Ok so I’ve been thinking about how common it is for Bucky fics to include people being disturbed/uncomfortable bc of his arm BUT hear me out:
Bucky is chillin at a coffee shop with his s/o right and then they notice a mother and her son who keeps starring at his arm. His s/o notices that and they’re like “hey we can get outta here if you want” but Bucky’s like “it’s ok, I’m used to it”. Just as their s/o is gonna say something the kid and the mom goes up to Bucky mouthing a ‘I’m really sorry’ before the kid starts excitedly talking to Bucky asking things like “you’re arm is so cool! Can I touch it!? Is it real!? Can I take a picture with you!??!” And Bucky is surprised but genuinely smiles and he’s like “sure kid” and for like 10 minutes the kid is admiring his arm before the mom thanks Bucky and peels the kid from his arm and Bucky is happy.
Peter : after a mission talking to the avengers “ u ever drink water rlly intensely n it’s dripping down ur chin n shit but ur lettin it and in that moment u really and truly are a dirty slut for water?”
Tony : whispering to himself very concerned “what in the actual fuck?”
So I went running today and it was the worst experience of my life. 10/10 would not do again. Hated every moment of it and I’m sure at least one of the passerby’s heard me let out a string of curses and complaints.
I like to think that Shuri and Peter have a meme challenge and at any given time ( no matter how inconvenient) they force the other to reply with/ re-enact a meme
Mj: Just say those three words and I’m yours
Shuri through a small microphone: Peter do the thing
Peter begrudgingly and with a sigh: Welcome to chili’s
When you’re trying to get your shit together but you find yourself awake at 4am reading fan fiction under your blankets with the fan blaring and the window open while your hand is balls deep into a bag of Cheetos
This was honestly inspired by this very scene in the trailer and since the trailer just dropped, I could not resist writing about it. sorry for the many mistakes, i haven’t managed to fix them all! Also, title has nothing to do with the imagine. I was coincidentally listening to the song when i was writing this! hope you enjoy.
“That was great!”
You sneak up to Peter the moment May lets him out of her embrace and cover his eyes with your fingers. “Guess who?” You whisper quietly. Although, you reckon Peter already knew you were behind him because he chuckles and raises both of his hands to pull your fingers away from his face.
Peter turns around to look at you and he greets you with one of the brightest smiles you have ever seen on his face. “Hi, Y/N.” He says almost breathlessly, and you look up at him, giving him a smile in return. He leans down to press his lips shyly against yours and you giggle quietly, standing on the tip of your toes to deepen the kiss the slightest bit. Peter takes that chance to wrap one of his arms around your waist to pull you closer.
Despite going out with you for half a year already, Peter still tends to get rather shy when it comes to showing affection in public – especially when he can still feel Aunt May’s gaze on his back. He pulls back and can’t help the smile on his face from widening.
“So proud of you, Peter.” You pull one of your hands away from Peter’s hold to wrap an arm around his torso, leaning against him. He chuckles, nodding his head shyly. “You were amazing too, Aunt May!”
May smiles endearingly at the both of you; this is one of the few times where she has actually seen her nephew looking very happy and she’s glad you are one of the reasons as to why he looks less miserable. When May had found out about her darling Peter’s involvement as the neighborhood friendly Spiderman, she had almost fainted, worried herself over Peter’s wellbeing, ranted about how Mr. Stark had the audacity to lie right to her face and felt upset about how you seemed to know about Peter’s secret before she did and it wasn’t necessarily in that order.
It took a lot of groveling from Peter, Happy (who May learned from Peter worked for Mr. Stark) and you. Although, granted, Happy really didn’t do much groveling – he was there to supervise and step in whenever Peter had no idea how to answer any of her questions. But once she finally calmed down and listened to all of his explanations, May all but demanded to be in on the (unofficial) team as well.
The endearing scene before her lost its serenity when the door opens and Happy struggles to walk through the door with the check he is currently holding. Peter and you turn to look at the door and a smile appear on your face.
“Hey, sorry, I’m late.” Happy closes the door behind him with much difficulty and walks up to where the three of you are standing around and he pauses, looking over at May appreciatively. “You look nice.”
The moment Happy said that, you had to swallow the gasp that almost threatened to leave your mouth and just about pushed yourself even closer to Peter. He is staring at Happy and May in confusion.
May smiles, (almost shyly, you noted), and gives him the once over. “Thank you.” The smile on her face grows bigger. “You too.”
Happy moves the check over to his other hand as he still continues to stare at May. His eyes zone in on her dress and he nods his head once more. “New dress?” He definitely has never seen that on her before – Happy thinks May look absolutely beautiful in it.
This time, you had to bury your face on Peter’s chest and wonder briefly if this was how May felt whenever Peter and you tried to flirt with each other and fail miserably. Judging by how Peter is still looking at the two of them in confusion, you almost want to giggle at how clueless your boyfriend is.
Flatter over how Happy seemed to know that she had gotten a new dress, May giggles. “Yes, it is.” She looks away shyly from him, but it doesn’t last long because a few seconds after May looks away, she turns to look back at him. “How’d you know?”
This is when you decide to slowly pull Peter away from the two of them, which hadn’t been a hard thing to do because of how engrossed Happy and May seem to be with each other, and your cheeks are starting to warm now. You have always seen May as a parental figure and to see Happy and her looking at each other like that made you just a tad bit shy.
Once the two of you are a bit further away from Aunt May and Happy, Peter pulls himself away from you and stare at you in confusion. “What just happened?” He asks incredulously. Whatever he had seen just now, Peter cannot for the life of him wrap his head around it and you chuckle, throwing your arms around your boyfriend’s torso. Peter wraps his own arms around you too but he still left some space in between the two of you just so he can stare at you in absolute (adorable) confusion. “Please tell me whatever happened didn’t actually happen?” He pleads and you stand the tip of your toes to pull his head down to kiss him.
Pulling away, you made sure to hold his face in place with your hands and you stare at him. “If Happy is the one for Aunt May, Peter, I will be really happy for her. She deserves someone like him, don’t you think?”
Peter makes a choking sound before he coughs. “Y/N!” He whines. “That’s Aunt May we’re talking about.” He shivers and shakes his head. “Happy and Aunt May? How did this happen – has this been happening for a while?”
You soothingly pat your boyfriend on the back and simply smile at his antics. “I think so. I mean, I had a hunch but I think that just confirmed my suspicions. But enough talk about them, let’s talk about you, Peter. I am so proud of you tonight,” You tell him earnestly and Peter relaxes a bit, giving you a look.
“I’m glad you were here to witness it too. I had all of my favourite loved ones in the room and I felt happy.” Peter leans down so that his forehead is touching yours. “Thank you for coming tonight, Y/N.” He murmurs as his eyes slid down to your mouth. “I love you.”
Warnings: This is literally pure fluff with like a drop of angst
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: This is a residual work from the Quarentine Writing Challenge that @chaneajoyyy and @shaekingshitup held a while ago. I still have a few more that I want to write, but this was a good way for me to get back to writing again. I would like to thank every single one of you for the love and support you have shown me over these past couple of weeks and for continuing to send in requests. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! Love you allll!!!!!❤️❤️
Remember requests are open! It can be a specific prompt or from the Drabble Request list linked in the bio! Just ask to be on a tags list (or all tags lists)!
Peter takes a peek at the number of pictures that he has to sort through, sighing as he refocuses his eyes. As the photo editor for the school’s yearbook, it was his job to not only fine tune each photo, but to also to separate the photos into folders initially according to topic or group (i.e. different clubs, senior superlatives, pictures by grade level, along with senior portraits) and later by page number. 564 out of 2068. He bangs his head down on the clear area of the desk next to the keyboard, taking a few moments to take a sly nap before his body instinctively jerks him awake, making him reluctantly get back to work. He slowly moves through photo after photo until he hits a certain one. It was of you. A candid photo he took of you during his photo shoot with you the previous Saturday at Central Park. You were due to have a feature page in the “Clubs” section of the yearbook because of your founding of the Photography Club, which everyone was surprised wasn’t already a club. You insisted on taking the lead on the series of pictures that Peter scrolled through, but the one that was his favorite, the one he was planning to use, was one of the last photos that was taken. He absentmindedly taps on the computer mouse in his hand as he thinks back to the afternoon.
“You didn’t have to bring all of this stuff for these photos, they’re just for the yearbook” Peter says as he glances at the tote bag that hung on your right shoulder.
“I’m the president of the Photography Club. I’ll be damned if these photos aren’t of the utmost perfection” You make a gesture with your right hand, your left hand currently occupied by Peter’s hand. You guys continue walking looking for a relatively clear place to take the photos, at some point passing the plaque that commemorated the area that was formerly Seneca Village. You started telling Peter the story of the community that met an untimely demise until you found a perfect area for the photo shoot. It seemed as though it was untouched by the outside world, with very few people surrounding and beautiful blossoming trees.
“Alright, if you could start setting up the camera, I need to do a couple of things before we get started.” You kiss Peter on the cheek then move over to the nearby tree, setting the tote on the ground and then sitting yourself right next to it. As Peter sets up the tripod and fiddles with the setting on the camera, he watches you for a second, smiling as you pull a mirror from the bag and then a Ziploc bag of fake blue flowers then begin to strategically place them in your hair. About 5 minutes, the fixing of your makeup, and some test shots, you guys were ready. You try to pose as you feel comfortable, but you weren’t feeling the shoot. You were used to taking pictures of other people and you hated having your picture taken if it wasn’t you doing it yourself. After a few shots you go over to Peter to take a look at some of the photos that were taken and try to make the best of the situation. You give Peter some notes, seeing that upward angle pictures were a BIG no and that you needed to move to a spot with slightly better lighting.
“Hey, I got this. I promise. Your only job, Madame Prez, is to stand there and look absolutely stunning-oop” Peter stops his sentence to motion to you to stay still and takes a picture. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He chef kisses at the photo and moves the camera to your field of vision. It was fine, but the angle was a little off and it seemed you blinked, but you overall did not like how you looked in the photo and it irritated you. You anxiously pat your hair, careful not to mess with the flowers, and slowly sit down under the tree where your tote bag sat. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Peter finally looks up to see you at the tree unknowingly messing your fingers, looking as if you were counting them.
“I just hate having other people take my picture. It’s like, I get a glimpse of what people really see when they see me, and Peter, I hate it.” Peter slowly makes his way over to, squatting next to you. You grab his hand and look straight into his eyes, trying to keep yourself from crying. You didn’t normally cry this easy but for some reason this seems to be getting to you more than normal.
“Alright, let’s take some test shots. Just for fun. Gets your morale up and allows us to see what’s going on.” He stands from his crouching position next you and reaches his hand out to pull you up. He does so with a slight jerk which lands you against his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist and lips against yours. A few seconds later he pulls back from the sweet kiss and begins to fix a flower in your hair. “And, from my extremely biased but honest boyfriend perspective you look beautiful.” He kisses your nose then pulls away, checking the camera that you had no idea was still in his hand.
“What would I do without you?” Before Peter could say anything you hold up a finger, halting his words, and smile at him while raising an eyebrow. “Don’t answer. How does my hair look?”
“Absolutely gorgeous, darling.” He says in an accent as he looks at you through the camera. “Now pose” The shutter of the camera starts to go off and you just start doing crazy poses, laughing with Peter as he continuously takes photos. At one point in the frenzy of photos you began to laugh so much that each time you tried to stop, more laughs kept rolling up. Peter luckily caught a hold of himself in time to take a picture of you laughing. He stops and previews it and it was perfect. Perfectly lit. Perfectly angled. Perfectly perfect in every way because it was a picture of you. He captured your laughter in a photo, and boy did he feel lucky.
“Hey, watcha lookin at?” You make your way to him and look at the photo on the camera as Peter tilts it toward you. “Oh. Uh-wow.” You’re stunned. You would be lying if you said there hasn’t been a couple great photos of you out there that were taken by someone else, but this was truly the greatest photo of yourself that you have ever seen. “Um, I think we can take just a couple more and we should be good.” You look up from the camera, the shock probably still on your face, which quickly morphs into a soft grin toward your boyfriend, which he takes advantage of and snaps a quick photo.
“Alright let’s finish this up, Madame President.” He smiles from around the camera.
“Hey, you ready to go home?” Peter comes back to reality and turns to the door, where you stood at the door frame, absentmindedly playing with one of your new braids as you grinned at him, both eyebrows raised. “What had you hypnotized?” You make your way over to Peter and look at the computer monitor in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You scan over the shining photo of yourself. The joy of the photo seemed to have supernatural properties because everything seemed much brighter, happier while you looked at the photo. “So, that’s the photo, huh? The one that everyone will see and be like ‘Hey, it’s that…girl. You know the one that started that…picture club or whatever. Yeah, she was pretty cool’.” You act out the scene as Peter kisses your cheek then goes to make sure everything he has done was saved before shutting down the computer.
“Hey, come on now. You’re the founder of THE Photography club. You are now a part of this school’s history.” He finishes packing up his things then flings his backpack on his right shoulder, pulling you close to him with his left arm.
“It’s a pretty great photo, isn’t it?” You ask as Peter kisses your temple and begins to lead you two out the year book room.
“Absolutely gorgeous, darling.” He says in the same accent as he did the day of the photo shoot which leaves you two laughing as he swiftly turns the light of the room off and you guys exit.
summary: Christmas Eve is a mixture of things for reader this year, and Peter preps for her to meet Aunt May.
notes: oof this took longer than i intended TT_TT sorry! some weird dream stuff and some magic stuff and some little tidbits about reader here. i also just love cameos u wu take the greek with a grain of salt, if you would ; ;
Christmas Eve came, and found Peter and [Y/N] meeting at her apartment in the afternoon. She was feeling better—after three days of Aunt May’s soup, her grandmother’s recipes, and a firm regimen of cold/flu combo meds, she was sniffle-free and out and about again (if bundled up a little more, since their plan was to go walking and look at the Christmas lights). She met Peter at the door, wrapped in a number of dark layers, a thick beanie and bulky knit scarf, boots, and gloves warmly in place, and Peter in his layers and his parka and pom-pom hat grinned at her from the steps as she emerged and locked up, smiling. “Well you look much better!” “It’s the lipstick,” she joked, “makes me look like myself again.” He leaned in to give her a quick kiss while she was right at eye-level on the steps with him. “You looked like yourself without the makeup,” he replied earnestly, smiling at her affectionately, “just, y’know, a very sniffly and sneezy version of yourself.” She snorted, rolling her eyes, but took his arm when he offered and trotted down the sidewalk with him. “Well, you look a little like a marshmallow right now, so I guess I’ll let that slide.” He laughed, and as she leaned against his side, Peter thought nothing had felt so normal or so comfortable for so long now, part of him wasn’t even sure how to react. But [Y/N] was warm against him and the air was cold and crisp, and the day was gray but otherwise nice, and he was happy.
They made their way down Bleecker and [Y/N] filled him in on a few of her neighbors, and the neighborhood stories she knew. That building had burned down some years ago, this apartment was supposed to be haunted, that shop’s owner was secretly with the mob…they window shopped, passing a few boutiques and she took a picture of him next to a weirdly youthful-looking Santa painted on a shop window that she said looked like him. “I used to walk with Nona to get groceries and run errands,” she explained as they walked, now hand-in-hand, under a few trees strung with white lights. “She knew everybody. I—oh,” she spotted the doctor heading up his stoop up as they passed, and he cast a glance at her, smiling a bit wryly to himself. “Good to see you out and about again,” he remarked, and she grinned. “I should send you the bill for my cold meds,” she joked, and he got his door open, heading in. “And I wouldn’t pay it. Enjoy your walk.” “Peter, this is Doctor Stephen Strange, and if you ever need any help with your health he’s apparently no use.” Peter blinked, raising an eyebrow a little but gamely playing along. “Oh, uh, it’s nice to meet you then Doct—” “Not yet,” the man cut him off, and promptly shut his door on the two of them. [Y/N] blinked a few times, but shrugged it off and led Peter along again. “What was that about?” “Oh I have no idea,” she replied, “I’m pretty sure he’s psychic or something, but I also know if I ask him, he’s just going to say ‘no’ whether it’s the truth or not, so I don’t bother. But I’m still sure he’s psychic.” Peter’s brow knit a little as they walked, digesting this, and he decided it was better to just accept it at face value. “Wait, his name is actually Doctor Strange?”
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The park was busy as usual, but mostly with people traveling through on their way shopping or to parties—they spotted more than one group of people in formalwear or approximations of it taking pictures together. They themselves got some warm coffees to hold onto and sip while they peoplewatched, and took a few of their own photos. Night fell, the lights glowed bright around them, and they walked on through the park together, rosy-faced and grinning as snow tried its best to fall. “So you’ll be at May’s tomorrow?” Peter asked as they strolled down a lane of lit-up trees, walking backwards to face her. [Y/N] smiled, nodding. “I will be at May’s tomorrow. I even got her a present.” He skidded to a stop, eyes wide. “What! I thought we agreed to no gifts!” She breezed past him, smiling smugly to herself. “We did agree no gifts. Aunt May did not.” “That is not—“ he still smiled, catching up to her quickly. “You didn’t have to get her anything,” his voice was softer now, and more sincere. She shrugged, smiling. “First impressions are important, and I’m looking forward to meeting her, and she sent that soup to me when she didn’t have to. Besides, it’s small anyways, it’s not like I really knew what to get her in the first place.” Peter stopped, and this time she stopped too, looking up at him as the few scattered people still out walking went around them. He looked almost disbelieving, smiling at her like it was the only thing he knew how to do. He moved close, taking her face in his hands, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “What did I say?” “Nothing,” he breathed out, voice full of laughter, “everything. I think I love you, [Y/N//Y/L/N].”
[Y/N]’s eyes went wide and she felt herself go still, hearing this, and for a moment Peter looked terrified, realizing what he’d said, but [Y/N]’s eyes softened, her cheeks went just a little more pink, and she smiled, reaching her hands up to rest on top of his. “I think I love you too, Peter Parker.” And maybe she meant it. Maybe it was okay, just then, even if neither one of them meant it out loud, because it was, for that minute, in the freezing park under the Christmas lights, snowflakes not quite clinging to their clothes and hair, what they both felt—and that was enough. Still, as he leaned in and kissed her, Peter hoped it was real, and lasting. After all the mistakes he’d made and the things he’d lost and done wrong, a small part of him felt like he didn’t deserve that, knew that he was hiding things from her, knew that maybe he couldn’t ever let her in on all of his secrets, and maybe that would be too much. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to accept that, maybe she would end up wanting more than he could give, maybe this would go horribly wrong. Her lips curled up into a smile against his, and he forgot about everything worrying him.
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Peter walked [Y/N] to her brownstone again, hand-in-hand and smiling ear to ear all the way there. Her antique porch lamp was on, but otherwise her apartment seemed dark inside; on the stoop, they stopped, and stood together outside her door. “So.” She smiled a little, took a quick breath, and for the first time she looked nervous to him. “Christmas with Aunt May tomorrow.” Peter nodded, squeezing her gloved hands. “You really want to come?” “I-I really do,” she nodded, chewing her lips a little, and glancing down. Peter’s smile faltered some. “…But, there’s something bothering you.” He leaned in, trying to catch her eyes and get her to look at him. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s wrong?” [Y/N] exhaled quietly, looking up at him. “Peter, are you sure she’s going to be okay with me?”
There was a pause, and Peter took in what she’d said, his eyes briefly looking her over. In her thick black coat and her chunky black knit beanie and scarf, her torn black lace stockings over the dark purple ones, the knee-high black boots he called her pirate boots (which always got a giggle), her black gloves…and her dramatic dark eye makeup, her numerous earrings, and her black lipstick. She was no MJ, no Gwen Stacy, nothing like anybody he’d ever brought around Aunt May, and he definitely knew she understood that. “I can…I can tone it down tomorrow, I mean I know it’s an important day to her, I don’t want—“ “—You don’t need to change anything,” he said firmly, meeting her eyes without hesitation, and rested a soft, mitten-covered hand on her cheek, smiling affectionately. “You’re beautiful. And you’re my girlfriend, and that’s what matters.” She smiled a little, but raised an eyebrow at him. “Just that?” Peter seemed to realize his misstep and backtracked a little, smiling when he saw her smile and knew she was teasing anyways. “No! No, of course not—you’re also—also very nice. And smart! And funny!” [Y/N] laughed at this, swinging their arms a little. “I’mfunny??” “You’re funny!” “I don’t think I’ve ever been told that before—“ “You are! I’m laughing right now!” “Oh my god…” She laughed, shaking her head, “Peter you’re such a dork…” but he leaned in, taking advantage of the uplift in her mood, and kissed her forehead. “I’m a dork and I managed to get a girl as cool as you to like me. And my Aunt May is gonna think the same thing.” “That you’re a big dork and I’m cool?” he laughed again. “Yes!” “I don’t know if that’s a good thing, but okay.” She smiled, and wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back a little to look up at him. “You wanna give that another go?” He took her chin and kissed her, smiling against her lips, and when she leaned back again, her smile sobered. “I can at least wear normal makeup tomorrow,” she said softly, and he gave her another quick peck on the lips, leaning his forehead against hers. “I like your makeup, no matter what you do. Just be yourself.” “Okay.” She breathed out a soft little laugh, and nodded against his head, bumping foreheads a little before turning to unlock her door. “Go home before you freeze out here, my big darling dork.” Peter took a step or two down and turned to watch her get inside safely. “You sure you’re okay? I’m gonna wait until your lights are on.” “I’m fine,” she assured him, clicking on her front room lights for good measure and smiling. “See?” He gave her a lopsided grin. “I just worry,” he admitted, “Big empty house, you all alone in there…” “I’m okay,” she smiled at him affectionately, “Promise. I have a phone, and a taser, and a baseball bat, and a bunch of nosy neighbors,” she grinned. He smiled. “Not even afraid of ghosts?” [Y/N], instead of laughing like he’d imagined, just smiled. “There are no ghosts here,” she said gently, “They’ve all moved on by now.” And that caught him off-guard enough for her to swoop down and kiss him one more time before hopping back up the steps, smiling. “Now go home, my dear. Your aunt is gonna hate me if you get sick too!”
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[Y/N] showered and put on a load of laundry before deciding to head to bed at last; making sure the place was locked up and her lights were all off took a minute, and as she headed up her staircase, she thought about what Peter had said. Upstairs, the hallway to her bedroom passed a storage closet, her upstairs study, and the doors to her grandmother’s old room, and the room that had been her mother’s, years and years ago. Her own bedroom was technically an attic, but to reach those stairs, you had to first traverse the hallway, and [Y/N] sighed softly to herself at the closed doors. She hadn’t been able to go into her mother’s old room. That door remained shut, and she could feel the emptiness there even from outside. Her mother hadn’t used that room in years—since before she herself was born—but her grandmother had left it alone even after she’d moved in, too. [Y/N] knew that even her strong nona hadn’t been able to really face that wound on such a regular basis, and she couldn’t blame her. Tonight, she thought of ghosts, and for the briefest moment standing there in her empty brownstone in front of a room that had been empty longer than she could remember, she felt inescapably sad. “No, you didn’t stay.” she said quietly, to no one at all.
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It was 3:13 on the dot when [Y/N] woke up in a wild bubble of clarity.
She hadn’t had a dream like this in years. Rushing with startling precision, she slipped out of bed in her nightgown, didn’t bother with slippers or robe, and barefoot, she first tossed an old journal and pen onto her bed, and then went for her shelves. She grabbed her little old cauldron and quickly lit a charcoal tab, rummaging for the herbs she wanted, whispering to herself all the while to keep track of the dream. The adrenaline rush from waking so suddenly and so completely would likely wear off soon enough, and chill would settle into her bare skin, but right now she was determined to take care of this. Shorthand would do for now. A few rosemary leaves, a few rose petals. A ground juniper berry, a drop of dragon’s blood. Sage. The dry herbs and oil caught and began to smolder, and as the tendrils of smoke wafted up out of the little cauldron’s pot, she breathed deep and shut her eyes, recalling the dream. Her hands went blindly for one chest of stones that she knew, even sightless, and she let herself be drawn to what she would be, holding the stone in her palm and steadying her breathing.
Her grandmother. She’d seen her grandmother—she was standing on a high, grassy hill, in the moonlight, overlooking some ancient temple, and before she could tread down the hill to investigate, her grandmother had been there, beside her. “Do you think you’re ready for that?” she’d asked, her aged face lined with concern. Nona had always encouraged her to follow her intuition, to believe in her own power, in her own ability, but now, she looked quietly worried. [Y/N] had paused, torn for a moment between the temple, and wanting to embrace her grandmother. She felt tears in her eyes, and turned back to the strange stone building, watching the light from strange fires inside of it. “I can always come back,” she’d said, but when she looked back, her grandmother was no longer there, and she was standing on the hill facing her mother. Her throat constricted and her chest felt tight; her mother smiled at her, dark hair and dark eyes, just like she could remember her, but somehow different too. “No,” she said gently, “You can’t. But I think you’ll be all right, [Y/N/N].” “M-mom…” she’d breathed it out, feeling the tears falling down her cheeks, but still rooted to her spot. “You’re gonna be okay,” her mother said, and just smiled. “Σκώρος. καθρέπτης. Δύο φλόγες. ἰχώρ.” [Y/N] felt something strange come over herself, watched as her mother swept close and took her face in her hands, felt wind come rushing up the hill around them, billowing her mother’s dark hair like a flag. “Hecate, Hecate, Hecate,” her mother chanted softly, “Final of three. You’ll be okay. Remember. The mirror is a door.” [Y/N] shook her head, holding onto her mother’s hands on either side of her face as if to keep her there, tears still falling. “Mom—I don’t understand,” she got out, sniffling some, “I miss you.” Her mother’s smile was kind as she stroked her daughter’s cheek. “I’m always with you, honey. You know that.” She let out a soft, sweet laugh, and leaned in to kiss [Y/N]’s forehead. “You can trust the spider, little moth.”
In [Y/N]’s hand was a palm stone, soft purple and mottled with a lacy white, lepidolite. She had to wipe at her face with her free hand, sniffing quietly and wetting her lips. “You finally show up when I call you out about it, huh mom?” She whispered, swiping at her damp cheeks. “And I have no idea what you’re even talking about.” She swallowed, taking a deep breath and letting her eyes find her statuette of Hecate in the low light. That detail she did understand. Her eyes met the eyes of the little statue, and she turned the lepidolite over in her hand a few times. “Hecate, Hecate, Hecate,” she murmured, recalling how her mother had said it in the dream, “‘The mirror is a door’? Mom, what the hell…”
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Christmas morning was cheery and warm at Aunt May’s; Peter was over early every year with presents and a kiss on the cheek, and already May’s apartment smelled like baked goods and Christmas dinner. “Where’s your girlfriend?” She gasped, seeing Peter by himself, and he looked a little sheepish. “She’s coming in a little bit! She said she’d be here around noon, I just always come early and I thought—” “Peter! You should have come along with her!” Peter let Aunt May toddle into the kitchen with him, settling at her little table and setting his gifts down. “Well, I also…I wanted to talk about her before she’s here,” he admitted, and May gave him a curious look from her place back at the stove. “And why is that?” “Well she’s…she’s just nervous about meeting you,” he got out, rubbing the back of his neck, “And I mean, I understand, she’s not—she’s just—“ May put a hand on her hip and waved a wooden spoon at Peter. “Now Peter, did you make this girl think I’m that scary?” “No! No, what—no, you’re not scary, May, it’s just…” “Just what?” “[Y/N] is…she’s not like anybody else I’ve had around. She’s definitely no Mary Jane.” “Well, the way you’ve talked about her, I’m sure she’s a nice girl.” “She is! She just doesn’t look—” “Peter Parker, I know I raised you better than that. I’m sure she’s perfectly lovely. Tell me something important about her.” Peter smiled a little lopsided smile at this, gazing out at nothing and thinking of [Y/N]. “She’ssmart. She’s in an internship with a scientist that was in the paper, and she’s just…she’s so smart. And she likes taking pictures—she might be better than me at it! She’s nice, too. She always tips when we get anything to eat. The baristas at the coffee shop we like all know her. The little old lady in the park that feeds the birds, the one with the little dog? She knows her by name! Her name is Florence, and her dog’s name is Tippy, and [Y/N] brings Tippy dog treats and has birdseed for Florence.” He smiled to himself, thinking about all of this. “She knows her neighbors, and talks to them. She’s funny, but she doesn’t mean to be sometimes, I think. She lives by herself in this big brownstone in Greenwich and she likes to read and I think she believes in ghosts, and she makes her own tea…” Aunt May was looking at him fondly when he looked up again, smiling broadly. “Peter, I don’t think it matters what this young lady looks like.” She came up in her apron and patted his cheek affectionately, “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you look this way. How could I not like someone who makes you this happy, hmm?” And Peter ducked his head a little, laughing softly as May headed back to her pots and pans. “I really like her, Aunt May.” “I can tell,” May replied sagely, smiling to herself. “I think I’m in love with her.” “Then I’d better make sure all of this food tastes good!”
warnings: tw for food, illness, brief discussion of death / death mention
summary: reader catches a very unfortunate cold at an inopportune time–peter takes the day to come play nurse.
notes: a shorter installment–i’m sick right now myself might have another one up soon, possibly tomorrow if i can get it finished! fingers crossed, haha
The morning after her run-in with Spider-Man and her amazing date with Peter, she’d woken up sniffly—and the next two days she’d toughed it out with some over-the-counter cold meds, but by that Saturday, there was no more denying it: she was definitely sick. Fever-ridden and a little hazy from how congested her sinuses were, [Y/N] couldn’t help but think, if briefly, that this was somehow her neighbor’s fault. ‘You’ll mind being sick later’—but she knew that was nonsense. Dr. S had a strange name, but he was just a guy who lived a few blocks over on Bleecker Street, not a psychic, after all.
Peter had that Saturday free, as it happened, and had been planning on spending it with [Y/N]; they’d agreed they would forego Christmas presents (since she didn’t really celebrate and Peter was looking to get himself a new motorbike) but he was determined to figure out something small to do for her all the same. They were officially a couple now—[Y/N] was his girlfriend, and that on its own made him want to do something special for her, holidays aside. But when he called her that morning, she sounded awful.
“‘Morning, P…”
“Whoa, I didn’t wake you up did I? It’s almost 10—“
“Wake me—no,“ there was a sniffle on the other end, “no, I think I’ve got a cold.“ A little shivery cough, and then, “…I’m basically absolutely sure I have a cold.”
“Oh god—you sound awful—n-no offense—do you need anything? Can I bring you anything? Are you okay?”
“No, I-I’m good, I’m just trying to sleep it off, really…I might see if one of my neighbors can run to the grocery for me later. Sorry Peter, I really wanted to see you today…”
He hadn’t felt this put-out over anything in weeks. But then something hit him, and he paused, before calling up Aunt May.
————————————————
[Y/N] was in bed; she’d been drifting in and out of napping, a box of tissues and her little trash bin next to her bed along with a few bottles of water and her laptop, which had finally given her too much of a headache to even look at anymore and now sat closed on her nightstand. She’d been considering going and adjusting the heat, going and digging through her pantry, going and even trying to watch TV or sleep on the sofa or something, but so far nothing had gotten her up. Her head was still foggy and a little achy, and she felt sluggish and sniffly, but at least she thought maybe her fever had gone down. Her phone pinged, muffled from where it had slipped down into her thick black comforter, and after an aggravated moment of digging through her bedding, she pulled it out and took a minute to blow her nose for the thousandth time while reading the message.
peter :What’s your address? Aunt May insisted on sending you some of her chicken noodle soup. It’s home-made, and I can swear it’ll fix your cold up.
She smiled at the phone, sighing a little. He was so sweet—she probably wasn’t contagious at this point, and she did want to see him…
me:well, if aunt may went to all that trouble then i can’t say no
She glanced around at the mess on her floor from the tissues that had missed the little black trash can and the empty water bottles, and finally heaved herself up out of her nest of bedding to tidy up a little.
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Peter’s eyes widened a little at the text showing her address, even standing on the corner of her street now. Aunt May had been surprised he didn’t know where she lived, but then more surprised still when they looked to see where it was. “My goodness, she lives in the Village?” And he wasn’t completely sure what to make of the way she’d said it, but facing the stoop that was supposed to be hers, he was starting to form an idea. She lived in a townhouse—not just an apartment, a whole townhouse, and not just a townhouse, a brownstone. It looked a little—a lot—aged, but the windows on the front were clean and the plants had been trimmed back for the winter, and the stoop was clean, the black metal fencing not rusted at all. For a moment, he wondered suddenly if she lived with someone she hadn’t told him about, and god he hoped he looked presentable enough as he climbed the stoop to ring her doorbell. It took a moment, long enough for him to panic a little that maybe he’d gotten the wrong place, but then sure enough, the door opened and there was [Y/N], cheeks rosy, nose red, fluffy black bath robe tucked close around her, old black slippers on her feet, hair a little mussed but tied back, and most notably her makeup was off and her eyes were a bit red—but overall, somehow, he couldn’t help but think she looked adorable as she saw that it was him, gave him a little smile, and shuffled in a little to let him inside, wiping at her face some with a tissue in her hand. “Hi,” she got out, tissue at her nose, “Come on, you’ll get sick standing out here too.” And just like that, her large, old door was shut behind him, and he was inside her brownstone with her.
Immediately, he felt mildly chilly—it was the feeling of emptiness, rather than the literal temperature of the air. Her foyer was narrow and a little claustrophobic, but she showed him where he could hang his coat, and then led him out and into the apartment proper. The place looked like her; dark wallpaper on the walls—actual wallpaper! It was a dark, deep purple and patterned with a sort of floral pattern. The floors were a varnished almost black wood, but she had rugs, older, somewhat eclectic rugs here and there, running the little corridor connecting the foyer with the front sitting room and then into the open, atrium of a room that had, he could see from there, the staircase. The front room was clean, but didn’t look terribly lived-in: a library, dark walls lined with shelves of old books and little knicknacks, some large rocks and crystals, a few animal skulls, pressed flowers in frames…the furniture was very vintage, obviously antique, but upholstered in deep violet fabric and adorned with black and gray and purple cushions; a loveseat, a small armchair, and a little coffee table. The most personal part of the room was at the bay windows, there was a reading nook, and resting there was a blanket in dark green with black patterns on it, and a stack of books resting on the cushioned seat. Peter smiled, seeing it, imagining [Y/N] sitting there and reading with her blanket. “My grandmother liked to use this room to entertain,” she said from the doorway, smiling, “I redecorated, but really only the colors. A lot of the things on the shelves were hers, and my mother’s.” Peter looked over at her. “Just the colors?” “I reupholstered the furniture. I always liked the style—was a nice project for me. Did the reupholstering, fixed up the wood finish, painted the shelves and had the wallpaper updated…” His eyes went wide as she gestured around. “You did all of this yourself?” “It was…nice,” she replied, sniffling a little and smiling to herself as she looked at the room, obviously remembering, “After she died. She’d always said it was important to make a space your own when it became yours—and it took me a year or so after she died to get around to it, but I got it done.” Peter followed her down the narrow hallway, past the paintings of landscapes on the walls, and into the adjoining room; it was like an atrium, high-ceilinged and with a little chandelier hanging from the apex of the roof, the staircase wrapping up around the wall to lead upstairs. Across from the dark stairs was a wide entryway into another living area: two plush, dark sofas, another short dark coffee table, a dark, soft area rug on the floor, a television. This room was much more lived-in; quilts on the sofas, some magazines and a remote on the coffee table, a few journals and notebooks, a spare pair of slippers. There were more shelves in here, these with movies and green plants, a few more books. A few antique light fixtures and an antique lamp, some used candles here and there. Under the stairs, though, was another entry, this one into a dining room that looked hardly touched, and then from there into a kitchen that linked the two rooms, and had a door leading outside and to the fire escape on the back of the building. The kitchen was cute, eccentric, spice racks and dark cabinets, plants, windchimes and suncatchers hanging, papers and notebooks on the kitchen island bar, dried herbs hanging over the countertop. It smelled like good food and it certainly smelled used, lived-in, and welcoming. “You cook?” He asked, watching her set the container of soup from Aunt May on the stove. She smiled. “I do; my grandmother liked to cook and I was always in the kitchen with her.” She opened the container, and smiled at the smell, closing her eyes a moment. “Ohh, this smells amazing.” She shut it again, sneezing into her tissue and looking apologetic. “You really didn’t have to come all the way over here while I’m like this…” “No!” Peter pushed off of the bar where he’d been leaning, stepping up closer to her, “No, if anything this is exactly when I should come all the way over here…” he rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly, smiling, “I didn’t realize you lived here, though,” he glanced out the kitchen windows, “You’re the one that’s been coming all the way over to Queens to see me!” [Y/N] just smiled, rubbing her nose. “I mean, I don’t mind it. I’m over there a lot for work, anyways.” Peter shifted a little closer, eyes on her rosy face. Even sick, she just looked…sweet. Lovely, in a disarming sort of way. “Well, then maybe now I can start coming over here, too.” [Y/N]’s smile widened a little, dimpling her cheeks. “I wouldn’t mind that, Parker,” she admitted, her voice soft and affectionate, and when he leaned in to kiss her it would have been perfectly charming and delightful if she hadn’t immediately sneezed and jerked back, just barely managing to cover her nose. Peter just laughed as she groaned and blew her nose, throwing her tissue away and shaking her head. He grinned, watching her shuffle to the trash can and back. “We can…we can try that again, y’know.” She sighed a very dramatic sort of sigh. “Maybe when it’s not such a hazard…” But Peter ducked down and kissed her cheek anyways. “I don’t know, it’s not so bad.”
————————————————
They shared Aunt May’s soup up in her bedroom. Peter was still a little in awe at how big the townhouse was, and that she lived alone, but her room was massive—like a studio apartment in itself. Black decor, moths and butterflies pinned in cases, plants and charms hanging around her room. Tapestries of the moon and its phases, of strange charts and symbols on her walls. Shelves with more crystals and odds and ends, candles, little statues he didn’t recognize. A desk and chair, and a high ceiling with a skylight opposite the side of the room her bed was on. They sat, she on her bed and he on the chair from her desk set next to her, and she chatted a little about the house as he tried (despite her repeatedly telling him it was fine) to fuss over her, made sure she had tissues handy and her water bottles were full and her pillows were all arranged comfortably. “My family owned this whole building years ago; it was a boardinghouse for a long time, but then they renovated, turned the building into apartments, and sold most of the other units,” she explained, “My parents and I lived in another unit, but my mother grew up here with my grandparents, and when my mom and dad died my grandmother took me in.” Peter paused on a spoonful of soup, watching her. “How…how old were you?” “Nine,” she replied, and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind if you ask.” He went a little pink, looking caught. “I still feel…like I don’t know how to tackle this kind of thing,” he admitted, “Even after losing my Uncle Ben.” She nodded, watching him. “It was recent?” “Yeah. Not quite ten years ago.” “Death is a strange kind of thing,” she said evenly, “It’s a natural part of time and life and the progression of everything but it still feels like it’s never the right time, like you can never really prepare for it.” He nodded. “Yeah.” “Losing my grandmother was like that, too,” she sighed, “Especially her leaving me the house and her things and all…” she shook her head, “Like I had all these things that were mine all my life but that felt like they weren’t supposed to be mine anymore…” she shrugged, “It was a weird process. Still is, in a lot of ways.” She glanced around, gesturing vaguely. “But, I grew up here. When she left me the brownstone, it was like…okay, this is mine now. I always loved living here, so…” she shrugged, “It’s my space, now.” Peter smiled at her, after a moment, feeling strangely touched to be sitting in this apartment with her. “Thanks for letting me in, then,” he said softly, and she smiled at him. “My grandmother would have liked you,” she grinned a little privately to herself, rolling her eyes fondly as she took another sip of soup. “I would never have heard the end of it if you’d showed up here with soup for me and she was still around.” Peter let out a little laugh. “That’s a relief, then.” “But she would have given you the business about bringing someone else’s soup for me,” she laughed, “Nona was The Cook around here.” She slurped up a piece of noodle, “I’m glad you did though. This is really good.” “I’ll pass that along to my Aunt,” he nodded, grinning, “She’s really disappointed you’re sick, she’s been hounding me to get you to come do Christmas with us.” [Y/N] paused, hearing this, and Peter rambled on a little awkwardly. “I told her you don’t really do Christmas, and you know, that you’re sick, just—” “—You want me to meet her?” Peter paused. For a charged moment, he and [Y/N] just sat in the quiet, looking at each other, and then he nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, “I really do.”
[Y/N]’s [e/c] eyes lit up, and her whole expression softened. “If I feel better, I’d love to do Christmas at your Aunt’s place.” Peter’s spoon clinked a little hard against his bowl in his lap, and his face was delighted. “Really? That’s—“ he was at a temporary loss, just smiling from ear to ear. “That’s…that’s great! Aunt May’ll be so excited, she’ll probably go a little nuts cooking, and I know you don’t really celebrate but you don’t have to—“ [Y/N] leaned over and pressed her lips to his, quieting the steady flow of words and smiling against his skin. Peter went still for a second, but then melted into the kiss and leaned closer to her on the bed, reaching up and cupping her cheek. This time, she didn’t sneeze, and nobody’s phone interrupted them. This time, their lips were both warm and soft, they tasted like chicken noodle soup and [Y/N]’s skin was maybe just a little too warm, but otherwise? It was perfect.
But, like all perfect things in Peter’s life these days, this made him realize how afraid he was that it could be taken away.
today is multiverse monday! send me requests containing any au you can think of, be it rockstar au, camboy au, lawyer au, hybrid au, or more. requests are open for any of the fandoms that i write for, so request away!
pairing/AU: university AU – student!tom holland x female student!reader
summary: there’s this girl in tom’s class that he can’t seem to get out of his head. she’s pretty, funny and kind, and every time she looks at him, he gets weak in his knees. but he can’t seem to find the courage to ask her out. not until a friday night uni party turns into the best night of his life
warnings:lovesick tom (like super lovesick), fluff, mentions and drinking ofalcohol, swearing
word count:6.1k
a/n: this story is heavily inspired by the two songs powders by alt-j and don’t delete the kisses by wolf alice so i’d recommend giving them a listen if you haven’t heard them before. both songs are super soft and i wanted to capture that in my fic. this is also my first attempt at writing from tom’s perspective, so we’ll see how that’s gonna go. english is not my first language so if you see any spelling/grammar mistakes, no you didn’t (also i’m not a writer)
Tom’s backpack felt heavy on his back as he stepped inside Professor Larsen’s auditorium. He really didn’t want to be here at 8am on a Monday morning for a three-hour lecture, and he especially didn’t want to be here this Monday morning. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong today, and it was only 8am. He’d snoozed his alarm a few times too many this morning – leaving him short on time to get ready. He hadn’t had the chance to eat any breakfast either, since his roommate and best friend Harrison hadn’t done the food shop he’d promised to do during the weekend, leaving their shared kitchen snubbed of anything resembling breakfast food. They didn’t even have bread! To make matters worse, when Tom stepped foot outside his flat and into the rainy London air, his bus had driven passed, splashing and soaking him in puddle water, and making him late for class.
So here he was in Professor Larsen’s auditorium. Fifteen minutes late, stomach screaming out for food, and his clothes soaked through to the bone. He quietly made his way down the stairs, careful not to draw any attention to himself and interrupting the class. Half-way down the stairs he found the blond head of hair belonging to his best friend. He sat down with a huff at the end seat, giving Harrison an annoyed look.
“Whydid you leave without me? And why didn’t you do the food shop this weekend? It’s yourturn!”, Tom harshly whispered to his friend.
“Wow, someone clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed today…”, Harrison’s whisper trailed off when he saw Tom’s soaked clothes. “Wait, what happened to you?”
“Whathappened to me!? A bus splashed puddle water all over me is what happened to me!”, Tom scream whispered back. Just as Harrison was about to answer Tom, a hush and a “Can you guys be quiet?” came from the row behind them.
Tom felt anger bubbling inside of him. It really wasn’t like him, what he was about to do, but this day was testing his patience. He quickly turned around, ready to curse this person out, but when he saw the girl sitting right behind him, all his anger simmered down.
He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Looking at this girl he felt like all air had left his lungs, like he’d run a marathon and now needed to catch his breath. When she locked eyes with him, one eyebrow raised waiting for an answer, Tom felt his cheeks warm up. “Yeah… ehm…sorry”, he softly whispered before he slowly turned around in his seat, ears burning. When did he get this shy?
The first hour of the lecture Tom had a hard time focusing on anything Professor Larsen said. His thoughts wandering to the girl behind him. Who was this girl? And why hadn’t he seen her before? He pondered.He was well over a month into the fall semester already, and he’d been an uncharacteristically good student these first four weeks, showing up for all his classes. He should have seen her in this class!
“Okay you guys! It’s 09.15 so I think it’s time to take a break. Be back here in 15 minutes!”, Professor Larsen’s voice brought Tom back to reality. He had been lost in his thoughts. Beside him Harrison stood to his feet. “I’m gonna go get a coffee in the canteen”, he said. “I’ll come with”, Tom mumbled as he quickly shut his laptop, where his blank word document had stared back at him for the past hour.
When Tom got up from his seat, he saw that you’d done the same. You had your back turned, chatting with another girl on the row behind you while you waited for your friend beside you to gather her things. When he passed you, while climbing the auditorium stairs, he quickly nodded his head in your direction asking Harrison: “Do you know who that girl is?”
Harrison turned his head following Tom’s eyes, “Who? Y/n?”
“Y/n?”, Tom questioned.
“Yeah, y/n! She was in Professor Stanley’s class last semester, and in Professor Nguyen’s class our first semester. She’s always hanging out with Amira and Sophie”
“Sophie? As in…”,
“Max’s girlfriend”, Harrison finished Tom’s sentence.
This new information puzzled Tom. How has he never seen this girl before? You had a lot of mutual friends. He’d done a group project with Amira in Professor Nguyen’s class, and he hangs out with Max all the time.
15 minutes later, back in the auditorium, Tom quickly gave up on listening to Professor Larsen. He couldn’t get you out of his head, constantly fighting the urge to turn around in his seat to steal a glance at you. When the class was over, he’d decided that he’s was going to talk to you. But when he turned around after gathering his things, you had looked at him while giving him a warm smile making his mind go blank. He stood paralyzed watching you quickly put your stuff away in your tote bag as he searched the depth of his mind for something to say to you. But before he could find something to say, Harrison nudged his arm, urging Tom get a move on.
The rest of the week you plagued Tom’s mind. He’d memorized how you’d looked that day, and the smile you’d sent him had replayed in his mind a million times. How awkwardly he had stood watching you, struggling to find something to say, had also replayed in his mind a million times, making him cringe at himself wishing the ground could have swallowed him up where he stood. He really wanted to get to know you. He really wanted to ask you out. There was just something about you that drew him in. Something he’s never felt before. You made him nervous – something he never got around girls. Tom had always been well aware of how a lot of girls wanted him. And ever since he started university two years ago, he’d had no problem finding a girl for a one-night stand after a drunken night. But this, you. The thought of talking to you, made him feel like an insecure twelve-year-old boy again.
When Monday rolled around again Tom strutted confidently into the auditorium for Professor Larsen’s 8am class. He had a plan. He was going to talk to you today. When he saw you seated in the same spot where you’d sat last Monday, next to Sophie, he quickly snagged the seat behind you. When the first break rolled around it was go time! The plan was to be set in motion. He was going to say hi to Sophie, hoping she would introduce him to you, and then ask if they wanted to join him in buying a cup of coffee in the canteen. Sophie was his way in. It was a solid plan! What could go wrong?
He spoke too soon… he chickened out is what could go wrong! The kind smile you sent him as you stood from your seat turned his brain to mush and he couldn’t do anything other than send you a lovestruck smile back. He was sure that if someone asked him what his name was in that moment, he wouldn’t be able to tell them. So… his plan had failed – but next Monday, that’s when he’ll talk to you!
But…
Hedidn’t. He chickened out, again! After chickening out the fifth week in a row – Tom thought to himself that this was getting ridiculous. What was going on with him? He had never been this shy when it came to a girl. Harrison had caught on three weeks in when Tom had asked a little too many of what Tom had thought was subtle questions about you.
“Why don’t you just get her number from the class group chat and send her a text if you’re such a coward?”, he’d teasingly posed. “Ask her if she wants to study together or something? God knows you need it if you’re gonna pass Professor Larsen’s class. You’re too busy staring at her like a creep to hear a single thing of what Larsen’s talking about”
“I don’t stare at her!”, Tom said defensibly, “…and I’m not a creep!”
“No, you’re right! You’re not a creep, you’re a weirdo”, a teasing smile danced over Harrison’s lips.
“Fuck you!”, Tom shoved Harrison’s shoulder as he mumbled “and stop quoting Radiohead you pretentious fuck”. But maybe Harrison had a point? He could just text you, right? But what would he say?
“hi, this is tom. i sit behind you in professor larsen’s class. i got your number from the class group chat and i was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime? xxx”
He reread the message he’d typed out in the notes app. Did he come off to strong? Maybe it’s the kisses at the end? He deleted them. Then he typed and retyped the massage a hundred times, but he knew in the end, he would never send it. Instead, he continued showing up to Professor Larsen’s class to sit behind the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, hoping that this was the Monday he’d grow some balls and finally talk to you.
The strong scent of the perfumery hit him like a brick wall, making him feel a little light-headed as he stepped inside the store. It was late November, but the perfumery had already put up their Christmas decorations and signs advertising their holiday sales. Tom adjusted his beanie and unbuttoned his winter jacket before he fished out his phone from his pocket. He searched through his messages until he found the one from his mother telling him what to buy for his little brother Paddy’s birthday. He wanted a cologne apparently. Why his fourteen-year-old brother wished for cologne for his birthday he did not understand, but Tom trusted his mother’s intuition.
“Hi welcome, do you want some help?”, a sweet voice asked. He was about to tell the voice that he’d be fine without any help, but when he looked up from his phone, he was met with your kind eyes.
“Oh… ehm… yes! I’m looking for this co-co-cologne?”, he stuttered out as he held up his phone showing a picture his mother had sent him of the cologne his brother wanted. He could feel a flush of warmth travel to his cheeks as you leaned in a little to get a better look at his phone.
“Oh, yes of course! We have that cologne over here”, you took off – walking deeper into the store. Tom followed you, taking big steps to keep up with your fast pace.
“Here it is!”, you smiled as you gestured to the cologne on the shelf. “We have it in two sizes: one that’s 50ml and the other that’s 100ml”, you pointed to the different sizes as you talked.
“Oh… ehm… I think I’ll buy the 100ml one?”, Tom questioned. His mum hadn’t said anything about if he should buy the 50ml or the 100ml one. But… the bigger the better, right? Tom thought.
“Excellent choice– ”, you chirped as you took the cologne of the shelf, “this fragrance should elevate your handsomeness”, you looked up from the packaging giving Tom your signature kind smile. That smile Tom had come to love over these past weeks.
“Then I’ll take a pallet”, Tom joked earning him a giggle from you. He could feel his chest fill with warmth at the sound. He made you laugh like that!
“Anything else you were looking for?”, you asked while looking around the store.
“Ehm no, nothing else”, he shook his head.
“Okay, then”, you said as you guided him to the register.
While you signed into the register you asked, “Would you like this gift wrapped?”
Tom fished out his wallet from his jacket. “No, no thank you”. Why did he say that?It’s a gift!
Tom watched your hand as you worked the register. “Okay, that’ll be £49.95”
£49.95!! This gift was going to be a lot more expensive than he’d anticipated. Does his mother think he’s made of money? He’s a broke uni student – he can’t spend this much money on something like this. But he couldn’t back out now with you waiting for him. With your eyes on him, he hesitated a little before he reluctantly swiped his card.
“Can I ask you something?”, you said as you handed him his bag and receipt. He could feel a jolt of electricity travel through his body as you accidently bumped into his hand.
A little startled he cleared his throat before he answered, “Yeah, sure”
“You’re Tom, right? Harrison’s roommate? You sit behind me in Professor Larsen’s class?”, your finger unsurely pointing at him as you asked your question. Your nose scrunched up like you were afraid you were mistaking him for someone else.
“Yeah, that’s me”, he confirmed with a nod, “and you’re y/n right? You’re friends with Amira and Sophie?”.
“Yeah, that’s me”, you parroted with a nod. A smile spread across his lips. He was actually talking to you! And you knew his name!
“What do you think of Professor Larson? Have you noticed how he always takes those weird breaths at the end of his sentences? You know like…”, you tried to mimic Professor Larsen’s annoying breaths, making Tom chuckle.
“I have noticed that! I actually find it hard to pay attention in his class”, Tom chuckled. But not because of Professor Larson’s weird breaths, he thought. “Yeah, me too! I get so caught up in his weird breathing- I’m always thinking he’s choking or something”, you laughed. You both talked for a little bit about the class and the last lecture until you asked him if he was going to Max’s party this Friday.
“Yeah! I’m gonna be there”, he nodded his head while he swung the bag with the cologne back and forth. “Me too!”, his heart skipped a beat at the smile you sent him. Then the bell by the door rang, announcing the arrival of a new customer. Your eyes left his for a moment as you greeted the old women that had arrived.
When you looked back at him he asked, “I’ll see you there then?”.
“Yes!”, your smile widened.
Tom was two beers deep when he saw you walking into Max’s flat with Amira and Sophie in tow. Harrison’s voice vanished into the background as a big smile blossomed on Tom’s face. He watched you from across the room, as you greeted some of your classmates. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He thought you looked so beautiful in your emerald dress. Then you turned your head, locking eyes with him in between the crowd of partygoers. It was like the entire world reduced to just the two of you. Just the two of you in this room, while the rest of the world faded away.
“Tom?”
The nudge he felt in his side, as Harrison called his name, brought him back to reality.
“Hm?”, he tore his eyes away from you, joining the conversation with his friends again.
“What do you think of that?”, Harrison asked, “Think of what?”, Tom questioned as his eyes trailed back to you, hoping to lock eyes with you again. He felt a wave of disappointment wash over him when he saw you’d turned your back, having a lively conversation with your friends.
Harrison followed Tom’s gaze and rolled his eyes, “Mate, are you seriously stillpining over y/n? It’s been like almost three months!”. Just as Tom was about to answer his best friend, he saw you excusing yourself from your friend group, making your way through the sweaty bodies, and into the kitchen.
“I’m gonna get another beer”, Tom didn’t answer his friend. “You still have half of your beer left?”, Harrison pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Giving Harrison a shrug, Tom chugged what was left of his beer, before shoving the empty bottle into the hands of a baffled Harrison, and slipping away towards the kitchen.
Your head cocked up from the concoction you were making, as you heard the creaking of the floorboard under Tom’s feet as he entered the kitchen.
“Fancy seeing you here”, Tom joked as he made his way over to where you stood by the kitchen island.
“Yeah, because I didn’t tell you I’d be here at all”, you quipped back flashing him a cheeky smile. His heart skip a beat again, like it always did when you smiled at him. It couldn’t be good for his health, but he’d take his chances at a heart attack any day over not seeing you smile again.
“Soo… whatcha making?”, he leaned in a little closer trying to get a better look at what you were pouring into your cup. You scrunched up your nose, oh my god Tom thought it was so cute, before you held up the bottle of tequila you had found in midst of the sea of bottles on the kitchen island.
“Tequila?”, you chuckled, “not sure what to mix it with though”, you said as you rummaged through the makeshift bar.
“Hmm…”, Tom hummed as he leaned over the island “what about… pineapple juice?”, he proposed picking up the carton of juice and presenting it like a waiter in a restaurant would present a fancy and expensive bottle of wine. The gesture earned him a small giggle – a giggle that made his already wide grin even wider.
“Pineapple juice? That’s what the chef’s recommending this evening?”, you asked as your fingers found your chin, stroking it like you were deep in thought, mulling this decision over in your head.
“Oh yes!”, he held the carton up to get a better look at the carton of juice. “This fine carton of Sainsbury’s 100% pure squeezed pineapple juice, not from concentrate, is the best of the best we have to offer this evening Miss y/n! You can’t make a better choice for your drink than this!”, he said confidently.
You nodded your head with a serious look on your face, fingers still stroking your chin. You were playing along to his silly bit. “Okay, you’ve sold me on the pineapple juice”, you decided, pushing your cup towards Tom.
“Excellent choice Miss! Say when”, he said as he started pouring your drink. “When”. You grabbed your cup, swirling the liquid around, before your brought it to your lips.
“So?”, he asked after you took your first sip.
“Honestly? Not bad at all”, you giggled.
“Oh thank god! Because suggesting pineapple juice was purely a shot in the dark”, Tom said as his right hand traveled to his forehead pretending to wipe the sweat of it, “no pun intended”. He earned himself another one of your cute giggles which prompted a proud feeling of accomplishment to settle in his stomach. He wanted to make you laugh like that for the rest of the night.
“What are you having then?”, you asked peeking over your cup at him.
“Would you find me boring if I told you I wanted to grab another beer?”, Tom asked.
“No, not at all!”, you answered back. “I just thought you weren’t like other girls”, you said with faked disappointment. “I thought maybe you were gonna make the weirdest drink I’d ever seen that would look super distrusting, but taste delicious or something”, you cheekily said.
“So sorry to disappoint”, Tom laughed as he grabbed a beer from the six pack on the kitchen counter. “I guess I’m just like other girls”, he shrugged as he took a sip of his beer. It was a little warm, but right now he couldn’t care less.
“Bummer…”, you sighed, “here I though you were more than just a pretty face”. Just as the words left your mouth you took a sip of your drink. As if the words you’d just uttered weren’t supposed to be said out loud and instead could be taken back and swallowed down, mixed with tequila and pineapple juice.
“A pretty face huh? Are you flirting with me y/n?”, Tom teasingly bumped his shoulder against yours.
“Oh, that’s classified information I’m afraid. So, I can neither confirm nor deny those claims”, you giggled.
“Ah man… classified information huh?”, Tom sighed, “that’s a bummer because if you were flirting with me y/n, then I would tell you how beautiful I think you look right now in your dress, and how I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you ever since you walked in here”. Your eyes widened at Tom’s words while a shy smile appeared on your face. “That is, if you were flirting with me of course”, Tom added. Your smile grew wider as you answered him back, “Of course”.
The rest of the party you two never left the kitchen – staying there talking the whole time. Tom didn’t see his friends for the rest of the night, and neither did you. You were so easy to talk to. You laughed at all his stupid jokes, and you played along to his silly bits. When he was talking to you it was like time stood still – it was just the two of you in this world. The two of you illuminated by the dim yellow kitchen light. A light that maybe would be harsh and unflattering under normal circumstances, but right now cast a soft glow over your face – making you look so pretty that Tom was thinking that his knees surely would buck under from his weight any minute now.
“Oh my god! Is that really the time?”, you suddenly said cutting yourself off mid-sentence. You were in the middle of telling him about the plot to your favourite film just as your eyes had flickered to the oven behind him showing the time. Your sudden new interest in the oven behind him made Tom turn his head too. How could it be past 2am already?It felt like you’ve only been talking for an hour at most!
“Maybe I should start to head home?”, you said. “I could walk you home if you want?”, Tom posed – not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.
You nodded your head as a shy smile ghosted over your lips, “I would really like that”.
With your hand in his you dragged Tom towards the hall and the door. Trainers, boots, and high heels haphazardly covered the floor of the hall – flooding it with shoes. You giggled as you carefully tried to step over the shoes, making your way towards the door while looking for your own shoes. Tom followed your steps, treading carefully in the gaps you’d made. Suddenly, you tripped over a pair of docs. Tom reacted quickly, clutching your hand tighter as he pulled you towards his body, catching your fall. Being so close to you, he caught a whiff of your perfume and floral notes filled the air with sweetness.
“Thanks”, you looked up at him as you let out a shy giggle. Your hand came to rest on his chest – steadying yourself. Inside Tom beamed at the touch, while he hoped you couldn’t feel how quick his heart was beating through his chest from being this close to you.
“No problem, darling”, his tongue grazed the front of his teeth as he teasingly added, “I just didn’t think you would fall for me this quickly”. You rolled your eyes at his words as you let out another one of your cute giggles.
“That’s a smooth one–“, you said with a hint of teasing sarcasm in your voice, “almost sounds like you rehearsed it”, you raised a questioning eyebrow as you patted his chest.
“Maybe I did?”, Tom nonchalantly shrugged, “Or maybe I’m serving you the best of the best pick-up lines this drunk nogging can produce at 2am?”, he pointed a finger at his head while a cheeky grin was spread on his face.
“The best of the best, huh?”, you played along. Tom nodded his head, the grin never leaving his face, “It doesn’t get any better than this, darling!”. You giggled again as you shook your head at his attempt at flirting with you. Then you stepped away from him, your eyes searching for your shoes. You both put your shoes and coats on in silence, only the voices from the other partygoers speaking over the music filled the space between you.
“Ready?”, Tom asked after he’d watched you twist your scarf twice around your head. You looked at him with soft eyes as you nodded your head, “Yes”. Then you two were swiftly out the door, walking together into the December night. A French exit. An Irish goodbye.
When Tom woke up the morning after a grin was permanently glued to his lips. Like a supercut, images of the night before, of you, flooded his mind. How his heart had skipped a beat the first time he laid his eyes on you. How pretty he thought you’d looked in your emerald dress. How your eyes would shine as you giggled at his stupid jokes. And how your eyes would glimmer when you talked about the things you loved. Oh, how he wanted to be something you loved.
When he walked home to his and Harrison’s flat, after walking you home, he’d felt like he was walking on pink clouds. You had been everything he wished you’d be and more. Was it too soon to think that he loved you? Of course it is! What’s going on with him? Who are you turning him into? He didn’t even know you – but he felt like he did. He felt like you’d known each other for years, you were so easy to talk to. Maybe he did love you. What he did know for sure though, was that he was falling for you fast. He was falling for you embarrassinglyfast!
“What happened to you yesterday man? I didn’t see you at all at the party”, Harrison’s voice brought Tom out of his daydream and back to reality. Standing from their sofa, where he’d spent the majority of his Saturday morning, he followed Harrison into their kitchen, pondering over what to tell his best friend.
Harrison was in the middle of making himself a cup of tea as Tom blurted out: “Ehm… I kind of ended up talking to y/n the whole night”, a hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “and then I walked her home”, Tom had a hard time fighting the smile tugging on his lips.
Stopping mid tea making, Harrison turned around with a cheeky grin on his face. “Walked her home you say? Spill!”, he said – one eyebrow raised.
“Mate, it wasn’t like that… I didn’t hook up with her. We talked, we flirted, and then I walked her home and came back here”
Harrison was confused now. His eyebrows were knotted together, and his thoughts spinning around in his head. “Wait? You didn’thook up with her? I though you liked her? You literally haven’t shut up about her for months!”
“Ido really like her! And that’s why I didn’t hook up with her– I didn’t want it to be just a one night stand… I want there to be more– and especially after talking to her last night”, and then Tom launched into one of his many speeches Harrison’s had already heard about you.
“Oh god… please make it stop!”, Harrison groaned. “You’re so whipped for this girl! You’re like a teenage girl, you know that mate? Do you write about how she rocks your world in your diary too now?”, he teases.
“Fuck off, you div!”, Tom flips him off, “I thought you’d be happy for me man!”
Tom’s reaction and grumpy face earned him a full belly laugh from Harrison. After calming down a little, Harrison says, “Of course I’m happy for you mate! But mostly I’m happy for myself, because I really can’t listen to any more of your speeches about how much you like her, or I’ll jump off the roof!”
He hated to admit that Harrison was right – he did sound like a teenage girl. You had taken over his mind, turned his life upside down, made him lose his self-control. He wanted to tell the world about you. He wanted to tell everyone that’ll listen how breathtakingly amazing you really are.
He couldn’t wait to see you again in class come Monday.
Tom felt light as a feather as he stepped inside Professor Larsen’s auditorium 15 minutes early. He’d woken up to a clear blue sky with the promise of a rare sunny day in December. His body was buzzing with energy – never having been this excited for Professor Larsen’s three-hour lecture. Slowly making his way down the auditorium stairs he was searching for only one head of hair – yours. But to his disappointment he couldn’t find you. As he sat down in his regular seat behind where you used to sit, he tried to tell himself that you would be here. He was just early. Fishing out his phone from his winter jacket he started mindlessly scrolling – trying to take his mind of his nerves and the butterflies fluttering in his tummy.
“This seat taken?”, a voice said pulling him from his phone. He knew it was you, even before he teared his eyes from his phone, and meeting your kind gaze.
“No, not at all!”, Tom beamed, removing his jacket from the seat beside him.
“Thanks”, you mumbled as you sat down. He watched you in silence as you took of your winter coat and fished your laptop out of your tote bag. When you were settled you turned towards him. God, you looked so pretty.
“Hi”, you smiled.
“Hi”, Tom parroted.
“How are you?”, you asked him as you leaned back in your seat.
“Great, now that you’re here”, Tom answered. Playfully you rolled your eyes at his response.
“What?”, he teased.
“You’re such a flirt– do you know that?”, you giggled.
“Only to pretty ladies who helps me buy cologne and sits beside me in class”, Tom said as he placed his hand on the back of your auditorium chair. You rolled your eyes again while Tom tried to keep his cool as he watched you shift a little closer to him in your chair.
“So… how was your weekend?”, you asked – a hint of a mischievous glint in your eye.
“Oh, you know… I went to this party on Friday where I met this beautiful girl. She was wearing this emerald coloured dress and I couldn’t take my eyes off her the entire night. What about you? How was your weekend?”, he winked. Just as you opened your mouth to give him an answer, Professor Larson’s voice boomed throughout the auditorium: “Good Monday morning– let’s get started on our second to last lecture”.
As usual Tom had a hard time paying attention during Professor Larson’s lecturers – and especially today with how close you were sitting to him. He did try to pay attention – he really did. But every time he tried; his eyes would have a mind of their own wandering to you. He studied you from his seat. How you’d scrunch up your nose as you tried to keep up with what Professor Larson’s was saying, while writing out your notes in your spiral notebook. How you’d nod along every now and then to something your he said. And how you would press the end of your pen to your lips as you were deep in thought. Oh, howhe wished he was that pen–… okay, maybe Harrison was right. He waswhipped.
“Okay, that’s it for today everyone! I’ll see you all back here next Monday for our last class before the exam”, Professor Larson’s voice brought Tom back to reality.
“Do you want to go get a coffee?”, your soft voice asked him as you both packed away your stuff.
“I would love to go get a coffee!”, Tom beamed, standing from his seat throwing his backpack over his shoulder.
It was crazy how time flew when Tom was together with you. You had both agreed that the coffee they served in your uni’s canteen was, although cheap, painfully bad. And instead opted for a cute café a few minutes walk from campus. Tom had never been there before, but you insisted on it having the best coffee you’ve ever had, and how you thought it was the best place to study because of how quiet it was. And he had to admit: it was the best coffee he’s ever had, and if he ever needed a quiet place to study – he would probably want to go here.
One coffee turned to two coffees, and then two coffees turned to cups of tea while the short and sunny December day turned to evening. Sitting at a table by the window your conversation had died down a little, and a comfortable silence had wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket, as you watched stressed Londoner’s hurrying past the café window, carrying bags of Christmas shopping.
“Want to go for a walk?”, you asked when you’d both finished your cups of tea. You’d occupied the same table by the window for hours now.
Out on the street, outside the café, you had a bounce in your step. Above both your heads the street was illuminated by Christmas lights. They glowed like stars on a clear night sky, and the warm and soft light transformed Tom’s world into a glowing vignette, with you in the centre. Reaching out your hand and intertwining them with Tom’s, you dragged him through the streets of London. Together you walked around aimlessly for hours hand in hand – talking and messing around. But eventually all good things must come to an end.
Standing outside the door to your flat Tom thinks back to the last time he had stood right where he was standing right now. Back to Friday night when he’d walked you home. You’d been leaning your side against the door just like you were doing now. And your hands had been interlocked just like they were now. And Tom, he really hadn’t wanted to leave you – just like he didn’t want to leave you now.
“I had a really good time with you today y/n!”, Tom said shyly – breaking the silence. Your eyes were following his thumb rubbing softly over the back of your hand, as a smile tugged at your lips at his words. You looked up at him under fluttering eyelashes.
“I had a really good time with you today too Tom!”, you voice barely a whisper as you moved a little closer. The closer you got the louder and faster Tom felt his heart beating.
“Maybe we could do this again then?”, Tom asked as his eyes fell to your lips. He wanted to kiss you so bad. To feel your soft lips against his. To make you his, and for you to make him yours. He wanted to be yourman.
“I would really like that!”, you breathed out – your eyes flicking from his eyes to his mouth. Tom leaned in a little closer to your face, his lips hovering over yours. When you made no sign of moving away, he looked into your kind eyes and boldly asked, “can I kiss you?”.
Your signature wide smile blossomed on your face at his words and when you nodded your head your nose, cold from the December air, softly bumped into his. With your consent, Tom closed the space between you, and his lips touched yours. You leaned into his kiss and kissed him back, making his stomach burst with fluttering butterflies. Your lips tasted like green tea and Tom found himself craving more of your touch. His hand travelled to your waist, while his other cupped your cheek bringing you even closer to his body.
Running out of air, you both reluctantly broke the kiss. Your hands had found their way to his face, cupping it, while your forehead rested against his. “That was– “, Tom started before you cut him off.
“Kiss me again”, you whispered as you leaned in closer. There was nothing in this world he wanted to do more than to kiss you again. So, he did. He closed the space between you and captured your soft lips in another breathtaking kiss.
“How can he look at me and tell me I’m beautiful?” you asked yourself in the mirror. Your fingers shakily lifted up to your face, trailing the tips of your fingers across your flawed skin. In your mind, you made a list of every single imperfection. Blemished skin. Your crooked discolored teeth. The bundle of skin underneath your chin that always makes you lift your phone slightly higher than usual in photographs. When he looked at you, it was almost as if he was staring at the most beautiful painting in a gallery. It made no sense to you because what was in the mirror was nothing short of disgusting.
“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Peter asked from the doorway of the bathroom. Your hands dropped from your face, ashamed that he caught you berating yourself once more.
“Sorry,” you whispered, looking away from the creature in the mirror.
He sighed, knowing that you couldn’t help it. He did it too. It was only natural.
“I thought you were still asleep,” you admitted, reaching for your makeup to attempt to hide your blemishes. Before you could reach them, his arms wrapped around your waist and tugged you backwards into him. He hated it when you did this to yourself.
“I was cold,” he mumbled into your shoulder, “Will you come back to bed with me?”
“I was going to-”
“I know. You can do it later.”
You didn’t have the strength to tell him no. So when he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you away from the mirror, you retreated with him. He took you to the bed, sitting down on the edge and placing you onto his lap. It always made you self-conscious to sit on his lap, no matter how many times he told you that you fit perfectly against his body.
“Hey,” he whispered to you, taking your attention away from your insecurities with just the sound of his gentle tone. You felt his soft hand reach up and caress your cheek, directing your eyes to look into his, “You know I love you, right?”
“I know,” you smiled sadly, nuzzling your cheek into his warm palm, “I love you.”
“I love every last thing about you,” he said in a sterner tone, “I love the dimples in your thighs, the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile, the sound of your laugh… those cute little snores that leave your lips when you’re asleep.”
“I snore?” you asked in semi-horror.
Peter laughed, “Just when you’re sick.”
“So that’s how you can tell,” you noted with a tiny laugh. Whenever you got sick, you would keep it to yourself. You didn’t want to worry Peter, he had enough on his plate without having to worry about you. However, he always knew and you never knew how. You’d wake up to see little gift bags by the bed with all your favorite snacks and drinks. On particularly bad days he would surprise you with brand new stuffed animals, he knew they were your favorite.
“Now you know my secret,” he chuckled as he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple. Your eyes close softly as he stays with his lips against your skin for just a secondmore, bringing bright blue butterflies to life inside your stomach. As Peter pulled away, he guided your chin between his thumb and index finger to face him, “It breaks my heart that you forget how much I love you sometimes.”
His thumb gently brushed against your bottom lip, a soft smile gracing his lips. You were speechless under his gaze. You were sure that the midnight sky would cry at how much it dulled in comparison to the speckles of light in Peter’s eyes as he looked at you.
“I know you love me,” you whispered, tears beginning to glisten in your eyes, “I just don’t understand how or why you do.”
Peter let out a heartbroken sigh, his lip quivering slightly at your confession. It tears him apart to hear the way you talk about yourself. In his eyes, the two of you were made for each other. He knew from the moment that he met you. He knew that there was no one else that could fit so perfectly beside him. It was you. It was always going to be you. “Because you are everything I’ve ever wanted and more. You’re my person,” Peter said with so much passion in his voice that every ounce of doubt you had shattered in the air. The tears broke from their cages, racing down your flushed cheeks. Peter’s hands moved to cup your face, wiping the flowing tears with his thumbs.
“You’re so cheesy,” you said, crying to calm yourself from the tears. He chuckled, just nodded to show that he agreed. You begrudgingly removed yourself from his hands, wiping your face free of tears, “I’m sorry I act like this.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Peter said with a joking eye roll as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back into him, “Can we kiss now?”
You laughed at his childishness before pressing a kiss to his lips, “I love you.”
You meet him when a mutual friend introduces you at a party that the both of you can’t wait to leave until you get to talking, sipping beers casually like you’re old pals.
And he takes you out on a date to his favourite seafood restaurant and when you tell him you’re allergic to shellfish his eyes widen and he looks so embarrassed but then you start laughing, telling him you’re messing with him and, boy, he thinks he falls in love with you right there.
He bought tickets to an off-Broadway show but the conversation you two are having is so good that neither of you notices the time until the waiter brings you a dessert menu and it was curtains up 30 minutes ago. Peter shrugs and says that talking to you is much more entertaining.
And you go for a long walk after dinner, too timid to reach out for each other’s hands until a large and rowdy group of frat boys appears on the sidewalk straight ahead and Peter subtly pulls you close enough to feel his breath on your cheek.
You get ice cream and sit on a park bench for as long as you can, not wanting the night to end because it’s been perfect in every way. Almost every way.
It’s when he kisses you that everything becomes like a dream. He walks you down to the subway platform, and waits with you for the train. You’ve never been kissed, and standing there on the busy platform, you barely notice the people milling about because you want so badly to end this night with the touch of his lips.
The lights of the train appear in the tunnel and you’ve resigned yourself to another night of never-been-kissed, but then Peter is holding your waist and pulling you close and there’s something so soft about the way he looks at you when he asks “Can I kiss you?”
You nod, barely, and he presses his lips to yours for the briefest of moments, then once more, a little longer, a little deeper. You hear the train screech to a halt, hear the pneumatic hiss of doors opening and Peter pulls away.
You sigh deeply, still a little stunned, your heart thumping in your chest. Peter smiles wide and you both turn to the train just in time to see the doors whoosh closed. You glance at Peter, a smirk tugging at your lips.
“Did you purposefully make me miss my train?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, feigning innocence. Then, after a pause, “Was it worth it?”
For a few more minutes with him? Of course it was.
“I think so,” you nod coyly, “But how are we ever going to pass the next eight minutes?”
a/n: dear god this has gotten so long…I swear it’ll have at least thirty five parts before it’s finished lmao. it needs its own series masterlist damn warnings: language, jake gyllenhaal pairing: peter parker x reader, soulmate au word count: 2.5k (it’s a shorty)
The quinjet got you to Europe way faster than normal. You remembered being in them just a few times with Natasha on smaller missions she wanted you on during your first months of college. The memories of those brought a bad taste to your mouth, so you shoved them away as you followed Hill into the base.
“I’m pretty sure Nick should’ve gotten Peter by now,” she said as she walked at a quick pace in front of you, “He should be able to catch you both up.”
“There was plenty of time for that on the flight,” you muttered, ignoring her look.
“It would be easier if you met Quentin first and got all the details from there.”
You had no idea who that was, but since questioning didn’t seem to get you anywhere, you just decided to wait until someone told you. She finally led you into the main room after about five minutes of walking, and you still couldn’t relax.
peter parker x reader soulmate au ~ in progress ~ main masterlist
last updated:jan 30 2022 total word count:~46k (so far) warnings:language, fighting, blood and gun mentions, character deaths and death mentions, ptsd/anxiety summary: peter hates the idea of soulmates. but meeting your soulmate is inevitable, and it’s not always so easy to avoid what the universe wants to happen [series goes across several timelines - post homecoming, infinity war & endgame, far from home, and no way home]
a/n: dear god this has gotten so long…I swear it’ll have at least thirty five parts before it’s finished lmao. it needs its own series masterlist damn warnings: language, jake gyllenhaal pairing: peter parker x reader, soulmate au word count: 2.5k (it’s a shorty)
The quinjet got you to Europe way faster than normal. You remembered being in them just a few times with Natasha on smaller missions she wanted you on during your first months of college. The memories of those brought a bad taste to your mouth, so you shoved them away as you followed Hill into the base.
“I’m pretty sure Nick should’ve gotten Peter by now,” she said as she walked at a quick pace in front of you, “He should be able to catch you both up.”
“There was plenty of time for that on the flight,” you muttered, ignoring her look.
“It would be easier if you met Quentin first and got all the details from there.”
You had no idea who that was, but since questioning didn’t seem to get you anywhere, you just decided to wait until someone told you. She finally led you into the main room after about five minutes of walking, and you still couldn’t relax.
You glanced around at the warehouse she seemed to have brought you to, not liking the amount of people that were seeing you unmasked. The only thing keeping you from putting it on anyway was her statement that everyone here already knew your identity.
Nick Fury was in the middle of the room, gesturing to a holographic table in the middle. The man from the footage earlier, the one they were calling Mysterio, was also there - but he wasn’t wearing his helmet, either. Identities didn’t seem to matter here, clearly.
And of course, your boyfriend was standing with them, mask off, his eyebrows knit together as he looked at the figures on the table. It only took a second for him to glance up, doing a double take when he realized you were there with Maria.
Of course no one told him you were coming.
“O-oh, hey babe, baby, hi,” he stuttered, and your frown deepened while the man next to Fury looked amused. “What-what are you doing here?”
“No one’s really told me yet, at least not clearly,” you couldn’t help but relax a little despite the circumstances, feeling that weight almost life off your shoulders as you walked up to join him. You always felt better when you were around him.
“Why did you go get her?” Peter asked Fury with wide eyes, and you gave him a dirty look. “That’s, I mean, I’m so glad you’re here! I just…you were supposed to be taking a break, and…”
He trailed off, and you knew he was talking about the therapy thing and the nightmares. You were glad he didn’t say that specifically in front of others, though.
“I needed her help,” Fury inserted, “Might I remind you, Parker, L/N has technically been an Avenger longer than you have.”
“I wouldn’t be if he hadn’t been blipped,” you said defensively, “I wouldn’t even be an Avenger without him..”
“Fine,” Fury threw his hands up, “I don’t care about specifics. Point is, the more the merrier, and I don’t have anyone else.”
You couldn’t help but be a little peeved about his commentary. Tony didn’t tend to share nice things about Fury, and neither did Nat, for the most part. It was clear she respected him while Tony didn’t, but there were some things you heard about him that you didn’t exactly warm up to.
It didn’t help that he was at Tony’s funeral all those months ago, giving you and Peter both a look that gave you the feeling he would try to involve you both in some kind of mess at some point. And here you were, at a mess.
Peter seemed to notice how tense you were, and you felt his hand slip into yours, squeezing it. He met your eyes with a tight smile, and you took a breath, squeezing his hand back.
“L/N, this is Mr. Beck,” Fury nodded to Mysterio, and you shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he nodded with a grin.
“Likewise,” you forced a smile. “So, what the hell is going on?”
Fury tapped the hologram again, and you watched as imaginary figures similar to that of the water monster showed up. You tried to pay attention as he described the attacks - the one that already happened, the one that just happened here in Venice, and the ones that were to come.
Beck took over from there, informing you that he was from another universe and had fought these before, which had you exchanging a glance with Peter.
“The multiverse theory is real?” You questioned doubtfully, and Fury sighed.
“Yes. As I’ve explained to Parker, the infinity stones seemed to have opened pocket dimensions. The elemental creatures that destroyed Beck’s universe have crawled through, and they’re now threatening our planet in the same way. We can’t let them win.”
“I won’t let what happened on my Earth happen on yours,” Beck promised, looking both you and Peter in the eye, “But I’ll need your help. I had a whole battalion on my universe, and it wasn’t enough. We need to be really strategic.”
You exchanged another look with Peter, his eyes almost unreadable. You could tell he didn’t like the sound of this, either.
“This sounds like a Carol or Thor job,” you muttered, and Fury gave you a hard look.
“That’s what your boyfriend said. But they’re off world. I tried to contact you, Parker, multiple times before I had to interfere with your little field trip. With half the Avengers dead, I don’t have many options.”
You tensed at that statement, and you could tell it bothered Peter too. He said that like they were just tools that he couldn’t use anymore, and not real people. That didn’t exactly make you feel good about either of you being here. Not to mention that he had been trying to get in touch with Peter, and you weren’t told about it from either party.
“You could’ve said that in a way that didn’t make this sound like a suicide mission and insulted their old teammates,” Beck told Fury, and he just rolled his eyes.
“Fine. It won’t be a suicide mission if you both help. I don’t care if you’re both so-called ‘neighborhood heroes’ - that ended as soon as you both went to space and became Avengers. I need you.”
“Well what about the fact that Peter is on a school trip with a bunch of kids who don’t know he’s Spider-Man?” You questioned, “And how Spider-Man and Shadow are both New York heroes, and randomly showing up in Europe? Our identities remaining a secret is important.”
“We can assure they won’t get out,” Beck said firmly, glancing at Peter, “I can imagine how horrible it would be if the wrong person found out who you were.”
“I’ve got stealth suits for you both,” Hill finally joined in, “And we’ve taken over the travel agency that Peter’s school is using. It’ll be easy to make it seem like you were never here, Y/N, and like Peter never strayed from the field trip.”
You sighed, finally looking at Peter, “You’re more at risk than I am. Are you sure you want to do this?”
He seemed hesitant, but he nodded, “I think I have to.”
“Great,” Fury said flatly, standing up, “Hang around a bit while our team gets the travel to Prague figured out. I can get your suit to you tomorrow on the way, Peter.”
“Cool,” he mumbled, obviously not sounding excited about it. Beck gave you both a nod before following Hill, talking about some kind of fighting strategy.
“Hey,” you nudged your boyfriend, trying to smile. He immediately hugged you.
“Hi,” Peter relaxed against you, his head leaning against your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, meeting his tired eyes when he moved back up, “Kind of bullshit that you can’t enjoy your vacation, though.”
“I don’t care much about that,” he muttered, “I’m just sorry you can’t catch a break.”
“Yeah, well, I chose this life before I met you, Parker. I knew what I was getting into.”
“Before you met Spider-Man,” he corrected, a smug grin rising on his face. You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing his shoulder.
“Yeah, whatever.”
You dropped your smile and suddenly gave your boyfriend a stern look, “You didn’t tell me Nick Fury was contacting you. You’re not quite off the hook for that.”
“I-I didn’t, I wanted-” he threw his hands up, “You were having so many nightmares and I finally got to talking to you about seeing a therapist, I didn’t want us to have to deal with Fury on top of that. You would’ve pushed it to the side, I know you.”
You sighed, knowing he was right, “Well, it doesn’t matter now. We’ve got this.”
You tapped your fist against his, and he smiled. “I’m sorry about this. I was really hoping we could get a break.”
“Me too,” you shrugged, “I don’t think people like us get breaks, though.”
“Right,” he sighed, “But we will get one. A real vacation, maybe before I go to college. Promise.”
You liked the sound of that.
“You should probably get back to your classmates,” Beck’s voice interrupted you both, and Peter sighed. “Y/N, we’ve got a room for you, too.”
“Wait, she can’t come with me?” Peter asked, frowning, and you tried not to laugh.
“Peter, it would be very weird for me to show up in another country on your class field trip,” you pointed out, ignoring his frown, “It’s one night, and I’ll see you in Prague tomorrow.”
He didn’t seem to like that, and neither did you if you were being honest; but, you had plenty of time to see him after this mess was over. You gave him a quick kiss, telling him to say hi to Ned and MJ for you, before he finally left, looking a little depressed. Beck gave you a wink before following him out, and you hoped he was going to talk to him.
“We’ll leave in the morning,” Fury’s voice brought you out of the relaxed feeling you had around Peter. “One of my guys will be driving the bus Peter and his classmates will be in. We’re going to have another team follow in a van, but the rest of us will be flying straight to Prague. I think it might be best if you flew with us so you can have more prep time. If Peter didn’t care so much about what his classmates think, he’d have more time, too, but clearly we’ll have to adjust.”
“You’re lucky he even agreed to help,” you said before you could stop yourself, but Fury didn’t seem phased.
“Here’s your hotel card, it’s across the street from Peter’s, and we’ll be in nearby rooms. Can you make it to your hotel by yourself?” He asked, which made you roll your eyes.
“Yes, I’ve managed on my own for a while, thanks. I think I can figure out how to get to a hotel,” you took the keycard from him, not bothering to hide your annoyance.
“I know you don’t like me, L/N,” Fury said sternly, almost like he was reprimanding you, “But you need to understand that whatever Stark and Romanoff told you, was maybe just misguided anger. And despite whatever you think my intentions are, the fact of the matter is - if these elementals are left alone, everyone on earth will die. I don’t think either of us want that.”
“Is that why you tried to contact Peter instead of me?” You asked sourly, “You knew I wouldn’t listen to you.”
“If Peter joined me first, then I knew you would, too,” he shrugged, “I needed you both. That was my only way to go about it.”
He left you sitting by the table, and you felt like throwing something. Maybe Natasha and Tony had only chosen to tell you bad things, but you couldn’t see how it mattered. Tony had always preferred to keep to himself, and you were sure his life would’ve been easier if he hadn’t joined the Avengers. And maybe Nat was given a second chance after the Red Room with Fury and Clint, but she was just exchanging one hard life for a different one. She might’ve been better off on her own, too - and she would probably still be alive. They both would be.
“I think, despite his clearly negative attitude, he actually does care. I’m sure the last thing he wants is to involve two teenagers, especially two that don’t seem to care for him”
You glanced up at Beck as he sat next to you, and you attempted a smile. “Yeah, I’ll believe that when hell freezes over. But thanks for trying.”
He just shrugged. “I got a little cynical myself after losing so many times. I’m sure it hurt his ego after what happened on your planet, with Thanos. Maybe he blamed himself for not acting sooner.”
You unintentionally tensed at that, “Yeah, well. We all had to go through it, not just him. Some of us had to deal with the outcome.”
“Peter mentioned that,” he hummed, “I talked with him after he left, since Fury kind of unnecessarily ragged on you both, I figured he needed a little pep talk. He seemed pretty upset that you had to get involved, considering you were both meant to be taking a break after all the Thanos stuff. He said you were one of the survivors…and that he wasn’t.”
“I had to live without him longer than I’ve even been with him,” you sighed, shutting your eyes, “It’s still affecting me. And he’s been back for months now.”
Beck sighed with you, “I understand. I’ve lived without my family so long…that’s why we need to stop these monsters. Before they take Peter away from you again. Or vice versa.”
You nodded, ignoring the fear in your chest at those words. “That’s why I came to Europe. I won’t let that happen. I’m sorry it happened on your world.”
“I’ve been able to move on,” he said with a tight smile, patting your shoulder. “Let’s do our best to ensure that doesn’t happen to you guys, deal?”
summary ↠ you fall for your neighbour, peter parker—who also seems to be spider-man, you find out on one boring night the only problem? he isn’t aware you know.
genre ↠ neighbours!au | friends to lovers au
warnings↠ near death experience (almost traffic collision; no injuries!!), minor angst, very fluffy on the whole!!
word count ↠ 5.5k
a/n ↠ this was super fun to write, even though i struggled with writers block during this lmfao. but i hope you enjoy!! and i’d love any feedback you have! enjoy!! ♡
a/n: long time no see! here’s a cheesy fic for you! warnings: language, it’s so cheesy who even am I, slightly suggestive scenes/dialogue, flirting, little to no angst (shocking ik) pairing: peter parker x reader, college word count: 4k summary/request: peter is pretty much the only thing keeping you sane during your time in grad school
At this point, it didn’t startle you as much when your boyfriend appeared in your room - after about three times of you screaming and almost hitting him with something, you got used to it. After all, you left your window open whenever you knew he would drop by, so what did you expect?.
But you looked over to greet him this time and instead you were met with his upside down face. It took you about two seconds to realize he was hanging from your ceiling, and had probably been there for a while.
Peter was giving you a shit-eating upside-down grin, and you sighed as you went back to your paper. “Yeah, great observation there, Pete. Question, how long have you been creeping on me without me realizing you were here?”
“I’ve just never seen you in them before,” he hummed, dropping down from your ceiling like it was nothing. You felt his hands on your shoulders before his arms moved to wrap around you instead, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And how could I not creep on you, you look cute.”
a/n: long time no see! here’s a cheesy fic for you! warnings: language, it’s so cheesy who even am I, slightly suggestive scenes/dialogue, flirting, little to no angst (shocking ik) pairing: peter parker x reader, college word count: 4k summary/request: peter is pretty much the only thing keeping you sane during your time in grad school
At this point, it didn’t startle you as much when your boyfriend appeared in your room - after about three times of you screaming and almost hitting him with something, you got used to it. After all, you left your window open whenever you knew he would drop by, so what did you expect?.
But you looked over to greet him this time and instead you were met with his upside down face. It took you about two seconds to realize he was hanging from your ceiling, and had probably been there for a while.
Peter was giving you a shit-eating upside-down grin, and you sighed as you went back to your paper. “Yeah, great observation there, Pete. Question, how long have you been creeping on me without me realizing you were here?”
“I’ve just never seen you in them before,” he hummed, dropping down from your ceiling like it was nothing. You felt his hands on your shoulders before his arms moved to wrap around you instead, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And how could I not creep on you, you look cute.”
“You’re so damn weird,” you snorted, pushing your glasses back up your nose. “And yeah, I feel real cute after working on this essay for four hours straight, too. Bet the bags under my eyes are designer at this point.”
“Take a break,” he whispered hopefully, and you sighed, leaning back into his arms while he pressed another kiss to your head.
“I really shouldn’t,” you said half-heartedly, and you could almost picture his smug smile at knowing he had won without having to try that hard.
He let go of you to spin your chair to face him, and you were right about the grin on his face. “I have something way more interesting than a history paper to tell you about.”
“Peter, literally anything is more interesting than this history paper, no offense.”
“Ouch,” he chuckled, taking the rim of your glasses between his fingers and gently pulling them off your face.
“Dude, everything is blurry now.”
“Your eyes need a break,” he insisted, and you could see just enough of his blurry face to tell he was trying not to laugh. “Even if you do look adorable in them. Come sit down with me.”
“You’re not hurt or anything, are you?” You asked warily as he tugged you toward your bed.
“Nah, no need for Nurse Y/N tonight.”
“So what did you want to tell me that’s so much more interesting than my paper?” You asked as he pulled you down on top of him, his arms coming around you immediately.
“I don’t actually have anything, I just wanted you to take a break.”
“Wow.”
One of his hands held your waist, the other one coming to your head. You immediately relaxed as he started moving his fingers over your hairline, the headache you felt forming almost going away completely.
“Look who’s the nurse now,” you muttered teasingly.
“Mm, well you’re always taking care of me, so it’s my turn,” he said softly, and you leaned further into his chest and shut your eyes.
“I really hope you washed your suit recently,” you mumbled, making him laugh.
“Can’t you smell the flowery detergent May used?”
You laughed with him, and his hand moved to cup your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “May still washes your suit? You’re a grown man and can’t do your own laundry?”
“Of course I can,” he said defensively, making you snicker, “She just got mad because I might’ve turned a bunch of white shirts pink the other day.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“Yeah,hopelessly in love with you,” he said before peppering your face with kisses, making you laugh and push his face away.
“And you’re lame, too,” you chuckled, letting your chin rest on his chest as you stared up at him. His hands moved up your back to play with the ends of your hair while he smiled cheekily down at you.
“So, why were you wearing glasses?”
“Doctor said I need them. Guess my vision just keeps getting worse. Maybe I need a spider bite to magically cure my eyesight.”
Peter snorted, “Yeah, that’s the last thing you need right now, I promise.”
“Oh come on, it would be fun,” you complained, while he just rolled his eyes, “I would love to beat someone up.”
“First of all, I don’t just beat people up. Second of all, my Y/N, the light of my life - you wouldn’t hurt a fly and we both know that.”
“Maybe if I was all jacked up from a radioactive spider I could. I mean, you seem to have fun all the time.”
“It’s not always fun,” he snorted, but you knit your eyebrows as his happy expression from a second ago fell away slightly. You knew it wasn’t easy and it wasn’t always great, but you assumed for the most part he did have fun. Most of the time he was coming to tell you about something funny that happened while he was donning the suit, very rarely having troubles anymore.
“Don’t…you like being Spider-Man?”
Peter was quiet long enough for you to lift yourself up onto your palms so he could look at you. You raised an eyebrow, and he sighed, leaning his head back against your pillow.
“Itcan be fun, but I feel so tired lately,” he finally said, his eyes shutting, “I guess it’s just been a lot to juggle everything.”
“Well, even superheroes deserve a break, y'know,” you patted his chest, “I’m sure everyone would agree with me.”
He nodded, but something else seemed to be bothering him as he searched your face.
“Are you happy with me?” Peter asked, his voice almost sounded strained, and you sat up immediately. “Like genuinely happy?”
“What? How can you even ask that?” You took his face in your hands as you situated yourself on his lap, his hands automatically coming to your waist to hold you there. “Of course I’m happy with you. Or I would leave you out of the fire escape every night. You’re everything to me, you know that, right?”
“Okay,” he finally agreed, his eyes still searching yours as his thumbs rubbed circles against your hips. “If you’re sure…”
“Areyou happy?” You asked quietly.
“How could I be anything but happy when I have you?” He mumbled tiredly, and you smiled. He took your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm before leaning into it again. You brushed your thumb along his freckled cheeks.
“Okay,” you smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, “As long as you’re happy, then I’m happy. Glad we settled this.”
He chased your lips, and you let him pull you back down against the mattress with him, still holding his face between your hands. “Good, because my goal is to make you as happy as possible, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” you hummed as he kissed you again, knowing you shouldn’t be getting lost in it with your essay waiting to be finished a few feet away.
But it had been a while since your free time matched up with his. With the way he was holding your waist to press you closer against him, and the noise he made when you tugged on his hair; it was a little too hard to remember you had important things to do.
“You know,” Peter mumbled almost breathlessly against your lips after a moment, “I’m still not feeling that convinced that you’re happy.”
“Are you serious?” You deadpanned, and he had the nerve to give you a soft grin as if you weren’t both just making out. With an eye roll you went to kiss him again, noticing when he was visibly more eager this time, but you weren’t done.
“Icould convince you,” you pulled away with a grin as his eyes lit up, “But you interrupted my essay, so you have to wait.”
He let out a frustrated noise as you climbed off him, grabbing your glasses again and going back to your desk.
“You’re the worst,” Peter grumbled from your bed, making you snicker.
“Andyou are such a boy. Patience is a virtue.”
He gave you about five minutes before he muttered, “I don’t like patience.”
-
“I’m in so much pain,” Peter whined, and you rolled your eyes only because you knew he was fine. “They almost killed me. I’m dying, baby.”
“At this point I’m going to kill you,” you muttered, and he pouted. “Sit still.”
This wasn’t the first time (and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last) that he had come to you after a long day or night, littered in cuts and bruises and sometimes even deeper wounds. You didn’t mind - in fact, you liked that he came to you out of everyone else, even before you were dating. You liked that he was comfortable enough to be vulnerable around you, to admit that he needed you, even if you hated seeing him hurt in any way.
Still, he refused hospitals, so this was just how it was.
He sat still for maybe two seconds before wincing and shifting on your bed, and you leaned back up and glared at him.
“Maybe if you didn’t poke me so hard I wouldn’t move!” He said defensively before you could speak, in that same whiny tone. You gave him a dirty look as you went back to cleaning his cut.
“You know, you used to come to my room apologizing and feeling so bad for taking up my time,” you said wistfully, but the teasing glint in your eye told Peter you were kidding, “Now all you do is complain.”
“Mmm, because now I know you would never leave me out on the fire escape,” he smiled lazily at you, and you snorted.
“Yeah, guess I just like you too much for that. Even if you are a brat.”
“Oh my God,” he said in quiet shock, “Do you have a crush on me?”
“Peter, I’m going to purposefully poke you now.”
He finally sat still as you finished up and grabbed the little sewing kit you borrowed from MJ that you had converted into more of a proper stitching kit. Peter had a great talent for getting stabbed and this had become a necessity.
“You’re wearing the glasses again,” he murmured after a minute, “Look so pretty.”
“Why do you always compliment me when I look like shit?”
“How dare you say that about my girlfriend,” he fired back, and you burst into laughter, moving your hands so you wouldn’t poke him with the needle. “You are always the most beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking-”
“Shut up,” you mumbled, going back to the stitches, “I love you, dork.”
“Totally have a crush on me,” he said quietly, and you tried not to laugh again as you finished the last stitch. “And I love you too.”
Peter grinned at you when you snipped the last stitch, “You should totally go to med school, babe. This was top-notch doctor service.”
“Is that you offering to pay for it?”
“Right, the country likes to make doctors pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to go in debt, I forget,” he sighed, flopping back on your bed. “Guess you’ll just have to stick to regular people college because Spider-Man does not get paid.”
“You should get paid,” you huffed as you put everything away, “All the shit you have to put up with.”
“I don’t do it for money,” he hummed, shutting his eyes, “I do it so I don’t get sleep, apparently.”
“Take a nap,” you suggested, standing up, “Some of your clothes are in my drawer, and I have to work on my project anyway, so I can’t give you that much attention.”
“I would die without your attention.”
“Well, die then,” you snickered at his offended expression, “I’ll take a break when you wake up, deal?”
“Fine.”
The sight of Peter asleep on your bed was hilarious - he knocked out immediately, sprawled out on top of your bed in the funniest position. You couldn’t help but take a picture to send to Ned and MJ, knowing they’d find it as funny as you did.
For an hour or so, you made yourself work on the project, just finding yourself more annoyed with it as it went on. Peter’s quiet breathing behind you, as weird as it sounded, made you relax slightly. Your group members weren’t responding, so you couldn’t get much done anyway, and really you would rather be taking a nap with your boyfriend. But you had papers to grade for the class you were an aide in, and other assignments to do, so you didn’t let yourself crawl into bed with him even as much as you wanted to.
“Did you really send that to Ned and MJ?” Peter’s tired voice almost made you jump a while later, not hearing him get up.
“Yeah, sorry,” you said distractedly, typing a few more sentences into one of the slides.
“Do you even know what I’m talking about?” His voice softened, a hint of a teasing tone in it, but you still weren’t paying attention.
“What?” You finally looked over at him, hesitant to pull your eyes away from the screen. He seemed to look worried at your expression.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m going to jump off the Empire State building,” you suddenly groaned, taking your glasses and putting your face in your hands. You felt his hand rub your shoulder, making you realize how tense you were. “In a really dramatic fashion, too, so my professors know it was their fault.”
“Well, that won’t work, ‘cause I’ll catch you,” Peter sighed. “No dying on my watch.”
“I’ll do it when you’re not there. Anything to avoid this class.”
“I will simply know that you are planning to jump off a building. Spidey senses and all that, and I can practically read your mind considering how long we’ve known each other.”
“Or maybe you’re just an empath, in that case.”
“Alright. I think you meant telepath, so you definitely need another break, your mind seems to be snapping, Y/N.”
You let out a groan when he pulled your chair back for you, holding his hand out. “Fine. Can’t ever say no to you.”
Peter grinned as he pulled you up from your chair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Whatcha wanna do on your break?”
A few minutes later, and you were leaning against your pillow while Peter sat crisscrossed in front of you on your bed, a pile of cards between you both. You frowned as you pushed your glasses back up your nose, still squinting at your cards.
“Any kings?”
“Go fish.”
You sighed, picking up a card. “This is killing me.”
“Well, I offered slapjack instead, but you said it gave you anxiety to play fast games with me.”
“Because it does! Your stupid senses always seem to know where the jack is. And you always go crazy slapping it.”
“I like card games!” He said defensively, glancing at his deck, “Uh, got a five?”
“Motherf-,” you handed him the card, frowning, “I think you have another super power, somehow just knowing what my cards are.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he winked at you, making you roll your eyes. “Got a seven?”
“You’re kidding me,” you handed him your seven, “How are you cheating? You’re definitely cheating.”
“Y/N, you’ve accidentally shown me your cards three times now. You keep holding them low and I can see all of them.”
You gasped dramatically, lifting your foot to kick his shoulder while he laughed at you. “You are cheating! I’m dating a cheater!”
“You deserved it,” he laughed, grabbing your ankle and lightly pushing you off, “Like, the basic rule is to keep your cards to yourself.”
“Wow, and now you’re blaming me, the victim in this? I should’ve seen these red flags years ago, I can’t believe this.”
“Baby,” he said between laughs, suddenly reaching for you and pouting when you crossed your arms and leaned back, “I’m sorry, please forgive me. You know I’m competitive.”
“And a cheater,” you stuck your tongue out at him, yelping as he grabbed you by the forearms and pulled you on top of him, your back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly while you laughed at him, all the cards scattered across the floor.
“I’m not a cheater,” he said almost convincingly in your ear, but you turned yourself around in his arms to give him a dirty look.
“You just admitted to it. Like five seconds ago.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I would never do any such thing,” he said against your neck, pressing a few kisses there while you scoffed.
“And a gaslighter too, apparently!” You yelped when he rolled you over, giving you a teasing glare as he hovered over you.
“You take that back.”
“No way.”
“Fine. I have no choice.”
You sighed when he flopped all his weight down on you, which felt like a lot considering how strong he was now. One of his hands moved to your side, squeezing it lightly and making you let out a laugh, hating that he discovered where you were most ticklish.
“You’re picking all those cards up off the floor, by the way,” you said between laughs, and he finally left you alone.
“Alright, fine,” he sighed dramatically, pulling away from you and standing up, “Only cause you’re my best friend.”
“Wow, I’m offended on Ned’s behalf.”
He gave you a look, bending down to pick up the cards. “That’s different.”
“Yeah, at least give me some warning before you run off into the sunset with him, okay?”
“Could say the same about you and MJ,” he stuck his tongue out at you, and you laughed as you picked up the remaining cards on the bed.
“Touché.”
You both fell into a comfortable silence as he handed you the rest of the cards, and you put them away. He was humming as he re-adjusted your pillow and blankets, making you snort when you recognized the cheesy old song.
After a minute you looked back at your computer, knowing you probably spent too long away from your work. You didn’t even want to know what time it was.
“I don’t even want to think about this stupid project anymore.”
“What if you danced with me instead,” Peter suggested, and he was already pulling you to your feet before you could respond to that.
He held both your hands and swung your arms back and forth, making you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Peter, you suck at dancing. No offense.”
“Eh, who cares, we’re having more fun than the project is giving you,” he spun you in a loose twirl, half singing the same song he was humming before, which you couldn’t help but laugh at this time. He pulled you back to his chest, moving you both gently side to side again.
“I really have to go back to my project,” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I don’t want to.”
“Is it a big part of your grade?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then I’ll stop distracting you,” he said in defeat, making you frown as he pulled back.
“I was kind of hoping you’d just tell me to not do it.”
“Your education is important to you,” Peter shrugged, “So I’ll encourage you to do it even when you don’t want to.”
“Ugh. You need to stop being a good boyfriend. Encourage me to drop out instead, please.”
“Sorry, no can do,” he gave you a cheeky grin, and you sighed in fake disappointment.
“And you can’t work without these,” he picked up your glasses, putting them on his own face, which made you burst out laughing. “I can’t see anything with these on.”
“You look so cute in glasses,” you mimicked his voice horribly, and he chuckled as he wiggled his eyebrows at you before sliding them off.
“I miss when you used to have to wear glasses,” you said wistfully, smiling as he put them back on your face gently. “My little nerd. You’re still a nerd, actually.”
He rolled his eyes but kept his hands on your face, leaning forward to give you a quick kiss. “Eh, I looked dorky. You look really cute in them.”
“As you keep telling me,” you smiled as he brushed his thumb across your cheek, his brown eyes softening.
“You’re tired,” he pointed out, and you sighed. “You should’ve taken a nap as a break instead of entertaining me with a really easy go fish game. I would’ve woken you up, sweetheart.”
“Only easy cause you cheated.”
“Could’ve told me you aren’t sleeping,” he ignored that as he wrapped his arms around you, and you melted into the embrace, shutting your eyes. “I would’ve left you alone.”
“I don’t want to be left alone,” you chuckled as he started swaying you both back and forth, “Besides, we don’t have that much time together. I still manage at least five hours a night.”
“Five hours,” he repeated, shaking his head, “You know that isn’t enough.”
“It’s grad school, Peter. That’s like, more than normal for us. And I know you don’t sleep that much, either, hypocrite.”
“Yeah, but I worry about you. Don’t like seeing you tired. If only homework was a bad guy I could fight for you.”
You laughed at that mental image, and his arms tightened around you as he pressed another kiss to your hair. Not for the first time, you felt so lucky to have a boyfriend that made you forget all the other troubles you had, even if it was just for a moment.
“You do make me happy, Peter,” you said randomly, and Peter’s wide smile when you pulled back almost made you lose your train of thought. “Seriously. I don’t want you to doubt that ever again.”
He leaned his forehead against yours, his expression soft again.
“You make me happy, too,” he said quietly, his nose brushing against yours. “You make me feel like it’s just the two of us, all the time, you know?”
“I feel that way, too,” you agreed, closing to gap to press your lips against his briefly, “Now I need to get back to my stupid project.”
“So romantic.”
You must’ve fallen asleep at your desk, because at some point you woke up in your bed, an arm thrown over Peter’s waist as his wrapped around your back. He must’ve felt you wake up, because his arm tightened around you as he shifted.
“Should I go home?” He brushed some hair from your face, his eyes still mostly shut.
“Nah, I sleep better when you’re here, anyway,” you whispered back, and his sleepy half-smile made you even more happy with that decision.
“Mm, me too,” he murmured, pressing his lips against your hair. “Love you.”
Warning: Peter does some bad things and creepy things. Depends on how you look at it. The title is self explanatory.
-
It wasn’t like he was a stalker or anything.
That’s exactly what a stalker would say.
Shut up, Ned! Ahem. Anyway, he’s not a stalker.
Peter just liked you, a lot, and since he didn’t have the guts to ask you out, he turned to…other measures. Ones that would be less noticeable. Yes, he had the notifications on for all of your social media. Yes, he saved some of your pictures because he just wanted to look at it forever and ever. Yes, he had memorised your bio by heart. Yes, he took screenshots of the sort text messages that you shared which were mostly you asking about the Physics homework or the whereabouts of your teacher. Well, that didn’t change the fact the his heart skipped a beat whenever a ‘thanks Pete!’ popped up next to your profile picture.
So…you do know that they call those an online stalker.
Yes! Yes, I know, Ned! But these are different from a real stalker! Real stalkers are really bad. They’re threatening and those are the kind of people that Spider-man has to take care of to keep the city safe. I’m…not like that. Am I? I’m not. He’s not. He wasn’t like that at all.
Sure, Peter.
I’m not! Ok. Anyway.
Stalker or not, he was going to keep it a secret to his grave. He could never risk you finding out. You would despise him until he graduated. You would never even want to talk to him again. That’s why he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even his best friend.
At least, that’s what you planned until…
Until today.
-
When Peter thought back to it, it was kind of Mr. Bail’s fault.
“Listen up, Class! Just to juggle things around a bit, we’re going to have new seating plans today! Everybody, pick up your bags, come to the front, pick a stick and go sit in your new groups!”
Peter slowly slid his laptop and notebook into his bag as everybody else groaned. He didn’t really get why teachers thought that “mixing up” the students would automatically end up in making more friends. He liked where he was sitting right now. It was at the corner, his group didn’t really care that much about him, he could secretly work on web fluids from time to time. Peter let out a short sigh before walking towards the front of the class to pick his new seat. It didn’t really matter anyway. It wasn’t as if he-
Peter looked at the piece of unfolded paper on his hand.
As if he-
He looked back at his seat.
“What are you staring at, Dickhead!”
…As if he minded seating next to anybody.
Anybody except for one.
Peter regretfully slumped his backpack over his shoulder and walked towards the one person he wished to avoid. Flash returned the look with a frown when he realised the reason for the young boy’s stare.
“You? You’re sittinghere?”
Peter didn’t answer, but instead, just sat down next to Flash, turning his head the other way. This was going to be a hard month for him.
“Oh, no way. Your lameness is going to rub off me! I can already feel myself getting infected by dollar store germs!”
When Peter continued to ignore him, Flash soon got tired of mocking and turned his attention back to class. Hmm, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. This is just like Flash on normal days. I just have to wait until he forgets about me.
Or that’s what he thought.
“Ok, class. That will be it for today. Oh, and I hope you like your new partners because you will be working with them on the final project for this semester! Class dismissed!”
Peter turned to Flash with horrified eyes.
Without a word, Flash just scowled and stormed out of the room, leaving Peter behind. Alone.
-
“I don’t know, Ned. I don’t think I can ever work with him. Or, more importantly, I don’t think he will ever work with me.”
3 hours had past since the incident in Chemistry, and Peter had already filled his best friend, Ned, on the details. Now, they had PE together and Peter still couldn’t get over his thoughts about Flash. Ned however, was less concerned.
“It’s not really that big of a deal, Peter. You had plenty of partners who left you to do all the work. Flash is just going to be one of them.”
Peter wrinkled his eyebrows.
“Dude, that’s not a good thing.”
Ned just shrugged.
“Well, yeah, technically. But you shouldn’t be so worried about it.”
Peter was just about to reject him when a voice above them interrupted their conversation.
“Parker. Get up.”
Peter looked up to see none other than Flash standing next to his mat and scurried to his feet. What was he doing here? Did he hear what he had said?
“Yeah, w-what’s up?”
“Give me your phone.”
“My what now?”
Flash let out an exasperated sigh and looked at Peter as if he was a moron.
“I’m going to need your phone to put in my number so you can call me for the chem project. Remember?”
Of course he remembered.
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Sure.”
Peter fumbled through his gym shorts pockets until he found his phone and handed it to Flash who stared at it with a disgusted look on his face.
“An iphone 4? Are you serious?”
Peter scowled and sat back down, facing Ned. Just when he had almost convinced himself that Flash may not be that bad. Of course he was that bad. Peter was thinking that maybe it would actually be better to do the project himself rather than have Flash help him when-
“WHAT THE FUCK do you have on your PHONE?!”
Peter snapped his head around, a sudden chill running down his spine, to see Flash holding up his phone with the photos app open.
“Why is your phone filled with pictures of y/n? God, Penis Parker, I knew there was something weird about you but not this weird! I’m going to have to call you Pervert Parker now!”
Peter stood up to stop flash from exposing his little secrets but it was too late. The whole gym had their heads turned towards them now. Including you.
“Where do you even get all of these? Isn’t this from a story? You took a screenshot? Parker, do you jerk off to these or something? Eww, gross!”
Flash ran over to you, handing you the phone. Peter’s mind went blank. Now he just wished this was all a dream. A really bad dream. It all seemed like slow motion. How you stared at Flash with a confused look on your face as he made his way towards you, how you took the phone and looked down at it, how your eyebrows morphed into a frown. And that’s when Peter ran.
He ran outside the gym, into the nearest bathroom, got into a stall, locked the door and slid down onto the seat.
He covered his face with his hands.
What was he going to do now.
-
And that was also when he realised that he had left you with his phone. With everything.
Everything.
-
AN: I’m sorry I didn’t post anything for a long time. I was just busy for a while and also my region is seriously effected by the coronavirus so things are kinda off balance for me. I really hope I can continue to post more things once it settles down. Also, I’m kind of trying out stuff for this one. Hope it was ok!
It was a rough night for Peter. Honestly, every night was rough ever since he left his little spot on your bed but tonight was especially worse. He never remembered it being this bad. Because it never was. Yes, he didn’t really like lightening. Yes, they bothered him. But it was never this bad.
Turning his head from the window, Peter hid himself underneath the covers. Why was it so hard for him? Everybody went through it, right? Every gunshot, every explosion, every weird alien technology they faced, they all got over it and he should too. He was an avenger now. It was about time he person-up a little. ‘Come on, Peter.’ He thought to himself as he rolled over to the side. ‘It can’t be that bad. You’re imagining it. See? It’s not even that loud when you don’t think about it…’
Well, maybe one day Spider-man will become a mature, experienced hero inside and outside of he battlefield. One day. But today, Peter found himself standing in front of a door he was way too familiar with. He sighed as he brought his hand up to knock, instantly regretting it.
What was he even doing here? He should go back. This was a mistake in the first place. He’ll just give up sleeping. Yeah, that wasn’t so bad. Tony slept like, what? 40 minutes a day? He was fine.
Peter weighed out his options. Confronting you vs. not getting any sleep tonight? He could take a restless night. But how about next time? And the time after? And the time after that? He couldn’t keep avoiding you like this. He had to tell you.
He took one last deep breath and knocked.
Peter’s heart sank when the door opened and he was met with your tired eyes.
“Oh, hey. It’s you.”
His mind suddenly went blank. What was he supposed to say? ‘Yeah, hey, it’s me. I don’t know if you remember but I have this thing with thunderstorms so I was wondering if you could hug me to sleep like when I was small and furry. Oh, yeah, and by the way, I’m in love with you.’?
He just stood there, staring at you blankly through the door frame.
“So… Uh, anything you wanted to say?”
“I, I mean, there was a really, really…loud…thunder. And I- It was just-”
When he finally gathered the courage to open his mouth, words just tumbled out, tripping all over each other and Peter knew that this wasn’t going to work. He must sound stupid. And even if he didn’t, the contents of his words definitely did. This is never going to work. He would always just be this rambling idiot in front of you. Peter quietly murmured an ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath. He was about to turn around and go back to his room when you took his hand and gently tugged it towards you. When he looked up at you, he saw those soft, understanding eyes that he knew so well. A sudden rush of relief washed over him, standing in that dark hallway, the single stray of light coming out from your room.
“Honey, It’s ok.”
What Peter did next, well, he wasn’t very proud of it. If there was a line in this messed up relationship, he definitely crossed it. But in that moment, he needed you. Only you. His world was tumbling down on top of him and yet, he just needed you.
When his lips interlocked with yours, it was like finally breathing for the first time in a very long time. He sucked you in, all of you, until every last inch of his body, the very last blood in his veins was filled with you. You, who he had so wished for.
It wasn’t until he was sure that he had died and went to heaven that Peter finally let go.
“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I know I shouldn’t-”
But you cut him off by reaching out and gently caressing his cheek.
“How about you sleep in my bed tonight, and we keep it a secret.”
“Does that mean-?”
“Yes.”
“Just to be clear, I didn’t mean-”
“Yes, Peter.”
“Ok.”
-
“I was cuter.”
“Yeah, but you’re not here anymore.”
Four months had flown by ever since Peter had showed up at your door and now, you two were looking inside a fence filled with a litter of six golden brown puppies.
Lots of changes had been made around the Avengers compound since then. The biggest one being that you had your own office now. Tony had emptied out a computer lab and redesigned it so that you could focus on your cases. Although you did miss being out on the field, you were happy that you could help in your own way. Especially when it involved Spider-man.
Speaking of Spider-man, that was another big change for you. You hadn’t had a boyfriend ever since…ever because you joined the Avengers way too early to get a chance at any of that and it took some getting used to.
Peter frowned.
“I’m still here!”
“You know what I mean.”
You gave the pouty boy a little kiss before turning to the owner.
“We’ll take this one.”
But above all that, this was about to be the biggest change yet. Tony, after the sixth time, finally said yes to making the compound pet friendly. (He also tried argue that an alpaca would make such a better pet but got denied by everybody else.) So there you and Peter was, ready to take home the newest member of the family.
“What are you going to name him, by the way?”
Peter asked as he opened the door for you at the passengers side of the car.
You smiled and looked into the black, round eyes of the little animal in your arms.
“His name is Ohana.”
Peter let out a laugh.
“Ohana means family?”
You nodded.
“And family means nobody gets left behind.”
-
AN:Hey guys! Thanks for reading and I’m sorry for being so late. I had a terrible cold (it wasn’t the coronavirus it’s ok I’m fine) and I just had 0 energy for the past few days. But here it is! The end of our Puppy-sitting series! I know it’s a bit cheesy but I found the ending satisfying. I didn’t give that much backstory for the reader but the Avengers is like family for her and she was feeling uncertain because of all the changes that they were going through and she felt like she was losing her place in it but as she looked after Peter she kind of realised that the Avengers is not just about saving the world but a group of people making each other better people. And Peter didn’t feel like he belonged in the Avengers because to him, he is still the little kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing instead of this great almighty hero but he also realises that becoming a part of the Avengers is not just about having cool skills and kicking ass but also being a team and a family and he learns that through reader because through her, he found that love. Ok just wanted to say that in case I forgot bye and thanks again for reading!
