Scene That I Want To See In "Spider-Man 2: Prom"

Lol imagine thinking they don't love eachother,,,,,,,,, can't relate

“My first meeting with Zendaya was very embarrassing actually, for me. It was just one of those moments where it just wasn’t my smoothest moment.”

"I don’t remember this, but he says that there was some kind of awkward hug, shake thing.”

Spiderman - I AM A MAN

Slowly falling in love with Peter

okay, sometimes I like to think what it would be like and I write in my fanfictions (but they are in portuguese) and I wanted to share with you guys, so here we are

i’m sorry that i don’t know how to write fluff. I’m used to be a drama queen but hey! its always time to try new things, right?

hope you like it

(crappy english ahead)

You can see my other pieces here: Starstruck au!  and  13 Going on 30 au! 

i think it would be like you two study in Midtown but never crossed paths

you have heard of Peter but you never thought deeply about him

you might have one or two classes together

detail: he always lived in the building across the street

the train you ride to go to school would be the same as his

but again you’ve never noticed him

mostly ‘cause the train was always full

until one day

it was a raining day and you woke up late for school

you just threw on a hoodie and forgot to wear proper pants, keeping the captain america pajama pants

and you got very wet on the way into and out the train, running like never before

when you got to the class soaked and feeling dizzy you looked for your seat

you spent the whole Chemistry class sneezing and feeling cold

“hey, are you alright?”

you looked beside you where the voice came from and surprised yourself

there was that boy that you’ve never talked before

what you heard about Peter Parker was that he was the sweetest and smartest boy in Midtown

you tried to sound fine but your mouth kept shaking while you answered

“y-yeah, j-just feeling a l-little cold” “you’re soaking wet, are you sure?” “uh-hu. It’s fine”

but Peter being Peter didn’t let it go that easily

when the period was over he ran into you and touched you lightly in the shoulder

you turned around to find him wearing the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen

“um… I have some gym clothes in my locker that you could wear. I-If you want to, of course!”

you never paid attention to him before and he was now helping you

“it’s okay, Peter. I-I’m fine” “it would be just a minute!”

before you could say anything, he ran through the corridor and back with clothes in his hand

you smiled at him and thought to yourself: nobody has ever done anything like this for me

“i’ll go and change” 

you ran into the bathroom and changed your wet clothes to Peter’s gym clothes and dried yourself with some papertowels

when you left the bathroom you found Peter waiting for you and he just smiled again melting your heart

“as much as I liked your Cap’s pants, I prefer my gym shorts”

he just stared for a moment and then took off his hoodie, giving it to you

“here, take it” “no, Peter, it’s okay” “I insist”

and you took it

and you never forgot his scent again

after that you started noticing Peter everywhere you went

and you realized that you never saw him in Delmar’s or some classes or by the window sitting in his desk studying or in the train 

it was crazy how you never really saw Peter Parker before that

you started to get closer one day when the train ride was almost empty and you sat by his side, watching him taking one of his earbuds off to hear what you had to say

“hey, I never thanked you for that day so… thank you for helping me. And I’m bringing your clothes tomorrow!”

he just molded his lips in that shape that you thought for hours and hours never leaving your mind

“it’s f-fine, Y/N. If you need anything, y-you can call me… or…” “maybe we should hang out some time”

at first, he was surprised by your offer

but he smiled again and offered you one of his earbuds

“do you like music?” “of course! I’m human, right?”

he mentally slaped himself and blushed hard

so you two started to talk more and more

your boring train ride turned into a laugh session with him that you wished that would never end

History and Chem would be way more fun with him sitting by your side and passing notes about how Iron Man was better than Cap

and you would laugh for hours

lunches would be shorter when you passed by his side

he even introduced you to his friends!

you and Ned clicked right away and Michelle… well, Michelle is Michelle

friday nights would be busy with movie marathons in Neds

and it was all good until one day

you were having a Star Wars marathon in Neds and Peter sat by your side in the couch

Ned was sitting on the floor and slowly falling asleep

and you and Peter were the only ones awake

but it was a stressful day for the boy ‘cause he had a Spanish quiz and had to do lots of Chem homework

it all led him to be the epitome of tiredness

and in a blink, he was laying on the free space on the couch and looked so comfortable that you couldn’t just not stare

when Episode III was almost in the end you found yourself yawning and your eyes closing more and more

you didn’t remember how you fell asleep

but you remembered very well to wake up laying on his chest

it was awkward when you woke up from the flash of Neds cellphone sound

Peter immediatly got up and you just sat there blushing h a r d 

after that day you and Peter didn’t really talk for a couple of days

not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t

not after you realized

you liked Peter. A lot.

so you started to watch him from your window

often he would be in his desk studying or trying to fix pieces that he would collect from the streets

it was all normal until

“what’s that climbing onto Peters window?”

HOLY SHIT

Spider-man

and then you saw spider-man taking off his mask

and surprise again, it was peter fucking parker.

you tried your best to ignore him in school, Delmars, the train, everywhere basically 

but

it was inevitable to not talk to him one morning when the train was empty and you and him were the only ones there

“why are you ignoring me? Is that because you slept in my chest? ‘Cause it’s alright, i kinda liked and…” “when were you gonna tell me you’re spider-man? And… wait, you liked? “WHAT?”

he tried his best to deny that he was spider-man, but after a lot of invalid arguments he just gave up

and he literally begged on his knees to you keep it as a secret

your friendship was back again and now built in trust and love

he even invited you to study sessions in his apartament

and you met May and she loved you

“Peter has a pretty girl friend and never told me?”

hard blushing 

one night you were reading a book and heard something in your window

you looked for something to use as a weapon and found your shoe

when you came closer to the window you found Peter leaning on and looking terrible

“oh fuck, what happened to you?” “I was fighting bad guys and didn’t end very well. Wait… were you going to hit me with your shoe?” “Forget about that. Sit on the bed now”

he did as told to and you looked for something to fix his wounds and bruises

when you got back with a first-aid kit you started to clean his fresh wounds and clean the blood while he tried to maintain his composure

“ok Peter, I found really cool that you were spider-man at first but now I’m scared as shit” “how come?” “you never showed up with open-up wounds. I used to ignore the bruises but now I’m worried about you” “you… you worry about me?”

his face was so precious. it looked like he had stars in his eyes

“of course I do, silly. I care a lot about you” “I never thought so” “now you know so.”

that night, when he left, you couldn’t stop smiling at the warmth of his body and how much you would like to have that moment again and again

after that he would always show up in your apartament looking for help with his wounds and bruises and of course, you would always help him

night after night he would spend more time in your room just looking for a talk to distract him and you would laugh for hours

one day at lunch you sat at the usual table and found Ned already sitting there

when you asked where was Peter he didn’t know how to answer

but you found the answer when you looked at the cafeteria entrance and found Peter not alone, but in the company of Liz Allan

he was wearing the same sweet smile that he used to give to you and made you feel special and now you felt awful

maybe he didn’t like you that way

oh, that’s okay. I didn’t expect to

but you did

that night you were laying on your bed with your tears burning your cheeks while you tried to sleep

you totally forgot about Peter until he jumped inside your room, bringing snacks on his other arm

when you saw him you immediatly tried to wipe the tears away

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him, so you just smiled and breathed slowly

“nothing. Just allergies.” “oh, okay. I brought some snacks for us…” “if you don’t mind, I’m a little tired tonight and tomorrow will be a long day, so…” “uh, alright. If you need me…” “yeah, I know”

the next day you asked Ned if Peter and Liz were a thing

Ned tried to keep it to himself but he couldn’t not tell you. 

“Peter kinda likes her”

it broke you entirely

you feld your legs go numb and your body trying to float away but you just stood there smiling again, reassuring him that you were okay

then you started to avoid Peter again

you would just give him excuses about not feeling well or being late for something or even busy

you just couldn’t look at his face when his star-eyes weren’t meant for you

he even stopped coming in your room at night

it was like that until one day you were trying to sleep and heard a sound and sat up right away

you saw Peter climbing into your room and looking at you with worry

“Y/N? Sorry to wake you up.” “what are you doing here, Peter?” “shit, I’m… Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?” “do you like Liz?”

your question caught him off guard and you felt stupid

“what?” “do you care about me at all?” “why would you say that? Of course I do!” “then why don’t you show that? I know Liz is way more pretty and smart than I am but I’m still your friend!” “shit, Y/N. What’s going on?” “admit it!” “admit what?” “admit that you like her. Please finish this so I can live in peace and not in the dark again.” “I used to like Liz. But now I don’t”

you felt your chest getting smaller at every sentence

Peter sat right next to you and watched your face

even in the dark you could see his beautiful features and your heart was racing the time with anxiety

“then why would you come here every night? If you were looking for a friend, why wouldn’t you come to Ned’s or Michelle’s?” “because I wasn’t.”

he got even closer and looked you in your eyes. 

again, you could see the stars in it and felt a warmth spreading over your chest and your cold hand got warm

he was holding it

“I care about you. I like you or… or even m-more.”

with that he pecked your lips in a fast and sweet kiss that left the taste of his soft ones lingering there

that’s when you realized 

you were slowly falling in love with Peter Parker

Dear Fanfiction authors that are coming out of the woodwork due to Civil War and Homecoming.

It’s spelled Spider-Man. Not Spiderman. Not Spider-man. Thank you for your time, keep up the good work, and best of luck with your stories.

Sincerely yours, A fan with a pet peeve.

gilbert: anne and i do not have pet names for each other!

bash: oh, is that so? do you know what bees make, gilbert?

gilbert: honey…?

anne, from the other room: yes dear?

bash: don’t lie to my face ever again.

Rey really thought she could change a man that murdered his own father LMAOO 😭😭🤦🏾‍♂️

A … Slowly, Gently … Johnlock collection

the posh boy problem

Posh boy left his mug on the papers again. It will leave a rim on the sports section.

John goes over to the living room table. Then he stops in his tracks. It’s happened again, hasn’t it? More and more often he finds himself giving Sherlock silly petnames in his head. He was never a friend of those, can hardly explain why he is doing it now – in his own thoughts – but something about it calms and provokes him at the same time. He picks up the half-emptied mug of cold tea and thinks this over on his walk to the kitchen sink.

He likes Sherlock. He knows this, has known this for literally ages. That he likes him, and that he likes him in a way that Sherlock most definitely won’t find appealing. Sexually. There, he said it. In his head, of course, never out loud. But Sherlock, with his many frustrating qualities, of which many where outrageously attractive to John, is practically forcing him to feel provoked. Those feelings then lead to … petnames, apparently. He’s had stranger coping mechanisms before.

In his head greets him with hey, handsome in the morning, those wonderful mornings where Sherlock has actually slept and still looks all soft and not quite awake. He calls him genius when he is being too clever again and doesn’t notice, calls him pretty man and silly git and sweetheart when he’s feeling like it, and, of course, posh boy. He doesn’t even know what it is about that one in particular, but he finds that to be the worst. For his sexual frustration, that is. Every time it comes up in his head, which is more and more often, it fuels his imagination vividly. So much that it has even made it to his bedroom and he has dreams, half-asleep, half-awake, about teaching posh boy a lesson, getting posh boy a little dirty, treating posh boy a little rough. These are all terrible thoughts. Because they will stay just as imaginary and sexually frustrating. Posh boy won’t love him back, after all.

One morning Sherlock sits in front of his microscope on the kitchen table. He hasn’t moved for at least two hours. Nothing unusual. In fact, it was how they spend most of their Sundays now. John doesn’t really date anymore, and even if he did, he would not trade these days for anything. They have fallen into this pattern a while ago, the pattern of staying in on lazy Sundays, waking up later and waiting for the other to have breakfast together. Now Sherlock occupies himself with some experiment on maggots and fingers (John doesn’t even ask) and John is sitting in his chair. He is reading a novel about an incredibly clever and cunning explorer who kind of reminds him of Sherlock (he can’t help it, as much as he would like to). Being absorbed in the book, he is confused at first when Sherlock calls him from the kitchen.

“John?”

“Hmh?”

With Sherlock this is either going to be of highest importance or an absurdly unnecessary request.

“Care to pass me my phone?”

John sighs loudly. The latter. Thought so.

“Where is your phone?”

“Breast pocket.”

With his eyes rolling at the ceiling John puts a bookmark in his book, places it on the table next to him and gets off his chair. Walking into the kitchen, he murmurs under his breath.

“I see posh boy’s being a lazy butthead again…”

He takes the phone out of Sherlock’s breast pocket and holds it out for him. But instead of taking it and paying no more attention to him, Sherlock is suddenly staring at him like his face was on fire. John frowns at him. Sherlock, in turn, raises one brow.

“Posh?”

John’s eyes widen in shock and his heart jumps once in his chest and then stops, he thinks, just stops, and he wants to melt and become one with the floorboards. This is bad.

“I’m not posh,” Sherlock complains.

He must notice how John is only blushing more deeply. How? How did he say that out loud without noticing? How the bloody hell could he?

John clears his throat and decides to go along with it. There is no more turning back from here on anyway.

“You… are, actually. Just look at you, you with your… cheekbones. Your… perfectly tailored suits, your annoying British accent and deep voice-”

“We all have British accents.”

“I know!” John is enormously embarrassed, and he feels that if he doesn’t take a long walk right now, he will punch something to calm his inner unsettlement. “I need air.”

But Sherlock isn’t finished. “If anything, you are the posh one, John.”

“Hah! How so, Sherlock Holmes? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Have you looked around this flat in the past years? There are piles of magazines in the corners of every room, there is a Cluedo board pinned to the wall by me, I leave my things wherever I please, the kitchen is a mess of syringes and human body parts – an organised and well structured mess if you know where to look, but not the point right now – and I am currently examining maggots. In contrast to this you, John Watson, are a doctor, you wear your chequered shirts buttoned up to your chin, you’ve lived a clean life not suffering from a drug addiction, have had girlfriends and relationships and altogether live as part of the middle-class society in Central London. You wish for a wife and children and probably a German Shepard and a house in the suburbs, or at least that’s what you think you want, so tell me, John: How am I the posh one?”

John has a hard time finding a response to this that doesn’t only consist of loose vowels. It takes him a good minute, but Sherlock is oddly patient with him.

“First of all,” he manages then, “ I don’t think I want a wife and children, thank you very much. And maybe… maybe I’m not that serious when I call you things like that.”

“So why do you?”

“What?” John’s heart began beating faster once more. He’s so tense.

“Why do you call me a posh… boy?”

Oh fuck, hearing those two words spoken out loud and together and out of Sherlock’s mouth, for God’s sake!

“I- I don’t. Why- why should I even tell you? You read my mind all the time, can I not be allowed to keep this one thing to myself for once?!”

Sherlock narrows his eyes and observes him from head to toe. Oh please no. “No, that’s not it.”

“Alright, you know what? It’s you. Okay? It’s your fault! You just make me so angry all the time. No, don’t- don’t look at me like that.”

Sherlock’s eyes have gone wide and very blue. He looks genuinely hurt by this. Scared even. Scared at what John would say next, what this would mean for them. John feels and shares his pain, and he hates himself for every word he has ever said that would make Sherlock look like this. He is vulnerable and human, after all. Even if he tries to convince everyone around him that he isn’t, John has to stop falling for Sherlock’s own defence mechanism.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… what you said. There’s no wife and there is no house in the suburbs for me, Sherlock. I just can’t see it. But I see this.” He means Baker Street, means 221B, means … Sherlock. “This life. With you.”

Sherlock’s eyes are still so very blue. He wants to lose himself in them.

“And that makes you angry?” Sherlock asks.

“What? No. I’m just. Forget it.”

John finally has the courage to turn around and go, or maybe he lacks the courage to face him and stay, but either way he walks back into the sitting room, prepared to put on his jacket and leave the house for at least two hours. Sherlock jumps up and follows him.

“John! Wait. We never say what we want to say.”

John swirls around, his mouth a thin line of held back emotions. He stands close to the door. Ready to flee. “And what do you wanna say?”

Sherlock takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there is courage in the one and fear in the other.

“Me too.”

“Sorry?”

“Me too. I see this, too. Us. This life we share.”

John bites the insides of his mouth because his whole skin feels hot with disbelief and wonder and hope, oh god, so much hope that he doesn’t let himself own.

“What?” he asks instead, going for a weak smile, “You don’t see yourself with a wife and children?”

Sherlock huffs a laugh. “No. Weirdly I don’t.”

They smile at each other.

“So ‘posh boy’,” Sherlock says after a while, “is actually about…?”

“Me being an ungrateful moron? Me never saying what I should say before it’s too late? Me trying to get my anger at all of this under control? Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”

Sherlock looks down at the spot between his feet. He’s thinking. But not as he usually is, not fast and calculating and mechanical. He’s thinking about the right thing to do. The things he has always wanted to do, but never thought it to be right or appropriate or good for them.

“I can wait for you to figure this out.”

“Wait for me?”

“As long as you need, John. We both agreed, didn’t we? Both of us don’t plan on leaving or getting married and reproduce anytime soon, so.”

“You don’t like waiting,” John points out, but he is already incredibly relieved and impressed by Sherlock’s words.

“No, I don’t. But I like you.”

John doesn’t flee to take an hour-long walk that day. He would never trade a lazy Sunday with Sherlock Holmes, after all. Sherlock continues with his experiment, and John reads. Later they watch telly together and Sherlock yells at the incompetent game show host on BBC One. He said he could wait till John figures this out, whatever this is. But maybe they both don’t have to wait that long. Maybe, just maybe, posh boy could actually love him back.

…to be continued…

@just–elope

Mj X Peter (Insp: @/ lastgayjedi on twitter)

This legit happened in my session lmao

rey and ben:

everyone in the theatre, fucking immediately: