#Homecoming Fanfiction

[waitimcomingtoo]

A Film By Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter gets back into making little videos once the two of you start hanging out

warning: extreme 2017 homecoming era nostalgia

Masterlist

Of course he went for Liz.

Liz was the ingénue. She was perfect in every possible way. Perfect grades, perfect face, and the perfect boy pining after her. You’d been crushing on Peter since the third grade but with Liz around, he never noticed you.

But Liz was gone now. She had moved to Oregon following her dad’s arrest and taken Peter’s feelings for her with her. Now that she was gone, you decided it was time to stop pining after Peter from afar and start pining from up close. And so, when you walked into the cafeteria that day, you didn’t sit at the end of the table like you usually did.

“Oh, hey.” Peter smiled in surprise when you sat down next to him. Smiling was good. Smiling meant he wasn’t creeped out by you sitting so close. You gulped before giving him best smile back.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Ned asked, making Peter give him a look. You immediately regretted your decision and wished you’d just stayed in your usual spot.

“What do you mean? She always sits with us.” Peter pointed out.

“No, she always sits down there. She’s never actually sat with us before.” Ned replied and gestured to the end of the lunch table.

“Yes, but I’m sitting here today because I needed Peters help with the chemistry homework.” You said and put your chemistry notebook on the table. You knew you couldn’t just randomly sit with them without a reason, so you came prepared.

“Oh, for Mr. Eddie’s class? It’s easy. I’ll show you my notes.” Peter’s offered with a smile. You returned the smile as he pulled out his own notebook. It was a win/win for you since you actually needed help with the homework and it would start a conversation with Peter. While he was explaining the problem to you, you never once looked down at the notebook. You were too focused on the curve of Peter’s suspiciously long eyelashes, the longest you’d ever seen on a boy. Ned noticed the way you were staring his his best friend and frowned a little.

“Does that make sense?” Peter’s asked when he was done explaining.

“Yeah, it does. Wow, thanks Peter. It sounds so easy the way you explain it. I wish this stuff came as naturally to me as it does for you. You’re so smart.” You said as if you had listened to a single word he had said.

“That’s nice of you to say but I’m really not that smart. I just like chemistry.” He replied as he blushed from the compliment.

“Oh, come on. You’re the smartest guy I know. You’re the only one that answers questions in that class. And you always get them right. When Mr. Eddie asks if anyone has any questions, I don’t raise my hand because I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.”

“That’s I feel in English. I can barely make it through the first line in a poem and you’re already going back and forth with Ms. Teague about Pindaric odes or whatever they’re called.”

“You listen to when I talk in English?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Of course I do.” Peter shrugged. “I always find the reading boring until you raise your hand and talk about how you interpreted it. You make it interesting.”

“I liked that book we read when the kids ate the other kids.” Ned said and interrupted the moment. Your smile dropped as you and Peter looked at him with disgust.

“The one with the flies-“

“We know.” Peter cut him off.

“Anyways, thank you for helping me with the homework. I’ve been stuck on it all week.” You said to Peter.

“Ugh. That’s been me with my paper for Mrs. Teagues class. And it’s due tomorrow.” Peter groaned.

“Oh, the analysis essay? I could help you with that.” You offered.

“Really? You’d help me?” Peter smiled in surprise.

“Yeah. I already wrote mine. It would be no problem.”

Ned was watching this back and forth conversation for a while until it clicked it in head. He gasped and slapped the table, making you and Peter look at him.

“Oh my God.” Ned said. “That’s why you’re sitting here. You have a-“

“Can I talk to you for a second, Ned?” You quickly cut him off when you realized where that sentence was going. Before Ned could even answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him outside the cafeteria to talk in private.

“You like Peter!” Ned whispered harshly. You clamped your hand over his mouth and pushed him up against the wall.

“You need to keep your mouth shut.” You hissed. “Yes, I like Peter, okay? I’ve had a crush on Peter since middle school. He never noticed me when Liz was around but now that she’s in Oregon, I might finally have my chance. I don’t want to scare him off so just keep your mouth shut and let me handle this.”

You took your hand off Ned’s mouth and he started to gasp for air.

“Oh, please. Your nose wasn’t covered. You could breathe just fine.” You said with a roll of your eyes. Ned stopped pretended and straightened up.

“So you actually like Peter? For his personality?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Ned admitted.

“I like everything about him. And I’m gonna tell him that. Just please, don’t say anything before I do. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

“Are you going to cast a love spell on him using a lock of his hair?” Ned whispered to you.

“What? No. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because you’re a witch.” Ned said like it was obvious.

“I’m not a witch.” You groaned. “I just accidentally cackled that one time but it was only because I had phlegm in my throat.”

“Then about that time on the bus?”

“We’ve been over this. It was just a coincidence that that biker fell off his bike after I gestured with my hand. I didn’t move him with my mind.”

“And that one time in physics?” Ned narrowed his eyes.

“I still don’t know how that guys shirt caught on fire.” You shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me.”

“It caught on fire after he made fun of you for being a witch.” Ned pointed out.

“Maybe he was just standing too close to the flame.” You shrugged.

“He was standing in the doorway. There was no flame.” Ned reminded you.

“The magic of science.” You shrugged again.

“But what about that time-“

“Don’t bring up the nosebleed.” You whined.

“I am gonna bring up the nosebleed.” Ned hissed. “In sixth grade, our Spanish teacher got a nosebleed right after he told you to stop staring out the window and made everyone laugh at you. How do you explain that?”

“You’ve made your point, okay? Now are you gonna tell Peter or not?”

“Look, I’m not gonna expose your gross secret feelings, as gross and secret as they may be.” Ned sighed. “But Peter is still my best friend so I have to look out for him. I don’t want any spells cast on him.”

“That’s fine. There will not be any spells.” You held your your hands in defense. Just then, Flash walked by and laughed when he saw the two of you talking.

“Woah. What is this, the friendless loser convention?” Flash snorted.

“Shut up.” You snapped. Flash immediately tripped over his feet and fell to the ground, making Ned look at you with wide eyes.

“Witch!” He whispered harshly as he pointed a finger at you.

“Shut up. Let’s go back inside.” You rolled your eyes and pulled Ned back into the cafeteria.

Later that day, you met up with Peter in the library to go over your assignments. You started with his English essay and finished that within an hour before moving on to your chemistry homework.

“You can plug the numbers into your formula now using the method I taught you. And then you just solve for x.” Peter explained as you worked out a problem together.

“Hm. You make it sound so simple.” You sighed and leaned on your hand. Peter saw the way you were staring at him in his peripheral vision and felt his face heat up.

“It’s, uh, it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I never liked the way Mr. Eddie taught it. I figured this out myself and it’s worked much better for me.”

“Thanks for helping me. You’re a good teacher.” You said and put your hand on his arm. Peter laughed shyly at the contact and cleared his throat.

“Thanks. And so are you. That was the best essay I’ve ever produced. I honestly worry she won’t believe I wrote it.”

“Well if she says anything, I can vouch for you. You put in good work on this essay. You deserve the credit.” You assured him, making Peter blush all over again. It occurred to Peter that he never realized how pretty you were. You’d been classmates since 3rd grade so he always looked at you as just another girl in his class. Now that you had his full attention, he didn’t feel like looking away.

“Thanks. I appreciate you helping me write it. I know it can be frustrating to work with me because of my dyslexia.”

“It’s no problem. And it wasn’t frustrating at all.” You shrugged. Peter smiled at felt better about how long it took him to write the essay.

“Thanks.” He said. You had successfully gotten him to spend time with you one on one but now you needed to commence the next phase in your plan which was to hang out in a non school related setting.

“Would you ever want to hang out socially?” You blurted.

“Like, and not do homework?” He asked. You nodded your head and he smiled before nodding as well.

“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”

“Cool. Me too.” You smiled. You hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that but it worked nonetheless.

“Does this weekend work?” He asked you.

“Yeah. What do you want to do?”

Hard cut to that weekend. You were on the subway with Peter and he had his phone out to record himself.

“Firts social hang out with a girl. A film by Peter Parker.” He said in a low voice before flipping the camera to face you.

“Staring me.” You smiled and waved to the camera.

“Are you sure you’re cool with me filming this?” Peter asked as he flipped the camera back to himself.

“Yeah, of course. The other ones you showed me were so cute. But why did it seem like there were so many missing parts? You were always talking about something cool that I didn’t get to see.”

“Uhhh, no reason.” Peter said and looked to the side. He had skillfully edited out any incriminating superhero activity that you were not ready to see yet.

“Well I like it. I feel like I’m on Modern Family.” You said and posed for the camera.

“Which family member would you be?” Peter laughed and zoomed in on you. With his phone blocking his face, he could shamelessly admire your face on his screen.

“Duh. Lily.”

“I can so see that.” He chuckled. The subway lurched suddenly and you both grabbed onto the pole, coincidentally putting your hands in top of each others.

“Oh, sorry. Our hands touched.” You laughed shyly.

“Oh my God. So romantic.” Peter joked, making you blush and look into his camera.

“Stop it.” You laughed and covered his phone with your hand. He laughed as well and put his phone away.

After learn you had never been, Peter decided to the Lego Store. He’d been hyping it up to you all week over text and now that it was finally happening, he hoped it impressed you. You walked in together and Peter heard you gasp.

“Big Lego Aladdin.” You gasped and ran to stand under the giant magic carpet and Aladdin made of Legos.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that string of words come out of someone’s mouth.” Peter laughed and went to stand under it with you. You looked over at him and were surprised to see he was already looking at you.

“This is even better than you described it. You need to show me everything.” You said and excitedly shook his arm.

“I can do that.” He blushed and nodded his head towards some of the sets.

Peter took out his phone to film you as you looked at everything in the store. The way you were looking around like a little kid brought a smile to Peter’s face. He zoomed in on you and caught himself staring at you fondly through the camera.

“Come on. I haven’t even showed you the coolest part yet.” Peter said and brought you over to the build your figure own station. He laughed when you gasped again and started to excitedly rummage through all the pieces. Peter didn’t bring his phone out again until you had built each other.

“Show me what you made.” He laughed from the other side of the phone.

“Looks! It’s a little Peter. He has a backpack and a beaker.” You said as you proudly showed the camera the little Peter figure you had made.

“This is Y/n. I can’t believe I found the shoes you always wear.” He said as he filmed the figure he had made of you.

“You notice my shoes?” You asked with a smile. Peter didn’t catch it because he was too busy fitting the hands of your Lego figures together.

“Look. They’re holding hands.” Peter gasped.

“Aw.” You laughed. “Us on the subway.”

“We should give them some privacy. They might not want us to hard launch their relationship.” Peter said and put his phone away.

“You’re so cute.” You laughed without thinking about it. Peter looked up at you with rosy cheeks and you gulped when you realized what you said.

“I mean-“

“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He cut you off before you could explain. He brought you to Delmar’s and ordered his usual for you to split. You sat together inside and you tried your best to remain calm. You always wondered what Peter got up to when he wasn’t at school and now you were in one of his favorite places and eating with him.

“Okay, this is Y/n’s first time eating at Delmars since he reopened. Let’s get her reaction.” Peter said as he filmed you unwrapping the sandwich.

“Wait, why is it so flat?” You laughed and held the sandwich up.

“Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot to warn you that he always squishes it for me. But you’ll like it. Trust me. It’s much better when it’s squished down real flat.”

“Well I’m glad I now know you like your sandwiches to be squished. I would not have expected that about you.” You said and took a bite of your half before giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked hopefully.

“I do. Your squishy sandwich was surprisingly good.” You admitted.

“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that.” Peter smiled and phone away. “So to make it even, you have to show me one of your favorite places next time we hang out.”

“Oh.” You smiled coyly. “I didn’t realize there would be a next time.”

“There better be. I had a lot of fun with you today. How come we’ve never hung out before?”

“I don’t know. I always wanted to but you were busy running around with Ned or staring at…” You trailed off and chose not to mention Liz in case he was still hung up on her.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re friends now.” You said instead.

“Me too. I’ve never had a girl friend.”

“What was that?” You said and started choking on your saliva.

“All my friends in my life were guys. It’ll be nice to have a female influence in my life.”

“Oh. Girl friend.” You smiled tightly.

You hung out another hour before taking the subway back to your respective apartments. Peter walked to you the front doors of you building and you had an awkward moment where you didn’t know if you should hug or not.

“We uh, we should probably get an ending for your film.” You said with a timid smile.

“Oh, right. Thats a great idea.” Peter smiled and pulled out his phone. He pressed record and you waved to the camera with both hands.

“So, can you give our first time hanging out a rating?” He asked you.

“9/10.” You grinned and held up two thumbs.

“What? Why’d I only get a 9?” Peter scoffed and pretended to be offended.

“I had a 10/10 time but I have to deduct a point because we saw that guy cutting his hair on the subway and I was scared he was gonna throw the scissors at us.”

“Well I would’ve just protected you with my lightning fast reflexes.” Peter said simply. You smiled at him through the phone and he smiled back. He put the camera down and looked at you with a content smile on his face.

“Seriously, though. When’s the next time we’re hanging out?”

It ended up being just a few days later. And then again a few days after that.

“Peter’s first time!” You cheered as you filmed him during one of your hang outs.

“Trying boba.” He clarified. “I don’t understand this drink. Do I eat the balls?”

“Yes. Sip it slowly so they don’t all go down your throat.” You instructed. Peter took a big sip and immediately started choking.

“Peter! I said slowly!” You said as you slapped his back until he stopped choking. You quickly put the camera down to help him recover.

Your hangouts started getting more and more frequent and Peter soon considered you a best friend. Your weekends became each others and school days were often spent together in the library or at one of your apartments. You were quickly moving up the ranks in Peter’s life, just as you hoped. And the closer you got, the more Peter could not believe he had never noticed you before.

Little did you know, Peter often found himself watching the footage he had taken of you during your hang outs with a big smile on his face. He’d rewatch the videos he had taken and realize that they were slowly becoming less of a documentary and more of a highlight reel for you. He never imagined a girl as cool as you would for him so when he realized he was starting to fall for you, he quickly repressed his feelings. Little did he know, the feelings were mutual.

“Did you always make these little videos?” You asked Peter one day as he filmed you trying to balance on the curb of the sidewalk.

“I used too make them all the time but I hadn’t for awhile. I only started them again when we started hanging out.”

“Really? Why?” You wondered and stumbled off the curb.

“I don’t know. You remind me of the time before my life got crazy. It made me want to do these again.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help but smile at that information and turned around to look at him.

“So I could be the star?” You asked and posed for the camera.

“Exactly. You’re my muse.” He played along, making you laughed shyly. When he watched the video back later that night, he knew he had meant every word of that.

Peter sat in his bedroom one day and filmed himself wearing your glasses while you did homework at his desk. He looked over you every now and then just to admire the back of your head.

“Don’t break those.” You called without looking up. All you needed to hear was the sound of your glasses case opening to know what he was doing.

“I’m not even wearing your glasses.” He lied and admired himself in the camera.

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not. But yes, I am.”

“Knew it.” You snorted.

“Hey, how come girls always smell so good?” Peter wondered. “Your hair hit me in the face when you turned too fast before it smelled like a baby in a damn meadow.”

“It’s just my womanly essence. Now can you stop looking at yourself long enough to help me with my chemistry homework?”

“It’ll be hard but I can try.” Peter dramatically sighed and set his phone down. You got yo from the desk and went over to the bed with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Incoming.” You announced and patted your elbow twice like a wrestler.

“No, don’t.” He pleaded. You ignored his pleas and jumped on top of him. He groaned and pushed you off, leaving you laying in the bed beside him.

“Ow. My ribs.”

“You’ll heal.” You rolled your eyes. “Now can you help me with number 7?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem. Can you check this email before I send it?” He asked and handed over his laptop. You handed him your worksheet before reading over his email draft.

“Oh, honey.” You grimaced just a few words into the email.

“Is it bad?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Howard. I hope this email finds you well. I’m so sorry for bothering you. I was just wondering if I could possibly have an extension on my midterm paper? No worries at all if an extension is not possible. I apologize for any inconvenience this email may have caused. Thank you for reading, Peter Parker.” You read out loud.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“After your name, you included the name of the class, the time you have it, and a description of yourself. She knows who you are!” You laughed and turned the laptop around to show him his mistakes.

“She may have forgotten.” He pointed out. “I can’t take any chances.”

“Peter, this email is way too submissive. You sound like such a bottom.”

“Well excuse me, genius.” He said sarcastically. “How would you write it?”

“Here.” You said and handed the laptop back after retyping his email.

“Oh, wow. That’s actually really good.” He said once he read your updated version.

“This is why we are such good friends. You have all the math and science knowledge in this little, beautiful head of yours-“

“Little?” He interrupted.

“You’re right. Sorry, I was just being nice. What I meant to say is that your head is huge.” You corrected. “Anyways, you have the math brain and I have the literary brain. It’s like you’re Einstein and I’m Victor Hugo.”

“Who the hell is that?” He laughed as he peaked at your mirror to see if his head was actually huge.

“The guy who wrote Les Mis.” You said like it was obvious.

“Never heard of it.”

“What? You’ve never seen Les Misérables?” You asked in a thick French accent.

“Huh?”

“We have to watch it. It’s so good.” You said and snatched his laptop back. You pulled up the movie and handed it back to him.

“Oh my God. It’s two hours and 38 minutes long? And a musical? Hell no.” Peter shook his head and pushed the laptop away.

“But it’s so good.” You urged. “We can just leave it on in the background while we work. It’s super light and easy to watch.”

“Really? What’s it about?”

“Oh, you know. Just war torn France.” You mumbled.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But you’ll like it! There’s prostitution and con men and um…oh! And orphans! You can watch it and feel represented.” You said and shook his arm.

“I hate you.” He laughed but nearly gave in to your request just to see you happy.

“Fine.” You huffed. “I finished editing your midterm paper, by the way. You don’t actually have to send that email.”

“And here is your completed chemistry homework.” Peter smiled and handed your worksheet back.

“Aw.” You gushed. “Look at us. I love cheating with you.”

“So do I. We make a great pairing.” He chuckled as he looked over at you. You looked back at him and gulped. You hadn’t realized how close you were with your arms and legs pressed against each other as you sat together in your bed. Peter knew his sheets would smell like your perfume that night and smiled at the thought.

“Now that we’re all done with our work, you know what we should do?” He asked as he moved in closer.

“W-what should we do?” You stuttered now that he was right there.

“You know what I’ve been dying to do with you for a long, long time?” He asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. What?” You laughed nervously. Peter moved in even closer and right when you thought he was gonna kiss you, he reached over and grabbed his laptop back.

“I wanted to show you a real musical. Not this French miserable bull crap. Have you ever seen a little movie called Hair-“

“No. I’m not watching Hairspray with you again. You scream-sang every lyric last time and I couldn’t even hear it.” You cut him off and reached over home to take the laptop back. He pulled it away at the last second and you ended up on top of him. You looked into each others eyes and both froze in the positions you were in. Your faces were almost touching but neither of you tried to pull away. Your eyes were going back and forth between his lips and eyes and he was doing the same. Like magnets, you two started to lean towards each other but before your lips could connect, May opened the door.

“What did you guys want- oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize I would be interrupting something. My bad.” May smiled sheepishly and pretended to cover her eyes. Peter burned bright red as you quickly climbed off of him.

“May.” He said warningly.

“Sorry. But maybe lock the door next time. And use protection.”She whispered the last part before shutting the door.

“May!” He groaned and threw a pillow at the door. There was a long, awkward silence before you were even able to look at each other. When you finally did, you smiled awkwardly and kept your distance.

“That was so weird. What did she think we were doing?” You laughed nervously to break the silence.

“Psh. I know.” Peter scoffed. “She said she was interrupting but we weren’t even doing anything.”

“Yeah. What did she think? That we were gonna kiss or something?” You asked and laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing you could ever suggest.

“Us? Kissing? How silly. Imagine that.” Peter forced a laugh as well and looked to the side. The awkward silence returned and you struggled to look at each other.

“Do you think she made dinner?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“Let’s check.” You said and quickly got off the bed.

You didn’t discuss the almost kiss and went home shortly after. You couldn’t sleep that night because you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your mind. No matter how much you wanted him to like you back, if Peter reciprocated your feelings, he would have kissed you.

Your pity party didn’t last long because on the subway the next day, you felt Peter put his earbud in your ear. You heard the Les Mis soundtrack playing in your ear and looked up in surprise. Peter was already filming you with a huge smile on his face.

“This guy 24601 should stop stealing bread and stick to singing. He has serious pipes.” Peter said.

“You listened to it?” You melted into a smile and held your hand over your heart.

“Yep. I stayed up all night watching lyric videos because I couldn’t understand what they were saying with their accents. It’s actually really good. I love Eponine. I just wish Marious wasn’t such an idiot. How does he not see that his best friend is clearly in love with him?” Peter asked with exasperation. You looked directly at the camera and hoped it picked up the irony before looking at Peter again.

“He’s not an idiot. He’s a romantic.” You sighed. “He doesn’t notice Eponine because he’s in love with Cosette. And course he is. She’s prettier and richer and has perfect hair. He doesn’t even see Eponine.”

“Good hair isn’t everything. Eponine is way better than Cosette.” Peter scoffed. “I’m team Eponine all the way.”

“Are you really?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, for sure. I see why you like this stuff. These songs are awesome.” Peter said and put the other earbud in his ear. He then flipped the camera around to film the two of you sharing earbuds. As Heart Full Of Love played in your ears, you couldn’t help but longingly staring at Peter. The fact that he had stayed up late just to listen to something you suggested made you overcome with fondness for him. If he had done something like that, maybe he actually did feel the same.

“I forgot how good this album is. I haven’t listened in a while. I used to listen to it all the time back when you…” You stopped short when you realized you were about to say too much.

“When I what?” Peter wondered. You looked him in the eyes and decided that it was time to be honest. The song ended and a new, much louder one began to play in your ears.

“Back when you liked Liz. She was Cosette. I was Eponine. I was the one pining after a guy who never noticed me because he was in love with another girl. You were never mine to lose.” You admitted. Peter stared at you for a minute before pulling his earbud out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said. Master of the House is such a banger. What did you say?” He asked you.

“Never mind.” You smiled. “It wasn’t important.”

He smiled back before getting a text on his phone. You looked at his phone when you heard it buzz and realized he was still recording. In other words, he had just recorded you saying you liked him. Your eyes went wide but you only had a second to panic when you read the text he had gotten.

“Did Liz just text you?” You asked in a quiet voice. You felt like you were about to throw up. Years of crushing on a boy who liked another girl turned into months of pinning for your best friend and now turned into a rock in your stomach. Peter stopped recording the two of you to answer her text, which felt a little like a slap in the face.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been talking lately.” He absentmindedly replied to you as he laughed at whatever she had written.

“You have?” You asked with a dry mouth.

“Yeah. She says Oregon is pretty cool. But she wants to come back and visit this summer to see everyone.” He told you.

“And see you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “It would be nice to see her.”

“Yeah. Totally.” You said weakly. “So how long have you guys been talking?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks? She texted me a little while ago and we’ve been catching up.”

“That’s awesome.” You lied.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again after she moved.”

“Neither did I.” You said through a forced smile. You needed to get off the subway and away from Peter before you started crying. So as soon as the subway doors opened, you bolted out.

“I gotta go. See you later.” You called to him before running through the subway station. You wiped tears as you went up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until you were in a bathroom stall at school. You gave yourself five minutes to be upset before drying your face and leaving the bathroom. It sucked, but it could have been worse. Now, Peter never had to know how you felt about it.

Peter was beyond confused by your exit on the subway but he wasn’t about to get any answers from you. You dodged his texts throughout the day and didn’t dare go into the lunchroom where you knew he and Ned would be.

“Y/n isn’t here yet?” Peter’s huffed as he sat down at your usual lunch table.

“Not yet. Actually, I haven’t seen your girlfriend all day.” Ned realized.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter blushed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me. She’s been so weird ever since this morning. Everything was fine on the subway until we got to school.”

“Well did anything happen on the subway that would weird her out? Oh no. Did you graze her boob with your hand again?”

“No. That was one time. And it was her boobs fault, not mine.” Peter whispered harshly. “We were just listening to music together and I was filming her like normal. But she could not get away from me faster once the doors opened. It was so weird.”

“Did you say anything weird to her? Girls don’t like it when you say weird things to them.”

“I know that. I didn’t say anything weird.” Peter replied as he pulled out his phone. He watched the video he had taken on the subway with no sound to see where he had gone wrong. All he saw was you looking at him with heart eyes which made his face heat up. But still, no evidence of where he messed up.

“I knew it. We were having a normal conversation about Les Mis and then I got a text from and then she ran. It makes no sense.”

“What was the text? Was it May saying something weird?”

“No. And stop saying weird. It doesn’t sound like a real word anymore.” Peter ordered. “And the text was just from Liz.”

“Oh shit.” Ned said when he heard this.

“What?” Peter wondered.

“Oh, Peter.” Ned sighed. “Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“What?” He asked again, annoyed now.

“Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or just keep saying my name?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy. And I don’t want Y/n to put a hex on my family.” Ned said and held up his hands.

“Y/n swore you to secrecy? About what?”

“Can’t say.” Ned shrugged and zipped his lips.

“Does she not like Liz? And doesn’t want me to know?”

“Dude. Dude, dude, dude, dude. You are so close but so far.”

“So she does like Liz? Oh my God. Does she a crush on Liz? And she’s jealous that Liz texted me and not her?” Peter whispered with wide eyes.

“You’re getting colder.” Ned waved his hand. “I don’t even know how you got there.”

“That was all my guesses. Just tell me.” Peter whined.

“Hell no. I don’t want Y/n to curse my crops and make not grow for all of eternity.”

“You don’t have crops.” Peter pointed out.

“I could develop some.” Ned snapped.

“I just don’t understand what she would tell you something but not tell me. We’re best friends. She usually tells me everything.” Peter said right as his thumb accidentally hit the volume button on the video. Your confession to Peter on the subway was heard loud and clear by the two boys. Both of their jaws dropped as the video ended with you asked if Liz had just texted Peter.

“Well I wouldn’t have beaten around the bush like that if I knew you had video evidence of her saying she liked you right in your hands.” Ned sighed dramatically.

“I need to find her.” Peter said and ran out of the lunchroom. He looked around the school until he found you under the bleachers in the gym. You were sitting with your back against the wall and your knees drawn to your chest with your earbuds in your ears. When you saw Peter coming up to you, you quickly pulled them out.

“Hey.” He said and waved cautiously.

“Hey.” You smiled sadly as he sat beside you. You sat in silence for a minute as neither of you knew what to say.

“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you all day.” He started off. You looked at your hands to avoid making eye contact and sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to Liz?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t hiding it. I just didn’t think it would interest you.”

“Well you have no idea how interesting I found it.” You laughed dryly. “What do you guys talk about anyway?”

“Well, she originally texted me to ask me to confirm I had an internship at Stark Industries because her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she knew a guy who worked there. Apparently he’s been trying to get an internship there for years and he wanted to know how I landed mine. Then we just started catching up. I only talk to her here and there, though. And it’s only ever about school or work.”

“Oh. I thought you guys were talking talking.” You couldn’t help but smile a little when you heard the word “boyfriend.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just regular talking. When you saw her text on my phone, she was telling me about her cat getting spaded. And I didn’t know what that meant so she had to tell me. I should’ve just googled it.”

You laughed softly at that and he did too. The tension was let out of the conversation and you could finally breathe again. When you stopped laughing, you finally looked in his eyes.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” You asked quietly.

“For her? No.” He laughed. “Those are long gone. I have feelings for someone else now.”

“Oh God. Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.” You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Peter looked at you for a minute until an idea came to him.

“Actually, uh, I came looking for you because I was just making another video. Wanna be in it?” Peter asked and took out his phone. You looked at him like he was crazy and could not believe he had just asked that during that moment.

“I’m not really in the mood right now, P.”

“Come on. I can’t make it without my muse.” He said and nudged you slightly. You couldn’t help but to smile at that and reluctantly nodded. He propped up his phone against the bleachers and pressed record.

“In a world where two best friends have no idea how to communicate despite spending way too much time together.” Peter said in a fake deep, gravely voice.

“Okay. Shade. That’s fine.”

“What will it take for them to admit they have feelings for each other?” He kept the voice as he looked at you.

“Wait, what?” You asked and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Peter smiled softly at you and shrugged a little.

“What’s it gonna take?” He asked again in his normal voice.

“I don’t understand.” You laughed nervously.

“I watched the video from before. From the subway. I heard what you said.” He admitted.

“Oh shit. You watched it?” You grimaced.

“Uh huh. So if you’re Eponine, I guess that makes me the idiot who didn’t realize his best friend was in love with him?”

“I guess so.” You said with a tight smile and still didn’t understand why he wanted to film this incredibly awkward conversation.

“You know, if I didn’t have a video of it, I never would have believed that you liked me.” Peter told you.

“You wouldn’t? Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t seem possible that the coolest girl I’ve ever met liked me.” He replied.

“You think I’m cool?” You asked skeptically.

“I think you’re the coolest. And you know, I watch the videos I take of you all the time. And half of them are just clips of you existing. So I do notice you. It just took me a second to catch up.” He told you. A smile tugged at your lips as you stared into his big brown eyes.

“You’re my best friend.” You told him. “I’m sorry I want more.”

“I’m not sorry.” He shrugged.

“You’re not?”

“I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up and find that what I’ve been looking for has been here the whole time.” He said as he hooked his pinky under your chin and brought your face close to his.

“Wait, why does that sound so familiar?” You wondered.

“Don’t think about it too hard.” Peter whispered right before your lips touched. You kissed for the first time under the bleachers but it could have been in a palace for all you knew. The world disappeared around you as Peter slipped a hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you rested your foreheads together and laughed nervously together. It was a good nervous, a happy feeling of anticipation.

“Was that Taylor Swift?” You realized when you finally placed where you knew that like from.

“Shh. No.” He shook his head. “But yes, it was. You’re not the only one with good music taste.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #Peter Parker mutual pining #peter parker x best friend!reader #spiderman homecoming #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #peter parker x y/n

[starch1ldz]

Spider!Y/n holding up his phone: I put a tracker on someone, he's a bad guy.

Spencer: Why.. And how?

Spider!Y/n: a magician never reveals his secrets, right Spence?

#star child speaks #incorrect criminal minds quotes #incorrect quotes #i dont know #this is based off something tom holland spiderman says to karen in spiderman homecoming #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x reader #im mentally unwell

[miela]

Shattered Memories {Masterlist}

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Reader Type: Afab! Iron Spider! Silk! Avenger! Stark!

Length: Series (Longish, about 20 chapters)

Series Genre(s): Romance with Dramatic and Comedic undertones (if you squint)

Series Theme(s): Fluff, Angst, Smut (some Dark themes)

Series Summary: After Peter sacrificed his identity for the sake of the world, five years go by before he finds you back in his life again.

Series Content: Content from Civil War, Homecoming, Far From Home and No Way Home will be heavily present. Some content from other MCU movies and shows may come up here and there.

Series Warnings: 18+ {MDNI}, Mentions of substance abuse, alcoholism, s*icidal thoughts, self-harm, abusive relationship (not Peter x Y/N) in later chapters. warnings subject to change. Please proceed with caution.

Extra Content: A Few of my OCs are in here! Let me know if you want me to make a character list to reference.

You can also send in request for drabbles for this story/AU!

Updates: Fridays (may post chapters eariler, but there will usually always be an update on fridays)

➼ Playlist

➼ Pin Board

➼ Trello

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

CHAPTERS:

Prologue: The Last Moment Before New Beginnings Chapter I: The Expo & The Files Chapter II: A Sense of Reunion Chapter III: A Sense of Reunion II Chapter IV: What Friends Are For Chapter V: The Do Over Chapter VI: Two Spiders, One Sorceress Chapter VII: Full of Feelings Chapter VIII: Lovers at the Gala Chapter IX: The Thread of Silk & Gold Chapter X: The Return of a Hero Chapter XI: Hummingbirds & Honeybees Chapter XII: Sunflower Love Chapter XIII: The Rumor & The Scandal XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX (MORE TBA)

DRABBLES:

Two Peas in a Pod {Friendship with Gwen} A Sense of Reunion {Alternate Universe}

#peter parker x stark!daughter #spiderman #peter parker #tom holland #marvel #mcu #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman x you #peter parker x stark!reader #spiderman no way home #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #peter parker x silk!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #mcu marvel avengers #mcu peter x reader #mcu peter parker #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #afab reader #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x afab!reader

[qsphyxias]

idk if your requests are open but i was wondering if you could write a (tom)peter parker x male reader fluff because i really enjoyed the other ones that you have written 🫶🫶🫶🫶 much love

if you read yaoi and/or bl regularly as a woman, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; peter parker x male! reader

warnings ; male (he/him) reader, cussing, (tom holland) peter parker, established relationship

note ; love me some classic peter parker fanfiction - and thank u for requesting!! not sure how long this has been sitting here for whoops

words ; 0.8k +

"Hey, boyfriend." You snickered, hanging your head over him. Multiple strands of hair followed your sudden movement — blocking your view of him, or rather, his view of you.

He looked up at your face and pushed the strands of your hair to the side of your face without thinking much of it. The smile he beamed right back at you made you feel as if he was trying to move away curtains that revealed a most breathtaking view — you, his wonderful boyfriend.

As cheesy as it sounded, the way you looked at him and leaned down made his mind play one of the most righteous theme songs of the Star Wars trilogy. The feeling of your face against his hand, the desire to just hold you and never let go, the heat of his blood rushing everywhere, it was scary. Peter could hardly think straight when you let a small smile shine through your expression, where was he supposed to look? What was he supposed to touch?

As if on instinct, Peter's hands that were once placed on either side of him on the bed, took action and slid up your waist to gain a little bit more control once he saw you close the distance a bit more by resting on your elbows instead of your palms when hovering over Peter.

His grip caught you by surprise, who knew he could be so initiating?

"Is... Is that okay?" He murmured, watching your expression, terrified he was maybe too assertive this time.

He already went through this struggle with where to touch, back when he thought he only liked girls — but now, it's different. Despite all those experiences, It's like he had to relearn everything about the boyfriend world. It's not the same, because this time, he's the one with the boyfriend, not so much the one having to worry about his role as the only boyfriend in the relationship.

And Peter really doesn't want to fuck it up with his boyfriend.

To his shock and awe, you snorted, dismissing all his worries with one single breath.

"Peter, your heart's made of pure gold, isn't it?" You sighed as you fully relaxed into your new boyfriend's arms, letting your arms slide underneath the small of his back and lock softly.

With your eyes closed, and ear against his heart, Peter could comfortably wear his expression of pure exasperation as he settled into your embrace — not having to worry about you reading his face.

"Uh," Peter leaned his head back against the pillows to think, causing his throat to relax under the pressure of gravity — producing a scratchy tone in his larynx, once could only describe it as infatuation-inducing. "Well, maybe. I mean, I let you be my boyfriend, didn't I? I must be a saint!" He joked, a complete 180 to his previous attitude as he attempted to lighten the heavy romantic tension. A smile adorned his face with ease as he looked down at you for a (hopefully) good reaction.

You opened your eyes to playfully glare at him, "I take back what I said; your heart's made of pure lego — it's completely evident."

Peter feigned offence, "Hey, what makes you say that?" getting a bit more comfortable, he rolled over to face you instead of having to crane his neck down, keeping his hands flush against your back throughout.

"The way your joints click and clack, the way you get all stiff and plastic-like when you get nervous, the way you're practically indestructible — not to mention how much space you allow Lego Star Wars to take up in your heart; there's lots of things, Peter. " You laughed near the end of your mini-speech, fiddling with the the collar of Peter's shirt right in front of your point of view.

"And hey, you're basically built like Lego Batman with those 12-pack abs. Not that I'm complaining..." Peter flushed at the blatant flirt directed at his body.

"I did not come here today to be berated, s/o." Peter chose to ignore the last thing you said, "and I do not get 'plastic-like' when I'm nervous." Peter frowned, to which you chuckled.

"You came here because you missed me, be honest." You corrected.

"Well... Yeah, but you don't have to say it out loud." He mumbled, his shy expression breaking into a grin when he saw you smile first.

"Why not? it's true, isn't it?" You closed the distance between the two of you even more, chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, lips-to....

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned up to kiss him, shuddering when you felt his hand rub your back with a gentle force, pulling you impossibly closer to him to fully close the distance.

As the two of you kissed, Peter held you close and vowed to himself in his head, to always protect you. Because to protect you, means he'd be protecting precious moments like these.

#male reader #male reader fluff #fanfiction #male reader blog #spider man fanfiction #spider man x reader #spiderman x male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spider man x you #spiderman #spiderman no way home #spiderman far from home #spiderman homecoming #spiderman nwh #tom holland peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker #peter parker x you #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction

[astroboots]

Morning Sunshine

Summary: Once again, you wake up to Santiago in bed with Frankie and you.

Content: pr0n, pr0n, pr0n. This gets smutty.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) x Frankie

Wordcount: 6,900 words of depraved smut.

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

You have a recurring dream. It is a dream your mind conjures whenever you're anxious. Back in College it was the night before an exam, now that you're working it's before a performance review. But most frequently this dream will always rear its ugly head the last few days before Santiago is going to be leaving.

Leaving for deployment. Leaving for a private job. Leaving for the sake of leaving.

In this dream of yours, unlike the archetype of a stress dream, you're not standing naked in front of a class. Your teeth don't fall out through a hole in your cheek. Nothing much of note happens in it. You're just standing on a tarmack of an empty airstrip, waiting for a plane that never comes no matter how long you stand there. It doesn't arrive even as your feet become sore and throbs and aches with blisters. Doesn't arrive even as the clear blue sky turns dark and obsidian and stars start to dust the black canvas above.

Most of the times you're alone throughout. Sometimes a person you've never met before, with a nondescript face wearing an orange vest will walk up to you and ask you what you are doing. You'll tell them that you're waiting and when they ask you for what and who, you'll shake your head not giving an answer.

You never tell them. Because like a birthday wish, you're always worried that if you tell someone, your wish won't come true.

Lying in your bedroom now, the first of the morning sun is starting to spill through the blinds with a warm gentle glow that settles over the white sheets on the bed, dyeing it in amber.

You peer up at Santiago from where your head is resting on his chest, chin tucked into his clavicle.

He's here. 

He's actually here.

Your eyes roam over Santiago's face, over the golden skin that's baby-soft without a single blemish no matter how hard you try to find one. Soft plump lips most girls would die to for. Ink-black lashes so thick and long that sometimes you find yourself staring at him and wondering if they're fake. They have to be. His lashes flutter behind his shut eyes in his sleep, as if he sensed your thoughts from his sleep and decided to rub it in your face. You press your face back into the hollow of his neck, nose pressing up against the lazy pulse you feel there. 

He's here, the pulse reminds you as it beats faintly against your skin. Santiago is actually back. 

You clamp down your teeth on your lip, tampering down the jolt of giddiness that rushes to your head at the thought. It's hard to stay still, excitement is vibrating inside your bones and wants to burst out of your skin. If it wasn't for Frankie's grounding weight pressed warm against your back, caging you in, you're not sure you wouldn't be floating off the mattress. 

Taking a long deep breath, you try to calm so you don't wake either of them. Maybe you can even try to fall back asleep and catch a little bit more sleep.

But no, that's not happening this morning. Your brain is too wired. You haven't even had coffee, yet you feel like you've had a dozen of espresso shots injected straight into your bloodstream, ready to run a marathon with the energy dancing in your nerves. 

Santiago is here... in your home... in your bed... with you and Frankie.

He was gone for two whole years and didn't come home once. The only thing that let you know he wasn't buried six feet under in a nameless desert half across the world somewhere were a handful of calls, infrequent texts that were weeks apart and hastily written postcards that arrived in the mail. In all that time, you haven't caught so much as a glimpse of his infuriating, beautiful face.

And now he's here, has been here for the last two weeks. 

You don't know how you managed this. To capture Santiago Garcia, in your bed that first morning when he came to visit. Or how you managed the even more impressive feat to have him not bolt barefeet to Tampa airport that very same afternoon when the three of you'd woken up together half-naked tangled in bed. 

Your fingers linger over the pulse of his throat, trying to check and  make sure to yourself that he's real. 

And he is. Warm and soft under your fingertips. Your lips tug into a dopey smile, and Santiago stirs from under you, voice groggy with sleep as he grunts quietly. It takes you a second to register that the garbled sound muffled against his pillow are words. You just can't make out what he's saying. 

"What was that?" you ask. 

His head lifts just slightly from the pillow. "Said go back to sleep." Then he drops himself back down with a soft thud. "Too early," he mumbles, with an exasperated tone in his voice. Those soft riotous curls of his spill across the pillow.

Gorgeous, ridiculously pretty bastard.

Your fingers draw down until you meet the familiar golden chain resting there. The gold glistens against the sun, and you trace the length of it from the back of his neck to his chest, until you reach the end where the pendant, the shape of half a heart cracked in half, rests.

You snort with a laugh.

It's been a hot minute since you've last seen this hideous thing. He usually tucks it inside his shirt, hidden from plain sight.

It's one of those ugly and cheap BFF necklaces that were all the rage in the 90's and 20's that one could buy from any strip mall in America. You'd know, because that's where you bought it from, the one down the road from your first apartment, some ten years ago.

Holding the half golden heart, between your thumb and index finger, you smile. It is a heinously ugly thing adorned with a gaudy pink rhinestone to boot. You'd really taken your time that day to pick the most obnoxiously offensive option you could find, hadn't you?

For all the grouching Santiago did when you had given it to him, all the griping about how "eye-gougingly ugly” it was, how much he "hates it", how he was "going to throw it into the Pacific where it can't do more harm" -- somehow all these years later, it still hangs around his neck. It just has a bit of wear and tear now, polished from use where it rubs against the collar of his shirt, to the point where the lettered inscription of 'BE FRIE' stacked on top of each other is barely legible anymore.

Older than a decade, this beaten up necklace, and he's still wearing it, on his feet and always running somewhere all this time.

"You have terrible taste you know," his sleep-rasped voice comes from above. He's got one eye cracked half open as he peers down on you, as if the room is too bright at this early hour for him. 

His gaze on you is warm, and your chest flutters pleasantly, but you can't resist responding to his snarky comment with one of your own the way that you two always do.  

"It was a very heartfelt gift from me to you, Santiago. Don't be an ungrateful brat."

He hums, the tone of it still marred with sleep as he speaks. "If it's such a heartfelt gift, why do I never see you wearing your half." 

"Are you fucking kidding me," you snort, as you lift your head from his chest to lean up closer to his face, "I wouldn't be caught dead with that ugly thing." 

Both his eyes shoot open with a pout and his put out expression, has you wheezing with laughter. You clamp your hands over your mouth and nose, trying to suppress the noise so you won't wake Frankie. But god, it's impossible. Because the more you laugh the more offended he looks, and that's even funnier and it's a self-perpetual cycle of laughter that doesn't end. 

You drop your head back down to his chest, burying your face there as you shake with laughter, trying to muffle the sound. 

"Are you done?" Santiago asks with that trademark sarcasm, but the fondness creeping into his tone is unmistakable. 

Pressing your lips together, you breathe in a long inhale through your noise to calm your laughter before you tip your head back up. Santiago is smiling at you, eyes squinted and softly crinkling and at the sight of him, whatever remaining laughter you had dies in your throat. 

Heart-stoppingly pretty, that's what he is. 

His hand comes to cup the back of your neck and he pulls you down to his lips. A soft tender press that ends much too quickly, before he lets you go, smiling wider than ever up at you. It's a little bit embarrassing how dumbstruck that one barely-there kiss gets you. You have no witty retort for him, just stare back at him mouth open and speechless. 

"I get to do this now, right?" he asks with that warm ever present smile.  

It takes your brain more than a few seconds to re-calibrate, to take in and process his question and the full depth of the bizarre but welcomed new reality that is going to unfold for the three of you. 

The three of you have stepped into unknown territory that none of you can take back. It's something you've known since that first morning at the breakfast table. 

If something goes wrong, if you screw this up, if Frankie pushes him too far and Santiago cuts and runs, he's going to be gone for much longer than two years.

As well as you know Santiago after all these years, you know that if something goes wrong this time around, he's probably never going to come back again.

That should scare you. That alone should be plenty of reason to stop this. But you don't. You drop down your head again to recapture his mouth with yours. His hand comes up to cup your cheeks and it has your face tingling with heat.  

His thumb smooths over your cheek, pressing gently as he tilts your face to an angle where he can kiss you deeper, and you know without an ounce of doubt in you that it's a risk worth taking, because, holy fucking shit, you're kissing Santiago.  

It's messy and slow. Santiago is too sleepy at this early hour to master his usual coordination and you're brimming with too much energy jumping under your skin to follow his lead and pace, but you try. 

Soft, sweet. Hard, then needy. You let him slide his tongue against yours, as you wrap your legs as best as you can around his waist while lying sideways, grinding against the warmth of his torso. It's messy, and a bit uncoordinated in the best of ways. Santiago's hands are holding you close, one hand firm on the back of your neck, the other curled around your waist.  

It's still early, and everything around you is wrapped in that morning haze of soft sunlight and morning quiet. The only sound you hear is the rustle of sheets and Santiago's subdued low moan against your lips. 

His hands on your neck and waist doesn't move, the firm grip, holding you steady and close to him. But you can feel a wide palm, warm and calloused slide against the slope of your stomach. It drags slowly downwards, the rough skin rasping against yours until the hand cups the apex of your thighs over your panties and presses down. White heat sparks along the length of your legs and you arch into the pleasant touch for more.  

It's all the encouragement needed. You can feel those dexterous fingers slip inside the trim of the cotton fabric, coating the wetness already there, before pushing inside of you. It's blinding. Sharp electric pleasure that sears into your skin. Those curling fingers, slides deeper finding that perfect place with practiced ease and no hesitation and aching heat sparks along your entire back. 

It's so fucking good. You don't understand how Santiago can do that. Know your body this intimately when he's never been with you like this before. You moan into his mouth at the sensation, pushing back with the bend of your back until you meet the insistent firm hardness pushing urgently against the small of your back.  

There's a rasped groan, low and heated in your ear. Soft lips and the slight rasp of a patchy beard dragging against the back of your neck that is so familiarly pleasant. 

You open your eyes to the sight of Santiago's hand bridging across your jaw and cheek; then eye his hand that is still on your waist; you follow the line of the third hand buried between your legs, before you finally connect the dots.

There's only ever been one man in your life who knows your body inside out and can make you feel this good, this fast: Your husband.

It's not Santiago's hand.

It's Frankie's. 

Frankie with his thick and practiced fingers curled deep inside, that has you moaning and writhing, it's embarrassing really that you're so far gone that it took you this long to realize it.

Santiago pulls away just far enough to let out a chuckle against your lips with a smirk. "Morning, Frank, did we wake you up?" 

There's a soft hum that reverberates against the skin on your throat as Frankie's presses open mouthed kisses there, the scrape of his beard making everything tingle. "Mmm," he murmurs, the soft brass reaching into the core of your chest and drips warm and molten. "You two weren't being very quiet." 

His fingers curl and press, nudging that perfect blissful spot until you arch back against him. You don't know how long he's been awake. But Frankie's fully hard already. The outline of his heavy cock, push against your back like it's trying to make a permanent indentation on your spine and you can feel it twitching and jerking eagerly against you. 

"Sorry 'bout that, Fish," Santiago says, but there's nothing in his expression that says he’s contrite about it at all, cocky and brash as always. His lack of remorse is pretty clear to Frankie as well, because your husband chuckles softly, the breathiness of it skittering up along the nape of your neck. 

"You don't look very sorry, Pope," he presses another kiss to your skin, "don't worry about it. There are worse ways to wake up."

The heel of his broad hand presses down on your clit, and sharp electricity jolts through you as you spasm in Frankie’s arms. Your fingers dig into the firm muscles of his forearms, but he doesn't stop.

"Shit baby, you're so fucking wet already," Frankie murmurs in your ear, and leaves an indulgent kiss to your temple. 

In front of you, the cocky expression in Santiago's fades, mouth dropping slightly open as he just stares at you and Frankie. 

That's another achievement you have to note down in your list of unbelievable feats you never thought in a million years you'd achieve with Santiago: Making the man speechless. 

"Wanna see?" Frankie asks. 

At the question Santiago swallows and you can see his Adam's apple bob in that graceful throat. He's more nervous than you'd thought he'd be. You've always imagined Santiago to be assured and confident in bed. 

From all accounts and reports you've had from friends in common and even exes he's stayed friends with, that's always paired up with what you'd imagined and you never had reasons to believe otherwise. But your first time together, not two weeks ago as he'd watched you and Frankie together in this very bed. he'd been hesitant. Careful to not overstep with Frankie and you. He was unsure of himself in a way that through all your years of friendship he's never been. 

And right now as he's staring up at you and Frankie with wide and eager eyes, that same hesitancy is etched in every line of his face. You're not sure why that is. Until two weeks ago, being naked in bed with Santiago is not a situation in all your years of friendship you've ever found yourself with Santiago before. You don't know if he's just worried about fucking things up with you or if something else. All you know is that you hate that expression on him.

You want to grab his face between your hands and kiss him hard until you can wipe it clean from his face, until there's not a trace of hesitation left on him when it comes to the three of you. 

Frankie must read your mind, because even without an answer from Santiago he's already slotting his knee between your legs. Then he easily spreads them apart, "Let me show Santiago, baby."  

You think he means he's going to show Santiago how easily he makes you fall apart in his hands. But instead his fingers slip out of you, leaving an aching emptiness as your pussy squeezes down and flutters at the loss. 

He draws two fingers in front of yours and Santiago's face, your glistening slickness coating them to the knuckles.

"See that Santiago?" he says, with a goading tone, as he pulls his two fingers slowly apart and you see the silvery thread connecting the tip of his fingers. "See how wet you made her?"

That seems to have been the right thing to say. The hesitation in Santiago's face is replaced with a determination as he leans forward. You think he's going to kiss you again, and for the second time in less than a minute you're proven wrong again. Because Santiago's hand leaves your waist and circles around Frankie's wrist, pulling them to his mouth as he wraps his lips around those thick fingers, and sucks. 

Your brain stalls out at the sight. Tongue heavy and dry in your mouth as you watch Santiago’s throat work and his tongue lap up every trace of you from your husband's fingers. 

"Fuck," Frankie utters, and the only thing you can do is agree. Fuck, indeed. 

Santiago barely has the chance to pull his lips from Frankie's fingers, before you're already reaching forward. Your hand grabs at the back of his neck and pull, until those gorgeous lips are back on yours and you lick your own taste from his bottom lip. 

It's still messy, but it's not slow this time. You kiss Santiago deep and hungry, trying to make good on your intention to permanently wipe out any hesitation in him he might ever have. You can't be sure you've succeeded, but his hand does come to your waist, grabbing on tight as he pulls you close, angling your mouth to lick deeper into your mouth. Confident and committed, you can't taste any hesitation on him. 

You grind up against him, rubbing yourself desperately against his torso, until you can feel the hardness that meets you there, pressing against your lower stomach. 

"Fuck," Santiago gasps out between your lips, as he pulls back to catch his breath. "shit," he swears again, eyes darting down between your bodies to where his cock is straining against the fabric of his underwear, pulling it taut like the seams are about to rip from its stitches. 

The tip of his tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip as he looks up hungrily at you. 

You both know what he wants, because fuck you want it too. 

But he doesn't say anything. Doesn't make any move to touch you. Instead, there it is again, that painful hesitation bleeding back into his face. 

You know why it's there. 

This would be your first time together. 

Silly as it might seem, technically, that morning two weeks ago, doesn't count as sex. Frankie, your husband, fucked you. Santiago watched.

Not that a handy and fingering isn't crossing a barrier for your friendship, but this would be something else entirely. It's crossing a canyon and Santiago is peering down from the edge of the cliff and hesitating. And you don't know what to tell him to make him reach through that barrier. 

"Santiago," Frankie's voice breaks through the stalemate.

From behind you, his arm reaches out, wedging between your bodies, to push down Santiago's underwear with an impatience and aggression that's entirely uncharacteristic of your patient husband. 

But you know why. He wants Santiago to cross the damn canyon already, because part of Frankie's still scared that Santiago is going to get cold feet and run away again. 

And Frankie is tired of waiting.

So Frankie is pushing, and goading and leading Santiago along the edge. Hell if Frankie had his way he'd be shoving Santiago off of it. 

It speaks to the difference in your friendship you both have with the same man. Where Frankie keeps pushing to make sure Santiago doesn't chicken out and run the other way, you pull Santiago back, making sure he doesn't fall right off.

Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek, pulling his eyes to yours. "You ready Santiago?" 

His eyes focus, with a solemn pause that tells you he's really considering your question. As if he's hearing a thousand layers to your simple one, and needs to consider each implication.

But then finally, he gives you a slow nod. "Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs as he rests his hand on top of one of yours and drags it to his mouth and kisses the palm of it. "Yeah I'm ready now." 

His hand draws down between his legs as he pulls the boxers the rest of the way, kicking them off, to reveal his flushed and hardened cock pressing eagerly against his stomach. 

Your tongue feels dry even as your mouth floods with saliva at the sight of it and for all the blood that is roaring in your ears with excitement, blocking your hearing, you think you can hear Frankie groan from behind you. Can feel the eager weight of his cock twitch and jerk against the small of your back, dripping and smearing precome along your skin.

Fuck, fuuuck that's-- you're aching between your thighs, feeling much too empty in this second as you watch Santiago's hand grips the base of his cock and positioning himself against your entrance. Everything in you tingles with adrenaline, then he meets your gaze steadily, before pushing in. 

The first slide of Santiago inside of you is perfect. Thick and filling, and with every inch of advance, you think you're going to go blind from the pleasure that fills you. 

You didn't know it'd be like this.

Slow and careful, wide adoring eyes the way he's always looked at you when you were both in the same room. It's overwhelming, to have him this way. Your chest feels ripe and overfilled, the pleasure swirling warm and heavy in your belly, until you don't know if you can take anymore and not fall apart somehow.

Your hand grips onto Frankie's strong arms caged at your side, moaning and whining, and your husband hushes you comfortingly. "Shh baby, doing so good. You look so good taking Santiago's cock like this."

There's another choked sob, and you think it's from you at first, until you feel the way Santiago shakes against you. "Fuck, Frank." 

He sounds breathless and out of it, eyes dazed, as he continues to push forward, the very last bit, until he's buried deep inside you as deep as he can be. 

It's heaven, and you both moan in unison at the deep pressure. 

“Does that feel good baby? You like having Santiago’s pretty cock inside you?” Frankie asks, lips pressing softly against the side of your temple and you nod in response with a whimpering keen. 

Santiago pulls his hips away from you with a slow and sinful drag of his cock inside you. Searing pleasure swims across every one of your nerves, wild and demanding. 

Your hands flies up and clamps over your mouth, trying to keep in the scream that wants to erupt from your chest, because fuck it feels too good. Too much. LIke it's not even real. 

Frankie's hand comes up to your forehead, brushing an errant lock of hair out of your face. You're so grateful for his sturdy presence and touch. Because if he wasn't keeping you grounded to the here and now, encouraging you and Santiago both, in his raspy sleep-thick voice about how pretty you both look, you think you might have lost consciousness and blacked out from how surreal this all feels. 

"How you doing there, Pope?" Frankie asks with a hint of amusement in his voice as Santiago's eyes squeeze shut, brows knitted in concentration.

He can't answer Frankie with words, just lets out a strained breathless moan before he finally manages a nod. He seems lost and overwhelmed, taking another pause of a second as if he needs one because this is all so much. Then he finally, slowly pushes back inside again. A long measured stroke that fills you all the way before he withdraws again, leaving you empty, only to fill you up again, and again, and again, until you're both losing your mind from it.

Santiago's hand slams down against the mattress, holding himself steady as he stills, half-way inside. He's breathing heavily, with a pinched expression as he rests his forehead against yours. 

You can see he's overwhelmed. Can see he's holding on by a thread. But you can't help the neediness that burns thick and addictive in your veins for him, squirming as you try to get more of him inside you. But Santiago isn't obliging you in this instance. 

Instead, it's Frankie's deep voice that comes to your help. "Want him deeper? Want me to help querida? Have him fill you all the way up?"

You nod eagerly, and you don't have to wait long before Frankie reaches an arm across the both of you, settling his grip on top of Santiago's hip and pulls him deeper into you. 

There's a shattered and wrecked groan from Santiago, a noise that's been ripped from his very lungs, like he wasn't prepared for it, as his cock pushes its way deep into you. It breaks into a ragged sob, as he tries to catch his breath, but he doesn't get any reprieve. 

Frankie's hand is already pushing his hips away from yours, until only the tip of Santiago's cock rests inside of you, and then he does it again. Pulling the man's hips forward, using Santiago to fuck you at a pace of his liking. 

And god, it's good, it's so fucking good it has tears sting sharp in the corner of your eyes. The blinding heat from before, simmering hot and insistent in your veins, molten and sweet, as you wrap your arms around Santiago's neck and hold on. 

Maybe it's because Santiago had the cards stacked against him from the start, barely half awake before he found himself in this position. Maybe it's the relentless, unforgiving pace that Frankie has set for him, not allowing him to stop even as he's practically whimpering out choked breaths. But you can see that Santiago is unraveling. His curls are a wild mess against the crown of his head. Jaw tense, and eyes rolling back to the back of his head. 

His hand shoots out, clutches and digs into Frankie's arm, fingers curling into the strained bicep with enough force that Santiago goes white-knuckled. His eyes fly open, and there's a pained look in his face, brows pinched in distress with a pleading look for Frankie to ease up on him. Without a single spoken word, you both know that he's close.

Your hand reaches across his cheek, to soothe but it only seems to make things worse because the tense muscle in his jaw tics at your touch. "It's ok Santiago, come. I want you to come."

He doesn't answer you, just squeezes his eyes tightly shut as if he's trying to block out your very voice.

"Santiago," you try again, but there's nothing. He doesn't move, doesn't open his eyes. Just stays there, deep inside you, to your frustration, as he struggles to keep his breathing under control.

You try to squirm against him to no avail, and you decide to hedge your bets. If Santiago won't respond, your husband will. Frankie always indulges you and succumbs to your whims, always spoils you. You roll your hips, angling your back until you feel the heavy and hard weight of him press deeper into your flesh. Until you hear him groan with a low rasp in your ear.

But Frankie isn't moving either. Hips still, pressed firmly against your back.

Shit, shit shit shit, you want more. Need more. Want every inch of Santiago buried deep inside as he thrusts into you, hard and demanding until you can feel him spill every drop he has to give inside you. Want Frankie to hold you down as Santiago fucks his cock into you, until you're pressed so hard into the mattress they will have to dig you out with a shovel after.

You try to arch your back again, to goad Frankie, but this time his hands move down to your waist to keep you still. Frustration burns bright under your skin at being denied. You don't think this has ever happened to you before with Frankie. Have never had him deny you in any shape or form.

But fine, if Frankie's not going to help you. You'll help yourself. With neither of the men, responding to your coaxing, the only thing you can do is take matters into your own hands. Reaching across, you drag your hand over Santiago's hips, resting your palms over the round perfect curve of his ass, the way Frankie had earlier. Then you pull him closer to you, flush to your hips as deep as he goes. That one single thrust is enough, his eyes burst open, dark and wide with in startled shock, and something vulnerable within, and you already feel the way him twitching and—

Santiago sobs, actually sobs. "No, no no. not yet," his voice is strained and tortured, cracking at the edges, as he pleads with you, "Sweetheart please, just—I need—"

Those gorgeous eyes of his flicker away from yours in panic, looking past you. "Please," he pleads again.

He's not asking you anymore, he's asking Frankie.

There's a pause and a silence, and as you stare up at Santiago, there's a conversation with no words exchanged between him and Frankie that you are not privy to.

An unbreakable bond between the two men that had been forged in foreign countries you've never stepped a foot in.

Before you can dwell on it, before you can try to interpret and translate what is being said in the silence, Frankie's hand moves from your waist, joining your hand that's resting on Santiago. Then he's lacing his fingers with yours and pulls your hand away. He pulls you back from Santiago.

You whine at the loss, at the torturous drag of Santiago's cock leaving you empty and aching.

"Fran--" you start to protest, but you never get to finish, you can already feel him, hot and heavy pressed against your slick folds as Frankie presses in from behind you and you blank out. His name on your tongue dies on the tip of your tongue. The oxygen in your lungs extinguished as he thrusts into you. Air rushes out of you with no space for anything else but his fat cock. Every single thought is lost at the perfect pressure of his cock inside you, how Frankie completely fills all of you and so much more.

Then Frankie slides out of you, in a sweet and achingly slow slide. His pace is almost lazy, as if he's trying to drag it out to buy Santiago some time.

Your eyes flutter open to see those gorgeous familiar brown eyes of Santiago's staring at you wide-eyed, pupils blown as he bites his lower lip.

You eye Santiago's cock, where it's pressed against your stomach. It's flushed and twitching, shining slick and glistening with your wetness and the precome that's steadily dripping down the head, leaking what must be a comparable mess to the one Frankie's made of your back.

There's a gentle but insistent pressure against the inside of your thighs, nudging them to widen. Then Frankie's gravelly voice brushes hot in your ear, "Baby, spread your legs, just like this okay, so Santiago can see better." 

You comply, moving under Santiago's unwavering gaze. There's a heavy weight to it, to be pinned under Santiago's attention in this way. Comforting and intimidating and oh so addictive all at once. You felt it two weeks ago, as he was watching you swallow down your husband's cock. Felt it when Frankie's face was buried between your thighs. It should feel lewd and dirty, something out of a ridiculous dear penthouse letter, but it doesn't.

Because it's not about getting your rocks off to a stranger in a dirty bathroom stall. Santiago doesn't look at you like a dirty John at a peep show. There's too much history between the three of you for that. Too much love spoken and unspoken in every glance, and every touch he wants to reach out for but doesn't. Too many goodbyes and not enough welcome backs.

All you want is to bridge that gap that still exists between you.

From behind, Frankie's snapping his hips up and into you, and his cock hits something shattering. You swear it fills you so fucking deep from this new angle, there's no more space inside you, not even space for oxygen in your lungs. It's a sensation enough to make you lightheaded, as Frankie fucks into you, thorough and demanding, as he opens you up on his thick cock, and that familiar tingle on your spine sparks in alarm to warn you that you're going to come.

And Frankie knows it too. His voice is in your ear, low and gravelly, “You want to give the first one to Santiago, baby?”

It simmers insistently inside. Sweet heady pleasure that is about to crack and fracture across your veins. You're trying to say yes, but Frankie's not stopping, his cock dragging slick and hard inside you, robbing you of any words. “You want that, baby? Let him feel your perfect pussy come around his cock?”

You open your eyes to look at Santiago (and fuck you don't even remember closing them again). The man seems more out of it than you are. Eyes glazed, and lost, with a look in his eyes like he wants to reach out but isn't. Like he's standing on the precipice of a cliff, looking down at the abyss.

You want to reach out and hold him. Want to lace your fingers together and tell him it's okay.

You don't have to. Frankie's reaching over from behind you, one strong and sturdy hand cupping over the back of Santiago's neck. He's pulling him closer until the whole of Santiago's torso is pressed along every inch of yours from your knees to your chest. Until you're compressed between the two men with not an inch of a crevice of space between. Then Frankie leans over your shoulder, pressing his lips to Santiago's.

All you can hear is the slick sound of their mouths, the wet slide of their tongues meeting, and the gentle dreamy hum from Santiago as Frankie moans into his mouth. Then Frankie's quiet, gentle voice. “You ready to go again Santiago?”

You can't see it, but you can feel Santiago nod. It's all that's needed before Frankie slides you off. You don't even get the chance to properly mourn the loss of Frankie's cock inside of you, because before you've even taken a single breath Santiago is already there. Hand wrapped tight around the girth of himself as he's pressing up against your dripping and slick cunt in a slow, easy slide until you've taken every inch down to the root of him. Pressing forward, until all of him, as far as he can go, is inside of you and both of you sigh with relief at the pressure and weight of him inside you.

His forehead rests against yours, and he smiles at you and it's fucking everything. It doesn't matter that he's done this a million times. Doesn't matter that his smiles are nothing rare in all your years of friendship. It's different now, and he knows it too.

This is a gentle smile, not the rakishly charming one he reserves for the gorgeous women he meets at an nondescript bar, 60 seconds before he walks out with them on his arm. Not the smug "I told you so" grin he wears when he knows he has won one over you. Just a simple smile on his lips as he looks into your eyes. Right now, he sees you in a way that Santiago only does. A smile that was reserved for just you and no other women or men. This smile is yours.

It's a promise that he'd always come back to you, no matter how far he went or how long he was gone for.

A smile worth standing alone in an abandoned field for as long as it takes.

You feel dopey and content, head buzzing with endorphins as you stare up at him. You love him. You love him so much you feel stupid, and you don't know how to tell him.

And maybe you don't need to.

He moves, long, drawn out strokes as he pushes his cock inside and there it is again, your orgasm flickering awake as it licks up your spine with its adamant presence. You don't last long.

Your toes curl into the sheet, hand grappling for something to hold onto, until you feel the familiar warmth and weight of Frankie's arms wrapped around you. "Right here, baby. I'm right here."

Maybe it should feel strange. Maybe it should feel wrong. To have your husband hold you in his arms while you're about to come on your best friend's cock. The same man that your husband has been in love with for as long as you've known him.

But it doesn't. What has always felt wrong was the wait. What was wrong was not having Santiago in your bed. Not having this man right next to the both of you in your lives together of supposed married bliss. It's why no matter how many rooms you donned up and filled up with furniture and trinkets and photos and memories, it always felt empty.

A space that would never be filled until Santiago came home to you both.

"It's okay, go ahead and come," Frankie whispers.

And fuck, with your husband's loving voice in your ear, you do.

It's consuming, streaks out in pulse after pulse across your nerves as the pleasure fills along every nerve. From the tip of your nose, to the air in your lungs, down to the aching muscles of your calves. Your back arch, your mouth parted with a moan or a scream, you don't even know. All you know is that it's bliss rushing to your head and blots out everything else as you come on Santiago's cock.

You're surprised you can even hear sound, when Frankie's lips are pressed to your temple and that familiar voice rumbles across your skin, encouraging and sweet. “Doesn’t she feel good Santiago?” 

It's a bit distorted, too blissed out in your post-orgasmic bliss to understand what's being said even as you can hear Santiago's breathless voice and make out the words he's saying. “So good Frank", he moans, a strained, quiet little sound, "so fucking good. I think I’m losing my mind over it.” 

“Yeah I know the feeling.”

Santiago's still hard inside you, still thrusting slow and measured, to drag out your climax, even as you're coming down on him, but you don't even know where to fit the warm buzzing pleasure skittering across your skin as he bends down his head and presses adoring kisses to your lips and cheeks. “You feel so fucking good when you come on my cock, sweetheart.” 

You're so fucking out of it. Can barely hum in approval as you feel Santiago slip out of you and Frankie takes his place inside you. Gentle fingers come to your forehead, smoothing out the sweat-drenched locks. You don't know if it's Frankie or Santiago, but that's okay, because you don't think it matters.

Because he's here now. They both are.

“Let’s try to come together this time, okay baby?” Frankie asks and for the two of them, you do. 

--

You fall asleep after, tucked and nestled between the two men you love the most.

You dream of standing in a field. Sun set high across the azure blue sky, with not a plane in sight. Across the tarmac, there's a silhouette standing against the blaring sun. It doesn't matter that you can't see him against the blinding brightness. Your wait is over.

It's the last time you have this dream.

Dedication & Credits: To my prawn clown sister @thirstworldproblemss because she is the best and I looooooooove her the mooooose-test

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #santiago garcia #frankie morales #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #tiple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #homecoming #telltale heart asks

[ineedsleepsoleavemealone]

new idea: After Civil War, Natasha stays in Stark Tower with Tony. After she finds out that Spider-Man is a 15 yo after the homecoming incident, she and Tony kinda Co parent Peter. They kinda act like superhero godparents or something. Nat insists on giving Peter knives and training him, and Tony gives him PR advice and a science internship. After Aunt May finds out Peter is Spider-Man, Nat shamelessly flirts with her.

#fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #peter parker #spider man #tony stark #iron man #the avengers #avengers #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #black widow #spiderman homecoming #spider man homecoming #irondad #iron dad #iron dad and spider son #irondad and spiderson #Natasha Romanoff and Peter Parker would be absolute menaces together

[lnfours]

nonsense | t.h

summary -> inspired by ‘nonsense’ by sabrina carpenter. dedicated to @darling-im-wonderstruck and @kate-bishopss <3

au -> tom holland x singer!reader

wc -> 1.6k

warnings -> unedited, fluff, tom being bf material, a little bit of language and sexual innuendos

masterlist | listen

                        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you sighed softly as you sat in the interview chair, tapping your fingers against your leg as your hairstylist and makeup artist applied some last minute touches before the camera turned on.

your new single had been on top charts for the past couple months, your album was coming out in a few short weeks, a tour was on the agenda for later this year. everything felt like it was finally slotting into place.

your fans had shown an insane amount of support from the number of streams and pre-saves for your new music, everything career wise made you feel on top of the world.

personal life wise, not so much.

you had met tom awhile back, the two of you had instantly connected while he was filming the latest spider-man movie. you two had gone out on a couple dates, hooked up a few times, the usual.

he checked all the boxes. he was caring and sweet, he made you feel like a queen, and he made sure you knew just how special you were to him.

however, whenever he was around, you felt knots in your stomach. the nervousness would set in whenever he was near. whenever you talk, you’d feel like you were speaking nonsense. all the nervousness is what kept you from jumping into something with him, but he was adamant about waiting for you. he didn’t want anyone else but you.

he didn’t care if it made him sound desperate, didn’t care about the girls in his dms or the ones who would text him and ask if he was seeing anyone. he only wanted you.

the camera started rolling and the interviewer introduced herself, smiling to the camera before introducing you. you smiled and thanked her for having you on before she asked her first question.

“so, ‘nonsense’ has been a huge hit,” she started, “you sing some very, risqué, lyrics, while also talking about how this certain someone makes you feel. did you pull inspiration from real life to write this?”

you nodded, “yeah, i did. i mean, you know that feeling you get when you talk to your crush? the kind of feeling that makes your insides melt? that's kind of how i feel with this person, every time.”

she smiled, “do they know they make you feel that way?”

you nodded, letting out a soft chuckle, “they do, yeah.”

she continued with the next question, “so, fans have speculated that the song is about tom holland, and you guys have been spotted out and about over the past couple months. are they right?”

you shook your head, palms sweating as you thought out your answer, “they’re all so creative with their speculations, but no, it’s not. tom and i are just friends.”

she tilted her head, “really? i mean, so many people have put compilations together of the two of you together and it seems like there’s some real chemistry brewing there.”

you smiled politely, “yeah, no. he’s really sweet, but we’re just friends.”

you felt the knots in your stomach again as you talked about him. just the thought of him made your stomach erupt in butterflies, how were you supposed to be together?

the interview was over after some more questions about the album and tour. you walked back to the dressing room, grabbing your things. as you scrolled through the missed texts on your phone, only one stood out to you the most.

tom: you were great ❤️

you smiled softly, going to reply, but your thought were interrupted when your manager walked in the door.

“the cars here,” she smiled, “ready?”

you tucked your phone back into your purse, “yeah,”

you walked outside of the building, saying hi and greeting some fans who waited outside. you took pictures, signed autographs, but the only thing on your mind was that text.

you pulled your phone back out as you got into the car, the driver heading back to your apartment building.

y/n: thank you ❤️

your fingers hovered over the keyboard, contemplating sending what you were thinking. you didn't understand why you were so nervous around him, why everything he did made your heart race or why he made your tongue go numb like all of a sudden you’re speaking gibberish.

none of it made sense, but then again, did it really have to? wasn’t the whole point of falling in love with someone about risks and growing together?

it was, right?

wanna get dinner tonight?

you locked your phone as soon as the ‘read’ popped up at the bottom of your message. you nervously bounced your leg, trying to fight back the urge to say ‘never mind’ as you watched the city life outside the dark tinted window.

your phone buzzed twice in your hand and you hesitated before looking down at the message on your lockscreen.

thought you’d never ask

meet at your place around 7?

you smiled down at your phone, your manager looking over at you as she spoke up, “nice job dodging those questions about tom earlier. i know how important your private life is, we want to keep it that way.”

you nodded, typing back your response before looking back at her. desperately trying to steady your heartbeat.

sounds good, spider-boy ❤️

“yeah,” you sighed, “i mean its not like i completely lied to them. we are just friends.”

“friends who hook up and get dinner on sunset?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. you sighed as she giggled, “i mean, i know there’s something brewing, anyone with eyes does, but why wait?”

you shrugged, “he just makes me nervous, almost like he’s too good to be true.”

“for as long as i’ve known you, if anyone deserves the ‘it’s too good to be true’, it’s you.”

you nodded, a soft smile on your face as the driver pulled up in front of your apartment building. you said your goodbyes, heading into the building and making your way into the elevator. you sighed, pressing the button for your floor.

maybe she was right. she almost always was.

the next few hours felt like the longest ever as you got ready. your hair was still styled almost perfectly from before, you touched up your makeup, and slipped on one of your favorite dresses. you felt good, and you looked good.

you were in the bathroom, applying some lip gloss in the mirror when you heard the knock on the door. you ruffled your hair one last time before making your way down the stairs and to the door, the clicking of your heels echoing throughout the penthouse.

you opened the door, smiling as tom stood in a dress shirt and dress pants. his sunglasses pushed back the curls that would normally fall in front of his forehead.

he looked so damn good.

he could say the same about you, though. his eyes traveled down your body as soon as you opened the door. he smiled as he handed you the bouquet of flowers from his grasp.

you thanked him and let him inside. he closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen where you were adding the new bouquet to the vase on the island.

“you look gorgeous, love,” he smiled as he took your hand. you laughed as he spun you around in a small circle, pulling you into his chest.

the smell of his cologne was embedded in your brain. after many nights of rolling over and smelling it on the pillows on the other side of your bed, or on one of the blankets on the couch he claimed was his, it smelled familiar. the feeling it gave you almost felt like home.

“so do you,” you grinned, “where are you taking me tonight, holland?”

“mm,” he hummed, “i booked a reservation for that italian place you like.”

you felt your heartbeat quicken as his nose brushed up against yours, “the key to my heart.”

he laughed softly, “seems you figured out what the key to mine is.”

you sent him a questioning look, “what’s that?”

“writing a song about me,” he smiled, “or, as you say, ‘about you and me’.”

you let out a chuckle, “you listened to it?”

“of course,” he playfully rolled his eyes, “it’s an honor to have a pop hit written about me, y’know.”

you hit his arm playfully, “stop.”

“stop what?”

“being so,” you trailed off for a second, “perfect.”

“you deserve nothing less, y/n.”

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and if he wasn’t holding you by the waist, you probably would’ve toppled over.

“you just make me so nervous,” you breathed out, “i’ve never felt this way about anyone else before.”

he smiled, “me either,” you returned the smile, “i know i’ve said it before, but i want it all with you. all the nervous jitters, the pillow talks, the dancing in the kitchen, all of it.”

in that moment, you put your nerves aside and let yourself give in.

“i want it all with you, too,” you mumbled, leaning closer to his lips. he smiled against yours as he kissed you sweetly, the both of you pulling away and erupting into soft chuckles.

your laugh grew louder when he picked you up, ignoring your protesting as he started up the stairs to your bedroom.

“what about our dinner reservation?” you laughed, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants.

“you asked how quickly i can take my clothes off,” he said as he laid you down on your bed, “and there’s only one way to find out, love.”

                        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

💌 beings my tagged list has gotten so long that tumblr literally won't let me add it, the tagged list is temporarily closed until i can figure it out. in the meantime, be sure to follow and turn on notifications for @toms-gf to be notified whenever i post imagines :)

xoxo,

jordan <3

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #spiderman #spider-man #spider-man: homecoming #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland au #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader fluff #singer!reader #singer!au #the format might be shitty bc i uploaded it on mobile #oh well #idc #like #reblog #marvel #mcu #imagine #tholland imagines

[literallykenmaandshoyo]

What About Me?

Peter Parker x Female Reader!

Warnings: Angst. Reader is upset because Peter is off being busy as Spider-Man and he's stood her up one too many times for her liking

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: Guys this is my first Peter Parker drabble! YAY!~ I absolutely adore Peter and I wrote this one up earlier tonight and figured it'd be good to share! I hope you all love it, I'm so used to writing fluff that sometimes I forget that writing angst is really good too! Let me know if you have any feedback or requests by sending in an ask, and remember to request Mod Shoyo to be specific! Have a great night (Or morning) everyone!

Also, PicsArt doesn't have the same scrabble letter thingies that Kenma and I have been using for our headers so this one is just a major WTF. Sorry if this looks ugly lol :,)

~Mod Shoyo <3

Y/N sat by her bedroom window, overlooking all of Queens from the seventh floor of her apartment building. Night had fallen and the stars were out, all of the buildings nearby had some office lights still on, people were probably still working, even at this ungodly hour.

That’s one thing that they had in common with her boyfriend Peter.

Being a web-slinging superhero was definitely not on Y/N's list of why Peter Parker could be so distant and just vanish all the time. However, when they first officially started dating, Peter took it upon himself to lay out all of his cards for her right then and there. Y/N was more than understanding and he thanked God for her every single day. Y/N knew that she said she’d be okay with the late nights and the canceled plans, that she’d be up waiting for him during late hours of the night just to make sure he came home safe.

But there was only so much she could take.

She stared down at her text messages with Peter. She asked him if he wanted to come and stay over at her apartment tonight since she’d been missing him a little extra these past couple days. Not only has Tony been working him to the bone, but the crime percentages in Queens seem to have only elevated since Peter would be out all night stopping robberies, saving people from getting mugged or kidnapped, the whole shebang. 

I’ll swing over in 10 love <3 11:45 p.m

Y/N looked at the top of her screen and saw that it was 1:57 in the morning. She knew that she got herself into this and she told herself that every time that he was late or had to cancel on her. It wasn’t his fault. Peter was just doing his job, what he signed up to do, so she couldn’t be mad at him. But who could she get mad at?

She looked like a lovesick puppy, just waiting at her window to see the red and blue suit that her boyfriend wore to come swinging over to her building. Tears were streaming down her face and she was making herself more upset by crying over something like this. She grabbed her phone off the windowsill and turned it off, chucking it into a random corner of her room and lying in her bed. She got under her throw blanket on top of her covers and threw it over her head. Her sniffles and soft sobs weren’t loud enough to wake anyone, but a small part of her wished that Peter would walk in and hear how devastated she was.

Being Peter’s girlfriend was a blessing. It was something like a mantra that she told herself every single morning when she woke up. She wanted to be the one he came home to, the one that would make all of his cuts and bruises better after she cleaned him up, she wanted to be the last woman he would ever love in his life. She wanted to be his. Forever. But being in a relationship didn’t always mean that Peter was the one she fussed over all the time. She was entitled to her own feelings and how she felt, and right now, she was sick and tired of waiting up for Peter.

As if right on cue, her bedroom window slid open and in crawled Peter. He was panting, short of breath as soon as he ripped his mask off his face. “I’m so sorry love, there was this guy in an alleyway that wouldn’t leave this group of middle schoolers alone and he-”

Peter stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at Y/N's shaking figure under her throw blanket. He raised an eyebrow and walked over to the bed, his ears picking up on the sounds of her soft sniffles and hiccups. He pulled the blanket off her head and saw her laying in the fetal position. Her hair was covering the side of her face and he couldn’t really see her expression, but he knew that she was upset. Obviously.

“Baby,...” Peter pushed her hair behind her ear and could see her puffy eyes and red nose. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

Y/N sat up in bed and fixed her crazy hair, sniffling and wiping tears off of her cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt. She sputtered and tried to speak, but she didn’t even know what to tell him. Part of her wanted to be straight up and just tell him that this is the seventh time she’s been kept up waiting on him, but the other part of her knew it wasn’t his fault and that she was just upset because he’s been so busy. Just because she was always available for him, doesn’t mean that Peter was always at her dispense too, especially with what he does with his time.

“I…”

Peter waited for her to explain, but she just looked down at her lap and started to cry again. He felt awful and he was so clueless. He thought back to the last time she cried and remembered that she had lost a grandfather recently that she was close to. Maybe it was that. He grabbed her hand and held it in his tightly.

“Is this about your grandpa again, love?”

Y/N shook her head and pulled her hand away from his. Now Peter was really confused. He racked his brain trying to figure out what else it could be, but every single option he came up with just came to a dead end. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how hard he was trying to think, and she found it ironic. He was so intelligent, the smartest guy she’s ever known. Yet he’s so oblivious when it comes to the small things, she always thought that maybe his brain was so big, that the most simple of questions really took a couple of seconds for him to think about.

“I’m just tired, Peter.” She finally croaked.

Peter’s heart fell into his chest. His gaze met hers instantly and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He always thought about how Y/N never deserved to be with someone like him, not when he has the whole Spider-Man thing going for him. It’s unfair to her. And he always felt like one day she’d get tired of it all, but he was praying to God out of his own selfishness, that today was not that day.

“This…” She hiccuped. “This is the seventh time that I’ve stayed up past what we agreed to see each other at just to see if maybe you needed a little more time to come home.”

Now Peter understood. 

“You said you’d only be ten minutes at 11:45 and it's two in the morning now, Peter.” Peter looked down at her hands and noticed that they were trembling. “It’s been so hard for me these past couple times to just tell myself this is what I signed up for. But I miss you so much while you’re gone.”

She broke down in tears again, sobbing into her hands. Her sobs and her hiccups were muffled, but that only made them louder in Peter’s head. She was right, in every way imaginable. He hadn’t been much of a boyfriend recently, only texting her about how much he loved and missed her, sending her a quick selfie while he was mid-swing from one crime to the next. He couldn’t even imagine how lonely she must feel within those gaps of time that he wasn’t messaging her.

“Baby, I- I’m so sorry,” Peter cooed. “I know that I’ve been really busy recently, and I-I can’t even think about how lonely you must feel every single time I do this,”

Y/N looked up from her hands and wiped the snot that was running down her nose. She could barely keep her puffy eyes open enough to look at him.

“Don’t ever tell yourself that this is what you signed up for ever again.” Peter scolded. “I asked you to be my girlfriend because I knew in my heart that I was ready to be your boyfriend. And I still believe that. I haven’t been giving you the attention that you deserve and that’s completely on me. Okay?”

Y/N stayed quiet, staring at him with her bloodshot eyes and a quivering lip. The scary part was over. She was never good with calling people out and telling them how what they’re doing affects her. She’d rather just forgive them and never have to talk about it again. But then, when it happens again, she just puts herself through an endless cycle.

“I just miss you…” Y/N sobbed, wrapping her arms around Peter.

She dug her nose into the crook of his neck, bringing her hands up to the back of his head to feel his hair in between her fingers. When Peter hugged her back, her entire body relaxed and she just let him hold her while she cried into his suit. Peter was rubbing her back comfortingly, whispering sweet things into her ears in between pressing kisses to the top of her head and her temples.

“I’ll do better for you, baby. I promise, okay?”

Y/N nodded. 

Peter felt himself getting choked up the entire time Y/N was crying in front of him. The lump in the back of his throat was almost unbearable to push his spit past whenever he swallowed. He held Y/N in his arms for a while longer before finally taking his suit off and changing into some pajamas. He crawled into bed with Y/N and held her once more, the sound of her heart beat finally calming down bringing a soft smile to his face. He kissed the top of her head once more and closed his eyes.

That night, he made a promise to himself.

A promise that she was never going to feel like this ever again.

#marvel #x reader #female reader #marvel x reader #Spider-Man #tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #spider man homecoming #spider man far from home #spider man no way home #tom holland x reader #tom holland spider man #tom holland peter parker

[spacecowboysfrommars]

I am once again maladaptive daydreaming about an Irondad TV show that takes place in between Homecoming and Infinity War that shows the natural progression of their relationship, has Mac Gargan as the leading villain (just so the Homecoming credit scene ACTUALLY means something), and shows smaller moments that setup other things in the spidey sequels (Peter catching feelings for MJ, the moment Tony decides to give EDITH to Peter, etc).

We were ROBBED. That’s all I have to say.

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #irondad fanfiction #spider man homecoming #Spider-Man #iron man

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

as it was

pairing: peter parker x sister!reader

WC: 3K

warnings: small mentions of anxiety, maybe some cursing, just no way home angst. there is no physical description of reader, so you could read this as adopted!reader or however.

summary: you feel like there’s something missing from your life when may dies. you just aren’t sure what that thing is.

A/N: i started this april 11, 2022. something just came upon me to start writing for this draft again. i dont live in nyc so ignore all directions. my own gif (that’s why it’s shit)

@alecmores my editor💗

been in the drafts since march 25

masterlist

You were sitting in front of her grave.

The cold chill of New York winter settles into your bones. The trees were barren of any leaves with autumn having left a few weeks ago, no snowfall yet thankfully. The grass has been freshly cut along with some watering causing you to sit in a bit of wet grass, at least your coat was taking the moisture.

You brought some new flowers, just some simple white roses. The other flowers have been slowly wilting since your last visit, and you never want to have dead flowers resting with Aunt May’s grave.

As you replace the flora you sit back on the ground with the wilting stems staying in your hands to keep you from fidgeting around and picking the grass as you talk to her. You try to visit once a week, but sometimes you can only come twice a month because it will just hit you really hard one day that you have no one left, no immediate family anymore. The closest you have to any type of family is Happy Hogan, MJ, and Ned, which is kind of weird because when you think of your memories that involve the three of them, something is missing, a piece of a puzzle that won’t fit in its place.

“How are you today, may?” The wind just blows the hair around your face in different directions.

“I started to work at the Peter Pan cafe with MJ. Sometimes we have shifts together, but honestly, it’s kinda rare since it doesn’t get too busy there. The boss is an older man who’s lazy and has a snippy attitude for no reason, but it's an easy job. Don’t have to worry about my anxiety kicking in.” You stared down at your gloved-covered hands that clutched your crossed legs. Your lips rolled together as you let the silence cover you, thinking of what else to mention.

“Uh… Happy. Happy- he misses you, I miss you. He- uh… he took me in, unofficially adopted me. I’m thankful for him cause if I had to do all this- this, I don’t know, just I’m thankful he took pity on me and didn’t leave me to the wolves. MJ and Ned said they would’ve taken me in, but I think they just said it out of friendliness.” You shrugged your shoulders at the thought.

You perked your head up and glanced around the cemetery. Dozens of headstones, some having more grandeur stone carvings with angels or whatever. Fallen autumn leaves tumbled and kicked across the grass, sticking to trees or headstones before a breeze pushed them away and further off. It seemed you were the only person visiting a loved one at the moment, you wished someone accompanied you, but you liked being with May by yourself.

“Oh, uh, school. Probably want to know about school. I- I- I think I’m gonna take a gap year. Process and readjust to everything and I know if I was doing school I wouldn’t give my all and I don’t want to let you down. Plus, I need money and so I’ll probably need to work a few jobs- wanna help Happy with bills so he doesn’t feel stuck with me.”

A puff of air left your lips as you rubbed your arms up and down your biceps to get a good warmth back into your bones so you could stay longer. With a lick to your lips and a furrow to your brow, you hesitantly spoke a thought that’s been sitting on your tongue for a while, only feeling brave to speak them towards May.

“Ever since you- since you left… something has felt… off. I- I don’t even know what feels off, just that I’m missing something- someone in my life. But I don’t have anyone else. Mom and dad were gone too soon for me to remember their faces, Ben passed away a few years ago and then all I had was you. May... you’ve been my mom, you are my mom. And- and when the blip happened and we came back, that was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced. Feeling like you were gone for only a minute but then people are telling you that it’s been five years and half the population turned to dust… but you came back and I felt safe again. And we got back into some normal groove again. And then hearing that you got into an accident and were killed-” your throat started to choke with restrained tears, “I’ve never been more scared in my whole life.”

You let a cry free before pulling yourself back in, wanting to continue your rant, “but, what I’m trying to get at… something feels out of place. I feel like someone is missing from the giant picture, memories feel like they’ve been edited- cutting out that person from our life, my life. Memories with MJ and Ned feel weird, and memories with Happy feel weird as well. Like trying to think about how the two of you met… something is burned away. I- I don’t know, probably just trying to find something to focus on.”

Your eyes met the dark stone, the words May Parker engraved with her date of birth and death. Your shoulders sagged, you were just talking to air about a nagging thought. Should probably look into getting therapy.

“I should start heading back, Happy’s probably worried about me.” You dusted your jacket and pants clean of any grass, might have a few wet spots soaking the fabric.

You stuffed your hands into the jacket pockets and just stood, not making an effort to leave just yet. There was a crunching of leaves that soon filled the quiet and you didn’t think anything of it, it could have been another visitor or Happy who came to visit and take you home, which happened a few times already. But when you looked in your periphery, it wasn’t someone at another grave and it wasn’t Happy. It was a boy.

Out of curiosity, you turned your head enough to get a proper look at the new arrival. You eyed him from head to toe, never seeing him around before. He looked to be about your age, just a teenager. A beanie covered his head, he wore a blue puffer jacket with a few stripes at the top with simple jeans and sneakers, nothing standing out. But there was just something about him…

“How did you know May?” The mystery boy spoke. It took you off guard, “huh?” Was all that came out. He cleared his throat and jerked his chin, again, “how- uh- how did you know May?” He turned to you before turning away.

“Oh, she- she was my aunt. Well, my mom really. Lived with her when I was young.” You stopped there and it was silent. You counted to five before asking, “how did you know her? If I may ask?” Your manners popping in.

The boy was quiet, eyes set on her name. He sniffled then wet his lips, “feast. I knew her from feast. She was- she was nice, always kind to everyone. She was like the mother I never had. I’m glad you had her as family.” His voice cracked on the word family, something you noted but didn’t push for further.

“Yeah. She was always looking out for the little guys.” A smile to your lips. “Was it just the two of you?” The boy asked then backed tracked, “only if you feel comfortable saying. Sorry, it just- it just slipped.”

You looked at the boy. He wasn’t fidgeting, but you could tell from his eyes that he was nervous about something. Your eyes just wandered over him, sure it may seem rude but you couldn’t help it. It was like a magnet was pulling you and you couldn’t resist the hold it had on you. You thought about lying to this stranger, but you didn’t. “Yeah. Well, it wasn’t always just the two of us. She had a husband, his name was Ben, and he’s buried in his home state. But he got shot during a robbery about… a decade ago… blip time difference is weird.” You mumbled off, realizing he died five years ago for you but with your dusting, that added an extra five. The boy agreed with a light chuckle, it warmed you.

“What about you? Any family still with you?” Bouncing back on his question.

His eyes drooped a slight frown on his face, “uh…no. No family, just me.” His eyes caught yours before, once again, looking away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Oh! No, it’s- it’s fine. I was asking the questions first anyway.”

You rolled your lips as you swayed on your feet. Neither of you decided to speak, just stood beside each other as you stared at the headstone and listened to the leaves falling. You wanted to look at the boy again but withheld yourself from doing so.

“I should- I should head home. But it was nice to meet you…” you trailed off hoping he’ll present his name. “Peter… Peter Parker.” He held a smile at the last name.

“Huh, funny coincidence. I’m (Y/n), Parker obviously.” You bid Peter a smile goodbye and turned your back to make your walk to the subway.

“Hey! Uh (Y/n)!” You heard the shouts and the crunching of leaves beneath his feet as he hurried to catch up with you. You stopped your steps and looked at Peter as he stopped a few steps away.

“Do you… do you take the subway?” “Yeah…”

“Do you mind if I walk you? I just- I would just feel a lot better knowing you made it safely plus I think May would… sorry- sorry. Only if you want, of course, I mean you just met me and-“

You stepped closer and touched his arm, “hey, it’s fine. I would like the company. Plus, it’s just the subway, you’re not walking me to the front door.” You shrugged at the end before nodding your head to the iron gates.

-

The two of you traveled down the busy and packed streets of New York. Shifting and turning your bodies so you didn’t bump into anyone, especially someone who wasn’t in the right mood that day. The walking was quiet at first, two strangers who just met and didn’t know what boundaries were already drawn. You kept making glances at Peter beside you before looking away, at the sky or the buildings around you.

“Are you in school?” Peter was the first to ask, once again. You were thankful he took the first steps.

“Oh, well I’m eighteen so I’m about to graduate high school. And I was planning to go to college, out of state or in state, not sure. But after May… I’m taking a gap year. Want to get my bearings first before I focus back on school… How’s your academic future?” You eyed him as he watched you talk.

“Uh, well I’m eighteen as well. And something happened during the school year so I kinda have to start senior year over again. I was planning to go to MIT for college, but that’ll just have to wait.” He scratched his nose before stuffing his hand back into his jacket pocket.

“Another coincidence. Two of my friends are going.” You saw the smile Peter tried to hide from your comment.

“Do you have a job, Mr. Parker?” Already giving joking nicknames.

You didn’t notice the stiffness to his shoulders or the sadness that glazed over his eyes before stuttering, “uh, I’ve applied to a- a few different jobs. Kinda hard- not a high school graduate so my options are limited. Gotta look for the desperate places.”

“But those are kinda sketchy. Not the safest.”

His attention was on you, “yeah, well, I can handle myself.” He nudged your arm and pulled a smile from you as you shook your head. “What about you? Any sketchy jobs?”

“Not sketchy, just boring and quiet. I work at a small café with my friend. An easy job since I have anxiety.” You keep your answers vague with enough detail.

Silence came back around. Cars honking and people talking to each other or over the phone. Couples holding hands or looped around each other.

“Anyone special in your life?” Was your first question to come to mind.

You weren’t sure if the flush was due to the low temperature or the abrupt question towards Peter, who’s still a stranger, about if he was seeing someone.

“No, no. I- I had someone, but she left me. For the best, I think.”

“Why is that? Secretly with the mob or something?”

He laughed, “Nah, nothing like that. Just… I'm broken and a mess. Don’t want her dealing with… all that.” He made a circling hand gesture. You just hummed.

You weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings so you didn’t see the group of kids running and pushing into everyone coming your way. So with a tight hold on your bicep and a yank, you yelped and looked around. Peter pulled you behind him and you followed his eyes as you watched the kids pass as they shouted and yelled.

“Stupid kids.” You muttered before continuing your walk. “Thank you, for pulling me.” “Oh, it’s nothing.”

You were only a block or two away from a station.

“What about you?” “What about me?” “Anyone special?” He had a playful tone to his words. You just shrugged your shoulders.

“I’ve never been anyone’s first choice. I stick more to the shadows anyway, used to get bullied, so I keep my head down and mouth closed,” you looked to see if he was listening, and he was, “also, I’m kinda a hopeless romantic. Romance books, love songs; especially Taylor Swift's love songs, and a few rom-coms. Anyway, what I’m saying is that, no. No one special, probably not for a while. But maybe that’s okay, maybe I’ll find ‘the one’ when it’s time.”

Peter didn’t respond to your words. You smacked a hand over your face.

“What? What’s-“ “I just spilled my random thoughts to you, who’s still a stranger.”

You pulled your hand away and ran your fingers through your hair before moving it to your pocket for warmth. You looked at Peter and you were just full-on staring, eyes roving over his side profile or his face if he looked your way before facing forward. A tilt of your head came up.

“You know… maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.” You kept looking at Peter. “What wasn’t?” His eyes were on his feet.

“Meeting each other.” And you looked away just as Peter almost tried over his feet even as he watched every step. You kept walking, not aware of the cogs turning in Peter’s mind as he processed your words.

“What- What do you mean? How isn’t this a coincidence? I think it was just lucky timing.”

You threw a hand out as you talked, “What I mean is… maybe May sent you this way. Two people she knew and cared about, both lonely and without a family around. Plus come on, your last name is Parker. That's just crazy. I don’t know, just- it’s just crazy!”

You smiled at the boy as you crossed the street and walked down the crowded and smelly stairs leading to the subway. You checked to see if Peter was still with you and when you saw he was pushed back by a few people, you moved to the side and waited for him to meet your side. You flashed a smile when he reappeared and you both continued on your walk toward the entrances. You checked to see if any cops were around and seeing none you hopped over the spinning entrance, Peter a second behind.

“What train do you take?” “A train, you?” “F for me.”

You thought this meant that the two of you would split up, but Peter walked with you and stayed by your side as you waited for your train to arrive. You checked your pockets to make sure you had your phone, wallet, keys, and headphones, along with your taser and pepper spray that Happy bought for you. You texted Happy that you were waiting for your train and should be home within the hour.

After about thirty-five minutes you heard the screeching of wheels on tracks and saw the lights glow into the station. You turned to Peter with a smile, “well, looks like my ride's here.” He nodded at your words and he opened his mouth and then closed it. You stayed back seeing if he’ll say the words on his mind.

As the train got closer and he didn’t say anything you decided to be the first to speak. “Would it be okay if I get your number? I- I know we just met, but… you seem like a good friend.” You cringed a bit, it was almost like a terrible pickup line. And you weren’t hitting on him, it just felt gross to even think that.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d love to have a friend.” Peter stopped your worrying thoughts. You passed him your phone and then he passed it back before pulling his out and showing a text on his home screen.

You started towards the open doors and passed the rushing people and with a quick turn, you called out to Peter and he looked your way waiting to hear what you needed to say before you let the subway whisks you away.

“Stop by feast when you can. We can always use the extra hands and May would be thankful.” And before you got any reply you walked further into the metal tub and took a seat, sticking an earbud in and pressing play on an album you’ve had on repeat.

Already planning to visit May tomorrow after your morning shift to talk about your new friend. And Peter would keep watch from a distance and when you left he would speak with May quietly. Promising her that he’ll keep you safe and be your friend, maybe not your brother never again, only in his mind.

…

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x (y/n) #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x sister!reader #peter parker x sibling!reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #spider man homecoming #spider man far from home #spider man no way home #mcu reader insert #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #mcu #spider-man #spider-man imagine #spider-man fic #spider-man fluff #spider-man angst #spider-man x reader #spider-man x fem!reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine

[milady-pink]

Poor Spider-Man…

#marvel #tom holland #spider man #homecoming #far from home #no way home #peter parker #peter parker x reader #mj watson #mary jane watson #gwen stacy #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #andrew garfield #toby maguire #tumblr memes #marvel memes #funny post #miles morales #tom holland x reader #iron man #captain america #black widow #thor of asgard #thor ragnarok #hawkeye #scarlet witch #doctor strange

[astridhoff03]

Some cute Married/ Parents Hiccstrid Fluff I tought about in the natural sciences lesson. Enjoy the wholesomness of the Haddock Family!

"...And so Toothless and I saved the egg of the Dragon King," Hiccup proudly completed his story. Zephyr and Nuffink, both lying in their mother's arms, looked at their father with wide eyes. Astrid smiled lovingly at her husband, then turned to her children. "It's bedtime, rascals." "But I want to hear another story," Zephyr begged. "That was so great." Hiccup took his daughter in his arms and put her in her bed. “Tomorrow again, my darling. Promised. But you have to sleep now.” His little daughter nodded with a tired smile. He tucked Zephyr in as she snuggled into her pillows and kissed her goodnight on her forehead. He turned to his wife, who was giving her son his little dragon stuffed animal that looked like Toothless for him to cuddle with. He massaged her shoulders and leaned his head against hers and looked with her at their youngest child, who was now also snuggling into his warm pillows, holding Toothless cuddly toy tightly to him, his eyes almost closed. “I love you,” murmured the little one. Astrid and Hiccup exchanged a smile, then looked back at Nuffink's tired face. “We love you too, baby,” Astrid said and gave her son another kiss on the forehead. “Sleep well, little warrior.” Hiccup followed suit and briefly stroked Nuffink through his shaggy blonde hair. He watched as Astrid walked over to Zephyr, a few strands of her golden hair falling over her face as she leaned down and gave her daughter a kiss, who was already deep in her dreams. “And good night to you too, sweetheart.” She noticed her husband's loving look as he stroked her son's back for the last time, then stood up and held out his hand to her. Astrid placed hers in his, looking into his emerald green eyes that she loved so much. They linked their hands together and walked towards the door together. Before closing them, they smiled at each other once more as they looked at their two wonderful children. Hiccup put his hand around his wife's waist and the two went upstairs to their shared bedroom.

Astrid loosened both of her braids so that her long hair fell in soft waves over her narrow shoulders. Through the glass of her mirror she saw Hiccup pulling his light green shirt over his bare torso. The fine contours of his thin but muscular torso disappeared beneath the green fabric. Apparently he had noticed her look, he put his arms around her waist, he gently pushed her hair to the side and pressed a kiss to her neck. As a sign that he would wait for her in bed. Astrid felt his warm hands leave her again and he lay down in bed. She smoothed down her floor-length white nightgown and ran her hand over the small curve of her stomach. For a moment she was trapped in her thoughts. "Are you okay, Hon?" Hiccup asked. Astrid sighed heavily. "Yeah, everything's ok." Hiccup patted the empty, cold side of the bed next to him, where Astrid immediately sat down. She snuggled into his side and enjoyed the gentle touch of his hand on her stomach, giving her a loving kiss on the forehead, his other hand stroking her hair. "Don't worry, we'll manage, just as we've done everything so far." Astrid laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, drawing small circles on his upper body. "I know. When do you think we should tell Zephyr and Nuffink?" Hiccup hugged her tightly and leaned his head against hers. “Whenever you’re ready.” She smiled to herself, looking at the large window. Small white snowflakes trickled down behind the velvety black sky lit by the northern lights. “Mmmmmm. Maybe tomorrow.” “Tomorrow,” Hiccup repeated. “Yes, why not?” He nodded to her in agreement. "Good, then tomorrow." They gave each other a deep kiss on the mouth before snuggling up close to each other, Hiccup's hands around her stomach, in the warmth of their large bed. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “I love you too,” she whispered back.

#httyd #httyd fanfiction #soft hiccstrid #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid haddock #nuffink haddock #zephyr haddock #httyd homecoming #dreamworks animation #dreamworks #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #hiccstrid

[miela]

Shattered Memories • Chapter II: A Sense of Reunion • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: Fluffy (touches of angst, comedy and sexual tension if you squint) Chapter Warnings: None (?) Extra Content: added in another OC Masterlist

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

It was another boring weekend. 

Peter had just gotten home from his busy yet uneventful day at school, work, and visiting his Aunt May’s grave…his usual routine that hadn’t changed much in the past few years. After watching the Stark Expo a month ago he wasn’t really up for doing anything with his friends much. He spent most of his free time studying and patrolling as Spiderman to distract himself from his racing thoughts. He knew it wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world, but he really didn’t know how to deal with it.

It's not like he can tell them anything about what happened. They would probably think something is wrong with him. Imagine telling someone hey so I'm Spiderman and I really fucked up because I had to make everyone including the love of my life forget who I am because I got a sorcerer to cast to spell to save the multiverse from collapsing in on itself due to me trying to fix something that somehow I caused and five years later I see said love of my life thriving and living her best life and she has no idea who I am.

Kinda sucks to have no one to talk to about this.

He unlocked the door to his small apartment with his key and walked inside with a sigh of relief but as soon as he stepped into his humble abode. Home, sweet home. He thought to himself as he set his keys and backpack down on the raggedy chair that was by his door. All he could think about was what he was going to get for dinner, what movie he was going to watch, and what he would expect on patrols that night. 

But then his senses started to tingle.

The hairs on his body stood up. His senses quickly perked up and he looked towards the direction of the living room. The sense wasn't coming from outside or next door. It was coming from inside of his very apartment.

Just his luck. Somebody’s here.

His senses led him to quietly walk over to where the threat was in the living room. It wasn’t a sense he felt in a long time and honestly, he didn’t like that. It worried him. What if it was one of his enemies from his avenger days? What if it was somebody robbing him (not that there was much to steal)? His thoughts raced as he quietly tip-toed toward the living room. 

He quickly and quietly equipped his web shooters onto his wrists and stayed alert as he made his way around the corner. The closer he got the stronger his senses became… like they were pulling him towards the potential threat.

He hoped it was the neighbor's cat or something.

When he saw someone standing in his living room he didn’t even process who it was before he shot a web their way sticking their arm to the wall behind them with a thud. The figure yelped and looked at him with wide eyes. 

He froze when he saw who it was.

It was you.

Peter’s expression was one of a deer in headlights.

 “(Y/N)...” He said softly.

Peter could not believe his eyes as he took in your appearance. You looked absolutely gorgeous. You were still you but your features filled in the most beautiful way. Your hair was different than before, and you were wearing a face full of makeup and your style was a bit edgier than before but it wasn’t anything Peter was surprised by. You always talked about experimenting with your style and the aesthetic you rocked now made sense to him.

And you were here.

You wore a black sheer floral lace top with a black bralette underneath topped with a loose leather jacket, black fitted jeans with a black velvet belt with a golden lion head as the buckle, a a pair of black Doc Martens that he remembers Ghostface wearing in Scream VI when you two watched it together. He smiled when he saw them as he remembered how you and Celina bought them immediately after seeing the movie. You had golden rings of various sizes and styles on your fingers and your fingernails were painted a dark teal color that reflected gold. Your makeup was something Peter was not used to seeing on you. You had thick eyeliner on with a rustic color on your eyelids. Your lips were painted a warm rose color. 

You looked like a million dark lady bucks and it was messing with Peter’s head.

And you were here. In his shitty apartment. 

"First name basis already?” You asked, lifting your brows with a small smirk. “Wow, we’re moving so fast.”

Peter was so stunned that he couldn't move. He wanted to pinch himself and make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. He thought he was having an out-of-body experience.

“Hello,” you sang, waving a hand in the view of his vision. “Earth to Parker.”

“Huh? What?” he asked, shaking his head a little bit and coming back to reality. 

“Hi!” you chimed. “I asked if you could give me a hand,” You eyed your hand webbed to the wall.

“Oh…!” Peter exclaimed.  “Oh god I’m so sorry-!”

He took the webbing off and you rubbed your wrist in your hand gently. “Thank you.” 

“Sorry for that…” he said again and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

“Nah,” You said. “I came into your apartment like some creepy ass stalker or something. You really shouldn’t leave your window unlocked.”

Oh.

“No, yeah!” Peter started. “I mean….um….I just…” Peter struggled to find the right words as he simultaneously struggled to find the right way to react to you being here.

It reminded him of the first time Tony came to visit him. 

 “…W-what are you doing here?” was all he could muster up.

You smile softly and cocked your head to the side. Fuck, your smile. He missed your smile so much. 

“You’re Spiderman, right?”

Peter’s eyes went wide again and he blinked rapidly. “Uh…” 

You took out your phone and showed him a video from YouTube of Spiderman stopping a bus from hitting a child who ran into the street to grab a ball and then another video from TikTok of him helping a kitten down from a tree for another child. He looked from your phone screen to you. 

“That’s pretty impressive. I’m a big fan honestly.” You smiled. “And that doesn’t sound exactly appropriate after I just climbed into your window. I promise I’m not a parasocial boundary-breaking dickwad.”

“No, no…I know!” Peter replied quickly. “Uh…what makes you think I’m that guy? Isn’t he like a criminal or something?” His voice was more nervously high-pitched than he would like.

“You just webbed me to the wall.”

Peter facepalmed himself mentally. You Idiot.

“And don’t say some shit like ‘I make his web shooters’ or anything like that.” You added with a mocking deep voice on the web shooter bit. “You’re Spiderman.”

“...Yes,” Peter replied, deciding it was better not to fight it. 

You smiled and hummed in amusement and turned your head to the side again eyeing him up and down for a moment. Peter gave you a thin-lipped smile with no real emotion behind it. He was still unsure of how to respond to any of this. A big part of him knew that you didn’t remember him but a small part of him wished you did.

“Well,” you began. “I didn’t just come here to confirm your hero status. I wanted to make you an offer.”

“Oh? O-okay.”

“So, I was going through my father’s files for internships and scholarships and your name came up as an option. It says you wanted to go to MIT but you go to ESU, right?”

Peter nodded. “I do.”

“What changed your mind?”

"Well," Peter started. "I can't be the friendly neighborhood Spiderman when I'm not in the neighborhood."

You giggled. "Fair."

He missed the sound of your voice. It was music to his ears right now and he didn’t want you to stop talking but you guys looked at each other for a silent moment before you spoke again.

“Are you busy?” you asked him after a moment.

“Huh?” he responded. “Right now? Uh…n-no. Not at all,” He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“Are you sure?” You asked. “Usually you’re out patrolling around this time….Not that I would know that or anything! Why would I? I wouldn’t! Pfft…that’s why that’s why I asked if you were busy or not….heh….” 

Peter smiled softly to himself. You were keeping tabs on him. If it were anyone else it would’ve concerned him a big amount but it was you so he found it endearing….and it gave him hope. He was used to hearing about this behavior from you. When you both were bitten by the spider, you had discovered him on YouTube and watched all of his videos before you knew he was Peter Parker. He wasn’t gonna lie, it gave him a bit of an ego boost.

 “No, I’m not busy right now. I can patrol later.” 

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

You smiled bigger. “Great!” and walked towards the door. “You’re coming with me.”

"Oh, Wh…?" Peter blinked rapidly. "Wh-where are we going, exactly?"

"That's classified." 

Peter looked at you silently for a moment.

“You’ve been there before,” You replied, rolling your eyes playfully. “It will be in public, mostly. I’m not trying to kidnap you, Spidey.”

“The last time I went somewhere classified it nearly destroyed the entire universe,” he mumbled to himself.

“I’m not taking you to space or to some underground S.H.I.E.L.D. facility or some random place in the world to fight off bad guys, I promise, I just wanna show you the offer in person.” You explained. “On my dad’s iron grave.”

Peter decided to trust you on that and walked out of the apartment with you. He closed and locked his door and turned to you to be met with your gentle smile that he adored so much.

“(Y/N),” You started and held your hand out to him. “(Y/N) Stark.”

He knew that you knew that he knew who you were. He also knew that you knew who he was. But this was just part of your whimsical humor that he missed so much.

He looked at your hand for a moment and smiled softly. “Peter. Peter Parker.” He took it gently. 

And that is when he felt it. The feeling he hasn’t felt in so long. Most people would call it sparks, butterflies, vibrational attraction, whatever. But he knew better. He knew that it was different for you two. You had the same radioactive arachnid DNA running through your veins and from both of your research, it was like a magnet whenever you guys were near.

Pheromones.

He remembered the day you were in the lab studying and researching why you felt so…attracted to him and why it seemed to get stronger and stronger the more you guys spent together. It was different from crushing on each other. You wanted to know why you felt a gravitational pull towards each other that was different from what you felt from other people.

"Parker, I need your blood." You told him one day, in front of everyone at the Avenger’s compound.

"....Excuse me?" He asked, confused and his mouth full of a bite of his sandwich. 

"Oh god, she's morphing into an actual spider," Nat joked.

"Watch out, kid, she's gonna harvest you one day," Bucky added.

You gave them both a horrified look. "First of all, no. Second of all, hell no." You crossed your arms and stood in contrapposto. "It's for science, thank you very much."

"Oh yeah, sure, science," Sam smirked.

You rolled your eyes with a blush on your cheeks and turned to a still-confused Peter who was still paused mid-chew. 

"Relax," you said. "We were bitten by the same spider, right? I wanna see how it affects us differently."

“Oh!” He chimed. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that too! I think it’s totally unfair that you can spin your own webs naturally and I can’t so I wanna know what makes us different too.”

You both had gone into the lab and ran some tests with the help of Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner. That is how you found out about your differences as spider mutants and your connection.

Pheromonal Connection.

It was obvious that you felt it too because the expression on your face softened as your hands touched and eyes met. Your (E/C) eyes were looking into his dark brown eyes so deeply like you were trying to merge your thoughts together. 

Man, he wanted to kiss you so bad. Just like all those years ago. 

For a moment, Peter lost control and he began leaning in and you followed before you blinked rapidly and removed your hand from his to lay your hand on your forehead as you made a soft noise of pain with a wince and a hiss.

“Damn it…!” You hissed out softly.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Are you okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been fighting these stupid migraine episodes for most of my adulthood.”

Peter frowned as his face furrowed. You saw his expression and you smiled softly.

“Stark Stress.” You explained with a shrug and a lopsided grin and a small roll of your eyes like it was no big deal. “I’ve been Owner and CEO of Stark Industries officially for two months and everything and everyone is taking years off of my lifespan.”

Peter chuckled at that. “I’ll bet. Do you need any meds before we go?”

“Nah, thank you though.” You smiled. “No type of medicine can get rid of annoyance.”

Peter hummed in response and you both walked down and out of the apartment complex. There was a black large luxury SUV with a stoic-faced man standing with his hands folded in front of him. He had dark sunglasses on but Peter could tell he was looking at him suspiciously.

He recognized him as Happy Hogan. 

What you didn’t know is that they knew each other already from visiting Aunt May’s grave. They had run into each other over the years visiting the cemetery. 

“Hey,” Peter said and waved to him but Happy didn’t respond and just kept looking at him through his dark shades. It made Peter a little uneasy. 

You let out a deep sigh. “Okay, Cobra Bubbles, you can stop staring him down now.” You said to him. “He’s just a friend of mine.”

Just a friend. Oh, if only you knew.

Peter wanted to laugh at your sarcasm but kept his composure. Happy opened the door for both of you. You climbed inside and Peter followed you after avoiding Happy’s not-so-happy gaze and giving a soft thanks to him. The interior of the SUV was set up like a limo with seats that faced each other. You sat on one end and Peter sat on the other end. As Happy got into the car and began driving you two looked at each other. 

“So where are we heading?” Peter asked again hoping to get some clarity.

“Midtown Manhattan,” you replied as you grabbed an icepack from a cooler compartment that Peter hadn’t noticed until now. You put the ice pack on your forehead. 

He realized where you were taking him. “We’re going to the tower.”

“Bingo,” you sang. “I couldn’t tell you inside your apartment. You never know who’s listening. And the car is soundproof. Not Even Happy can hear us right now.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at you as if to ask ‘Oh really?’

“Head out of the gutter, Parker,” you smirked. “That’s not the reason why I made it soundproof, but let me know if you ever need to borrow it. Just make sure you don’t make a mess.”

“Oh my god,” Peter chuckled. “No, god no.”

Not unless it’s with you. He thought, but even then he wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing Happy of all people would be the one driving.

The rest of the ride was pretty chill. You asked him about school and he answered honestly.

Once you both arrive at the tower you walk inside where employees instantly begin greeting you as you walk by. Peter hadn’t been inside the tower in so long that he forgot what it looked like. It was busier than he remembered but that makes sense since so many years have passed since he's been here last. 

A girl with flaming reddish-orange hair, freckles dancing across her cheeks and nose and bright eyes came rushing up to you with a frantic look in her doe-eyes. "Miss Stark!" She exclaimed in a soft voice as she tried to keep up with you two.

You sighed. "Nika, I told you to call me (Y/N), ‘Miss Stark’ makes me sound scary."

"It makes you sound like the powerful CEO of this very distinguished company," the redhead corrected. "But I need you to confirm the list of foundations that are going to be present at the charity gala next month."

You groaned. "Nika, it's my day off."

"Yes, yes, I know," she replied with a sigh. "But you, the owner of the company, which means you don’t actually get a day off, especially right now. This event was your idea, (Y/N).”

“Yes, I know, I know,” You sighed as you arrived by the Elevators. “I’ll look over it tonight.”

Nika gave you a warning look and then looked to Peter giving him a one-over with her eyes. She didn’t look impressed or amused. 

“I better have it by seven. Or else I’ll make up for your incompetence and...distractions” She didn’t take her hard, glaring eyes off of Peter once, but he was addressing you. 

“Nika,” you said in a warning voice. “Stand down. He’s not a distraction. He’s an Avenger. He’s here on Business, not pleasure.”

“I thought it was your day off,” Her eyes flashed back to you. 

You pressed your lips together before speaking. “Nika, I'll have the list for you by seven.”

Nika smiled with no real emotion behind it. “Good girl, enjoy your day off.” 

And with that, she walked off. Peter looked at you in shock. 

“She’s a friend of mine and she takes her job very, very seriously,” you explain as you two stepped on the elevator. 

“I don’t think she likes me very much.” Peter rubbed the back of his head. 

“Not true,” you defended as you put your eye up to the scanner and a green bar that flashed ‘Access Granted’ with your ID information appeared on the screen. “She doesn’t like distractions.”

“So, I’m a distraction?”

“Nah,” you replied, shaking your head and leaning on the wall of the elevator with your arms crossed and one leg crossed over the other. “That’s unless you want to be.”

You both eyed each other as you both dodged the elephant in the room that eludes to the earlier events right outside of his apartment door. Peter wished he knew what you were thinking at this moment because he knew what he was thinking. He desperately wanted to feel you under his hands as he felt his lips dance with yours. He wondered if you had a similar thought. 

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. 

Peter cleared his throat and flickered his eyes away from you. “Ladies first.”

You blinked rapidly as you looked away from him took a deep breath and walked off of the platform. 

Peter, he had to compose himself, and little did he know that you did too.

Once you both walked off and maneuvered around the familiar place, you led him to a conference room that looked very similar to the one at the Avenger’s compound. Peter looked around for a moment before you stopped in your tracks.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest,” you stated.

Peter looked over at you wondrously as he tensed lightly. His senses didn’t sense danger but for some reason, he felt nervous all of a sudden. You turned to him with an expression that he couldn’t read, but your word wasn’t something he was prepared for.

“Peter,” you spoke again. “I know who you are.” 

He looked at you as he could have sworn his heart stopped. “What?” His voice was almost a whisper.

“I know who you are.”

~

Tags: @riordanness

#peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x stark!reader #spiderman #tom holland #peter parker #marvel #mcu #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman homecoming #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #mcu marvel avengers #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #mcu peter x reader #mcu peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction

[astroboots]

SEX, LIES AND VIDEOTAPES

Summary: Santiago and you make a sextape for Frankie.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you) (hints of Frankie)

Content: edging (you know the drill with this bastard by now), peak brat behaviour, overstimulation, voyeurism.

Wordcount: 5.9k words

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It starts the way so many things start between you and Santiago. It was a stupid idea, and Santiago talked you into it.

"Do you want to make a sex tape?"

You blink dumbly at Santiago, mouth agape. Your phone screen is still warm against your thumb from when you clicked the red button to end your call with Frankie not two seconds ago.

Your husband is out of town in Jacksonville, in a shitty hotel room they've set him up with, 10 minutes off base. Poor Frankie had sounded absolutely miserable when you spoke to him on the phone and the idea of sending him something to perk him up, a flirty text to rile him up, maybe a risque photo did cross your mind but a sex tape might be a little bit out of your depth.

You stare up at Santiago. His beautiful full lips, curling into a smile, eyes glinting with that trademark mischief that is the prelude for talking you into doing pretty much anything for him.

It's been that way since you were kids. There's never been one of Santiago's cockamamie plan that he hasn't managed to get you signed onto. Sweet smile and even sweeter talk. Car salesmen have nothing on Santiago.

“Frankie must be feeling lonely by himself in that hotel, we should send him something to make him feel less lonely," he says.

Santiago leans down, until his arms are caging you in, face close until the tip of his nose brushes against your cheeks, and that small contact makes you tingle all over.

“You miss him too right?”

Despite the self-satisfied smirk there, the sentiment is sincere. Still, you've never been one to make things easy for Santiago either.

"Santiago. I'm not Kim Kardashian. Don't be ridiculous."

He tips his head, considering you, and Santiago clearly hears the word that you did not say. You didn't say no. You prevaricated the way you often do when it's not that you don't want to: you like to needle him, for him to plead and ask nicely. For Santiago to pull out the red carpet treatment.

"How pretty do I have to ask?" he says, smiling wider than ever.

That is how you find yourself in your bedroom, not twenty minutes later. Wearing old sweatpants and one of Frankie's softworn T-shirts that you've spilled some soy and Sriracha sauce on earlier at lunch. It is, singlehandedly the worst outfit to memorialize on tape.

You tell Santiago as much, but he just sits you down on the mattress, ignoring that sentiment entirely with a half distracted, “don’t be ridiculous, that horny freak gets off on you wearing his ugly-looking clothes.”

Snorting with laughter, you sit down obediently as instructed because Santiago does make a valid point.

In front of you, Santiago is moving diagonally from the nightstand next to the bed to the footstool by the end of the bed, rearranging the furniture in the bedroom that would be "blocking the view," like he's playing furniture Tetris.

Then he comes back to stand in front of you, practically bouncing at the ball of his heels with excitement. You can feel the eagerness vibrate off of him, as he rolls ups his sleeves to his forearms. Eyes lighting up with that proud accomplished smile of his that makes butterflies swirl in your belly.

"You ready sweetheart?" he asks.

You shake your head amused, as you place your phone in Santiago's hand so that he can use it to record.

His smile drops, and it's like you've thrown a dark curtain over him, the luminous light in his eyes dimming, narrowing at the item in his hand, as if it's offended him, curled in half disgust.

"Phone?"

He says it with such indignity in his voice, it's as if you insulted his late mother by this very act.

"What's wrong with my phone?" you ask.

And boy do you immediately regret ever saying it. It launches Santiago into a game of twenty questions. Because suddenly, he's decided that he's the next Stanley Kubrick of homemade sex video tapes.

"Don’t we have something better?"

"Can't you go get Frankie's Go-Pro camera?"

"Don't you at least have a tripod?"

"How are we gonna get a good angle?"

"Is it okay if I move the reading lamp from the living room here to get better lighting?"

It would be childish to roll your eyes, but Santiago-Maria Luca Hernandez Garcia makes it really fucking hard not to sometimes. For someone who's never been able to properly frame himself in a selfie, he sure is high and mighty about his artistic camera skills all of a sudden. He only capitulates when you counter that a sex tape shot on a Go-Pro is a terrible idea. Nobody wants to watch themselves naked through a wide-angle lens.

This is so quintessential Santiago. He gets an idea into his head and will use every tool in his arsenal to convince you that his idea is a brilliant one. Then, once he has worn you out with his persuasion, and has you (begrudgingly) onboard, he will start bitching about every detail of the itinerary as if this wasn’t his project to begin with. You truly pity the people who had to be on his team for a group project back in school (which was almost always inevitably you).

It's enough to make you regret this whole endeavor before you've ever even started.

As you see him drag the armchair in the corner in front of the foot of the bed, and gingerly prop the phone against a cushion, the ridiculousness of this whole scenario washes over you. You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry at the sheer stupidity that you’ve signed yourself up to.

Santiago fiddles with the phone on the chair, and you see him angling it until he's satisfied that it captures you in frame before he leans back up.

The tiny lens flickers red then green, and the bright light has you flashing hot then cold then hot all over again. Your nerves suddenly a lot shakier than they were just a few seconds ago when you were bantering with the man.

Staring at yourself framed within your phone screen, you feel observed, in a way that shakes your own confidence.

Your heart skips erratically and you remind yourself mentally that, it's fine, it’s just you and Santiago in here. But there's heat prickling your face. Your fingers feel numb, sweating hot and cold at the same time and you find yourself clenching and unclenching your fists into the sheets to get some sort of sensation back into your hands.

“Do you want to stop?”

There’s concern etched on the soft lines of his forehead, one finger already hovering over the stop button. Ready to give you an out, if you didn’t want this.

And it’s not that you don’t want to do this. It's just--

You shake your head. “No… Just--” You let out a stuttering laugh, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. They’re shaky.

“You nervous?”

You hadn’t realized until he said it, but yes, you are. You give him a small nod, and he moves towards you, until he's sitting at the end of the bed next to you, and takes both your trembling hands in his, drawing them to his lap, and rubs them like he's trying to kindle a fire with your fingers.

The nerves in you melt, air flowing back into your lungs, and you can feel yourself warm pleasantly out to your fingertips.

"That better cariño?"

His voice is nothing like the teasing arrogance when he had tried to talk you into this in the first place. Nothing like the haughty banter when he had been going off about lighting and camera equipment. It's soft and gentle, a voice that tells you he's going to pick you right up if you stumble.

You nod again, releasing the long breath you've been holding all this time.

“Santiago, this is really stupid.”

He chuckles, a bright little sound that’s entirely too boyish coming from a man nearing the end of his thirties, with pepper and salt scattered over his five o clock shadow. It’s what makes it all the more endearing.

“That’s okay,” he says.

He leans closer to you, until he's mouthing the line of your jaw with his soft kisses. Lips moulding over yours, as he playfully nips at your bottom lip. Then he leans even closer, pushing, until the firm weight of his chest has you flat against the mattress and you're willingly pinned down underneath those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“You make me do real stupid shit too," he tells you.

Your head turns to the side, and you look at the bright lens of your phone staring blankly back at you.

Your face must look pudgy from this angle. Shit, you're not even wearing make up. Did you even properly brush your hair? This is so stupid.

“Don’t think of the camera,” Santiago tells you, pressing a succinct kiss to your lips. “Just focus on me, sweetheart.”

His hand comes to rest on your cheek and he guides you back to his lips, obscuring your line of sight. It's like you have Santiago-blinders on and all you can see is him.

Soft and steady, his hands skim down the sides of your ribs, sliding up the hem of your shirt before his fingertips is brushing up against your bare skin. It tingles, warmth spreading up your spine as Santiago, slowly drags up the fabric up and over the swell of your breasts. Exposing your naked skin to the colder temperature of the room, soothing you with his warm mouth as he presses it up along every inch of skin that is bared to him. Up, up, up, until he pulls the shirt off you completely, until all you're left is in your plain panties, while he is still fully dressed, and he grins down at you.

"Good?" he asks, and you nod back at him as he leans back to pull up his shirt and evens out the playing field for you.

One large hand rests flat against the inside of your thighs, and that helps, the comforting presence of him as he squeezes down firmly with just the right pressure that has tension melting out of you.

Santiago has beautiful hands really. His fingers are long and nimble. In another lifetime, one where his right hand weren't littered with scars left from four different fractures and calluses forged in live gunfire, one could have easily mistaken him for being a classically trained pianist with hands like that. Fingers that playfully flit across your goosebumped skin. Fingers that slide down your hips, along the plump flesh of the inside of your thighs before dipping inside, circling your clit.

You arch and buck into him, keen and writhing. At the first touch of him, he touches just the right note and everything goes blissfully silent in your head. You forget about the camera, forget about any qualms you had.

He goes slow.

Patient, might not be the word to describe Santiago, but he is taking his time. Letting his lips cover, nip and lick down every inch of you as they press downwards from the collar of your neck to the soft slope of your stomach, until you can feel the pleasant scratch of his afternoon stubble graze along the soft skin of your legs.

"Spread your legs for me, cariño," he murmurs as he presses his lips there until you oblige him, and do.

Both his hand comes to rest at your knees, hooking them over his shoulders. Anticipation beats hard beneath your chest.

He's so close to where you need him. Nose practically touching your clit, and you can feel your slick drip down and out of you. Your fingers clutch at the quilts underneath you, waiting, and still there's nothing.

Opening your eyes, you dip down your eyes to Santiago nestled between your legs to see what the hold up is. Then you see it, Santiago, grinning with a sly look into the camera.

"She's so pretty and wet, Frank," he murmurs, as his fingers spread your wet folds wide for himself.

Insufferable brat.

You cant your hips with an impatient scolding whine, "Santiago."

He chuckles, and shifts between your legs, "Sorry cariño, will get right on it. Just got distracted for a bit."

His head leans down again, then all you see is his curls, loose and wild at the top of his head, before you feel his tongue touching down. A long thorough lick that has heat crackling through your veins.

It’s nice and slow, agonizingly so. Different, from what you’re used to. Frankie gets lost in it—in you. Hungry, sloppy and messy in the best of ways. That brilliant, clever brain of his turns off and it’s like the only thing left that he’s able to focus on in this new world of his is to taste you and have you, free of rhyme and reason, acting on instincts alone, guided only by the vibrations of your body and the moans you make.

Santiago is the opposite of that. 

His tongue is more deliberate. Like he’s trying to learn every one of your responses and sear them into his memory. 

Long and graceful fingers, exploratory, like he's trying to map out every inch of you to make sure that there's no territory that's been missed.

Intentional.

Precise and measured.

Santiago is a man who plans every step ahead. Every touch, every whisper, every tantalizing lick. It's in the way he keeps his hands steady underneath your back when your legs start to strain from pushing up towards his mouth. The way he was wearing your favorite red shirt that sits just a little bit too tight on his chest. The way he knew exactly where to drag your armchair to ensure that the angle of the camera would be right.

And as you think it, you realize that even though he brought up the sex tape as an innocent spur-of-the-moment suggestion, the bastard's thought of this way before Frankie had called to check in today.

Fuck, he's played you.

His tongue curls against your clit, flicking up and white sizzling heat spears through your stomach. You gasp, mind wiped clean of thoughts as your fingers curl into his hair.

Fuck, fuck, what were you thinking?

You’re a twitching, aching mess for him. Thighs pressed tight to his ears, as you can feel the tingling heat that starts from your core that spreads outwards and surrounds you in a devastatingly familiar way.

His tongue is a languid, slick slide against your clit. Fingers gracefully coaxing you until you're right where he wants you to be— that pinpoint edge of a slow burning ache that spreads across the entire base of your spine until your legs start to shake in that tell-tale sign of your orgasm.

“Fuck— Santiago, I’m—” you warn, but you can’t even make out complete words to finish your sentence, just indignant whines and sobs that should be shameful but you’re too far gone to care.

Because you’re almost there, so close you can feel it from the tingling sensation that reaches all the way from the very tip of your ears to the curl of your toes—how close you are to coming on that man’s tongue, and then— then— he stops.

He does not let you come.

It takes you a second, maybe two, for your brain to even fully register what has taken place. You rise up on your elbows, to stare down between your legs, where Santiago framed between your thighs, gazing back up at you. Lips curved upwards with amused mischief. Not a grin, no—that bastard is smiling at you, warm and sweet like he hasn’t done anything wrong at all.

“What are you—” you start.

“Not much of a sex tape if we don’t put on a show, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to protest, to give him the tongue lashing of his fucking life. But his fingers curl inside you, brushing against something devastatingly good. Your head drops back against the pillow with a thud, back arching away from your mattress and into his fingers, trying to have more of him, as he is rubbing against that deep spot that is blinding.

White, blistering heat spears through you that have you forgetting all about your indignant anger, have you forgetting what he did and fuck—makes you forget about your own fucking name for a second.

“Fuck, that’s such a pretty sound,” he says, voice feverish and rasped, “You think you can do that for me again?”

You groan impatiently, and Santiago's still smiling up at you, deep dimples burrowing into his cheek. It doesn’t matter that there are greys that are starting to skirt around his temples, or that wrinkles are crinkling in the corner of his eyes. He lights up boyishly, and all at once, you realize that —fuck, it’s embarrassing how much you’re a complete goner for this man.

The things you let him talk you into; the things you let him get away with. The things he’s doing to you right now: clever fingers rubbing-curling-pressing at that perfect place inside of you as he lowers his mouth to you again, his heated gaze never leaving yours.

The tingling heat is back, resuming its outward spread along your trembling limbs. A delicious pressure that builds and builds, more oppressive than last time under Santiago's skilled tongue and even more skillful fingers until you can’t think at all. Until all you can do is to rock your hips up against the heat of his mouth, gasping out his name. You reach out for him, your fingers sliding into his hair of their own volition to tangle and tug him even closer, pressing his face to your aching center.

Santiago doesn’t seem to mind at all. He just huffs out a sound that’s a half laugh, half groan and keeps kissing and pressing and teasing with that very same planned precision that is leading you ever closer to the edge of orgasm.

And then --of course-- he stops again.

An inhuman-sounding noise fills the walls. It takes you a moment before you register, it's coming from you.

"Shh, shh" he hushes, "it's ok sweetheart, you're okay."

Which is utter bullshit, your legs are trembling against the mattress, sweat dripping down your collarbone and you can't feel your toes. You're anything but okay.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this. You know that?” Santiago says.

"I hate you."

He's laughing again, no scratch that, giggling, that bright boyish sound that has a kaleidoscope of butterflies skittering in your stomach even though you're mad enough to kill him.

"No you don't," he rebuts confidently, as he presses his palm flat against your stomach. "You don't hate me, because I'm making you feel good, aren't I sweetheart? Why don't you tell Frankie how good you feel,” he murmurs, and then you feel his tongue press a slow lick inside you.

You don't get a word out, just a high-pitched breathless sound, as you spread your legs wider for him, as if the events from seconds ago had been erased from your mind by the pleasure that floods over you. Letting bygones be bygones, so long as his tongue never stopped. Sweet little circles, his thumb rubs into your hipbone as he gets you closer and closer to where you want to go. He leads you there, with his tongue and fingers, the soft curls bouncing on his forehead tickling against your stomach, until your orgasm is so close you can touch it with your fingertips.

So close you can see it, specks of white behind your eyelids, as you are whimpering out his name.

Then he stops.

He leaves you there suspended. Toeing the edge of a drop, right before a jump, and doesn’t let you go.

You want to scream. You're so close, your body is doing the screaming for you. Thighs aching and burning, tears stinging behind your eyes.

“Nonooo, fuck, Santiago, don’t sto—”

“Ask me nicely, Cariño.” Santiago's mouth is still pressed against your slick core, and you can feel the warm breath of his words against your folds as he says it. It makes you shiver at the sensation. “Ask me nicely, and I'll let you come. I promise.”

You open your eyes, with a sob, as you look down at him. Those gorgeous brown eyes, expecting his usual grin and bravado. Except it's not there, replaced by an intent that burns through your stomach, staring back at you in challenge: Beg.

You won’t, and it’s not just because if you gave in the man’s ego would be large enough to develop its own gravitational pull until it collapsed the very sun itself with it.

It's because you can't let him win.

The two of you have always had this strange competitive relationship. When he pushes you have to pull him back. Because if you give Santiago an inch he gets ahead of himself and will try to take a whole continent. You have to reel him back, and in the end if you’re lucky, he only goes for a mile. Still close enough that he’s not out of your sight. It’s what you’ve always done. It’s why the two of you work.

So of course you can’t beg. That’s just fucking ridiculous, to roll over and present your belly in defeat, to give in to this beautiful bastard is unthinkable to you.

You don’t beg, biting down your bottom lip to physically restrain yourself in your weakest moments when his tongue melts you. Don't beg when his fingers undoes you, unwinding the knot of heat that is blossoming in the depth of your belly, warm and achingly sweet.

You feel drunk on sensation, overstimulated by Santiago's tongue and mouth, as he latches his mouth on your clit again. You're not so sure about anything anymore. Don't know how long you've been here, how long he's done this, brought you to the precipice only to stop and start all over again.

It must be the fourth? Fifth time? Of having been led so close to your release with his tongue, only for him to slow down his strokes. To have his infuriating mouth, move away, and leave a trail of wet, soft kisses against the line of your inner thighs instead. To have him waiting until he knows you’ve climbed down from the very edge of a peak he’s held your hand and led you up to. After all of that, everything becomes a bit foggy and hazy.

It's not that you forfeit as such, you just can't remember doing it — can't remember asking him. But somewhere along the line, you let out a shaky, “ple-please” punctuated with a hiccuping sob.

He smiles.

“There we go. That’s all I wanted. All you needed to do is ask, sweetheart."

There’s an insufferable grin this time as you look down between your thighs. That diamond-cut jawline, belonging to the golden era of Hollywood is now glistening with your slick. He licks his lips like he’s tasting the remnants of something sweet and appetizing that he doesn’t want to go to waste.

After that first defeat, it gets easier. You can’t believe how easy it is as you start pleading and begging. Can barely believe that’s what you’re doing even as you hear your own voice all wanton and needy doing exactly that.

Santiago raises himself to kneel over your spread legs. His fingers are wrapped tight around the base of his cock, stroking himself languidly as he looks down on you.

"Frankie's right, you really are such a good girl, sweetheart. Look at you beg all sweet and nicely. Should I reward you?"

Your eyes are so dazed you’re unable to focus—everything’s a blur. You wonder what you must look like right now. How debauched of an image you must make for the camera— for your husband. Legs spread, slick and dripping, head thrown back, mouth slack and open.

“Please just— Fuck, Santiago, please. Please, I need to come.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your thighs, warm and sturdy as he draws them up and spreads them.

For all the frustration you should feel at him for taking things this far. For being such an absolute little shit, all you can feel as he pulls you further down the bed until your legs are locked around his waist (right where you two belong), is warmth and relief.

Santiago leans down until his forehead is pressed against yours, grounding you. The contrast between what he’s done— teased and edged, unwound you until you’ve lost any sense of time or thread of your surroundings; and what he’s doing to you right now in this moment—mouthing loving praises against every inch of your skin he can reach with the gentlest care— it tears you apart.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he tells you, his warm hands resting on your inner thigh as he spreads it further apart and crawls up your body to settle between them. “So perfect. Always are.”

Your eyes are drawn to his cock, how it’s proudly jutting between his legs as he strokes it, flushed and dripping with precome from the lack of touch and neglect.

It's only then it hits you, how Santiago has been neglecting his own pleasure throughout. Only focusing on giving you yours.

It’s ridiculous really, how your heartbeat quickens when he’s pressed up against your slick cunt, how needy you are when you feel the blunt hardness of him.

His hands wrap around the thick girth, and then he pushes inside you with his cock.

Fuck you might almost come from that first blissful stroke alone. He nudges insistently against something ruinous inside you that makes your vision whiten. You can't even make any noises, because all the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs. God, why didn’t you beg sooner if this was the prize he was willing to give you.

Santiago's moaning too. Low and gravelly and it’s such a beautiful sound that makes your chest draw tight. Then he rocks his hips into you, a deep and impatient thrust, not holding back. You drown in it. The lack of restraint and how he’s finally giving you what you’ve wanted for so long.

He's close. You grip onto his curls, tightly until it must sting. Just the way you know he likes it from all the time you’ve seen how fast it makes him come when Frankie does it to him, and Santiago groans, hips stuttering into you.

You’re so fucking close, and you tell him exactly that. Confesses it between gasps and heaving sobs. All you want is for him to fuck you harder and deeper, to make you come.

"Please, Santiago, please just—."

The molten heat blossoms and spreads from the base of your spine, upwards, and you're almost there. So full with the sensation that you think you’re going to burst out of yourself along the seams of your skin. You’re close, so close. Heat crackling along every inch of you and—

And then Santiago fucking pulls out.

You must be screaming at him. Want to claw and dig into the man’s curly hair and tear it out by the roots. Curse him to the depths of fucking hell while you’re at it.

But Santiago pulls you up until you're kneeling upright by the edge of the bed. He's murmuring sweet apologies into your ear as he mouths and kisses your neck.

For all the physical anger in you, your body is not pairing up with your brain, because the touch of him lingers with a pleasant tingle. You keen through sobs even as you’re uttering every curse that’s left in your presently limited vocabulary.

His arms wrap tightly around your front, shushing you and it almost sounds sincere if you didn’t know him as well as you do. "Not teasing, cariño, promise."

You don’t buy that, don't buy that for shit. But it doesn't matter if you do or don't, Santiago's hands are already moving to your hips, lining himself up from behind you, his front pressed up against your back.

"I just want Frankie to see you when you come," he murmurs into your ear. His fingers curl gently over the edge of your jaw, turning it so you’re facing straight away from him. “See that?”

Your vision is blurred and it takes you several moments before you’re able to blink and focus on the scene ahead of you. Your phone that’s pointed accusingly at your naked body.

Exhausted, limbs weak to your side like a spent rag doll, with only Santiago propping you up from where your back is pressed against his firm chest.

"I want you to think about it, cariño,” his warm lips are pressed to your ear, a low raspy caress in your core. “Think about Frankie watching this where he is.”

You whimper. Images of Frankie with his large hands and thick fingers, wrapped around his cock burning vividly behind your closed eyes.

You feel the length of Santiago drag against your folds, gathering the wetness that's just dripping onto his cock.

“Think about how he’ll be touching himself in that hotel room. About him watching this and seeing my cock stretch out this perfect pussy."

Then he's pressing inside you again. His palms slide from your breast to your stomach, the rough callouses catching against your heated skin, down and lower. Until you feel his fingers skate across your navel. There's a tingling sensation there until his hands come to the front, cupping your pussy, his fingers gliding over your wet slick clit, over and over. The entirety of your spine burns.

The inevitable steady climb of your orgasm builds and builds and builds after having been denied so many times.

You want it, thighs burning and everything in you aches with the need of it. If you don’t get to come this time you think you might very well die from it.

"Santiago, I swear to god, don't-stop-don't-fucking-stop."

It’s meant as a threat. But the words passing between your lips are breathless and needy. Whiny. Beyond any reasonable doubt it falls squarely on the scale of begging. The worst part is, you don't even care anymore. Because if whining and begging is what it takes for him to actually let you come, you’ll whine for him. You’ll beg and plead and do whatever it is he wants you to do.

Your pride was scattered somewhere between the third or fourth or maybe even fifth time he could have made you come but didn’t.

The sharp line of his nose digs into your heated cheek. Arms locked impossibly tight around you, pressing every inch of you to him, and still, it feels like he’s clutching on trying to press you even closer to him. Like he’s worried that you’ll slip between his fingers if there’s any gap of space between you.

"Not gonna stop cariño.”

His voice has no right to be that sweet and gentle. You can see his expression on the small screen on the phone mirrored back to you and he has no right to look strained and tortured as if he’s the one in pain. He did this to you.

“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he says, and his voice is so quiet and gentle, it almost sounds like a plea. Like he’s the one asking for your permission, begging you to let him feel you. Like the last hour (or was it hours, god knows) had not taken place because of him. “Let's come together ok?"

His other hand comes to your hip, pulling you in closer to him. His hips snaps hard into you. It's so much, almost too much and his fingers are still circling your clit, and– and fuuuuuuuck.

It hits you all at once. Deep and sudden and everywhere, your orgasm overwhelms you, until you can't breathe, can't think, can't move. Sound disappears altogether, and the last thing you think you hear is Santiago's strained voice, distant and far away. You're only able to make out your husband's name and yours amongst the rest of the nonsensical words he's speaking.

The only thing you're capable of is letting Santiago fuck into you, until you can feel his hips stutter into a jerky pace, and the way his cock twitches inside of you as he comes with a strangled groan.

Santiago is snoring quietly when you wake with your ear pressed against his chest. The afternoon sun has dimmed now, replaced by a softer amber that washes the white walls in its sunset hues.

Raising yourself by your elbows, you cast a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand, shit, 5pm, how did you sleep away half the day.

Santiago is how.

"Shit, did we fall asleep?" a raspy murmur comes to your side.

He's rubbing the sleep from his eyes, eyes squinting adorably as he sits himself up and surveys the room and spots the clock much like you did.

"Jesus, five? how did we even--" he grumbles a bit, fingers threading through his hair to try to detangle the absolute mess you've left it in, as he starts to wake.

"Oh, oh shit shit!" he curses and launches himself to the foot of the bed.

You watch him in surprise, as you see him grab the phone.

"Oh thank god," Santiago sighs out and his shoulders sag with relief. He turns back towards you, holding up the phone.

"Left it on when we passed out, thought the battery died and the video didn't save. Fortunately, it's fine, will just have to trim it down so Frankie doesn't have to watch us snoring for hours."

The image of it, Frankie sitting in his hotel, trying to get his rocks off, and instead being greeted by three hour footage of Santiago snoring, has you snorting with a grunt-like laugh.

In front of you, Santiago tilts his head as he just looks at you, with a dopey smile on his face.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he says, but the smile, sweet and warmer than the sunset blankets over you and you let it settle over you, without any further quip or remarks for once.

"Wanna grab a bite to eat?" Santiago asks you.

Your tongue salivates at the prospect, images of grilled meats and deep fried spring rolls already flashing before your eyes.

"Oh yes! Can we go to Chinos?"

Santiago smile slips away into a scowl. "Didn't that place get shut down for health violations last month?"

"Yeah, but they reopened this week."

"We're going to end up with food poisoning like that time we went there the night before graduation."

You tip your head, considering him, and you can clearly hear the word that he didn't say. He didn't say no.

Your lips curl into the sweetest smile you can muster as you flutter your eyelashes at him. "How pretty do I have to ask?"

Santiago shakes his head, until he flashes you a toothy smile that crinkles his eyes.

It starts the way so many things start between you and Santiago. It was a stupid idea, and you may have talked Santiago into it.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

A/N: I started this piece well over 1 1/2 years ago and it was actually supposed to be the follow up to Coming Home but I got completely stuck at how to write edging scenes, and didn't feel confident enough at the time to finish it. I came back to it this week, realizing that ironically now this is all I write for Santiago, and finished it within an afternoon, and was just so buzzed and happy about it, I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #triple frontier #santiago garcia #frankie morales #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #homecoming #cici writes

[voilate]

Countdown

Pairings: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: Y/N Stark allowed Quentin Beck to fill the hole that her father left following his devastating death. As the countdown ticks she is forced to either betray her boyfriend, Peter Parker, or her dead dad.

Word Count: 2254

⚠️: Kidnapping, Violence, Blood, Stress

My eyes begin fluttering open at the sound of machines clanking.

“Peter?” I drowsily groan as my vision unblurs. The room is dark and I can barely make out a few shadows that decorate my sight. I take notice of the restraints that tightly grip my stomach, arms, and legs, keeping me glued upright to a cold metal chair.

“Peter!” I gasp, suddenly regaining consciousness. I aggressively flail back and fourth in attempts to rip away from the shackles holding me in place. They grip me so tightly I can hardly begin to struggle before being met with a pressing pain.

“Peter!” The metal against my stomach digs deeply into my skin, making it hard to breathe.

The last thing I remember is walking in on Peter fighting Mr Beck. I didn’t know why they were fighting or what was happening, and had no time to figure it out before..

Suddenly I feel the agonizing pain of a pounding headache spewing through my skull as I recall a drone flying into me. I can’t remember much past that. Distant calls for help, faint screams of my name, and then waking up here are the only helpful details I can pull to the front of my mind.

I look around, desperately trying to adjust my eyes to the unlit room. I’m assuming Peter isn’t here, and i’m hoping I’m alone, which just leaves me to my thoughts.

After my dad passed, Mr Beck was so quick to step in as a parental figure, for both Peter and I. I’ve grown so attached to him so quickly, I can’t begin to imagine what could’ve sparked an argument between my two closet companions.

I close my eyes to help sort my thoughts, and tame the migraine that’s only grown larger from trying to focus in the dark.

Maybe Peter tried to take back the glasses he gifted to Mr Beck. I can faintly remember the details of him telling me he was starting to regret his decision. Everything he so briefly mentioned to me about the situation is a blur in the mess of my current state of mind.

I told him that I trusted Mr Beck, and that my dad would have too, but he was so frantic. I don’t know why I brushed him off so quickly.

I hear the clatter of a light object falling onto the ground, which startles my eyes back open.

“Am I alone?” I mutter lowly after an eerily pregnant pause.

I don’t know if I was expecting a response or not, but a shadowed figure slowly appearing from the dark, creeping into the low light that shines from a far away lamp, I can confidently say I was not prepared for.

“Hello?” I call, awaiting a response, “Peter?”

“He’s not here.” The voice grumbles. “He ran like a coward.”

The man whose voice I’m quite familiar with, steps forward, allowing the light to ever so slightly illuminate his facial features.

“Mr Beck?” I question, “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” He echoes, stifling a laugh, “What’s going on, is Peter betrayed me. And left you here to die.”

“What do you-“

“Just shut up!” He orders, and I slam my mouth shut. He quickly kneels on the ground in front of me, taking my shackled hands and looking into the depths of my eyes with intent.

He seems manic. Like he’s actually losing his mind. His eyes bulge in a way that screams danger. If I wasn’t restrained I would pull back, run away from his crazed state and find Peter, but for now I have to tough it out.

“I need your help.” He utters. “I need the code to your dad’s vault. The one on the 29th floor of Stark Industries.”

I bite my lip, confused as to what the hell is going on.

“I know he put his most valued things on that floor because it was a random number,” He continues, “Nobody would think to check any floors besides the top and the bottom. With 29 being the date of your birthday, it was a pretty simple code to crack.”

He pulls away, shaking his head after being met with my thoughtless eyes.

I know what he’s talking about. I know what secrets lie behind that vault, and I now realize what’s going on.

For years my dad warned me of all the enemies who would be out to get him. He told me stories of encounters from the past and predicted things that would happen in the future. My dad was no idiot, but it turns out I am. I curse myself for not seeing the signs sooner. The signs that Peter definitely caught onto, and literally spelled out for me. I don’t know why Mr Beck is doing this, and I don’t know how I fell for his lies, but I’ve been professionally trained by Iron Man for a situation like this.

Act dumb.

If I don’t know what he’s talking about, which would be highly plausible in a situation such as this one, there’s literally nothing he can try and force out of me.

Playing clueless is how I go home without a bruise on my body, and it’s the easiest game to play.

“Mr Beck,” I sigh, allowing my voice to break, “I don’t know what you’re-“

“Oh, save it.” He groans. “Did you really think I expected the daughter of stubborn ass Tony Stark to give in immediately?”

I stare at him blankly.

“No. I didn’t. I played the long game. I grew close with you and your boyfriend, stepping in at perfectly timed moments, waiting months, trying to work anything out of either of you, but to no avail, “He looks up as if recalling a memory, “and now we’re here. Tears begin to form in my eyes, and I pray they don’t fall. I trusted Mr Beck. I confided in him and let him fill the hole that my fathers death left behind just for his own selfish gain. “Do you really think, after months of planning, and even more months of pretending to give any shits about you and Peter, that I would throw it all away in an impulsive heat?” He chuckles. “Everything has been thoroughly thought out to the bone. So I ask you again,” I hear the clink of a knife being pulled from his belt. “What’s the code?”

I don’t look at his dagger. If I do, he’ll sense that i’m contemplating wether or not to tell him. But I don’t know anything, so there’s nothing to decide upon. I stare into his eyes, my vision blurred by my glossed pupils.

“I don’t know anything.”

Slowly, he lifts the tool to my face, pressing it against me cheek.

Part of me doesn’t believe he’ll actually do it. Like he somehow really does care for me. As if he’s being driven by a filthy greed that almost everyone has hidden deep down.

That was my first mistake.

He swiftly slashes across my cheek, leaving a stinging sensation and the trickling feeling of gushing blood.

“I know you think this will all work out. Like if you don’t tell me anything you’ll walk out of here alive, but you’re wrong. If you really have nothing to tell me, you no longer serve me any purpose, therefore I can kill you.”

Exasperating a sigh, I close my mouth stubbornly to symbolize the lack of information I’m willing to give, and look to the floor, which results in a quick slice of the knife.

I wince, trying not to think about the blood slipping down my neck and onto the tight lavender dress Peter had picked out for our date night.

“What’s the code to the vault?” He repeats.

“I don’t know.”

He grabs the collar of my dress, slowly dragging his knife all the way down to my thighs, leaving my body exposed and a long red liquid spewing where his knife opened my dress.

He looks up at me, clearly searching for a reaction that I don’t gift him. He angrily wraps his legs around my thighs, taking a seat on my lap. At an antagonizing pace, he begins dragging his knife from my eyebrow all the way down my nose and to my cheek.

Then down my arm repeatedly, as if solely in spite of me.

“Someone will come for me.” I spit the blood that had trickled onto my lips and into my mouth onto his already blood stained shirt. “Peter will find me.”

He chuckles, slowly rising to his feet and walking to a nearby table. “He left you.”

The tears that stream down my face and fall into my lap aren’t for the pain that he causes me, but for the memory of our relationship. The guilt that I feel after letting him replace my wonderful father. Dad would never stand by and let this happen, and I’m not going to either.

He fidgets with a few tools on the table before settling for a high tech remote. I hear the sound of a button being clicked before a projector lowers from the ceiling.

I stubbornly lift my sunken gaze to see what the screen is for. It goes static for few seconds, before flickering to a countdown screen.

“2 minutes and 30 seconds remaining.” A monotone voice reads.

“You see that?” He questions, “I know you’d do anything to protect the people you care about, including endure hours of torture. That part was just for my enjoyment.”

He motions to my cloth less body.

The screen shines brightly, illuminating the wide, cocky smile plastered on Mr Becks face, “If you fail to tell me what I want to know about your dads safe before the timer goes off, a video will broadcasts across every public television screen in new york city.” He pauses as if trying to build suspense. “A broadcast that will expose Spider-man’s identity.”

For a split second, my face falls, and his smile brightens.

“I-“ I stammer, looking at the screen in shock.

Is he bluffing? He has to be. But his face reads otherwise. He proudly stares up at the screen, almost as if he hopes I don’t give in so that his genius, perfectly executed plan can come to life.

“Two Minutes remaining.” The voice reads.

I think about Peter. My boyfriend. My best friend. I know Mr Beck is lying, and that Peter didn’t really leave me here, but Tony was my dad.

I close my eyes in remembrance of what I’ve lost. How my dad spent those years trying to bring Peter back, and got himself killed in the process. How I lost him long before he was really gone. All for Peter.

“What would he do?” I foolishly ask myself.

He wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. He would’ve caught on to Mr Beck the second he walked into the picture. This is all my fault, and Peter shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes. He would save Peter.

“30 seconds remaining.”

I open my eyes and watch the screen, watch the seconds slowly inch down. A tear escapes my eye, and I don’t bother hiding It’s clear i’m upset, my facade has fallen.

He slowly inches towards me, placing his hand ‘comfortingly’ on my face and using his thumb to wipe away my tears. “What’s it gonna be?”

My eyes are filled with furry, though my voice doesn’t reflect it as I calmly reply. “I hate you so fucking much.”

“I knew you’d come around!” He smiles, walking to the other side of the pitch black room. I see a number panel light up, as he looks to me expectantly.

The timer continues to rush down, now reading 18 seconds.

“0212912001” I recite quickly through clenched teeth.

I faintly hear the clicking of him inputting some numbers.

“Your birthday?”

“My birthday.” I mumble, allowing a tear to roll down my cheek.

Beep Beep

The machine confirms, illuminating a green light as he turns back to me in astonishment.

“Didn’t think i’d tell the truth?” I coldly stare at the timer, as my tears continue to fall.

“No.” He says shortly, rushing to see the projector, “I honestly didn’t think you’d be so weak.” He says it like a passing thought. As though he planned to say it in confidence but was too worried about something else that was going on.

“Six.” The tedious voice reminds.

“Giving up your fathers most important life changing inventions?”

“Five.”

“To protect your boyfriend?”

“Four.”

He laughs, shaking his head. His voice again laced in conceded confidence “Pathetic.”

“Three.”

“Turn it off!” I cry, trying to break free of the restraints that hold me.

“Two.”

“It’s scheduled to upload. The countdown isn’t what controls when. I could never have stopped it.”

“One.”

As if on command, the screen changes to a video of a bloodied Mr Beck, presumably immediately after his fight with Peter. I quickly send him a glance and notice he’s wearing the same outfit as in the broadcast.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this

alive-“ I hear clanking and fighting in the near distance behind the camera, “Peter Parker is Spider-man.” He pants,

Peter is then brought into frame. He’s in his all too familiar suit, but it’s torn, bloodied, and his mask is nowhere in sight .

“No.” I mumble.

“And if you’re seeing this… he’s killed me.”

The screen goes dark and my heart plummets.

#spiderman #peter parker #tom holland #zendaya #spiderman no way home #spiderman homecoming #spider-man kidnap #quentin beck #spider man x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #spider man fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #marvel #the avengers #avengers kidnapping

[lnfours]

sideline (one) | t.h

summary -> tom holland: the name thats always floating around campus, and for good reason. he’s the captain of the hockey team, he’s good looking, and he’s always caught up in an off and on again relationship with the president of the sorority. that’s where you come in. you two had made a deal to make your exes jealous, but we all know how fake relationships end.

wc -> an introductory 3.1k :)

warnings -> mentions of being cheated on, drinking, and language.

🎵 spotify playlist | 📖 prev/next chapter | �� masterlist

                                 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

summer had gone by in a blink of an eye, and before you knew it, it was fall. the start of junior year, the second to last year of your college education. the year where almost everyone starts to realize ‘oh, this shit is real’ and really whip themselves into shape. 

you had gotten back to your off campus house before your two other roommates. you had met the two other girls you now call best friends during your freshman year. there was sarah, who was your roommate your first year, and mia, who was your neighbor in the dorms.

you enjoyed being the first one to the house. you could move in your stuff peacefully without having the other girl’s stuff in the way. plus, you could play music as loud as you wanted to. that is, with the exception of the open window and the other students looking up towards your room whenever they walked by. 

and of course, just like it was last year, once the others girls arrived: chaos ensued. 

“oh my god, the hockey team is throwing a party tonight,” mia practically yelled from the kitchen, “we have to go!”

mia was the wild child, the party animal out of the three of you. sarah was a lot more like you, someone who would rather stay at home and watch a good movie than go out to a party. however, over the past couple semesters, mia has gotten you more out of your shell.

which she may or may not take a little for granted on some occasions.

you shook your head, “hell no.”

“why not?” she frowned. you rolled your eyes. 

“because if the hockey team is throwing a party then you know, about 99.9% of the time, taylor and her posse are gonna be there.”

taylor harrison, the president of the sorority and the literal definition of daddy’s money. she's the type of girl who gets what she wants when she wants it, and if she doesn't then all hell brakes loose.

it didn't help that she was the girl every guy had their eye on. the girl, that for some reason, every girl wanted to be approved by her and be her friend. you couldn't understand why someone would want to get sucked into her toxic, little circle. 

“besides,” you shrugged, “jack and i have plans.”

the two other girls sent you playful looks, “plans?”

“oh, shut up.”

jack had been your boyfriend since the beginning of last year. the two of you were in the same class, he sat next to you and the rest is history. it was cliche and something that happens to everyone, but you could tell that it was different with him.

“well then,” mia sighed, looking over at sarah, “i guess you’re forced into going to the party this time.”

sarah groaned, “seriously? there’s a new episode of drag race i need to watch.”

mia gave her a look, “i’ll buy you coffee for a week.”

sarah rolled her eyes before looking back over at you, watching as you slowly backed away from the conversation, “you owe me.”

you laughed, hand on the knob to the front door, “sorry! gotta go!”

you quickly left the house before you were convinced to skip out on jack and go to the party too. you made your way towards the campus apartment buildings, giving small smiles to a couple of the familiar faces that passed you. you had made your way through the group of people in the quad, going inside the building and heading for the stairs. 

you reached his apartment door and knocked, but there was no answer. you waited a couple seconds as you heard shuffling from the other side of the door.

you knocked again, “jack?”

with no answer yet again, you reached for the door knob and turned it slowly, but you wish you hadn’t. you watched as a red headed girl held her shirt up, covering her chest and as jack froze in place in front of the door, shirtless with hickeys littering his collarbone. 

you didn't know what to say, or how to react as the girl turned around and put her shirt on. 

“y/n, baby, this isn’t what it looks like-“

you cut him off with a hard slap across his face. the red headed girl gasped quietly. you sent her a look. 

“don’t you have somewhere to be?”

she gathered her things quickly before talking to jack before she pushed past you, “i’ll call you?”

he didn’t answer her, just stood there looking at you. you watched her leave as she quickly made her way towards the staircase at the end of the hall, disappearing behind other people. 

“how could you?” you asked, your voice breaking as tears threatened to spill over your eyes. 

“i’m sorry-“

“don't,” you mumbled, “we’re done.”

he watched as you turned away from him, walking towards the stairs. you ignored his calls to come back as tears spilled out of your eyes and onto the tile of the hallway. 

you took out your phone, sending a text to the groupchat with mia and sarah. 

y/n change of plans, not going to jacks.  you guys at the party yet?

sarah unfortunately what happened with jack?

y/n  ill explain when i get there 

mia YAY Y/NS COMING TO THE PARTY!!! 

you locked your phone, shoving it into the back pocket of your jeans as you made your way towards the house party. most of the guys on the hockey team had done the same thing as you and your friends, they had decided to share a house off campus. it was the hotspot for all the parties and they were known to throw the best of them. 

you walked up the path, people sitting outside with drinks in their hands as music boomed from inside the house. you made your way through the door, looking for sarah and mia, but they were nowhere to be found. 

you sighed, making your way to the kitchen instead. you went through the different alcohols and mixed up some kind of concoction into your cup, gulping it down before reaching for another alcohol. you poured a heavy amount, someone walking into the kitchen and coming up next to you, grabbing a can of soda. 

“damn, rough day?” 

you instantly knew that accent. tom holland. the captain of the hockey team, the hottest guy on campus.

and taylor harrington’s boyfriend. or ex boyfriend. it really depended on how she felt that day. 

“you could say that.”

he watched as you mixed the vodka with a can of soda. you didn’t tense at his gaze, didn’t immediately want to keep his interest. but something about you made his eyes linger a little longer than he would’ve done with anyone else. 

“you alright?” he asked, still watching as you sipped the drink from your cup. you made eye contact this time, nodding as you swallowed. 

“not really, but it’s not like you necessarily care, right?” 

you didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but you really didn’t want to deal with taylor’s bitching if she saw you talking to tom. you were pretty sure that if she were to say something to you right now, you’d rip the overpriced extensions out of her bleach blonde head. 

“i mean if you’re upset about something, i think it’s best if you talk about it. especially ‘cause it looks like you’ve been crying.”

why's he so nice?

“and what? talk to you about my problems? no thanks.”

he shrugged, leaning against the counter, “can’t say i didn’t try.”

you took another sip before looking back at him. you didn’t mean for your eyes to linger around his jawline, but god he was hot. any girl, or guy, would say the same thing. he was easy on the eyes, extremely good at his sport and he got near perfect grades. he literally checked all the boxes.

that’s when you noticed something was missing, “where’s your barbie girlfriend and her minions?” 

he laughed, “not a clue, could care less to be honest with you.”

you raised an eyebrow, “what? did she break up with you for the 30th time today because you didn’t get her a chanel bag?”

he smiled, “nah, i broke up with her. caught her sleeping with this other guy.”

your eyes widened, mentally cursing yourself for being such a dick, “oh, uhm- i’m sorry.”

“no, it’s okay-“

“it’s not, because i know what it feels like,” you said, your eyes meeting his brown ones, “it sucks.”

“how long ago, if you don’t mind me asking?”

you looked down at your phone, glancing at the time, “about forty-five minutes ago.”

his eyes widened softly, “shit, i’m sorry.” 

you shrugged, “what can you do, right?”

he nodded, “suppose you’re right.”

it was quiet for a couple seconds before he spoke up again, “is there a part of you that kinda wants them to be jealous? like see you with someone else and be like ‘damn, i shouldn’t have fucked that up’? or is it just me?” 

you thought about it for a second. thought about the look on jack’s face if he were to see you with someone else, if he would even react. you thought about rubbing it into his face that you found someone better, someone who would never betray your trust. 

“yeah,” you nodded, “now that you mention it.”

your conversion was interrupted when mia and sarah made their way into the kitchen, “y/n! there you are!”

you smiled at sarah, clearly seeing a very drunk mia.

“hey,” sarah said, “so what happened with jack?”

“it’s a long story, i’ll explain later,” you said, grabbing the bottle of tequila out of mia’s hands, “let’s put that down, yeah?” 

“but ‘m not even drunk!” you were surprised you were able to make out the sentence from how slurred her words were. 

you chuckled, “trust me, you are,” you looked over at sarah, “we should head back to the house.”

she nodded back at you, agreeing. tom spoke up once again, “hey, i could give you guys a ride back to your house.”

you waved him off, smiling politely, “no, it’s okay. it’s not that far of a walk.”

“no, no, i insist,” he said, fishing his keys out of his pocket, “just tell me how to get there.”

you looked at him, “you’re sober?”

“yeah,” he said, “i don’t really drink.”

you nodded to him, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer. you let sarah and mia walk in front of you, tom on your left. he walked up to a group of guys that you assumed to be his house and teammates. 

“hey, i’ll be back in a little.”

“sounds good, man.”

he nodded towards the door, placing his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowd. as you pushed through with tom following behind, you noticed the looks that got thrown your way.

of course everyone’s eyes were on you, you were walking with tom holland, who had his hand on your back. of course it looked a little bit conspicuous to anyone who was watching.

once you were outside, he unlocked the audi that was sitting in the driveway, mia and sarah filing into the backseat as you climbed into the passenger side. 

“so, where to, ladies?”

“we’re on lincoln, in one of the off campus houses.” sarah said, letting mia lean her head on her shoulder. 

he nodded, putting the car in reverse. the music softly playing from the speakers as you found yourself staring out the window, losing yourself in thought as tom made small conversation with sarah in the back. 

“hey,” his voice directed towards you as it pulled you out of your train of thought, “you alright?”

you looked over at him, sending him a tight lipped smile and a nod, “yeah.”

“you sure?” he looked back over at you before looking at the road in front of him, “you’re not a very good liar.”

you sighed, “just thinking about what you mentioned earlier, you know the whole ‘making my shitty ex jealous’ thing.”

he nodded, “yeah, it’s just the coming up with something that would bother them that’s the hard part.”

you nodded in agreement, looking back out the window. you started thinking of ways that you could make it look like you were doing so much better than jack, something that would instantly make him regret cheating on you. 

that’s when it hit you.

“a fake relationship!” you said, tom’s attention turning back to you. 

his eyebrows were furrowed, “what?”

“you know, get into a fake relationship with someone. you go out and pretend that the two of you are dating, the other person would obviously know it’s fake, and the both of you could benefit from the ‘relationship’. the best thing about it is that no one else would know you're not together, only the two of you.” 

he nodded, “doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“of course it doesn’t, because i came up with it,” you smirked, “and i’m the mastermind.”

he let out a chuckle as you pointed to your house, telling him he could just pull up in front of it. he did as you had asked, pulling in front of the house and unlocking the doors so the three of you could get out. 

“thanks for the ride, tom!” sarah smiled, helping mia out of the car as she led her towards the house. 

“anytime.”

you watched your roommates from where you were standing by the open car door. once you saw they were inside, you looked back at him. 

“thanks for letting me vent,” you smiled, “and for the ride, too,” you tucked a piece of hair behind your hair as the wind softly blew it in front of your face, "you know, she really ruined your reputation."

he smiled from the drivers side, “i’ve heard that more than you think.”

you smiled back, “thanks again.”

“always.”

you closed the door to the car softly, making your way to the front door. you had noticed he stayed in the car, making sure you made it to the door okay. you sent him a small wave as you closed the door, locking it and turning off the outside light.  

you leaned up against the wooden frame, looking back at your grinning roommates, “what?”

“tom freaking holland just drove us home because of you!” mia said, “how did that even happen?!”

you rolled your eyes, “nothing happened. nothings happening, okay? we’re just in the same situation.”

“oh, yeah,” sarah said as you made your way into the kitchen, “what happened with jack?”

you took a deep breath as you grabbed a water bottle, the two girls anxiously waiting for you to tell them why you were so upset.

“i uh, i went over to his apartment and he was fucking another girl,” you said, both of their mouths dropping open, “and i broke up with him.” 

“i’m so sorry,” mia said, “he didn’t deserve you.”

“what a dick!” sarah rolled her eyes, both of the girls walking over and wrapping you in a group hug, “we love you.”

you smiled, “i love you guys.”

                                 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“what, so are they broken up or are they dating still?” you asked, watching whatever reality show sarah had put on the living room tv. she shrugged her shoulders.

“not really sure.”

“if i was her, i’d break up with him.” mia said from her side of the couch. sarah nodded her head, pointing at her as a silent way of saying she made a point. 

there was a knock on the door, pulling all of you away from the show. you got up from your seat, putting your drink down, “i got it.” 

you walked over to the front door, unlocking it as you peeked open the door. you opened it the rest of the way as you smiled at the brunette boy in front of you. 

“stalker much?” you joked and he let out a soft laugh.

“hello to you, too,” he joked back at you, “do you have a minute? i uh... have to talk to you about something.”

you nodded, letting him inside the house. sarah and mia watched from the living room, eyebrows raised as you shut the door. 

“hey, tom!”

he smiled back at the girls in the living room, sending them a small wave as they sent you a look. you waved your hand in front of your neck, telling them to cut it out. 

“we’re going upstairs.” you grabbed tom’s arm, pulling him away from the looks your friends were sending. he followed you up the wooden steps and into your room. he looked around at your room as you closed the door. 

you sat cris-cross on the bed, waving towards the desk chair and the bed, “you can sit wherever.”

he nodded, opting for the desk chair, “thanks.”

you sent him a soft smile, “so, what’s up?”

“so, i’ve been thinking about what you said in the car last night, the whole ‘fake dating’ thing,” he started, taking a pause to make sure you understood what he was talking about. when you nodded, he continued, “what if we 'fake-dated' each other? i mean, i know it’s kind of crazy beings we barely know each other, but you said it’s better to choose someone who knows it’s fake and someone who could also benefit from it. plus, you said you wanted to make your ex jealous too. you check all of the boxes.”

you raised an eyebrow, “i… i uh-“

“i know, i'm sorry to just kind of throw it all onto you at once, but i’ve been thinking about it since last night. i mean, you are the mastermind, right?” he smirked and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

at the end of the day, how bad could it be?

“what if i say no?”

he was silent for a second, “i didn’t really think you’d be opposed.”

you let out a sigh, why am i doing this? 

“okay, fine, you have a deal,” you extended your hand out for him to shake, when he reached for it, you pulled your hand back. he shot you a confused look.

“however, we’re doing it by my rules.”

he shook your hand, “deal.”

you pointed to the notepad and the pen on your desk, “can you hand me that, please?”

he nodded, grabbing the paper and pen off the desk. you turned to a blank page, writing at the top of the page. 

fake dating rules:

“okay, number one,” you said, tapping the pen against the notebook as you thought about the first rule. when it came to your mind, you immediately started writing it down, “no strings attached. this is simply just to get back at our shitty exes.”

he nodded, “oh, you have to come to my games and the hockey team parties. gotta make it look like you’re an actual supportive girlfriend.”

"the games i'm alright with, but the parties?" you scrunched your face up. he gave you a look, but softened when he came to an agreement.

"okay, not all of them, but most of them."

you rolled your eyes, "fine."

you wrote down what he said as rule number two, “anything else?”

“one ‘date’ per week. we get to know more about each other so it doesn’t seem suspicious to anyone we talk to about our ‘relationship’.”

you wrote it down, adding the last rule in all capital letters and underlined it, “no one knows it’s a fake relationship. absolutely no one.”

he nodded in agreement, watching as you made makeshift signature lines. you passed him the notebook as he let out a soft laugh, taking the pen from your grip. he signed on his line, your signature going next to his. 

“so it’s settled, girlfriend.” you smiled, “it’s settled, boyfriend.”

                               ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

💌 beings my tagged list has gotten so long that tumblr literally won't let me add it, the tagged list is temporarily closed until i can figure it out. in the meantime, be sure to follow and turn on notifications for @toms-gf to be notified whenever i post imagines :)

xoxo, jordan

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman #spider-man #tom holland series #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x fem!reader series #tom holland au #au #hockey player!tom holland #college!tom holland #college!au #like #reblog #series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland reader insert #spider man #marvel #mcu #mcu imagines #marvel imagines #marvel mcu imagines #marvel mcu #reblog if you like :)