dweeb queen

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Leftovers

Oh hey! Bit of a different one today, this is my first fic about Peter Parker so I hope you guys enjoy. I am open to prompts! so send those in! I am also open to anyone just dropping by and talking about how great peter parker and/or tom holland is.

summary: on their way home from dinner, Peter and Y/n are attacked by a mugger. Peter has to decide between revealing his identity and fighting back, or giving in and preserving his secret. Third person, but mostly Peter’s perspective.

length: 1.6k

warnings: violence, swearing, guns

~~

The soft glow of the storefronts and neon signs shed light on the busy sidewalk, and two more shadows appear on the concrete as they step out of a busy restaurant, two bags of leftovers hanging around Peter’s wrist. He takes Y/n’s hand and smiles at her as they make their way home. Looking up, he sees throngs of rowdy people making their way toward the subway, all wearing similar jerseys and some wearing blue and orange face paint.

“Hey, go Mets!” Peter shouts, and about a dozen people cheer in response. Y/n turns toward him and shakes her head fondly.

“Did you even know there was a baseball game today?” she chuckles, and Peter looks scandalized.

“I’ll have you know that I did, in fact,” Peter replies, “I may be a dweeb but I’m a dweeb from Queens!” At the mention of the borough, several Mets fans in the vicinity whoop and one of them gives Peter a high five.

“Well, being a Brooklyn gal myself, I was not aware there was a Mets game today,” Y/n defends with a laugh, and Peter joins her.

“Y’know, I got beat up by a guy from Brooklyn once,” he says with a theatrical glance around, as though it’s a secret.

“Ooh,” Y/n replies seriously, nodding her head. “Please tell me you at least got a few good hits in.”

“Oh, totally, you shoulda seen him. I sent him and his friend running. Haven’t heard from them since.” He patted his hands together as if he’d just finished taking out the trash, the leftovers from dinner swinging back and forth from his wrist in their plastic bags.

She bursts out laughing. “You are such a dork, Peter Parker,” she says, and he concedes with a shrug, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders and planting a kiss on her cheek. They keep walking in sync down the city blocks, still illuminated by the brightly lit shops, until the crowd of baseball fans disappears into the subway and the glow of the storefronts becomes dimmer, and Peter’s arm around Y/n gets slightly tense. He listens closely to the air around them, trying not to look alarmed, but he can’t help it. There are no people on this street. There’s never no people on the street. This is New York.

He glances at the street sign as they cross the road, paying no mind to the blinking red hand. Only a few more blocks, and then they’ll be home. They’re almost there.

The hairs on his arm stand up and he feels someone rushing at them from behind—he grabs Y/n and pulls her out of the way just as a large, meaty fist swings at the place Peter’s head just was. A large man stumbles and straightens, turning to face them. He’s wearing a Mets jersey and thick blue and orange face paint, so it’s hard to see details of his appearance in the dim light. Peter shoves Y/n behind him and shields her, the leftovers of their dinner still hanging from his arm, as the man steps toward them.

Shit, shit, shit!

He can’t just change into his suit now, the guy’s seen his face. And Y/n doesn’t know! She cannot find out. She can’t. It wouldn’t be safe for her to know.

“I don’t want any trouble,” the man grumbles in an almost comically low voice, and Peter would make fun of him if he were wearing his mask right now. But he’s not. He’s just Peter Parker. “I just want your wallets,” he says, and he eyes Peter up and down. “And your jacket.”

“What? Dude, this would not complement your figure,” Peter blurts. He can’t help himself. His jacket is the only thing covering up his web shooters.

“Peter!” Y/n whisper-screams, pulling her wallet out of her purse and beginning to hand it over with shaking fingers, but Peter grabs her wrist and shakes his head.

“You don’t have to give him anything, Y/n,” he says firmly, and Y/n’s eyes are wide as the man steps even closer to them.

“I don’t wanna hit a lady,” he chuckles, and Peter stands as tall and defiant as he can, only coming up to the man’s chest.

“You won’t have to.”

“Peter, c’mon, just—just do what he says—” Y/n begs as the man throws his head back in laughter. Peter sets their food on the ground and glares up at the mugger, whose laughter subsides as he smiles down at the teenager in front of him. He swings his fist but Peter dodges it easily, pushing Y/n further out of the way despite her desperate protests.

Okay, Peter, no web shooters. Just some gentle punches, he thinks to himself as he dodges more sloppy swinging fists. The mugger begins to pant slightly and Peter frowns. Am I being too quick? I should let him get a punch in, he thinks, and braces for impact as the man’s knuckles collide with his cheekbone, sending him back a few steps.

“Shit!” he hisses, hand rubbing his cheek; the man grins before rushing him again, and Peter can’t help it. He hits the guy harder than he had meant to and knocks him back onto the pavement, and he sees Y/n’s eyes flick between him and the man on the ground, surprised.

The mugger stands up quickly and looks even angrier than before, running at Peter again and trying to land another punch, but he’s met with Peter’s palm instead, which stops his fist completely. Peter watches in slow motion as a ripple moves up the man’s arm to his shoulder, where a sickening crack sounds through the night. The man screams and cradles his arm, looking at Peter with a new expression.

Shit, shit, shit!

“Okay, this is getting out of hand,” Peter says nervously. “Just let us go and I’ll… let you live,” he tries, but it sounds so stupid coming out of his mouth that he can’t help but laugh at himself. Y/n and the mugger look at him incredulously. “Okay, okay, dude, I’m not gonna kill you, but—but you should definitely seek medical attention for that arm. I—I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean for the, y’know, the whole dislocation situation—

Peter!” Y/n shrieks, and Peter looks behind the mugger, preparing a witty one-liner, but his words die in his throat when he sees a glint of metal next to her head. A second mugger, also wearing heavy face paint, is holding a gun against her temple with a hard expression.

Peter puts his hands up slowly, cautiously. “Okay. Okay. Here,” he says, reaching for his wallet. The gun twitches against Y/n’s head and Peter shakes his head quickly. “I’m just getting my wallet. It’s okay. Just—just don’t—” he takes a shuddering breath. “Don’t hurt her.”

“No promises, little man,” the second guy says with a sneer. Peter takes out his wallet and hands it to the first mugger before immediately putting his hands in the air again.

“Okay,” he says. “You have our wallets. Just let her go.”

The first guy, arm still swinging limply by his side, but confidence returned, smiles at Peter. “I asked for your jacket.”

Peter’s heart thumps against his ribcage. If he takes off his jacket, he’ll reveal his web shooters, and three people will know who he is. He looks desperately at the first mugger, who only smiles wider. The one with the gun presses it menacingly against Y/n’s head again and her expression is desperate and confused, probably wondering why he gave up his wallet so easily but is so reluctant to take his crappy, second-hand jacket off.

He sighs and lowers his head, shrugging off his jacket. It slides slowly down his arms, revealing his geometric pizza tee shirt, and he pauses when the sleeves bunch around his wrists.

Three people. Three people will find out who you are.

Peter gazes at Y/n, eyes apologetic, before whipping the jacket off and immediately webbing up the gun before the mugger can react. He makes a surprised noise and then he’s met with another web; this one pins him to the wall behind them as Peter picks up the bigger guy and slams him against the wall too, sticking him there with a substantial amount of webs as he hears Y/n sputter in the background. He shoots smaller webs onto the muggers’ mouths so they can’t yell before turning slowly around to face her.

Her eyes are huge and her mouth is agape, and Peter rushes over to catch her before she falls down onto her shaking knees.

“Y/n, are you okay? Are you okay?”

“Peter, what the… what the fuck?!” she breathes, and he can’t help the slight smile that overtakes his features. He snaps his fingers, remembering something, and hurries over to pick up their leftovers from dinner, still sitting undisturbed on the ground. He grabs their wallets before holding out his hand for her to take.

“We should really get going, Y/n,” he says as her fingers interlock with his, and he turns back to the muggers stuck to the wall. “I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this quiet, guys,” he tries, and their eyes flare with anger. “Uh, or else.” He shoots another web at them for good measure and takes off running with Y/n in tow.

“Peter, what’s—wait! Peter,” Y/n pants, fingers still clutching onto his hand as she follows him through the streets.

“Y/n, I promise, I’ll tell you everything,” Peter replies, glancing behind him with a grin, “But we really need to get these leftovers into the fridge.”

In the land of the dead after Red Queen...
  • Coriane: I knew it, I knew it. That Maven was a trouble maker from the start.
  • Tiberias VI: Hey don't look at me! He gets it from the Merandus side of the family.
  • Merandus Ancestor: He's just trying to take over the kingdom!
  • Jessamine Jacos: But if he is discovered, the Calore family will be forever shamed! Dishonor will come to the family. Traditional values with disintegrate!
  • Lucas: Not to mention we'll lose the kingdom.
  • Tiberias V: My other grandson never caused such trouble. He became a respected general!
  • Merandus Ancestor: well we can't ALL be respected generals!
  • Coriane: No! Your descendants had to be murderous traitors!
4

SUPANOVA MELBOURNE 2015!!!

So I met:
Sean Maguire - Robin Hood in OUAT
Georgina Haig - Elsa in OUAT
Tyler Hoechlin - Derek Hale in Teen Wolf
Bob Morley - Bellamy Blake in The 100

OMG I HAVE NEVER FAN GIRLED OUT LOUD IN MY LIFE TILL TODAY! I usually tend to hide it since I’d freak people out but I did after my photo op with Bob! Essentially this is how it went

Me: *walks into photo booth* “hey Bell!”
Bob: “hey!”
*photos taken*
Me: “Thank You!”
Bob: “see you later O!”
Me: *dead*
I literally ran out of the booth jumping up and down going “he called me O!!!!!” (Yer I was cosplaying Octavia)

Happy early New Year ✿*∗˵╰༼✪ᗜ✪༽╯˵∗*✿
It’s about to be this blog’s 2 year anniversary, and I’ve also just hit 3,000 followers, yeehaw thx for staying even after I became Hamilton trash. I thought It’d be cool to celebrate with another follow forever, since the last one I did was for the 1,500 follower goal a few months ago. Maybe I’ll do one every 1,500 follower milestone. We’ll see.

Anyways,
Bold most reblogged from (based on xkit Tumblr Crushes feature)
Italics are mutuals - I might miss a few & I’m sorry if I do

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@-eruris  @2dsheep

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Jack accidentally texts Hiccup thinking he's texting his best friend, Aster, about his crush, Hiccup. Love your writing!

ok! Sorry for the wait anon, my friend didn’t infore me on these auditions I had to do, i am getting called back anyway and *lesigh* 

Well here you go!

edit:

I had just realized anon who asked me this thank you for liking my writing ;w; I didn’t say it at first because I was so excited to post this 

If Hiccup wasn’t able to sleep not he just shouldn’t even try.

He had gotten someone texting him late at night over something important but at the same time hadn’t checked where the messages were going. Hiccup groaned at the continuous buzzing and wondering if he should tell the poor human they had the wrong number. He sighed and finally turned on the phone and blinked out the light to glare at the offending texts that seemed to stop.

Well it was a one sided, given Hiccup wanted the other to figure out he had the wrong number. Hiccup reached over and pulled his glasses on to text the other back not really bothering to read to the text. Only something caught his eye in the body of the text that had him scrolling to the top to find the context.

It was about him.

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