GIRL GET BACK UP HE’S NOT AARON TAYLOR JOHNSON AND WERE NOT DOING THIS TO OURSELF AGAIN NO

sweet

peter parker x reader

summary: two times that peter parker is the sweetest boyfriend

“Y/N!” Peter hisses, knocking his knee into yours under the desk. 

“What?” you whisper, not peeling your attention away from the board as you furiously copy down the notes. 

“I’m bored.” he says sheepishly as you roll your eyes. 

“Why don’t you maybe, focus on the lesson?” you suggest. 

Peter groans dramatically and lays his head on top of his notebook. 

“I know it all already.” he shrugs, leaning over and digging through your pencil case. 

“Well we can’t all be geniuses,” you say as you flip the page and continue scribbling. “Some of us are gonna fail the test on radioactive substances if you don’t shut up and let me write.”

“I’m radioactive,” he rolls his eyes. “I’ll tutor you before the test.”

He settles on a red pen from your pencil case and twirls it between his fingers, clicking it on and off repeatedly. 

“Peter!” you mutter. “That is infuriating.”

“Sorry,” he grins at you, happy to have your attention for a moment, and sighing when you turn away, frowning at an especially lengthy paragraph in the textbook you and Peter were supposed to be sharing. 

He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls it in front of him, turning your arm palm-up. You ignore him as you read, attempting to understand the subject. You feel a slight tickling sensation of your wrist accompanied by the pressure of Peter’s hands as he hooks his arm around yours to give himself better access to you. 

…emission of alpha particles, or conversion of neutrons to protons or the reverse… 

You sigh, pushing the book away from you with your free hand. It’s impossible to concentrate with the tickling sensation on your wrist.

“Peter,” you hiss one last time. “What are you doing?”

Peter freezes, blinking like a deer in the headlights when you tip your gaze to where he’s working on your wrist. Inked onto the skin just below your palm in red ballpoint pen is a tiny, slightly lopsided heart. Leaning closer, you can make out a little ‘P’ entwined with your own first initial. 

“Aw, Pete,” you whisper, quickly kissing his cheek ever so softly to avoid the glare of the teacher at the front. “It’s so sweet. You’re so sweet.”

Peter scrunches up his nose in response to your compliment, relishing the moment of attention from you he’d craved in a boring class. 

“No,” he begins sweetly. “You’re-” “Parker!” below the teacher. Peter’s ears turned red as the whole class turned to glare at him. “Are you taking notes or are you just distracting Miss Y/L/N?”

Peter shrinks away from you, picking up the red pen and pretending to make notes. 

You giggle, resuming your own work but not before nudging him underneath the table and pulling a face, earning yourself the sweetest grin from him. 

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

7:25am. Friday. 

The incessant buzzing of your phone pulls you out of your dozing and you groan, picking it up blearily - only answering because you know exactly who’s calling. He calls at this time every school morning. 

“Good morning my love,” he says cheerily. You can hear the faint beeping and honking of early morning traffic from his end of the line, proof that he’s out on his morning patrol like usual. 

Your only reply is a sleepy ‘hhmf’ as you snuggle back into the duvet warding off the chilly New York morning. 

“It’s time to get up, baby.” Peter says right on cue. 

“But I’m so sleepy and cozy,” you protest. “I absolutely cannot get up for school.”

Peter chuckles, preparing himself for the sleepy argument you two have every morning when he calls to make sure you’re getting up. 

“If you don’t get up and come to school, I won’t get to see you today.” he points out and you can almost hear the playful pout on his face as he speaks softly, knowing you’re still half asleep. 

“You can come over after,” you say. “Imagine how chatty and cheerful I’ll be then when I’m fully rested.”

Peter shakes his head, resting on the rooftop of an apartment block. From his point of view he’s just across the street from your apartment and he can see your bedroom window, blinds still drawn to block out the morning rays. 

“If you get up and come to school today, I’ll take you to that do-it-yourself pottery place after. They don’t close until six on a Friday.” he bargains. 

You gasp. 

“Lots of Pots?” you ask. “Can we make mugs for each other again?”

Peter chuckles, already picturing adding the new addition to the collection of multi-colored mugs you’d made for him and May so far. 

“This is all conditional on you getting up, though.” he reminds you. 

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” you say as you kick the duvet off and make no move to stand up. 

“No, you’re not,” Peter sighs as your blind doesn’t lift. “Looks like I’m swinging over then,” he says as he pushes himself to his feet. “Be at your window in a second or I’m breaking in and tipping you out of bed.”

Peter calling you after morning patrol to make sure you’re getting up for school had become routine over the few months of your relationship, usually ending up with him coming over and pulling your pajama-clad body out of bed before he himself would get changed into the school clothes of his he kept in your closet and making sure you both got out the door in time. And he loved it. 

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it really helps a writer out <3

bro finally someone who understands 😩

Forgot for a second how hot richard madden was but praise be to god a gif of his fine self just blessed my dash... i am bi of sexual indead

NO HE'S BACK 😣

@babsworlds stumbling upon this was the best part of my day today!

SCHOOL STRUGGLES.

pairing. Dave Lizewski x fem! reader

synopsis. you struggle with school a lot, but no matter what, your boyfriend is always here for you.

warnings. angst, mental struggles, school struggles, no use of y/n. I decided to mirror my own problems into this fic. I struggle with school, and if you do too, you’re not alone, don’t be afraid of asking for help!

FOR SEVERAL LONG MONTHS, you’d been struggling with every aspect of school—grades teetering on the edge, studying feeling like an impossible task, and attendance becoming a burden you couldn’t bear.

Each night you went to sleep with hope and wishes to never wake up again, but when you woke up every morning, it was disappointing.

Your mind was locked in a dark place, a mental block that kept you from focusing on anything related to school. Books and assignments became like foreign objects, strange and impossible to engage with.

Most days, you found yourself wandering aimlessly, going anywhere other than the dreaded classrooms. School turned into a place you despised, filled with people you disliked, teachers who seemed to drain your energy with every word, and the endless homework that left you completely exhausted.

Dave, your ever-supportive boyfriend, noticed the change in you. He worried endlessly about your constant absence, knowing how much you were skipping school. He tried his best to help, offering to walk to classes with you, hoping that his presence could make it a bit easier. But despite his best efforts, nothing seemed to change, and your steps continued to stray from the school’s doors.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere at home grew tense and filled with arguments. Your parents’ patience was wearing thin as they saw you neglecting your only responsibility: school. “You only have to focus on school,” they’d remind you in every heated argument. Their anger and disappointment hung heavy in the air, making the walls of your home feel like they were closing in on you.

You were exhausted from failing every test, overwhelmed by the looming dread of yet another academic setback. Despite the frustration and disappointment you felt, the motivation to study remained elusive. It was an endless circle of anxiety and avoidance, a cycle that seemed impossible to break.

It was a late weekend night, and you found yourself on a video call with Dave. Your parents had forbidden you from going to his house for a sleepover because of your poor grades, adding to your already heavy heart.

“I’m so sorry, Dave,” you began to apologize, your voice heavy with emotion. “I feel like shit,” you said, gazing at your boyfriend on the notebook screen.

“Don’t say that, baby,” Dave tried to calm you down, his voice soothing and gentle. But the words did little to stem the tide of salty tears forming in your eyes. “I’m stupid,” you admitted, “and because of my grades, we can’t have a sleepover.”

Dave’s expression softened, his concern evident. “You’re not stupid,” he reassured you. “We’ll get through this together. It’s just a rough patch, and it doesn’t define you.”

The weight of your struggles pressed heavily on your heart, driving tears down your cheeks. “I wish I could just disappear. I wouldn’t care about the absence or grades,” you cried out, the hopelessness in your voice stark and raw. You wished everything would just end right then and there.

Dave’s eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “You know what, baby? I’m coming over. Just leave your window open,” he announced, his grin widening with excitement.

“Your parents forbade you from coming to my place, but they didn’t say anything about me coming to yours,” he smirked, always looking for ways to find a loophole and support his precious girlfriend.

“No, Dave, you really don’t have to—” you started to assure him, but he was already set on his plan. He hung up the call quickly, not giving you a chance to protest.

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope at his determination. As you left your window open for him, a small sliver of comfort crept into your heart.

Dave lived just two blocks away, so it didn’t take him long to reach your house. After a few minutes, you heard noises outside your window and spotted Dave climbing in.

“Hi, baby,” Dave smiled at you, pulling you into a tight, welcoming hug. “I missed you so much,” you whispered into his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace as he kissed your hair.

You both sat on your bed, and once again, salty tears began to stream down your face. “I’m so shitty, why am I so stupid?” you choked on your tears, sobbing violently into Dave’s chest. “I’m a shitty student, daughter, girlfriend…”

Dave broke the tight hug and looked into your eyes. “Don’t ever say that again,” he warned gently but firmly. His eyes were filled with concern and determination, wanting to help you see the worth you couldn’t find in yourself.

“Just because you’re struggling now doesn’t mean it’s forever. You’re a smart girl. I know it,” Dave started, his thumb gently rubbing your cheeks.

“And I’m not exactly an academic weapon, but if you need help with studying, I’ll do my best to help you, baby,” he continued, his voice filled with unwavering support and love.

“I love you and I’m always here for you,” Dave said, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Those were the words you needed to hear.

“Tomorrow we can go for a walk, and on Monday, we can try to get you back into school,” Dave offered, gently tucking a strand of your long hair behind your ear.

“I love you,” you replied, pulling him into a hug once again, feeling a sense of comfort and hope in his embrace.

girls will have one (1) good day when they convince themselves they've never been unwell in their life and the next day the horrors will return

just wanting to prove a quick point here. reblog if you believe loki is a complex, well-developed, three-dimensional character who didn’t deserve to be killed in the first 5 minutes of the movie. let’s see how many we are

when harry styles said “leave america”. he was so right

harry's home

a/n: inspired by the beginning of 'As it Was': "Come on, Harry, we wanna say “Goodnight” to you".

Summary: Harry arrives home late, now he has to deal with the wrath of his 3 year old.

Warnings: none! domestic fluff?

Pairings: Dad!Harry x black!reader (doesn't mean the exception can't read)

-

It’s 10:05pm when Harry finally walks through the door of his home. He knew everyone would be asleep by now, so he’ll have to settle with giving a kiss on the head to a sleeping Mara, his three year old. And a cuddle with his sleeping wife. Once she knocks out, she knocks out.

The light in the living-room is left on by her, but other than that it’s as silent as a mouse.

He’s just ecstatic to be home. Any time he walks through the door, it's like his soul can take a deep breath, breathing in how tranquil it’ll always be. He hangs his keys on the key rack; his coat goes in the small closet, and shoes on the shelf there.

Once he’s finished, he sighs contentedly, dropping his hands to sit on his hips. Smiling as he looks around at the place — leaving his suitcase on the floor— that was created home alongside his loving, tactful wife, as a result of giving them Mara.

The never-ending photos on the wall in the living-room make him naturally smile.

Their wedding day: where Harry holds both their hands up in cheer as they walk down the aisle, eyes never breaking contact. Mara’s first birthday: her face covered to the rim with icing as she smiles, her father’s smile, and holds up both hands trying to get a hand on the camera in curiosity. A very, very old, blurry picture of y/n and Harry at his first concert. They were 16 and always took the time to cringe at their choices of wardrobe.

Mara’s knickknacks are all over the floor.

When he yawns, he knows it’s time to hurry up, get ready for bed before he drops dead on the floor. That is definitely not how he’d like his family to see him first thing in the morning after not being here for a week.

He grabs his suitcase by the handle and heads upstairs.

When he hits the first step, he looks up, realizing something is off. His three-year-old sits on the top step, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Baby, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“Mara is upset with daddy,” she answers, clipped.

Her plump lips form duck lips with how upset she is, causing her cheeks to puff out even more than they do. Eyes glared at her father. He can also see the glisten on her skin, knowing her mother has dipped her in a bottle of Aquaphor. She’s dressed in her new Encanto sleep dress. Her new obsession. Her curls are braided down in two plait braids. He assumes, but her lavender, silk bonnet blocks him from seeing.

He has no idea how long she’s been waiting on the step for him. But he knows her sneaky little self waited until her mother fell asleep to do so.

“Why is my bunny upset with daddy?” He asks, he so terribly wants to climb up those stairs and throw her into his arms. But she’s upset and doesn’t like physical affection while being so.

“Daddy, you said a week. It’s been years!” She squalls, her eyes go wide at her admission.

“It’s been exactly seven days, what calendar are you looking at?”

“You were 'upposed to be home with the sun!”

“I know, but there were many mess ups today.”

“Mara is upset with daddy,” she parrots, standing up. Sweeping over his reasoning, it didn’t matter what happened, when Mara expected her father home; she expected to see him then.

“Daddy is sorry and he hasn’t seen Mara in a week, and he would really, really love it if he could give you a hug and kiss.”

She considers it, her forefinger bouncing off her chin and her right foot tapping on the floor. It feels like forever, but within thirty seconds she nods her head, yes, stands up, and leaves her arms open and out.

No matter what Harry thought, his two girls would always run him.

He gleams as he shifts up those stairs at lightning speed, and growls lightly when he picks her up and sits her in his arms, like a swing. The front of her legs against his chest, bum sat on his arms, and her arms hook around his neck.

She laughs at the tickles he sends to her side.

“Daddy missed you so much, sweet pea” he kisses all over her face. It’s been a week since he’s seen her cherub face in person; he doesn’t know how he’ll do months at a time.

“How much?”

“Oh, that’s a tough question,” he murmurs. “Hmm… is a penny big?”

“No,” she laughs.

“You’re right, how about a button?”

“Daddy, you’re silly,” she laughs harder.

He snaps his finger, eyes going wide like a daffy scientist. “You wanna know how much I missed you?” He knows she wants to know oh so badly.

She nods eagerly.

“The size… of the… moon!” He throws her in the air once, catches her, before he tickles, watching her charged body squirm around. Her tiny hands try with her all might to push his hands away.

“Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!” She laughs, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

They both laugh once he stops and she rests herself against his chest. Her glare, pouty mouth, and crossed demeanor are long gone. Mara holds onto her father tightly; some fingers in her right hand playing with his ear lobe-- her finger rattles his drop earring-- something she’s picked up from her mother.

“Daddy’s sorry he’s been gone a lot lately.” he whispers, rocking her softly and kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s okay, Daddy here now.” she slurs.

“I love you so much, bigger than the galaxy.”

“Infinity” the word comes out garbled, a tough one for her, but he understands it perfectly.

“Even that” he hums, his free hand running up and down her back.

“Daddy” Mara sits up from her position.

“Hm?”

Her hands rest on his scruffy cheeks. “I’m sorry for being upset at you. ‘Didn’t mean it.” Her eyes look up into his as her bottom lip pops out. “I just wanted to say ‘night”

“Hey, there’s no need for that, alright.” He kisses her nose. “If that’s how you feel then that’s fine, I’m proud you talked to me about it”

She smiles at his assurance, before she rests back against him.

“Night, night”

“Goodnight, baby”

He rocks her to sleep, in the dimly lit hallway, just them two in the middle of the night. It’s things like this that he cherishes.

Before he grasps it, she snores lightly. Mouth hung slightly open. He walks into her lavender room: sets her in her big girl Princess bed, tucks her in, fixes her bonnet, and kisses her cheek, then her nose before he whispers a good night.

He checks his watch to see it’s 10:35. Yep, she’ll definitely be Oscar the Grouch in the morning.

He looks at her one more time before he retreats into his shared bedroom. His first stop is his bed. Where, peacefully, his other half sleeps. The blanket covered her nose. Her arms lay under her head, and from the small peek he can see of her shoulder, she’s wearing his favorite nightie.

He was meant to be here mid-afternoon but problem after problem arose, delaying his trip home.

He walks towards her figure and kisses her cheek; Goes in the closet to gather his sleeping clothes (a pair of sweats) and heads to the bathroom to wash up.

Once he’s out of the shower, smelling like vanilla. He walks out and shimmies behind your body. Of course, you’re still out like a light.

His tattooed arm rests over your torso and his leg fits right in between yours. He breathes in your hair through your bonnet. Manuka honey has become his favorite thing since you’ve used it.

It reminds him of home. You remind him of home. His little one reminds him of home.

-

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