This Is So Cute Omg??? This Made Me Smile So Hard🥺

hi, im s and i recently watch school spirits and im having a crisis! lol i made this blog for my love of the show (specifically wally clark).

so if you love all things wally clark and milo manheim, follow me! p.s. i plan on writing fics 🤭

i follow from @darlingholland !!

🧸🧸🧸🧸

♛ BROKEN CLOCKS ♛

― masterlist on november 25th

❝ senior year is rocky for everyone, but thankfully for peter parker, there’s only one week left of it, and the future is only brightening up. between fighting crime as queen’s friendly neighbourhood spider-man, interning at stark industries, and spending time with his girlfriend, it doesn’t look like he’s going to have much time to worry about attending nyu in the fall. but everything changes with a snap of thanos’ fingers. three years later, gone are slow dances at prom with you in his arms, gone are bonding moments with the only father figure he’s got left, and gone is the peter you remember. your worlds change again, breaking with them clocks, hearts, and futures that were set in stone. ❞

taglist link.

gonna go watch nwh for the second time😼

last night

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

synopsis: peter makes the morning after unforgettable.

word count: 0.5k

warnings: mentions of sex, kinda suggestive?

a/n: this is the cutest thing i've written i want to vomit :p pretend morning breath does not exist here p.s. cocky peter is the loml <33

waking up to the sound of a car horn blaring couldn't phase you this morning. and as you flutter your eyes open, you find yourself tangled up in your sheets with peter, who was currently sound asleep. a glimmer of sunlight streams through the curtains, illuminating peter's chestnut curls. light purple bruises strewn across his neck serve as an instant reminder of what happened the night before.

your suited boyfriend had stumbled through your window in the late hours of the night. the only words that could fall from his mouth were those reminding you of how he could not stop thinking of you while on patrol. and after many insistent and heated kisses, you and peter decided to give in to your desires for the first time since you started dating.

and now, the morning after, you lay clad in one of the many sweaters he's left, staring at your snoozing lover.

"take a picture, yeah?" peter's lightly chukles as he pulls you to his chest. slightly startled at his sudden consciousness, you look up to find his eyes sleepily gazing at you. a sheepish grin plays upon your lips as memories of his tenderness flood through your mind.

you begin to pepper feathery kisses over his chest, wanting to subtly thank him for last night. peter’s hands, once planted on your waist, now slide down to softly squeeze your bum.

"what do you want to do today, pretty girl?" you now burrow your face further into his chest, flustered under his words.

"mmm," your voice muffled, "stay here?"

pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, he responds with, "sounds good."

wanting to stare at your boyfriend a little longer, you decide to pull away to prop your head up with your arm. and for the first time since last night, you make proper eye contact with your darling boy. a shit-eating grin slowly forms on peter's face. you couldn't help but follow his stupid action.

this man.

he slowly takes in his view, a familiar keenness filling peter's eyes. "what're you thinking about, pete?

"i only dreamed of calling you mine just a couple months ago," he starts, "and now you're laying here in my clothes, totally fucked."

"peter!" you groan, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

"c'mere." his hands come up to pull you toward him once again. his fingertips slide up to the middle of you back, drawing patterns into your warm skin. this alone makes you arch into him.

"yanno, you're kinda sweet when you're half asleep."

scattering delicate kisses across your neck, he mumbles, "mhm, i'm always sweet." his breath fanning over your skin drives you crazy.

quickly growing tired of the teasing, you push peter back down, into the mattress. swinging your leg over the boy, you straddle his lap. you bend down, stopping just before reaching his lips, "i love you." but before he could get a word out, your lips are already on his. a pleasant warmth washing over you as the kiss grows hungry. teeth almost clashing as he grabs for your ass.

"fuck, baby." peter whines.

after a couple more moans from both you and pete, you slow down, now softly pecking at his lips.

"god, you're beautiful." he murmurs against your lips. flustered once again, you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

"so," he sighs, "how was last night?", asking as nonchalantly as he could.

you swear you could hear the smugness on his face.

"i don't remember. remind me again, parker?"

Drunk [p.p]

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

summary: Drunk you isn’t as good at hiding your crush as sober you.

warning: alcohol, cringe that comes from drinking (although this is very much a glorified version of being drunk) which is why you shouldn‘t do it, not smut but alluding to it (no smut while drunk, but sexual references and touching), bit of angst I guess, the words "penis parker" make an appearance...

This is a fictional reader drinking for you so you don’t have to do it in rl :)))

word count: 3k

-this is a repost of an old fic-

It’s the sixth time that Peter’s interrupted his swinging tonight, only to see you’ve texted him another song that they’re playing at the party.

The party that he couldn’t go to.

He was supposed to be your plus-one to some celebration in the neighbourhood. Peter’d said yes originally, but in the past few days it’s like the crime rates have been going up exponentially. Going to a party when he should be saving the people of New York? Nope.

You’d been all pouty when Peter gave a rather lame excuse once again, but you weren’t mad at him.

Together with Ned and Betty, you’d still gone to the party and right now it feels like you’re deliberately trying to make Peter jealous.

You keep texting him, they’re playing this song, they’re playing that song, until Peter gets notifications so often that he thinks you must be texting him every single song they’re playing.

He would rather be singing all those songs with you together than anything else, but he couldn’t just leave the streets to the criminals with a clear conscience.

So when another message pops up, (they’re playing his favourite song. great.) he quickly types an answer.

I get that I’m missing out, you didn’t have to text me every single song

He quickly adds a laughing emoji, but the previous message still sounds as passive-aggressive as Peter felt when he typed it out.

You don’t reply immediately and Peter mutes his phone.

The silence is deafening. He pictures how you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, happy that Peter finally replied, only to see a message like that.

He concentrates on being Spider-Man fully, but as soon as he’s sure that he’s done for the night, he texts you to notify him when you’re home safe.

You don’t get the message and he assumes your battery must have run out.

He also sees the reply you sent him after his message earlier;

Sorry

When he’s the one who should apologise to you. For that, and also to make sure you’re home, Peter goes to your place, knocking on the window after he’s changed into his normal clothes.

You’re all glammed up, looking like you just came home. Absolutely gorgeous.

Your face lights up when you spot Peter, you open the window for him, letting out a loud, “Peter!” You shout, are you drunk?

He tries to calm you down, “Shh, your parents will kill me if they find out I’m here now.”

“They’re gone for the night, you can chill.”

“So you’re just here, drunk on your own?” he asks.

“I’m not drunk,” you declare, giggling, then giggling even more at your own laugh. Cute. You don’t seem too far gone, luckily. He’ll still gladly take care of you.

As you stretch down to your shoes, not reaching them from your sitting position on your bed, Peter sits down on the floor to help you get them off; not taking into consideration that you’re wearing a short skirt…

He tries to concentrate on opening your shoes and sliding them off, and he gets the first one without looking up.

But before he gets to the second one, you lie down on your back, your legs moving forward slightly and Peter can’t resist a quick glance.

He swallows when he sees the lace panties smiling back at him from between your thighs.

Wait is that the print of your p-

Someone up there is trying to torture Peter for sure, what did he do to them?

You sit up abruptly and Peter fears he’s been caught, but you talk about the exchange of texts earlier.

“Oh Peter! I‘m sorry that I annoyed you earlier, I didn‘t mean to,” you pout, regret in your eyes.

“What?” Maybe with the state you’re in, Peter can brush his earlier mood off.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have been texting you every two minutes and disturbing you while you were helping May out,” your eyes start watering, unreasonably, and you might be drunker than Peter originally realised, “It’s just that they were playing all your and our favourite songs and it reminded me of you. I missed you so terribly and I wanted you to know that.”

Oh damn, that’s cute. Peter thought you’d been mad at him for not coming. But it’s the opposite.

These Instagram pages always say stuff like, get you someone who texts you even when they’re surrounded by other people, not just when they’re alone and bored. You did exactly that, and Peter still snapped at you.

You give him teary puppy eyes, your arms going around his shoulders, “Do you forgive me, Pete?”

“Of course I do,” he rubs your back, “Do you forgive me?”

You pull back, a soft smile on your face,  “Always.”

He hugs you again, feeling your tears drop down on his shoulder.

“I was just missing you and not realising that you were just doing the same.”

“Yeah, I missed you,” you say once again, in your drunken stupor.

You wipe your tears away and squeeze Peter’s cheeks, placing a sloppy kiss right on his lips with an exaggerated mwah sound.

Peter freezes. That might’ve been the best moment of his life, but you’re drunk and don’t know what you’re doing.

Before he can comprehend what you’re doing now, you pull off your top clumsily, now only in your bra.

“Mh- oh god.” Peter doesn’t know what to do so he sits down on the floor, turning his back to you.

“Peterr, I need your help!”

“You can change on your own,” he says as calmly as possible.

He hears a huff from you and a clicking sound a few seconds later and you fling your bra through the room. Peter tries not to look at where it lands.

“Can you give me clothes?”

“Yeah, where from?”

“The dresser, dummy,” you giggle.

“Uh what do you need?”

“A t-shirt and more comfortable underwear.”

He hears you undo the zip of your skirt and he can guess what’s next. He ignores that the thin piece of lace lands right next to him.

Without paying much attention to your collection of lingerie, he just takes out the first cotton panties he sees. “Do you want shorts?”

“No, they’re uncomfortable. I’d usually sleep without a shirt too but since you’re too scared to see me naked, I’ll put on a shirt.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” Peter says, trying not to go crazy with you being naked in the same room as him and all.

“I know, hey can I have my clothes now? My nipples are cold.”

Along with an oversized shirt, he scoots back on the floor, his back still to you, until he bumps against your legs.

He reaches out to pass you the clothes behind his back when he feels something soft, “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to touch your boob!”

“That was my leg,” you take his hand. Peter doesn’t realise what you’re doing until he clearly feels a nipple, “This is my boob.”

He stays lost in the new feeling for a split second, before pulling his hand back.

“See, you’re scared.”

“I’m not.” He’s not scared of seeing you naked or touching your boob. Okay, he’d be nervous. But you’re not sober and he’s scared that you wouldn’t want to do any of this if you were. He'd obviously want it.

Your knees knock against his back and he guesses you’re pulling your panties back up, Peter’s mind more focussed now that your most vulnerable part is covered again.

He feels your foot nudge the back of his jeans, “The last song they played before I went was Apple Bottom Jeans and that for sure made me think of your ass. If Captain America didn’t have that title already, I’m sure people would be calling your cake America’s Ass,” you giggle quietly and Peter blushes.

“My head is too big for this shirt,” you say after a few moments.

“I’m sorry but I can’t help you if you’re still half-naked.”

“I’ll cover up my boobs,” your voice is muffled by the shirt over your head.

Peter turns around reluctantly, your hands covering your nipples, and the sleeve-hole of the shirt laying atop of your head.

He helps you manoeuvre your shirt onto your body and he’s glad it’s long enough to at least cover your ass.

You lie down on your back, legs dangling off the bed while Peter goes to your bathroom, rummaging to find products to take your make up off with.

When he comes to your room, he thinks you’re asleep as he carefully sinks down on the bed next to you, make-up wipe ready in his hand.

You suddenly jump, “Launching attack!”, flipping Peter onto his back and straddling him, a playful smile gracing your features that’s wiped off your face when Peter says, “Could you get off me, please?” He’s just an innocent guy, why do you have to be a horny drunk?

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, are you mad at me again?”

“That’s not it, I’m just not sure if you’d be doing the same things if you were sober, so you can’t be sitting on my lap and stuff.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do anything sexual with you, the opposite, actually. But he can’t like this.

He wonders if you only drank something because you were third-wheeling with Betty and Ned, and wanted a distraction. He really should’ve gone with you.

“Do you want me to remove your makeup?”

You nod and angle your face towards him, closing your eyes, looking calm again.

After about twenty minutes of you complaining that he’s either too rough or too gentle with the wipe and moisturiser, your face is glowing and clear again.

“Do you want to get something to eat? I once read this trick online to get rid of a hangover, I don‘t know if it works because I‘ve never been drunk but we could try.”

At the mention of food you jump up, running to the kitchen already.

Peter feeds you hydrating food, different fruits and makes you drink half a litre of water.

“You‘re such a good caretaker, can you always take care of me?” you ask, an extremely charming smile on your lips.

“Of course, I‘ll always take care of you.”

“Pinky promise me!”

“Pinky promise.”

You kiss his cheek lovingly, “Love you, Petey.”

And no matter how drunk you are, that was genuine.

“Love you more.”

When Peter’s tucked you in and said goodnight, he disappears into the living room, lying down on the sofa.

You follow him and lie down right on top of him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not sleeping alone,” you pout, “Please?”

“Okay, but I’ll sleep on your floor.”

“But I want to cuddle.”

Of course you get what you want and soon you’re spooning on your bed.

Even though you seem thoroughly tired now, you’re still not ready to go to bed.

Your ass keeps pushing back against Peter’s crotch and he’s scooted so far back that he’s pressed into the small gap between the wall and the mattress.

“Come here, Pete. I’m trying to thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that. Cuddling is enough.”

You turn around to face him, making room for him. “Okay, I’ll leave Penis Parker alone, then.” Peter turns red but you don’t notice, throwing your arm over his chest and pulling him close.

Within seconds, you’re out like a light and Peter’s thankful that you’ll be back to normal again soon.

-

You wake up, limbs tangled with Peter’s. You know better than to worry that you slept with him. But it takes a few more moments of fully awakening to remember what happened last night.

Oh God.

Peter stirs when you try to get up and you pretend to sleep again.

Whatever he says, deny deny deny.

You wait a few more minutes, but all he’s done is hog the blanket and gently started snoring, looking like an angel.

He was also an angel to you yesterday, so you don’t want him to see your presumably messy hair and hungover state.

Climbing out of bed and into the shower, you freshen up quickly. You make breakfast, lucky that you have the ingredients for Peter’s favourite recipe.

You want to thank him for putting up with you yesterday and taking care of you so well.

You remember going to that fun party with Ned and Betty. How the only thing it was missing was Peter. They had plenty of good music and good drinks that were so good that you didn’t even notice how much alcohol was in them. Your head is only now starting to hurt as you remember how much you actually had.

You remember how you texted Peter and he was annoyed, but he came to your place through the window - wait, your memory must be weird here - anyway, Peter came to apologise and look after you. You’d for sure been a handful, so a nice breakfast is the least you can do to thank him.

Not too stable on your feet with that hangover, you decide not to risk it all by bringing the food in on a tray. As you walk back to your room, you see Peter rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, looking tired, but he still asks you first.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m good actually, nothing major, thanks to you feeding me,” you smile, sitting down with him.

“Oh you remember?” he smiles back at you sleepily.

“I told you I wasn’t that drunk! I remember how you came here, helped me change, remove my make-up and fed me,” you summarise, hoping he won’t go in on the details.

“Yeah, that’s it really.”

“So to thank you for all that, there’s a really delicious breakfast waiting-” he jumps up, already in the kitchen before you can even stand up to follow him.

*

It’s been a few days since that all happened and Peter’s back at your place.

He’s been thinking about all the things you said, and did, when you were drunk. And everyone knows drunken words are sober thoughts.

But since it happened, nothing has happened between you two. You’re friends, like before. Even though Peter was aware that you were being influenced by alcohol, there had been a little hope blooming in him all night, that you’d continue to openly show your affection towards him, but that was not the case.

Now he needs clarity.

“Hey, so, I know you said you remembered everything that happened the other night, but.. there are some things that you did that you didn’t mention, and I wanted to ask you about that. So first you-”

“I remember everything. I know I gave a very sparse summary, but that was just so neither of us would be embarrassed. But you’re right, we should talk about it. So sorry for… corrupting you?”

He chuckles, “That was not the problem, it’s just I didn’t know much effect the alcohol had on you and if those were your real thoughts or not..”

“The feelings I showed towards you were real, but if I’d had the guts to confess that I like you earlier, I would’ve approached it differently. Guess drunk me didn’t really give a fuck.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Peter says and leans forward to press an unexpected kiss to your lips.

You’re too surprised to kiss him back and he stops, readjusting himself, coughing awkwardly, “Sorry did you not- I uh,”

“No, no I’m sorry. I know that you were really nice to me when I was drunk, but I thought you were just saying that stuff to not hurt my feelings. So.. you like me too?” You haven’t comprehended the situation fully yet, but a smile blooms across your face anyway.

“Yes. How could I not?”

You take it in fully now, feeling drunk again because... is this real?

Finally both understanding that yes, you fucking like each other, you inch closer to each other again, both grinning like crazy.

Straddling him, with both of your valid consent this time, you start kissing him like you’ve wanted to all your life.

He kisses you back eagerly, his hands wandering under your hoodie, but politely staying at your waist. That’s before he pulls away, hair messy from you grabbing at it and even after your ten-minute make-out session he seems nervous.

“Tell me if I’m like making you uncomfortable or something but I have a question. That night you were very,” he scratches the back of his head, “Sexual. Was that just cause you were drunk or...?”

“I don’t remember every single thing I said or did so if I did something embarrassing then it was just cause I was drunk. But otherwise... I’ve had a crush on you for ages so…”

“So?” he asks.

“I’ve thought about having sex... or generally doing anything sexual with you a lot.”

“R-really?”

“It’s not just guys who think about it.” You shrug, going to kiss at his neck while he lets that information sink in. “What about you?” you wonder.

“Every day for about 4 years- I mean not every day. Not four years. But yeah definitely, I have.” He’s red as hell and can’t quite look you in the eyes.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about that... it’s hot, you’re hot.”

”You’re hotter,” he says, starting to kiss you again.

“What do you wanna do about it? Like, no pressure, never, but if you wanna do something sexual, I’m down.” Peter says, trying to sound more confident.

“Honestly, I really want to have sex with you right now but I think we should wait just a bit. I don’t wanna make that decision when I’m horny.”

“You’re horny right now?”

(He can be oblivious at times.)

“Yes, Peter.” You don’t have to ask him if he is, as you can feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh. You don’t mind it, as you know he’d never make you do anything you don’t want.

“Maybe for today we can just enjoy finally being with each other and go with the flow?” you suggest and he nods eagerly.

For that day you do nothing but kiss for hours, exploring each other with hands and mouths, comfortable the whole time because there’s no pressure. There never is with Peter.

You go to sleep that night, excited about your future together.

new peter fic up tmrw :)

#37 and 44 prompt with tom :))

❀ girls like you ❀

it’s my first time writing bartender!tom & it was a lot of fun, i hope y’all enjoy :’) i think this au is gonna be reoccurring on this blog lmao 😳 also! gif by the wonderful @cindymooons <3

prompts: (37) kitchen counter make-outs + (44) wrapping your legs around your lover’s body as they lift you

↳ bartender!tom, rich kid!y/n, secret dating au, a pretty frivolous make-out

word count: 1.4k

flufftober drabbles (requests are open!)

when the clock finally ticks 12:30 am, tom slides out from behind the bar and walks towards the large double doors leading to the hotel main lobby. it’s been a long shift; ten hours with only a half hour break in between to get off his feet and smoke a cigarette outside in the sweet, sweet silence.

customers of the four seasons bar are especially rowdy on a friday night. tom’s got a theory at least half the somewhat wealthy, married men of london go there instead of their homes, tan lines apparent on their finger where their wedding ring used to be, now shoved into the pocket of their work slacks. they drink like retired sailors and lay on the shameless flirting heavily. the former doesn’t really bother tom—after almost three years of bartending here, he’s at a point where he doesn’t really need a partner to split the workload with on busy nights.

as he slides the final lock shut, a loud throat clearing takes him by surprise, and he jumps up with his hands in a fight position. the sight of you leaning against the now open staff door behind the bar has him relaxing, but it’s too late; your arms are crossed over your chest and a very amused grin plays on your red lips at his ridiculous boxing stance.

“you scared the fuck out of me,” tom breathes, taking out the rag he slides into the belt loops of his trousers. wiping the closest table, he watches as you move to lean forward against the bar, giving him a better view of your cleavage.

“oops,” you say, tone utterly remorseless. “i’m not keeping you from work, am i?”

as if that’s ever stopped you before. tom shakes his head, pointing to the empty room. “just closing up for the day. what are you doing here, accepting an oscar?”

you snort, teasingly striking a pose. the gown you’re wearing probably costs more than his car; long, black, and shimmery. it’s sleeveless, a sweetheart neckline highlighting your chest and collarbones. “no, just a little gathering for one of daddy’s new sponsors.” you answer, shrugging casually as though it’s something everyone does once in a while. in your world, that’s the case, tom reminds himself with a bite to his inner cheek.

“had the time of your life, i gather?” he grins when you roll your eyes and mime a gun to your forehead. “nobody talks about the struggles of girls like you. poor princess.”

even several feet away from you, he notices the way your eyes darken at the pet name, and it fills his chest with pride. good, you’re not the only one who can tease.

“yeah, well, just wanted to see if you’re up to anything before i go home.” liar.

leaving the rag behind, tom walks decisively towards the bar, delighting in the way you take a step back when he’s right in front of you. “you’re sure no one saw you coming in here?” he asks, gaze flickering across your expression.

you nod, breath hitching in your throat at the intensity of his honeyed eyes. “i left out of the front door, walked to the end of the block, and entered the staff door through the alley.” you recount, like a kid reciting a memorised poem with pride.

“good girl,” voice raspy as it utters two of your favourite words, tom closes the cap between you, hands sliding around your waist. your chests press together a second before your lips do, and you skip the chaste kisses phase to get straight to open-mouthed, heavy-tongued ones.

your fingers disappear into his hair, the gel he coats it with tired after a long shift, and you work it off his curls pleasantly. moaning into your mouth, tom’s hands crawl up your bare back, drawing shivers along your smooth skin. one of your palms leaves his head, trailing up his uncovered forearms and into his blazer when tom wraps you tighter in his embrace. your heeled legs wrap around his hips as he lifts you up, holding you in place for a brief moment as you break the kiss and dive into his thick neck, before placing you on the counter.

the heat of your tongue sears his sensitive skin as you lick across tom’s adam apple, sucking on the junction of his throat and neck. breathless, his hands cup your face, mashing your unfurled mouths together in another passionate kiss. teeth clashing, tongues fighting, shaky groans floating across the charged air between you.

as thought it physically pains him to do it, tom sighs and moves a hair’s width away, putting an end to your intertwined state. he looks down to your lap, jaw clenching when he notices the slits in your gown that show your thighs and legs in your seat position, with his hips holding them apart. a slow smile curls on your lips when he places his palms on your skin, one of your hands falling on his wrist to draw figures on his strong forearm with the tips of your fingers. the other cups his cheek, raising his head up to lock your eyes.

“i missed you this week,” you whisper, honesty dripping from your words like tequila into a shot glass.

tom’s features soften at your confession, and he squeezes your thigh, bumping the tip of your nose with his. “missed you too, princess.” he mumbles back, although there’s no one around to overhear. “you’ve been busy, huh?”

“my mum’s on my ass about a charity gala we’re supposed to cohost, yet somehow all the work’s fallen into my lap.” despite the annoyance of your statement, your voice is gentle and sweet, in tune with the back and forth movement of your thumb on the apple of his cheek. “i wished i were with you every single day, though. i can’t wait until my parents fuck off to bali next week and you can have me all to yourself again.”

the grin that spreads on his face is completely shameless, like he’s swallowed a hanger, and he locks an arm around your waist, dragging you closer to the edge of the bar. “all to myself… i really like the sound of that, sweetheart.” tom mutters, taking your bottom lip between his teeth for a split second. “as much as i love quickies in the elevator, i just wanna watch a bloody film with you and go to sleep like a regular couple.”

your heart thuds a bit faster when he refers to the both of you as a couple, and you try not to show just how flustered the label’s gotten you. it’s not like you and tom haven’t been exclusive for a few months now, but your situation is so precarious—all the secrecy and running around and scheduling brief moments to meet in between the chaos of your individual lives… it’s just hard to define your arrangement. you can’t even express in words how much it means to you that tom is the one who breaks that barrier for you, and he does so casually, like you’re the only one who’s been obsessing over the seriousness of your relationship this whole time. knowing how head empty he can be, you probably are the only one who’s taken notice of this dilemma.

“i really want that too,” you giggle timidly, laying a kiss on his chin, “especially now that i know, thanks to harrison, you’ve cried while watching notting hill.”

tom throws his head back with a groan, though the corner of his lips fight to curve at the sound of your dulcet laughter. “why would he even tell you that? you’re both obsessed with me.” he jokes, rolling his eyes like a dramatic teenager.

“i’m not obsessed with you, tommy,” grinning, you take his hand into yours and bring it to your chest. “i’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

cheeks flushing a furious pink, tom’s mouth dries at the sweet nickname you address him with, before he bites on his lip and looks at you with the most vivid adoration you’ve ever seen. “don’t worry, the boy’s well on his way to loving you.”

i was hanging on by a thread there but i'm p sure I'M GONNA PASS MY CLASS!!!!!

He found you, and still finds you, absolutely beautiful, breath-taking, and wonderful.

ofc he does😌

“What- what? No no no, it’s okay. It’s okay. Are you okay?” he asks a slight rasp to his voice for just waking up.

i can hear him saying this n it’s beautiful :’)

He starts to think about how he’s going to teach that fucking brother of yours a lesson. He doesn’t even want or need to know what he did because the fact that you’re in this state tells him enough.

i love this line sm n i love protective peter <33

“C'mon, please?” he asks in a softer voice. How could you say no?

i rlly couldn’t even if i tried😭

“That’s what friends are for—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

this is so funny plsss

the beauty next door (peter parker x reader)

summary: your next-door neighbor is, to your surprise, always there for you when you need him

word count: 1.4k

warnings: angst, fluff, hint of language. this is a repost! (with a bunch of editing) but this fic will officially be considered a longer fic and no longer a drabble.

a/n: am i using an andrew garfield gif? fuck yea i am. but tbh w any of my peter fics you can imagine whichever peter you want to imagine. obviously most fics are more mcu, but from now on most of my peter fics are going to be flexible meannningg you could imagine it's tom, andrew or even play station peter :)

also hey mutuals i tagged in this, please lmk if you're okay or not okay w being tagged! it's been a while and i'm not sure who reads my stuff anymore haha

peter parker masterlist

Peter wakes up at sudden repetitive knocking at his front door. He grumbles and glances at the clock. Three in the morning.

He just went to sleep a couple of hours ago. He places his hands on his face and then sits up as the knocking continues. He flicks on the light and groans out loud with frustration.

“What the fuck,” he complains and throws his sheets off of him, getting up to walk towards the door. He peeks through the peephole and to his surprise, he sees you standing there. You're trembling and looking around frantically with tears all over your face. “Y/n?” he opens the door immediately.

Peter moved into his apartment not too long ago and met you. When he first met you, he offered to help with your boxes and take them up to your place where he later found out was across his. He found you, and still finds you, absolutely beautiful, breath-taking, and wonderful. He's more than happy to have you as his neighbor. Although, he was a bit surprised to find out you have a roommate, who happened to fortunately and unfortunately be your asshole of a brother. Though, you didn’t seem to mention him much so peter never asked.

Even though you and Peter didn’t get to see each other much because you both have your own busy schedules, you both couldn’t deny the pull you feel towards each other. Anytime you each had a chance to talk, whether it be meeting each other in the hallway, by the mailbox, or trash, you both took the time to get to know each other and catch up. Neither of you ever asked each other out, simply because you both have been planning to but haven't gotten around to it, yet.

You look up quickly and look at him with eyes full of emotions that he could recognize easily. Fear. Pain. He can feel your heart racing and opens his mouth to say something until you cut him off. Your lips quiver as you barely manage to murmur out, “I’m so sorry.”

Usually, you would never do something like this, wake up your poor neighbor at such an unusual hour but you know him and trust him and at the moment you felt like he was the only person you could go to. You're starting to feel a bit guilty now when your eyes rake over his exhausted face.

“What- what? No no no, it’s okay. It's okay. Are you okay?” he asks a slight rasp to his voice for just waking up. He cringes at his stupid question because he can easily tell you’re not okay but it was a question he'd always ask out of habit.

The simple question causes everything you were holding back to crash down on you. You choke on a sob and shake your head aggressively, hesitantly holding out your arms for him to hold you. You just want him to hold you, that's all you want right now and luckily, he does.

Peter immediately complies and pulls you into his embrace. He senses another presence and glances back at your place to see your brother slamming the door before storming off. He sends a glare toward him and brings you inside of his place, closing the door.

He places a hand on your head gently and the other on your back, rubbing circles onto your sweater in an attempt to comfort you. You cry loudly into the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around him, your hands are barely being able to meet as you try to hug him tighter. Your fingers grasp the materials of his shirt while your tears stain the clothing. Your knees gradually give up on you and you begin to slip through his arms.

He naturally adjusts and slides to the floor with you, holding you in between his legs. “Hey, I got you. Let it out,” he murmurs and massages your scalp, closing his eyes. He starts to think about how he’s going to teach that fucking brother of yours a lesson. He doesn't even want or need to know what he did because the fact that you’re in this state tells him enough.

You wail out as the memories flash through your mind. You weren’t sure why everything feels so painful. Everything mentally and physically hurts. All he did was yell, and yell, and yell. It terrified you every time. You thought at first you could handle it, but it seemed you’ve had enough, obviously. You couldn’t help but feel so weak after what had happened. So fragile. You thought to yourself, why couldn’t I be stronger?

Minutes fade into an hour. Your weeping falters into soft hiccups and coughs. Peter never stopped rubbing your back and soon he pulls away to glance at you. Embarrassed enough, you hide your face in his chest.

Christ, you’ve only known the guy for a month and here you are breaking down in his arms before you were even able to ask him out. as if you were ever going to though. 

“Let me look at you,” he murmurs and tucks a hair behind your ear. You really didn’t want to. You can already imagine how you look right now. Face red, nose runny, eyes puffy, sweaty skin, hair sticking everywhere. God. “C'mon, please?” he asks in a softer voice. How could you say no?

You groan quietly and begrudgingly lift your face up toward him. Now you can see his face. His stupid, perfect face. He begins to smile and you begin to frown. Why is he smiling? Did you look that bad? Before you could look away again, he carefully holds your face with his hand. “W-What?” you whisper, your voice hoarse and tired from the crying.

“You're absolutely beautiful, you know that?” he swipes a thumb underneath your eye, wiping away tears that you didn’t realize slipped out.

“No,” you reply honestly and sniffle. He chuckles quietly and continues to stare at you. You blush at his intense gaze and avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he rolls his eyes and pushes your head into his chest once again. He ruffles your hair which causes you to whine, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“But—”

“No buts. It's okay. I’m your friend. I’m here for you,” he mutters and places his chin upon your head.

You curl up closer to him and nod, placing a hand on his chest as he wraps his arms around you once again. “Thank you. Seriously. I'm here for you too..." you sigh and think back to everything that happened. You feel he at least deserves an explanation, "He—"

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you,” you reply, a bit shocked. You smile as your face smushes up against his chest and close your eyes.

“You don’t need to thank me. That’s what friends are for.”

“Are you really friend-zoning me right now?” you ask, your voice laced with sarcasm.

Your snarky retort throws him off guard. “W-What? No- no, it’s just I-I didn’t want to—”

“I’m joking.”

“Right, right,” he exhales and chuckles.

“Is it okay if I sleep next to you... tonight?”

“Yea, of course. Couch? my bed?”

“I don't care, just want to be next to you. If that’s okay.”

“More than okay, let’s go,” he stands up and swoops you up in his arms easily. Almost too easily, but you’ll bring that up later. He decides for you and walks over to his bed. He places you down and you lie on your back on the other side of his bed. He turns off the light and finds his way next to you, also lying on his back. He pulls the blanket up to cover the two of you.

You both stare at the ceiling, a comfortable silence filling the room until you decide to break it. “Can we cuddle?” you whisper and turn your head towards him.

He turns his head towards you and smiles tiredly, nodding. He sits up a bit and holds out his arms. You shuffle closer and wrap your arms around him like before, placing your head on his chest. He lies back down and pulls you flush against him. You drape one of your legs over him and sigh with content. You hear his heartbeat pound slowly, the rhythm almost like a lullaby. His breathing and the way his chest moves up and down calm you even more. “Thank you," you whisper.

“That's what friends are for—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

thanks for reading! what did you think?

tagging some mutuals!

@subspider @celestialholland @parkerpeter24 @parkers-gal @t-lostinworlds @peterbenjiparker @petershbw @petersgroupie @dhtomholland @heavenlyholland @selfcarecap @vendettaparker @supremethunda @marvelouspeterparker @blissfulparker @devotion @darlingholland @eloquenceflores @screamholland @reawritesthings @harry-hollands @hollandcrush @asonofpeter @ptersmj @bi-lmg07 @saturnpeter @spideyspeaches @spidernerdsblog @ms-misery