Mob!peter Fan Club For Life - Tumblr Posts

Rebloggers (of whomever, but especially of @withahappyrefrain) are not considered stalkers, and bingeing fanfic is like the essential oil/panacea of fandom. Without bingeing, we would all be walking around with our cheek muscles twitching due to stress. Plus it is written into the rules (unwritten due to the code of silence of the rules) of the mob!peter fan club that one must reblog all things. So you've got this. So let it be (un)written, so let it be done. Bonus points to everyone who got that reference....

Edit to add: extreme apologies for the spelling mishap of bingeing, I blame the extra glass of wine and I'm too lazy to correct it whilst yet being drunk enough to type out this edit.

Can I borrow your height?

Summary: Reader is quite short and is in need of someone tall to help her get a book off the highest shelf. Her assistance comes in the form of a tall, lanky Peter Parker.

Note: I want to thank @agnesamarantheastwood for blessing us with the concept of Peter Parker and reader having a height difference. It has been the gift that keeps on giving.

Being short had its benefits. As a child, you were a pro at hide and seek because you could fit in the smallest places. As a teenager, no one questioned if you ordered off the kids menu (which your wallet loved). As an adult, nothing was more hilarious than seeing the horror in a child’s eyes when you told them how you didn’t eat your veggies and that was why you stopped growing. And sometimes their parents appreciated it.

You worked around the disadvantages. You had three different step stools in your house of varying heights. The top shelves in your apartment were collecting dust. If friends wanted to annoy you and use you as an arm rest, you just had to deal (or make a remark about the weather up there).

But right now, in this very moment, being short sucked.

You had gone to three-yes three-different bookstores. You needed this book for your book club and knew that stores were always cheaper than websites. But each time you went, the book had been sold out. Which is why before you went here, the fourth one, you called ahead of time to see if they had in stock. Which they did!

They failed to mention it was on the highest shelf. They also failed to mention that they were too good for step stools.

Even if you stood on the first shelf-which you had no shame in doing-your arms still weren’t long enough to reach it. You began climbing up to the second shelf when your flats started to slip. There went that plan. You had checked your purse to see if you had anything long enough to help you knock it over and were out of luck.

You lurked around the store, trying to find an employee. Employees were either completely out of sight or at the register, helping people.

You sighed. What was suppose to be a quick errand was now turning into a pain in the ass.

You walked down the aisle of books, desperate to find someone-anyone-for help. You were glad you were looking up, otherwise you would have missed the sight of some long fingers reaching up for a book on the fourth shelf.

Sometimes-due to being single for so long-your mind would exaggerate how attractive someone was. Not this time. This man was the definition of handsome. He honestly looked like the guy you would see on the cover of those romance novels your book club loved so much. With that chiseled jaw that was covered in stubble, the few strands of hair that were swooping over his forehead, and those biceps that were peeking out from his T-shirt-

Those long, slender fingers were attached to a large hand, which was attached to a long arm that was attached to a very tall, very lanky, and very handsome man.

Fuck you were so single.

But nevertheless, he was quite tall. And lanky. Which you needed right now. Perhaps you could make this work to your advantage. One that wasn’t solely related to your book club.

“Um, excuse me?” As you got closer to him, you realized that you barely came up to his shoulder- and he was slouching. Was it a cliché that you had a thing for men much taller than you? Maybe. But it was a cliché for a reason.

You slowly walked over to him, his head still looking through the book he had pulled.

He looked up and wow, could you get lost in those big brown eyes. They were beautiful and well worth having to tilt your neck up so the two of you could make eye contact.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your reading of,” you looked down to see the title, “The Multiverse: Theories of Multiple Universes,” you paused “Huh. Not what I was expecting but anyways, I need to borrow your height.”

“Borrow…my height?” He repeated slowly, closing his book.

“Yes. Your height,” it then occurred to you how odd that sounded without any context, “As you can see by how far you have to look down to make eye contact with me, I’m…short. And naturally, because the universe loves to remind me of it, the book I need is on the fourth shelf. Which I saw that you were able to reach with ease.”

He let out a chuckle. You couldn't blame him. It probably never occurred to his tall, lanky self that some folks had to put in great effort to reach for things. And being his tall, stupidly handsome and lanky self, he found the concept amusing.

“So you need me to get something you can’t reach?” He asked, a sly smile appearing on his face.

“You don’t need to remind me of my literal shortcomings,” you said with a cheeky grin, “but yes. I need your height. Please.”

“Where’s the book?” You smiled. You made a notion for him to follow you and turned around, heading back to the spot that was taunting you and your height.

“You know, for someone so short you walk pretty fast,” he said, having to increase his speed in order to catch up with you.

“I like to get to where I’m going,” you paused, “I’m also the shortest one in my family. So for every step they took, I had to take two to keep up.”

“Makes sense.”

“So am I the first person who’s asked to borrow your long limbs or is this a regular occurrence for you?” You asked, wanting the small talk to continue.

“You’re not the first,” he ran a hand through his hair and wow did it look soft, “Though it’s usually senior citizens at the grocery store and not someone as-“

“Young?”

“I was going to say ‘cute’, but yes, young. I mean you don’t look like, super, super young, you look like you’re my age which you know, I can’t say the same for those senior citizens at the grocery store.”

He was rambling and you could easily put an end to it. But you didn’t want to. First off, it was fucking adorable and also your brain was too wrapped up by the fact he just called you cute.

You stopped in your tracks as the two of you had finally arrived.

“There it is,” you pointed to the book you needed.

He flashed a dazzling smile before walking up to shelves. Hardly putting any effort into it, he extended his arm up and grabbed the prized book. He held it up so it was at his eye level, reading the cover.

"Huh," He paused, "Wasn't expecting that."

You couldn't blame him. You would be surprised too if someone as tiny as you asked for a book and said book had the illustration of a chair covered in blood on it.

"It's for my book club," you explained.

"Wasn't expecting that either."

"Look, I'm trying to diversify the type of books we're reading," He still didn't look convinced, "I can't do another romance novel. Or 'thriller' where the twist is obvious as soon as chapter three."

"Well, when you say that, horror does make more sense," He held out the book for you. Your fingers brushed against his briefly as you grabbed the book.

"I feel like you're making judgements about my taste in books by their appearance. Which is ironic, considering we're in a bookstore....and you know, you're reading a book about theories on multiple universes."

He opened his mouth to speak. You were expecting something sarcastic or snarky. Which was why you were quite surprised with what he actually said.

"You're right. Can I make it up to you by getting you another book?"

You were surprised you hadn't melted into the floor by now.

"That would be amazing." Sure, your original intention when you entered this bookstore was to buy one book. But who actually did that?

You led him to the cookbook section, explaining how no, it wasn't some celebrity cookbook, it was one of your favorite bakers from The Great British Bakeoff and sure, you weren't much of a baker now but maybe with this book you could become one.

You were so wrapped up in your explanation you almost didn't see that the grin on his face had gotten bigger and how those doe eyes of his were shining at you. Almost.

He leaned over, bending his knees a bit so that the two of you were at eye-level. He handed you the book and your fingers brushed again.

This time, it seemed like he lingered, not wanting to lose contact with you. At least that's what you thought.

It was also entirely possible all those romance novels your book club had you read were rotting your brain.

"Is there anything you need to borrow from me?" He asked. This was your chance. You were going to shoot your shot and it would either make a great story or you'd go home and eat some ice cream.

"Actually, yes, there is." He raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard.

"I need to borrow your number," You said, trying to keep your face looking as serious as possible.

You could see his neck turning red and that crimson was slowly but surely creeping up to his face, "My number?" He ran a hand through that soft, fluffy hair must be a nervous habit.

"Yeah, I need to borrow your number so we can plan dinner."

"D-d-dinner?" You tried your best to suppress a smile, but damn was he cute when he was flustered.

"I don't know how the senior citizens do it, but it's only polite that I thank you for helping me today. And I would love to thank you by taking you out to dinner," You shifted your feet, wishing he would just give you an answer already.

Instead, he began to ramble, "...you really don't have to do that, I mean that's really nice, but I was just being a decent person, I don't think that deserves going out to dinner with you. Not that that's bad-"

"What if I told you I also want to get dinner with you because I want to keep talking to you? And get to know you better?" You'd think a guy this pretty would be good at picking up on cues and flirting. He had charm-it was there-but it was clear as day that he was rusty at this.

"You...you...want to get to know...me?"

"Yeah. Like what you do for living, why you're reading about multiple universes, how you get your hair to look so good," it was the last bit that got a laugh out of him.

"You don't even know my name," He said. He looked much more relaxed now-which was a good look on him. Though it was hard to believe he had a bad look.

"We can fix that. My name is y/n," You extended a hand out.

"Peter," He grabbed your hand, shaking it. Peter. What a lovely name.

"It's nice to meet you Peter," You paused, "Can I borrow your number now?"

He laughed again, letting go of your hand so he could reach into his back pocket to pull out his phone. You pulled out yours, handing it to him so you two could enter the needed information to become a new contact.

Being short had some great benefits. And today, that benefit came in the form of Peter Parker.