Disclaimer: These are works of fiction that bear no resemblance to reality and claims no knowledge of the people about whom they are written.
I write to feed my crazy imaginative mind, with the plus that some other people might enjoy it too. English isn't my first language, so... Be nice! masterlist
āAre you hurt?āĀ
āNo.āĀ
āThen why are there bruises all over your face?ā
pairing:Ā peter x reader. pure fluff. pre-homecoming.
--
Ā Ā Ā Ā It was late at night - very, very late, as in late almost morning - and Peter had one very important decision to make: would he climb to his window like An Actual Superhero or would he be A Normal Human Being and take the elevator?
Ā Ā Ā Climbing Like A Superhero pros: his hands were sticky.
(Thanks, radioactive spider!)
Ā Ā Ā Cons: his body hurt, he was out of web fluid, he may have been stabbed...? and for fucks sake would he die if he just took the elevator for once?
Ā Ā Ā So he changed to his regular clothes on the back alley of his apartment building and hurried in the (empty, amen!) lobby as fast as he could, slumping against the elevator door in pain as soon as its doors opened.Ā
Ā Ā Ā āHold it!ā He heard someone yell.Ā
Ā Ā Ā āFuck. Fuck fuck fuckā, Peter mumbled not knowing if he should first finish zipping his backpack (a little bit of red sleeve poking out), wipe the blood running from his nose (again) or keep pressing the wound (maybe stab wound? Or was it just a knife graze? Either way, his aunt would kill him if she saw blood on him) on his stomach in case someone walked in.
Ā Ā Ā Or he could do neither of those things and not hold it...?
(Heād be a shitty neighbor.)
(But he did have maybe a broken nose and maybe a stab wound and one of his ankles hurt like shit so he wasnāt having the best night/day so maybe just maybe he could be a shitty neighbor and itād be okay?)
Ā Ā Ā So he didnāt āhold itā, pressing the button of his floor nervously over and over again until...
Ā Ā Ā A girl, correct that, his cute, older neighbor, you!, cleared your throat, muttering a āthanksā sarcastically looking a little disheveled, a little out of breath, and obviously a little angry, as your weird neighbor, Peter Parker, broke basically the number one rule on āGood Neighboring: Apartment Editionā: thou shall always hold the door when someone yells hold it, or some shit like that.
Ā Ā Ā Peter Parker had always been your weird little neighbor: every single time youād run into one another (whether at the hallway, or lobby, or elevator), heād stutter something about the weather, or drop whatever he was holding, or just act like he was in some kind of pain, like now.
Ā Ā Ā You almost never saw him around anymore, so much you asked your mom if heād gone to college or moved out.Ā
(Your mom thought it was cute you noticed. Cute. Like you had a crush on him. A crush on your younger, weird neighbor, Peter Parker.)
(Scoff.)
(She asked his aunt May and she simply said it was a coincidence.)
(You just thought it was weird. Youād always been running into one another in the elevator and then bam: never again.)Ā
(Was he now one of those creepy people addicted to exercises that only took the stairs?)
Ā Ā Ā You noticed him eyeing you, and you were obviously coming back from a party - judging by your messy hair, and makeup and outfit (or maybe you just dressed in sparkly dresses every Saturday at four am and ran for a mile around the block?) and the smell of alcohol emanating from your body.
(No spidey sense needed for that, he would be able to smell that with regular, human senses.)Ā
(Maybe you liked your alcohol or maybe you had a gallon of beer thrown at you, heād never know.)
Ā Ā Ā Peter prayed to God youād be drunk enough to not noticed how tightly he was holding his stomach when you turned to him and asked:
Ā Ā Ā āAre you hurt?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āN-no.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āThen why are there bruises all over your face?ā
Ā Ā Ā āI-I... fell?ā He stammered again, and one of your eyebrows raised.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Boy looked like heād just got the shit beaten out of him and he was going to use the āoh I fellā excuse?
Ā Ā Ā āFell? Down three flights of stairs, got hit on the face with a frying pan and attacked by rabid dogs?ā You replied, motioning at his bloodied face, and now that you noticed, body.Ā
Bloodied body.Ā
Ā Ā Ā There was blood stain on the hem of his white shirt. Holy fuck.
Ā Ā Ā You both got to your floor.Ā
Ā Ā Ā And with the ring of the elevator, came the obvious: āDid you get mugged?!ā
Ā Ā Ā Fun fact about you: you were very good at acting on crisis that didnāt involve, well, you!
Ā Ā Ā You felt the alcohol evaporate from your veins as you took another good look at him, pulling Peter into the hallway āI heard thereās this group of muggers acting up a few blocks from here! Oh my God.ā
(Would he ever be able to tell you he got into this state exactly trying to beat up said muggers?)
Ā Ā Ā āI did? I did. I did!ā He replied, cringing when you tried to take a better look at his nose, the dingy hallway not the best place for a medical examination āShit that hurts.ā
Ā Ā Ā āI think we should go to the hospital.ā You held his chin tightly, trying to keep him from moving his face around so much āIāve had my fair share of soccer balls to the nose and this doesnāt look so good.ā
Ā Ā Ā āDoesnāt feel so good either.ā Peter grumbled, and he felt his cheeks getting redder. Could be the pain, could be the fact that the neighbor girl he had a crush on since he was around thirteen was examining his face closer than heād ever thought possible and damn heād imagined that lot āI-I canāt go to the hospital.ā He whispered āI, ahm, Aunt May doesnāt know Iām out. Sheāll get mad and worried and I donāt want that?āĀ
Ā Ā Ā He had to stop saying every sentence like it was a question.Ā
Ā Ā Ā He had to, if he wanted to be yāknow, An Actual Superhero.
Ā Ā Ā Ā āI donāt know if sheāll be more worried about, ahm, me getting mugged or more mad about me sneaking out when she told me I couldnāt.ā Peter added, more firmly. You did seem convinced by his answer, so he wanted to shake his own hand in congratulations to himself.
Ā Ā Ā Dodging hospital bills and medical questions and getting a surprised look from you? Actual Superhero Stuff.
Ā Ā Ā Ā āNever thought of you as one to sneak around, Parker.ā You shook your head in disbelief, and yup, he definitely was going to shake his own hand as soon as he patched up his ab, iced his nose and took a look at his ankle, cause it was probably the first conversation you two ever had that ended up with you looking at him admiringly and not like he was some sort of lunatic.
(Not exactly his fault.)
(Before the bite he always got startled and nervous and awkward and after the bite it all became too much, his spidey senses, his feelings, all the smells, sounds...)
(One of the many reasons why he found easier to swing and or climb buildings than running into you in the middle of the hallway.)
Ā Ā Ā Freezing in your tracks in front of your apartment door, you decided to just ask him.
Ā Ā Ā Ask him the question that had been running through your head for a while now:
Ā Ā Ā āSo... is there a special reason why I never see you around in the elevator anymore?ā
Ā Ā Ā Peter choked. You seemed concerned for a bit, until he replied: āUh, I... I really like stairs now. Heard itās very good for your health.ā
Fuck. He was one of those stairs freaks. You shook your head, āBye, Peter. Get better soon.ā
(Just when you thought heād go from Weird Neighbor Peter to Cute Neighbor Peter.)
Ā Ā Ā You closed your door, and Peter let out a big sigh. Fuck. He needed to start using the elevator again.Ā
(Cause you were noticing his Weird Superhero Behavior, obviously.)
(Wait.)
(Did that mean you were noticing... him?)
Ā Ā Ā He definitely needed to start using the elevator again.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Climbing to his window like An Actual Superhero pros: his hands were sticky.
Ā Ā Ā Using the elevator like a normal human being pros: heād get to see you.
GABE SOS I MISS YOU AND YOUR STORIES SO MUCH!!! Please make my day/night/week/month/YEAR and post something new for us! Love you and hope you're having a great time! xoxo
hiiiii!!!!! i know I SUCK but i came out here to take the dust off and maybe post a lil something iām working on :ā)
letās pray my self steem allows me to ACTUALLY post something instead of thinking itās shitty and not posting at all lol
Right Hand (A Whoever You Want To Read It Story) - Part One
Ā (read the intro here)
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Part One: The Doom Of Her Love Life
The Doom of Her Love Life (damn, that sounded cool) started with a Christmas party, three bottles of wine and a heated debate.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Oh, and a famous guy.
Ā Ā Ā Ā The famous guy was kind of a big deal in the whole thing.
Ā Ā Ā Ā She had recently broken up with the latest (and possibly last) love of her life ā four weeks and counting, and damn, it had been a rollercoaster of emotions ā and she wanted to die when she was dragged to her best friendās stupid Christmas party.
Ā Ā Ā Ā A small gathering ā just a bunch of misfits who didnāt have a Family in LA or didnāt slash couldnāt fly our to be with their own on the Christian Holiday, all clumped up on Louiseās boyfriends bungalow on the outskirts of town.
Ā Ā Ā Ā At least, that was what her best friend had described it as.
Ā Ā Ā Ā The Real Deal?
Ā Ā Ā Ā The ābungalowā was a three storey mansion in the heart of Malibu and the ābunch of misfitsā were a collection of famous ass people who couldnāt spend Christmas time with their families because they were too busy shooting a movie or a TV show or promoting their latest multimillion product deal or recording a freakinā record to leave the city.
Ā Ā Ā Ā āOh, babe! Hey everyone, this is my very best friend, Mrs. Top-Notch Writer! Just Top-Notch for the more intimate!ā Louise, aka her lying bitch of a best friend was screaming on the top of her lungs, gathering everyoneās attention as she did so āSheās an up and coming journalist, soon to win a... Bafta?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āThatās for actors.ā She whispered, cheeks getting tomato red as she practically felt peopleās eyes analyzing her up and down.
Ā Ā Ā Ā āOh, nevermind.ā Louise huffed āLetās get you a drink and ooh, is that wine?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Her friend was a drunk sloppy fuck and half of her wanted to take care of her and the other half wanted to get drunker and sloppier.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Sensing that the yell from the hall was already some sort of greeting, she passed by the guests with yellow smiles and awkward nods, being dragged by the hand towards the kitchen, a slight sense of fear taking over her when she watched her friend stumble with the bottle opener.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āWaaait, let me help you with that, Lou.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The voice was deep and coming from someplace much higher behind her, and as she turned around she almost choked on her own saliva.
Ā Ā Ā Ā There he was.
Ā Ā Ā The Famous Guy.
Ā Ā Ā Ā With the dreamy eyes and the shiny as hell hair, right behind her, so close she could smell his expensive cologne and almost count the little stubble of beard on his chin.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Of course. Just when she had spent the night before crying literally on her phone as she watched her ex Instagram Stories with Louiseās account (lame, af) sheād have a meet-cute with Mr. Fuck His Hair Was So Shiny and His Eyes Were So Multicolored So Kaleidoscope Eyes And Damn She Was Staring And Now Heād Think She Was A Weirdo.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā She knew she had to act cool, so she nodded and turned her head to the other side so abruptly she almost broke her neck.
(Very cool indeed.)
(Cool as a cucumber.)
(That was certainly NOT cool.)
Ā Ā Ā Ā But she did have a ten year old niece who would murder puppies with her bare hands to be in the spot where she was right now, standing at a kitchen counter right beside him, who was struggling a bit to open the bottle of wine she (!) had brought, with his very own hands.
(Big hands, she might add.)
(Huge.)
Ā Ā Ā Ā After he did manage to open it ā gaining a squeal of joy from Louise ā he turned to her with a boyish smile (dimples, holy fuck, he had dimples and they were so close she could poke them), āAre you Mrs. Top-Notch Writer, the up and coming journalist who will win a Bafta?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āYup. One and only. You can call me Top-Notchā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Taking a sip of her wine, she almost spit it all out when her friend clapped her hands and spoke excitedly āOh, you guys have so much in common! You two just got dumped and screwed over by your exes! Thatās so fun. Talk it out! Yeah. Group therapy style!ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā After that one, instead of sip, she decided to chug the whole glass down.
Ā Ā Ā Ā And looking at him, she saw he did the same.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Yet that glass didnāt seem like enough.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Nope, after that reminder, they kinda had the same idea:
Ā Ā Ā Ā Drink from the bottle.
--
Ā Ā Ā Ā āBut have you tried Tinder? Tinder is like... A crucial step after a break-up.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āI thought about it but I think everyone would assume I was an imposter, yāknow.ā Oh right. She had forgotten about the whole Worldwide Famous Face thing āHave you?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āYup. Didnāt go anywhere though.ā Taking a huge gulp of her wine, she shrugged āSomething about meeting randos who may or may not be serial killers or organ traffickers sort of pulled me away from it.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āIām not giving up though.ā He said proudly, puffing his chest āI know sheās out there. Yāknow. The One.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā She scoffed, adding ā hoping it wouldnāt offend him but kinda knowing it would āDo you believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny too? Or only soul mates tickle your fancy?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āLove is real.ā He replied, seemed so certain it almost made her believe him āIāve lived it once, twice, thrice and Iāll live it again.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Scrunching her eyebrows, she muttered āIs that a song?ā to which he rolled his eyes dramatically, taking a large sip before stating āItās a fact.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āOh. You sweet summer child.ā She tsked āyou really donāt g-get it.ā She hiccuped, pointing a finger at his face ā at least she tought it was one finger, she was kinda seeing two āLove is an illusion. Itās fabricated. We think we love someone until we find someone better. Or they find someone better. And onto the next one it is. Thereās no such thing as āloveā in our generation. Thereās using one another for our own interests or benefits until they no longer serve us or settling for anything if weāre done playing games. Thatās liquid modernity, babe.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āThatās liquid modernity, babe.ā He mimicked her with a huff.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Theyād been going at it for a while now.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Talking about past relationships ā her, with bitteness, him, with some sort of strange longing mixed with hopefulness ā, experiences, sharing their own special view on the matter, whilst sitting on the kitchen floor, backs against the granite counter.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYāknow, he broke up with me on my birthday.ā She added, quietly āHe didnāt even remember it. And I thought he was the love of my life.ā Those words rolled out of her tongue like they were made of lemon, so bitter she almost cringed āSome days I still do. Swear to you.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā āHe was an asshole.ā Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā She was staring at him and he was staring at her and before she could think twice, they were kissing.
Ā Ā Ā Ā It was sweet at first, innocent then, just two sad, half broken half mended people trying to make each other feel better with a touch of their lips.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Then it grew hunger, her fingers grasping onto his shirt, her mouth opening up just the slightly to let him know she wanted more, his hands frantic, fingers tangling on the hair on the back of her head, soft lips against hers with sharp teeth biting on her lower lip, a sense of desire and wanton she hadnāt felt in a while starting to burn on her chest.
Ā Ā Ā Ā She didnāt love him, but she could make love to him.
Ā Ā Ā Ā He was the perfect distraction, all she couldāve asked for in a rebound: someone she felt attracted to, not a total stranger so it wouldnāt be as awkward, someone who needed her body as much as she needed his.
Ā Ā Ā Ā It was perfect.
(He was perfect.)
(Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect timing, perfect way to lightly run his fingers on the side of her body to give her goosebumps, perfect way to look at her with half lidded eyes that almost said he wanted some more, perfect bite on that perfect little lower lip that almost drove her mad.)
Ā Ā Ā Ā āLetās get out of here.ā
Those five simple words were her salvation.
Ā Ā Ā Ā And those five simple words were the beggining of The Doom of Her Love Life.
--
hi iām alive please donāt hate me i hope you guys liked it!Ā
if you did donāt forget to click on the lilā heart and leave me a message! oh and who do you have in mind when reading this?
What can I sayyyyyyy!!!! Omg Iām so happy theyāre back!! Omg!!! Iām so so soooooo happy!!! I loved it so much.. please continue with your writing!! Pleeeeeeeease!! I need to read about them all the time, I re-read Lucky Strike every once in a while. Much love ā¤ļø
ahh thank you so so so much <3 means a lot, really!! and lucky strike is one of my favorites :ā) iāll try to write and most more!
Mats and Nina are going to have a baby (probably, maybe) and all I can think of is how they are going to handle Kaiser and a baby. Anyway I love Nina's reasoning as to why she is sort of relived it is all over.
i also wonder the exact same thing i mean poor nina. kaiser is a baby and mats is a big baby and now (probably, maybe) A Real Baby!!!!!
okay so i really recommend reading my favorite thing iāve ever written aka lucky strike before reading this. but if you donāt want to, feel free not to, itās basically a drabble about Mats and Germanyās World cup loss ĀÆ\_(ć)_/ĀÆ
It was the worst case scenario and the best case scenario all at the same time.
Germany was out.
All the stress, the sleepless nights, the no-sex policy, the having to be on a diet cause he was on a diet so she kinda had to be in one too - it was all over.
(Finally.)
She knew she shouldnāt be happy - not even a bit content - but oh well, she had a resting bitch face although on the inside...
Well, on the inside she was a little giddy.
They had already won four years ago, dammit, let someone else have some fun for Christs sake!
(Not that sheād ever tell Mats that.)
(Or anyone, on that matter.)
(Maybe just Vick or Chelsea or Cat.)
(Cat was probably having the time of her life as sheād been rooting against Germany since Benedikt got injured.)
Anyway.
Taking a huge sip of her beer - in her mind it was like a hey! you survived! have some beer!, to all the photographers it was probably out of disappointment - she took a deep breath, put on her best consolatory yellow smile and followed all the other WAGs out of the VIP booth.
Time to give lots of bear hugs and taps on the back.
(And maybe itād all be over in time for her to watch Brazil x Serbia)
(Amen)
(Damn she was a terrible wife.)
ā
The World Cup was a hell of a lot cooler when your special other wasnāt playing in one.
That was what Nina had decided anyway and no one could change her mind.
(Seriously, no one could, much less Mats.)
(Scoff.)
(Like Mats could change her mind on anything.)
āYouāll go to Russia and you can wear my jersey with all these cool outfits and youāll be with all your friends and itāll be so much fun, youāll see.ā
Nina didnāt have the heart to tell him that:
1. She never had the faintest wish to go to Russia, I mean sure the architecture was nice but they were slightly homophobic and she sorta totally hated that?!
3. āAll of her friendsā were basically just Chelsea and Chloe not even Chloe aka The Captain of the German WAGs felt like going to Russia with kids on toll so shit
4. Her definition of fun and Mats were pretty damn different. As much as she loved football, the stress that came with Mats playing removed all the fun from the equation.
For Nina a fun World Cup meant betting on all the games on your hearts desire - even if that meant betting against your husband -, drinking lots of cheap beer on a pub with greasy floors, or just saying as many curse words as you could in a spam of a minute in front of a television.
Damn she wasnāt made for cheering on stadiums with cameras facing her.
ā
So yes, Germany lost.
And Nina hated to admit that she cried.
The second she laid eyes on Mats in the dressing room, her chin started to tremble, her nose started to itch and her eyes filled with water.
āCause he looked like someone had just murdered his puppy with his bare hands right in front of him and he couldnāt do nothing about it, like he was just simply so sad he couldnāt handle it - not cry, not scream, not do anything, just sit and sulk on his own sadness.
Someone tried to approach him - maybe it was Sami, her vision was so blurry she could only pick out the hair gel - and she heard Mats growl (literally growl) for him to leave him alone.
āIām so, so, so sorry.ā Was all Nina could muster, basically throwing herself at him on the bench, hugging him so tight she could feel air coming out of his mouth at so hard she was squeezing him, and she wanted to kick herself on the boobs for ever being slightly giddy that the World Cup madness was over.
(Nina often wanted to kick herself on the boob for lots of reasons: for moving from Dortmund to Munich, which she absolutely hated and almost ended up their marriage but oh well, for not bringing Kaiser to Russia, for still putting up with Marco Reus for their āfamily dinnersā, for ālettingā Mats dye his hair blonde that one (terrible, one must say) time...)
āIām sorry too.ā He said it, in such a low volume she could barely register it, and she wanted to say he had nothing to apologize for, but she knew heād hate that, so she just let him be.
And squeezed him.
Squeezed him to make him feel her love.
Whilst he kept mumbling Iām sorry, Iām so sorry, God, Iām sorry...
And she cried. Ugly cried actually, sobbed, couldnāt even breathe, she did a complete 180 emotionally, like she did when she was PMSing.
(One minute I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MATS, the other one GET OUT OF MY FACE, five seconds later eating ice-cream out of the pint, the next whining about how she was now fat, etc.)
What wasnāt usually like her, - or like the time of the month she was, as she was supposed to be PMSing...
Three weeks ago.
She let go of Mats, going pale as a ghost.
It was probably stress. The World Cup stress. Mats diet that she was now following (her life was miserable without any chocolate). The stress.
The stress.
Definitely the stress.
(Or wasnāt it?)
āNina, are you okay?ā
He held her face with his palms, staring right into her eyes, and she couldnāt belive that in a moment like this he was actually worried about her.
āY-yes.ā
Was she?
Cause it couldnāt be.
(Could it?)
Could she?
(It couldnāt.)
Could she be pregnant?
(She couldnāt.)
Or could she?
ā
OKAY thank you so much for reading it and if you liked it pls donāt forget to click on the lilā heart i reallyyy appreciate it!
oh messages are always nice so yup hit me up
and did you guys miss mats and nina like i did?! CAUSE I MISSED THEM A LOT OKAY theyāre my fictional otp
One of the many fanfiction blogs that iāve stalked since i had learnt that reading fanfiction could be very tempting (nein, lie, it was since 2 months ago haha). She is a very great writer and i always open her blog almost every morning just to check on for her new materials or maybe read the old ones (that iāve read over and over again and i still get the feels).
Her last writing is about Marco Reus, and it makes me crying, right in the middle of my āexcuse-me-imma-working-on-my-thesis-here-but-a-little-time-off-with-tumblr-wont-hurtā time. And now iām just reading all Riley-Marco OS again and trying my best to avoid the last one, Dear Darlinā *although i love it, so fucking in love with it, nein, i love all of her works, Gabeā¦.wow!!!!!* *i dont know you but people call you Gabe, so i just let myself comfortably to call you by your name hahaa*
Riley, iām gonna miss you. Gabe, youāre genius!!!
iām re-reading some of my old stuff (lame i know) and i came across this comment and itās so NICE thank you so much!! i miss marco reus IMMA WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT HIM poor lil baby
oh and people call me gabe cause itās my nickname and feel free to do so ššš
