Hawks: Remember When I Said I Wanted To Grow Up To Be Like You Cuz You Beat The Living Shit Out Of My

i got so sad when trevor had to leave ice spice 💔💔

shy shy shy

a little insecure tasm peter parker x reader, early stages of relationship

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nerdy peter lovers rise

They were just glasses.

On, off. On, off. A clear reflection of Peter in the bathroom mirror, a few circles of color where his head and body would be.

Peter examines himself with the lenses on, pulls out a piece of his sweater that had gotten caught inside his plaid pajama pants. His hands run up through the damp hair that falls flat against his forehead in an attempt to give it a little volume but it's no use without his usual styling products. Peter slaps his palms on his cheeks, shakes his head and sends micro-drops of water sailing. He bounces in place, attempting to shake out the jitters his body has had trouble containing all day.

Peter pushes his contact lens case aside, gives himself one last glance over. He contemplates for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek. Peter sighs as he pulls the lenses off again, cradling them in his hands and blowing air through his lips.

Metal frames, thick lenses.

Couldn't have that spider fixed his vision while he was at it?

Okay, Peter's vision wasn't that bad. Maybe he could survive without the frames Peter felt altered his appearance so drastically (or at least, reflected more accurately the type of person Peter was in his spare time). Peter with Contacts was cool and confident - scaled back from the confidence he had while he was in his suit, but not as pathetic as he was back in high school. Peter with Glasses? Yeah, that guy looked deserving of wedgies.

He reaches for his phone to check the time (and make sure he hasn't left you alone for too long), but can't make out what the white numbers say through his cracked screen.

Okay, maybe it is pretty bad.

Peter sighs, picks up the mess he'd made pre and post shower, hyping himself up one more time before opening the door and flipping the light switch off.

Peter pads down the hallway and peers his head around the corner into the small living room. He squints and can just barely make out the top of your head sitting on his couch.

Even though he can't see you very well, Peter's heart makes a funny feeling in his chest, even through the eye strain.

It's like you can feel Peter's eyes on you (which, you probably can - Peter is working overtime to try and make out the details of you) because you sit a little straighter and turn your head. Peter pushes his glasses on just in time to see you smile. And then grin.

"You wear glasses?"

Your voice is curious, not at all condescending, though Peter can hear the smile in your voice as you come up to meet him.

"For the aesthetics," Peter grins, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in an attempt to make you believe the false sense of confidence he's putting up. It's stupid, really, but a tiny piece of Peter thinks someone as consistently perfect as you should be with someone who is equally on par. And, at the moment, Peter feels like he's letting you down.

You stand close to Peter, too close (his heart can't stop fluttering and his breath has caught in his throat). Peter fights the urge to pull you close to him. Too much, too soon, though he'd really like to kiss you right about now.

You try to contain your smile, a part of you still not quite believing that you've been so consistently guilty of making Peter Parker flustered.

Your fingers gently pull Peter's glasses off with a glint in your eye and Peter frowns at the sudden loss of sight - only because he doesn't want to miss looking at you from so close.

"For the aesthetics, huh?" You grin, turning the glasses to measure the thickness of Peter's lenses. Your suspicions about the strength of his prescription are confirmed by the way Peter's eyes are squeezed together as he looks at you.

"A hundred percent," Peter persists, opening his eyes normally and looking straight at the blurred lines of your face.

You take a step back and flash your phone at Peter, tiny words melted into a block of black. Peter instinctively squints and leans forward, trying to distinguish what the small screen said.

"You're like a grandma," you laugh, fully now.

"You should feel horrible for making fun of the elderly." Peter's arms drop, reaching for his glasses with an easy smile. But you move your hands away and Peter's hands catch on the crooks of your arms as you carefully place Peter's glasses back on his face, taking care to place them behind his ears as comfortably as you can. Your fingers graze against Peter's hair, still damp from his shower, gently moving a few stray pieces back into place.

"Well, you can't go to sleep like that," you murmur. "You'll get sick."

"So I guess we have time to kill?" Peter asks, hoping the two of you will sit down for a movie - or anything that'd keep him close to you, really.

"I guess we do," you grin, hands falling to Peter's shoulders, savoring the feeling of his hands on you, unable to help the craving you have for more.

"Pete?"

"Hmm?" Peter is partially entranced, melted like chocolate with the sweet sound of that little nickname coming out of your mouth. His eyes flicker and he's trying not to stare at your lips, bottom lip caught in his mouth in anticipation.

"Could I put my stuff in your room?" You ask sweetly, trying not to laugh at the way Peter falters, blinking quickly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter nods frantically, hoping he's not as red as he feels.

You bite back your grin as Peter stays there, not moving until you do, sweet brown eyes slightly magnified by his glasses. Oh, but it'd be so cruel to deny him.

You press a quick kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth. It's a little shy and you turn away immediately to grab the overnight bag you'd packed. Two pairs of cheeks are red and grateful for the excuse of it, trying to shake off the little bit of nervousness the two of you still have around each other. It's a little strange, neither of you quite used to having someone around to love so freely. It's new, too, both of you still a little afraid to do something that would scare the other off, each of you knowing you'd never be the one to run off.

But this tiny fear that lives in both of your brains is what had Peter picking over his appearance earlier and is what makes him nervous now as he leads you down the hall to his room. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, considering hiding all his trinkets and trophies, ended up shoving things that had littered his shelves into his closet.

Peter takes a breath before opening his creaky door, smiling as he welcomes you in, hoping you somehow wouldn't notice - or maybe, wouldn't care to ask about - any of the posters or books or medals or figurines that made Peter, Peter. He was partially embarrassed and entirely nervous about sharing more of himself with you. After all, Peter was an expert at shutting people out and not too great at letting them in.

He doesn't know if he's relieved or even more anxious as you stare in awe, bag abandoned near his bed. It's clear you're taking in every detail of Peter's room, eyes not missing a single decoration. Peter feels as if he's being dissected, fidgeting as he waits for you to finish your analyzing. He's about to suggest that movie when you walk over to the desk he has shoved against the wall. Peter doesn't think there's anything special about books and pencils, but you're touching the tops of the things on his desk with care and a fascination he doesn't quite understand.

You quietly move onto old trophies and medals Peter has displayed, only the ones he was proudest of.

"Princeton Math Competition? Wow, Pete." You only turn your attention to him momentarily, returning your eyes to the shelf with a grin.

Peter's heart flutters when you sound... impressed? It was an accomplishment he was proud of, but not something he went around telling strangers.

"Oh, that... that- that's old," Peter laughs, coming up behind you, sure now there'd be no chance of getting you to watch that movie.

"Tell me about it."

"W...what?" Peter laughs, glancing at you curiously.

"I wanna hear about it," you say genuinely, taking a seat on the edge of Peter's bed. "Tell me about it."

Peter doesn't have to tell you he's shocked for you to realize it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Peter's not sure he has the courage to ask why before you beat him, sensing his hesitancy.

"I wanna know everything about you Peter. I wanna hear about your math competitions. I want you to tell me what books you're reading. I wanna know what matters most to you," you shrug, face a little warm from the confession. You don't have too much time to be embarrassed before Peter is next to you, hands digging into the bed at your sides. His face is inches away, his breath warm on your lips.

"Please let me kiss you," Peter whispers.

"Please do," you whisper back, letting Peter take your face in his hands and pull you into a kiss. The surface you've chosen is a little unstable as the both of you shift around, neither of you quite able to let the other go until you're forced to, breathless and grinning.

Peter's glasses have fogged up and he groans, pulling them off exasperatedly. "God, I hate these things."

"Really? But you look so good in them," you comment innocently, picking up the frames and attempting to look through them, muttering something about how, wow, Peter is blind.

Peter's not paying attention, though, heart hammering in his chest. He takes you by surprises when he kisses you this time, glasses still in your hands as they rest against his chest.

"You're trouble," Peter says when he finally pulls away. "You're doing awful things to my heart."

"Should I make fun of you, then?" You tease.

"Oh, I think that'd make it worse."

"I didn't know you were into that."

Peter shoves you as you laugh, though he can't help but join you.

"I didn't know you were into nerds," Peter quips, letting you slide his glasses back onto his face - the ones that suddenly don't seem that bad anymore.

"Only the really pretty ones," you murmur, and really, how could Peter not kiss you for that one?

Peter tries to take his glasses off as your kissing grows heated, knowing they'll be useless when they eventually fog up anyway. But your hand stops Peter, lips puffy from plenty of kisses and still eager for more.

"Nuh-uh," you say, pulling Peter's hand back down. "Keep them on."

bitter

*ੈ✩ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ethan landry x reader

*ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drunk confessions, .2 seconds of angst, no spoilers :)

*ੈ✩ 𝐚/𝐧: part 1 of 2!! i swear i promise, i pinkie promise that part 2 will come out today

you don’t get jealous, ever. 

it was your (albeit private ) defining feature. you were content with everything you had— no, beyond content: you were happy. you didn’t want anything else because you didn’t need anything else. you had a good family, enough money to keep you from debt, good friends, and even better academics. 

so imagine your surprise when you get that bitter feeling boiling in your stomach at the sight of your “friend,” ethan landry, eyeing another girl. 

you’re being very liberal with the term “friend,” but it’s only because you can’t think of a word to describe someone you’d been hanging out with for a few months, talking and treating them as a friend, but going home and imagining what it’d be like to fuck them senseless.

you’d probably call it a crush, but “friend” sounded much less embarrassing. 

but it’s all going on at some stupid party for some stupid celebration you couldn’t care less about; all you wanted to do was get drunk enough to barely avoid a hangover. you went with your small group of friends, and eventually forced yourself to socialize once you had some juice in your system. 

and it was when you were talking to some pretty girl from your liberal arts class when you saw him: leaning against the wall, red solo cup in hand, eyes stuck on a girl in a halter top with patterned shorts to match— a girl standing right across from you. 

and maybe it was something in the way his fingers were tapping on the plastic cup, or the twitching of his knee, or the way that he just refused take his fucking eyes off of her—

it set you off. 

suddenly you found yourself at a table full of cheap bottles of booze, and your plastic cup was full, brimming with whatever concoction of cheap seltzer and even cheaper tequila you could find. soon enough, you were weaving and dodging your way through the sweaty masses to try and find an exit.

finally, after eons (three minutes) of searching, you managed to find yourself a door, and relished in the early spring chill that hit your skin.

you tried to drink and forget, seeing as though that was the whole reason you came out here. but no matter how much jungle juice you downed, you found your mind wandering back to him.

you couldn’t stop thinking about how ethan refused to look at anyone but her, how even when people greeted him, he waved them off without even looking at them. and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way she was dancing, as if she was born to do so, and how he wouldn’t stop fucking staring at her.

you weren’t jealous— you didn’t get jealous. this wasn’t jealousy, it was just…

just what, envy? envious of what? of some dork you’ve grown particularly fond of eyeing some random girl at this stupid frat party? of the guy you’ve been harboring a crush on for months staring at a girl he didn’t even know? of ethan landry, the boy you hadn’t stopped thinking of for months, thinking about anyone but you?

no, you weren’t envious. what could you possibly be envious of?

“what are you doing out here?”

you jump at ethans voice, beginning to feel particularly sluggish— when did your cup get so light? as a matter of fact, when did it get empty?

“i could ask you the same thing,” you say, finding it increasingly difficult to formulate words. 

“it got too sweaty and crowded in there,” he sits down next to you, bringing his arms close to his torso at the sudden cold breeze. “i always forget how much i hate coming to these parties.”

“then why do you keep coming?” you raise the cup to your lips, frowning when you remember its lack of contents. 

he doesn’t say anything.

“is it because of a girl?” you see him tense from the corner of your vision, however foggy it may be. 

ethans shaking his head. “what makes you say that?”

you shrug, carefully placing the cup by your feet. “i saw you looking at her,” his shoulders drop, and you can’t help but feel something in your chest drop too. “she’s really pretty, i think i have a few classes with her.”

“i really don’t know what you’re talking about.” he feigns ignorance, the coward.

“come on ethan, don’t pretend to be stupid, i know you’re smarter than that.” a chill runs down your spine, you tell yourself its not from the sudden realization of your close proximity to him, but instead because of the cool air around you. 

“wait, are you…” he turns to you. “are you jealous?”

you scoff. “jealous? i don’t get jealous e—than,” you hiccup between the syllables of his name.

“you know, i have a tendency to misread situations, but you…” he pauses to take a dramatic breath. “you seem really jealous.”

“okay, sure but…why would i be jealous, hm? it’s not like i make the rules on what girls you can and can’t look at.” you’re staring into his eyes. those wonderful, beautiful, adjective-ful eyes that make you want to start screaming and shaking and crying and throwing up. 

you can’t stop looking at his eyes, and you can feel your gaze flitting between the two.  

you want ethan to quip back with something sharp and cleaver, but he doesn’t. he just turns away from you, shrugs, and keeps on nursing the drink in his hand. 

for a moment, you feel guilty, another feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. maybe that made you a good person, or maybe that just made you a socially inept asshole. 

you don’t know why you feel guilty, but you suspect it has something to do with how silent ethan is, or how his brows are leaning with regret, or how his shoulder are slumped much more than they were a second ago. 

“i wasn’t looking at her,” ethan mutters, breaking your shared silence. “i was…looking at someone else.”

you want to curse him out because, really, why did it matter if he was looking at another girl? it was someone who wasn’t you, and that’s all that mattered. 

“i don’t care ethan, it’s not that serious—” you cut yourself off when you turn to him, frozen in how quickly you drown in his puppy dog eyes. 

and then it hits you. 

he wasn’t looking at that girl, he was looking at someone else.

he was looking— 

“at you.”

oh.

oh.

you want to say something, you really do. in any other situation, if it played out exactly like this but minus the alcohol, you’d be able to come up with some poetic ass speech about love and devotion and life—

but you’re drunk, and you can’t think. you don’t want to think. 

so instead, you act. 

instead, you kiss him. 

your hands are grasping at his shirt and you’re kissing him hard. you don’t care if it’s sloppy or bad, you just care that you’re kissing him.

and, obviously, ethan cares too. 

because in a moment, one of his hands are brushing the crook of your neck, and his other arm is shaking around your waist. you know your breath tastes like black cherry white claw and dollar store tequila, but with the way ethan was kissing you, it was as if you were the best thing he’d ever had in his life.

it’s like he’s starving— as if he’s been waiting for this for months. and you wonder, passively, if he’d been pining for you all this time as well. you want to ask him, but asking him would mean you’d have to stop kissing him, and at this point you’d rather die than have that happen. 

so you’re quick to pull yourself onto his lap, stradding one of his thighs. you’ve just started to work with the hem of his shirt and god just feeling his v-line makes you dizzy— but ethan pulls away, and you feel your jaw slack at the sight of his lust-blown pupils and spit-kissed lips.

“as much as i want this to happen,” you note how heavy he’s breathing. “i really wouldn’t want to have sex with you on the front steps of a house party.”

you’re standing up with a curt nod, pulling ethan by the hand as you back up.

“also my room is like, twelve minutes away—”

“my house is just down the block, and my roommates are gone for the weekend.”

ethan glances towards the direction that you gestured in, and nearly trips over his shoes as you start walking towards it. 

“yeah, that actually sounds perfect.” 

all the way home, neither one of you can stop imagining what it’s going to be like to get fucked senseless.

need some “fuck, you’re so hot” / “can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you” / “i’ve dreamt about this for so long” type dick

Locker Room (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist 

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: Swearing

Tag list: @Mikinyi @justaproudslytherpuff @angelicjinwoo @k12baby @spiderman-berries​ @ruhro7​ @justanotherhappyidiot @dontcallmesavvy @kenzi-woycehoski​ @gh0stm3g​ @lagataprrr @spencersbookbag @ygrworld @ambernicole90 @alwaysbeenfamous @angelsarecallin @voteforevilthoughts @iameddiemunsonshair @hellf1reclub DM me if you wanna be on the Eddie tag list!:)

Synopsis: When Y/N realises that Eddie was hiding in the girls locker room, she has the decision to out him or believe him that it was all just a big misunderstanding

Afficher davantage

me, seeing someone left me a comment: screaming, running around the room in circles, kicking my feet up in the air, jumping up and down, giggling to myself, squealing, wiggling, dancing around...

me, replying to someone's comment: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

SLOW AUTUMN MORNING - EDDIE MUNSON

summary: you get to spend a very slow autumn morning with your favourite person

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

words: 1k

warnings: none, except for fluff (cuddling, kissing)

notes: i'm in my autumn mood. + I've seen these photos of joe today and I just had to write something about our boy eddie.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. They tried to adjust to the morning light as an almost inaudible yawn escaped your lips. You stretched your arms and legs until you rolled to your side and were suddenly met with an empty bed.

You raised your eyebrows lightly as you sat up properly in bed, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. A quick glance around the room confirmed your suspicion that you were alone, however, a comforting smell entered your nose, making you smile.

Coffee. Someone was making coffee, and you knew exactly who it was.

You threw your bedcover away from your body as your legs swung to the side and slid into your slippers. You got up from your bed and stretched your arms one more time.

It was a bit chilly, so you grabbed a sweater from the floor and slipped it over your head. It immediately warmed you up. You looked out of the window and noticed the raindrops on it, as well as the fog that prevented you from looking any further than a few metres. It felt comfortable. Autumn was finally here.

You put your hair up with a hairband that you kept around your wrist during the night in case it would annoy you before you finally made your way out of the bedroom.

The smell of coffee came closer and closer until you finally saw a mug full of black goodness on the kitchen counter. You wrapped both your hands around the mug. You moved it closer to your mouth, ready to taste the coffee when all of a sudden you noticed that the person who had made you this coffee wasn't even around.

You furrowed your eyebrows and scrunched up your nose while you looked around the trailer. There was no sign of your boyfriend. You tried to remember whether he had told you about some plans for today, but nothing came to mind.

You just wanted to turn around and search for Eddie when you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around you. A bright smile placed itself on your lips as your back met his front. You felt him press a soft kiss on top of your head. Luckily, you had put your mug down or else you would have dropped it by now.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”, your boyfriend whispered in your ear, placing a few sweet kisses down your neck.

Your eyes were closed while you enjoyed Eddie’s touch. His lips made you feel alive whenever they touched your skin. You slowly turned around and cupped his cheeks with your hands.

“Good morning.”

You leaned in and pressed your lips on his. A soft moan left Eddie’s lips as he deepened the kiss almost immediately. His hands landed on your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. Your hands glided from his cheeks down to his shoulders, which you squeezed gently before you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with his long curls.

“Good morning indeed.”, your boyfriend mumbled against your lips, pressing a few more kisses to them. You couldn’t help but giggle once he squeezed your waist a bit more. He knew you were ticklish there hence you tried to push him away from you, luckily succeeding in it.

“Thank you for the coffee.”, you told him honestly, turning around to take the mug into your hand and finally take a sip of it. The black liquid filled your whole body with heat.

“No problem. I’m glad it’s still hot.”, he mentioned, kissing your temple gently before he made his way over to the couch.

“I was a bit worried you were gone. It was too quiet in here.”

You put your drink down on the counter again before you walked over to the couch, sitting down right next to your boyfriend, who grabbed your legs and put them on his lap, pulling you even closer to him.

“I have no plans for today. And to be honest, when I look outside, I don’t really want to leave.”

You nodded your head, taking another glance out of the window, and although everyone else would hate this weather, you enjoyed it. It made you feel calm.

“Then let’s just stay inside. I could bake us something delicious, while I do that you can play your guitar. And we can watch some movies later. I still have some in my bag. Don’t tell Steve, though. He would kill me if he knew I still got them.”, you confessed, making both of you laugh lightly.

“My lips are sealed. Harrington will never find out.”, Eddie promised before he leaned in and pressed another sweet kiss on your lips.

You took one of the blankets from the couch, throwing it over yourself and your boyfriend while you cuddled up to him even more, your head finding a spot on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you. The young man next to you pressed a gentle kiss on top of your head.

“For now, I don’t really want to move though.”

Eddie’s body shook lightly from chuckling, his hand caressing your arm while he nodded his head. If he could, he would stay like this forever. The only thing he needed was you, maybe food, something to drink and a bathroom break, but nothing else. Ever since he first saw you, he knew that you would be his. His everything. He was head over heels in love with you. Dustin sometimes teased him about it, but Eddie didn’t care. He would show his love for you whenever, wherever, and however he wanted.

“How about a morning nap? I think we’re both not fully awake yet.”

The only thing you could do was nod your head. Your eyes were already closed, and you felt yourself slip into dreamland again. You felt Eddie’s lips on your head before you fell asleep again.

You loved slow mornings, especially when you got to spend them with your lover. Didn’t matter if you were awake or not, the only thing that mattered was that you were keeping each other company.

yk when i think about it my life's ridiculous. i dont even have friends, nobody loves me so im here reading fckng fanfiction of dude who does not even exist and i fuckng love you all for writing these you dont seem to realise how fckng much i love you, some of you are really talented wtf i love you

The devil works hard but fanfic writers work harder

Ps. Y’all are amazing and the most creative writers ❤︎. keep up the amazing work ✩