And Then I Wrote Marvel

Skittles (Peter Parker x Reader)

School started, so what did I do? I write this back-to-school one-shot for you guys! Other exciting news: this is my first request. I mean, my little sister requested it, but it's a request all the same. Yes, I take requests. Gosh, I'm using the word "request" a lot. Request doesn't even sound like a word anymore. Request. Weird. Also, (Y/F/N) is Your Friend's Name.

"Ow! Seriously, Parker?"

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, (Y/N)!"

"I don't understand how you manage to drop your stupid Calculus book on my head every freaking day."

"I don't know either...it just happens. I really am sorry. Um...I have a Snickers if you want one?"

"Almost tempting, except for the fact that I'm allergic to peanuts. I thought you would have known that by now." You stormed off, promising yourself that you would take every precaution to avoid having to go to your locker between second and third period.

"Do you like chocolate then?" he called after you, but you either couldn't hear him or were ignoring him. "Smooth, Parker, smooth. Especially for the kid that sticks to everything he touches."

He walked off to Calculus, trying to think of any good candy bars without peanuts. You were sure missing out on a lot. He sat down at his desk, where he was placed next to (Y/F/N). She noticed his contemplativeness, which wasn't unusual, necessarily, but he looked more troubled than was the norm.

"Y'okay, Pete?"

"What's (Y/N)'s favorite candy bar?" he blurted out.

"What? Where is this coming from?"

He took a breath, slowing himself down. "Have you heard about how I manage to drop my Calculus book on her every day?" She nodded her head slowly. "Well, she was really mad about it today, and I offered her the Snickers that I had in my backpack."

"Didn't you know that she's allergic to peanuts?"

"I guess not. She yelled at me about that, too. So I'm trying to think of a candy bar that she likes."

"She likes Skittles, I guess. Just so you know, she skipped breakfast this morning, too, so that's mostly why she's yelling so much."

"I still feel bad for dropping my book on her. Consistently. Every day. Ugh." He dropped his head onto the table, like a facepalm. Face-table?

"She doesn't actually mind. There was a kid in sixth grade that dropped his clarinet case on her head. She laughs when she tells the story."

"(Y/N) just has the most rotten luck with locker neighbors."

"She only thinks so about sixth grade. She would probably say that her junior year top locker neighbor's cuteness factor is worth the book drop."

"What?!" Peter turned bright red.

(Y/F/N) realized what she had said and replied quickly with her own, "What?"

"What did you say?"

"I said 'what.'"

"No, before that."