tom holland oneshots

chatter box

warnings: none

summary: reader is insecure about how much they talk

word count: 700

(requested) thanks for being so patient; hope u don't mind i made it gender-neutral

didn't proofread

Peter had brought sandwiches from Delmars, getting Y/N's special order while she managed to get some fruit from Ned's tray. 

"Hey, babe," he sat down next to them. 

"Do you think that because bananas are considered berries that it has something to do with the chemicals in it? Oh, hey Peter," they stopped to look at him briefly before continuing. "Because strawberries aren't actually berries -- but are raspberries? If blueberries are berries then they obviously aren't classified by shape and I don't think by taste but maybe by the type of seed, though that would also be pushing it-"

"I'm so confused," Ned breathed out, dipping his plastic fork into his creamy mac 'n' cheese. Peter laughed from beside them, removing the sandwiches from their bags. 

"I guess you'd have to ask a fruit expert," he grinned softly. 

After discussing it with MJ, the four of them made their way down the hallways as the bell rang, talking to entertain each other. 

"Y/L/N," Mrs. Rokatzge interrupted them, "please sit down and stop talking."

They nodded, looking to their lap as kids stifled their laughs. Peter sent sentimental looks just as she began teaching. 

After a few minutes, the teacher called on Y/N. "How many do you think there are?"

"Uhm," Y/N looked at the board before answering. "I would guess around 120 based on the volume of the container and the mass it can carry, though it would also depend on the size of the items and the stability of the container and what it's made of and-"

"Holy shit, someone needs to teach blabber mouth over here how to shut up," Flash laughed, looking to the students in satisfaction as they laughed at his remark. 

"That'll be enough of that, Thompson," Rokatzge said. "Thank you, Y/N. That'll do."

Y/N looked down, rubbing their left eye and doodling in the notebook sitting open on the table. When the bell rang, Y/N had walked as quickly as possible to last period, avoiding all students at all costs. It was one of their favorite classes, though today it was just an obstacle in the way of the journey home. 

When school let out, Y/N went straight to her locker where Peter always met up with them. They were switching books into the backpack as Peter came up. 

"Hey babe," he greeted them. "How was last period?"

Y/N mumbled out a reply, closing the locker and taking Peter's hand in their own, just as they always did for the walk home. Peter's brow furrowed but he mentioned nothing. 

The walk home was silent and almost tense between the teens, and Peter tried to appreciate the comfortable silence, but his gut and his Peter tingle told him things were far from fine. Just as they reached Peter's building, Flash drove by. 

"Sup Penis, sup blabber mouth!" He yelled, peace sign sticking up out of the convertible. 

Peter rolled his eyes as he felt Y/N tense up, and the concern in the pit of his stomach grew. He led them upstairs, out of the elevator and into the empty apartment, a note from May on the fridge. 

Y/N went straight to Peter's room, dropping their backpack on ground by the desk before removing their shoes and plopping on the bed, pulling one of Peter's hoodies over their figure. 

"Hey babe, you want some pizza? I May said we could order something -- unless you want Chinese." 

"Mhm."

Peter, who was standing in the doorway, moved to sit next to them. "Y/N," he said. "Y/N look at me," he grabbed one of their hands, pulling them closer. "What's wrong?"

"Are you.." they whispered. "Are you embarrassed because of me?"

"What? Why?"

"I don't know," they mumbled. 

"Y/N," Peter repeated, head tilting. 

"I just- I feel like everyone says I talk too much and I just wanted to see if you were ashamed about-"

"Baby, baby," he slowed them. "Look at me," he intertwined their fingers. "I love you and I love how much you talk, okay?"

Y/N nodded weakly, looking down. 

"I love you voice, your lovely and soft voice that always manages to calm me when my senses are going crazy or when I wake up from a nightmare. Your voice that gets me to sleep. I love how much you talk, and that you never fail to chatter away about how much you love me. I love how much you talk because it makes me feel better, it makes me love you more."

Y/N wiped a tear away, embracing Peter in a giant hug, arms around him. "Thank you, Peter," they whispered.

"Don't ever listen to what Flash or those other losers say. I love you; nothing could ever change that."