Can I request a fluffy oneshot about Lance Mcclain and shy female human reader spending a day at the Aquarium together? 🥰🥰💖💖 Please?? 😁😁 I really love to see more flustered Lance!! 🥰💖
Ask and you shall receive:
Lance x Reader aquarium date 🐠🫧 gn! reader | 700 words
You exhaled a deep breath as the jellyfish you had been tracking completed another circuit around its round tank. In this bloom of a dozen jellyfish, there was something attractive about how this particular jelly lagged behind the group. The same circular current pushed everyone at the same speed, yet there was still a gap between it and everyone else.
The bench creaked as Lance McClain placed his backpack beside you. Over the whirring and bubbling of the jellyfish tank, he was doubled over and panting loudly.
The corner of your mouth twitched upwards as you said, “Hi.”
After a few more pants, he also said, “Hi.”
“Glad you could make it.” You didn’t take your eyes off the tank.
“I wouldn’t miss it” —wheeze— “for the world.”
“Good.” You pointed at the straggling jelly. “Because I think Squishy would have missed you.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.”
Lance stood up and got closer to the tank. At his tall height, he was face to face with your favorite jelly when near the top of the tank. “Sorry I was late, bud.” He wiggled his pointer finger at it. “I know how much you were looking forward to seeing me.”
You snorted as you stood up. “Couldn’t have been that much if you were running so behind.”
“Ten minutes late is not—”
“That’s a long time!”
He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised.
“Don’t you dare make a sex joke right now.”
He turned back to look at the tank, smiling. “I think Squishy would think it was funny.”
“Speaking of squishy…” You hugged Lance from behind, wrapping your arms firmly around his torso before pressing your cheek into the muscles of his back. Immediately you felt his hands over the back of yours, interlacing between your fingers.
“My swimmer’s body is not squishy.” Poutiness noted.
“There’s just the right amount of squish.” You pinched the slightest give of his waist and Lance yelped. “See, squishy and aquatic. Just how I like them.”
“Whatever,” he said under his breath, still grinning. He turned around in your arms to face you and moved his hands to rest on your hips. His hands were extra warm compared to the perpetual chill of the aquarium air conditioning. “I think you’ve been spending too long with the jellyfish.”
“Need I remind you, it’s because someone was ten minutes late.”
“I have something to make up for it.”
“I’d hope so.”
He rolled his eyes and gave you a kiss on the forehead.
“A kiss? That’s it?” —another forehead kiss— “Two kisses?” —a kiss on each cheek— “Four?” —a couple on your nose— “Oh geez.” Your exclamations dissolved into laughter. Then Lance started moving down to your neck—
“Hey!” You swatted him in the chest. “Not in front of the children!”
“The jellyfish are like 12 years old! They’re middle aged!” But he stopped anyway.
He stepped away from you to dig through his backpack and you groaned. “Ugh. Can you believe this, Squishy? Thinking he can get away with murder—”
“Dramatic much—”
“—Through physical affection! The lunacy! The disrespect! The—”
“Catch!”
Lance tossed a plastic baggie at you and you caught it easily. A smile ripped across your face as you saw what it was. It was a bag of—
“Gummy jellyfish,” he said, looking smug.
“Gummy jellyfish!” You all but screamed. You repeatedly looked in between the prized bag of gummy candy and your boyfriend. Complete disbelief running through you. “But how! The gift shop’s been sold out for—”
Lance shrugged casually. “Got a tip that they were restocking today so I just…” Lance fully unzipped his backpack and turned it upside down. Three dozen bags of gummy jellyfish slid onto the tile floor in front of you and you fell to your knees into the middle of the pile, jaw dropped.
You bewilderedly grazed your hands over all the shiny packaging. “I’m losing my fucking mind!”
“So I assume, from your reaction, that this makes up for it?”
“Oh, one hundred percent,” you said, absolutely elated. “Now help me pick these up.”
“Fine, fine.”
Once all but the candy bags were safely back in Lance’s bag, you both sat back on the bench in front of the jellyfish tank and ripped open the bag you saved.
Sure, there were some drawbacks to being a little behind; but at least for you, the pros far outweigh the cons.
a/n: I’m back after I don’t know how many years of not posting any fanfic. Hoping to post more often. Thank you to my longtime followers for your patience ❤️ and hello to my new followers! Requests are open! Send them in!
Amidst the shitstorm that is the world right now, I hope my writing can offer some reprieve and a well-deserved break. I love you guys a lot, and I’m excited to get back into creating again.
summary: You’re reading a romance novel in the Galra HQ headquarters and Lotor joins you. Just pure fluff and domesticity.
a/n: Something short and sweet to get back in the habit of writing! (See the end for longer a/n)
He finds you in the HQ’’s library. Your usual spot: the top floor, in the corner surrounded by windows, sitting with your whole body sprawled out on the couch. He leans against a nearby shelf, his arms crossed over his chest just watching you.
Today, you had abandoned your Galra officer uniform—Lotor had a set perfectly tailored for your smaller human size—for your casual Earth clothes. He recognized the black woven sweater you wore as one of his you had stolen and a long navy skirt. While he appreciated how the kevlar of your uniform was perfectly contoured to your figure, you were equally alluring in your baggy modest outfits.
“I told you staring was creepy, Lotor,” you said.
“How could admiring my beautiful fiance ever be considered ‘creepy?’” he asked.
“Well, when you put it that way…”
He laughed and walked towards you. He sat on the couch arm behind your head and began stroking your hair. You hummed pleasantly at his touch and he smiled. “What are you reading? Is it another one of your romance novels?”
“Yup! I think you might actually like this one this time.”
“Are you sure about that? The last one you recommended me was a bit...explicit for my taste.”
“...Okay, yeah...nevermind…”
“I thought as much.”
At your request, the Paladins had gifted you a box full of them on the last visit to the HQ. At first, he was stunned by the provocative covers of shirtless, muscled men and women in long gowns on the front covers. The material inside was just as lewd as the covers had him believe, if not more so at times. The Galra didn’t have romance novels like humans. When you lived in a society that valorized stoicism, bravery, and athleticism, there wasn’t much space for emotions, let alone the ephemeral, flittery ones like love.
He could see the appeal, though. In the latest novel you finished, you had read him one of your favorite paragraphs. He doesn’t remember the specifics because he was so enchanted with the sound of your voice. He always is. But it was something describing the feeling of being in love. The simultaneous nervousness that came with the initial crush before it developed into deep, unwavering devotion. Sweaty hands and dilated pupils. Thoughts of what your partner was doing. All the domesticity and intensity he felt with you.
It was nice to know these feelings were mutual in both your and his culture.
“May I join you?”
“Of course!”
You scooched forward and he settled in behind you. You settled your body between his long legs and rested your back against his broad chest. He wrapped one of his arms around your ribcage, the other relaxed on the couch back.
“You comfy?” you asked.
“Always when I’m with you.” He ran his nose over your temple and pressed a chaste kiss on the top of your head.
a/n: Long time no write! I’m finally done with all my finals and papers for this winter quarter yay! Just trying to get back in the groove of writing for fun. Look forward to seeing more of these for the next six months, because spring quarter is now all online because of the pandemic. Hope all of you are safe and healthy!!
I- my queen is back 🥺🥺 I saw you posted saying requests are open, so if possible could you do some fluffy headcanons for James Griffin? That boy makes me beyond weak Love your writing so much and keep doing what your doing 🥰🥰💕🥺💖💓💘
[ Requests are open! ]
pairing: James Griffin x Rival University!Reader
summary: Fluffy headcanons detailing how you two met at a college football game between your two schools, the drama of dating a guy from a rival school, and Nadia being a pain in James’s ass (because what are friends for?).
a/n: Anon, you’re too kind!!! LOML 💖💓💘 This request was really fun to write and helped break my writing block. Hope you like it!!
You’re a university student at the Garrison’s rival institution Paramount University, studying humanities, the complete opposite of James’s military and STEM training
You two meet during a football game between your two schools. It’s a major event, naturally; so, although you and James make a habit of avoiding these large scale school events, your friend groups make you go
Your groups are next to each other in line to be let into the stadium: Now, imagine stealing glances at each other for thirty minutes!!
You could care less about your friends’ conversations about their WIP theses, hot professors, and gossip. Because there’s a hot guy in the group next to you
Brunette with dark brown hair, a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a slight grin. He’s tall and when he crosses his arms you notice how broad his chest is.
But, dammit, he’s wearing a Garrison letterman jacket. A boy from a rival school is not what you need right now. But dammit he looks so fucking hot...wait...did he just flex?
Of course, James notices you noticing him. He thinks you’re super cute and 100 percent his type. No shit he’s going to show off a little.
He stretches his arms over his head and his black t-shirt rides up and reveals his abs.
Your eyes widen, you face turns redder, and you avert your gaze.
He stifles a chuckle at your shyness, but continues pulling shit like that to get your attention. Nadia notices him flexing and elbows him hard in the rib cage. So he tones it down…a little
You two bump into each other again at the food stand near the entrance just before halftime.
He walks up behind you as your grabbing napkins and says, “Glad you had the same idea,”
“Jesus Christ!” You almost drop your chili fries and your two dozen napkins. “Oh, hi, yeah. I just wanted to beat the rush.”
“Yeah. It’s gonna be absolute mayhem in five minutes.” He smiles at you and you smile back. He thinks you’re so pretty and makes a move. “Can I walk you back to your seat—”
“YES!”
On your walk back you tease each other since you belong to rival schools. At some point you exchange numbers, and when he gets back to his seats on the bleachers he texts you:
Let’s make a bet. Garrison wins, I take you out on a date. Paramount wins, you take me out on a date.
You accept his terms.
Paramount wins—but he still pays for everything.
One date becomes two, two becomes four, and he ends up sneaking into your dorm every other couple nights to spend time with you.
Your twin size bed is way too small for the both of you—at least, that’s your excuse for basically laying on top of him.
He doesn’t call you out on it because he loves cuddling with you.
You find out he’s a giant nerd beneath his Type A exterior. You binge watch The Witcher and Harry Potter, play video games together. You get him into Animal Crossing (Pocket Camp especially) and he gets you into The Last of Us.
Since you’re dating someone from your rival school, you wanted to keep it lowkey because your friends would roast your ass if they found out. Ditto for James and his crew.
But both of you keeping it secret only delays the inevitable.
Nadia finds out because she stole James’s phone to take silly selfies with Ryan and Ina and finds half a dozen notifications for Pocket Camp and texts from you calling him a litany of pet names.
“Hey, Griffin?” “Yeah?” “Who’s y/n? And why is she calling you ‘daddy?’ ”
He’s across the room and lunges for the phone, getting into a wrestling match with Nadia trying to get it back.
(You didn’t actually call him ‘daddy,’ Nadia just has a fantastic sense of humor.)
He introduces you to his friends a week after. They love you and you get along great with them.
Most of the time they try to bring up embarrassing stories about James, and your boyfriend attempts to threaten them into silence. Ina and Ryan respect him enough to stay quiet, but Nadia is more of a wildcard.
He drives you back to your apartment after that. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed about some of the stories Nadia told him.
“So, sounds like you had a real romance with that Keith guy—” “Please, don’t bring him up.”
You laugh and make up for it with a lots of little kisses all over his face and a long hug when he drops you off in your apartment complex lobby.
“Don’t forget you’re meeting my friends next week.” You tell him.
“I’ll be fine. They can’t be any worse than Nadia, right?”
“It’ll be like having brunch with four Nadias. So...much, much worse.”
Hello, everybody! I’ve decided to open commissions to help support my financial situation. I.e. your commissions would primarily go towards funding my upcoming surgeries in the Fall/Winter and my graduate school application fees. You can read more about my financial situation in this post. Any commissions would be greatly appreciated 💚.
Payments can be made to my ko-fi.
here’s the pricing:
$1 - a letter from your favorite character
$3 - 100-500 words
$5 - 500-999 words
$10 - 1000-1500 words
price negotiable - more than 1500 words
rules/guidelines:
DM me for commission requests; there, we can discuss the specifics of what you would want! If you like, I can even send you a preview before payment.
I primarily write reader-inserts from the Voltron fandom (and Peter Parker if anyone is interested). But I can make exceptions depending on the request (e.g. character x character, OC x reader, different fandom etc.)
Upon request, I can just send you the completed commission if you do not want it to be posted to Tumblr.
NSFW commissions accepted (hard nos: non-con and incest)
Be aware, I may not do your commission if I am uncomfortable with the content requested (e.g. abusing a reader/character, pedophilia, racism, etc).
a/n:
I’ll probably update the rules/guidelines or more specifications if I come up with any more. pls reblog so this gets visibility uwu
I will still fulfill non-commission requests from time to time. So if you are unable to commission me for any reason, you can still send me one in my ask box! This is just another way to support me (I appreciate all your likes, comments, reblogs, and follows though!). Thank you all for your continued love and support these past couple years. I love you all so much 💕. Feel free to send asks or DM if you have any questions.
summary: Ever since Peter was bit by that spider, his senses have gone haywire. He eventually got used to them, but at the cost of sending you mixed messages about a potential relationship. Maybe tonight he can fix all that and face one of his biggest fears: intimacy with you.
warnings: cursing, it gets steamy at the end
word count: 3.6k
a/n: Just noticed that all of my Peter Parker fics are about the Reader hanging out with Peter and then taking a next step in their romantic relationship lmao. It’s fine. I hope each is nuanced enough to be interesting. But hey, at least I’m writing what I want to read haha. Enjoy.
For the past couple of weeks, you had been coming over to Peter’s apartment to get homework done. While you weren’t in all the same class periods, you did have the same teachers. And with the both of you working on the same assignments, they’d all be knocked out before dinner. Which meant more time for Peter and you to talk and hang out.
Like friends. Yup. One hundred percent platonic.
At least, that’s what you’d tell yourself.
The lines got blurry during some moments.
Like now for instance. It was yours and Peter’s classic game set up: in the Parker apartment, the Nintendo Switch up on the coffee table and both of you sitting on the couch. You two were engrossed in a boss battle, one that you had failed to win a couple times now. Although your hands were cramping from being curled around the tiny Switch controller, you didn’t want to be the first one to give up. Peter’s persistence was contagious.
Aside from just wanting to finally beat this boss’s ass, there was another reason you wanted to keep playing. Peter would often have his knee or thigh brush yours. Sometimes his shoulder would bump your shoulder. His elbow would graze your arm.
Honestly, you weren’t sure if he did these things on purpose or not.
Every time those moments happened; you felt a rush of…something? Something that made your face turn warm. Your palms start to sweat. Your insides become a jittery, giddy mess. While the physicality of this “something” didn’t seem appealing, you craved it, nonetheless.
There was one major downside to these accidental touches, though.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Peter said. “Watch out for those—”
They made you lose focus.
“—bomb…arrows.” The stage exploded. Your pixelated corpse bounced around the level, quickly followed by Peter’s. An obnoxious ‘YOU DIED’ flashed on the screen.
Peter dropped his controller in his lap and slouched on the couch. He covered his face with his forearms, no doubt a little disappointed with this stunning defeat. He grumbled to himself as the music from the game turned minor.
You slouched beside him. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
He sighed and sat up again. Despite his disappointment, there was still a cheerful grin on his face. “Don’t worry about it. I think that was the closest we ever got to winning.”
You smiled and sat with one leg crossed underneath you. “I think so, too.” You pressed the left bumper on your control and watched the in-game replay. You hissed as you saw your player explode again.
Your eyes slid to the opposite side of the screen. On the second rewind, you saw Peter get shot by an arrow to the back. “You could have easily caught that, you know,” you said, elbowing Peter in the side.
“I know, I know.” He rolled his eyes and exited to the game’s start menu. “Doesn’t help that these controllers are so tiny.”
“Knowing Nintendo, they’ll just come out with another console in a couple years. Then we won’t have to deal with these monstrosities,” you said, twirling your controller in the air.
Peter laughed, but it sounded distracted.
You turned your head to look at him, but he was staring straight ahead. His fingers were laced together, his forearms resting on his thighs. He was trying his hardest to look relaxed, but it only gave away how tense he was.
“Peter?” You leaned towards him. “Is everything okay—”
You felt resistance against your knee. You looked down and noticed it was basically resting on Peter’s right thigh. Oh shit.
“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly pulling your body away. You scooted to the far side of the couch until your back was pressed against the armrest. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Peter turned his head towards you. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his mouth turned down at the corners by a tiny bit. “No, no, no, you’re totally fine. You could never make me uncomfortable.”
He was saying one thing, but his face told you a different story.
As far as you could remember, Peter was usually fine with physical contact. In elementary school, he was generous with hi-fives and hugs.
Middle school, he reigned it in a bit, pulling back his friendly impulses, especially with girls.
Then high school came and he…changed. It was complicated, to say the least. He was still the same bubbly and awkward genius. He had a lot of acquaintances, a couple close friends from the decathlon team and marching band. But this Peter kept his arms close to his sides, tucked in his pockets, crossed over his chest. He avoided physical contact at all times.
There were no more hugs. Casual arm over someone’s shoulders. Holding hands. Nothing.
Thinking about it, you only ever saw Peter hi-five and hug Ned and that was almost a year ago. Nobody else was ever let into that personal space bubble. Well, except for you. But even that was precarious.
Or you’d like to think so.
Peter’s dark brown eyes were still fixed on you. While his face had relaxed, his expression was neutral, almost unreadable. His body was still wound up, his hands pulled into tight fists that had his knuckles whitening.
Then the Parker apartment phone rang.
Peter shot up a millisecond later. “I got it! I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice too relieved for comfort. He jogged quickly towards the kitchen.
“Hey, May,” Peter said into the phone. He appeared under the threshold between the kitchen and living room, casually leaning on one side. He mouthed, “It’s May,” to you and you mouthed back, “No shit.”
He stuck his tongue at you before returning to the phone. “What was that, May?”
You only half-listened to the conversation as started cleaning up the game set up.
“Yeah, we’re doing fine,” Peter said. You felt his eyes on you as you tasked yourself with tidying the room. It sent a chill down your body. When you turned to look back at him, he held your gaze for a few seconds before averting them to the floor.
You swallowed a gulp and focused on reorganizing May’s many magazines. Your hands were suddenly shaky and nervous. Get a hold of yourself.
“No…Yeah, I know…How’s Happy?... Oh, you’re getting dinner with him tonight?” Peter asked. “Thanks for letting me know, I guess.”
You sat back on the couch and drew your knees to your chest. You looked at Peter again and spun your hands in a circle, hissing, “Hurry up.”
He rolled his eyes but cut the conversation short anyway. “Alright, alright. No drinking, no drugs. Got it…You be safe, too…No! That wasn’t a sex joke, May! God...Bye!”
You obnoxiously cackled on the couch. “So thoughtful of you Peter,” you called after him as he disappeared back into the kitchen. “Wouldn’t want May getting an STD.”
“Would you shut up about it?” Peter yelled back. “I don’t want to talk about my aunt’s sex life. Ever.” He walked back into the living room, now wielding four different take out menus. He fanned them out for you. “Since May isn’t coming back tonight...”
You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. Peter groaned and slapped your shoulder with the menu fan. “Quit. It.” He tone was threatening, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Choose a take-out place before I kick you out of here with no dinner.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re a cruel one, Peter Parker.”
“I learned from the best,” he said, flopping back on the couch. He spread out the four menus over both of your laps. You looked over them and picked up the menu for the Japanese place. “Good choice.”
He gathered the three rejected menus and laid them on the table. Sitting back, he laid both his arms on the back of the sofa. He leaned towards you so that his chin grazed the top of your shoulder, the side of his body lightly pressing against your entire left arm.
“Watcha feelin’?” he asked.
“I’m always in the mood for tempura,” you said.
“You want to split some takoyaki?” Peter’s arm slid to wrap around your shoulders. You suppressed the urge to tense. You guessed you were successful since Peter was entirely focused on the laminated menu in your lap. “I haven’t eaten any in a while.”
“Yeah…sure.” His thumb began tracing smooth circles on your shoulder. It was distracting, to say the least. Strangely intoxicating at most. Was he even aware he was doing these things?
When he began running the back of his knuckles up and down your tricep, you shot up from the couch. Peter caught the menu as it slid off your lap. He looked up at you, an eyebrow quirked upward.
“Everything alright?” he asked.
You smoothed down your shirt and shorts with your sweaty hands. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I’m just gonna grab the phone. Seems like we’re about ready to order.”
He blinked at your retreating form as you scurried into the kitchen. “O…kay…” Peter tried not to think about your evasiveness too much as he sat back on the couch and began picking at the menu’s corners.
Recently, his senses have been unstable. Not that they were ever stable or normal ever since he got bitten by that spider. This was decidedly different though. That’s what Peter would tell himself anyway since his senses only did weird things when you were around. He only became aware of your effect on him recently.
It started with hearing someone’s heartbeat in the middle of class. He didn’t pay much attention to it, but it would randomly grow louder and louder until he felt like his head was throbbing. It was annoying at first. Then he found out it was your heartbeat—whenever he looked at you, your heart beat faster—and it became sort of a calming presence.
Weird. Yeah, he knows. But it made him feel closer to you.
A couple days after that, he noticed that he would feel a rush whenever his skin touched yours. He felt simultaneously hot and cold, the hair on his arms would rise, and his palms would suddenly become sweaty. And each time he would experience the urge to just wrap himself around you and never let go.
And sometimes, the impulse would be…less than innocent.
He tried not to dwell on those thoughts and feelings when they came up.
He watched you, almost reverently, as you walked back to the couch, the kitchen phone in hand.
You sat with your back against the armrest again, your feet crossed beneath you. Peter pushed down his disappointment that you weren’t sitting as close to him anymore.
“What’s the restaurant’s number?” you asked, pointedly staring at the phone’s number pad.
He looked down at the menu and read the number out loud to you. He picked at the bottom right menu corner as you placed both your and Peter’s orders.
The rest of the evening continued without incident, both to your and Peter’s chagrin. The take- out arrived and Peter put on a Netflix rom-com on the TV as you laid out the food. The both of you maintained an arms distance away from each other on the couch—a feat within itself since the loveseat wasn’t that roomy in the first place.
Comments and laughter were exchanged as the film’s love interests flirted and danced around each other. Both of you groaned as the classic scene of miscommunication threatened to jeopardize the relationship.
“Why can’t they just talk it out?” you asked, exasperated. “That would fix everything!”
“But then we wouldn’t have a movie,” Peter said, playing devil’s advocate. But then he shriveled underneath your glare and he cleared his throat. “That plot point could have been executed better, though.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
You tried not think to much about the irony of the situation.
The film faded to black and the credits rolled. Neither you nor Peter moved to shut off the TV or throw away the empty take out containers. As generic pop song after generic pop song played over the speaker, you finally looked at Peter.
“I think I’m gonna get ready for bed,” you said.
“Alright. I’ll clean up a bit first.”
“Sounds good.”
You were already under the covers of Peter’s bed when he finally walked into his bedroom. He had just gotten out of the shower, his hair wet and combed back. You watched from underneath drowsy eyelids as he settled into his sleeping bag on the ground.
This was your usual setup whenever you slept over—Peter was a gentleman and always offered you the bed. The first time you were hesitant to take his offer. This was his home after all. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer (there was his trademark Peter Parker persistence). He even called May in to help convince you that it was alright to take Peter’s bed whenever you slept over.
Peter whispered a “good night” to you as he pulled the top of the sleeping bag over his chest. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through social media and news articles. The screen’s blue light illuminated his face, his brown eyes squinting and moving quickly down the screen.
When he attempted to prop his head up on his hand, his elbow slipped on the hardwood floor and he smacked his nose into his phone. He hissed and muttered to himself, irritated. It was probably the discomfort on his face that made you call his name. You know…after you laughed a bit.
“Peter?”
He hummed and glanced up at you, his furrowed brow relaxing.
“Do you…want to sleep in the bed tonight?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We talked about this, I’m okay with sleeping on the floor—”
“No, I mean…” You hesitated propped yourself up on your elbow. Peter sat up as well. “Do you want to sleep in your bed…with me?”
Peter just stared at you. He could hear your heartbeat speeding up and, with the help of the moonlight streaming through his sheer curtains, he could see your face reddening the tiniest bit. Your gaze was timid as you tried to maintain his eye contact. Then you habitually licked your lips and he grinned.
“Alright,” he said. He stood up, picked up his pillow, and stepped towards the bed. “Scoot over, bed hog.”
You moved back so your back almost touched the wall. The twin-sized bed dipped as Peter slipped under the covers and shifted around to get comfortable. He tugged the blankets a little too hard and it exposed your body to the cold air conditioning.
You pulled them back with a mock huff. “You better not steal all the blankets in the middle of the night,” you warned half-heartedly.
“No promises.”
You rolled your eyes and let your witty reply dissolve on your tongue—Peter was simply looking at you, completely relaxed. His gaze lazy as they roamed over your face slowly.
“You know, it’s okay if you touch me,” he said, voice low.
“You sure?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
You grabbed a fistful of the blanket and began picking at it with your fingers. “I don’t know. I just thought you had an issue with physical contact.”
Peter had left the curtains drawn, allowing the moonlight to filter into the bedroom. It was faint, gentle enough for you to make out the expression on Peter’s face. He seemed to be grinning. There was a bewildered brightness in his eyes.
“If you need me to be explicit,” he began slowly. “I have no problem with you touching me.”
As if to prove his statement, gently brushed his knees against yours. When you didn’t pull back, he moved closer. Close enough that you could feel the warmth rolling off his body. Close enough that his head was almost resting on your pillow.
“So, would this be okay?” you asked, your voice soft as you scooted forward a little bit. You kept your hands folded against your chest, and this close to Peter, your knuckles brushed against his shirt. They must have grazed against the skin beneath because his breath hitched.
“Yeah. That’s fine.”
“What about this?” You ran your toes down the front of his shins.
“That’s also fine, I guess. Weirdo.”
You both chuckled, but his seemed a lot more forced. Peter was trying his absolute best not to betray the panic within him. This was the closest, the most intimate, he’s ever been with a person. Ever. It made him feel all kinds of strange emotions. Anxiety and restraint and desire—
The way that you were looking at him, with your lips slightly parted and your pupils dilated, it made him want things. He sensed the fluttering of your heart. Sensed the goosebumps running up your arms. Your breath becoming thick and heady. He probably would have noticed those things without his spidey-sense. Which only meant you noticed him reacting the exact same way to you.
He licked his lips as he spotted a glimmer of hesitation in your expression. They almost imperceptible way your nose twitched and your eyes blinked slower. His hand was right next to your thigh, and he gripped the bedsheet hard between his fingers as he finally felt you lift your head.
“What about this?”
You kissed him.
It was a little more than the brushing of lips, firm enough to be pleasant and reserved enough to be teasing. It was light and sweet and experimental. And yet it set Peter’s nerves on fire as his awareness of your body intensified exponentially.
When you pulled away, Peter looked absolutely stunned. His eyebrows were raised, his eyes wide, his entire body tense. He looked like he was staring right through you as he nodded his head stoically.
“Yeah. That was also fine,” he said slowly as if he was still processing. Then he gave you a nervous smile. A smile that you knew too well. It was the smile that he gave when Flash told a problematic joke. When Mr. Harrington gave well-intentioned but bad advice. When Ned let slip an embarrassing secret about Peter. It was a smile that seemed to spell your doom.
Your face warmed and you immediately regretted all the life decisions that led you to this moment. This moment with you in Peter’s bedroom. In his bed. This moment that would ruin—has ruined—your relationship. A relationship that was perfect the way it was. You completely fucked it up.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have—”
Then Peter kissed you. Peter’s kiss made yours seem like an innocent peck. His kiss was heated and wanting and almost manic as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against him. He pushed his hands underneath your t-shirt and pressed one hand on the small of your back, the other smoothed up and down your torso.
You slipped a hand into his hair, tugging gently and twirling strands around your fingers. He groaned as you hitched your left leg over his hip. He instinctively ground into you. Surprised by that hint of pleasure, you moaned, and Peter slipped his tongue into your mouth.
Each kiss given and each touch exchanged was hungry and rushed, as if making up for lost time. You were the first one to pull away, panting and breathless. Peter simply kissed down your jaw to your neck. You muffled your sighs and moans into his pillow.
After a few moments of torturing the sensitive skin of your neck—and noting the particular spots that had you writhing—he finally pulled away. He slid back up the bed, so he was eye to eye with you.
You exhaled a deep breath. “Well, that was—”
“Fine?” Peter offered, grinning wildly.
You snorted. “I was gonna say,”—you stole a quick kiss from his lips—“a long time coming. But I guess ‘fine’ sums it up almost as well.”
“Whatever. Just come here.”
You snuggled into his chest, settling into a comfortable position where Peter could rest his chin on your head and both your arms were wrapped around each other. After a year or two of teasing touches, you couldn’t get enough of each other.
“So, what took you so long?” you asked.
Peter sighed, his hand drawing curls and curves on your back. “I don’t know. I was just scared I guess.”
“Fair enough. I know I’m absolutely terrifying.”
He pinched your side and you yelped. You lightly pounded his chest with a fist, and he laughed. “Not of you. And not scared of relationships, necessarily. Mostly just the intimate parts…” he trailed off and the hand at your back stilled.
He let out a long, deep breath. And while his body relaxed, you could still feel that he was holding something back. “I was scared I’d be…overwhelmed?” he said. His voice was quiet, and he was stumbling over his own words. “Or I was scared it would be too much—I don’t know. It’s kinda hard to explain…” Because how could he explain without giving everything away?
“Peter…” You slid away from him, enough to look up at his face. “You know you can tell me anything. I’m not gonna judge you.”
“I know. I know.”
“You don’t have to tell me everything now.” You cupped your hand to the side of his face. “Tell me whenever you’re ready.”
He smiled and turned his head to kiss the inside of your palm. You succumbed to the heaviness of your eyelids after Peter’s tiny reassurance. And as the waves of sleep came for you, Peter held you tighter in his arms.
As he fell asleep, he whispered a single word into your hair.
summary: Peter and you have been dating for a while now and the relationship has been getting serious. So when the two of your are just hanging out and having fun, he feels like it’s the right time to drop the l-word. Or maybe not?
warnings: Cursing
word count: 2.1k
a/n: I was being impulsive and wanted a cute, fluffy Peter fic (especially since my mood has been pretty eh and the whole Disney vs. Sony had me on edge.) I would die for Peter Parker. Hope you guys enjoy this one.
“Peter, what are you reading?” you asked.
“Ten tips for beautiful hair the government doesn’t want you to know,” Peter said.
“What the fuck?” You shut your laptop and scooted over to where Peter was on his apartment floor. “Move over, I wanna see.”
He pulled his laptop into his lap and angled it away from you. He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t I learn about wavy hair shampoo without you looking over my shoulder?”
“No.” You elbowed him until he put his laptop back down, albeit begrudgingly.
“Hey! Watch it with the elbows. I got bruises from my patrol last night.” You scrolled through the listicle as Peter rubbed his sore ribs.
You laid down on your stomach in front of the laptop. You turned your head and kissed Peter’s jean-clad knee. “Sorry,” you said, quickly returning your attention to the article.
Peter grumbled beside you—wow, he really fell in love with the nosiest person in the universe. He lowered himself onto his stomach and rested his head on your shoulder, scanning his eyes quickly through the article.
Both of your finish reading the entire thing after a minute or two. It was a decent article; not too much unnecessary storytelling. Mostly short quippy sentences and scientifically backed advice. The journalist even cited a few hair experts from the New York City area.
Peter cleared his throat. “MJ sent me the article link by the way…just so you know...”
You snorted. “I was about to say. You don’t seem the type to google self-care articles on your free time.”
He bumped his leg against yours. “Actually, it’s none of your business if I wanna read about the top seven face masks for summer.” He pulled his laptop back in front of you and exed out the article tab, but not before bookmarking it.
“Okay. Just make sure to invite me over when you try them,” you said with a smile. “The peel-off ones are the best.”
Peter grimaced. “That sounds unpleasant.”
“It’s not. Ned and I do them all the time.”
“What the heck?” Peter turned to his side to gape at you. TFTI. “When did that become a thing? And how did I not know?”
You shrugged. “We would just hang out in your apartment when you went on patrols. Sometimes it’s more fun to watch YouTube videos when you have fruit on your face.”
You crawled over to your backpack which you had put in the corner of Peter’s bedroom. He stared at you as you dug through the pockets, his expression half-heartedly offended and bewildered. Now that he thought about it, Ned’s face did look brighter and smoother recently. He was wondering what that was all about. You had just given him the answer.
“Heads up,” you said. You threw a thick plastic tube towards Peter. He caught it easily.
It was a peel-off face mask made with—
“Grapefruit? Really?” Peter deadpanned. “You know I’m allergic.”
“No, you’re not, you doofus.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Not liking the smell is not the same thing as being allergic.” You continued digging through your backpack for your second peel-off face mask. “Here. This one up to your standards, Parker?”
You tossed him your cucumber face mask. He turned it around to read the ingredients. He brought it impractically close to his face and exaggeratedly hummed to himself. He clicked his tongue. “No can do, babe. Says here it’s manufactured in a facility that processes grapefruit—”
“Oh, shut up,” you said with a grin.
Too lazy to go wash your faces, you and Peter used your makeup wipes to clean your faces. You sat next to each other in front of the mirror behind his bedroom door to put on the face masks. The mirror was pretty narrow, and he ended up elbowing you and you shouldering him to see better. It’s all smiles and laughter though.
Finishing up, Peter turned towards you and asked, “How do I look?”
“Like a newborn baby.” You ruffled his hair and he swatted your hand away.
He gave you a lopsided grin beneath his purple-gelled face that made you want to kiss him. And you would have, you know if you both didn’t have sticky face masks on.
“But at least a cute one, right?”
“The cutest.”
His grin grew wider. “If I’m the cutest, then you’d be the second cutest newborn baby.”
“Wow. Thanks.” You leaned your head to the side and looked closer at him. “You missed a spot, Peter.”
“What? I did?” Peter whipped his head towards the mirror. Lo and behold, in his excitement, he missed some parts of his face. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I did, huh?”
You shook your head with a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll fix it.”
You grabbed the cucumber face mask tube and squeezed out a generous dollop on the back of your hand. You grabbed Peter’s chin and moved his face to the left and right, spreading the extra gel wherever he needed it. Your touch was delicate and gentle, barely grazing over his skin.
Peter hummed underneath your fingers. He watched your face scrunch up in concentration as you focused on fixing his face. He loved seeing your eyebrows furrow the tiniest bit. How you slightly pursed your lips. The focus in your eyes. God, he loved everything about you.
And times like these, the both of you relaxing and messing around, reminded him just how much he loved you.
“Alright, you’re all done—”
“I love you.”
Your hands froze inches away from his face. The cucumber face mask tube slid off your lap. You just blinked at Peter. Did he just say what you thought he said? This wasn’t a dream, right? No. You remember waking up. And this couldn’t be a joke, Peter looked too serious for that.
You just stared at him, your mouth slightly open in shock. Or surprise. Maybe it was disgust? Peter couldn’t tell. Underneath the cool tingling of his face mask, he could face his face growing warmer. Each second you didn’t react his body grew hotter with embarrassment, his hands sweatier, his brain—he was a mess.
He didn’t think. The words just came out. It felt right to say them. But maybe it was too soon. Maybe he should have saved the l-word for a later time. Maybe he made a mistake.
Shit.
Peter laughed. His throat was dry, so it sounded more like he was choking. “Ha ha…just kidding. Wait—shit. No. I mean—"
“I…Peter…I—”
“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” He shot up from the floor, his fingers fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt. Despite himself, he couldn’t shut up his nervous rambling. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He backed up against the door and gave you awkward finger guns. “I…don’t love you?”
You stood up. “What?”
“I do—I do love you. And I don’t love…Ah, shit.” He threw his head back against his mirror. It rattled against the doorway. You were afraid the glass was going to shatter.
You took a step towards him. “No, that was amazing, and I…and…And that was amazing. And you are amazing I just…” You took a deep breath and hugged your arms around your sides. “I don’t know what to say back.”
Peter didn’t want to say he was upset or disappointed that you didn’t say it back. He knew you loved him. He really did. “That’s c-cool. That’s alright,” he said. He tried to keep his insecurities to himself.
But Peter never had the best poker face.
“It’s okay. I mean…Yeah.”
You saw the corner of his mouth tremble and you groaned to yourself. “Augh, I fucked up, didn’t I? I really fucked up.”
He shook his head and waved his hands dismissively. “No, babe. It’s fine. Really.”
“Are you okay? Are we okay?” you asked.
“Yeah, I’m good. We’re totally fine, yeah.”
“You sure?” You glanced down at Peter’s hands. “You’re still doing jazz hands.”
“Oh. Right.” Still facing you, he opened the bedroom door. “I’m just gonna wash”—he vaguely gestured at his entire body—“this.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna take a shower?”
“N-No. Just wash my face. The mask is getting dry.”
He was supposed to peel it off. It was a “peel-off” face mask after all. But you just kept that fact to yourself as he opened the door wider. He looked at you with a clumsy smile and did a double-take when he saw your crestfallen face.
“It’s fine, babe. I promise,” he said, trying to stay strong.
“Okay…”
He left the door open as he walked towards the bathroom.
When you heard the bathroom door lock and close you threw yourself onto the bed. God, you felt like an idiot. “Why didn’t I say it? Why didn’t I say it?” You rubbed your hands down your face and when you pulled them away, you saw pieces of your mask stuck on your palms and fingers. You groaned and rubbed your face harder in frustration. “Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot—”
Because you did love Peter. You loved him so much. Believe it or not, those three words were on the tip of your tongue. You heard him say “I love you” and you wanted to shout them right back. But at the moment, you were stunned and grateful and giddy and so in love.
You had to fix this.
You gathered as much of the face mask peels as you could, tossed them into the trash, and walked out of Peter’s bedroom towards the bathroom.
The bathroom door was open a couple inches. Enough for you to peer into it. Peter was in front of the vanity. His hands methodically peeling the face mask away to reveal glowing, dewy skin. He shifted back and forth on his feet as he spoke to himself.
“Okay, Peter, you can do this. You got it. You got it.” He peeled the last of the mask away and threw it into the sink. “Sooooo, baby. I just wanted to let you know…What I said back there? Yeah, I meant it. And it’s okay if you don’t say it back. Like, you don’t need to say it—”
You stifled your giggle into your hand as you watched Peter talk himself up. It was cute how considerate he was. How much he cared about respecting your space and giving you time. It was one of the things you loved about it. Yeah. That you really loved about him.
You loved him.
And as you watched him stare at his reflection in the mirror, wet his fingers in the sink, wash off the remaining face mask. You thought he was absolutely perfect. Looking at him, spending time with him made you smile until your cheeks hurt. Laugh until your belly ached. He was awkward and perfect and funny and perfect and smart and perfect.
It was decided then.
You took a deep breath and as Peter turned towards the towel rack.
Three…Two…One…
You kicked down the door and yelled: “I love you!”
“Oh, shit!” Scared half to death, Peter slipped. He grabbed the towel rack to steady himself, but he ripped it off its hinges and took it with him as he fell on his back. May’s embroidered white towels covered his face and he groaned in pain. “Ow…”
“I’m sorry!” you hurried over to his side. You pulled the towels off of his face. Expecting to see him knocked out, you were pleasantly surprised to see him smiling like a huge dork. “I’m so sorry, Peter. I didn’t know that would happen.”
“It’s fine.” He chuckled and sat up, leaning against the bathtub. He tossed the towel rack bar to the side and patted the empty space beside him. You took it, sitting so your shoulder was pressed against his. “I probably should have seen it coming anyway. Peter-tingle and all.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
You both sat quietly like that for a while, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Silently, Peter brushed his hands against yours, and you intertwined your fingers between his. He squeezed your hand once. You squeezed it back.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if you felt like you had to say it. I’d never want to make you do something you’re uncomfortable with.”
You shook your head. “I wanted to say it, Peter.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I love you, Peter.”
“I love you, too.”
You turned towards him. “I kind of like saying it.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, turning his body towards you as well.
“Yeah. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Then you kissed him. A sweet kiss that had Peter pulling you into his lap, your fingers in his hair, his hands caressing your face. You both pulled away breathless and panting.
He ran his thumb over your cheekbones. “Your face is soft.”
You smiled. “You smell like cucumbers.”
“And you smell like grapefruit.” He pressed another kiss to your lips then hummed, considering. “I think I might like grapefruit now.”
First Words | First Date | First Kiss | First Night Out
pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader
summary: While you and Billy have been dating for a while, you have yet to have your first kiss. Which is fine! He’d never want to rush you. But he’s getting antsy. He’s never waited this long for a kiss, and more importantly: he’s never liked someone so much before.
warnings: none (it’s pure fluff bbs)
word count: 1.6k
a/n: The “Firsts Series” documents your firsts with Billy Hargrove. | I haven’t written for Billy since last year, so excuse me if I’m a little rusty. But thank you to all the love I’ve gotten for all my Billy fics recently! Let me know if you guys have anymore ideas for firsts with Billy. Hope you enjoy this fic!
♥ Shan
Not that Billy and you hadn’t kissed at all.
You kissed his cheek a lot. A short, sweet peck as a greeting or goodbye. An innocent, cute gesture that had Billy craving more.
He would never push you. This relationship was new territory for both of you. The last thing he wanted to do was move too fast when you weren’t ready.
So, he was patient.
Or, at least, tried to be.
Since he couldn’t have your lips (not yet anyway), he’d often take your hands in his and kiss each of your knuckles. The tips of your fingers. The inside of your wrist. These little kisses of his would have you smile until your cheeks hurt.
///
You giggled as he kissed up the inside of your arm, not breaking eye contact with you all the while. He continued kissing up your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. Then he stopped short of your lips.
You were always sitting in his lap when he pulled this stunt. Always so close, yet so far. He wasn’t subtle as his eager hands gripped your hips and pulled you flush against his chest. He kept glancing down at your lips before meeting your gaze again.
“Sweetheart…” he whispered, his voice breathless. Wanting. Desperate.
He barely restrained himself from just tipping his head forward and kissing the hell out of you. But, again, he wanted you to initiate it.
You were testing him, though. He could tell by the way your eyes slightly narrowed mischievously.
You smoothed your hands up his chest. He hummed as you wrapped them around the back of his neck. Your finger twirled around the curls there and you cocked your head to the side.
“You’re driving me crazy, baby,” he said. You tightened your grip on his hair and he groaned. Jesus Christ he was needy. “Such a tease.”
You stuck your tongue out at him. He threw his hair back in exasperation and closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to have your tongue in his mouth. He was getting hard just thinking about it.
“That’s not fair,” he whined. “You’re cruel, woman.”
You snorted. He continued grumbling complaints until you ran your nose up the side of his neck to sate him. He growled lowly when you brushed your lips over his Adam’s apple. Mimicking his movements from before as you trailed your kisses along his jawline.
With his eyes closed, he was extra sensitive to the location of your mouth. He grinned as it got closer and closer to his lips. And just as you got close to finally kissing him the way he wanted you to—you pulled away.
He growled, horny and annoyed. He laid back on his bed, pulling you with him. You muffled your laughter into his shoulder, hugging your arms around his chest.
“Oh, quit it,” Billy said. “You’re just torturing at me this point.”
“That was the plan,” you replied, nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder. He glared down at you and you winked at him.
“You know, I didn’t have to work this hard for a kiss since…” he trailed off and you sat up, anticipating his answer. He tossed his head side to side in mock consideration.
You fell for his bait. “Since when?”
“Never. That was the point,” he deadpanned. You smacked his chest and he chuckled. “I mean, c’mon, look at me: does it look like I had to ask for kisses? They kind of just came to me.”
He expected you to have a short, sarcastic reply. Something that cut at his ego. Or, for you to at least roll your eyes or playfully hit him again. But when he looked down at you and you were completely silent, your lips pulled into a thin line…
He knew he must have said something wrong.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Did I say something—”
You shook your head cryptically, effectively cutting him off. He stared at you as you pulled away from him and sat up. You slid off his bed and began silently gathering your stuff from off Billy’s bedroom floor.
“Why’re you leaving?” Billy asked, cluelessness and panic evident in his tone.
Your eyes cut towards his digital alarm clock on his nightstand. He looked at the clock—it was twenty minutes to ten. Right, your curfew. And here he was overreacting that you were leaving because he fucked up.
Relief rolled over his shoulders. But still…something was off. The timing of your exit seemed a little too convenient considering your unfinished conversation.
“Let me help,” Billy offered anyway. Billy shot up from his bed and began stacking your textbooks and notes into neat piles. He put your eraser and pen back in your pencil case and handed you everything to put in your backpack.
You zipped up the main pocket and hauled one strap over your shoulder. Then you turned towards the bedroom door to walk out.
Any other time he would have followed after you. But now, Billy didn’t want to end the night on such an awkward note, though.
He reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Wait.” You froze and slowly spun around, an eyebrow raised. “Are we okay?” he asked, quietly.
You gave him a reassuring smile and held his hand. You squeezed his palm and he squeezed yours back. While he was grateful for your assurance, he somehow felt like you were holding something back.
“Come here for a sec,” he said.
You pulled off your backpack, set it down, and sat beside him on the side of the bed. He held both of your hands and rubbed his thumbs along the back of your palms.
“Billy?” you asked, concerned.
“I’m sorry if my bringing up the other girls I’ve been with upset you,” he began. You shook your head again and he smiled. “I know you pretend it doesn’t hurt or annoy you, but you don’t have to hide that from me. Alright?”
“Alright.”
“I’ll do my best to not bring it up,” he continued. “Which is fine, since I just want to focus on us, anyway. You’re important to me, you know that?”
You nodded, a soft smile on your face.
“Good. And if it’s any consolation, I’d probably get hurt or annoyed if you ever talked about the boys you’d been with.”
You tensed up. Billy noticed and looked into your eyes. You looked back hesitantly, your face gradually growing redder and redder. He registered your bashfulness and then everything clicked for him. Why you weren’t one-hundred percent comfortable with PDA. Why you froze up when he mentioned one of his exes…
“Oooooohhhhh,” he exclaimed. “You haven’t been with everyone else.”
He didn’t even phrase it as a question.
You groaned and pulled your hands out of Billy’s to hide your face in your palms. He laughed beside you, none too smoothly transitioning into a fit of coughs when you glared at him from between your fingers.
“What? I’m kind of grateful that I’m the only guy you’ve been with,” he said with a smirk. Great, he was gloating. “Means I don’t have to go beat up your exes if they’d treated you badly.”
You sighed and fell back on to the bed, rolling over so you were face down. This way, your boyfriend couldn’t see how embarrassed you were.
“Oh, don’t be like that, babe.” You felt the mattress dip as Billy laid beside you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him. He pressed kisses into your hair, whispering how adorable you were. He bragged about how since he was your first boyfriend, therefore, he was your best boyfriend. That was stupid logic.
Then he grew still. “Wait…” he said, thinking. “Does that mean you haven’t had your first kiss yet either?”
You groaned into Billy’s duvet. It sounded a lot like: “What do you think, genius?!”
“Alright, alright,” he said with a chuckle. “Could you at least look at me when I say this?” he asked, a rare fondness in his voice.
You rolled over so you were on your side looking at him. At least now your blush had calmed down and you were no longer steeping in embarrassment.
Billy cleared his throat. “Excuse my cheesiness, okay?” He took a deep breath and looked into your eyes with a look of pure devotion. “No relationship or twenty, I don’t care. I’d never want to push you or rush you. It’s important to me that you’re comfortable with me. You know…because I…” he trailed off and your eyes widened. “I…I really like you…”
The corner of your mouth twitched upward into a lopsided grin. You knew it took a lot out of him to admit that. Maybe it was his show of vulnerability or the shyness seeping into his demeanor. Perhaps it was both of those things and everything that Billy had done for you ever since you started dating. Whatever it was, you felt like this was the best moment out of any.
So, you kissed Billy Hargrove.
He was stunned as you finally pressed your lips against his. After a moment, he finally got a hold of himself and kissed you back. He moved his mouth against yours, gentle and soft and tender. It was everything he dreamed about and more.
He was grinning like an idiot when you pulled away.
It was nice to see you were grinning back at him.
He caressed your cheek with his hand. A tiny part of him felt giddy and fluttery when you leaned into his palm.
And in true Billy Hargrove style, he asked, “Does that mean we can make out whenever I come over now?”
You rolled your eyes and slapped his hand away. You got off the bed and put on your backpack, nailing him with a look that said: way to ruin the moment.
Black and White Series (WIP) - Billy Hargrove x Pianist!Reader | You knew that breaking into the school to use the piano would come back to bite you. You just wish that karma hadn’t manifested in the form of Billy Hargrove. And thus begins a game of cat and mouse that has much graver consequences than either of you predicted.
one | two
Firsts Series - A series documenting Billy’s firsts with you.
First Words ◆ - There’s a rainstorm and half of Hawkins takes shelter in Benny’s Diner. You and Billy happen to be caught in similar situations. A little too similar, actually.
First Date ◇ - First dates can be a difficult thing (especially if all your friends hate the guy you’re dating). But somehow you two make it easy, and that’s always something to cherish.
First Kiss ◇ - While you and Billy have been dating for a while, you have yet to have your first kiss. Which is fine! He’d never want to rush you. But he’s getting antsy. He’s never waited this long for a kiss, and more importantly: he’s never liked someone so much before.
First Night Out* ◇ - A simple study break. A simple date. Billy simply wanting to treat his girl. It was a simple drive-in movie theater date. What could possibly go wrong?
Better than the Sun ◇◆ - Billy’s old friend from California is coming to visit and it sparks a conversation that reveals your and Billy’s insecurities about your relationship and future.
Something Like That* - You’re just volunteering at the Snow Ball and trying to ensure the Party has a good time after all the hell they’ve been through. But then the human equivalent of a hurricane enters the mix and damage control becomes your new job title.
Billy’s Sweatshirt - Yes, i know this is your sweatshirt and that we broke up five months ago but it’s really comfy okay. I totally don’t wear it because like it still smells like you, or is the only thing that even remotely feels like home since I moved out. Pfft. Absolutely not.
Same Page* ◇ - @hargroovin‘s 100 Writing Prompts + 6. Why are you tugging on my hair | Billy and the reader just hang out in his bedroom and be cute, fluffy, and soft together.
