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kentopedia · 7 months

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NB, idea I thought you might like—you know those memes/stories of boyfriends who get drunk and tell their girlfriend something like, “You’re pretty but I have a girlfriend,” or whatever?

Nanami. Very red-faced and very seriously.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ THE BOYFRIEND TRAP — nanami kento

OMG THIS IS SO CUTE !! it's so funny you mention it bc i've been thinking about writing something like this for a while now hehe. this gave me a perfect excuse to write something sweet bc i've been feeling so emotional about him

it was satoru's idea to go out drinking. ironic, really, considering he was the one that had a soda in front of him, no more than half-empty, a refill after the first sickeningly sweet one.

across the restaurant, at the bar, gojo was talking with nanami, nodding seriously with a small grin as kento rambled on about something that he would probably regret spilling to the white-haired man in the morning. it was easy to get kento to talk with some alcohol in him; he normally kept things locked up tight, but once you got a drunk kento going, it was, truly, hard to stop him.

"you should get him home," shoko said, smiling from where her hands were set in her hands. "i'm afraid of what satoru is over there asking."

it was then that you noticed the phone in gojo's hands, not so subtly hidden behind the edge of the table, filming as kento waved his hands around in the air. nanami wasn't normally such a lightweight—whatever satoru had ordered him must have packed a heavy punch.

you sighed. "kento is going to kill him tomorrow." with that, you said goodbye to shoko and stood from the table, heading over to the two men conversing at the bar.

as you approached, satoru waved gleefully, not even trying to hide the fact that he was filming the entire scene.

"are you ready, kento?" you asked, grabbing your phone from your bag to check the time; it was later than you thought. "we should probably leave or we'll miss the last train."

"you're leaving? it's still so early," satoru whined, a dramatic pout on his lips. "i can just call ijichi-"

"you bother that man enough." you rolled your eyes. not to mention, kento would probably be mortified if his younger colleague saw him in such a state. "come on, ken-" you placed a hand on his forearm, but it was only there for a moment before nanami, politely, lifted it off his arm and gave it back to you.

"i'm sorry," he said, his expression one of complete seriousness, despite his reddened face. "i can't go with you."

you glanced over at satoru, who covered his mouth, trying not to choke on his laughter. "why not?" you asked kento, your eyebrows pulling together.

nanami stood straighter, his eyes hazy as he regarded you apologetically. his tie was loosened, and the top button of his shirt was undone, cooling his heated skin. "you're pretty," he said, slurring the words a bit. "but i have a girlfriend."

satoru's laughter escaped in loud cackles as he held the phone up higher, shoving it into nanami's face.

you blinked up at kento, a small smile pulling onto your lips. "you do, huh? you don't think i'm prettier than your girlfriend?"

he frowned. "no. of course not." kento's hair had come undone, two blonde strands falling over his forehead as he sifted through his pocket, pulling out his phone. he showed you the lockscreen; a photo of you smiling widely beside him as he kissed you on the cheek. "see how cute she is? she's beautiful."

you laughed, your cheeks warm as you took the phone from his hands. "she sure looks an awful lot like me, kento." giving the phone back to him, you showed him your own lock screen, another photo of the same day; this one was just of kento smiling softly at the camera, the orange sunset glowing against his skin.

he stared at the photo for a moment, studying it, as if unsure why you had a picture of him. then, his face cleared. "oh," kento breathed, looking back at you and then the photo, a realization erupting behind his eyes. "that's why you're so pretty."

you smiled, and tugged his hand to pull him away from the barstool. "you are very pretty too, kento," you said, and his cheeks grew redder, his smile lopsided from all the alcohol. "i'm glad i won't have to drag you out of here like a toddler." though you exhaled a sigh, it was more amused than anything.

waving goodbye to satoru, you led kento out of the restaurant, his arms stringing around your waist as he clung to you. he kissed your cheek, your temple, and you laughed breathlessly, pretending to be exasperated.

"i love you," he said, squeezing you tight. "you're my favorite person in the entire world." the letters were drawn out, the syllables meshing together as he stumbled onto his feet. you were certain he would've fallen onto the pavement, had it not been for the tight grip on your body.

he repeated the words again, i love you, i love you, like he couldn't get enough of the taste of them on his tongue.

the feeling of him around you was warm, and you leaned back into his chest, just as in love with him as he was with you. though, you couldn't help but mess around with him a little more. teasing him was, perhaps, the one hobby you shared with gojo.

"you love me that much?" you asked, but you still kissed him softly, grinning against his flushed lips. "two minutes ago you didn't even remember who i was."

he hummed, pressing a kiss to your top of your head, stalling you in the middle of the sidewalk. he dragged you close, staring at you with hearts in his eyes. "'m sorry, sweetheart," kento said, running a hand through your hair. "think i drank too much."

you laughed, lacing your fingers with his own. "maybe just a little."

#THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME THIS OMG #I wuv him so so much #this is so sappy and sweet #& i can't help but make gojo reader's bff in everything i write #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#beloved kento 💋 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#nanami fluff #nanami x fem!reader #kento nanami x reader #໒꒱ rylie's angels

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likedovesinthewindd · 1 year

Text

2:54 AM

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: you want to know why peter's been distant lately.

warning: injuries, mentions of typical spiderman violence yk, my inability to write a crime accurately (don't look into it too much), reader's a little oblivious to the obvious.

wc: ± 3000

a/n: i hate this endingg!!!! but i need this out of my drafts. let's also pretend that this trope is so original and not overused at all lmao. requests open:)

The incessant ticking of the clock above your head was beginning to piss you off.

The small restaurant was fairly busy, no one would've even be able to hear it, but you'd chosen the table next to the window–the one with the clock hanging on the wall adjacent to the big glass pane. You'd chosen this table because it was Peter's favorite. He loved watching the bustling city outside as the two of you enjoyed your meals.

You'd think that after living in the city as long as he has, that the scenery would have bore him by now, but he absolutely loved people watching. He could spend hours sitting outside on the rooftop or by the big window in your bedroom, just staring down at the people and cars going about their day or night. He could find entertainment in some of the most mundane activities, and that was one of the many things you adored about your boyfriend.

Right now, however, it was hard to think of how you much you adored him, but rather how mad you were at him. Tonight was your and Peter's six month anniversary, and although you weren't one to celebrate every little milestone, Peter had insisted that you go out for the night. Ironic, since he's not even here right now you thought.

You looked down at your wristwatch, almost in a way to spite the big one that hung right above you, and checked the time. It was a forty-eight minutes past eight. You'd been sitting here for almost 50 minutes waiting for Peter to show up.

You checked your phone, praying he had left a message saying that he was on his way, that he was just running late, but the empty lockscreen staring back at you only made a knot form deep in your belly.

Wait till nine, your mind tried convincing you. He's probably just really caught up at work. So you waited impatiently, your heeled foot nearly tapping a hole into the restaurant floor. After a few more minutes, your waitress approached your table. This was her second time at your table; she had come around first at around twenty minutes past eight, and you had kindly asked her to give you some more time, because you were waiting for someone.

You could see the pity on her face, her probably thinking you got stood up. But you weren't getting stood up, because Peter was just a bit late, and in a few minutes he'd walk through the door and the two of you'd enjoy a wonderful dinner. At least, that's what you were trying to convince yourself.

"Are you ready to order ma'am?" the waitress asked politely. You shook your head, putting on your most convincing smile. "No not yet, I'm waiting for my boyfriend, he'll be here any minute," you said. The pity on her face only seemed to increase. She gave you a weak smile and a nod, and went on her way to help another table.

You glanced up at the small TV that was displayed against the wall on the other side of the small restaurant. It was replaying an old football game from the previous week, before being interrupted by a local news channel's lives broadcast. The TV was muted, but you could see the headline at the bottom of the screen in big bold letters as the reporter stood gesturing at the scene behind her:

SPIDER-MAN TO THE RESCUE ONCE AGAIN

The fact that the city quite literally had it's own superhero always amazed you. Here this random guy was, jumping around in a blue and red suit, fighting bad guys and catching criminals, basically doing the cops' jobs and for free.

You've never had any personal encounters with the elusive hero, but you've heard enough stories from people about him, about how charming and slightly cocky he was and how they so desperately wanted to know who hid beneath the mask. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a bit curious to know too.

On the screen you could see Spider-Man lowering people from the second floor of some building by his webs. After lowering everyone to safety, he dissappeared back inside the building. It seemed to be some kind of hostage situation, people scurrying around confusedly and police cars surrounding the building.

You were so enthralled by the scene playing out on the screen that you hadn't noticed how much time had passed. When you looked at the little clock being displayed in the corner of the TV, your heart sank once again.

21:05

It was five minutes past nine, and no Peter in sight. You could feel your cheeks burning up from anger. A whole hour. Peter made you wait a whole hour, and it didn't look like he was gonna come any time soon. The anger was quickly replaced by sadness, the tears of frustration already fighting to fall from your eyes. You made your way over to the counter of the restaurant, apologizing for wasting their time and tipping your waitress for her effort, before making your way to the door.

It felt like everyone's eyes were on you. They could all probably tell you've been stood up too. There was no other reason for a girl to be walking out of a restaurant after ordering nothing for an hour with her head down and tail between her legs like a kicked dog.

The air outside was refreshing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heart and somehow will the tears away. It was no use; after months of forced stoicism and pretending like Peter's recent negligence didn't hurt, the dam finally broke. You decided to take the walk to your apartment rather than hailing a cab, reasoning that the cool city air would do you good.

On your walk, the sobs continued to leave your mouth quietly. You missed your boyfriend, you missed being able to spend time with him and just be around him. The two of you worked at different times and lived on different sides of the city, so it was already hard to find a time when both of you were free.

The two of you hadn't been together for too long, but it truly felt like Peter was the one for you. When you first made things official you couldn't stay away from each other for too long. You always went on little dates and would meet up whenever the both of you were free, but recently your boyfriend's been very distant and you've been seeing less and less of him. Tonight had been the third date where he'd stood you up, and you couldn't help but think the worst.

What if he was seeing someone else? What if he didn't enjoy being with me anymore and this was his way of asking to break up?

The thoughts left your mind as soon as they were conjured up in your brain. Peter would never do anything like that to you. Not your Peter. He was the sweetest guy you had ever been with and there wasn't a day he wasn't telling you how lucky he was to be with you, or how pretty he thought you were and how much he loved you.

Even on the days the two of you weren't together (which were almost always lately), he'd still send you messages telling you how much he missed you, or would send flowers to your apartment when he knew you were feeling down and he couldn't be there.

Peter was a sweetheart, but you still couldn't help but wonder why he'd been so distant lately. You pulled your phone from your purse, quickly checking to see if he had left a message yet, but still nothing. You shoved your phone back into your purse angrily and started walking faster. All you needed right now was a hot shower and your bed.

As you entered your apartment you hastily toed off your shoes at the door and threw your purse on the nearest table. After a long, piping hot shower and a bowl of leftovers (you still being hungry due to your failed dinner plans), you decided to head to bed, where you cried some more before falling asleep.

A loud banging woke you up in the middle of the night. You checked the alarm clock on your nightstand, and when it read 2:54 AM, you turned yourself back around and ignored whoever chose to bother you at this ungodly hour.

Not even a minute passed before the knocking returned, this time followed by a shout of your name, not loud enough to wake up the whole floor but loud enough for you to hear. When you recognized Peter's voice, you groaned, kicking the covers from yourself begrudgingly before dragging yourself to the door.

You pulled it open aggressively, and when you were met with Peter's silhouette slouching against the doorframe, his head hanging low, all the angry words you had for him sat stuck in your throat. He looked up at you and his big brown eyes found yours in the dark of the hallway. He gave you a weak smile and you had to fight everything inside you to not smile back, reminding yourself why you were mad at him.

"Hi, sweetheart," he whispered. All the anger suddenly returned, and you found yourself slamming the door in his face, but before it could fully close, he blocked it with his foot and invited himself in. When he got out of the dark hallways and inside your apartment, you noticed the bouquet of flowers he held tightly in his hand. They looked like they had been through a lot, and the dress shirt he was wearing (most likely for your date) was untucked and heavily wrinkled.

"I don't want to talk to you," you said, turning your entire body away from him and crossing your arms like an arrogant child, trying to get him to leave, but he was stubborn, putting the flowers on the nearest table, gripping your arms and turning you to face him again. You refused to make eye contact, rather looking down at his pair of dirty sneakers. "I know, but let me explain myself please—"

"And say what?!" you snapped. You hadn't realized how loud you were until you saw Peter flinch slightly, his grip on you still not loosening. "What are you gonna say Peter? You got caught up at work? You had an 'emergency'? You—" when you finally looked him in the face, you got a good look at him in the warm light of your living room/kitchen.

He had a lot of bruising around his face, a rapidly darkening black eye and a busted lip. You looked down at the arms still holding onto you, and you could see similar marks lining his arms. Most of them looked very fresh.

This was another part of Peter that added to up sleepless nights, worrying yourself sick over your boyfriend. He always seemed to have some sort of bruise whenever you'd meet up. Sometimes it was something small like a cut across his eyebrow or a nasty gash on his cheek, and other times it was way more major, like the one time he showed up to a coffee date with a broken arm after being just fine three days prior.

The best part was how fast he'd heal too, no less than a weak and he'd look perfectly fine. It didn't make you feel any better though, and you'd still worry about where he was getting beat up like this.

You tried asking him about it, multiple times, but every time he would just cover it up with a lame joke or just completely try to change the subject. You stopped asking after a while, but that didn't mean you weren't concerned about his safety and curious about what was causing all of these injuries.

"Peter what happened to you? Your face? Are you—" you wanted to reach out and touch his face, but he stopped you with a hand that quickly caught your wrist. "I'm okay," he said, smiling sweetly and giving your wrist a quick kiss, before letting go of your hand. "No you're not. C'mon lemme clean you up," you said grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bathroom, almost completely forgetting about the argument.

The patter of your socked feet filled the quiet of the apartment as you led Peter to the bathroom. You sat him down on the toilet seat and quietly moved around the almost-too-small bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet above the sink to retrieve the first aid kit. You started to clean the small cuts and gashes on his face.

His hands hesitated before making their way to your waist, holding onto your hips. Every time one of the cuts would sting, his grip would tighten slightly. The silence stretched on while you continued to patch him up, and after a while you decided to speak up.

"Look, Peter, I understand if you don't wanna, y'know be with me anymore, but even if we were to break up I'd still be concerned about you. I don't like seeing you get hurt and i can't help if—"

"Woah, hey what?" Peter interrupted your rambling, "I don't want to break up." "Then why do you keep canceling our plans, how come I never see you anymore?" you asked, pausing the work on his face. He winced slighty when he noticed your anger had returned.

"I've just...I've been busy, sweetheart," he said softly. "I've been busy too Peter, but I make time, because I wanna see you, and because I miss you like crazy. Do you even miss like you say you do? Because it surely doesn't show."

"Of course I do!" Peter said, the grip he had on you unconsciously tightening again. "Then why don't you make time?!" you said, the tears of frustration quickly returning to your eyes, "and what about all these bruises, huh? Every time I see you you're hurt somehow and I don't like that, 'cause I don't like seeing you hurt, Peter." By now a few tears had already unwillingly fallen, and you tried to swiftly wipe them away with the sleeve of your sweater.

It both warmed and broke Peter's heart to know that you were so worried about him. He really did miss spending time with you; you were his best friend and he loved being around you. He didn't want you knowing about him being Spider-Man, because he didn't want to put you in any danger. He wanted to keep you as far away from that part of his life as possible, you meant too much to him and he wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you.

He wanted to tell you on many occasions, he'd come close too many times to count, but he'd stop himself each time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not knowing what else to say. "Don't apologize, just talk to me, please," you said brushing your fingers through his soft brown hair. The action calmed both you and him down, and he closed his eyes for a moment, appreciating your touch. It was then when he realized how much he missed your touch, how much he missed you, and being close to you. He felt like he hadn't talked to you, or really even seen you in forever.

Peter didn't know what to say, he wanted to be honest with you, wanted to tell you so bad, but he wanted to protect you above all else. The silence between the two of you stretched on until you sighed, removing your hands from him completely and sighing.

He started panicking, he knew what this meant. You were going to break up with him, tell him to get out and never talk to him again, and even the thought alone made his heart sink down to his feet. He braced himself for the inevitable, retracting his hands from your waist and getting ready to get up and leave.

"It's really late, would you like to stay the night?"

He was definitely not expecting you to say that, and the look on his face certainly told you that. "Are you sure?" he asked, not knowing what else to say. "I don't want to taking the train at this time. You can take a shower while I reheat some leftovers for you," you replied dryly, making your way out the bathroom and to the kitchen.

Peter took your advice, still not sure why you weren't screaming at him to get out of your apartment. After a brief shower, he found some of the clothes you had borrowed from him folded neatly on the toilet seat. He put them on and made his way over to the kitchen. After a much appreciated meal the two of you made your way over to your bedroom.

He found himself immediately moving towards the small plush chair that stood by the big window, lowering himself into it and staring down at the city. You stood next to him quietly, placing your hand on his head and running your fingers through the strands once again.

"I promise I'll tell you one day," Peter whispered, turning his head to look up at you. "I know," you replied, "until then, I'll just patch you up when needed."

You wanted so badly to understand what was going on with Peter, but you knew that there was no getting through to him now, because he was stubborn as hell. So you'd take what you could get for now. And in return he'd try and be there more for you, because he missed you, and the selfish part of him loved you too much to let you go, even if that were the right thing to do.

"How about you move in with me?"

#tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter x y/n #the amazing spider man #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #likedovesinthewindd

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