#((this is about his inbox but enjoy Peter seeming like he's calling someone out))

[totally-not-peter-parker]

For people who claim to be uninterested y'all seem very invested in adult bouncy castle time with others during wildly inappropriate moments

[sunflowerharrington]

The Dating Plan (Part Two.)

read part one here <3

-> Summary: The smutty part. Minors DNI! And the fake relationship doesn’t seem so fake anymore 👀

-> Notes: @quickiesgirl is still an icon, as always. Enjoy babes! Also the first time I wrote part 2 it didn’t save at ALL so… whoops? i guess

-> Word Count: 3212

-> Warnings: Minors DNFI, smut, 18+, viewer discretion is advised, p in v, not that graphic cause they’re still like 18 and 19 in this respectively, praise kink, peter is not a good dom lol (bottom bitch tingz💅), not a warning but a condom is used because like i’m not writing a baby fic yet

-> Taglist: @quickiesgirl, @xxlangdon, @langdon-cumslut, @sympathyforher, @wzrlds, @taecube, dm comment or inbox to be added to my taglist!

"Peter? Peter! Peter Maximoff! Where are you going?!"

Outside of the venue, you called out to him, waiting by the road on his own, making sure to keep your voice down so as to not attract attention.

"Home," he said, not looking at you.

"I thought you were coming to m—"

"I'm not feeling well, sorry." Peter replied, kicking at the stones beneath his feet.

"I don't get it. You were just fine an hour ago. What happened?" You walked down towards him, crossing your arms over your chest. "I know you might not think the world of me, but I can at least listen."

"That's where you're wrong."

"Excuse me? If you knew how many times I had to listen to Jean blab on about Scott…”

“Not that. I'm sure you're a great listener... but you're wrong. I do think the world of you. I really do, Y/N.”

The silence was disarming, but Peter had said it. Not in the exact words, but close enough. He couldn't let it hang here.

“When we started this whole thing, I thought it'd just be for a joke. That I'd have all these mad horror stories about Y/N Y/L/N to tell my friends and maybe get a few free lunches off of it. But it didn't happen... well, apart from the free lunches. Those were the shit. But they weren't with this unattainable, emotionally unavailable asshole like I thought it would be. You're funny... charming... you're beautiful, obviously. You drive me absolutely crazy with some of the stuff you do but that's what makes hanging out with you even more fun. I loved seeing how our worlds would collide. But this... this is supposed to be the end of it. And if I take your guardian’s offer, or even if I just try to be friends after... it's not gonna be fun anymore. Because it's going to be knowing that I'll never have the chance to be with you, for real.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. Peter looked down. His hands were shaking. “That’s why I think we should say goodby—“

He couldn't get another word in edgewise before your lips collided with his, your lip gloss tasting sweet as your lips met in a passionate, long overdue embrace. Peter felt his heartbeat accelerate and his entire body tingled with sensations as he realized what was happening, before you released yourself delicately, looking deeply into his big brown eyes.

"I... I don't want to say goodbye, Pete."

"But I... but you..."

"I know. There's not exactly a good way to show someone you convinced to fake date you how you actually feel, but... it hasn't been just you. You're unlike any other boy I've ever been with. You're unpredictable, funny and out there... but that's what I love about you. I'm always banging on about structure and order, when really? The variety you've added to my life has made it so much more exciting and fast paced." She squinted as she saw his eyes mischievously light up. "And no, that's not a speed joke."

"Damn it!" Peter laughed.

"But... know that... no, it's not just you. So, if you'd really just like to go home after all this, I don't blame you. I'll give you all the space you need, but... I'm not washing my hands of you. I don't want to."

"So, you're breaking the agreement?"

You sighed, a smile on your face as you shook your head. "I'm breaking the agreement."

“I think this calls for a celebration!”

You chuckled. “And what exactly would that be?”

“Let me show you,” he said, this time his voice was more raspy, lower than usual, and it made your stomach somersault.

In a split second, Peter pulled you in by the chin and met you in a searing kiss. A blush all over his face, and you gladly reciprocated it, a warmth exchanged between you both in finally being beyond the terms of your agreement. And in another second, you were sitting in his lap on his bed down in his mom’s basement slash his bedroom, ball gown hiked up to your hips, lips still attached to his. Peter knew his speed would come in handy, and would also come in handy for locking the door so you would be away from prying eyes and ears. Cough, Wanda and his mom, cough.

His hands never left your hips, holding you closely to him, and once you pulled your lips away from his you looked back into his half lidded eyes; he looked so peaceful and sleepy, so you kissed him in the centre of his forehead and then both of his temples, his nose, his cheeks, his chin… But not his lips.

“Mmph, Y/N. Kiss me!”

“I did,” you chuckle.

“On the lips you dummy!”

“Nope.” You watched as he pouted, his eyes widening and rounding, looking up at you like a lost little puppy.

“Pleeease? I’ve gone so long waiting to kiss you!”

“But how am I meant to do anything in this huge ball gown? I left all my clothes at home. Would Wanda have anything?”

“Oh, uh… yeah… sure! Let me just go and ask my mom,” he said. “Since Wanda’s still at prom.”

He came back with a grey hoodie that had a tiny line of writing reading ‘bee-lieve in yourself and anything is possible’ with a small stitching of a cute bee beneath it, and a pair of shorts. Peter handed them to you and offered to help you out of your dress, which you accepted.

“Thank you so much, I can barely breathe!” You laugh, and he gets to work unzipping the back.

“I’ll stop when you tell me to, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything… I’ll just unzip your dress and then I’ll go and get changed too, in a different room, obviously.”

You stepped out of your dress as Peter unlocked the basement door and left the room to go change in the bathroom, leaving you alone in his room. You fought the sudden urge to snoop around his room, and quickly changed into the bee hoodie and black shorts. But you wanted to keep your heels on because you knew damn well that if you took them off now your feet would ache for days, and you didn’t want the pain to start right then.

When you were finished dressing, you sat back down on Peter’s bed, waiting for him to come back down into his room. He audibly gasped as he walked back into the room with a plate of cookies, almost dropping them to the ground upon seeing you.

The dress that had been covering your legs had now been ridden of, and we’re now exposed before him, and there was a look on his face that you had never seen before. You subconsciously began fiddling with the sleeve of the hoodie you borrowed as he set the cookies down on his dresser and he walked towards you.

You’d thrown your hair into a messy bun, and that added to the fact that you were wearing baggy clothes sent his mind into overdrive. His clothes were against your skin, and he could barely comprehend that.

“You could’ve asked me nicely and I’d strip for you, baby,” you said in a joking manner, but nothing in Peter’s expression read as being amused as he bit his lip.

“Really, peaches?” He asked, sitting down right next to you, your bare leg brushing against his. “And would you fuck me if I said please?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the air shifting around them. Peter got closer, leaning towards her and sliding one hand down the side of your body, brushing his thumb ever so slightly against your warm thigh. You could feel the familiar warmth climbing your skin as your heart pounded like crazy and you swallowed dry, feeling Peter’s breath against your neck as he planted kiss after kiss on it.

“You look so fucking beautiful wearing my things," he said, leaving a trail of kisses up your neck and jawline. "That hoodie looks so good on you. You can keep it if you want. Take all my clothes, they’ll all look better on you anyways."

“I thought it was Wan—”

And when he finally locked your lips with his, it was like the whole world had just disappeared and the room started to spin in slow motion. There were no teachers, no students, no ‘she did’ ‘he did’s, and no parents in that world that could make your world spin so fast yet so slow at the same time. Not when his tongue tasted heavily against yours, not when your nails scratched the back of Peter’s neck making him shiver with delight, not when his slow hand ran down your arm, all the way down to rest on your inner thigh, mere inches away from where you needed him most.

“You do not know how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you, babe,” he muttered, his voice raspy as he continued to kiss up and down your neck, stopping at the pulse point to suck your skin into his mouth.

You squeezed your thighs together, trapping his right hand between your legs, arching your back, leaning your head back to give him more access to your neck. He mumbled something into your skin, moving to take your heels off, slowly, too slowly for your liking. Was this payback for when you didn’t kiss him? Maybe. Maybe not.

As you grabbed his t-shirt in your balled fists you began slowly lifting it up over his torso, arms and head. Piece by piece, each piece of clothing ended up strewn all around his bedroom, he would sort out the mess later but for now his attention is solely on you.

He flipped your positions so you were now sitting on the bed instead of his lap, and never did his lips leave yours. Peter trailed his kisses down your neck to your now exposed collarbone and you took his cock in your hand and began stroking him slowly through the fabric of his boxers.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, babe?” You asked, whispering softly into his ear, your breath hitching in your throat as did his. Already his breath was ragged, the temperature in the room heating up with every rapid rise and fall of your chests.

You could feel him nodding, and so that gave you permission to stroke him harder, listening to the soft moans eliciting from his throat, slicing through the quietness in the room like a knife. Peter climbed on top of you stopping your movements for a moment, kissing your lips once, finally, holding the spot on your thighs just below your ass to lift you at an angle.

“Peter, please I can’t take this anymore,” you whine, the sexual tension between the two of you becoming too much for either of you to handle.

A thought flickered in his mind and he gently lowering your back down onto his bed, the sheets brushing against your bare skin as he hooked his slender fingers into the band of your panties, slipping them down your legs, pressing soft kisses over your exposed skin with so much care as if you were a doll made from porcelain or ceramic.

You were everything his wet dreams had prepared him for; so warm and inviting, and yet your body felt cold to the touch.

He leapt off the bed and dashed out of the room before coming back a second later with a silver wrapper in his clenched fist. Some might think condoms are a mood killer, but so are babies, so Peter made sure he was always careful when having girls over.

“How long, Peaches? How long have you been waiting for this?” He says, voice low and dangerous, and if his voice got any more soft you thought you would pass out, or simply pass away at peace and utter bliss.

His breath is hot on your neck as you work on pulling down his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace, ridding them and throwing them… somewhere across the room. You didn’t know where, and that’s not what you were worried about for the moment.

You did the honours of rolling the rubber up his length, taking your sweet, precious time, chuckling as he groaned in frustration.

Peter lined himself up with your entrance, kissing you on the lips as he stroked himself firmly through the rubber, waiting for the right moment to slide himself between your legs, and when he did you couldn’t help but whimper his name under your breath. He rested his forehead against yours as you gradually took him all the way in. Every inch, every rapid pulse, every vein, every pump of blood worked to stretch your walls.

“So tight for me, peaches,” he moaned, voice breathy, and you swore to yourself that you never heard a sound so beautiful in your life before this moment. He hovered above you for some time as you adjusted to his size.

“Please, baby,” you pant, giving him permission to start moving, but he didn't. “Peter…”

“I uh… I don’t like how we’re doing this, Y/N,” he began, his voice shaking as he asked, “Can you be on top?”

His heart pounds in his chest, he hated the fact that he was a bottom, but that would all change tonight. He lay down beside you and you took this as your sign to straddle his hips, pushing yourself back down onto him.

You held onto the headrest and slowly began lifting your hips up and down, taking his cock almost out and then back in again while watching his eyes roll into the back of his skull from the pleasure.

The image beneath you was breathtaking; his silver locs splayed out over his pillow, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your movements, his hands taking a loose grip on your waist, and his soft whimpers. “Fuck,” he moaned, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. “That’s it, just like that peaches.”

Tiny bolts of electricity began shooting through your body as you rode him faster, picking up your pace as he writhed under you, becoming a whiny moaning mess beneath you. His cock brushed along your sweet spot, causing the breath to hitch in your chest.

Peter’s hips bucked up against yours, stretching your walls that little bit more, making you cry out his name. You leaned forward, almost against his chest, to move the sweaty hair from his forehead, and then he thrusted up into you again.

“Holy fuck- do that again!”

He sat up in the bed, wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close to himself as he could, as he thrusted up into you. You weaved your fingers into his soft hair, tugging lightly, but hard enough to cause a moan to escape from his parted lips.

Peter wanted to make himself last, so he tried distracting himself by driving his cock into you quickly, faster, his grunts matching his rhythm as he erratically slammed his hips up into yours. He kept an arm around your waist and wrapped his fingers of his free hand around the back of your neck, holding you still as he fucked you from below.

You buried your face in his neck as he picked up his pace, and with your face buried in his neck he could hear every angelic sound that escaped your throat.

“Oh my god… Please, I’m right there! I’m—”

Your pussy spasmed around his cock, milking him as he slowed down his thrusts as he came with you, his whimpers quieting and dying in your hair as you both came down from your high. Panting, you both slowly caught your breath back, chests heaving, caressing each other’s skin, Peter’s thumb brushing your cheek.

“I… I think I’m in love with you,” you whispered, your cheek still pressed against his warm, slightly clammy shoulder. You couldn’t believe you just admitted that in front of him, but you’d already said it and it could never be taken back. “I— I love you, Peter Maximoff.”

“And I love you, Y/N Y/L/N,” he found your hand and held it tight for a moment, before extracting from the embrace (though he didn’t want to, he never wanted to let you go), getting up from the bed. His insides were intensely screaming and cheering for him, over the moon that you said that, thanking the heavens that you felt the same way.

His eyes glazed over as he went to grab a towel to clean up before his mom would come down and see what had happened—Peter was pretty sure she heard what happened so it wouldn’t make any difference if his bed was a mess or not. He wiped beneath his eyes, his back to you so you couldn’t see what was happening, and sniffed his tears back in. Or so he thought.

As he walked back into the room with the towel in his hand all he could see was you, sitting on the edge of his bed with his bee hoodie and shorts back on. Your heart felt heavy as you watched his movements as he cleaned up, insisting he did it since it was his bed, sniffling a little.

“Are you okay, babe?” You asked, and he nodded wordlessly answering your question, but not a second later the tears started again and you ran to throw your arms around his waist.

“I just… Why me? You’re an amazing, beautiful woman and I’m… well… me. And don’t girls like guys who do it on top?”

“Peter, look at me,” you encouraged, standing on your tiptoes to be as level to his height as you could.

“You,” you started, pressing your index finger against the centre of his chest twice, “are perfect to me. All of your small insecurities are valid but I don’t see them! I wouldn’t have this relationship any other way, and I don’t wanna be with anyone else. Stop doubting yourself!”

The smile on your face was contagious, infectious, making Peter grin back at you brighter than ever before. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, holding his waist tighter as you felt your knees weaken a little, playing with the hem of his shirt to distract yourself, though you wouldn’t need that distraction moments later.

Lost in each other’s gazes you smiled at each other, taking in this precious moment and sealing it inside your hearts forever. Peter wrapped his arms around you, sniffling from his recent tears, one lone tear falling down his cheek. You raised your hand up to his face and gently caught the tear on your thumb, wiping away any insecurity he had with it. And though that tear was alone, Peter was not, and neither were you.

The world around the two of you faded away as Peter’s lips caught yours into another sweet kiss, your love for one another blooming all around like daffodils in springtime along with your relationship, which blossomed into something truly beautiful.

[loonylupinblack]

Alone

hey besties! i thought after years of reading of fics, i’d finally have my go at writing one! please let me know your honest thoughts in either the comments or in my inbox! there will be other parts to this fic! hope you enjoy <3

For as long as Remus Lupin could remember he had always been alone. Never had much family, never any friends at school. He had his mother, of course, and occasionally his father- when Lyall wasn’t working overtime at the ministry. And though Remus adored his parents, he couldn’t help but feel alienated from them. Between Hope’s deteriorating health, and Lyall’s increasingly frequent absences at the dinner table, Remus never felt as if there was someone he could talk to. Then surely enough, there was the other thing. The big, ferocious, and furry thing that visited him once a month. The protagonist of Remus’ every nightmare, the elephant in every room, and the source of all his problems: the wolf. The wolf’s latest prey was Remus’ ability to attend Hogwarts. Lyall believed that Remus would be a threat to the security of the school, and as his father, it was his responsibility to prevent that. However, Lyall found that Dumbledore was a very difficult person to deny. After much persuasion by Hogwarts’ Headmaster, Remus was finally freed from the shackles of desolation. Remus was overjoyed at the concept of finally being with people his age that he could-

“Remus.” Spoke Lyall breaking his son’s train of thought. “I wanted to speak with you about something”.

Speaking with him? Remus was baffled, his father never wanted to speak with him unless it was about…oh…the wolf.

“My boy, I know you are very pleased with the permission of attending Hogwarts, and believe me though I still have my reservations on the matter, I am happy for you…but I just don’t want you to get your hopes up, son. People tend to have a negative attitude towards creatures like you and…”

“LYALL!” Shouted Hope breaking into a coughing fit.

“Well what would you like me to do about it, Hope?! Change it? I can’t! You must stop shielding the boy, he is eleven years old, he should know the facts! And the fact of the matter is that…”

Remus had stopped listening. He couldn’t. His brain was too fixated on his dad’s phrasing. Creature. A creature he had called Remus. The werewolf was deflated: he had been naive enough to believe that his recluse would reach an end and that someone may truly love him. Not love him out of obligation or guilt, but by choice. The idea of Hogwarts began to seem like a 7-year sentence of solitary confinement. After that, he had come to terms with his imminent aloneness, and everything seemed bleak and hopeless to Remus.

That was until he boarded a particular train compartment that changed his life forever.

The tawny-haired boy guided his lanky frame through the corridors of the train seeking an empty compartment, something that was unattainable when you had barely reached the train on time.

As he was looking, a bespectacled boy with messy black hair, and a grin that could only be described as full of vivacity approached him, “Hiya mate! Are you looking for somewhere to sit…because we’ve got room?” Seated behind the boy in the train compartment, was a blonde-haired boy with a chocolate frog in his mouth, and a raven-haired boy with perfectly pressed robes, and a genuine smile, that could give the first boy a run for his money. “Um…sure. Thanks.” Remus answered nervously. “My name is James Potter, and this Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black” he said pointing to each of the boys in turn. “My name is Remus, Remus Lupin.”

The train ride was filled with a joy Remus had never known before, James, he had learned: had an impeccable capability to make those around him feel welcome. Peter’s generosity knew no bounds, when he caught Remus eyeing the chocolate frogs he had procured from the sweets cart, Peter showed no hesitation in offering Remus a go at the supply. And of course, then there was Sirius. Sirius was an enigma to Remus, each thing about him seemed to juxtapose the next. The mischievous glint in his eyes and his aristocratic pronunciation while reciting a joke, or the way he cared way too much and not at all at the same time.

However, once the train had reached the station, the dreary cloud that had loomed over Remus his entire life had once again returned. Remus had to force himself to reconcile with the reality that boys like them would want nothing to do with a “creature” like him, save for a brief acquaintanceship due to circumstance. With his father’s words still ringing in his head, Remus solemnly rose from his seat and began to retrieve his trunk.

“Merlin! We’ve bloody scared the poor bloke!” James exclaimed.

“Or worse, our dear friend Remus here is secretly a swot, and is running TOWARDS the school! Oh, the horror!” Sighed Sirius dramatically falling on top of Peter.

“Oi geroff!” Peter shoves Sirius off his lap effectively sending both the boy on the floor and James into hysterics. “Take pity on me, Remus please, don’t run off and leave me with these two!” This only fortified Sirius and James’ bouts of laughter.

The boys’ antics filled Remus with a multitude of emotions, but for once, he was able to repress his anxieties and just enjoy the combined chaos of their company. For someone whose entire life had felt like darkness, it was a privilege to be able to bask in the light that radiated off the three boys. Remus knew that their friendship would have an expiration date, he only had until the boys figured out what he was, but he decided that if this was his only window for companionship he’d savor every second. “Don’t worry Peter,” Remus smiled “I won’t disappear just yet.”

[neko-rogers]

hey!! I’m not sure if your inbox is still open but I thought I’d send this just in case! what would you think abt a dark!peter who’s obsessed w s/o and offers to have her stay with him during like the stay-at-home pet of covid so she’s not alone then when it’s lifted he’s like lol you’re not leaving. sorry that’s kinda long and super specific. i absolutely love your writing though!!💗

Jamie All Over

words: 2,040 (no, i should be sorry bc this was chaotic)

tags: didn’t expect it to be this LONG, manipulative!peter parker, grooming, overprotectiveness, slight mentions of sex, don’t expect too much lmao its a headcanon

a/n: hi babe! i wasn’t entirely sure if you wanted this as a one shot (but if u do let me know!)

so you’re pretty unaware of every move peter is trying to do with you, you know? you were not really sure if it was a kind gesture, as the gentleman he seemed to be, or was it just a special treatment

ever since second year and until now as both of you were on your fourth year, he was consistent with his efforts

these moves were moments like when he would carry your books to your next class or confidently invite you to a study ‘date’ at the library after – often times he tells that his friends were invited, but would never show up later on

sometimes he would bring you lunch. you tried to turn it down kindly, but he insists that it was purposely packed as an extra for when he stays late around the university.

it was a lie though. anyone could tell by the way it was prepared looking very appetizing and tasted just as amazing at it was presented. 

and as peter had mentioned that he lived alone, you also assumed he was the one to make his meals. you were so sure he doesn’t pack for an extra and intentionally wants to impress you with his skills.

“hey, y/n!,” he calls, “look this eggroll has a cute design!”

he honestly was an epitome of a walking sunshine. his smile seemed so pure and you never felt any ill-intent for every gesture he had done for you

his friends seemed very welcoming the moment he introduced you to his group

you got along with ned who seemed to be just as joyful and funny as peter. meanwhile mj was a bit more of a tough cookie, nevertheless you both eventually got a long better than you expected

however, it came to one point wherein your own group of friends started being disheartened with your lack of communication

“you’ve been spending more time with that parker boy, huh?” “yeah, kinda?” “are you two like... dating?” “oh no! no... no... nooo!”

the moment they frowned at you was then that you realized and felt a little more guilty. you always remembered that friends were supposed to be friends despite the lack of time and effort, right?

somehow you tried to compensate for the lack of time with your friends. but every minute you spend felt more awkward than before

they weren’t sharing the same vibe with you and you were starting to question if it had been always like it – were you only adjusting to them?

you reached out for peter, considering that he became one of the closest and trusted people around the university. plus, he seemed to have genuinely great friends

“do you feel happy when you’re spending time with them?”

“well i used to but recently–”

“then you should stop being friends with them.”

you were upset for a second. the way he instantly told you that cutting ties with them would be the (only) option

he sounded serious on the other end of the line and you were just speechless for a moment. the dead air between lines was evident, but you didn’t know what to say

“sorry,” peter makes up, “i didn’t mean to sound too serious. i just don’t like people who are rude, especially to you.”

“oh, it’s fine. i totally get it.” you felt a batch of butterflies around your stomach. someone actually cared for you!!!

the moment you didn’t hesitate on losing your friendship with your past friends and moved on with joining peter’s group, things felt lighter.

somehow you felt more expressive than you realized. they were open to your ideas and thoughts, just as you were with them. you felt super comfortable and realized that you weren’t holding back on anything anymore

that’s why you had expected your winter break to be better than your past ones

everyone agreed to skate around the ice rink in rockefeller for christmas. along with it, also spending new year’s eve at the time square

news flash: you finally had the cliche new year’s eve kiss, with none other than peter parker!!! hooray!!!

for anyone who had common sense, your feelings for peter had accentuated. you weren’t denying it either, and the boy wasn’t oblivious to it too

he was just so irresistible and kind to you, like, all the time – to surreal, honestly

you felt and KNEW you were spoiled with peter (and his friends, who liked to spend time with you outside too, just not as much as him)

just as you were planning your spring break activities, it had to be postponed for another time

a lockdown had to be implemented around the country as it was under the state of a pandemic

mj and ned told the group that they’ll be with their families since lectures had to be concluded for the mean time

you planned to do the same, but you expected that this situation wouldn’t last long. so you chose to stay in your dorm rather than return to your hometown

completely sucks since you not only don’t get to hang out with your friends, but you weren’t able to see anyone in person...

until you got a text from peter

he was literally inviting you over his apartment since he explained that he wasn’t returning home either

you practically rushed to pack a small amount of clothes for a sleepover whilst not forgetting to wear a mask (bc it’s fucking important ok)

you arrived at his address and a big warm hug ensues 

his unit was so tidy and you were convinced he did it to impress you

peter was so happy to see you, acknowledging that you’re also spending a few nights with him

the nights mostly consisted of eating snacks and binge watching movies

however during one of those nights, both of you got a bonus – making out on his couch and further, completely forgetting the television

making out with peter wasn’t awkward at all. most of the time he was the one in control, which you didn’t mind

his hands treated you so gently but the way he teased you made you crave for more than what he was offering

a lot of whining, swearing, and begging – you weren’t aware but he was enjoying it a lot

on his side, he did praise you from time to time, but most of it consisted of raw tension and actions. the room was full of grunts and short breaths 

just want to include how sexy peter would be while he moans all over you. like his whole sunshine personality just drained away the moment he places his hands on either sides of your waist

the next day you felt like a princess even though you know it shouldn’t be???

apparently peter prepared breakfast for you and you felt embarrassed walking around his place only in the shirt you wore yesterday and underwear

just when you thought the extra lunch he packs for you was already amazing, the breakfast he prepared whilst being fresh and hot was just incredible

“you really like it?”

“of course! you really have to teach me to cook sometimes”

peter laughs and jokes, “yeah, don’t worry. i feel like we’ve got a lot of time ahead.”

ok fast forward to a few more days when you were beginning to feel like a freeloader. he lets you borrow a few of his clothes as yours were in the laundry

by the time you wanted to stop by your place, peter started to be more... clingy

at first he didn’t want you to go but after a few more debates, he felt defeated and instead insisted on going with you

eventually you caved and let him. it wasn’t that bad either, he talked to you about a lot of things on the way leaving you entertained the whole walk without realizing how far it had been

he helped you ‘pack’ more stuff so you wouldn’t be going back and forth from his place and yours. you felt like you were going out of town for a month with the amount of clothes and products

both of you returned to his place around late afternoon. you felt pretty tired and didn’t hesitate to pass out on the living room couch

when you woke up you sensed that you were in peter’s bedroom, meaning he carried and tucked you during the night

plus! an arm was wrapped around your midriff and you could feel peter’s breathing against your side

you closed your eyes and appreciated the moment. it was cute and made butterflies flutter around your stomach, and you tried not to move much to not wake him up

anyways apparently the pandemic lasted longer, and more serious, than expected (fuck the government and their incompetency) 

you spent more time with peter and was thankful that you didn’t spend this quarantine alone

within a blink of an eye, a month and a half already had passed. you couldn’t deny that most, or all, days have been unproductive

eat, cook, watch tv, cuddle, fuck, repeatedly get spoiled??? yeah sounds like the dream

weird though because you haven’t completely brought up to peter if you’re actually in a relationship with him. oh no were you just friends with (a lot) of benefits??

but you also felt like it wasn’t the time to bring it up. neither of you were saying anything so it was best to let it be for the fear that things might go downhill from there

anyways this continued for more weeks, especially since the ‘stay-at-home’ policy was deemed necessary

you started to help him do errands around the apartment just to feel like you weren’t an actual freeloader – but it wasn’t a surprise when he kept insisting that you should relax

more cute moments

more sexy times

and more cuddles during night (peter’s grip became tighter every night, but you shrugged it off assuming that it was just you getting homesick and overthinking)

ok but when you brought up being homesick and mentioned that you planned peter wasn’t entirely happy about it

the way he acted wasn’t just clingy. he insisted that he’d be the one to go and that you were staying

“ok but i’m not a dog, peter?” “i know, honey, but it’s too dangerous outside. i wouldn’t want you to be at risk.” “i wear a mask?? i follow health protocols?? i’ll be fine??” “you don’t understand–”

oh god he was becoming controlling

you tried not to argue anymore, rather ignoring and pushing past him to proceed to the door

and peter instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist and prevented you from walking further

there was a lot of struggling, but you didn’t know he was this strong. literally what the hell.

you tried to scream too but he pretty much threatened you to your core

“let’s talk this out,” he grunts as he secures his grip around you

“the hell? let me go!”

things got more complicated. he did convince you to talk with him (by means of tying your arms and legs to incapacitate you from running and righting)

it was a nightmare. he was really soft and sweet with you, even getting teary eyed after stating, “i only want what’s best for you... for us”

however you could sense the manipulativeness through it despite being making everything else look convincing

“trust me, sweetie, i wouldn’t want to hurt you. it would crush me” “please don’t cry. i’m only protecting you” “people are disgusting, they don’t deserve an angel like you” “don’t worry, i can protect you”

it terrified you to your nerves, sending shivers across your spine

at first you didn’t realize it, but eventually after days of being trapped, you figured he had been grooming you the whole time

he tried to make you dependent of him and somehow he did a fine job. just not enough to completely exploit you

though, it made you question what would have been better in your situation: being conscious of his sly nature with the hope of escaping or being unaware and completely wrapped around his finger whereas letting him continue how greatly he had been caring for you?

[captaincravatthecapricious]

You Don’t Understand- Prompt Fill

Jon has a rough time after being absent for 6 months.

Write as a prompt fill gotten through A03

CW fainting, victim blaming, withdrawal/starvation symptoms (from statements) (I am a bit vague about which it is more like because I couldn't choose, so a bit of both), trust issues, very brief Peter Lukas mention, brief mention of someone being touched while unconscious (nonsexual and very brief mention), and cw for some very mixed feelings about Georgie.  I understand her, and I don't hate her, but I don't really like her either so please don't get mad at me for how she is written I am trying to do her justice and I get why she does the things she does, but I don't have to like her for it.

Thanks for reading hope you enjoy! I have a few more bingo prompts to post, but only one more to write!  Feel free to stick it in my inbox and if no one does, well you will just have to put up with whatever whim strikes me this weekend when I will write it for a backlog!  Card by the wonderful @celosiaa​

It’s been six months.  How has it been six months?  

Jon isn’t sure how he is supposed to think about that time.  Is it all supposed to feel like a dream, that one moment he’s blowing up, the next he’s awake?  

It doesn’t feel like that.  

But he also wasn’t really there for six months, was he?   

He sighs deeply to himself.  It doesn’t matter.  

It doesn’t matter.  

He’s alive.  

He’s fine.  

Martin and Tim are sharing a flat, apparently.  And that’s good.  He thinks?  Maybe?  

They keep telling him there is room for him, but he isn’t sure he can believe that…. Not after everything with Tim.  He wants to believe it…  But… what if Martin doesn’t want him there.  He thought maybe they had a moment before the Unknowing, but did they?  

Jon’s not good with…. Feelings.  With people.  

Not to mention he’s been Gone.  With a capital G and a flatline of a heartrate.  

Even if he and Martin could possibly have…  Could possibly have had something.  Of some unknowable sort.  That he couldn’t have hoped to put a word to for fear that it would crumble around him.  But he’s been gone and Tim hasn’t been and they seem close now.  

And maybe Tim is trying again with him?  But how can he be sure?  When everything is confusing and out of sync with what he thought of time.  

Not to mention the deep hunger that is more than hunger.  Deeper in his gut, and harder to ignore.  Followed by a fog of confusion and the sense that his skin is too tight, that the world is the wrong temperature, and that everything is tilted ever so slightly, making it impossible to keep his balance.  

Reading statements helps, but… Basira… but Georgie.  The disappointed glares they send his way when he skulks off to read one in hopes of feeling like his limbs are his again…. That he isn’t being slowly set on fire or slowly frozen.  The world skirting by him with a vengeful glee leaving him to rot in his own misery on the shelf in the stacks he’s been calling home recently.  

Martin wasn’t there when he woke up…. Working for the ever elusive Peter Lukas.  Tim wasn’t there… Martin later telling him he’d been afraid of scaring him.  Which Jon couldn’t escape the worry that, in actuality, it was Martin worrying that Tim would scare Jon… or hurt him.  Which Jon could tell was the more valid of the worries.  Or he thinks it is?  How is he supposed to be certain.  How can he trust anyone?  How is he supposed to trust anyone when Basira gives him such calculating stares, when Melanie glares metaphorical and literal daggers at him, when Georgie has been ignoring his texts (and her harsh words upon his waking).  When Martin is working for a literal monster.  When Daisy is gone… and Jon doesn’t know how to feel.  He wants Basira to be happy, but he feels safer without her.  And he doesn’t know how to feel about anything but he is sick and hungry and cold and hollow.  

There is no one.  

Georgie doesn’t understand.   

He runs into her once, picking Melanie up for therapy.  After…. An unwise abrupt and shady surgery.  

He is in the breakroom.  Baffled that Martin is still making him tea when he hardly sees him around.  Even more baffled when Tim makes him another cup.  

What does it all mean?  

(Not to mention his confusion at the green hair… that had been a shock.

When he texted Martin about it, he said to ask Tim, and included an emoji that Jon couldn’t parse out.  Weren’t emojis supposed to be easier to read than actual faces?  It was maybe resigned?  Or maybe regretful?

Regretful of what?  Is he ashamed of something?  Is he regretful that he opened a text from Jon, that Jon turned down the request to move in?  It isn’t that Jon wanted to turn it down.  

But it sounds too good to be true?  When everyone avoids him at work… Well Tim doesn’t, but Jon is scared of being alone with Tim.  He is scared of this kindness and how long it might last.)

So he’s in the breakroom.  

Trying to steady himself the less monstrous and terrifying way.  

And Georgie is there.  

Jon shrinks back on himself.  Still hoping the mug of tea will make his hands steadier, make him less cold, less shaky, less miserable.  But he’s having difficulty holding it with one shaky hand, white knuckling his cane with the other.  Trying not to let it tremble as much as the rest of him, propping himself up when black spots start eating at his vision.  Not in the POTS sort of way… but in the same way that has been since America.  Since that first hint of fear that maybe… maybe he’s not human, that he is reliant on some horrifying eldritch god of knowledge.  

This is the price of him waking up.  

And it chews him up from the inside when, in his panic, he tries to limit his consumption hoping that it will turn him back.  Hoping that he still has a chance to win back the people he cares about, but fighting the fear that this is the only way to save them all.  

He doesn’t know what to do.  Being undead doesn’t come with a manual.  

And there is no chance that Georgie will take this any better than she did when she kept telling him to quit… to just stop.  

He’s trying!  

It’s been a few days since his last statement, and the world swims before his eyes whenever he stands.  Worse than it ever has.  He’s woken up on the floor more times in the few weeks he’s been alive again than in the long and confusing months leading up to his diagnosis.  

Which was after Georgie… which… means she hasn’t seen him like this.  Not when he was living with her because he has been managing, or so he thought, but hell maybe the Eye had a hand in that.  

And oh Shit, she is looking at him now.  

What does he do if she wants to talk?  She hasn’t responded to any of his texts, or late night calls when he’s been too afraid to call anyone else and she always felt safe.  Even when they were fighting.  But she hasn’t been there for him.  No one has, of late.  Except the people who are trying and Jon is too confused to know what to do so he does nothing and an all-consuming guilt joins in with that Hunger.  That sickness eating him from the inside with every word he doesn’t consume.  

“Hi Jon.”  

He can’t say anything.  He’s been standing too long, but seeing her there, he is frozen.  Fight or Flight breaking down to freeze.  Has he always been such a coward?  

Yes.  

Yes he has.  A miserable coward since he was a child.  Getting into trouble trying to try to prove to himself that he isn’t.  

Christ he’s dizzy.  But she’s still talking.  

“Jon, you really oughtn’t be here.  You don’t look well.  Shouldn’t you still be resting?  That long in hospital should have you in need of some physical therapy.  Are you pushing yourself too hard?”

Jon bites down on the urge to snap at her.  Or start crying.  Or simply pass out and not have to deal with this conversation at all.  “I need to be here,” he says quietly.  Afraid that expelling too much air will knock him over.  

“And why is that?  Really Jon, I swear…  Melanie says you haven’t been eating , or sleeping, but she sees  you here at all hours.  Why?  What is this all for?  It’s just a job, I don’t care if there are Monsters or whatever.  You see this?  This is why I can’t deal with you right now!  Not to mention what you did to Melanie.  What the hell, Jon?  You say you’re trying to save the world, but maybe you can’t?  Maybe you need to save yourself before you can do anything else.”

Jon just wants to get away before he goes down, and by this point he knows that is inevitable.  Maybe get to his office, and open a statement first.  Maybe that will help, or maybe it will make him feel better once he comes around.  He should put down his tea.  He doesn’t want the mug to break if he can’t make it.  He’ll set it on the table on the way out, or wait until he’s in  the bullpen and put it down and take a seat and hope that helps.  He tries to edge around her, staring at the floor.  Careful not to say anything that could compel.  Just wanting to get out.  “Have work to do… sorry.”  

“No you don’t!  Look at yourself, Jon!  Work can wait!”  

Jon just wants to leave.  He wishes it could!  He does.  He wants nothing more than to take a vacation.  To move in with Martin and Tim and have a life.  A home.  Safety.  Normalcy.  And Argument over who finished the milk and who has to do the shopping and not about how best to not die at the hands of Fear Gods, and how best to not serve them.  “Please, Georgie you don’t understand…”  

He backs away.  Fuck he’s dizzy.  

“No, Jon I don’t.  Explain.  What am I missing.  Why do you have to do this?  Why do you insist on working yourself into your grave?  It’s already basically killed you.  Maybe some of us don’t want to see you do that again?”

“I… I…  I need a Statement….”  Well so much for getting away.  He’s not even going to make it to a chair or the floor on his own.  “Hold this, I’m… I think I’m going to faint now.”  He holds his cane out to her.  

She takes it confused.  

Jon doesn’t remember hitting the floor.  

When he comes around, his head is pounding.  

Georgie is touching him.  He is on his side, and he is being yelled at.  He can’t make out the words yet… all just in a haze of pain and confusion and feeling like utter shit.  He tries to bat her hands away but he can’t and so he just lays there.  Hoping some feeling comes back to his limbs soon.  Or that Georgie will just get bored and leave him there.  

But then Martin is there.  And Tim.  

And Martin is shooing Georgie out of his personal space.  “He doesn’t like being touched while he’s out.”  

Well…  correct.  

“What the hell just happened?”  Georgie.  

“Well… it happens sometimes.  Did he say anything?”  Martin again.  

“Something about needing Statement?”

“Tim, could you grab him a Statement?”  

“Sure thing, back in a mo.”  Tim.  More earnest than Jon has heard him in a long time.  Tim helping him?  If he wasn’t already on the floor, he might have fainted again at that.  

“What, you’re just going to go along with it?  Let him work himself to death?  Look at him!  He isn’t well!  …I don’t know why I am arguing this.  He’s an adult and if he is going to do that, I don’t need to be a part of this.  It isn’t my job to baby sit him.”  Georgie shoves his cane at Martin, who doesn’t freeze.  In fact, as far as Jon can tell through half lidded eyes, Martin looks angry.  

“Look.  I know we don’t know each other well.  But do you really think so poorly of Jon… of me?  I don’t know what he’s told you… but he needs those Statements to live.  I don’t know if it’s ….a food… or… or an addiction.  But … he doesn’t do well without them.  And… And Elias was feeding them to him when he wasn’t here.  And Jon told me how you didn’t want them in the flat, but he got sick in America.  Really really sick, and … and Elias found him there and fed him another one.  He didn’t know until then.  But… you have to know we can’t quit.  And we aren’t sure if Jon can live without these.  And it is a far from ideal situation… but we are working on it.  You don’t have to like it.  Or talk to Jon, although you should.  You aren’t enabling him, he needs a support system.  And he’s just too thick to see that Tim and I are here from him, and everyone else is giving him the cold shoulder… so I don’t blame him for being too thick to notice!  Not to mention, my new position has made interacting with him during work hours… difficult, but I can’t blame him for not wanting to move in yet, although I hope he will.  And you!  The only person not in this mess who he trusts, ignores him.  Blames him!  Maybe you should try listening?  I get it… you can’t deal with him right now.  Fine.  I get it.  Do what you have to.  You don’t have to look after him at your own expense.  But don’t be cruel.  …Oh good.  Tim, thanks.  When he comes around, a Statement and some tea will set him right.”  Martin smiles at Tim (a smile that makes Jon jealous) and gives Georgie a cool look.  

“Marto, I think he’s been awake for most of that.”  Tim is crouched by him.  

“Haven’t been eavesdropping, promise.  Just… just getting my bearings.  I’m fine.  I’ll be up soon.”  Jon’s voice is rough.  Misery, unshed tears, exhaustion.  Take your pick.  

“It’s okay, buddy.  We’ll get you fixed up and then you can have a proper rest.  Offer of the flat share is still open, okay?”  Tim hovers, ready to help him sit when he’s ready.  

Jon… doesn’t know what to say.  After hearing Martin defend him… Maybe… Maybe he can start working on trusting Tim again.  Tim… is, after all, working on trusting him too.  

Georgie looks down at him.  He can’t read her expression.  She looks at him for a long moment.  

The gaze isn’t uncomfortable by itself.  But Jon feels exposed on the floor.  Small and helpless and weak as well as supernaturally hungry, that not at all helped by his “surprise nap.”  

He tries to avoid meeting her eyes.  

“I’m… sorry I didn’t listen.  I… still can’t do this with you right now.  But… I’m sorry.  I can’t be your friend now, but… let me know if you want some pictures of the Admiral ever, okay?”  And she leaves.  Off to bring Melanie to her appointment.  

Leaving Jon with Martin and Tim.   

Who bring him to his sad excuse for a bed, tuck him in with a statement and a cup of tea and tell him to call if he needs anything.  And Jon thinks, maybe he will reconsider their offer.  

[champagne-bucky]

Debt to Be Paid: I

Summary: Earth fears intergalactic war with another planet. The Avengers are called to work out negotiations on Zevitar, the planet of peace. What happens when they are reunited with their long lost team member?

Warnings: dark!Bucky x reader, mentions of non/dub-con, age gap (reader is of age) 

Notes: SHE’S HEREEEEEEE!!! Welcome to the first chapter of DTBP, the sequel to IOU!! If you’re new to this story make sure you check out IOU before you read this!! To all those who have read IOU... buckle up... Anyways enjoy!! Let me know what ya think! Please make sure to like, comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more! Enjoy :) 

Throughout his lifetime Steve Rogers was exposed to many types of pain. Whether it was physical, mental, or emotional, Steve could handle just about anything life could throw at him. That was until he lost you. In all his years of fighting alongside the Avengers, having been responsible for the demise of half the world’s population, and the tons of toxic chemicals pumped into his body could never prepare him for the pain of losing a child. While there is no biological relation, Steve couldn’t help but mourn for the loss of his daughter.

When Sam and Tony had come to the island to end his vacation they were trying to keep quiet about the situation that occurred back home. It wasn’t until three hours into the flight back home that Tony finally cracked and told Steve what was up. Steve was in shock, his daughter fought and nearly killed his best friend? Impossible.

Needless to say, Steve Rogers was an emotional wreck once he got back to the compound. He saw the state of Bucky’s room, he saw where they kept you locked up, he saw the damage that had been done to Stephen and Wanda when you escaped. He saw parts of you that he never knew you held. How dark had you become since he left, he wondered on those late sleepless nights.

Steve didn’t speak for days. Instead, he spent them walking around the taped off ruins of his beloved compound. What was once a home for him and his family felt more like a cold, steel, jail cell. He was truly in hell without you.

The nights were filled with him lying awake in bed, eyes opened wide and darting to every corner of the room, praying that you would somehow walk out of the shadows and back to him. Instead of taking sleeping pills that Tony suggested to him, he would get up out of bed and start researching, questioning, and theorizing where it is that you could be.

After a few weeks and two overworked coffee machines later, Steve had created three possible theories about what could have happened to you:

Being an Avenger came with a handful of enemies.  

Almost everyone on the team had their own enemies. From empty threats to stalker incidences, no one on the team was really safe. Any form of social media was constantly monitored, every time they were in a car there was security two cars behind, the second an Avenger leaves the tower they have surveillance on them 99.9% of the time.

Still, that .1% haunts Steve. He knows that people have their ways when it comes to the innovation of technology. Perhaps there was someone out there that was too good with computers. They hacked you, stalked you, and threatened you not to tell anyone. Maybe it got so out of hand to the point where you ran away for the protection of yourself and for the others. Maybe you attacked Bucky to keep the secret hidden or you got so scared that attacking him was an accident.

    2.   Everyone has their demons… maybe you had kept yours hidden too well.

As days grew longer, so did Steve’s suspicions. He never thought bad things about you. In fact, Steve knew there wasn’t a bad bone in your body. So why did he keep thinking you were secretly an evil person?

He theorized that there could’ve been another side to who you were. The nice and sweet you was all an act and you were waiting for an opportunity to show your true self. Between him not being around anymore and you now having full access to technology and weapons only Avengers have access to, you took advantage of your new found status and got carried away. Bucky found out and tried to put a stop to you and that’s how he ended up getting attacked. You broke out before you could face any consequences.

Steve shook his head at this theory. He knew you like he knew the layout of his old 40’s apartment. You’re not a bad person and never once have you said you hated someone. You never said you even hated Bucky, just upset that he didn’t seem to like you as much as the others did.

  3.  Being apart from Steve sent you towards a downwards spiral… basically it was all Steve’s fault that you’re gone.

This theory made a whole lot of sense, and none of it at the same time. Yes, everyone could confirm that you really missed Steve. You missed training with him and hanging out with him. You missed his presence around the compound as well. Something about Steve just made your days way better than when he wasn’t at the compound at all.

What didn’t make sense to anybody was why would you attack someone over this? Sure, you missed Steve, but nobody thought you missed him so much to the point of nearly killing someone. Bucky did give you a hard time, but as far as the Avengers knew it was just some name calling you didn’t appreciate.

Everyone recounted their last few days with you at the compound. You seemed okay, nothing out of the usual for you. However, Peter did speak up saying you seemed a bit jumpier and a little bit down and out than usual. Again, it chalked up to you missing Steve really bad. Then there was the matter of Stephen and Wanda.

They were your last victims before you escaped. The pair had gone through extensive questioning. However, they both had the same story. Wanda and Strange had tried to calm you down, but things got out of hand and you ended up lashing out at them.

Steve hit a brick wall at this point. How could no one know what happened to you? He tried hacking into security cameras from that day, but he was met with a disappointing glare from Tony and a handful of security to escort him out of the room meant for their investigation.

What was there even to investigate? You were gone and as far as anybody knew, there was no trace of you in New York, the United States, and pretty much any other country that agents were sent out to look for you. Steve guessed they only continued because Bucky needed to get some sort of justice or closure, but he swears that he was attacked for no reason. Everyone knew about their slight tension, but thought it wouldn’t go as far as leaving Bucky hospitalized.

Bucky kept quiet after Steve came back. Truth be told, he feared what his friend might do to him if the truth got out. He made sure to delete any evidence he could off his computer of you. When he visited you those last days, he managed to fuck up something in the control room that cut off the audio of him talking. No one had called him in to question his meeting with you, and Bucky was relieved because he needed more time to come up with the perfect excuse.

Now all he had to do was get rid of Wanda and Stephen, or get them off his back. He knows that they must know something. Tensions around the compound have been high around the three of them. The pair had been cold towards him after the attack, only going so far as signing a ‘Get Well Soon’ card and pitching in a few dollars for a thing of flowers, but that was all.

Wanda and Strange wasted no time after their questioning was over. They got right to work trying to compile all the evidence they could to expose Bucky. Unfortunately, it was proving to be more difficult than expected.

Bucky’s room had been blocked off by agents. He had to change rooms until the investigation was cleared. Everything in the room remained untouched, but no Avengers, besides Tony, had access to the room.

Strange and Wanda even went in from another angle and enlisted Peter to help find that security footage, but so far everything was blocked off to them. It seemed like there was one dead end after another. If the pair weren’t fast in their findings, they might never get justice for you. Even if you were long gone, Bucky shouldn’t get away with what he did.

No matter what, the pair of Avengers new they needed to finish the job you attempted to start… and Stephen Strange and Wanda Maximoff will be damned if justice wasn’t served.

~Meanwhile~

You emptied your stomach of breakfast later in the day. Same as yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that… something’s got to be up?

Maybe it was nerves? That could explain a lot seeing as the nightmares weren’t letting up anytime soon.

Seeing images of Bucky Barnes every time you close your eyes led to a lot of sleepless nights. It led to much more than sleepless nights, but you tried your best to listen to Carol’s advice and put the past behind you. Sadly, it would take a lot more than blocking that vile man from your thoughts.

Carol saw how you were feeling sick everyday. She also tried to put the worst out of her head, but curiosity piqued. It was important for her to tell you, but it was also important that you found out now before you were back on your home planet alone and scared.

When she first suggested that you may be pregnant, you laughed in her face, then you cried, then were angry, then depressed. There was no possible way, right? You remembered to take your birth control every night, right?

Okay, now you were freaking out. There was one night you might’ve forgot to take it, and that time spent in your jail cell, and maybe one or twice while on a mission.

Now you were panicking.

You forgot some days to take birth control, you were off it for a couple of days too. Bucky was relentless. The possibilities were leading towards confirmation. Every sign of pregnancy pointed to yes.

You tried to deny it for a week, but as you looked at the remnants of today’s breakfast being flushed down the toilet again you collected yourself and came towards acceptance. Coming out of the bathroom, Carol was right there with a quirked brow. She was about to say something, but you opened your mouth first.

“FUCK!”

[weepingvoidpenguin]

The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warning: Like 1 F-Bomb, angst, reader being reckless

Word Count: 4.3K

Author’s Note: I’m literally so sorry this took so long to come out but I lost motivation to write and randomly got it back and now I know where I want to take this story so I’m dedicating some time to this series again. ALSO I wanted to thank EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart who has asked to be tagged or complimented my writing it means SO MUCH and helps me continue to write. Everyone who has requested to be tagged will be; I’m just dumb and didn’t know I could privately respond to asks and I didn’t want to spam my page with answers so... yeah I know, I’m dumb lol ENJOY

(CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO FIND THE ORIGINAL GIF FOR MY STORY BECAUSE WTF I SPENT LITERALLY 30 MINUTES LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT ONE BUT COULDN’T FIND IT AND I USED THE SAME TAGS AS ALWAYS AND YES THE GIFS ARE STILL THERE SOMEONE HELP PLS AND THANK YOU) (AND ALSO LITERALLY CAN’T ADD A READ MORE LINE BECAUSE I COPY AND PASTE FROM WORD SO IM SORRY TUMBLR IS JUST TRYING ME TODAY)

  You let the thunderous knocks at your door rack for nearly five minutes before you trudged out of bed with your blanket still encased around you. You kept your eyes glued to your carpet, watching as your feet slid along the floor on your way to the door. Your hand hovered over the knob as hesitation ceased your actions. 

  What if it was Peter at your door? Your heart twisted at the thought and you couldn’t stop how your hand shot out and grasped the handle. Damn how your body could betray you. 

  You noticed how your actions slowly became less your own over the past few days. Naturally, you could sit, lay, stand, eat, drink and etc. on command but whenever the thought of the brunette boy shattered its way through the walls you’d created, your hands flew towards your phone every single time. You had desired Peter, desired for him to reach out to you and clear the air, answer the questions consuming your mind, just talk to you in any way. Maybe his words wouldn’t make you feel better but at least his voice would soothe the storm brewing in your stomach.

  You had skipped school the last two days, claiming to have a fever to your mother who, as a doctor, knew better. But she was an understanding woman and gave you the time she suspected you needed to deal with whatever was bothering you. She’d tried to get you to talk but each attempt was met with silence and isolation so she left you be, only occasionally leaving a warm drink on your nightstand.

  You hadn’t just isolated yourself from your mother though; you’d completely disregarded the messages you were getting from MJ and Ned. You tried to keep away from your phone, in all honesty. You wanted to disconnect, to just feel what you felt and ride the wave until the waters soothed themselves. But with the amount of times you’d checked your inbox for a new message from Peter or merely went back to read old texts that used to bring a smile to your face, you’d say disconnecting had failed miserably. In fact, every time you checked your phone only made the sinking feeling in your stomach liven with a fresh ache and you’d lay right back down.

  Your window remained locked now. For the most part. Some nights, for about an hour or so, you’d unlatch it, idiotically hoping that somehow Peter would be aware of your actions and know that you, in a moment of weakness, wanted to see him again. That your silent invitation had been noticed and he would come running to you. But, of course, it didn’t work like that.

  You were released from the deep constraints of your thoughts with another set of rapping on the door. You sighed and brought yourself to look through the peephole only to be met with an eye already glaring through it. You let out a quiet shriek at the expression strewn about MJ’s face and slowly unlocked the door.

  She didn’t wait for you to open it though, taking matters into her own hands and flinging the entryway open to storm through and slam shut behind her. You stood frozen, watching as she glowered with her arms crossed over her chest. You two stood in silence like that for a few moments and she continued to stare, waiting for you to give an explanation for your behavior for the past few days.

  She knew better than to think you were sick. Even when you were sick you always messaged her back but this mood was something she had yet to experience in all her years of friendship with you.

  “So?” She practically snarled and you gulped.

  You scanned her up and down. She was entirely on the defense here. Her arms crossed, foot tapping on the ground and the disapproving look of the century plastered on her face all scrambled together to serve you one very pissed off MJ.

  She waited for a response, not breaking her composure for even a fraction of a second. The anger radiating off her body was more than you could handle in the moment, especially when it was accompanied with the sorrow encasing your very being.

  Her expression softened in the slightest as she studied you, noting how you couldn’t meet her gaze, not that it had been a warm one to begin with but still. Your hair was in shambles and the deep, dark circles under your eyes conveyed more than you were willing to bring yourself to admit. And when you finally looked up at her she took your desperate embrace with ease; all of her anger diminishing as she held you.

  “Hey,” She soothed, running her hand up and down your back through the blanket, “what’s going on?”

  You looked up at her, only slightly pulling back from the hug, “There’s something I have to tell you,” ~   That first day that you had kicked Peter out of your apartment he didn’t go on patrol that night. He was too distraught. Instead, he trudged home with his head hung low and his thoughts drowning him in regret.

  He’d been weak that afternoon. He couldn’t help it. It’d been so long since you two had hung out together alone, aside from the rare occasion last week, and so much had happened within that time. 

  That first night, when the two of you kissed and the stars had come to life for the first time in his existence, everything in those few moments had been perfect; no, better than perfect. The world had burst to life under your touch and suddenly his years of yearning and longing for you had made sense. The world had been right and just for once. For one goddamn minute.

  And then, because of that moment that he hungered to relive again, he’d lost you. Maybe permanently. 

  How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just given in to the desire pining for your touch? He couldn’t have helped it. The way you looked, the smile gleaming on your face, the way you were straddling and hovering above him; it all called out to him. You called out to him. His eyes traced down from your eyes to your neck and then lower to the bit of exposed cleavage in his face. He blushed in the moment, feeling guilty for letting his mind wander to those treacherous places that caused his imagination to spiral. And, oh, how his thoughts spiraled. 

  That need to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to be with you had made him weak in the moment. But had it really been so wrong to give in? After all, you are his soulmate and if it were okay to touch anyone the way his body had urged him to, why not the person that he was meant for and was meant for him?

  No, it hadn’t wrong to give in because from the look that glazed your eyes and elicited your body when you connected, he knew you wanted to give in too. He knew you wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted to be with you. 

  And that’s why he wanted to go over that day. He had planned to tell you everything. He even had his suit in his backpack to show you but then it all went wrong. He’d prematurely exposed the truth but in a way that made it seem secretive. He hadn’t meant to be secretive; he was just scared.

  Plus, he finally had the girl he’d been working to get for the past few months and he had to just throw that all away. At that point, his feeling for Liz were real just miniscule compared to the ones he attempted to drown out for you. Not to mention, Liz liked Peter as he was without the hero complex but (Y/N) liked Spider-Man, a literal superhero. 

  Maybe that had been the reason that (Y/N) had kicked him out so quickly. Was she disappointed that her mysterious hero had turned out to be none other than Peter Parker? Was being Peter really that bad in her eyes? No, (Y/N) loved Peter . . . platonically. 

  But Liz . . . Liz liked Peter, not Spider-Man. (Y/N) didn’t want her shy best friend, she wanted her mysterious hero. (Y/N) didn’t like Peter for who he was, only who he presented himself to be. Her feelings were solely based on a hidden character under the red and blue suit. She didn’t want Peter Parker. She couldn’t want Peter Parker. Peter Parker wasn’t enough for her and he never would be.

  He shook his head at the thoughts, hating how his conclusion could tug at his chest so fiercely. Nonetheless, he let himself fester on that idea until it became his mentality.

  (Y/N) was not interested in Peter. ~   You could hardly communicate everything that had happened over the course of the last few weeks to MJ with all the tears and sobs interrupting the story. She caught onto the gist of it, though. Peter was Spider-Man, Spider-Man was her soulmate, Peter was with Liz, etc. 

  She let you cry until you fell asleep that night and she stayed with you the next day so she could force you to go to school, even if it was Friday. 

  Her alarm woke you up the next morning and you groaned as you shoved your pillow over your ear to drown out the sound. MJ rolled around, cutting the alarm off and cuddling closer to you before shoving you out of bed.

  “What the hell?” You asked, reaching out for the pillow that was pried from your hold. 

  MJ held the cushion just out of your reach and dangled it in the air, “Good morning!” She cheerily shouted, very unlike herself.

  You groaned in response and shoved the blanket over your head just for that to be ripped away as well. “Get up, you’re coming to school,”

  A huff escaped your lips as the sunlight shone even from behind closed eyelids. You wanted to argue and stay home but you would just get hell for it and end up going to school anyway so you used that time of argument to get ready instead. MJ had woken you up early enough to let you shower, as you hadn’t recently, and made breakfast while you got ready.

  In the stillness of your room, you observed your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were still puffy from the crying and there was a slight dry rash from wiping your nose so much but other than that, you looked practically normal. You ran your hands down your body, hating that you put in a little extra effort in your looks to catch Peter’s attention. In the midst of shamefully admiring yourself, you caught a glimpse of the pictures tacked onto the wall behind you. You whirled around and your gaze landed on the brightest of them all. A picture of the four of you sitting in the grass, MJ on one side of you and Peter on the other. You removed the tack from the photo and smiled down at it. The picture had been taken the first time you all hung out together, the same day you’d told MJ about your feelings for Peter only to be met with a knowing look from her. She could read you like a book that woman. 

  “Hey, breakfast is ready-” MJ burst through the door and cut herself off at the sight of you. “What’s that?”

  “Do you remember this photo?” You asked, holding it up for her to see.   Her eyes softened and she had a small smile, “I have this same picture in a drawer somewhere,”

  “Do you remember what I told you that day?”

  MJ looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for an explanation.

  “That’s the day I told you that I thought I liked Peter,” She looked down at the photo and handed it back to you, “It’s like . . . since the beginning it’s been him. It’s always been him.” You placed the photo back in its original place, “And now I know why,”

  Later that day in the cafeteria, the table had been full of tension. MJ throwing glares at Peter, Peter brushing them off his shoulder, your head crammed into a textbook, Ned trying to break the tension and Liz having no idea what the hell was going on. 

  “You guys are so cute together,” MJ cheerily spoke up after a while, looking at Peter and Liz’s interlocked fingers.

  “Thanks,” Peter stated bluntly, his gaze fixated on MJ.

  “I just didn’t think you would end up dating a guy like that, Liz, but now that I’m looking at it, it makes sense,”

  “A guy like what?” Liz raised an eyebrow, concerned there was something about Peter that she didn’t know.

  “A liar-”

  “MJ, can you help me with this equation?” You interjected, hoping she hadn’t heard what MJ said.

  “I don’t know why you’d need my help, you’re the best one here at math,” she slyly retorted, not once breaking her eye contact with Peter.

  “I’ll help you,” Ned spoke up and the both of you exchanged worried glances. It suddenly dawned on you that Ned probably already knows Peter’s secret; which means, he already knew about you as well.

  “Anyway,” Liz spoke up after a few tense moments of silence, “I’m throwing a party tonight at my place, everyone’s invited!” 

  “And why would we-”

  “Sounds fun! We’ll be there!” You spoke up quickly, glaring at MJ to shut her up. She rolled her eyes but sat back in her chair and complied.

  You’d kept your head down for most of the lunch period but had to snap your attention up to keep MJ tamed. Your gaze wandered over to the direction you felt a pull coming from and was surprised when you met Peter’s gaze. You were almost frozen, caught in a mixture of crying, panicking and keeping it together. Still, you couldn’t pry your attention from Peter so you dwelled in it instead. 

  He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were more apparent than usual and his hair appeared to lack a bit of life, the curls on his face falling flat rather than their normal bounciness. You let yourself study the man before you and that’s when it happened again.

  Instead of his normal physique, an outline of his person took form and the wounds on his body glowed to catch your attention. He had a few cuts and scrapes here and there, some bruises on his shins and forearms, not to mention the busted eyebrow that you’d failed to notice under what you assumed was makeup. You squinted your eyes at this and Peter seemed to catch on to what was happening. He grew uncomfortable under your gaze and forced yourself to retract it, fighting the urge to reach out your hand and place it over the split skin on his face. Not that he’d appreciate it.

  You sighed and closed the textbook before shoving it in your bag and standing up seconds before the bell rang. MJ followed suit and walked you to your next class, knowing you usually take the route with Peter and punched your shoulder lightly when it was time for her to go.

  “Meet at my locker after school? I need help picking an outfit and we can stop by your place to pick some stuff up,” 

  MJ nodded in agreement and you turned to enter the classroom but walked into a hastily walking Peter. You reached out your hand to steady yourself and grabbed his forearm which, unfortunately, was not covered in fabric.

  The warmth in your fingertips soon sprawled all over your body and you could moan at the ease it brought along with it. The ache in your heart subsided and the strength of the pull towards him tripled until you really were being shoved against him, your chest pressed against his own and his arms wrapped around you as if to keep you there.

  You wanted to pull away but the fact that Peter was even holding you right now soothed the agony in your bones and you needed this for just a few seconds more. You let the sensation overtake you, submitting yourself to its enticing comfort and when Peter’s hands gripped the back of your shirt tighter to pull you deeper into him, you let him.

  This was right. Being with him was right. How could it not be? How could being with your soulmate be wrong? The two of you were literally made for each other as were all soulmates but there resided something deeper between both of you that caused a very physical gravitational pull to one another. Though you’d heard of instances similar to that, you’d never heard of it being physical, only an emotional pull. And that physical pull somehow forced you two into each other’s arms where you were fighting the urge to give in.

  With the little strength that you could muster, you pried yourself from him and you exchanged a worried glance with each other, “Did you-”

  “Feel that? Yeah,” he said, bewildered at what just happened.

  “So, you didn’t-”

  “Pull you? No. And you didn’t-”

  “Suddenly forgive you and throw myself into your arms?” You spoke with venom and cocked your head to the side, the little distance between you allowing some of your anger to return. “No,”

  Peter wanted to roll his eyes and brush off the comment, he really did but he could see through you. The pain you tried to hide was laid barren for him, he couldn’t miss it if he tried. It shouted for his attention, demanding his explanation and wanting nothing more than to dissipate and leave you at peace. But he couldn’t grant you that. He couldn’t bring himself to beg for you when you didn’t even want him; at least, not the real him.

  You finally walked away and took your usual seat in class, forcing your gaze down so you wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with Peter as he took his place next you. You chuckled at that. ~   Liz’s house buzzed with energy, most of the people already arrived and under some kind of influence. You had to give it to her, she knew how to throw a party. Not that you’d been to very many of them considering MJ was your best friend.  

  MJ appeared beside you with two cups in her hand and offered you one, “Oh, I figured you were going to chug them down simultaneously,”

  “Don’t tempt me.” She laughed and you took a gulp from yours, finishing it off in a few seconds, “Maybe you would like to do that, though,”

  You smiled sheepishly, “I’m gonna get another one,”

  “Make sure you leave some for everybody else,” she hollered over the music.

  You giggled and sauntered over to the table, ignoring the beginnings of a lure coming from your left. You plucked one of the cups up and brought the brim to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat and rejoined MJ.

  “Hey, so I was thinking,” you started, keeping your focus anywhere other than where it wanted to be, “where did you hear that story about the gods and the stars and all that?”

  “Huh?” She shouted over the music and despite the volume of the noise, you could still filter out Peter’s voice through it all.

  You grabbed MJ’s arm and pulled her towards the door, “Outside!” You shouted and she followed.

  Once the fresh breeze hit your face, you took a deep breath in, attempting to clear out any negative emotions. MJ took your hand and led you away from the front of the house where quite a few people were still crowding around and settled on the rooftop. She grabbed a ladder off the floor and held the ladder while you climbed up.

  “What were you trying to say?” She asked once you two had gotten comfortable.

  “I was asking about where you heard the story about being chosen by the Gods,” you stated, taking a sip from the cup and already feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. This cup was definitely stronger than the previous one.

  She cocked her head a little and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

  “You know! About the Gods’ choosing a few special spirits to have this intense love or something,”

  “What are you talking about?” 

  “Like, about my Indicator and the stars and my soulmate,”

  Her eyebrow remained raised in your direction.

  Now it was your turn to get confused, “The story you told me when we were all at your house watching movies. The day I went on the first date with Brad,”

  “Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she admitted, a concerned look on her face.

  “Yes, you do! You’re the one that told me that story, how could you not remember it?” you practically yelled. “When I got mad because of Liz and Peter and went to your room, that’s when you told me!”

  “I remember you being bothered but I figured you needed a breather so I let you have it,”

  Was it MJ that had told you? You scoffed, yes, of course it was. Who else would it be? She was the one that walked into the room and comforted you.   “MJ, stop playing,” you scolded.

  “(Y/N) . . . are you feeling okay?” she asked and you glared at her in response. “Dude, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  You shot up from your spot and struggled to find footing so you raised your arms to balance yourself. You had drunk a little more than you thought but managed to steady yourself. MJ held out a hand to you in caution, raising them to catch you.

  “Something’s not right,” you said, taking a small step back from your friend. You were certain it was MJ in the room with you, the memory was clear as day.

  The reason you had even brought it up in the first place was because you wanted to know where she heard the lore from considering you’d never heard anything like it. You had been ashamed of your Indicator because you’d never come to know of any other person who had the same one as you ever. Not even in the history books. It was just completely unheard of. So, why would MJ know the legend? 

  “(Y/N), sit down.” MJ ordered, her words concrete.

  “No, no, no, no, this doesn’t make sense,” you spoke aloud, your mind trying to understand the events of that night. You took half a step back from MJ as if the added distance would deny her truth. And it was her truth. You could always tell when MJ was lying, years of friendship could attest to that but her words were genuine and her confusion was too.

  “Stop moving, (Y/N),” she growled, slowly coming closer to you.

  You created the same distance from you as before and she stopped her movements altogether, her eyes glued to the back of your foot. You tried to wrack your brain around it but no matter how you tried to understand it, it just didn’t make sense. How would MJ know the lore for your Indicator when you’d studied extensively to try and find something-anything to make you feel less alone in your path. How had she just randomly come across such information and why hadn’t you asked her right then and there where she heard it from? 

  “(Y/N)!” You heard your name shouted from behind you and whipped around, the force of the action causing you to tip over the edge of the roof and your heart stopped as you watched MJ jump out to catch you.

  The fall was quick but scarier than any rollercoaster you’d been on. It elicited the same sensations but held more finality to it. 

  “(Y/N)!” MJ screamed from above but you kept your eyes glued to the ground when a figure swung into your line of sight and clung onto you in midair before landing on a patch of grass on the side of the house. 

  The action had knocked the wind out of you and you struggled to regain your breath, your eyes glued to your feet and how they rested against the ground. MJ flew down the ladder and raced with Ned to get to your side. She hadn’t even reached it before she started yelling at you.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” She yelled, kneeling by your side and encasing your face in her hands, failing to draw your attention to her.

  Your body shook uncontrollably, the fear from before just now catching up to you. But it wasn’t the fear from nearly dying. It was from whoever the hell you spoke to in MJ’s house. 

  “Can’t you see she’s scared?” Peter yelled at MJ and you winced. You’d never heard Peter yell like that before.

  Peter picked you up and placed you in his lap, his hands attempted to center you in on him but you merely looked through him. You were out of it and you couldn’t bring yourself to come back to the present.

  “(Y/N),” Peter whispered, worry and fear laced in his tone, “Are you okay?”   It took a minute of letting the fear make its course through you before you zeroed in on Peter’s expression. It was the warmth coming from his hands that brought you back.

  “Who was she?”

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[wordsfromthesol]

Character Model

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: You may or may not have been following Jason Todd around a bookstore so you could model one of your story characters after him. He may or may not have noticed. Warnings: Language? Word Count: 2k A/N: Just a story from my drafts folder. Sorry I haven’t been able to write any of the wonderful requests I have sitting in my inbox...work has been running me ragged. But they are coming! Love you all 💛

You had no idea where this man came from, but he was perfect. Exactly what you envisioned the assassin prince in your newest story to look like, and he just waltzed into the bookstore. First, you tried to ignore him…after all it would be kind of creepy to stare at this man while sketching him and jotting down little details about the way he walks, talks, runs his fingers through his hair. The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t get him out of your mind. As you watched his mannerisms, he just became more perfect. Fuck it. You got up from your seat and moved closer to him, pretending to look at the books on the shelf. It wasn’t a very good cover story, as it was quite obvious you were drawing him. I will never see this man again, who cares.

You were never the best artist, but the image got the message across. Once it was complete, you continued following him awkwardly around the store jotting down notes. His interest in certain books, the way he seemed to survey the bookstore…Maybe he is an assassin prince? Those didn’t actually exist right? You ignored those thoughts as you commented on his gait. Wrapped up in your descriptions, you didn’t realize he was now watching you. That is until you looked up again and saw his steel blue eyes staring into yours.

“What are you profiling me for, doll?”

You spun around, hoping he wasn’t talking to you. No such luck. “Oh, uhm, I wasn’t?”

“Hmm, sure does look like it. Can I see that sketch?”

“Heh, you saw that?” He raised his eyebrows. Of course he saw it, Y/N, you are being creepy. “Okay, I swear I’m not stalking you! I just…gosh this is going to sound so stupid…you look exactly like how I envisioned this character in my head…for a story.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Some people would beg to differ, but I guess technically.”

“So what’s the character then?”

Okay now he’s going to be offended. “Uhm…an assassin? But he’s also like prince to the guild thing. It’s kind of complicated.”

“So I look like an assassin?”

“Kind of…?” To your surprise the man chuckled.

“Not gunna lie, I’ve been called so much worse.”

Why are you so awkward? “Well sorry for being creepy…” You turned to leave and didn’t notice the man following you until you nearly slammed the front door in his face.

“I think I deserve to see that sketch after you followed me around for an hour AND tried to knock me out with a door.”

“Oh my go – I’m so sorry, I figured I’d thoroughly…embarrassed myself, so I left…why are you following me?”

“Thought I’d return the favor?” You gave him a nervous smile, the thought of this very large strange man walking you home, at night, in Gotham, did not provide you with much peace. “Relax, you look just like a character I imagined…” He quipped, trying to ease your obvious discomfort.

“Not funny.”

“Really though, it’s dark and getting late and this is Gotham.” You eyed him suspiciously, this still probably wasn’t the smartest move on your part, but you relented and motioned for him to follow.

“Don’t make fun of it, I’m a writer not an artist. This is purely for research.” You commented as you passed him the sheet of notebook paper.

“It looks good, I especially like all the little notes about me. Ruggedly handsome? Piercing steel blue eyes?”

Shit. I forgot about those. “Uhm, yeah.” You tried to snatch the paper back, but he could easily keep it from you. “It was research!” Huffing, you remember some of the descriptions were not very complimentary. Watching his eyes scan the page, you tried to explain. “Some of them are just for the character, don’t take it…”

“No, they are all…pretty spot on I’d say.” His voice turned solemn, almost sad, as he passed the paper back to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” he waved it off, picking back up his nonchalant timbre.

The two of you mindless chatted about your favorite books until you arrived at your apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Thanks again…” You had just realized the two of you never exchanged names. “My name’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Jason. I’ll see you around. Try not to stalk anyone else.”

“No promises!” You called out as you entered the apartment.

**

It had been nearly a week, and honestly you didn’t expect to see the stranger again. After all, how would you? No numbers or last names were exchanged. Yet there he was, sitting across from you at the coffee shop, face buried in a book. This man is actually reading in a coffee shop. He looked so out of place compared to all the usual suspects. It would be creepy if I remembered him, right? I’m just going to ignore him. Your plan didn’t last long, as Jason soon came up and sat beside you.

“Stalking anyone new today?”

“Oh, I uhm…no. Writing about you actually…the character! The character not you.” God, you’re so smooth. You thought as you brought your hand up to cover your face.

“So how is assassin me doing today?”

“Honestly? You’re kind of being a bitch. Like how am I supposed to know how you will react if you are refusing to tell me?”

“Uhm…isn’t that the part you’re supposed to make up?”

“No, I made up you…the assassin…now you’re…they’re supposed to tell me what they want to do.”

“Uh huh. Right. You know they aren’t real right? Like I’m not actually a killer prince.”

“Heh, yeah I know. Wouldn’t that be cool though?”

“I just think you’d be assassinated.”

“Ohh, harsh. Though, sadly, I would just be murdered.”

“No, I had it right.” Jason gave you a smirk as he got up from the table and walked out the door.

Did that actually just happen? You quickly gathered your things and threw them into your computer bag, racing after him. “WAIT!” You noticed he had stopped just outside the door and well before you called after him.

“Walking home?”

“Uhm, yeah. Can I ask you some questions first?”

“How about you can ask me questions until we get to your apartment building?”

“Deal.”

It was a short ten-minute walk, but you picked his brain. Giving him situations to see how he would react. This was way easier than you rewriting the scene, or going back and forth for hours before giving up and not writing anything at all. In fact, his reactions were eerily similar to that of your murderous character. You weren’t accidentally copying his life, right?

**

The next time you saw him, you were out with friends at some random bar. He sat there stoically on the bar stool, staring into space. This was so…like if your character had just murdered someone. No, he couldn’t have. Probably just a bad day. You excused yourself from the group of friends and slide in to the stool besides Jason.

“So, Jason, bad day?”

“Oh, Y/N. I didn’t…you’re here.”

“Yeah, I try to have a life sometimes. Albeit very rarely.”

“Hm, well, don’t let me keep you.”

“That’s alright, they are content without me.” You pointed towards a group of people. “And plus, you look like you need some company.”

“…”

“Man, riveting stuff. So, what are you drinking?”

“Whiskey.”

“Just…straight? Alright, spill. Remember I know you.”

“I…just had a bad day at work. I’ll get over it.”

“I’m sure whatever happened wasn’t your fault. Some situations are inevitable.”

“I guess.”

“So what do you do, exactly?”

A sad, solemn smile laced his lips as he got up from the bar. “Another time. Get home safe, Y/N.”

“That wasn’t an answer…” you mumbled as you made your way back to your friends.

**

Just the next day, you were mindless going aisle by aisle in the grocery store, when you feel someone slightly bump into you. You whipped your head around to see the culprit, when what you saw was Jason with a big grin on his face.

“I’m starting to think you never stopped stalking me.”

“If anything, you’re stalking me. This is the closest grocery to my apartment…which you know the address of. I have no clue where you live.”

“Fair enough.” He looked down at the assorted items in your cart, “got a plan for those?”

“Honestly, my version of cooking is throwing some things in a pan and hoping for the best.”

“Hm, well, I could come over and show you some things?”

“Jason, I don’t know your middle or last name, are you offering to cook for me?”

“Peter Todd, and yes, Y/N  Y/M/N  Y/L/N, I am.”

You looked at him with surprise, “See, now who’s stalking who.”

He started to trail off with a smirk, “I’ll be at yours at 6!”

Did that seriously just happen? How did he know my name? Once you were done you raced home to clean. You were so not prepared for guests, with your scratch paper and sticky notes strewn about the apartment. As soon as the clock struck 6, you heard a knock at the door.

**

Jason tried to show you what he’s doing in the kitchen, but you couldn’t care less. You sat on the counter, pretending to listen to the instructions, while sipping on the wine in your hand.

“You’re not retaining any of this, are you?”

“Hmm, not really. But I’m quite enjoying watching you do it.” You motioned for him to continue preparing the meal.

“Are you just trying to get a free meal?”

“Well, technically I paid for the food, I’m just after the free chef…that was…I meant like after the preparation of the food…not after you…” Shut up Y/N, you are making it worse.

“That’s alright, I’m just after the free writer.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at you before returning to the stove.

“Does cooking always take this long? It’s nearly 7!” You were trying to quickly change the subject and forget the embarrassment you had just endured.

“Calm down, doll, it’s nearly ready. Grab some plates.” You hopped off the counter and took two plates down from the cabinet, placing them next to the stove before sitting at your kitchen island patiently waiting to be served food.

**

“Okay, this is amazing. MAYBE worth the hour wait.”

“Oh well MAYBE I’ll take it back then.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Though both of your plates had been empty for hours, and the mess in the kitchen was staring you in the face, neither of you could seem to move. You found anything and everything to talk about, well almost everything. For some reason he still wouldn’t tell you what he did for a living. Which annoyed you because whatever it was clearly took its toll.

“Okay, fine! Don’t tell me, some big ole secret. I’m beginning to think you actually are an assassin prince and your consciousness just went into mine…so now you’re a character in my book.”

“I guess I’ll just have to read it and let you know.”

You side-eyed him, “You can read it when I find out what you do?” You knew at this point there was no hope in getting an answer.

“Tempting. Perhaps you can tempt me further Wednesday night.” Jason rose from the stool and traipsed over to the door. You quickly followed him, mainly out of sheer confusion.

“What’s Wednesday night?”

“Well, I figure those leftovers will last about two days. Can’t leave you without your free chef.” At this point his face was inches from yours. “I’ll be here at 6.” He whispered as he quickly spun on his heel and left.

[princeescaluswords]

"urban fantasy grittiness" is spot on. I love urban fantasy, but like any genre it has isms and phobias in it. Teen Wolf had its problems but did other things right and was actually subversive in ways. So it's hilarious when stans will say they want it to be "more progressive" but they... remove the stuff that was actually different and prioritize/center cishet white men. Then they go "there! Now it's Good" when all they do is transplant the *worst* aspects of urban fantasy into it.

Urban fantasy is not my favorite genre, though I wish I enjoyed it more.  (If anyone has any suggestions for excellent works in the genre, please drop them in my inbox.)  I love the idea of integrating magic and the supernatural into modern life -- I love Teen Wolf after all -- but as you pointed out, any genre has its own problems.  

One of my problems with urban fantasy is that it often acknowledges the role of privilege in its characters' lives but it does so in a manner that lionizes it rather than questions it.   Vampires, witches, wizards, and werewolves are more powerful than humans, and for that they are hunted and despised.  Most often this takes the form of religious zealotry or torch-and-pitchfork mobs.  

And yet, in the end, the characters in which this is alienation is supposed to engender sympathy almost always seem to end up being rich, white, and good-looking.  In properties such as as True Blood, The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, The Dresden Files, Anita Blake, they talk about their alienation from the masses of humanity, but it doesn’t seem to bother them that much.  They dress well and live in beautiful mansions, they don’t struggle to survive, and they certainly don’t care about the details of their isolation.   In fact, a lot of the time, their status as outsider serves as an excuse to be just as terrible as the people they see as their oppressors.   

(It’s one of the things I loved about Coppola’s Dracula in 1992, Merhige’s Shadow of the Vampire in 2000, or Johnston’s The Wolfman in 2010.  As monstrous as the central characters were, they were also lonely and pathetic, living in crumbling cultural cul de sacs as the world beyond left them behind.)

It seems to me that all too often, urban fantasy most often serves to turn handsome, rich, white men (gifted with supernatural abilities) into the oppressed and disadvantaged, though their oppression tend to be episodic and their disadvantages tend to be talked about more than felt.  It took me a while to realize that this was a feature of the genre, and not a bug.

And it’s one of the reasons why Teen Wolf created such a dissonance in its fan base.  Derek and Peter were positioned to be the typic urban fantasy heroes.  Think about how many things Derek has in common with say, Harry Dresden.  Powerful and sardonic about it -- check!  Manipulative uncle -- check!  Defining tragedy -- check!  Self-focused existence (either by brooding in a burned-out family home or gritty 40s-era detective outlook) -- check!   So the fandom expected Derek’s arc to be similar to Harry’s.   He would get more and more powerful until fate itself justified his existence.  (Isn’t it hilarious how many times Harry Dresden is portrayed as a down-on-his-luck outcast yet ends up where he does, with powerful allies everywhere and an impressive title, but he never actually changes how he treats other people?)

And yet, that’s not what happened in Teen Wolf.  The protagonist was not the rich, outcast, lost, white prince who was forced by circumstance into being a broody asshole.  It wasn’t the snarky sarcastic white kid with the dark past he could never overcome who treated others as props  but found secret power that was destined to be his all along.  It was the Hispanic kid who actually had to hold down a job, whose mother worked extra shifts, who struggled in school, who was picked on by a rich white jock, and who responded by being kind to those who hurt him most of the time. (And who is forever cast into the outer dark for not being kind to those who hurt him all of the time).  This was the subversion of the urban fantasy genre.  “That means he didn't get his power because he was born with it. He didn't get it by stealing or killing someone. He earned it. You're not strong just because you can lift a lot of weight now. You're strong because you endure. Satomi calls it strength of character.”  The true protagonist didn’t end the show as the President of Werewolves.  He ended it by waking up in a shitty motel in order to save one other person.

And that’s why there’s an asshole anon in our inbox, and tens of thousands of fanfiction stories based on the premise that a white male millionaire, who never worked a job in a single episode of the show, who literally manipulated and beat up children to replace his lost family ‘deserves nice things.’  Because the show broke ranks with the urban fantasy staple that being supernatural meant that you were automatically a downtrodden minority who couldn’t be held responsible for their actions and focused on a character’s behavior as a measure of their arc’s progress.  What type of fantasy is that?

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Guilty, Part 2

Title: Guilty, Part 2 of 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rodgers!reader

Warnings: Bucky is a grumpy dad™️, Peter is an even sadder boy, and anxiety I guess??

Summary: Peter is worried the dangers of being Spiderman's girlfriend are too much for you.

Authors Note: Here's the second part to @lou-la-lou 's request. The italicized paragraphs are a flashbacks! If anyone has any other requests for me, feel free to send them in, and if you have them in my inbox already, know that I am working on them, I swear! 😂 I feel like its kinda rushed, ngl, but here we go! ENJOY!

--------------------

"Come on out Parker, I know you're up here," Bucky called out to the outwardly vacant rooftop. He swung his legs over the side of the Tower calmly and waited. 

"Uhm, I'm good. Thanks." he heard Peter squeak nervously from behind him. He chuckled a little at the evident panic in his voice, and patted the spot next to him. 

"It's okay kid, I'm not here to hurt you, I just wanna talk."

Moments passed, and Bucky could practically hear the gears of fear and curiosity winding inside the young spiderling's head as he contemplated things. Bucky sighed, his patience running thin. 

"Come on Peter, you know that if I wanted to harm you that I would've done it already." 

After a few more moments and a mutter of something that sounded a lot like 'that's comforting', Peter eventually sat on the ledge next to Bucky. 

Well, actually he was a good six feet away from being next to him, but Bucky would take what he could get. 

"So," he broke through the silence, eyes focused out towards the sky rather than the blue and red clad figure sitting beside him. "What are you doing here kid?"

"Oh I was just out on patrol and so ya know I was like in the-- in the neighborhood so I just thought I'd drop by," Peter cleared his throat, stuttering awkwardly through what was so clearly an excuse. Bucky chuckled. 

"Kind of a long way from Queens though," he drawled amusedly. "And I'm sure you 'stopping by' has nothing to do with the fact that you can very clearly see Y/N's bedroom window from here."

Peter's flush was instant. 

"Oh no-- that's not -- I wasn't--" he stuttered frantically, waving his hands wildly. Bucky let him go on for a while -- a sick sense of glee filling his chest as he watched his daughter's ex-boyfriend panic. Eventually he raised his hand, and Peter instantly fell silent. 

"C'mon kid, let's not start this out with a lie. Why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

"I just...wanted to check and see if she's okay," Peter murmured after another pregnant pause, voice so quiet he was barely audible. Bucky turned to face him more fully, and felt a little of his lingering anger dissolve at the look of utter sadness splayed across the young boy's features. 

"She's not." Bucky replied firmly. "But I think you would've already known that, seeing as you were the one to end things."

"Yeah I know," he muttered. Peter's hand flicked towards his face, gloved fingertips batting away a few of the tears he'd let escape. "But I didn't really have much of a choice."

"So I've heard," Bucky hummed. "I think I know why that is, but why don't you tell me why you think that is."

Peter paused, tear-filled eyes staring off into the distance as he contemplated his next words carefully. Bucky let him think, taking the time to study Peter's face more fully in the meantime. His eyes were puffy and red from his tears, but the dark purple circles under them made it clear that this wasn't the first time he'd cried recently. The skin of his face was paler than usual, and his cheeks looked a little gaunt. 

All in all, Peter looked miserable. 

If he were being honest with himself, Bucky would have to admit that the sight of his pain was a little satisfying -- after all, he was the reason Y/N had been so heartbroken lately. But it was the look in the young boy's eyes that kept him from feeling too smug. It was the same dull, lifeless look that he'd seen in his daughter's eyes for weeks. Bucky couldn't help but feel his heart reach out for the kid as he noted his evident suffering. 

"I thought she'd just be better off without me," Peter's soft reply broke him out of his thoughts abruptly. "I mean, you saw what happened with those girls. All because of me, because of Spiderman, and I just thought if I cut things off now then hopefully she could just...I dunno, move on? Find somebody new, someone normal, that way she'd always be…"

"Safe?" Bucky supplied quietly. Peter's eyes snapped to the older man's face, expression one of complete surprise. He nodded slowly before casting his eyes away once more. 

"Yeah," he managed to reply, voice cracking as his tears began flowing once more. Bucky sighed, scooting closer to him and placing a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder. Peter jumped a little at the contact, but he didn't move away like Bucky expected. They sat that way for a few minutes -- Peter sobbing quietly and Bucky sitting stoically next to him. 

"Did I ever tell you about the first time I held Y/N?" Bucky asked plainly. Peter sniffled, head turning upwards to face the older man in surprise. 

"N-no sir. I don't think we've ever actually talked before today," Peter replied slowly. 

"Yeah, that's probably true," Bucky chuckled. "But it's worth telling now." 

Peter nodded, eyes still trained on Bucky, a look of confusion overtaking his features. 

"Well obviously Steve was the first one to hold her -- he barely waited until they hosed her off before he snatched her up," he recalled fondly, chuckling a little at the memory. Peter too cracked a smile at the mental image, and Bucky scored himself an imaginary point for managing to keep the kid from crying for a minute. 

"But when I finally managed to pry her away from him long enough for me to hold her, the very first thing I felt was this overwhelming sense of love. But almost immediately that love led to this feeling of terror," he continued, the smile sliding from his face. "I mean, there she was -- just the tiniest little thing you'd ever seen, her entire body fit practically in my hand she was so small. I was overcome with complete panic when I realized just how fragile she was. I just stood there for a minute, picturing all of the terrible things that could happen to her, that sweet little alien-looking thing. How on earth was I supposed to keep her safe, when so much of mine and Steve's lives were filled with constant danger?"

Peter didn't move an inch, his entire being enthralled by Bucky's story. 

"I struggled with that a lot when Y/N was younger. Hell, I'd be lying if I said I didn't still struggle with it -- I think that's a big part of why I'm so protective of her now, as I'm sure you've noticed," Bucky smiled wryly. To his credit, even though Bucky could tell Peter was fighting the urge to scoff he merely nodded dumbly in response. “Yeah sorry about that I guess? I mean I’m not, but I feel like I should say that.”

Peter chuckled a little at the brutal honesty, the slightest hint of an amused smile quirking at the edges of his lips. Bucky gleefully scored himself another mental point before he continued. 

“I spent every second I could with her after we brought her home, just watching her sleep and making sure she was safe. They say parents don’t get any sleep with a newborn, but I legitimately didn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time for almost a month. Unless I knew Steve was awake, I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off her. Eventually I got so burnt out that I had a full blown panic attack and Steve finally forced me to take a break. He all but locked me in our room, and wouldn’t let me come out until I’d finally gotten some decent rest. It was hard, but I knew in my mind that he was right -- while I was stuck in there I wound up doing a lot of thinking. And do you know what I realized?”

Peter shook his head, brown eyes wide and locked onto Bucky’s face as he breathlessly waited for the answer. Bucky looked him directly in the eyes, pausing for a moment. He wanted to ensure that Peter heard and understood everything that he was about to say.  

“Even though bad things might happen to Y/N because of our lifestyles, she was better off with us than without,” Bucky stated firmly. Peter’s face scrunched in confusion for the briefest of moments but Bucky saw a flash of understanding pass through his eyes. The young boy glanced away, spurring Bucky to continue. “True, I couldn’t and can’t protect her from everything, but she was gonna grow up with the biggest, strangest, and most loving family a kid could hope for. Not to mention the fact that she was born into a family full of extremely capable superhumans and assassins that would literally kill for her. Sure she was going to inevitably run into problems from time to time, but as long as she had us to teach her and protect her then I truly felt she would be alright.”

Peter swallowed thickly and the two sat silently for a few minutes as they let the gravity of Bucky’s words sink in. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget just how young Peter really was, but he'd never looked more his age than in this moment. His eyes were cast downward and his tear soaked lashes were so long that they rested across his pink-splotched cheeks as he cried. Bucky patted his back comfortingly as he waited. After a few moments, Bucky internally wondered if he should continue, but Peter spoke up before he had a chance. 

“But don’t you ever-- I dunno, feel like guilty?”, Peter blurted out curiously. “I mean even just that little fight was enough to freak me out completely. I can’t...I don’t ever want her to get hurt because of me.”

“I get it kid, I used to feel the same way,” Bucky exhaled through his nose, a soft chuckle unintentionally bubbling out of his throat at the insinuation. “But believe me, I learned very early on that if Y/N wants to get into a fight, then she will. I think she takes too much after Steve, the two of them are so damned stubborn that they almost make me seem like the level-headed one.”

Peter laughed out loud for the first time all night, and Bucky would be willing to bet it was the first time in much longer than that. He chuckled along with him, slightly proud of the look of fondness that took over his boyish features. 

"Yeah. Yeah that's probably true." Peter chuckled. 

"Mmmmhm. So, you feeling any better kid?"

Peter nodded earnestly, fingers brushing away the last of his tears. 

"Good," Bucky hummed. "Now, I'm going to need you to fix things with my daughter, otherwise you and I are going to have a very different kind of conversation. Am I clear?"

"Y-yes sir," Peter replied meekly, an audible gulp escaping the poor boy. Bucky grinned widely, clapping his hand on his back once more. 

"Knew I could count on you."

--------------------

Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. 

Sitting on the couch, you were wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn't hardly tell where his limbs ended and yours began. You were curled up in his lap, his arms cadging your back firmly against his front as his face rested into the crook of your neck. There was some movie playing on the giant tv in front of the two of you, but Peter wasn't paying attention to it at all; he was too awestruck by his sheer luck, eternally grateful to be with you again after so long.

Even though he couldn't see your face from his position, he could tell that you were on the verge of falling asleep. Every few minutes your fingers would pause on their trek up and down his forearm and your head would roll even further backwards as you drifted asleep before snapping back upwards once more. He chuckled fondly at you, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek as a feeling of warmth spread throughout his entire body. 

"You're exhausted sweet girl," he murmured into your neck softly. "Go ahead and sleep, I can tell you're fighting it."

You shook your head stubbornly, adorably clinging to his arms even tighter at the insinuation. 

"M'not," you protested through a yawn. Little butterflies swirled in Peter's tummy at the sound of the pout evident in your voice. He placed another kiss to your cheek, unable to contain the feeling of joy that'd been coursing though him since he'd first gotten you back in his arms. 

"You are though," he chuckled. 

"I don't wanna sleep," you argued. "Too afraid this was all just a really good dream."

Peter's chest immediately felt heavy, arms winding around you more securely at your whispered confession. He understood exactly what you meant. To be perfectly honest, he was having a hard time believing this was real too. 

He knew it was probably just teenage dramatics, but the two weeks that he’d spent without you felt like the longest weeks of his life -- weeks spent in absolute misery. It’d seemed like the only solution at the time, but he’d had an increasingly difficult time justifying that choice when not being with you had been so difficult. He was honestly reaching his breaking point long before your dad had sat him down to talk about things, so it didn’t take much convincing on Bucky’s part to get him to change his mind. 

But now, as he found himself perched outside your bedroom window he couldn't help but worry that he might've done permanent damage to your relationship. He felt his heart shrivel and harden at the prospect that you may not forgive him, but he couldn't possibly blame you for it. Hell, he'd hated himself since the moment he ended things. 

He was only outside your window in the first place because as soon as you'd realized it was him, you'd swiftly slammed the door in his face. He'd tried pleading with you through the wood, but he couldn't tell if any of it was getting through because (outside of some choice swears) you hadn't said a word in response. So, desperate and on his last chance, he'd crawled outside your bedroom window, hoping that even if you didn't speak to him that at least he'd be able to see your face again. Ignoring the weight that settled in his stomach as he took note of your reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks through the glass, he'd focused on saying what he came there to say. You simply stood in the middle of your room stoically with your arms crossed as he rambled on through the pre-planned speech he’d come up with as he tossed and turned all night. 

Eventually he reached the end of his hastily prepared monologue, and he fell silent, waiting anxiously for you to respond. The seconds that passed felt like hours as you contemplated things, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest as he cautiously appraised your every move. A stab of fear and defeat ripped through his chest the moment he realized that you weren’t going to budge. Fresh tears welling in his eyes, he turned to leave, the feeling of defeat and sorrow weighing heavily on his limbs until he felt an actual weight on his arm.

You grabbed his wrist before he’d even moved an inch. 

Glaring at him as your own tears slipped silently down your cheeks, you dropped his arm before opening the window wide enough for him to fit through. He sniffled and shot you a desperate look, to which you responded only by rolling your eyes and motioning for him to come inside. Once he'd scrambled through, he could only muster up enough courage to stand wordlessly in the once familiar room as he waited for you to make the next move. 

"You're an idiot."

Though your words were biting, Peter couldn't help but think to himself that, after not hearing your voice for weeks, they were the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. 

"I know," he swallowed thickly. You scoffed, fingers swiping your cheeks angrily to remove the lingering traces of your tears as you stared him down. 

"What you did really sucked," you continued crossing your arms protectively in front of your chest. "And just because I get why you did it now doesn't change that." 

"I know," he agreed, tears silently beginning to fall from his eyes. You sucked in a shuddering breath. "You're absolutely right, I'm an idiot." 

You chuckled a little bit at his admission, your arms dropping by your sides. 

"I wish you would've just talked to me. Told me what you were feeling, you know?" you replied in a near-whisper. "Cause just getting cut-off from you all at once...it really sucked."

Your bottom lip began to tremble and fresh tears began to run down your face uncontrollably. Peter swore he could actually hear a crack echo in the small room as his heart broke at the sight of you. Unable to physically handle the distance between the two of you for a moment longer, he wasted little time in crossing the short space and pulling you into his arms. 

To his immense relief, you allowed him to pull you into his chest easily, your arms wrapping around his body just as tightly. He thrust his face into your messy hair, and your face buried itself into his chest instantly. It wasn't long before he felt your hot tears seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, but he really couldn't care less at the moment. Especially given the fact that he was sure you could feel his own tears soaking through your hair. 

"I-I'm so sorry Y/N," he sobbed, his voice muffled from the way he pressed his face to your head. "I'm s-so sorry angel, I'm such an idiot. I hated every single second I wasn't with y-you, and I swear I'll never do anything like that ever again." 

Your only response was to pull him impossibly closer to you, your arms practically clawing at his back in the process. 

The two of you had stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time, sobbing into each other in that dramatic way only teenagers really could, until eventually both your eyes had run dry. Then you just talked. First about the whole situation and then about everything the two of you had missed about the other in the time you weren't speaking. Peter had come to see you early in the morning, but by the time all was said and done it was already the early evening. Despite the fact that the two of you were exhausted, neither one of you were willing to part just yet and thus you'd wound up where you were now, cuddling in one of the Tower's many common rooms. 

Peter exhaled tensely, your quiet admission sending a stab of guilt deep into his chest. He kissed the top of your head apologetically. 

"I'm so sorry y/n," he murmured against your hair. "I can't explain how sorry I am that I've made you feel like you can't count on me anymore."

You were so silent that, for a moment, Peter thought you might've finally succumbed to your evident exhaustion. It wasn't until a few moments later that he felt you snuggle deeper into his hold and place a delicate kiss to his cheek that he realized you hadn't. He couldn't hold back the large grin that overtook his face nor the raging blush that began creeping up his cheeks at your sweet gesture. 

"S'okay Petey," you mumbled, clearly on the verge of dozing. "I mean, it's not, but you can just give me constant cuddles from now on and then we'll be good."

Peter let out a breathy giggle, feelings of amusement and affection surging through his chest at the determined, and yet sleepy tone of your voice. He felt your breaths even out, and he placed a light kiss to your hair as he listened to the slow, comforting thumping of your heartbeat. 

"Don't worry angel, already planning on it."

--------------------

"Buck, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Steve whispered, stopping dead in his tracks and pulling his husband to a stop through their interconnected hands. Bucky frowned a bit as his eyes scanned the room, wondering what could've possibly been behind the pure shock lacing Steve's tone. They were on their way out, intent on spending some time alone together for the first time in a long while, and Bucky knew something big must've caught his husband's attention if he was making the time to stop. 

"What?" he questioned confusedly after finding seemingly nothing amiss in the common room. Steve nudged him gently, wide eyes darting towards one of Stark's insanely expensive leather couches as if to say 'there, look over there dummy!'. Bucky felt his brows furrow deeper as he struggled to process what could possibly have his husband so worked up. It was just Y/N and Peter, the two of them sitting disgustingly close to one another as they idly watched some movie on the Tower's practically movie-theater sized tel--

Oh. 

Steve grinned at the sight of the two of them, squeezing Bucky's hand excitedly as he watched them. 

"That's great, I didn't know they were back together, did you?"

Bucky merely grunted in response, rolling his eyes and feigning nonchalance whilst internally feeling exceedingly relieved that things would hopefully go back to normal now. He felt so light, in fact, that a deep chuckle burst through his chest before he could stop it-- although he quickly covered it with a cough. 

The sound of him clearing his throat did not go unnoticed, Peter lifted his cheek slightly from the top of your head to look at the two super soldiers. His face immediately broke out into a furious blush, and though he would normally scramble away from you at the sight of your dads, he didn't move a muscle. Instead, he simply smiled nervously in their direction. 

Steve's face broke out into an even bigger grin, and he nodded curtly at the young boy before looking at Bucky with a very smug 'I told you so' face. 

Bucky rolled his eyes in fake annoyance, but shot Peter a knowing wink once Steve turned away. He scored himself a final mental point for sorting things out with Parker as he allowed his husband to pull him towards the door. The teen smiled and returned his attention to your sleeping form, feeling much happier than he had in weeks. 

Taglist: @beth-winchester21 , @peters-legos, @lou-la-lou

[nah-she-didnt]

okay, so all i want is for remus to have a crush on reader or whoever . you can do absolutely anything with this remus just has a really big crush on her and he notices things about her personality and all. fluff because I also want them to like kiss at the end of this all.

Okay here’s the deal anon, I owe you an apology because I’m almost certain that the following story is not what you had in mind. I headcanon that Sirius is gay and Remus is bisexual or pansexual (I also headcanon that Tonks is NB, and I do ship Remadora to a point, but that’s beside the point). So while this might not be exactly what you intended, it’s the story that came to me, so I hope you enjoy! 

Please Send Me Prompts My Inbox Is Sad And Empty 

Firsts

In the three previous years, James had partnered with Sirius in Herbology and Remus with Peter. This was generally how lesson pairs broke down between the four friends, partly because James and Sirius had so much fun goofing off together and partly because Remus wanted to actually concentrate on the professor during lessons. Fourth year, however, was different. 

The first day of classes began like any other. The bright September sun followed the four of them across the grounds into Greenhouse 2 for their first Herbology lesson of term.

“I hope we do Devil’s Snare this year,” Sirius grinned mischievously. 

“God, I don’t,” Peter paled, “imagine if it got you and never let go.” 

“Don’t worry, Pete,” James beamed as he threw glances to the group of Gryffindor girls ahead of them, also on their way to Herbology, “we’d visit you all the time, bring you biscuits, everything.” 

“Fuck off,” grumbled Pete. He’d been in a foul mood all day after their disastrous first Potions lesson where he’d managed to melt his brand-new cauldron. 

“Someone’s grumpy!” Sirius declared as they crossed the threshold into Greenhouse 2, “don’t worry, Pete, I’ll tell you a joke to cheer you up. Have you ever heard about the troll, the hag, and the leprechaun who all go into a bar-” 

“Remus?” 

Remus doubled back, not sorry to miss the rest of Sirius’ joke. Amelia Bones stood a few feet away, wearing a pretty blue hair ribbon to match her Ravenclaw tie. She was twisting her hands nervously over her stomach, and he noticed that she was blushing slightly. The effect the flush had underneath her freckles was quite nice. 

“Hi Amelia,” he squeaked, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “what’s up? How was your summer?” 

“Erm, not bad,” she smiled sweetly up at him, “I was wondering if…” 

“Oi, Remus!” Sirius called across the room, “Pete saved you a seat.” James and Peter snickered behind Sirius, clearly in on the joke to make him look a fool in front of Amelia.

Remus waved them off and turned his attention back to Amelia. “Sorry, ignore them. What were you wondering?” 

She went from pink to red at his words. “I was wondering if… you wanted to be my Herbology partner this year.” 

Remus blinked. “Oh,” he said, unsure if he understood her properly, “um, yeah, alright. You mean all year?” 

She looked stunned at his words. “Oh, yeah, if you wanted…” 

“I do,” he said quickly. To his annoyance, he felt his hand fly to his hair, just like James did when he talked to a girl. “Yeah. I’d like that, Amelia.” 

She beamed at him. “Great! Well, I guess we should get on with it, then,” and she gestured to a pair of empty chairs. 

--

And so they sat together in the Greenhouse. Their conversations were awkward at first. They kept running into long pauses between their feeble attempts at small talk. Remus always kicked himself when he couldn’t decide what to say. He couldn’t tell too many stories, so much of his life had to be kept secret. He couldn’t very well tell her why he looked so tired that one Wednesday after the Full Moon, nor where he had gotten a particularly nasty scar that stretched across the back of his right hand. He was sure she’d get bored of him eventually, but lesson after lesson there she was, smiling from the seat next to him. She didn’t seem to care that he had little to say, because after a few weeks she talked enough for the both of them. 

She told him about her mother’s work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Remus braced himself at this. He knew that the Department was none too friendly towards werewolves, but the topic never came up. She told him that she wanted to head the Department herself someday. 

“Yeah?” he grinned, “you want to work in magical law?” 

She smiled as she misted a rosebush with a spray bottle. “It’s the only thing I can imagine doing, you know, with everything that’s going on.” 

Remus nodded. That was one of the things he liked about Amelia. She had parents in the Ministry. She knew about the war that was surely coming, and she wasn’t afraid. She’d told him once that she’d give her life to protect others if it came to it. 

“Sounds like you should have been in Gryffindor,” he’d told her at this.

“Nah,” she laughed, “you lot are too aggressive. Give me a book over a fight any day.” 

Remus pretended to look wounded. “Not all of us are like that.” 

He stopped his work on the engorged Venus Flytrap in front of him and glanced sideways at her. Her large blue eyes studied him carefully as if she were making up her mind. “No,” she almost whispered, “I suppose you’re not, are you?” 

--

That night in the Common Room found the boys sitting around the roaring fire. James and Sirius played a game of Exploding Snap while Peter watched, clapping his hands and cheering loudly when one of the players had a particularly impressive move. Remus stared into the fire, the book he had been reading lay forgotten in his lap. 

“Moony,” James called, waking Remus from his daydream about Herbology that day, “what’s got your face look all crumpled like that?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” grumbled Sirius, “Bones. Again. Am I wrong?” 

Remus was sure his cheeks had turned dark red at this comment. “No.”

Sirius grimaced. “See? Told you.” 

James laughed out loud. “Remus? In love? I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Not in love,” Remus argued, trying to regain some of his dignity, “in….like, I suppose.” 

“Like...you want to shag her brains out, do you mean?” Peter chuckled. 

“Don’t be gross,” Remus tossed his book at Peter’s head, which unfortunately missed. “She’s funny, that’s all.” 

“Funny?” Said Sirius incredulously, “I’ve never heard her be funny.” 

“Have you ever even talked to her?” Remus frowned. He didn’t know why Sirius was being so nasty.

“‘Course I have,” Sirius muttered, “she seems boring if you ask me.” 

“Well, good thing no one asked you, then,” Remus snapped. He wasn’t interested in dealing with one of Sirius’ moods today. Amelia was a nice girl. She had a good heart and she cared about the things Remus cared about. Sirius was just jealous for whatever reason. 

Sirius jumped to his feet. “Well, if you’re going to blab on about her all night, I’m going to bed.” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “What, and deprive us of your pleasant company?” 

Sirius glared at him, then stomped off up the stairs. 

James stared after his friend. “What was that about?” 

“No idea,” Remus gestured to Peter for his book back, then went back to pretending to read in front of the fire. Really, if Sirius had a problem with Amelia, who cared. 

But he did care. 

--

The ground had frozen solid already, a sure sign that winter approached. Amelia had insisted that they study for their Herbology exam down by the black lake. He wasn’t sure why they had to be outside, but she’d lit a fire that floated several inches above the blanket she laid out for them which provided a buffer of warmth against the brisk wind. 

“Name the Kingdom, Order, and Family of Crataegus, give its common name, and list its magical properties,” Amelia recited from her textbook. 

Remus screwed up his face in concentration. 

“Let’s see...Crataegus, also known as Hawthorn, Kingdom is Plantae, Order is Rosales, and Family is Rosaceae. In ancient times Muggles believed the Hawhotrn had magical properties of rebirth and fertility, and Wizards use its elements in draughts to strengthen the heart,” He glanced at Amelia, “how’d I do?” 

“Brilliant,” she beamed, snapping her book shut. She stretched her legs so that her shoeless feet reached towards the Black Lake. “Let’s take a break, I’m exhausted.” 

“Up all night reading, were you?” he teased.

She tried her best not to smile, but the corners of her mouth gave her away. “If you must know… yes. I couldn’t put down our Transfiguration textbook.” 

Remus gaped at her. “Oh come on!” he laughed, “there’s being studious, and there’s being a bloody nerd!” 

She looked at him in disbelief. “Traitor! I would have thought you, of all people, would understand.” Something changed in her face when she said this. She seemed to grow softer, more earnest. She looked at him as if he were supposed to gain some greater understanding from her words. 

Remus laughed nervously. “Well, I like bloody nerds.” 

“Yeah?” she whispered. She drew closer to him by the second, her eyes boring into his. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. He knew what she wanted from him, and he was pretty sure he wanted it too. 

Their lips met across the space between them. Her skin was warm, and her lips moved naturally against his own. It was a nice feeling, and he kissed her back with interest. His stomach swooped when she gently tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth. He lifted a hand to her cheek and rested it there, gently pulling her closer. 

--

“You WHAT?” 

Remus did not look up from his book. “We kissed. Alright?” 

James stared at him open-mouthed. “How!” he howled, like a child who had a toy taken away by a fed-up parent, “how are you the first one to kiss a girl of the four of us? You’re afraid of girls!” 

“Apparently not,” Remus grinned despite himself. It was true, he’d never been a flirt. But it seemed that James’ strategy of annoying girls until they liked him hadn’t quite paid off yet. 

“And how was it?” Sirius barked across the room from his spot on his four-poster. He still had that strange, hard edge to his voice. He’d been that way for a few weeks now. 

Remus shrugged. “It was nice.” 

“Just nice?” cried Peter, who looked like he was about to explode, “Come on, we need more than that!” 

Remus thought back to the moment down by the lake. “It was...unexpected.” 

“Was it everything you’d ever dreamed of?” Sirius drawled in a bored voice. 

Remus shot him a dirty look. “And if it was?” 

Sirius scoffed. “I doubt it.” 

“Look,” Remus said angrily, “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m sick of this. You’ve been sulking around me for weeks. I don’t know if it’s jealousy, or-”

“Jealous?” Sirius’ eyes flashed with anger, “you think I’m jealous of her?” 

Remus faltered. “No,” he stammered, “I meant-” 

But Sirius cut him off. “Of course, I didn’t mean,” he took a breath, “I just don’t want you lording it over the rest of us, alright? That you’ve got a girlfriend, or whatever. Us Marauders have more important things to think about.” And with that, Sirius tore the hangings around his bed closed with a huff. 

Remus stared at the spot Sirius had been feeling shaken. What had Sirius meant, “you think I’m jealous of her?” 

“Let him sleep it off, mate,” James said uneasily, glancing at the closed hangings around his friend’s bed, “he’s just in a mood.” 

“Fuck off, James,” Sirius called from out of sight. 

James sighed, threw Remus one more apologetic look, then began to get ready for bed. 

Remus sat quite still for a moment. Just minutes ago he could think of nothing but Amelia. Now, Sirius filled his brain. They fought so rarely, it was hard to believe that his kiss with Amelia had made Sirius so angry. After a while, Remus realized he was the last boy awake in the dormitory. Confused and upset, he got to his feet and turned out the light.

[starkeristheendgame]

hey!! im really sorry to bother but i really love your writing & saw that you were taking prompts!! i was wondering if you could do one where tony has a sort of kink for calling peter ‘kid’ in a way, if your comfortable of course! sorry if my English isn’t the best!

I’m so sorry that this got buried to the bottom of my inbox! I hope you’re still around and that you get to see this, and I’m so sorry again that it drowned! I hope you enjoy it and I can only apologise if you hate it 😂

Also; please, please don’t ever apologise for your verbal or lingual ability. Learning another language is hard, and English is noted as one of (if not the most) hardest languages to learn. Being bi/multi-lingual is something to be insanely proud of!

I hope you don’t mind, but all of my prompts recently have been in canon universe, so this is a neighbours AU with no powers. In which Tony is a rich ex-businessman who just wants to tinker on old cars in his (not) retirement and Peter is the high school kid that won’t leave him alone.

TW: ‘Kid’ kink (the term) | Underage character | Underage (SS&C) sex | Daddy kink

Someone had bought the house next to his over the half-term. Peter knew this because the sale sign went down and the garden was immediately de-turfed and a notice was posted through everyone’s door on Wayforest Road that ‘minor construction’ would begun within the next two weeks, from 8am to 5pm daily, save for Saturdays and Sundays.

Peter wanted to laugh in - and then punch - the face of whoever decided to term it minor. Abruptly on the following Monday, almost a full half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, Peter was awoken by deep, loud voices and the clanging of scaffolding poles as the workmen arrived.

Groaning did nothing. Neither did flopping about pathetically on his bed like a beached fish. Burrowing under his duvet and his pillow was also a lost cause; he’d left his window open to keep his room cool in the night.

Seething, Peter flung himself from bed, turned off his alarm, and hopped in the shower. The workmen were gone when he came back, but the house was now a big, ugly grey thing besides his own, and he paused on the sidewalk to eye it mulishly. “If you’re another crabby old man; I’m not helping you walk your groceries up to your porch” he announced loudly to the empty house, and scuttled away to the safety of his own home after being eyed balefully and judgmentally by Mrs. Witkin’s cat.

At the dinner table, the new house and its new occupants were all Aunt May seemed to want to talk about, despite the way Peter’s face resembled less of his usual ‘ :) ‘ and more of a ‘ -.- ‘ as she went on, guessing the features of their new neighbour animatedly around mouthfuls of mashed potato.

Tuesday morning found him jolting awake to a shout of “Jim! Jim! For fuck’s sake, Jim, get tha’ fuckin’ plank!” In a thick, overly loud Irish accent.

By Friday, Peter was ready to forgo just a punch to the face, and was willing to commit all out, planned murder. At somewhere around seven-am every morning that week, the workmen had woken him up with their clanging and their shouting and their existing. Friday evening he stomped around the corner with a glower, fingers tight around his backpack straps. Not even Mrs. Witkin’s mean old cat could deter him from scowling at the house the entire way to his door.

Town rumours be damned; that cat was just old and judgemental, like half the residents there. It was no trapped old lady or cursed young Prince.

Hopefully.

Peter crossed himself on his porch quickly just in case. It could never hurt to be a little superstitious. Especially not after the day that Mr. Herald proclaimed himself immortal and was then promptly wiped out by the tree in his yard collapsing.

By the following Monday, Peter caved and stayed at Ned’s for the night, for the first time in his entire life thankful to hear the music of his alarm and not a series of clangs or yells. It was even good enough that Ned’s snoring didn’t disturb him as much as it usually did. He felt chipper, refreshed. Right up until he turned the corner and found his street lined with vans, the workmen a little late finishing.

The next two months were cesspit of noise and strange men and sleepless days off. Apparently the person who had bought the house must’ve only liked the area and nothing about the house at all, because by week three, all that remained of it was the bare skeleton, gutted and stripped and ugly. But Peter was willing to concede that his new neighbour had good taste.

By the end of the second month the house had been entirely re-built, and Peter was convinced that his new neighbour was some very famous or important person looking for a secret hideaway, or a mob boss. There was no other logical explanation. What had once been a decent but generic detached property with a neglected garden was now a mini-mansion of sorts, all soft creams and light earth tones, with a stonewall front and staggered steps that led onto a half-gravel and half-grass front yard.

Large paned windows were already lined with thick curtains and plants and a sweeping gravel-scape led to a large garage, that seemed to be the most work of the renovation. It was huge, probably taking up over half of what used to be side garden and dead grass. No fence bordered the property, but the difference between Peter’s space and the new person’s space was immaculate and definitive.

“Huh” he mused aloud, blinking. Suddenly, he was less irritated at all those lost half-hours and more curious about who was going to be living there. They had money, for sure. Inheritance? Insurance claim payout? Illegal happenings? Aunt May’s two joking theories were suddenly looking less of a joke and more genuine possibilities.

As it would happen, Peter wouldn’t actually find out for another three or so months. The man moved in on a Saturday, quietly and with a small fleet of sleek SUV vehicles and fancy moving vans. Peter enjoyed a lazy morning, napping until the start of the afternoon and basking in the summer warmth, stretching in front of his bedroom window and looking down in time to see the last of the delivery and moving people packing down their vehicles.

Peter eyed all the bodies curiously, but it soon became clear none of them were his new neighbour, because they all stood around, flipping through paperwork, and then promptly left. Peter lingered under the pretence of dusting at his window ledge, but the street was quiet and empty.

Aunt May was anything but quiet when he finally dragged himself downstairs in search of food. “Peter! Morning, honey. Did you see the vans outside? Very fancy. Big enough for bodies, too, though” May hummed, flipping through the book she was currently reading.

Thirty Ways To Revive Your Youth.

Peter grimaced, and begun to rummage through the cupboards. “Not to question your intelligence, but. Why would a mob boss carry around his victims? Like a few teeth or knuckles ought to serve as good souvenirs. I don’t think carting around whole bodies is practical” Peter pointed out, settling on fruity oatmeal. Aunt May paused in her reading, nose twitching to adjust her glasses as she considered it.

“Hm. Point. Unless they bought the house because they run out of burial room, and these are fairly recent bodies they need the new soil for” she pointed out, and Peter pointed his spoon at her as he passed.

“Point” he agreed.

And so the weeks passed, but the mystery remained. No matter what time Peter tired to linger, or how early he awoke, his neighbour never seemed to be around. Here and there he would catch a figure roaming past the windows, kinda like a ghost, but never a clear view or a face. It was vastly disappointing, but his interest didn’t wane over the months that spanned between his rueful lack of sleep and now.

Now being a hazy Saturday morning, warm but not overly stuffy. Peter was coming back from a morning at Ned’s wherein they’d been steadily chewing away at the LEGO Galactic Supership. He was halfway down the street when a large trailer vehicle begun to drift down the street steadily, heading straight in Peter’s direction.

He paused on the sidewalk, watching it with interest. It was a transportation vehicle, and as it drew closer Peter could see there was a car on the back of it, heavily clamped down and chained to make sure it wouldn’t roll off. The vehicle passed him by some, and he got a clear view of the other car. It looked old, a little broken, rusted. Huge, though. Bigger than all the cars he’d seen before.

It pulled up right outside his neighbours house. Sensing an opportunity, and genuinely curious, Peter lingered, taking a few steps across the sidewalk to eye the car. It was a glossy red, though it had sun fade and was patchy. The chrome was glossy in places and dull, rusted in others. One headlight was missing.

The door of the cab opened, and Peter turned on his heel to see the driver getting out. The friendly greeting died on his lips as toned, thick thighs slid from the cab, followed by trim hips and a long, solid torso only half-hidden under a tank-shirt and overshirt. Broad shoulders prefaced the hottest man that Peter had ever laid eyes on.

He had a shaped jaw that was cut by stubble in a unique style that Peter had never seen anyone wearing before. He had sharp cheeks and dark, deep eyes with long lashes, tanned but not exactly browned and dark, dark hair with the barest flecks of grey at the roots, at his temples.

The man seemed surprised to find him there, pausing mid-way through pushing the door shut and peering around the street before looking back at him. One shaped brow lifted, and Peter stumbled to remember his manners, thrusting out a hand.

“Hi, Mister. Sorry - I was looking at the car. Is it for the new house?” He asked, forcing himself not to blush under the intense gaze. After a brief pause, the man took his hand, palm large and slightly rough, grip firm. He was even more attractive up close, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dark lips and the strong scent of motor oil and grease.

“Would seem that way”.

And Ho-ly voice. Deep and with the softest of rumbles, soothing like a thunderstorm in the far distance. Peter clutched at his jacket when their hands dropped, coughing politely to hide whatever facial expression he’d pulled. The man strode past him and to the car, beginning to work on the many safety straps and chains.

“Did they…Is this theirs?” Peter asked after watching him quietly for several moments with a gesture towards the house besides them. Peter had discovered the house had a second parking bay on the other side, where a glossy black muscle car from the 60′s never seemed to move.

“Theirs’?” The man echoed, pausing in his movements to look up at Peter with curious amusement. It occurred to him then that it was likely some random car recovery guy had seen his new neighbour(s) before he had.

“Uh…Well. I’ve never actually seen them. So I don’t know if its one person, or a whole family, or…” Peter trailed off meekly, looking over his shoulder at the building. It looked as empty as it always did, no lights on and no figures moving behind the windows.

“Townsfolk say its some celebrity having a breakdown. Others say its some old widow using her husband’s life insurance. Even heard from someone that its a mafia lord, settling down in the middle of some quiet ass nowhere town” the recovery man grunted, hauling on a thick, heavy chain. Peter flushed.

Yeah. He was…Guilty of some pretty crazy guesses. But come on. Someone buys a house, spends upwards of hundreds of thousands doing it over, and then…Nothing. No new faces at the grocery store. Never seen, or even heard. Like a ghost.

“They’re not big fans of being…Seen. I guess? I mean, I know a guy with groceries comes around every Monday. Sometimes multiple times a week, but he always puts them in the garage and leaves. And this town is full of judgemental old people - Half of whom probably have mercury poisoning or something. There’s gonna be some pretty wild speculations going around” he pointed out, moving closer to look at what appeared to be a scratch in the paintwork.

The car gave a faint creak as the man released all of the holds on this side, snorting as he rounded the back of the vehicle and went to the other side with a loud, amused snort. Peter followed, and stifled a gasp at the sight of the other car. The man turned, eyeing him for a moment, before nodding.

“Got T-boned by an estate car. But she’s a tough old thing. Heavy metals and good steel; not like today’s cars. She came out better off” he mumbled as he worked on a thick strap, carefully taking apart the various clasps and buckles. Peter approached the car carefully, stretching up on his toes to brush his fingertips over the warped metal. He felt almost….Sad for the car.

He traced the flaking paint and the twisted, dented metal tenderly, and when he pulled away, the man was watching him again, movements slowed as he pulled the material through the metal. “Is this their car? What good is it now if its all broken up?” He asked curiously.

The man ducked his head, moving onto another thick chain. “Its just the one guy. I guess its a…Hobby. Of his. Bought her yesterday at a scrap lot”. He seemed uncomfortable saying it, but to Peter it was like gold trust. One guy. Huh. A big old house like that? That seemed rather lonely. Maybe it really was some rich old person retiring, enjoying a quiet place and a mechanics hobby.

Peter was going to ask more, but the car was freed with a grinding sound, and the man gestured him carefully back with his hand, holding it out in front of Peter to walk him back like a horse, to a safe distance. The man used two remotes to bring the car to the ground, Peter watching in fascination as rotors and rolling mechanisms moved it backwards and onto the tarmac of the road.

“How do you plan on moving it now?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted it as the man shed his over-shirt. Biceps. Shoulders. Forearms. His throat went dry and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

As it turns out, the plan was simply ‘push’. Peter scoffed, but was soon at a loss to anything but stare as the man leaned heavily against the trunk of the car, muscles bulging in the afternoon sun. Heavy or not, the car soon begun to roll, and after a moment Peter dropped his backpack and came up besides the straining man, leaning all his might against the metal.

It probably did fuck all, but the man gave him a wry grin all the same, chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths as they moved the car across the flat ground and onto the side-drive space. Peter’s shoulder ached and his arms and thighs suddenly felt like jelly, but the man slapped him across the back.

“Good effort, kid” and then moved away, heading towards the front door. Peter gaped as the man simply grasped the doorhandle and pushed the door open, and floundered on the drive. “Wait! You’re just gonna walk into his house?” He called, and the man paused mid-step, looking back at him.

“Well. I ought to just ‘walk in’. Its my house”. And with a lewd, perfect wink he was gone. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, flailing on the driveway with error logs flashing behind his eyes. That was his neighbour. His neighbour was some rich, late-thirty something hot-hot-hot guy who fixed broken classic cars.

“Oh my god” Peter muttered, stomping down the driveway to get his bags. Four months. He’d lived next to this Playgirl model for four months.

He decided against telling Aunt May. It felt selfish, but it also felt good to know he was the only person to have seen him. Even though he realised not long after reaching his room that he hadn’t even gotten his name. Peter waited by his window for hours, but saw neither hair nor hide of the man again. By morning, the transport truck was gone and the cherry red car was presumably inside the garage.

The damned guy was magic. There was no other explanation. Fuelled, Peter spent the Sunday morning in the kitchen, furiously baking with narrowed eyes and a plan. The muffins were done by mid-day, and Peter iced them carefully before boxing them, and stomping across the sidewalk to his neighbour’s house.

Peter knocked, and waited. Knocked again. Waited. “If you don’t answer the door then I’m just going to sit here” he announced loudly, knocking again before plopping down onto the porch just to prove a point. Several long minutes passed before his neighbour appeared around the corner, from the garage judging by the grease steaks up his arms, scowling.

“Kid. Here’s a life tip; if someone doesn’t answer the door, its because they don’t want company” the man huffed, but his eyes zeroed in on the box with intense curiosity, and Peter shrugged, smug.

“You came out, though” he pointed out, pushing himself to his feet. The man scoffed, but allowed him to follow, leading the way around the building where a small side-door was open.

“I came out about thirty years ago, kiddo. If that’s a congratulations cake, you’re a little late”. Peter tripped over the gravel, fighting his legs to remain upright and his stomach did a weird knot inside him. Oh. Not only was his neighbour hot, but he was at the least male inclined, too.

Very interesting.

“Actually, these are just welcome muffins. Chocolate and orange” Peter murmured, stepping inside the garage. It was bigger than it seemed, and the cherry red car stood in the centre, sanded down and clearly being worked on already.

“Peter, by the way. Peter Parker” he added after a pause, and almost offered his hand for a second time, but settled instead on thrusting the muffin box at the man. He raised a brow, but delved inside to pull one out, clearly eager at the prospect.

“Tony” he offered simply, and Peter tested it on his tongue, enjoying the shape. For now; he’d let the lack of a last name go. Good things in time, after-all. Choosing to invite himself to stay, Peter perched primly on top of the edge of the workbench, electing another raised brow, but Tony’s mouth was too full of muffin to object.

Tony begun to work as he ate, and Peter sat in content silence, watching as Tony and his bulging arm muscles took each wheel off the car and begun to strip it of all its chrome features. Peter checked his phone after a while and was surprised to find that around four hours had passed. May would be home from her sewing group about now. He ought to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and jumped at the same time Tony did, the man smacking his arm off warped metal with a shout. Tony whirled on him, eyes wide, gaze flicking between him and the door, before he looked…Confused.

“You’re still here?” He asked, and Peter snorted as he dusted off his pants, heading for the door with a shake of his head. May came home shortly after he did, and Peter supposed he ought to let her know that he’d be visiting Tony again tomorrow.

“So he’s not a mafia boss? Or a celebrity?” She asked around a mouthful of roasted chicken, looking rather disappointed as Peter shrugged and shook his head.

“He just seems…Aloof? I don’t know. Maybe he’s some business tycoon or something. But he seems nice. I’m just going over to help him with this car he’s got. It’s real nice, too” Peter hummed, and Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger. Albeit a hot one, apparently. And you have school tomorrow, too. You shouldn’t be hanging around strangers. Unless…If he happens to be single…I’d be open to his number” May shrugged after a pause, and Peter blinked.

May was surprisingly easy to placate, and he assured her that if she wanted to, she could march right over to Tony and give him a Mother Hen Talk after dinner, but she decided against that, and in favour of a hot bath. School on Monday rolled around quicker than Peter could say ‘garage’ and he decided against telling Ned about Tony.

He wanted Tony all to himself. At least…For as long as he could. It was strange, but he found his heart thumping as he marched down Tony’s driveway and up to the garage door this time, knocking on it loudly. He’d brought lemonade and sandwiches this time.

The garage door opened, and Tony looked equally as startled to see Peter there as he had the day prior, gaze raking his body before frowning, and stepping aside with a sigh. “You’re like a mosquito, kid. I came here to get away from people” Tony announced pointedly, and Peter founded on him with an unimpressed gaze and an arched brow of his own.

“If you truly wanted to get away from people, you’d have moved out in the mountains or something. Now, get back to work. In an hour you can stop for supper. I brought chicken sandwiches” he ordered, taking his seat from the day before and pulling his calculus homework from his bag.

He kept his gaze down as Toy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times, before he went for his wrench, muttering to himself as he lay down on a wheeled bench and rolled under the car. Peter smiled quietly into his papers. A little over two hours later - he lost count, sue him - Peter pushed himself to his feet and strode over to the car, kicking Tony lightly in the ankle that stuck out.

“We can eat now” he announced, walking back over to his pack and taking out the tupperware he’d packed this morning. He could hear the sound of the wheels moving, and he turned, holding out the box. Tony looked perplexed, but approached and took it, still looking puzzled even as he bit into his own portion.

“Not that the pattern of snacks isn’t appreciated, kid, but…Why are you here?” he asked after he’d swallowed, and Peter actually had to think about it, flushing as his mind conjured up inappropriate responses like ‘I want to lick your arms’ and ‘You look like the hot mechanics in my pornos’.

He settled on a shrug, chewing slowly for more time. “You’re interesting. You’re my neighbour. You’re not a mafia boss or a broken down celebrity” he pointed out. Tony twitched on the last one, but gave a hum and moved away, scarfing down the last of his sandwich and returning to the car. This time, when Peter informed him he was leaving and would be back tomorrow again, Tony neither jumped nor looked surprised.

It became a pattern. Three out of seven days a week, Peter would sit in the garage with his homework or revision and Tony would work on the red car, which Peter came to learn was a 1958 Plymouth Fury. “Just like in Christine” Tony had huffed proudly, and had then been quickly appalled when Peter had simply stared blankly.

That night, Peter had watched the movie, and his next visit was spent talking animatedly about it with Tony, discussing their favourite parts and what it might be like if it was ever re-made. After a month, Aunt May picked her way across the gravel to finally meet the man her adopted son kept disappearing off to be with, and Peter had the unfortunate experience of watching them flirt together, Tony in a cheeky, smooth, outrageous manner and Aunt May like a school-girl. When he begun to gag in the corner, Tony threw an oil rag at him.

One day, a week before the summer holidays, Peter rounded the corner to find Tony stood on the porch, looking angry and tense and talking to a tall woman with red hair, tied up in a ponytail. Peter stopped and lingered, unsure of what to do. Besides him and May, he’d never seen anyone else talking to Tony. Even the grocery delivery guy simply put the bags in the garage and left.

After a while, the woman turned away, looking sullen and displeased, and slipped into a sleek black SUV, pulling off with a screech of her tires and the rev of her engine. By the time Peter reached the house, Tony was back inside, and he knocked quietly, leaning closer to the door.

Tony didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tony? I’m not sure what happened, but…If you’re not up for hanging out today, its cool. I brought soup, but I’ll leave yours on the porch. It might be hot, so…Be careful”. Peter stooped and left the thermos close to the door, before leaving. He felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day, longed to go see Tony, but everything in his gut told him to let him be for a time.

Whoever that man had been, he was clearly someone Tony didn’t like or want around.

Almost a whole week passed in which Tony didn’t answer the door, and by the Saturday, the first official day of the summer holidays, Peter was moping. Not to anyone that asked, but it was clear to even Ned that he’d been a little down lately, declining a celebratory LEGO fest in exchange for slinking up to his room.

No sooner had he toed off his shoes, the doorbell rung. Peter groaned, turning on his heel and abandoning his sweater on the staircase. It was probably another of Aunt May’s Amazon orders. Since she’d discovered the wonders of online shopping, Peter had learned their regular post-man was named Greg, he had two kids and a poodle, and was allergic to shrimp.

“What has she bought this ti- Tony?” Peter paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight on his doorstep. Tony looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking more lined than before, but he gave a weak smile up at Peter, still stiff and unsure.

“Hey, kiddo. Figured you might…I made spaghetti. And I still have your thermos. Was gonna work on the car a bit”.

Peter recognised it for the attempted invitation that it was, and didn’t bother to fight off his broad grin. “Lucky for you, I love spaghetti. I just gotta grab a sweater on” he beamed, practically flinging himself up the stairs. Tony’s spaghetti was amazing, with some kind of pink-ish sauce, little chunks of shrimp and prawns, all tangy and sweet.

He even let Peter help with the car. Or…Well. He let Peter hold the torch. And the wrench. But still.

He was still grinning when he skipped home that evening, and when he crawled into bed his dreams were filled with oil-stained arms and a low, rumbling voice. He gasped awake in the early hours, cock hard and leaning against his hip, Tony’s voice echoing in his skull.

He shouldn’t.

He bit his lip and reached down, whimpering as he wrapped a hand around himself. He was too hard to last more than a few minutes, stifling his yell of “Tony!” Into his pillow as he came. When he arrived at Tony’s house later in the day, he could barely look the man in the eyes, flustered and shy.

The holidays continued in a similar fashion. They hung out almost every day in the garage, often for an entire day. Peter felt guilty about abandoning Ned, but looking at Tony’s broad smile, listening to his quips, watching his abs flex under his shirts as he lifted things...It was worth it.

By the fourth week of his holidays, after numerous days of lounging together with takeout and Tony helping him with his homework, Peter piped up.

“Peter”.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peter” he repeated, nudging Tony gently where they lay together on the floor of the garage, staring up at the underside of the car. It was almost complete. Something to do with the clutch, and then all it needed was new paint. “You keep calling me ‘kid’. So. Y’know. In case you’d forgotten” he hummed.

Besides him Tony stilled, only briefly, before relaxing and swatting at him. “You are a kid, though”.

“I’m sixteen. I’m not a kid” Peter huffed, rolling onto his side and kneeing Tony in the thigh. Tony let his head loll, looking across at him with dark, dark eyes, and Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was close enough to kiss. And god, Peter wanted to kiss him. Had spent the past few weeks staring at his body, his mouth when he talked, waking up at night hard and aching.

Peter let his gaze drop, to plush lips outlined by dark stubble, and then he pushed himself up, momentarily hovering over Tony as he got his legs beneath him. “And you’re an old man” he tried, teasing, tugging at a lock of hair at Tony’s temple.

For the briefest, briefest of moments, Tony’s gaze went even darker. Hungrier. Peter thought about it in the shower that night, two fingers stuffed inside himself with too-little prep, mewling against the shower tiles. Almost as if…

He begun to get bolder. Touched Tony more. Stood closer. Any excuse to be in his space. If Tony noticed he said nothing, only giving lingering, unreadable looks and only ever turning away with a poorly hidden smirk whenever Peter said anything just a little too obvious.

On the last week of his holidays, Peter was kneeling half over Tony, dabbing gingerly at a slice on his bicep while the man clutched an ice-pack to his knee. The cherry red car was out, and an old, 1957 Chrysler Saratoga was in. And apparently, angry.

“Kid, seriously. I’m fine” Tony huffed, swatting at him as he dabbed away another crust of blood, peering at the wound. It wasn’t that deep, but it had bled something fierce. Peter lifted his gaze, scowling at him.

“I’m not a kid!” He snarked, pressed a little too hard on the wound just because he could. Watched Tony flinch under his touch and instantly felt guilty. He pulled away the cloth and ducked down, pressed a kiss to the wound before he could ever think about it. Aunt May had always done it for him, kissing his ouchies better. He froze, lips against jagged skin.

“Kid” Tony rasped, looking down at him with wide, dark eyes. Peter jerked backwards, and huffed.

“Keep calling me kid, I’m gonna start calling you ‘old man’“ he scowled. He was about to say ‘Or worse, Dad’, but…That was a bumpy road and he wasn’t ready to loose whatever he had built with Tony. Not yet. The older man snorted back at him, eyes rolling, and reached out, fingers closing around his jaw gently to shake his head a little.

“Look at you. You are. That little baby face. And you’re so small, like a cat. All slender. Couldn’t even lift up the gearbox. All big eyes and too must trust. I could’ve been an old pervert or sex criminal and you just walked right up to me and wouldn’t leave” Tony murmured, voice half-gone and gaze fixed on where he held Peter’s jaw.

“Wouldn’t - Did not” Peter managed, though he was already getting hard, his breathing was already a little shorter. Sharper. Tony gave a deep breath, fingers flexing against his jaw.

“You’re just a kid. A little baby. All soft-cheeked and gentle. You’re a kid now and you’ll be a kid for a long time. Nothing like me”.

And. Huh.

Peter blinked, jaw still clasped in Tony’s grip, and he relaxed his body, inching a little closer. “What is it about that, then? Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Its not. Its not bad. I’m just…I’m the bad one. Christ. Kid. You’re - You sit here doing homework. You don’t even have facial hair yet. I bet you haven’t even popped a stiffy before”. The words startled Tony as much as Peter, both visibly jolting, and Tony immediately looked like he wanted to die.

“Hey! Not true! Every night this holiday I’ve done more than ‘pop a stiffy’ over y-”. Peter bit down on his tongue, hard, watched the way Tony’s eyes widened. Fuck. They both jerked backwards, equally as taken aback by the revelation. There was no doubt as to what Peter had been about to say. Now way he could laugh it off or change it; though the subject was bad enough.

“I…”

“Kid…”

Peter huffed, leaning back on his haunches and dropping the cloth. “What, you got a kink for the word or something, Mister Tony?” Peter grumbled, but he could see Tony physically tense up opposite him, and he looked up, watched the almost shameful way that Tony turned his gaze away.

It hit him.

“You…Do” he huffed numbly.

“Its not…Christ. Peter. I’m not a…I’m not attracted to kids. I don’t know what it is. I just…Fuck. Maybe you should be calling me an old pervert. Fuck. I…Peter. You have to believe I don’t..I’ve never touched a kid. Never. My youngest partner was twenty when I was thirty. She was a hooker in Dubai and…Wait. You’re a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be talking about hookers and swearing and-”

Peter clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, shaking his head. Jesus. He knew it was true, though. Tony was a recluse and laughably inept at anything social, but he wasn’t some scorned kiddie-toucher banished to a quaint little town.

“I know, Tony. I know. And I believe you. But if its not that, then…What is it?”. Tony only blinked at him slowly, for several beats, and it was then that Peter realised that his hand was on Tony’s mouth, and the man couldn’t speak. Though he could well have moved it himself. He let it drop, flushing.

“I don’t know” Tony croaked helplessly, and he looked so small, so lost. It was instinct that had Peter leaning forwards, gathering Tony in a tight embrace. The older man stiffened, but then relaxed, hand hesitantly falling to Peter’s side, featherlight like he was scared to touch him.

“Its…You’re so delicate. So…Untouched. Like a painting. Pretty. You shouldn’t be touched. Not yet. Not by me. But I want to”. It made Peter’s spine tingle and arch, letting out a surprised breath against the curve of Tony’s jaw. Tony made him sound like the Mona Lisa or something.

“I’m not a good person, Peter. I’m…All these months, you don’t even know my last name. Half the town thinks I’m a murderer or some kind of lunatic. But I’m worse than that”. Tony practically breathed it into his shoulder, head falling. Peter clutched at him, suddenly scared. Worse than those things?

“Tony Stark”.

Peter paused. Was silent for such a long time that Tony tensed against him again, before he begun to pet gently at Tony’s shoulders. “…Who? I mean, the name is vaguely familiar. But…Who?”

Tony pulled away, leaned back, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a ludicrous expression. “Stark. Tony Stark”.

Peter raised a brow. “Bond, James Bond?”

“What? No. The weapons company? Stark Industries?” Tony asked after a pause, like it was information Peter ought to know. After another pause of his mind being ridiculously blank, Peter sat upright, head tilting.

“Oh! Yeah. Stark Industries. But…What about it?”

Tony blinked at him, slowly, like there was a punchline he’d missed, and then he was reaching out, crushing Peter to his chest to the boy fell half over him with a yelp, squeezing him gently.

“You’re - Unbelievable. Never change, kid. I’m…I did bad things. I killed people. Carried on the family name despite spending my life trying to outrun it. I…I was betrayed. So I fixed it, and I left. And I was supposed to keep my hands off anything good. Anyone good. And here you are”.

“Okay. Firstly? You gotta stop calling me ‘kid’ now I know its a kink and you don’t intend to do anything about it. Secondly…I don’t know what you did. Or what happened. But I know what you’ve been since you got here. Who you’ve become. And I think you’re a good man” he breathed, adjusting so he was no longer straining, half-straddling Tony.

“You shouldn’t…” Tony didn’t finish the sentence, and there were a million things he could’ve said. But Peter chose to ignore them all, squirming his way closer until he really was sat in Tony’s lap. And this was more than they’d ever done.

More than the one-armed hugs and lingering touches, more than leaning shoulder-to-shoulder eating noodles. More than Peter listing against Tony’s side in the early morning hours, maths homework forgotten on the bench and Tony sitting still, so still, so as not to wake him.

“I’m old enough to know ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, Mr. Stark. Besides. This is just…Hugging. Right? Innocent” he hummed, even as he deliberately shifted on Tony’s lap, a little heavier than he ought to, spread his legs wider around Tony’s hips.

“Ki- Peter” Tony huffed against him, fingers tightening around the hem of his sweater. It wasn’t until Peter shifted again that he realised; Tony was hard. Well. Getting there, but hard enough for Peter to recognise it. To feel it, digging into the round meat of his asscheek.

“I don’t touch kids” Tony repeated, and Peter snorted softly, shaking his head as he gripped at Tony’s broad shoulders, muscle honed by years of hard work. Muscle that led up to rough stubble, a sharp jaw that Peter nosed at.

“Good thing I’m not actually a kid then, Mr. Stark. That means you can touch”.

Tony surged forwards on a growl, lay Peter out like a feast on the garage floor; but still hovered over him. Reluctant. Uncertain. Peter lifted his legs, wrapped them around Tony’s waist, tight and steady. “Kiddo…”

“Mm. Your kiddo. Or I could be. If you kissed me” Peter grinned, breathless and bold with the sweet taste of Tony so close. Mere inches. “Kiss me” Peter repeated, and Tony growled as he surged downwards.

When Tony came, it was with ‘kid’ sharp and electric on his tongue. And…Well. Peter felt a little mollified, so naturally, it led to round two, pressing Tony down against the concrete, milking him for all he was worth as a broken ‘Peter!’ cracked on his tongue like a prayer.

The rounds after that were just…Well.

Purely selfish.

[official-wayward-keener]

heyo!!! for the promt ask thing, could you write "but i figured it out, everything i need is on the ground" for parkner please!! Thank you!!

But I Figured it Out, Everything I Need is on the Ground

Hope you enjoy! Also drop a title and a relationship or character in my inbox if you haven’t for a fic.

Peter liked heights because they made him feel safe. He didn’t have much on the ground. His aunt really. It's why behind Spider-Man was easy for him. That was until Harley came along. Harley Keener who made him feel special and made him feel love. Maybe feeling love was all he needed but he still preferred the skies. Maybe if he could fly then it would be easier and he wouldn’t lose people. Maybe that is why he didn’t like to be on the ground anymore. It was just easier for him to lose people on the ground. The sky had no one but maybe he could protect the few he had on the ground.

“Peter,” Harley said. Peter realized he had been ignoring Harley again. “Finally back from the clouds I see.” Peter nodded as he snuggled closer to Harley. It was first thing in the morning and he didn’t want to get out of bed. Out of the room they shared. He just wanted to stay there in Harley’s arms a little longer before they had classes today.

“They closed the street,” Harley said. “Classes got cancelled ‘cause the bad weather.”

“I still got to go out later,” Peter muttered into Harley’s shoulder.

“Tony threatened to hunt you down if you go out in this weather. The whole state is talking about shutting down at this point. If someone wants to commit crime in this weather then they are stupid enough to be let off the hook for a night,” Harley pointed out. Peter went to argue but he knew it was pointless. He would get too cold out there without his heated suit which he had dropped off with Tony because it was acting up. So now he only had his other suits. They weren’t designed to keep the heater on as long as his winter suit that Tony came up with when he mentioned he couldn’t thermoregulate. Peter sighed as he cuddled closer to the warm body that was holding him. He could stay like this for a while. 

“No arguments?” Harley asked. “I thought I would hear more arguments from you.”

“If I argued you would just call Tony and Tony would call May and I don’t want to argue with May when I could be warm in your arms right now,” Peter opened his eyes to see Harley looking at him with a smile on his face. 

“Thanks,” Harley told him. “For staying when I know it matters to you to be out there.”

“You made a lot of good points,” Peter let him know before he closed his eyes snuggling back into Harley’s arms. “Besides you are warm and safe. Like the summer sky.”

“Yes, because the summer sky will hold you just right,” Harley joked and Peter realized maybe Harley had a point. He was more relaxed with Harley there and it was almost better than swinging knowing someone was there to care for him even when he was at his lowest point. Peter smiled thankful for his boyfriend.

“Lost in your head again?” Harley asked Peter. Peter nodded as he looked at Harley and thought about how lucky he was to have him. Harley seemed to move as if he was about to get up but Peter didn’t want to lose the nice body heat that was keeping him from freezing like he normally did.

“I just got to make breakfast so you don’t get hungry,” Harley told him. Peter let go reluctant to lose Harley to the kitchen. Harley kissed his forehead leaving Peter alone. Peter slowly fell back to sleep.

~

Peter awoke to Harley bringing him food and hot chocolate. Peter smiled thankful for Harley and taking care of him. He sat up as they ate breakfast in bed both enjoying the day since they didn’t get many mornings where they both could just lay around. Peter didn’t know what he did to be luckily lying there with a caring boyfriend who loved him. 

“Thank you,” Peter said.

“It was nothing,” Harley said. “I just like to make sure you are eating with your spidey metabolism.” Peter smiled his goofy smile as he kissed Harley’s cheek.

“I love you,” Peter said.

“I know,” Harley said. Peter felt a sense of pride knowing his boyfriend was quoting his favorite movie.

“You know the way to my heart,” Peter joked. Harley did know Peter’s favorite things and how to care for him. Peter was lucky to have him and maybe Harley was his excuse to stay out of the sky and on the ground. 

[css1992]

Highschool au: Teen tony and peter having a meet in the janito's closet

Hi there! I really hope you’re still out there, anon, and I hope you enjoy this! I’m sorry it took so long.

I still have a few prompts in my inbox, I promise I’m gonna work on all of them, please have patience with me.

High School Au. Bad Boy!Tony x Nerd!Peter.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: explicit, nff, 18+. If you spot anything that might be triggering to anyone, please let me know!

-*-

Tony was the coolest guy in school, there was no doubt about it. He always showed up in expensive, black leather jackets, ripped jeans and stylish, worn-out chucks. He was the only student who got away with smoking on school grounds every single time he got caught, and he even got away with wearing some black eyeliner from time to time – no one messed with him, no one dared to call him names or push him into lockers.

Everyone who wanted to be someone orbited around him like his gravitational pull was irresistible. Girls wanted to date him, they threw themselves at him like he was some famous movie star, they liked hanging on his arm like accessories, because just to be seen beside him made them a hundred times more popular. Everyone wanted to be a part of his very select and weirdly diverse friend group, but no matter how hard they tried, no one ever made it.

Besides being sinfully handsome and incredibly stylish, Tony was filthy rich. His father owned a multinational weapons and technology company, which made them one of the richest families in the country, so when he showed up in Midtown High one everyone was shocked and confused. Rumor had it Tony had been expelled from three private schools before, so, as a punishment, his father enrolled him in a public school – but Tony didn’t seem to mind at all, he actually blended in like he belonged there.

Peter fell in love with him on day one. He saw what everyone else saw – the beauty, the danger, the rebellious attitude – but he saw so much more, too. Even though Tony was one of the “cool kids”, he was never mean to anyone. He never made fun of other kids, he even stood up for some of them, like when Flash was bullying a kid in drama club, calling him a fag, and he just punched him in the face – he was suspended for three days after that. He was also really smart, he took the same AP classes as Peter and a few more and he always got perfect scores, even though he never seemed to be paying attention.

At first, he thought his crush wouldn’t lead anywhere, Tony was straight after all. When they were in freshman year, he started dating Pepper Potts, the prettiest and smartest girl in school. A year later, though, he broke up with her and got caught making out with Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ ex, behind the bleachers – that’s how everyone found out he was bisexual. Peter was at the same time delighted to hear about it – because that meant he stood a chance – and also devastated – because if Bucky Barnes was Tony’s type, there was just no fucking way he actually stood a chance.

He was just a skinny nerd with ugly glasses held together with a little bit of duct tape, he wasn’t devastatingly handsome with bright blue eyes and broad shoulders. He wasn’t good at sports like Bucky, he was in the Decathlon team and in the school band, which a guy like Tony would find totally lame, of course. He wasn’t stylish and cool, he wore baggy jeans and nerdy t-shirts and sweaters and he’d probably look ridiculous in a leather jacket.

So, yeah, he thought he didn’t stand a chance. That is, until one day he stayed late after class, working on a project for the science club, and he lost track of time. There was no one else in the halls when he finished, so he hurried outside and, as soon as he was out the door, he was faced with Tony Stark, leaning against his car in the school parking lot, smoking a cigarette and looking as dangerous and handsome as ever. He looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow and the younger teen blushed, dropping his gaze and walking down the stairs as quickly as he could without looking like he was running. He didn’t get too far, though, as he heard Tony’s raspy, sexy voice – Peter himself still sounded like a squeaky teen – calling him.

“Hey, you!” Peter didn’t think he could possibly be talking to him, so he looked around like a moron, but there was no one else on the sidewalk. He turned to Tony again.

“Uh – me?” He pointed dumbly at his own chest, eliciting an amused smile from the older teen. He blushed, feeling stupid, but Tony just nodded.

“Yeah, you, come here.” He gestured with one hand for Peter to come closer and the younger teen felt his palms starting to sweat, but he walked the few feet from the sidewalk to the spot his car was parked and stopped in front of him. Tony looked him up and down with a smirk. “You’re in my AP Chemistry class, right?”

“Uh-- yeah, yes. I am. Yes.” Peter grabbed his backpack straps tightly, trying to hold Tony’s gaze, but it was so hard, he had this look in his eyes that made Peter feel naked, exposed.

“Hm. So, what’s your name?” He asked, throwing his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

“I’m Peter. Parker.” He could barely believe Tony Stark was talking to him, let alone wanted to know his name. To be fair, he looked pretty bored and there was no one else around, so maybe he was just looking for a distraction. Peter wasn’t complaining, he’d take what he could get.

“I’m Tony.” He offered his hand and the other teen hesitated for a few seconds before taking it, fingers trembling. His hand was big and rough, like he imagined it would be, it had tiny cuts and burns across the knuckles and Peter wasn’t sure if it was because of the fights he got into or because of his electronics class. Maybe both.

“I know,” he whispered, feeling dumb again when a smile spread across Tony’s face. “I’m not a stalker or anything, you’re just… Hard to miss,” he mumbled, letting go of his hand to scratch his arm, looking away from him.

“Yeah? Well, so are you.” He gave him this crooked smile that made Peter’s heart speed up and he sucked in a breath, feeling a little dizzy.

“Wh – me?” He blinked rapidly as he looked around again, trying to find anyone else who Tony could be referring to, because he certainly couldn’t be talking about him, there was just no way.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching you. Not in a creepy way, promise. I like your spider web thing, it’s really smart.” He grinned and Peter blushed again, ducking his head.

“Thanks. I-I like your robots. Uhm, Dum-E and U, right?” He asked shyly and Tony grinned.

“Ah, so you’ve been stalking me after all,” He raised a brow and Peter’s eyes widened in embarrassment. “I’m just messing with you, Parker.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can I drive you home?”

And that was when it all started. When he said a breathless yes without even thinking, when he got into the older teen’s fancy sports car and listened to his rambling and stared at his strong hands gripping the wheel. When Tony parked his car in front of his apartment building and Peter didn’t know how to say goodbye. When Tony leaned in towards him and the younger teen’s breath hitched, but he closed his eyes anyway, heart beating fast and loud. It started when their lips met in a soft, chaste kiss and Peter all but melted in his seat.

“You know, I was just gonna grab the door for you, I wasn’t sure we were there yet,” When he opened his eyes, Tony was grinning mischievously and Peter almost combusted with shame.

“Oh, God! Oh, my God!” He covered his face with his hands and heard Tony laughing before he felt him grabbing his wrists.

“Hey, stop, I hoped we were there, I was just worried maybe this would be too fast for you, but if it’s okay with you, it’s more than fine with me.” He was still chuckling, though, and Peter refused to take his hands off his face, a little humiliated. “Hey, come here, c’mon. Let me kiss you properly this time.”

He allowed Tony to take his hands off his face, even though his cheeks must be flaming red. He avoided the other teen’s eyes, but felt the rough pads of his fingers holding his jaw with so much care and gentleness that it made him look up at his face. Tony smiled at him, whispering a breathless “there you are”, and closed the distance between them, lips meeting once again.

It wasn’t Peter’s first kiss, but it might as well be. He was so nervous, his hands were shaking when they reached for Tony’s leather jacket, he ran out of breath when his tongue licked his lower lip and he opened his mouth, tasting cigarette smoke, mint and Tony. He remembered all the times he dreamed about that in his bed, not even in his wildest dreams did it ever feel so good and right.

That was two months ago. Ever since then, they had been sneaking around school to make out in secluded places, sometimes they’d wait for everyone to leave so Peter could get in his car without being seen and Tony would drive him home. Ned and MJ knew about them, but he thought they were the only people in school who did, it didn’t seem like Tony had told any of his friends, which bothered Peter a little, but he let it slide. Tony was always nice and caring when they were together, it wasn’t that big of a deal that he was a little embarrassed to be seen with him.

He watched as Tony passed him by in the cafeteria, heart beating loudly in his ears as he waited for him to at least look his way, maybe acknowledge him somehow – a simple nod would suffice –, he looked gorgeous, as always, with his wind-swept, dark, soft-looking hair, his signature black leather jacket and ripped jeans. He strode through the cafeteria like he owned the place and Peter could swear the room grew quieter until Tony took his seat – or he just tuned everyone out in his concentration, there was no way to tell. No matter how hard he stared, though, Tony didn’t even spare him a single glance, he went straight to his friends’ table – the cool table -, where Natasha, Clint, Thor, Bruce and Rhoddes sat waiting for him. Peter sighed in defeat, turning back to his friends.

“You know he’s a jerk, right?” MJ said from across the table, never lifting her eyes from her copy of Mom & Me & Mom. “He doesn’t deserve you, he treats you like you’re a just piece of meat, you deserve better than that,” she said with boredom in her tone, like she knew he wouldn’t listen to her – he never did, after all.

“It’s not like that –“ He tried to argue in Tony’s favor, but it never went well.

“It is.” She shrugged, turning a page of her book.

“Dude, he’s making out with the coolest guy in school, leave him alone,” Ned was actually more excited about Peter’s affair then he himself was, apparently.

“Whatever, nerds.” MJ rolled her eyes and proceeded to ignore them, as Ned started babbling about some party at Liz’s house on the weekend and how they weren’t invited yet, but maybe they still had a chance.

Peter was only half listening to him, his eyes were focused on Tony the whole time. The older teen was smiling – and God, what a beautiful smile – at something Bruce said. Bruce was the only friend of Tony’s that he actually talked to, they had a lot in common, and it made him hopeful because he was maybe as big of a nerd as Peter and he dated Thor, one of the hottest guys in school. So if they could be a couple, maybe someday Tony would consider dating-dating him, not just fooling around. But then again, that didn’t seem to be Tony’s style. He only ever dated Pepper Potts, and that was an on-again off-again relationship that lasted all of one year, ever since then he just fooled around with various people at parties and stuff.

meet me u know where

Peter was startled awake from his daydreams when his phone beeped and a text from Tony showed up on the screen of his phone. Ned quickly leaned over his shoulder to read it as well, whooping excitedly when he did. Peter felt butterflies in his stomach, it had been a couple of days since he and Tony met and he missed him like crazy. He quickly grabbed his stuff and stumbled to the cafeteria’s door, ignoring Ned’s pep talk.

He all but ran through the halls towards an empty corridor where the janitor’s closet was - and they knew he wouldn’t be back there at that time, it was his lunch break, so they had at least thirty minutes. He picked the lock like Tony taught him and stepped inside the cramped space. It was tiny, there was barely any room for two people standing, and there were brooms and buckets and cleaning products everywhere, but it was more than enough for Peter. He dropped his backpack to the ground and waited.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and Tony stepped in, but the younger teen didn’t even have time to greet him as he was grabbed by the waist and pushed against the closed door. Peter all but melted against Tony’s body, wrapping his arms around his neck and sighing happily as he finally felt his soft, plump lips crashing against his.

Tony was an amazing kisser, not that Peter had a lot to compare – he’d only ever kissed one girl and one boy before, and both kisses had lasted seconds – but he could tell by the way it made his knees go weak, his fingers tremble, his skin shiver. Tony bit his lower lip carefully, then licked it as an apology, only to kiss him again even deeper and more passionately, and if Peter hadn’t been holding on to him tightly, his knees would have definitely given out.

“Did you wear those jeans today just to drive me crazy, Parker?” Tony whispered in his ear as his fingers lifted the hem of Peter’s t-shirt to touch the skin above the waistband of his jeans. Peter blushed a bright pink, because, yeah, actually, he had bought those pants with Tony in mind, thinking of his reaction. They were a little more form-fitting then what he usually wore.

“Do you like them?” He asked bashfully, feeling Tony’s lips traveling across his jaw back to his mouth, his thumbs were gently stroking the sensitive skin on his hipbones and it was sending shivers down his spine, along with Tony’s breath against his lips.

“I really, really do, babe,” Peter gasped softly as he felt the other’s tongue slip into his mouth again, taking his breath away in the process. Tony pushed his hips forwards, pressing his erection against Peter’s, making them both grunt, as the older teen started rolling his hips lazily, creating the most delicious and painful friction between them. “Couldn’t stop staring at that gorgeous ass all day, fuck.” Peter didn’t see him looking, but to think that Tony had been sneaking glances at him all day left him a little dizzy.

“Oh, God,” he whimpered as Tony licked a stripe up his neck, his expert fingers working on unbuttoning Peter’s pants. He bit his lips nervously, he and Tony hadn’t really done much – after a very heated make out session in his car one day, Peter had to admit that he was a virgin and wasn’t ready for much more than what they were already doing. He thought that would be a deal breaker for the older teen, but to his surprise, Tony was very understanding. They had been taking it slow, at Peter’s pace, and everything they did felt amazing, Tony never pressured him for more.

The older teen lowered his pants, along with his boxers, down to his knees, and his hands quickly made their away around Peter’s body to grab his ass tightly, lifting him a few inches from the ground as he pulled him closer, Peter’s now exposed cock brushing against Tony’s jeans. He hissed in pain and pleasure, sinking his fingertips into his shoulders, mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut.

“Take yours off, too,” Peter pleaded, trying to reach down between them to unbutton the other teen’s pants, but Tony didn’t let him, pressing him harder against the door as he squeezed his ass cheeks and spread them apart, making Peter blush furiously yet again. “Tony!”

“Shh, relax, babe.” He smiled against his lips, before letting go of his ass to undo his own pants, lowering them with his boxers just like Peter’s. He wasted no time in bringing their hips back together, eliciting synchronized groans from them when their erections touched. Tony was bigger than him, his cock was tan with a light pink tip, and Peter couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be breached by it. He squeezed his eyes shut, moaning, when Tony grabbed both of their cocks in one hand, pumping them together, as the other one slid back around him to grab his ass.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered, bucking his hips forwards, trying to thrust into Tony’s fist, as they rutted messily against each other, cocks rubbing together, Tony’s thumb teasing their heads provocatively. “Tony, please, I’m close,” He admitted, embarrassed, and the older teen quickened his pumps, as his other hand slid towards Peter’s crack, until one finger reached his hole and started rubbing it vigorously without slipping in.

Peter lost it, vision going white as he came all over Tony’s hand and cock, his moans swallowed by Tony’s open mouth, as he, too, came undone, hips bucking against Peter’s a few times before he collapsed against him, panting. Peter allowed himself to enjoy that moment and held the other teen close, feeling his heartbeats against his own chest and his ragged breath on his neck.

It lasted for only a couple of minutes before Tony pulled away, kissing him once more. Peter reached for his backpack, searching for a pack of wet wipes that he started carrying around after he and Tony started to, well – see each other. Tony chuckled when he was offered the pack, but accepted it anyway. Peter took one for himself and, as he cleaned the mess that almost ruined his t-shirt, he tried to gather the courage to ask what he’d been meaning to ask for weeks.

“Do, uh – do you have a date to prom?” He asked quietly as Tony cleaned himself up. He didn’t even raise his gaze, just shook his head no.

“I’m not going to prom, it’s lame,” he answered as if it was obvious and Peter felt stupid, all of a sudden, because of course Tony would find prom lame, he should have seen it coming.

“Oh, yeah. Right,” he smiled awkwardly and the older teen finally looked up at him as he raised his pants and finished getting dressed. Peter hurried to put on his clothes as well, then put all the used wipes in his pockets to throw them away later.

“You’re going?”Tony raised a brow, amused, and Peter gulped and shrugged, crossing his arms as he stared at the floor.

“Uh – I, I’m still thinking, I guess. Uhm. Harry invited me to go with him, and MJ and Ned are going, so, I don’t know, maybe.“ Harry was in the Decathlon team with Peter and he had asked him to prom, but Peter panicked and told him he already had a date, so now he was fucked.

“Who the fuck is Harry?” Tony frowned, sounding a little angry, and Peter was taken aback by the sudden change of attitude.

“Uhm. Harry Osborn? He’s on the Decathlon team?” Tony’s face grew red with anger and Peter frowned, a little confused.

“That preppy asshole? Why would you go with him? He’s an idiot and he’ll try to get in your pants before the night is over.”

“Well, I think he’s nice.” Peter shrugged, facing Tony head on, and the older teen laughed incredulously, before stepping closer to Peter.

“He pretends to be nice, that’s what he does, then he’ll fuck you and tell the whole school about it, he’s a slut-shaming asshole.” Tony was practically in his face now and Peter dropped his gaze, a little nervous.

“I’m not gonna sleep with him, Tony, you know I – I’m, you know. I haven’t,” he answered quietly, blushing bright red, and the older teen sighed, calming down a bit. They were really close, chests almost touching, there really wasn’t much room in the closet.

“Look. I don’t want you to go with him, ok? Just – don’t. Please.” Peter raised his eyes at that, surprised by the plea, and he was met with Tony’s red cheeks, and that was the first time ever that he saw the boy blushing like that. He had no idea what was going on.

“But why?” He insisted and the older teen avoided his eyes, shaking head and shrugging.

“I’ll go with you.” He blurted out, and Peter almost fell backwards in surprise, blinking rapidly.

“Wh – what?”

“I know you don’t wanna be seen with me, I’m bad news and stuff,” Tony started and Peter’s eyes widened in shock.

“Wait – what?!” Tony didn’t even pay him any mind, he just kept going.

“I mean, you’re every teachers’ favorite, you have your smart friends, and everybody expects great things from you, so of course you wouldn’t wanna be seen with me, the problematic asshole who got expelled from three schools and who smokes pot in the parking lot, but just – consider coming with me, okay? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” He said all that with his eyes fixed on the ground, hands firmly buried inside his pockets, and Peter couldn’t even talk for a few seconds, long enough for Tony to raise his worried eyes. “Pete?”

“Wh – I thought – I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me,” He stammered, head spinning, trying to understand what was happening there, what Tony was saying.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I?” He frowned, confused, and Peter shrugged, cheeks growing pink again.

“Uhm, because you’re cool and I – I’m me?” He fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt and Tony gaped at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He threw his arms out, indignantly, and Peter bit his lower lip.

“It means I’m not handsome, or good at sports, or stylish, or rich, or – anything like your other – other dates.”

“That’s because you’re not like anyone else, you’re – Peter Fucking Parker. You’re a genius, you’re fucking gorgeous and you have a brilliant future ahead of you, why the fuck would I ever be embarrassed to be seen with you?” Tony seemed really confused by the notion as he approached Peter and held him by his warm cheeks. The younger teen was out of breath, looking up at Tony in a daze, still not sure that he didn’t fall asleep in the cafeteria and was dreaming the whole thing up. “So you’re not embarrassed of me either?” He asked doubtfully and Peter quickly shook his head, unable to say anything. “Then why the hell have we been meeting in closets and empty classrooms?”

“Well, to be fair, I don’t think we can do what we just did in the halls, you know,” Peter giggled nervously and Tony burst out laughing, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, pulling Peter to his chest. The younger teen went willingly, burying his face in the curve of his neck – it smelled of cigarettes and expensive aftershave.

“Yeah, I guess we could still hide here sometimes,” He conceded, pulling away from Peter once again to look into his eyes. “So, what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?”

“I thought you said it was lame?” Peter placed his hands on Tony’s chest and he was sure he could feel his wild heartbeats under his fingers. It made his heart flutter, to think he was nervous too.

“We’ll make it cool.” He gave him a crooked, confident smile, and Peter beamed, standing on his tiptoes to place a soft peck on his lips.

“I’d love to go with you.” Tony grinned at him.

“Here, put this on,” He took off his jacket and helped Peter into it. The younger teen felt dizzy when he was completely surrounded by his smell and his warmth; the jacket was way too big, the sleeves covered his hands, but it made him feel safe and protected, as if Tony was holding him, it made him smile like a moron. The older teen took Peter’s backpack and slung it over his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist as he reached for the doorknob. “Ready?”

“Yes.” He grinned, nodding, taking a deep breath when Tony opened the door. 

[sergeanttpoliteness]

idk if you’re taking requests or anything, if you aren’t ignore this, but if you are I would die for a classic, upside down spider-man kiss with the loml spider-noir. poor guy would probably be very surprised at first but suddenly its his favorite thing to do. thanks I love you and your work!!

AND➝ mayhaps…. a first kiss with noir? if u have time! 

sorry for answering so late nonnies! i feel so bad about that, i promise i wasn’t ignoring y’all. same goes to the few other requests i have in my inbox right now! 

——-

➹ inconvenient feelings➹ (spider-noir x reader)

word count: 2.5k

a/n: can you tell i had no idea what to call this lol. i didn’t edit either bc… oof. i’ve been struggling a lot with writer’s block (nothing new, honestly lmaoo) lately and someone close to me recently passed away and i haven’t quite… been able to wrap my head around it?? i don’t know, not to be a little bitch but this week consisted of a lot of school stuff, emotions, and anxiety so thanks @ the people who requested this bc i needed to write some wholesome stuff. also thx at my bestie for helping me out w ideas, ily broz. anyway, there’s some minimum ripeter x reader although it’s solely platonic! hope you all have a lovely week (:

taglist: @marvelousmorales

It’s not convenient. Convenient was that one person with the pretty smile whose eyes seemed to possess an affinity to him that one time at a jazz club, or the singer with the honey voice and smooth runs more soothing than the late night singing of a mother to her child. A poor goon who smooched his fist whilst it collided with his face could even fit the designation, really— but what mattered, the simple component they shared, was that all three were just a speck in a sea with no end; an eternal blue void with only more possibilities hiding in the pitch-black depths neither he nor the light’s fingertips could touch. They were safe. Uncomplicated.

Peter stared out the window, at a completely distinct world, far from a city in a vintage film: the ongoing the mechanical song of speeding cars, the newer and taller lit up buildings, the blinking golden lights, identical to a field of a thousand miniscule suns. This was not convenient. It’s… so different— like day and night, water and fire. This meant to swim out of the ocean he belonged to and reach for a foreign land, to run after a mere drop of water when a whole fucking body existed behind him. It’s not safe. It’s complicated.

Your sleepy eyes roamed the same page for the fifth time with no precise purpose, more disoriented than a newcomer in a large city until they traveled and spotted their true destination: Peter’s own sight deeply engulfed in the view outside, the twisting of his brows every now and then filling your mind with wonder and curiosity at what could possibly be running through that brain of his. You could’ve continued with the ogling like the damn creep you were (seriously, you gotta stop it with that, you told yourself), but you slipped and made a mistake— the most laughably absurd misstep— worse than trying to take a picture of a stranger and then, to your utmost terror, the flash going off— which wouldn’t have occurred in the first place if you’d paid your electricity bills on time. Your apartment wouldn’t have been plunged into darkness, and you wouldn’t have, without thinking, your head clearly not in its right place at the moment, slightly tilted your phone and directed your phone’s flashlight right at the side of his face. You quickly pulled the beam of light away, as if that would work; however, his gaze drifted to you. “Sorry.” You blurted out, acting casual and pretending to focus on the journal on your lap. “You were so quiet, I thought you had fallen asleep.” You lied.

“No, I’m awake.” He said, furrowing his brows to himself— of course you already knew that. You mumbled a small ‘good’, holding the notebook close to your face, like a child staring through the window of a pet shop at some puppies, shining the ‘smartphone’, he’d learned, over the pages. You bit your lip, your shoulders shaking with your surfacing laughter.

“Oh, man, this one’s so dumb.” You snickered before running your finger up the paper, clearing your throat. “October 8th, 1999. Today I came back from my camping trip with Peter, Ben, and May. We ate a lot of s'mores— Uncle Ben makes the best! We also told some scary ghost stories, and I even made Pete scream. It was awesome. You will not believe what happened!” You read the last sentence with a dramatic tone, similar to that of a terrible news headline from a sketchy website, making yourself more comfortable on the L shaped bench seat and leaning into Peter’s side.

Peter tensed at first, but slowly, he pushed himself to relax after you rested your head on his shoulder, a quiet voice in the back of his head speaking against his desires, echoing the terrifying thought that he could get used to this. “I don’t know, enlighten me: what happened?” He asked, amused. You lifted your finger, eyebrows raising gradually, building up the suspense. He waited, and waited, and waited, until, finally—

“I have to go eat dinner. I’ll tell you later.” You finished with an unhumorous voice and a poker face. Yet again, he awaited in silence, interested. Man, you took this suspense thing quite seriously— wait.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?!” He looked down at you and you nodded. “Oh, c'mon! You just gonna leave the reader hanging like that?”

You shrugged, wearing a shit-eating grin, loving his genuine disappointment as you flicked the page. “Sometimes that’s just the way it is.”

“Oh, what malarkey!” He laughed softly. You crinkled your nose— malarkey. What a dork.

You resumed scanning the barely discernible handwriting, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards. “Alright, this one does have an ending.” You sat up, rolling your shoulders back only to go back to your position of hunching over the journal. “April 3rd, 2000. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I forgot I had this journal. Something crazy happened.”

“The end.”

“Shut up.” You shushed him, shaking your head. “'I hung out with Peter today. We rode our bikes, had a race down the hill near my house, and I also got a butterfly to land on my finger. Man, I love insects!’ …and I still do.” You smiled and he glanced down at you, his mouth twitching. A peculiar glow in his chest grew, fueled him after he recognized that you felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with him; an insight on the stories that carved you into the person that you were today, the being that made every classy, pearly white grin and musical prodigy so boring, so undesirable.

You shuffled on your bum to turn and face Peter, continuing, “We came back home to play some more. We were sitting in front of the TV when, suddenly, he said my name, and like a normal person would, I looked at him…” You inclined forward, voice quieting, looking up at him.

“You won’t believe what happened.”

His eyes darted heavenward and he groaned. “Oh, lord.”

“He kissed me!” You cried out, with as much emotion that past you spilled onto the paper with the five exclamation marks and the three times you underlined the sentence. You slammed the notebook shut and let out a strangled clamor. “I still remember it very clearly. It was just a peck, but he fucking… smashed his mouth into mine, it hurt so much and my lip started bleeding and everything.” You giggled, abashed, rubbing your eyes.

Peter’s brows rose with surprise, pondering how an alternate seven-year-old version of him from another universe had more balls than him. He had to admit, though, the scene playing in his head was more entertaining than unfortunate. “And what’d you do?” He questioned, his mouth twitching.

“He was just curious and wanted to see what kissing someone was like, so we promised we wouldn’t talk about it ever again. He was so embarrassed, though, and felt so bad for making me bleed that he almost started crying.” You recalled, chuckling as you eyed the cursed diary one last time and placed it beside you. “What an idiot. I miss him.” You sighed, peering up at him, grinning. “What was your first kiss like, huh?”

It was comical, almost, the raging blush that trickled his face, the greyish tint screaming for the world’s attention. It was just a Peter Parker thing, you guessed: blushing like there was no tomorrow. “Uh, my first kiss?” You nodded. “Well… it happened when I was eighteen.”

You put the side of your head against the wall, eyes going round, your inquisitiveness close to that of a kid listening to a grandparent’s story. “Was it romantic?” You wanted to know everything: who the person was, the place, the context. Did he enjoy it? Did he make the move? And if so, then was there a chance that, maybe…

Unlike you, he did not have much interest in the subject; he stuttered, searching for a way to move on from the memory before he imploded. “I don’t, I don’t think anyone’s first kiss is romantic.”

You squinted at him, noticing his obvious attempt at dodging the question, but chose to spare him. Just for a few milliseconds, though. “Have you ever had… a perfect kiss?” You said, unsure of how to word such a silly question. He shook his head and you hummed, silently taking in a quick breath, your gaze moving to your right. “Have you thought about what you want it to be like?”

Should he say it? He wanted to. He really did. But he couldn’t, even if his eyes almost flickered down to your lips. “Who thinks about that?” He muttered. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he’d been guilty of having the thought slither into his mind once or twice— possibly more than just that. Perhaps it’d pestered his mind as of recent, like that damn small scratch on his glasses that won’t go away no matter how many times he tried to wipe it away as if that would even help. Perhaps it returned as you unconsciously licked your lips and raised your shoulder, a bashful grin growing on your face.

“I have, when I’m bored. An upside down kiss with a cute guy.” You admitted, your eyes narrowing afterward, only just now realizing how bizarre the idea was once you said it aloud. Your impatience throbbed in your head so badly you didn’t mind the embarrassment as much, though. You really were doing this, huh? “I think I found the cute guy.” You hinted, your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

He understood the insinuation, of course he did. But what better way to run from your feelings than close his trembling hand into a fist, pretend to be clueless, and act like an idiot?

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

Didn’t think he was so stupid, you grumbled in your head, masking your faint irritation. You pressed your lips together, sight on your cushions. “Someone I like quite a lot.” You vaguely said, voice distant. “Though I don’t think you’d understand— you’re not one to fall in love, no?”

It was half a joke but half a real question, one with solely one right answer you yearned to hear from him if you got lucky enough. Peter blinked nervously, fear burning in his stomach, clenching his insides as his tongue dared to break free from his control, from his cowardly spell. “Lately I’ve had someone in mind.” He breathed out, close to breaking out in a sweat. He watched how your eyes dimly lit up, hesitance impeding the light from fully glowing.

“Really? And who is this ‘someone’?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Tell me.”

“Not now.” He gulped. You pouted, begging with your eyes. “N-no.”

“Are you ever gonna make a move?”

Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, feeling dizzy just by thinking about it; the downfall of the relationship once the distance became too much, once the malaise with no cure finally rotted the adoration, infested the heart, decayed it. “No.” Same answer. Same bedeviled word that boomed in his head whenever his emotions were close to getting the best of him.

“Why haven’t you done it yet?” You whispered, not caring anymore about how obvious you were

being. He frowned. Why hadn’t he done it yet?

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?”

Why not? His own thoughts repeated, betraying him. The confusion unlatched the cage, released all the questions and doubts about his reasons and dread. They crowded his brain, rang in his ears. “It’s… it’d be too hard to keep the relationship alive.” He retold more to himself and the storm of interrogations than you.

Your brows snapped together, your own fear knocking on the door again. “Is it not worth it to try, though?” It’s what you’d told yourself: the antidote to unfreeze your limbs and wave goodbye at the concern hanging in there, because… was it not?

In the overwhelming haziness, he finally looked at you. It’s what he needed to come upon a realization, a truth he knew all along but crumbled and threw away. Everything hushed, one single, final phrase in the quiet of it all.

Convenient wasn’t what he wanted.

“It is.” He said under his breath.

You heard him, and your eyes twinkled. “Well, then make the move.”

He couldn’t help it anymore. His eyes found your lips.

“I will.”

You stared at each other for a moment, anticipation never more warming than right then as it fluttered in your chest. To your biggest disappointment, he broke eye contact and stood up. “Close your eyes for a moment.” He ordered, his face indistinguishable in the dark now that he was further away.

“Creepy, but okay.” You huffed, your eyelids fluttering shut. “You better not be running away right now, you’d break my poor ol’ heart.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not the case.” You heard him say. You trusted him, which could’ve been a terrible choice. The total silence that followed didn’t put you to ease at all, honestly. Maybe you annoyed him so much with your questions that he was about to murder you, and if that’s what was happening, you were quite sad, to say the least.

Your eyelids were itching to open and you lifted a brow, straining your ears to distinguish any sign of his presence. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re not gonna believe what’s about to happen.”

You snorted at his reference, but his voice was… oddly close. You opened your eyes, and— “Oh, fuck!” You yelped and jumped back in your seat. Damn right you weren’t gonna believe what was about to happen, for Peter dangled from the ceiling right in front of you, upside down.

“Is it too much of a strange idea? I was going to simply stick to the ceiling upside down, but then I thought… that’d be… worse.” He clumsily explained. You looked up at the web he hung from, laughing in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?” You repeated, but you weren’t mad— your large smile backed that up. You couldn’t figure out if it was a blush creeping up his face or if it was from the fact that he was upside down. Both, maybe.

“I’m making a move.”

You giggled, glad you confessed what you considered to be a perfect type of kiss to him or else you wouldn’t had witnessed how absolutely ridiculous he looked right now. “So you’re willing to help me check 'kissing someone upside down’ off my bucket list?” You smirked.

He grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”

You bit your lip, placing both hands on his head. “Alright, then.“ 

You leaned forward, the tip of your nose brushing against his chin. You softly kissed the area below his bottom lip to tease him, but he didn’t want to wait any longer. Not after so long. Quickly, he enclosed your own bottom lip with his mouth, lastly fully aware that inconvenient truly was magnificent.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

To Give Him The World, Chpt.8

Main Characters: Thor x Ellie (original female character)

Summary: Sunday for Ellie and Thor is a lazy day with Thor acquainting himself with the internet and reaching out to friends. Also, Thor thinks of his future. Master List is HERE if you need to catch up.

Warnings/ Content: nothing but fluff and plot folks

Word Count: 1.4k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I know this is a shorty chapter and yes, it IS the final chapter. No, I haven’t lost my mind it just happened this way. I like all the hopefulness in it though and I think you will too :)  The epilogue is going up immediately afterwards. Thanks for everyone who made it to the end with me! Love you all! XOXO - Ash

To Give Him The World, Chapter Eight

Eventually the need for caffeine drug Thor and Ellie out of the warmth of his bed and out into the world. Thor was less tense as they got their morning lattes from the cafe and picked up muffins to take back with them for breakfast. He stuck with the same latte as Ellie, wanting to wait until Monday when he could pick Marcus’ brain about the different options available. 

The delivery man with Thor’s order arrived shortly after breakfast and Thor was like a little boy on Christmas as he tore through all the boxes. Setting up his phone took no time at all but Thor realized he didn’t have anyone’s phone numbers. Hoping he still had an email saved from Pepper when she had sent everyone’s info to Peter Parker, Thor had Ellie help set up his laptop so he could check his email. Sure enough, it was saved in his inbox and Thor took his time keying in everyone’s phone numbers and email addresses into his contact list. 

“I think I’ll call my friend Steven. He used to be Captain America but now he’s quite old and retired.” Thor told Ellie while he brought up the contact info for him.

Ellie cringed looking at the clock, “That’s a great idea sweetheart, but where does Steven live? Remember, time zones are a thing here.” 

“Oh.” Thor’s face fell, disappointed he’d have to wait. “He lives in Brooklyn.” 

“So it’s about five in the morning where he is. Why don’t we wait a few hours and call him after you’re sure he’s awake.” 

“Yes, I suppose. Pepper and Bruce live in California, that’s even worse, isn’t it?”

“Three more hours behind, yeah. You’ll just have to call them later this afternoon, I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear from you.”  

Thor nodded, resigned that there was nothing he could do about the time difference. “Can we finish setting up my phone and then play Assassin's Creed?” 

“Absolutely. Let’s get into the app store and download a few games for you.” 

Ellie showed Thor what she had on her phone and made suggestions for what he might enjoy. It took a while setting it all up but they had nothing but time and Thor seemed genuinely interested in the concept of social media. He remembered the other avengers talking about things like Instagram and Twitter and decided to set up accounts with Ellie’s help so he could connect with them on there. Thor got a little lost on Instagram, sifting through the endless pictures his friends had posted of their lives. Steve posted pictures of dogs he met on his walks through the park, Sam posted lots of aerial views from his flights, Pepper posted pictures of Morgan and motivational memes she liked, Bruce mostly posted pictures of food and a few of his lab. It was enjoyable to see the world through their eyes, finally feeling like a part of it again.

Ellie had wanted to give Thor the world back and she succeeded. He was commenting on pictures and replying to tweets like a pro by the time they took a break for lunch. After a quick meal of sandwiches and chips Thor checked the time, deeming it late enough to try Steve. Ellie was washing up the dishes while Thor listened to the line ring, nervously waiting. 

“Hello?” a familiar voice said over the line. 

“Friend Steven!” Thor boomed with relief, “It’s Thor!”

“Thor, wow.” Steve was surprised but happy to hear from him. “Did you get a new phone?”

“A cell phone, my friend Ellie helped me set it up.” 

“That’s great, pal. Welcome to the twenty-first century.” 

Thor chuckled and carried on the conversation, asking about any new dogs Steve met at the park. Steve was even more surprised to learn Thor joined Instagram and the two chatted about how amazing technology could be at keeping people in touch. Ellie watched Thor’s animated expressions as he talked with his friend and she excused herself to go throw in a load of laundry, fighting back the tears prickling at her eyes. She was so happy for him, he deserved a chance for a better life and he seemed to be embracing it wholeheartedly. Who knew life could change so much in just a few days. 

Thor was still on the phone when Ellie found him in the living room where he had moved to in between calls. He was talking to Pepper about how the Avengers Training Initiative was going and she eventually caved to her daughter’s pleas in the background; passing the phone to Morgan so she could tell Uncle Thor all about her science fair project that won first prize. Thor chuckled and did his best to keep up with the science jargon that spilled so easily from the little girl. Morgan admitted that Uncle Bruce let her use his lab and helped just a little bit, but insisted she did most of it all by herself. Thor was beaming with pride when he got Pepper back on the line, so proud of the amazing little girl she and Tony had created. Pepper agreed she takes after Tony more and more every day. It was bittersweet talking about Tony but Thor managed. When he ended the call, promising to consider coming out to California for Christmas, he found Ellie for a long hug. The pain of loss was still sharp but he comforted himself in Ellie’s arms instead of alcohol. Finally he broke away, feeling a little more steady, and wanting to call Bruce next. 

Thor spent almost an hour on the phone with Bruce. There was something calming about talking to Bruce who knew exactly what Thor was going through in trying to cope with emotions that just seemed too big sometimes. Bruce promised to call Thor regularly now that he had his number and offered to be a sounding board for him if he needed one. Steve had made a similar offer and Thor realized his friends were still there for him even after his months of self imposed solitude. 

Ellie kept herself busy by checking her emails, playing her new puzzle game, and watching a little TV while Thor continued making his calls. He eventually had to plug his phone in, having worn the battery down when Sam taught him how to video call with someone. Sam was enthusiastic to say the least, grinning wide, and proud of Thor for “re-entering society”. Sam told Thor a little about his work at the VA and offered to send him links to some great books on dealing with loss and PTSD. Ellie was amused but encouraging when Thor asked for her help setting up an Amazon account to order the books Sam recommended. 

The sun had set long ago and Ellie was finishing up cooking dinner when Thor finally hung up his last call of the day. He had spoken to each and every one of his fellow Avengers over the course of the afternoon and felt more connected to the world than he had in years. He watched Ellie moving around the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner, so thankful she had come back into his life.

Thor came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her snug against him. Ellie let out a startled squeak but leaned back into his embrace. “Thank you.” he said, his voice rough with heartfelt meaning.

“For what?” she asked, unsure where his gratitude was coming from.

“You’ve given me the world. I was so lost for a very long time. I didn’t think I’d ever find my way back.” 

“You just needed to be ready, sweetheart. You are now, and look how far you’ve come in the last few days. This is all you, I just helped you remember that you could.” 

Thor struggled to accept her sentiment but did feel the beginnings of pride in himself for putting in so much effort to pull himself out of the pit he’d been hiding in. He expected to be more anxious knowing Ellie would be heading home in a few hours but armed with his new phone it seemed much more manageable. Thor realized he was actually making plans again, something he hadn’t done since before the Snap. He knew that on Monday he was going to go out and see Marcus about trying a new latte. On Tuesday Bruce was going to call him again to check in. Thor thought Wednesday might be a good day to try and take a walk around the community garden if he was up to it. If he managed that alright he was going to try and surprise Ellie at work with lunch on Friday. The outside world no longer seemed intimidating and Thor was eager to rejoin it. 

~ The End ~

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