see if I’m still there or if I’ve evaporated into thin air. He shifted in his seat, awkwardly pulling his hoodie sleeves over his hands.

I tried to focus on the screen, I really do, but out of nowhere, his hand brushes against mine. It was kind of an accidental touch, my heart raced, but I didn’t move it.

After some seconds of just the sound of the movie filling the room, Gerard cleaned his throat and took a deep breath, like he was trying to take courage to say something.

- Y’know… - I turned my attention to him - I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.

I Glance at him, and he’s looking at the TV like he’s afraid it might explode if he makes eye contact with me.

- Do what? - I asked, trying not to sound as jittery as I feel.

- Uh... spend time with just you. - He scratched the back of his neck, and his gaze moved from the tv to me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I defaulted to my nervous habit, fiddling with my bracelet, twisting it around my wrist like it holds the answer to every awkward situation. Gerard noticed, of course, because apparently, he has a PhD in Me Studies.

- You don’t have to be nervous, sugar.

“Sugar”? He never called me that way before. But he kept talking, like it wasn’t a big deal. I did not protest, I actually kinda liked it.

- You always mess with that bracelet when you’re nervous. - He said like it was something obvious - It’s... kinda cute.

I shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, only to realize: Gerard isn’t watching the movie. He’s watching me. And he’s terrible at being subtle about it.

Before I can process what’s happening, he slips his hand into mine, like a middle-schooler figuring out how to hold hands for the first time. His palm is warm, a little sweaty, okay, a lot of sweat, but weirdly... I didn’t mind.

It wasn't as if I didn't like him, maybe I really liked him too, I'd just never thought about it before. Back to the movie, my mind was filled with a million other things to think about, so I couldn't even focus on looking at the screen. My gaze traveled around the room, but something caught my eye: a small, familiar notebook lying half-tucked beneath a pile of DVDs on the coffee table really close to his bed.

The same notebook Gerard always carries with him at school, the one he’s always scribbling in during lunch or between classes. I couldn’t help myself to take advantage of Gerard's distraction, and I flipped it open. 

My eyes went wide and my heart skipped a beat when I saw what was inside that notebook. Pages and pages of photos of me. Some printed, others cut out from old Polaroids. All of them are candid shots, taken without my knowledge. There’s one of me smoking behind the bleachers, another of me laughing with Mikey, and several from school, walking to class, sitting at my desk, leaning against my locker.

Each one is accompanied by small, scribbled notes in Gerard’s messy handwriting. Things like “She looks so pretty here.” or “I wish this was just the two of us.” … Along with sketches of portraits, pieces of comics that meant something in our “relationship”. There were sketches of us together, drawn in different comic styles, one of us as Jedi, another as superheroes, and even one as cartoon vampires, all accompanied by little speech bubbles with inside jokes.

Every page flipped, I got even more shocked about the large amount of content he has there. Things from years ago, and the last things were from the last days.

- Hey... What are you looking at? - His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it now, a note of panic creeping in.

I glance up to see Gerard frozen in place, his hazel eyes wide with fear as he notices the notebook in your hands.

- W-where did you…? - He mumbled, turning bright red, embarrassed - Uh... I can explain! Wait, no, I mean- don't freak out... It’s... okay, it looks bad, but it’s not that bad.

He let go from my hand and got up, rubbing his hands together nervously. he began to pant, and his countenance indicated that he was desperately looking for an excuse.

- Well, it is exactly what it looks like! - I yell, turning back to the notebook, still shocked, analyzing every page.

He turned around, rubbing one of his hands over his face in a messy motion. Before long, he began to walk around the room in circles, while his shaky voice continued to speak.

- Oh God, I’m gonna die. Yep. This is how I die. - he murmured to himself, before facing me again - Just bury me under these comics.

Before i could say anything, he blurts:

- Okay, look… it’s not like I’m a total creep, okay? I-I just... thought you looked cool... like, really cool, and, um - The words rushed out of his mouth, as if he had stopped thinking and was just throwing anything to ease the situation -… okay, I might have taken some pictures without asking… b-but it’s not like ‘weird’ weird! It’s... more... uh... admiration?

I couldn't hide my look of confusion. At the same time as I wanted to get out of there, I didn't want to. It was obviously strange, but at the same time it was adorable the way he noticed me. The things he wrote in that notebook said so much more than I could have imagined he felt. Not giving me time to think about what to say, he kept going.

- I thought, y'know, maybe if I... cataloged- no, wait, bad word… uh, recorded...? - He groans - I swear I sound less creepy in my head.

- Look, I was gonna tell you... - He insists, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. - I mean, not like this, obviously. 

He catched my confused expression and groans again.

-Ugh, you probably think I’m a total loser now.

The more he spoke, the less frightening the situation became and the cuter he seemed to me. So I stood up, in a failed attempt to calm him down, but the result was the complete opposite.

- Wait! Please don’t go. I-I know this is... a lot. But I promise I’m not some psycho. - He pauses, then adds, - Like, I’m awkward, not dangerous! 

I don't know where that feeling came from. Maybe it's always been there. I wanted to hug him, kiss him and tell him that it was fine, that I knew he wasn’t a psycho. 

 - Okay, okay! I know I’m weird, but... don’t leave me hanging here. Please. I really... like you. - the statement caught me off guard. it's not as if it wasn't obvious, but I wasn't prepared.  -  Like, more than I ever thought possible.

The way he looks at me, a perfect mix of nervous wreck and hopeful puppy is strangely endearing. Something about his awkward honesty makes it impossible to walk away. So I finally react, letting a grin escape from the corner of my lip. 

- You’re such a dork, Gee. - I chuckled, and his eyes opened wide.

- W-wait, does that mean…? - A confused happiness made Gerard freeze and look directly at me. 

-Yeah. - I approached him, smiling and rolling my eyes - I think I like you too, you idiot.

-Oh my God… - his hazel eyes glowed and a huge smile formed in his pink lips - this is like one of those rom-coms where the nerd actually wins?!

I shook my head, laughing at his words. He’s still red-faced and fumbling, but it’s clear now: he’s just a lovable, geeky mess who adores me in his own awkward way.

- No pressure or anything, but, uh... If we were in a romance movie, this would be the part where the two leads kiss.

I chuckled and my lips reached his. The warm sensation filled my body, the kiss was sloppy and desperate, felt like something he was holding for too long, something he couldn’t deal with anymore. His hands held my waist, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He let out a soft moan and pulled back only to whisper:

- This feels like... you know... that scene in Return of the Jedi when-

- Gerard, - I interrupted, laughing. - Less Star Wars and more kissing, please.

- Right, yeah, sorry. - He turned bright red.

Gerard catched my lips again, deeper this time, with a bit more confidence. His hand slid to my waist, thumb brushing lazy circles against my skin, and his tongue explored my mouth, while he laid me down on his bed. His lips trailing down to my neck, scattering kisses that made my whole body buzz.

-You smell amazing. Like... that forest level in that one game. You know, the one where…

He trailed off, realizing how silly it sounded, but the look on his face was too earnest to be embarrassed.

- You are such a dork. - I laughed again, running my fingers through his messy hair. 

- Yeah, but I’m your dork, - he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone.

His touch was gentle but hungry, as if each kiss, each brush of his fingers, was an apology for all the moments he’d spent longing for this. 

When he slid his hands under my shirt, he paused, looking at me with wide, nervous eyes. 

- Is this... okay? - he asked, shyly. The insecurity in his tone of voice was adorable, no more so than the sparkle in his eyes as he saw me give him a nod, lifting my arms so he could pull the shirt over my head. His gaze lingered on me, admiration glowing in his eyes. - Wow... You’re so -

- Gerard.-  I touched his face, guiding him back down for another kiss. - You’re doing fine.

He smiled, clearly relieved, and kissed me again, this time more eagerly. His hands, still trembling slightly, found their way to the button of my jeans. He fumbled for a moment, biting his lip in concentration. 

Once my jeans were off, he took a moment to just look at me, his hands resting on my hips as if grounding himself. 

- I don’t want to mess this up -  he whispered. 

- You’re not messing anything up, Gee..- i calmed him, brushing a thumb over his flushed cheek - Just... keep going

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed me again, his hands moving with a little more certainty now, sliding beneath my bra to touch bare skin. I gasped, arching into his touch, and he let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

When he finally got out of his clothes, struggling with his belt in the process,

 -  Stupid thing… -  he muttered  flustered and I couldn't stop smiling. 

He was trying so hard, and there was something endearing about how eager yet unsure he was.

He kissed me again, slower this time, savoring the moment as his hands trailed down to my thighs, spreading them gently. His boxers were the last to go, and when I felt him against me, the heat between us became impossible to ignore.

- I’ve dreamed about this, - Gerard admitted breathlessly, kissing the side of my neck. - About you... For so long.

I felt my body react to him instinctively, desire building with every brush of his skin against mine. When he paused, hovering just at the edge, his eyes searched mine one last time.

- Is this okay? -  he whispered, his voice low and full of both need and vulnerability.

- Yes,-  I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. - I want this, Gee.

And then, with a slow, careful thrust, his cock was inside me. I gasped, gripping his hair as my body adjusted to the sensation. The burn was sweet and overwhelming.

He started moving, hesitant at first, like he was still learning how to sync with me. But every time I moaned his name, he seemed to gain a little more confidence, his rhythm becoming more certain, more desperate.

The heat between us grew, the room filled with soft gasps and whispered encouragement. His hands roamed my body, one settling on my waist, the other cradling my face as if I were something precious. As deeper he was coming I felt the tension coil in my stomach, tighter and tighter, until I was teetering right on the edge. 

- I’m close…

- Do it, sugar, - he panted, his voice thick with need. - Cum for me.

With a final thrust, the pleasure crashed over me like a wave. I clenched around him, clinging to him, nails digging into his back as I moaned his name, lost in the intensity of it.

Gerard groaned, his movements faltering as he reached his own release. The warmth of the ropes of his cum filling me up pushed me deeper into my own bliss, and we stayed like that, tangled together, catching our breath.

He pressed a lazy kiss to my shoulder, his body still trembling slightly. 

- Wow… -  he whispered, sounding both dazed and amazed. - That was... better than any dream I’ve ever had.

I laughed softly, brushing damp hair from his forehead. 

- Yeah. Way better.

___________________________________________

~ sooo, that's it! Let me know if you liked! :)

[mind-lost-in-the-stars]

a very minor thing about Richie’s death that’s bothered me for awhile now is how Pete and Ruth (I suppose Grace and Steph as well) don’t piece it together after it’s mentioned that Zeke the Fightin’ Nighthawk was murdered

clip for context

i will say that the digital ticket shows more remorse from both Ruth and Steph, but only after Richie is name dropped so yeahh…why didn’t they know Richie was the mascot when other people like Jason (and most likely Max) did? we also know him being the mascot isn’t a recent development after Max dies thanks to Jason’s “member of this team who’s gone unappreciated for far too long” line. that to me implies at least since the beginning of their senior year

a few ideas:

- he never told them because max threatened him is the theory that makes the most sense since “Jägerman doesn’t let nerds go to football games”, but this means he let Richie be the mascot for some unknown reason. was it to let Richie have a bit of happiness that Max still ultimately had control of. I don’t know, but it’s fun to think about

- it’s also very possible he never told them because he never had a reason to tell them, but Richie seems like the type of person to talk about the things that make him happy, and he clearly enjoys being zeke

-maybe max never knew, and Richie knew that if he found out that Max would beat him up for it, but this leaves the question of how Jason knows. if Jason knew and not Max, shout out to Jason for not being a snitch—love that man

- (take this one with a big ol’ grain of salt if u don’t like michie related things) there’s a chance that Richie being the mascot allowed him to see other sides of Max that weren’t just the bullying side which made Max grow on Richie even just a little bit. he of course wouldn’t want Pete and Ruth to know about this, so he kept that and him being the mascot to himself. Jon matteson mentioned once on a stream how out of the nerds Richie felt the worst about Max’s death and maybe that’s because he was (by process of elimination) the closest to Max in that group

- a sadder theory is that Pete, Richie, and Ruth actually just weren’t that close of friends. they all kind of just formed a group at a young age cause they were all labeled as nerds and sorta just stuck with each other through life cause they didn’t have anywhere else to go. I know it’s implied in “go, go nighthawks” that Richie being late to class isn’t abnormal, but for him to be missing for NEARLY THREE FUCKING DAYS and to have neither Ruth or Pete bat an eye either says something about them, something about Richie, but definitely says something about their dynamic as a group. (this is absolutely just theorizing about worst possible scenarios in no possible way do I see this one being the case)

I know it’s not a big deal like at all (and is a problem with a lot of other slasher media), but it always gets to me when characters move past the death of one of their best friends so fast just because a show needs to keep the plot moving.

*sigh*

either way, Richie deserved so so so much better and I hope he’s being held by Rei and Asuka in wherever the hell he ended up <33

[lilacevans]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝: 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

✧.* : ̗̀➛ dark!ari levinson x female!reader (non-descriptive)

✧.* : ̗̀➛ word count: 475.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ warnings: verbal humiliation, ball-sucking, references to face slapping, dirty talk, filthy ari.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ requested by: anonymous

✧.* : ̗̀➛ notes: the big one is here!! this one was really fun to write; although i do need to get better at writing dirty talk as idk i just struggle with it but that's the whole point of these little drabbles. if u have any pointers pls don't hesitate to drop them in my ask box, i always welcome help!! anyway! enjoy my ari lovin' besties!! pls lemme know what u think & check out the main masterlist if this is the first your seeing anything of this series!!

*this is an 18+ space. minors are not welcome here.

*this is a dark au. there are no happy endings here.

Ari sat, propped up by an assortment of pillows against the headboard, head tipped back; long sandy strands clung to the sweat on his brow.

Soft amber glows from the setting sun snuck in through the glass panes, covering your naked body with a fading warmth as you laid between his legs. Red lipstick smeared over your lips, cheek and chin; the same red lipstick covered Ari’s thighs in pretty kisses smudging under your fingertips as you kneaded his thighs as you lapped at the skin of his balls, letting out soft, muted moans that made Ari reply with pleased hums and chesty grunts.

Heat burnt across your cheeks and the burning remnants of Ari’s heavy palms on your thighs blended together. The hues of red smeared across your face was complimented by the muted pink of your tongue, skilfully rubbing at the underside of Ari’s balls before your lips parted to suck one slowly into your mouth. 

‘’That’s it, Pup,’’ Ari groaned, slow and deep; hand stroking over your hair, his hand settling lightly on the back of your neck; the sudden softness from the heaviness of his hands earlier caused your head to spin. ‘’Such a good pup.” 

You whined at the sound of his drawled praise, pleasure filled and throbbing core. Your hips humped at the sheets below you, hopelessly trying to find enough pressure to relieve the ache between your legs. Ari’s chuckle soon brought you out of your head as you peered up to find his gaze locked on you, a smirk pulled at his lips. 

‘’Pathetic little Pup, humping the sheets like a bitch in heat. Live  for nothin’ but to be used— nothin’ but hole,’’ Ari taunted, hand now gripping the back of your neck, drawing you closer to his sack.  ‘’And you fuckin’ love it. You know you do. You’d waste days between my thighs, wouldn’t you, Pup?” 

A pitiful whine escaped your throat as you were forced to lower your gaze from his intense stare, trying to sink into the sheets while keeping your mouth and tongue running over his balls. 

‘’Tryna’ hide from me, Pup?’’ Ari teased, fingers finding your face to tilt your eyes back to him. ‘’Don’t go shy on me now,’’ Ari continued, teeth on show as he gleamed down at you. ‘’I know that slutty mouth can fit more than one in there; will stuff your mouth full if I have to.``

Ari’s threat made you push yourself, widening your mouth and using your fingertips to manipulate both of his heavy balls to settle against your tongue. Your eyes fluttered closed, moaning softly around the skin, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth; stuffed to the brim and overflowing with everything Ari. 

‘’That’s it, get ‘em dripping, pet,’’ Ari moaned into the open air. ‘’You fuckin’ love it,’’ Ari repeated breathlessly as a hand disappeared from your hair and moved to fist at his leaking cock. “Gonna keep you there forever.”

[underoospeterparker]

heyy!! ik u already wrote smth similar but could u write peter parker x reader with anxiety and he notices that they like fidget and wrong their hands and stuff when there’s feeling anxious or overwhelmed and he like lets them fidget with his hands (inspired by that one scene from The Bear) and/or comforts her and asks if she’s ok?? sorry that’s rlly specific lol, no pressure & i love ur work!!🫶

welcome to my 300 celebration!

"Hello?" you called out into the seemingly empty apartment, looking for your boyfriend. You slipped off your shoes and slung your bag on the chair closest to you. "Pete, baby, you there?"

There was a pause, a shuffle, and then a, "Hi, sweetheart," as Peter made his way into the living room.

"There you are," you murmured as he gave you a hug. "Missed you today," you said, voice slightly muffled by his sweater.

He smiled, chin propped up on your head, and then he pulled away slightly to give you a short kiss. "I missed you, too. How was your day?"

He pulled you down to the sofa with him, arm wrapped around your shoulders. You leaned into him, and started to fidget with your hands as you thought about how to respond to that question. "It was okay," you decided, after a long pause.

Peter wasn't sure you were telling the truth for many reasons. The first, and most obvious sign, was that he could tell you were anxious. Your hands were a dead giveaway.

He took your hands in his, warmth seeping from his palms to yours as he drew soothing circles on the back of your hands. "How was it actually?" he asked softly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

You sighed, leaning back into the sofa as you began to fidget with his hands instead, playing with his slender fingers. "Tiring," you finally admitted. "I have a lot to do," you murmured.

His face softened, taking one of his hands out of your vice-like hold to cup your cheek. "I know you do," he whispered. "And I'm always here to help. Whenever you need me." He paused, then joked, "Even if that means I have to loan you my hands for a while."

You giggled, and wrapped your arms around him this time. "Thank you."

[headkiss]

Hi! Id love if you could write anything about peter parker? Maybe fluff or comfort 🤞

hiii thank u so much for your req!! i went with some roommate!peter fluff for this one, hope you enjoy <3 | 0.7k words

You’re no stranger to tossing and turning at night, to shutting your eyes and keeping them shut hoping for sleep to drag you under, and huffing each time that wouldn’t work.

It’s where there’s a bottle of melatonin gummies in the cabinet behind your mirror in the bathroom, only that bottle had been empty tonight, which has led to your being awake even later than usual.

On a normal night, you only toss and turn until you hear Peter come home, his window sliding open, him stumbling inside and cursing at himself as he goes, and the window clicking shut behind him. That way, you know he’s safe, that being Spider-man didn’t get him hurt this time around.

Only tonight, he’s been home and in his room for a couple of hours now, and you’ve yet to manage to go to sleep.

Frustrated, you toss your blankets off of you and pad into the kitchen, the lights from the city outside your windows guiding you over. You try to be quiet as you grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water, as if it’ll do anything to help.

No matter how quiet you are, though, Peter knows something’s going on.

His senses have always seemed to pick up on you more so than others, and though he tries to convince himself it’s just because you’re his roommate, he knows deep down that it’s because he likes you far more than on a roommate level.

The Spider-man side of him knows that too, which is why his eyes blink open in his bed as soon as you’re out of your own. Even in his sleep, there’s a part of Peter that keeps track of you, alerting him if the slightest thing is off. This time, it’s that you’re in the kitchen at 3 in the morning rather than in bed.

He rubs his eyes before tossing his blankets away from his body the same way you had only a minute ago, and heading out into the kitchen to find you.

You’re perched on the counter when he walks in, your feet kicking lightly beneath you. You’re staring down at your knees until you hear Peter’s sleepy voice gently calling your name, and your head picks up to look at him.

He’s got nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants on, and your eyes trail down his bare chest for a moment before you catch yourself. You always seem to forget how fit he is under his clothes, how the lines of his abs cut through his stomach in a way that somehow still makes him look soft, but never ever weak.

You flick your eyes back up to his face and hope the dark had kept your ogling hidden. “Shit, Peter. Did I wake you? Sorry-”

“No, you didn’t,” he says, walking over to lean back on the island in front of you. “My, uh, senses did. Wanted to see if something was wrong.”

Peter’s arm flexes as he scratches the back of his neck—a nervous habit of his you’ve picked up on—and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought of him caring enough to be nervous around you.

Your feet have stopped their kicking now, your hands squeezing the edge of the countertop instead, “oh. I’m okay. Just couldn’t sleep.”

Peter knows about your trouble sleeping (you share a bathroom, after all, and he’s seen your meds in there), and all he wants to do is help you in any way he can. It’s all he ever wants to do, really.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asks, fingers drumming on the countertop behind him. “Help you take your mind off things, maybe.”

“I don’t want to keep you up, too, Pete.”

“What if I want to stay up with you, honey?”

He’s called you ‘honey’ before, but something about the way it comes out now, all sweet and deeper with sleep, has your stomach rolling. How could you say no after that?

Peter let you lead him into your room, waiting for you to get in bed first to be sure not to take your preferred side. He slides in next to you as you reach for your laptop and pick a movie. He’s grateful you’re not the one with the superhuman hearing, because if you were, you’d be able to pick up on the way his heart’s racing right now.

Sure, you’ve cuddled on your couch before, even taken naps together there, but being in bed with you feels different. More intimate. Peter likes it a little too much.

And when a couple minutes into the movie, you shift closer and rest your head on his shoulder, he thinks that nothing’s ever felt so good.

[octuscle]

Makeover

Mortimer not only had a shitty old-fashioned name, he was also simply shitty and old-fashioned. His clothes were actually often inherited from his father and grandfather. His speech was affected. And yet he was nothing but a small and insignificant clerk at the tax office. Totally career-minded. A pedant. A pain in the ass. Like his father. Like his grandfather.

But Mortimer was also a lickspittle and a pussyfoot. He never had the guts to provoke any kind of trouble with big taxpayers. Trouble only meant more work. But with small private individuals and small businesses, he loved to torment them when checking their tax returns. Especially those who didn't have a tax advisor had beads of sweat on their foreheads just holding his letter in their hands. And when they opened it and read it, they turned pale. Mortimer could almost jerk off at the thought. In fact, his little cock got hard at the thought.

The punks from the tattoo parlor were outstanding victims. The tax return was probably largely correct. But it was full of minor formal errors and implausibilities that could have been overlooked. But that was no fun for Mortimer. So he bombarded the owner of the studio with questions and requests to submit additional documents. As I said, the tax authorities would gain no further advantage from this. But Mortimer was able to exercise his little bit of power. But this time he would regret it. Bitterly regret it.

The conversation with his superior had been unpleasant. Pete, the owner of the tattoo studio, had made an official complaint. For arbitrariness, abuse of authority and a few other things. Probably one of the perverts who were his customers was a crooked lawyer, Mortimer thought. He didn't have much to fear from his boss. One crow didn't peck out another crow's eye. Nevertheless, he had been ordered to make a personal appearance at the tattoo parlor to clear up the loose ends. What a humiliation. He would get revenge for that too.

The studio smelled of tobacco smoke, leather, sweat, whiskey and disinfectant. A terrible combination that almost made Mortimer want to vomit. He went through the documents he had in front of him. No chance, everything was correct. Still, there had to be something. And quickly. It was Friday morning, he wanted to have his report written by 2 p.m. at the latest and leave for the weekend. The employees all looked like freaks. He asked Pete for all the employment contracts from the last 20 years. Pete looked at Mortimer… With piercing blue eyes. He took Mortimer's chin very firmly in his tattooed calloused hand, almost stroking Mortimer's face with the other. And then he moved his hand slowly towards his crotch. And then he gripped Mortimer's balls firmly. "Listen, you office boy! Everything is fine here. Got it?" The grip on his balls did not loosen. But his erection became painful. Mortimer nods. The grip loosened. Mortimer packed up his things. At the office, he would report the store to a friend from the health department. Pete had made a big mistake.

It was almost 11:30 when Mortimer arrived at the tax office. Lunchtime. People were running along the corridors and streaming towards the canteen. Mortimer actually wanted to eat straight away. But the call to the health department was more important. He had almost reached his office when his boss stood in his way. "So, all the problems with the tattoo artist sorted?" Mortimer was just about to answer when his boss laughed. "Mortimer, I wouldn't have put it past you. You and a piercing? Did you get that pierced to appease the taxman? Well, because it's Friday. But Monday without it again, please."

Mortimer turned pale. Yes, there had been something on his lower lip. He felt carefully. A cone protruded from his lower lip. One was through his nasal septum. And under the cone was something else under his lower lip. In a panic, Mortimer ran to the washrooms. He looked in the mirror. He looked like a freak! He no longer even noticed that he was unshaven. Mortimer reached for his cell phone and tried to call Pete's tattoo studio. Only an answering machine. Mortimer ran into his office and put on a face mask. He told colleagues who came by that he wasn't feeling well and wanted to protect them. They wished him a speedy recovery. But it didn't get any better. Mortimer nervously drummed his fingers on his desk and wondered what he should do. Then he noticed the tattoos on his knuckles. "Fuck" and "Yeah". In Gothic letters. Mortimer ran back to the washrooms. And threw up.

He didn't actually have to call in sick. He would have finished work in an hour anyway. But he had to get out of here. Immediately. He walked to the bus stop. It was a warm spring day. Nevertheless, Mortimer drove to Oxford Street first thing and bought a pair of gloves in the first store he saw. Should he go to the tattooist? But not now. The streets were full of people. And he looked like a freak. No, off home. And tomorrow at the crack of dawn to see that asshole Pete.

Something was different in his apartment. There was a half-full ashtray on the coffee table. And the fridge was full of beer. Surprisingly, this didn't strike Mortimer as odd at all. He took a beer, lit a cigarette and threw himself onto the sofa. What a terrible day. He began to cry with self-pity. And he fell asleep crying.

It was already dark outside when Mortimer woke up. The beer was warm and stale. But Mortimer finished it. The fag had fallen out of his hand as he fell asleep and had left another burn mark on the shabby old leather sofa. Mortimer burped. He was drunk and stoned. The piercings in his nipples felt good. Mortimer began to wank. He squirted on his Sex Pistol T-shirt. And fell asleep again.

The next morning, Mortimer woke up with an insane hangover. His apartment was a mess. Full ashtrays, empty beer cans, dirty clothes. What the hell had happened here? Mortimer collected the garbage while still half asleep and put the bin bags outside in the hallway. He had to pee. No, he had to piss. He went into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. He ran his tattooed hands through his greasy hair. He urgently needed to go to the hairdresser again. But first he had to piss and then take a shower. He pulled his 20-centimeter cock out of his no longer completely clean underpants. The scrotal ladder clacked as he did so. And the mighty Prince Albert shone in the light of the bathroom lamp. Mortimer felt dizzy.

Yes, the first thing he wanted to do was go and see Pete. But for some reason, his apartment was a mess. Mortimer took a shower first. He had to admit that the feeling of the piercings in his nipples, scrotum and cock was very sensual. But the steel had to come off. And he also had to do something about the tattoos. His fingers and the backs of his hands were covered in tattoos. He hadn't even seen his back and neck yet. When he felt clean again, Mortimer collected the dirty laundry. He made the beds fresh. He wanted to turn on the washing machine. But it was gone. Not just the washing machine, but the whole alcove. His bathroom was somehow smaller. And there was no washing machine or dryer. Mortimer stuffed the washing into an IKEA bag that he didn't know where it had come from. He collected the rest of the garbage. He washed the dirty dishes, because his dishwasher in his much smaller kitchen was also gone. It was almost 4 p.m. when it was finally clean and tidy again. Mortimer was satisfied. All he had been able to find in the way of clean laundry was a shiny red Adidas tracksuit, a pair of white Calvin Klein shorts, a white fine-rib undergarment, white socks and white sneakers. He looked silly. But it should be enough for a visit to the laundrette. He took the dirty laundry and the garbage bags and left the apartment.

The hallway smelled of cold tobacco smoke, beer and piss. The walls were covered in graffiti. From time to time, the roar of violent arguments could be heard from the apartments. Shit, this is a crazy dream, Mortimer thought to himself. This must be a crazy dream. The elevator was broken. So he walked the eight floors to the laundry room. Thank God there was a free machine. Mortimer took a laundry token out of his trouser pocket. He stuffed his dirty laundry into the machine. Damn it, he didn't have any detergent. A skinhead was sitting on one of the rickety plastic chairs under the no-smoking sign, reading a sports magazine and smoking. "Excuse me, could I borrow some washing powder from you?" Mortimer wanted to ask. But he said "Oi, sorry mate, could I nick some washing powder off ya? And a fag while you're at it?" The skinhead looked at Mortimer. He licked his lips. "Got yer tongue pierced too, you dirty pig?" Mortimer stuck out his tongue. And the skinhead took his cock out of his bleached jeans. "Then get on your knees and earn both!"

The skinhead only had a modest PA. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure for Mortimer to work his cheesy boner with his tongue. The skinhead steered his head into his curls with a firm grip. From time to time he pulled Mortimer's head far back into his neck and snotted in his face. Mortimer's cock built a tent in his pants. The skinhead squirted down his throat. Mortimer squirted into his pants. And the washing machine rumbled. ""Oi, cunt, fancy a proper haircut? Can't see any of them sick tattoos on your skull." Mortimer took a quick breath. What was happening here? He was standing in a full-weight tracksuit in the laundry room of a public housing complex, had just swallowed a skinhead's sperm and now wanted to get a haircut from the skinhead? Shit, how had he ended up in this situation? "I'm in 639, got beer and fags. Bring the rest, mate!"

The laundry didn't get really clean in the old washing machines. Mortimer threw everything onto his unmade bed. His apartment was a mess. But it was his home. And he was about to get a free haircut. Mortimer was rolling a cigarette when Liam knocked. He had brought the rest with him. The rest was a long hair clipper, a wet razor, shaving foam. And three buddies who couldn't wait to piss on the freshly shaved bald head.

Monday morning. Pete had asked Mo to take the missing documents to the tax office. Mo had actually worked at the tax office in the past. He knew his way around there. But he had been fired because Pete had allegedly bribed him to be gracious during the tax audit. In return, he had gotten some piercings and tattoos for free. But that was a hell of a long time ago. Now Mo was one of the most talented piercers in town. In the hottest studio in town. Actually, Mo could have afforded something better than the shabby place in the run-down high-rise complex a long time ago. But leaving his mates in the lurch? Not for the life of him!

Hot tf pic by @ki-kink

[sacharinee]

hi m!!! what do you think about bf!pete getting his wisdom teeth out? and the reader taking care of him?? hed be so funny lmao xxD

-🧸

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader w/c: 750 a/n: hi anon!! thnk u for requesting i had sm fun writing this! :)

you’re sat at the dentist's office, cooped up in those uncomfortable chairs while you anxiously waited for your boyfriend’s surgery to finish.  

when peter ranted and moaned nonstop over his constant toothache, may decided enough was enough, and took it upon herself to set an appointment for her nephew. he wasn’t too keen on the idea. peter wasn’t afraid of anything ninety-nine percent of the time. dentists, however, wasn’t one of them. 

“can’t you stay here with me?” 

“stay? baby, no they’re gonna be drilling in your teeth.”

“but i-”

“and it’s gonna be bloody and nasty and i don’t wanna have to see all that.”

you turn towards him, only to come face to face with the boy’s horrified look, his eyes are wide and skin pale, mouth open in shock. you cringe at your response.

“but,” you stand, “you’re gonna do amazing, you’re gonna sit here and let the dentist do his magic.” you smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead.

“y/n/n, wait but-” you drop his hand on the way out, “bye, love you baby! be good!”

“y/n!”

two hours later swing by when a woman in navy scrubs comes to get you, announcing that peter is out of surgery. 

you knew that he would be high out of his mind on laughing gas, you just didn’t think it would be this bad. 

when you enter, the dentist is off to the side, looking over charts, packing a care bag for his patient.

peter’s head lulls towards your touch on his shoulder and slowly blinks at your presence. 

“hi baby, how you feeling?” you give him a beaming smile.

your boyfriend does his best to muster the same grin, but the amount of gauze in his mouth makes his rosy cheeks puff out, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth.

peter takes a moment to stare at you, “woaahh” he languidly slurs his words, “you’re so pretty.” 

you giggle at the comment when the boy gasps in horror, “wait, wait, i have a girlfriend, and she’s-” he looks up at you worriedly and slaps his forehead, “i’m in trouble.”

you can’t help but let out a laugh, he’s so dopey. 

your fingers touch the bottom of his chin gently and lift his head, “i’m your girlfriend, silly.” 

a loud gasp escapes peter as his face turns ecstatic, “get out!” you giggle at his reaction, the dentist glances over at you two and offers an admiring smile.

“so do we have sex?”

the awkward silence in the room kills you. 

your face blushes, as you shake your head and clear your throat, “peter, no.”

“no?!” he sighs in disappointment, “aw man.” your boyfriend pouts at the floor, “what have i been doing with my life.”

“oh my god, pete,” when the dentist turns away, you whisper and offer him a shrug, “sometimes we do.”

the delight on his face returns and his eyes go wide, “really?!”

the boy seriously has no filter.

as you’re packing his things, peter pauses and pokes his cheeks, “wait y/n,” he pauses, “my face kinda feels weird.”

you look around and hand him a mirror from the counter, “oh my god…” peter gingerly touches his face as you kneel down at him, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“my face… it’s so fat!” he’s got tears in his eyes and whining with a jutted bottom lip, “y/n,” sniffle. “will-” sniffle. “will you still love me if my face is so fat?” 

you roll your eyes and smile at his antics, “of course, i would.”

he seems pleased with your answer because he’s back to smiling. you go back to packing his things. “hey, mr dentist,” he woozily slurs, the gauze is practically spilling out his mouth, “d’you know i’m spider-man?”

you mentally facepalm at his obliviousness and mutter, “jesus christ.”

you turn to the older man who’s chuckling at his mental state and shrug, “he also thinks he’s luke skywalker from star wars.”

“but i am!-” “okay bug boy, lets go.”

“where we going?”

“home, sweetie.”

he gasps eagerly and raises his eyebrows at you, “to have sex?”

“oh my god.”

soon after the dentist explains and hands you everything he needs to recover, you guide peter to the car. 

he’s extremely dramatic. 

he’s got his hands around your shoulders, dragging himself on the floor, acting like he can’t walk - which he definitely can.

“peter, i know you can walk. c’mon help me out,” you beg.

“no, i can’t" he moans, "carry me,” he demands.

“what? no,”

“why not?”

“because you’re too heavy.”

and he’s crying all over again, “i knew it! you hate me 'cause you think my face is too fat!”

[therealflickerman]

Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part two

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

______________________________________________________________

chapter summary: You never want Peter Parker around, but you find he tents to show up whenever you need him most.

word count: 4.9k

chapter contents: reader is intended to be fem! , language, a little banter and a little fluff, reader is anxious and a mess,  idk anything about american diner culture, these two r awkward idiots that don’t know how to be soft 

note: poor pete just wants to be your friend, and poor reader is a disaster girl. I had so much fun writing this chapter I hope yall enjoy it!, thank u charlie for editing

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four (ongoing!)

Your earphones carry music to your eardrums, blaring at the highest volume possible, it's a feeble attempt to drown out your thoughts and you’re not quite sure it’s working. It crosses your mind that you should probably lower the volume sparing others in the library from the distraction, however, as you find yourself re-reading the same sentence for the third time, you can’t quite find it in yourself to care. 

A groan slips past your lips, the heels of your palms find the sockets of your eyes and you sit like this for a moment before dragging your hands down your face in irritation. Your biology textbook sits on the desk in front of you, the annotated page, a testament to last night's productivity, mocks you with its perfection. 

You’ve been at this since Eleven a.m. and you can quite literally feel your brain melting out of your head, it’s rare you have trouble studying, actually, you would go so far as to call it a forte of yours. You blame your recent bout of sleeplessness and curse how busy your brain has been the last few nights. 

Sliding your sleeve just above your watch, you check the time, it reads ‘one twenty-six p.m.’. “Shit,” you exhale, scolding yourself for letting the time slip through our hands.

You look at the testbook with disdain, promising yourself at least fifteen minutes of study before your shift at the diner begins. You flip to a new section and pray a change of scenery will kickstart your brain into surrendering a bit more work, though you feel deep down that it’s a lost cause. 

A defeated sigh escapes you, your eyes lock on the start of the page and you begin to read. The chapter talks of the immune system's response to pathogens and you recall touching on the topic in class. You specifically remember that day because Peter had ‘accidently’ spilt his milk all over your notes during one of his usual attempts to irritate you, despite the way his grin curled into that of a worried frown, and the way he had jumped into action, letting out frantic apologies, you’re not so sure it truly was an accident, though maybe that's what you’d like to think. 

Your brows furrow as you realise you’ve in fact lost your train of thought once again, your brain had wandered off about a thousand times already that morning, but it particularly bugs you this time as it dawns on you that you are unable to escape Peter Parker, even as you sit alone with your thoughts. For a second your throat feels tight and you think you could cry from pure frustration, though you look to the library that surrounds you, there are a mix of silently working students and businessmen, and you decide you don’t want to be the deranged woman crying into her biology textbook at one-thirty p.m. the afternoon before her test. 

You opt to take a deep breath rather than the later and you reread the line, taking a note on the sentence before completing the paragraph. You turn the page and you finally feel concentration begin to build. 

A yelp slips from your lips as a book drops and lands before you with a soft thud, it breaks the still silence of the library, shattering the first string of focus you had managed since last night's study session. Your gaze shoots upwards and you’re met with the same big brown eyes you’ve become accustomed to.  

“Enjoying your last-minute study session?” he plops into the chair across from you carelessly. 

You struggle to hear him through your loud music though you quite like it that way.

Your eyes narrow and you rip your headphones out with a swift tug. Music plays from them softly as they’re discarded on the desk. “Peter-”, you start, and wish you had the chance to finish. 

“I finished studying last night but,” he slides your textbook across the table, spinning it in his direction so he can read your annotations, “it’s good to see you putting in the work,”

“Peter, I am going to kill you” In a fit of irritation, you aggressively shove the textbook back to your side of the desk, you genuinely cannot believe your luck or lack thereof. 

“That's not very nice,” 

“You…” you spit loudly, wincing at the volume of your voice before lowering your tone, “are not very nice.” Your hand motions to all of him and your eyes narrow further in aggravation. 

He mouths a humoured ‘wow’, and leans back in the chair with an arrogant grin and a cross of his arms.

“How did you even,” you find the words, “there are like twenty libraries in Queens and you’re

sitting across from me…” your arms crossed, “uninvited” you emphasise. 

He shrugs with a grin and leans over, digging through his beat-up backpack.

He silently places his things on the desk, ‘just make yourself at home’ you huff ironically with an eye roll. He laughs softly at your comment as he pulls out a small pencil case, it's dark blue and covered in Sharpie doodles, then grabs the rest of his books, piling them on top of the one he had used to startle you. 

“I thought you were done with studying” you deadpan. 

He hums a laugh, “you can never be done with studying" he quips sarcastically. 

You let out a breath of frustration as he continued digging through his bag. 

“Look Parker I really need to focus-”

“Oh I wanted to give you this,” he mumbles, cutting you off and pulling a sheet of paper from the backpack, sliding it across the desk to you. 

You look down at the page, it's a photocopied version of his messy, yet readable notes. 

“Your bio notes…?” you look up at him and meet his eyes, “why?” your brows furrow further though this time fueled by confusion. 

He hums, opening his book, “felt like being nice” he adds and you let out a humoured scoff. 

“And you just somehow knew…” you correct yourself with a clearing of your throat, “Well, thought I needed these” You watch him, a brow raised in confusion, 

“I can take them back,” he grins, meeting your eyes and reaching across to snatch them from your hands. You pull away, further furrowing your brow and begin reading the notes. 

“What did you do to them,” you ask, sceptically as you skim the page. His work seems genuine, in fact, the notes are far more well-versed than the half-assed sheet of scribbles you’ve been working on and you swallow the insecure feeling you’ve grown used to. 

He laughs, his smile growing as his hands pull back and raise defensively with a soft ‘nothing’. 

You spare him a cautious eye with a shake of your head, continuing to look through the notes. 

“Hey… look at this way,” his face turns earnest as he leans in to speak, you humour him, placing the paper down and giving him your attention. 

“Now you won’t fail” he nods, the mask of seriousness slipping away as he breaks into a stupid grin.

‘Asshole’ you mumble to yourself softly, a gentle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and you shake your head. 

He watches you carefully, satisfied with the faint smile that curls on your lips. 

“Seriously though, how’d you know I’d be here?” your focus turns back to the notes with the raise of an eyebrow and the linger of a smile. 

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair, “remember that one time in English,” he says in an attempt to jog your memory, his hand finds the textbook in front of him and he fidgets with the pages, “we were fighting about the best libraries,” you’re sure he’s right because the two of you fight about everything, “you said this one was your favourite, specifically this area because you like to look into the garden” 

He’s right, you like to look out of the giant glass windows and watch people sitting in the library's garden, studying with their friends.

“And what, you wrote all that down in your journal?” you joke, watching as he laughs.

He hums nodding his head with a, ‘Yeah, wrote it all down in my personal diary’.

“No um,” he breathes a laugh, “I just have a good memory,” his eyes flick to meet yours, you exhale a sceptical hum, nodding your head in response. 

“How else do you think I beat you in all those exams,” he smirks watching the grin tug at your lips,

“What, like the one on friday?” you mock.

“No like the one tomorrow” he retorts. 

This pulls a laugh from your lips, you roll your eyes with a shake of your head. 

You hum as the laughter dies down, “you might’ve got me there” you say softly, letting up the teasing and your eyes leave his, suddenly very interested in your textbook. Unconsciously your lip slips between your teeth and Peter notices. 

“Do you… want help studying?” he offers awkwardly, it’s unusual for him and your eyes flick up, sending a sceptical look.  

You’re met with a genuine smile. 

You beckon him towards you with furrowed brows, he leans forward, accepting your hand against his forehead, with a roll of his eyes and a sweet laugh.

“No fever,” you hum, “but you’re just not acting like yourself,” you mumble in sarcastic dismay and your hand pulls from his forehead, sitting back in your chair, you turn your focus back to your textbook. 

"You're a regular comedian," he remarks dryly, a humoured smile never leaves his lips.

Your eyes keep on the page in front of you, “so I’ve been told” your voice drips with irony, pulling a laugh from Peter. 

“So…” his words fade though you know what he’s asking, he bites the inside of his cheek watching you. 

Your eyes drift to your watch before meeting his, they’re already staring at you. 

“I truly, truly would love to you” you deadpan with a nod, “I would, but luckily for me, I have work in about ten minutes and my boss will wring my neck if I’m late” You give a wry smile, collecting your things. 

A stupid grin stays curled on his lips, ‘yeah yeah’ he shoos you off with a roll of his eyes.

You’re satisfied with his reaction and push your chair into the desk. 

“Thanks for the notes!” you tease, waving them in his direction as you head for the door. 

______________________________________________________________

As dusk settles outside, the diner is left lit by the dingy light bulbs that hang overhead. Your eyes hurt from their flickering and you blink tightly with a shake of the head in an attempt at dulling the pain. 

Balancing a coffee cup in each hand and a slice of hot apple pie on your left wrist, you tread cautiously, one foot after another, approaching an older couple on the far right of the diner. The heat from the porcelain kisses the tips of your fingers, both cups filled to the brim with boiling hot coffee, your eyes trace the black liquid, watching as it sways with each step you take.

“Here you are,” you give a sweet smile to the older couple, placing their coffees down and hiding a wince as your raw fingers place the hot plate of apple pie between the two of them. The wife thanks you sweetly with a smile and you ask if there's anything else you can help them with, to which they politely decline. 

You offer a smile before turning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen, pushing open the swinging doors softly and slipping inside. You quite narrowly dodge a kitchen hand who’s balancing a towering stack of porcelain dinner plates, frantically apologising, you offer to help out but she swiftly brushes you off, rushing in another direction before you can finish your sentence. 

You slip to a quiet corner of the kitchen, avoiding the preparation benches and bury your face in your hands for just a moment, an exhale of frustration slips from your lips.   

“Hello!” Your manager's voice is grating as he calls your name, your hands drop from your face and you quickly turn to meet him, instead you’re met with clicking fingers inches away from you eyes, you recoil at his obnoxiousness with a flinch. “You’ve still got twenty minutes on the clock kid, get out there” his voice is raised over the sounds of the kitchen, he points to the kitchen doors and you send him a sheepish smile, ‘sorry’ rolls off your tongue but you’re not sure he hears, let alone cares for your apologies. Your expression drops to that of disgust as he passes by, heading to grab something from the freezers, and you throw the finger in his direction. 

You push through heavy kitchen doors, and you notice the back of a man's head sitting in your section of the diner. Rushing to the booth, your eyes flick to your watch quickly and you make a mental note that you have around fifteen minutes left. 

Your hand feels around your apron for your small notebook and pen and your eyes flick down to assist, “Hello welcome to Uncle Bills,” you find it and flip it open giving the man your name, “I’ll be your server today,” you plaster the usual cheesy smile on your face and look up to meet the eyes of the man you’re serving. 

“What a surprise seeing you here” 

“Parker…” your eyes narrow and you try to find the words, “Do you not have a job or like, anyone else to bug?” you genuinely wonder how it’s possible to see someone that you actively avoid twice in a day. 

“That's not a very nice way to talk to customers” he quips, tilting his head to the side.

“Seriously are you stalking me or something,” 

“What you didn’t know about that journal of mine?” he grins up at you, “the one with all that info about your favourite libraries” he laughs with a shrug, and mumbles a ‘thought you knew’.

You roll your eyes with a cross of your arms and turn to clean the table of an old trucker who had finished his burger.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he laughs out, “I promise. I didn’t know you worked here,” his face is sincere though that stupid grin remains.

You raise your brows at him and a beat passes. 

“I just want a coffee,” he smiles sweetly. 

“Okay” you exhale a sigh, “how do you like it” 

“Just black,” he answers, “so um… when do you get off?”. 

“In like ten minutes thank god, why?” you question writing in your notepad.

“Sugar?” you ask before he can answer and he shakes his head with a, ‘no thanks’

“Well, I just thought, maybe I could walk you home”, he offers with a hint of uncertainty

“What, is my address missing from your journal?” you joke, putting your notepad back into your apron. 

“You’re just on fire today aren’t you” he teases. 

“Aren’t I always,” you give him a sarcastic grin. 

Before turning to get his coffee you pause a moment, meeting his eyes with a genuine smile, “Look Parker… thank you, for the offer but I’m… I’m just exhausted, maybe another time”, you nod and your teeth catch your lip picking at the skin as he responds. 

He nods softly, “Yeah, for sure”. 

You offer a pressed smile before turning to brew his coffee

You return just a moment later, lowering the near overflowing cup ever so slowly ensuring none of it spills. 

“There you go,” you lean in slightly, “I found you our biggest mug, absolutely free of charge” you whisper with a wink, sending a sweet smile.

“My hero” he murmurs sarcastically, matching your low tone with a grin. 

You let out a hum and stand up straight brushing your hands down your apron, “well I’m just about off” You smile and there's an awkward beat of silence.

“Hey you keep those notes I gave you safe, I heard they’re worth a lot” he teases, looking up at you. 

“Hmm, I don't recall any important notes, I did throw away a sheet of paper with unreadable chicken scratch on it though” 

He offers an eye-roll laced with amusement, wishing you a good night. 

You return the sentiment with a sweet grin. 

______________________________________________________________

Awkwardly, your hands fumble behind your back, untying your firmly tied apron. You grab your tips from the pocket and stuff them in your jean pocket. With care, you fold the apron neatly and slide it into the pigeon-hole designated with your name, swapping it with your jacket which you slip on. 

The image of Peter's big brown eyes flash in your mind and you feel the all-too-familiar pang of guilt rising in your throat. Your teeth snag your lips as you frown slightly and for a moment you think you should have accepted his offer to walk you home. 

You swing your backpack over your shoulder, taking a second to think, and release it’s likely you’ll catch him on your way out, you swallow your nerves and decide you’ll take him up on his offer. 

You let your manager know you’re leaving and push through the kitchen swinging doors, expecting to see Peter still sitting at the booth. 

Instead, you’re met with a half-drunken cup of coffee and a five-dollar tip. Your lips curl into a smile and you roll your eyes, ‘always the gentlemen’ you think to yourself as you pocket the money. 

______________________________________________________________

The soles of your shoes tap against the floor of the subway, and you hum along to your music, resting the back of your head against the cool of the glass. The subway is quiet at this time of night having just missed rush hour and you’re more than grateful for the peace. The voice of the announcement system warns you that your step is the next, you hear it quietly through your music, opening your resting eyes. 

You step onto the quiet platform, thankful for the more peaceful trip this time around. You walk slowly through quiet backstreets taking your time and mindlessly listening to your music, the volume is gentle, wary of the softly throbbing headache that you’ve acquired from the day. You hum along softly, and your teeth sink into your lip, occupying themselves. 

“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore” a familiar voice calls out and a flash of red drops down next to you. 

You jump slightly, turning to look at the man. “And I thought we weren’t scaring young women at night” You let out a breath attempting to control your heart rate, he laughs with an apology and follows your footsteps, walking by your side. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again?” you utter, though it comes out as a question. 

He hums a laugh, “I just couldn’t stay away” he teases sarcastically. 

“Seems to be the way a lot of people feel” you mumble with a grin. 

“Elaborate”

“I’m fairly sure I have a highly dedicated stalker” you nod playfully. 

He chuckles, “And what makes you think that”. 

“You know that kid I was talking about, Peter?” you ask and Spiderman nods along, “well, he first found me at my favourite library and then walked into my job four hours later to order a coffee”. 

“Sounds like we have a high-profile case on our hands,” he jokes and it pulls a small laugh from your lips with an eye roll. 

“You know you sound a lot like him” you say matter-of-factly. 

“You don’t know what I sound like” he retorts rather quickly. 

“No I mean,” you think for a moment, “you’re both annoyingly witty”. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment” he jokes with a satisfied nod. 

“How does the um,” you raise your hand to your lips, “the voice thing, how does it work” you question with a small tilt of your head. 

“It’s just a vocal converter” he nods. 

“Like Ghostface in Scream,” you add and he nods. 

“And the um,” your hand hovers over your wrist, and you contort your hand into his signature pose. 

“Oh, here look” he stops the both of you and flips his wrist, a white web shoots onto the brick wall behind you. 

“Try it,” he mumbles, your hand hovers over his wrist and he gives you a soft nod, encouraging you to press down on the sensor. You press the heel of his hand and a web shoots past you, sticking to the wall in one swift motion. Your mouth forms an ‘O’ as you mumble a soft, ‘woah’,

Spiderman watches you, a soft smile sits behind his mask. “So do you, like, have any actual powers?” you ask with a furrowed brow, “besides being a genius” you add and the irony draws a small laugh from the boy. 

He hums a soft ‘hmh’, he shakes the web from the shooter and walks past you. You stand with crossed arms and watch as he climbs the walls, his hands and feet sticking to the vertical bricks. “So you can do that without the suit?” you call up at him and he gives a soft nod, releasing the wall and gracefully falling from the height. 

“What else can you do?” you ask in awe, you had never particularly been a fan of Spiderman, you’d watched the news clips, and defended him when your mum questioned if his presence was ethical, though you’d never questioned, nor ever thought of, the logistics of his ‘powers’. 

He lets out a laugh, “I have um, enhanced strength, agility, stamina, all that” he nods, “Oh and um, a tingle?” it comes out as a question and he tilts his head slightly.

“I do not want to hear about your tingle dude” you laugh with a disgusted face, he elbows you gently, with a, ‘Not like that you weirdo’. “No it’s like, I can tell when there’s danger,” he attempts to explain, “like, I know to duck before something hits my head”. 

You shove your hand in your pocket, pulling out a scrunched-up receipt and throw it towards his head. His hand raises swiftly, catching the ball of paper, “really?” he questions before unravelling it, with a serious face and a hum he reads, “Hemorrhoid cream?”. 

Your brows furrow and you quickly grab the receipt to see a grocery list of, ‘gum, Coke Zero and a KitKat’, you roll your eyes with a ‘ha ha, very funny’. 

“So,” he looks down at you and the two of you make eye contact, “tell me about your day,” he mumbles as the two of you continue your stroll, you accept his offer once again. 

“It was pretty boring… I studied for like god knows how long and got nowhere,” you grumble and Spiderman listens attentively. “Then, just as I was on a roll Parker interrupted me… but he gave me his notes so,” you give a pressed smile, “never will I ever tell him how much it helped me out but he is a lifesaver.” you nod. 

Spiderman's lips curl into a wide grin behind the mask and he lets out a hum in response, ” Anyway my boss is an asshole,” you add with a, ‘but what's new’.

“What’d he do today?” he questions and watches as your eyes roll at the thought of your manager. He’s so intensely focused on you and for the first time since knowing you he’s able to take in the small imperfections on your face, he observes the slope of your nose and the way your mouth moves as you speak, and suddenly he’s all the more grateful for the guise of his mask then he’s ever been before. 

“He’s just an asshole you know?” you ramble, eyes locked on the floor in front of you as your brain trails back to your manager's fingers in your face. “I mean he clicked in my face as if I’m like some dog,” you let out an angry huff, “seriously, get your dirty ass fingernails out of my face dude, and then he yelled in my face!” you take in a deep breath before releasing it with the rest of your frustration. 

Spiderman frowns slightly behind the mask with a shake of his head, “you want me to web him up?” he attempts and grins as your lips curl into a smile. “That would be great actually,” you giggle. 

There's a beat of silence before you start up again, “and, I don't know, I feel guilty, I think Peter keeps trying to hangout with me, I mean I refused him like twice today and I don't know…” you trail off for a moment, “It’s not like I hate him, I mean he’s annoying, but so am I, and… well I actually really like talking to him, I just,” you look up at Spiderman, “I’m not blabbing on too much?”. 

His masked face shakes slightly with a soft laugh and a, ‘You’re good.’

“I just don’t think I’m that great at being friends with people,” you exhale a sigh. 

“Well we’re friends” he adds and the Peter behind the mask feels a pang of guilt.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. 

“What you don’t think we’re friends” he quips, nudging you softly and you hum a laugh. 

“Well this is our second time talking…” you trail off and look up at him, sending a stupid grin. 

“That's okay… we just… move fast,” he mumbles and you hum in agreement with a nod, ‘really fast,’ you add and he laughs with an, ‘Exactly’.

“No… you’re right,” and you send him a genuine smile, “Thanks Spidey, for listening”. 

“Spidey huh?” he asks teasingly. “Well I’m not going to say Spiderman every time we talk” you ask with a grin, “I bet you’re not even a man,” you add teasingly. 

“What makes you say that,” he asks defensively. 

“Well first of all that was a little defensive,” you giggle, “and I don’t know,” you shrug, “I’m a teenager, I go to school with teenagers, I know how they act,” you mumble matter-of-factly with a grin. 

“Also I would be a little worried if a forty-year-old man actively sought out walking me home at night,” you add 

“Proud of your detective work are you?” he teases and you give a cocky nod. 

“Well I can’t actually tell you my age-”, he begins,

“Oh come on,” you grin, cutting him off. 

“Okay, you wanna know?” he asks, his tone is earnest and you respond with an eager nod. He pauses and leans in slightly, and you follow his action,

“I’m actually eighty,” he says and a giggle slips from his lips. You grin with an eye roll and hit his arm playfully, he lets out a joking, ‘ow’.

“I think you should have a little more respect for senior citizens,” he laughs following as you continue your route home,

“I have plenty of respect for real senior citizens,” you mumble. 

As the two of you reach your apartment block you let out a huff of pain. “I’m going to rip my feet off,” you groan, wiggling your toes in your shoe. 

“Not so sure that will do any good,” he quips and you grin. 

“What kind of apartment building doesn’t hand an elevator,” you moan, 

“Why don’t I swing you to your fire escape,” he offers sweetly, and you send him a smile, “really?” you ask. 

He hums a, ‘mhm’, and your smile curls wider, before dropping ever so slightly, “my mum… she’ll wonder why I didn't come through the front door,” and Spidey gives a shrug. 

“Maybe she just didn’t notice,” he offers, winking behind the mask before he remembers that you can’t see his face. “Yeah… why not,” you shrug dismissively with a smile. 

He wraps a tight arm around your waist, ‘which is yours?’ he asks and you point to the one lit up with a string of fairy lights with a sheepish smile, he lets out a small laugh finding your attempt at decoration sweet. 

“You’re going to need to hold onto me okay,” he mumbles and you swallow a pang of nerves with a nod of your head before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. 

He shoots a web, swinging you both upwards and you let out a small yelp at the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath your shoes. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes slam shut at the strange feeling of freefalling for short bursts of moments. 

You feel his chuckle rise with a chuckle as you cling to him tightly. Wind rushes past your ears and through your hair before you feel your feet land on the slightly shaky fire escape, it's over before it begins and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Holy shit that is terrifying,” you mumble with big eyes, a laugh escapes your lips and you meet his gaze. 

“Next time you should try opening your eyes,” he teases and you mumble a ‘next time?’ with the raise of a brow. He nods with a laugh, “I’ll take you,” he says and his voice is sweet. 

You breathe out an, ‘okay’ with a sure nod of your head. “You should see how beautiful the city is at night,” he mumbles softly and you feel a grin of admiration grow on your face. 

“I’ll look forward to it,” you smile and you wish each other a goodnight before he swings off.

TAGLIST

@chaoticcoffeequeen

[bruisedboys]

…..tasm!peter x shy!r. yes. but……i imagine peter gets really excited for you when you do things for yourself like a dork. like ordering for yourself or asking for help at the stores finding something. it’s so basic but peter knows you struggle so he just gets really excited 4 u.

screams and cries!!!! he’s so lovely I’ve died. why would u do this to me aerial

shy!fem!reader 0.7k words

Peter’s nowhere to be seen. He said he’d only be a minute getting strawberries from the fruit aisle. He’s been more than a minute. And now you’re stuck in the freezer section wondering where on earth they keep the ice cream cones, and why on earth they’re not next to the ice cream.

A worker is stacking tubs of ice cream not far from you. Normally you’d get Peter to ask for help, or he’d just do it for you without you having to ask. Either way, Peter’s not here. And your ticket to finding the cones for ice cream night with Peter is standing halfway down the aisle from you.

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet, striding up to the worker before you can psych yourself out.

“Um.” You clear your throat. Your heart is pounding. “Excuse me?”

The worker turns to look at you. She makes eye contact with you and you forget to speak for half a second before remembering what you’re doing.

“Um, sorry to bother you.” You offer an awkward smile. “But could you tell me where the ice cream cones are?”

“Of course,” she nods and smiles. “They’re just in aisle three, with the toppings.”

You smile at her, relieved that you haven’t muddled your words or embarrassed yourself too much. “Thank you so much.”

You turn on your heel, hot faced, and walk about two steps before you bump into something tall, firm and Peter shaped.

You gasp and almost stumble backwards, but Peter gets his hand around your elbow before you go falling to your demise.

You look up. Peter’s grinning wide, his fingers curled around your elbow.

“Hi, pretty,” he says. His hair is falling into his eyes. He’s got a punnet of bright red strawberries in his other hand. He’s so lovely it makes your chest ache.

“Hi,” you beam. “I found out where the cones are.”

“I saw that,” he says knowingly, nodding behind you towards the worker you’d spoken to. His hand pushes down to your forearm and squeezes. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You give him a look like you’re not totally adored by him right now. Like your heart hasn’t just swelled twice as big. You pretend to be offended.

“Were you standing here the whole time?” You ask him, eyebrows raised.

He has the decency to at least pretend to look guilty.

“Well …” He rubs the back of his neck. “Not the whole time. I came right when you were asking her and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You huff. “Right.”

Peter lets go of you and steps back. It only lasts about a second. He takes one look at you and changes his mind. He throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. He’s smiling so big you’re worried he’ll get stuck like that.

“What?” You ask, giggling and flustered from his attention.

Peter makes a happy noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and wraps his other arm around you until you’re circled in his hold. His punnet of strawberries squashed between his hand and your back. He hugs you so tight you can barely breathe, his arms like bars around your shoulders. You can’t say you care.

You’re breathless as you giggle into his chest. “Pete, what—?”

“I’m so proud of you,” he says before you can finish. You can hear his smile clear as day. He’s so earnest, so happy for you, it makes you dizzy. He dips his head down so his lips ghost over the skin behind your ear. It’s far too intimate for a grocery store. You’re too busy trying not to breathe too fast to care.

“Really, baby.” He’s murmuring into your skin and you can feel every word, goosebumps erupting underneath his lips. “You’re spectacular.”

“Pete,” you manage, hardly breathing. You push at his chest, your hands squashed between him and you, until he gives in and pulls away.

“Yeah?” He asks, head tilted like a puppy. His eyes are so bright is blinding.

“Let’s, um.” You take a big breath and try to slow your pounding heart. It doesn’t work. Peter notices too, you can see it in his smile that he knows how much he affects you. “Let’s go get the cones, yeah?”

“Okay.” Pete grins so wide his eyelashes kiss. “But can I have one more hug first?”

You indulge him. For his gain only, of course.

-

[biblio-smia]

you fell first

pairing: (tasm!) peter parker x gender neutral reader

summary: best friends to roommates to best friends with benefits wasn't your best idea.

masterlist | requests are open!

warnings: fwb/mature themes, implied smut

"pete: are u busy?"

the corners of your lips threatened to turn up at the message and you bit your lip to suppress the smile desperate to form.

you watched as your screen darkened, the notification against your lock screen fading with it. you checked the time on the corner of your laptop. 12:38 am. one, two minutes passed and you "read" the text. three, and you were out of bed, laptop forgotten, phone tossed to the side.

it didn’t take long for you to leave your room and reach peter’s, the few feet of hallway between the two of your rooms convenient now, though it had led to awkward bumping in the first few days of navigating sharing a space together.

you knocked on peter’s door, an unspoken rule since the beginning, waiting until peter opened it for you. you remembered how he mentioned having a stressful day today before disappearing into his room. you were sure that had something to do with this.

the door swung open and peter appeared, in sweatpants and lacking a shirt and you knew immediately what it was he wanted. he waited a second, waiting for you to consider it, waiting for your decision.

your arms were around peter’s neck and his hands were on your hips as the two of you stumbled into his bed.

this thing with peter started about a month into living together. you were friends first; then came the benefits. though the two of you agreed quickly that was what you both wanted. neither of you were currently looking for a relationship and even if you were, it was simply illogical to date your best friend and roommate; emotional attachment was a line both of you tiptoed, but never crossed.

a relationship would be too much. what if you broke up and couldn’t salvage your friendship? a split would divorce the friend group, too. not to mention the apartment you two shared.

the thing you loved about peter was how true to his word he was. if he promised he wouldn’t make things weird between the two of you, he wouldn’t.

no strings attached, backouts at any time. free to date anyone else. no need to let the other person know. the two of you weren't dating - though the two of you never really looked for a way away from each other.

just don't fall in love with each other. though that was always the tricky part.

「 … 」

“peter!” you called from the kitchen, shutting the fridge with a sigh.

“yeah?” peter asked from the hall, peeking his head out wearily. it wasn’t often you said his full name.

“oh, shit,” peter mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “it’s sunday?”

“it’s sunday,” you confirmed, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’ll do it,” you sighed, moving to start grabbing your things.

“no, no, it was my turn, i have to do it,” peter argued, moving in your direction to get to his things first.

“it’s fine, i wanted to get lunch anyway,” you insisted.”

“no.” peter shook his head stubbornly. another thing he was great at being.

you sighed, rolling your eyes. you weren’t getting through to him.

「 … 」

you pushed the shopping cart along the isle (only with one hand - peter insisted on pushing you to the side and pushing the cart with you, too). peter checked the list the two of you made over the week, stopping occasionally and looking for whatever item needed crossing off next.

there was a strange feeling in your chest as you watched peter and from the nervous flickering of his eyes, you could tell he was picking up on it, too.

maybe it was a little bit of annoyance as peter’s elbow bumped against your arm, or maybe it was the fact that you could’ve enjoyed your favorite snack last night if peter had gone grocery shopping when he was supposed to.

or maybe, it was the way the two of you looked.

it wasn’t how anyone in particular was looking at you; rather, it was how they weren’t looking. you and peter looked like something you weren’t, pushing a cart together and pointing for peter to pull an item off the shelf when his too-quick eyes skipped right over it.

it all felt… weirdly domestic.

which was strange, considering the two of you lived together. but you realized now that the beginnings of your living together had been nothing but platonic and now there was more attraction than either of you knew what to do it. it was physical, entirely. mostly. maybe not as much as you pretended it was.

no. this was just a physical thing. a convenience thing. a “hey i don’t want to spend time trying to find a hookup each time i want to have sex” thing. a “sure, we’re friends, right?” thing.

no emotions involved. don’t look at peter like that. don’t imagine him kissing you like he does, but softer, maybe in line to check out or maybe while putting the groceries away - oh, god.

“ha! look! they’re restocking the cinnamon toast crunch. we wouldn’t have had cereal if i went shopping yesterday.”

“you wouldn’t have had cinnamon toast crunch. you are literally the only twenty-two year old i know that still eats a bowl of sugar for breakfast.”

“okay, like you don’t always steal a bite.” peter scoffed, nudging your shoulder with his. “plus, harry loves cinnamon toast crunch.”

“only because you indoctrinated him into liking them. it doesn’t count.”

“it totally does!” peter laughed, not missing the way you turned your head to hide a smile. you couldn’t stay mad at him for long and he knew it.

"hey, hey, look," peter said excitedly, picking something off the shelf, displaying it proudly as you turned back to see what he held. "can we get the miraculous ladybug cereal?"

「 … 」

"i can't believe how expensive the eggs are!" you grumbled for probably the fifth time that trip, shuffling slowly through the checkout line with peter. usually, you'd keep these complaints in your head, but peter had the unlucky pleasure of being by your side.

peter hummed his agreement and you wondered how he wasn't sick of your complaining until you realized his focus was elsewhere - like it usually was.

peter stretched and curled and stretched his fingers, watching his hand but keeping his eyes off you. very carefully, you placed your palm against his. peter's fingers clasped between yours and he started talking about lunch but his words went in one ear and out the other.

now your focus was elsewhere and the beat of your heart drowned out anything peter was trying to say. it wasn't until peter rolled the cart forward that you heard him again, ranting on about nearby places to get food and what he was in the mood for.

you nodded along and weighed in, normally, as if holding hands with peter was nothing out of the blue. the contact with him shouldn't have shook you like it did, considering he'd been physically closer much more often, but the feeling in your chest was starting to choke you and the weight of peter's hand in yours was making you sink.

the way peter bumped you as he moved to start checking out, the smile that he flashed you as he paid for all the groceries, the shake of his head as you tried to help him carry them.

oh, god.

「 … 」

"pete: hey are u busy?" "pete: i kinda need your help"

a knowing smile tugged at yours lips as you let out a playful sigh, falling on no one’s ears but your own.

“what do you need help with now, pete?” you mumbled softly, tossing your phone to the side and briefly considering removing a piece of clothing before heading to peter’s room. you ultimately decided against it, making the short trip to peter’s door.

you’d controlled yourself since that day in the grocery store. you gave it more logical thought and considered the situation with each possible scenario. you were content now and there was no use in fixing something that wasn’t broken.

(you did need some time distant from peter to get over the fluttering of your heart when you were near him).

(but it only took a few days).

you knocked softly on peter’s door, lip bit in anticipation. you were hoping maybe he’d kiss you first tonight. you could use a little stress relief.

the door opened to reveal peter, hair disheveled and half of an outfit thrown on. “hey,” peter smiled, stepping aside to let you inside his mess of a room.

clothes were strewn across almost every inch of floor and bed and you weren’t sure peter was planning on adding to the pile.

“so, i don’t know what to wear,” peter began, a little bit of rush in his voice you were doing your best to keep up with despite the change of internal itinerary. “and i have a date in, like, 30 minutes.”

your body immediately forced a smile, your cheeks straining as your lips trembled into place.

“oh my god, peter parker has game?”

peter laughed and turned his back towards you, giving your face a chance to drop and you a chance to be grateful he didn’t notice. god, what was wrong with you?

peter dug through a small pile of shirts, shrugging the one he wore off and replacing it with another. “i think it’d make you really happy to know i still don’t. she asked me out.”

“oh?” you asked curiously, biting on the inside of your cheek. “wh-”

“how does this look?” peter turned, modeling his cargo pants and a pink and white button up shirt.

“awful,” you said bluntly, moving towards peter and unbuttoning the shirt he wore (don’t think about how many times you’d done that before). “i thought i told you to burn this?” you forced your eyes from peter’s chest to his face, watching as he rolled his eyes and pulled the shirt off his arms.

“put this on.” you threw peter a white button up instead, followed by a nice blue sweater. “and these, please,” you said, handing peter his most flattering pair of jeans.

“thank you,” peter said as he changed and you shoved clothes off his bed to make room for yourself. “you’re a lifesaver.”

“i’m gonna start charging you. and i’m gonna make you pay me $20 every time you put on a bad outfit.”

“jesus, all the food i buy you isn’t enough?” peter grinned despite the question as he did his best to fix his hair.

you shrugged. maybe nothing would be enough for you.

“it’s gwen, by the way,” peter said quickly as he finished, messing with things on his dresser to avoid looking at you.

you were quiet for a moment, staring at your fingers on your knees before you forced a laugh. “i never would’ve guessed gwen liked you.”

“yeah, right?” peter chuckled a little awkwardly, glancing at you to double check the smile you stubbornly held on your face, as if he were waiting for you to crack. he only forced his eyes off you to glance at his phone and mumble a curse. “i gotta go,” peter mumbled, grabbing the last of his things in a hurry. “i should be home in an hour or two, but don’t wait up, okay?”

“yeah, okay,” you nodded, waving at peter as he left his room, door wide open and forcing you to watch his retreating figure.

you felt glued to his bed, staring into the hall and back at your own door, listening to the front door open and shut. it wasn’t until you heard the lock click and the slow fade of footsteps that you let yourself cry.

「 … 」

the soft click of a lock signaled peter’s return, the front door sliding open and closed. you could hear peter sigh as he locked the door and hung his keys and you couldn’t help but be angry all over again.

peter’s footsteps stopped between the two of your doors and you wondered why he wasn’t going into his room before you realized he had stopped in front of yours. he changed his mind, turned around, and cut the silence of the apartment with the soft closing of his door.

you hoped he wouldn’t noticed the pile of clothes you kicked earlier.

you turned over in your bed, staring at your wall through the darkness of your room, willing tears not to force their way out of your eyes as your breathing quickened. you would not let peter hear you cry.

your phone lit up beside you and you lunged for the distraction.

"peter: hey" "peter: are you awake?"

a part of you wanted to text him back, "no." but you knew that wouldn't get you anywhere. ignoring him would have to do.

"peter: if u are i need to talk to you” "peter: please"

you turned your phone down and flipped over, balling into yourself and listening carefully to peter shuffling around. his door opened and he stopped again, giving you a feeling he was listening just as closely as you were.

"you're never asleep by now," peter accused in the softest voice an accusation could be made in and you sighed.

you could never stay mad at him for long. and he knew it.

"come in," you said, quiet, but loud enough that you knew he heard.

your door creaked open slowly and the light still on in peter's room illuminated his figure, now dressed in an old midtown high shirt and sweatpants.

"you're gonna raise the light bill," you muttered half-heartedly from under your comforter, just to say something.

"sorry," peter said even though he wasn't. "you were ignoring me."

you hated how he was just standing in the middle of your room, as if he didn't belong there.

"i wasn't," you lied.

peter sighed and placed a hand on your legs as he sat, careful not to hurt you. he didn't move his hand and you hated how his touch was warmer than your sheets.

"can you just... tell me what's wrong?" peter pried carefully.

"nothing's wrong."

peter sighed, more frustrated this time. "i know that i hurt you-"

"so then why'd you do it?" you were sat up now, anger flowing through you again.

"well, because you didn't say anything! how was i supposed to guess how you felt?" peter said defensively, moving his hand away from you.

"then maybe you should've thought about what you said to me. you said you didn't want a relationship and especially not with a friend because you didn't want to split the group apart if anything ever happened. but it's okay when it's with gwen?" your voice was louder now and you didn't even try to hide the hurt on your face. you swallowed thickly, watching the way peter couldn't even look at you. "you could've just told me you didn't want a relationship with me, peter." your voice was quiet now, which somehow hurt peter even worse.

peter stood up off your bed, taking a few steps away from you before stopping. you got up to follow. he didn't get to stand there and say nothing.

peter turned and you almost felt bad for causing the distress in his eyes. "i didn't- i only said yes because i was starting to feel something for you-"

"so it's my fault?"

"no! no, just-" peter put his hands on your shoulders, willing you to calm down. "it's not your fault. it was mine. i said that, yes, because that's what i wanted at the time. and then you just... i don't know. did something to me. but you said you didn't want a relationship either and i didn't want to ruin everything so gwen asked me out and i just... said yes! it wasn't to spite you, i promise."

you looked into peter's eyes, soft and desperate for you to believe him. you could never stay mad at him for long. and you made sure he knew it.

your fingers found his face and his hands fell to your waist in a dance the two of you had done many times before but never performed quite like this. your touch was feather-light and peter handled you like you'd slip away at any second, yet like he wanted to take his time with you. like he wanted to do it properly.

"you know, gwen told me right before she left that i was the biggest idiot she'd ever met. she asked me out to try to get me to realize i liked you," peter laughed. "she kept bringing you up and listened to me talk about you almost the entire time. i mean, that's like, red flag number one."

you laughed and stroked your thumb against peter's cheek. "i think i could work it up to forgive you," you said softly, the complete 180 making your head spin.

"i'd do anything," peter mumbled, leaning forward like you were something he simply couldn't resist. and you were in a way, his addiction, always in the back of his mind. he was unable and unwilling to part from you and he'd take any little thing you'd give him.

"i don't need much," you promised, placing your fingers on peter's lips and effectively disrupting his route to yours. "when'd you start liking me?"

peter's eyebrows furrowed and he frowned but didn't dare move your fingers, even as he spoke. "years ago, probably. i just realized it that night you fell asleep after we had sex. the only night that you did. i don't know, i just imagined you always sleeping next to me, even though we live together-"

you laughed and so did peter, your hands moving to cup his face gently. "i realized it when you forgot to get groceries and we went together."

"that recently?" peter asked with a little bit a shock in his voice, moving to get a clearer look at your face.

"hey, it wasn't that recently. at least i kept my end of the deal. no falling for each other, remember?" you mocked yourself and peter's stupid little rule.

"yeah, whatever," peter rolled his eyes playfully, leaning in to finally kiss you.

peter's lips were familiar but the feeling he brought out in you wasn't. it was something like before but about a hundred times stronger, eager and restless and wanting more. you were hungry for peter, but for his soft kisses and his tender touches. you wanted his lips on yours like how they were now, telling you how much he needed you rather than how much he wanted you. you wanted an arm around your waist and a hand in yours.

peter broke the kiss and picked you up, placing you on your bed and crawling in after you.

"will you go out with me? tomorrow, 7 pm?" peter asked softly, knees between your legs and arms caging you in.

"i'll take a look at my schedule," you grinned, placing a soft kiss on peter's lips. "i think it says yes."

"dork," peter grinned, kissing you again and dragging you down with him as he landed on your pillows. his arms wrapped around you and your head found a place against his chest. you could feel the smile on peter's face, basking in the heat radiating off of him and the quick beating of his heart.

"pete?"

"hmm?" peter hummed and you could feel the vibrations of his chest. you pushed him flat against your bed, moving up so that your face hovered above his, your fingers finding their way to his hair and stroking through it gently.

"you're not sleeping here until you turn that light off."

"oh, my god."