#Anyway I just love Petey so much he makes me feel loved and happy

[pnuk-r0ck]

Now that my boyfriends asleep I can talk abt how much I love him >:)

[babyhatesreality]

What if maybe stucky had a day off for the first time in awhile and they planned on spending it w/ reader. She was really looking forward to it. But maybe one of the caregivers asked them to watch their little for the day last minute bc they were called away on a mission. Stucky accidentally ignores reader all day and just really hurts her feelings. Maybe they spoil the other little let them pick the movie and lunch etc. How would they make it up to reader?

-M

Hi M! First off, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH for being so patient. I'm so so sorry it has taken me so long to get to your amazing thoughts and questions. So let's dive in <3

What A Day

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names, language, anxiety, very upset Peter (but not at reader), angst, misunderstanding, frustrations, scolding, threat of punishment, tears, fluffity fluff fluff fluff, everything gets worked out in the end because I always need a happy ending.

A/N- not my best writing style, I'm sorry, words are hard right now. But I love you all and want to try to get these requests out for you all, so I hope you like it anyways.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

Today was the day! You were all set to spend the day together, just you and your daddies. You were so excited, you had been looking forward to it for the longest time. You all had tried to plan stuff before this, and something always came up. Every time. But not today! No way, not today!

Until it did.

Tony and Pepper received a very-last-minute summons to the White House to 'discuss some urgent matters' as Pepper put it or bail their asses out, as Tony put it. There was no way they could bring Peter, who was feeling extra little and clingy, so Steve, seeing their panic, volunteered to take him for the day, since you'd all planned on being at home anyways and the rest of the team were out on assignment.

You were a bit disappointed, but Petey was your best friend in the world, so this was going to be fun, right? Well......

When they dropped Peter off, he was definitely in a littler headspace than you had even seen him. He was crying hard in Steve's arms as Tony and Pepper left (both trying their hardest not to well up).

You tried to help, patting him on the leg and offering him Emma Bear or Pipsqueak to hold, but he didn't want either of them and tried to bat your hand away.

This shocked you a bit, but Bucky picked you up and whispered in your ear that Peter just needed a little extra attention right now. You nodded in understanding, and as soon as Bucky set you back down, you set off to your playroom, determined to find things to make him smile.

When you got back though- your arms full of toys and stuffies that you knew he'd like- you were a bit surprised to see both Steve and Bucky on the couch, side by side, comforting and holding Peter. You dropped your toys on the floor, wanting to come be a part of the cuddle party, but the noise scared Peter who started to cry again.

"Baby, you need to be more careful," Steve scolded very gently, knowing you hadn't done it on purpose. "I know you're trying to help, but Peter doesn't like loud noises right now. Please go put your toys back."

You started to protest that you had only picked out toys to be nice, but Bucky cut you off. "Go put 'em up, love, you heard Papa." It was a gentle tone, but you knew better than to try to argue.

Trying to be quiet, you carefully put them back slowly. But every time you came back to the room, you eyed your daddies meaningfully, hoping they'd ask you to be a part of the cuddle party, but they were so focused on keeping the little boy calm that they missed it entirely.

Once you were done, you quietly came over with Pipsqueak, holding him out to Peter, who took him, but turned his face back into Steve's chest. Feeling both frustrated and a little jealous, you said, "You s'posed to say 'tank you'." Peter just whined in reply.

This time, Steve looked at you sternly. "Baby, please don't upset Peter right now. He's feeling very little and needs quiet."

"But he didn't say tank you and you always say I gotta use my manners..."

Bucky picked you up before you caused Peter to start crying again, and started carrying you down the hallway to your playroom. "Listen up, angel, Peter is too young and upset to remember manners right now, and you're being loud when we've asked you to quiet down. Why don't you stay and play in here for a while until Peter is feeling better?" He set you down in the playroom and quickly shut the door before you had a chance to say anything.

You felt like you were being punished, even though you'd never get to stay in your playroom with all your toys when you were actually being punished. But you couldn't help but feel that way. Your daddies weren't spending any time with you now, and your bestie was treating you like you were mean, and it wasn't fair at all.

Bucky came to get you about an hour later for lunch. You were disappointed when you found that lunch was already made, because you loved it when you got to stir the mac and cheese. But when you were eating and Steve started telling Peter what a good job he'd done stirring, you got mad.

You shoved yourself off your chair and got exactly one step away before Bucky picked you up and plopped you back down. "You haven't been excused, little girl," he said a bit sharply, getting tired of your antics. You glowered as once again you were being asked to have manners when Peter didn't have to. Bucky made you sit there until all your lunch was eaten, which was well after Peter and Steve finished theirs and left to go watch a movie together.

You got even angrier when they picked a different movie than the one that you all were supposed to watch today, but you were still stuck in your dumb chair and couldn't do anything about it. Bucky had to threaten you with a time out and early bedtime before you finally finished eating. And once you did, he gave you a little talking-to about your attitude before taking your hand and bringing you over to the couch to watch the movie with them.

What you saw when you got there stopped you cold.

Steve had wrapped Peter up in your special yellow weighted blanket. Now, normally this wouldn't be a big deal, as you always wanted to share with your bestie, but this was YOUR special blanket for when you were feeling upset or overstimulated or needed comfort- and right now, you were definitely feeling all three.

"Dat's my special blanket," you said, pointing and mumbling. You didn't want to be loud or 'keep having an attitude', but this was just too much.

The look of disappointment in Steve's eyes hurt your heart. "Honey, we share in this house," he said, making you feel even worse. "You know that."

You couldn't stop the tears from overflowing at this point. "I alweady gave him my whole day!" you sobbed, before turning around and running to your room. You didn't slam your door- you'd only get in more trouble- but you pushed it mostly shut before diving into your stuffies, pulling Jellybean in close, and continuing to sob.

You heard a soft knock on your door a few moments later. "Baby, it's Daddy. May I come in please?" You only buried yourself deeper into your furry friends, afraid that Daddy was going to scold you again.

Bucky slowly opened the door, and his heart shattered at seeing you crying into all your stuffed animals. "I'm gonna come in, okay?" he added softly, stepping forward gently. If you really didn't want him in there, he would leave, but as you gave no indication one way or the other, he came in quietly and sat on the foot of your bed.

Once your tears and sobs slowed down, you risked a peek at Daddy in between Jellybean's soft fluffy ears. His face broke into a sad smile once he saw your red eyes. "Hey there, Trouble," he said gently. "Can Daddy hold you please?"

You didn't want another talking-to about your attitude, so you obediently pushed yourself up and crawled over to him. But when he pulled you onto his lap and cuddled you to his chest, like he did when he was comforting you, you suddenly realized that you weren't in trouble- that he really did want to just hold you. And the tears started all over again.

Bucky just held on, rocking you gently, rubbing your back, squeezing you tight when the tears turned into sobs, pressing soft kisses onto the top of your head. Once you cried yourself out, he plucked a tissue from the bedside table and held it to your face so you could blow. He mopped you up, still cuddling you all the while. "I'm really sorry you didn't get your day with us, Trouble," he said softly. "And I'm sorry that Papa and I were so focused on Peter and didn't see how upset you were. We weren't very nice to you today, were we?"

Sniffing mightily, you rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, resting your tired and aching head on Daddy's chest. "You was twying to help Petey. I sowwy I was bad and loud and mean," you mumbled.

"Baby, you were NOT bad or mean. You were loud, but that's just you- and we like you that way," Bucky said, finally grinning, which made you giggle. "I know that you were trying to help, and I'm sorry that I didn't have the patience to see that, and that we left you on your own today when we were trying to take care of Peter. So how about this? You and I can take some R&R together right now, just you and me, and then we can figure out everything else afterwards?"

Absolutely exhausted, you just nodded, falling asleep in Daddy's arms before he could even lay you down. And true to his word, he stayed with you for your whole nap, cuddling you and running his fingers through your hair.

After you all had naps, Peter was feeling much better, and the four of you played legos and dinosaurs in the living room until Tony and Pepper came home. It was a relief to Bucky and Steve, who had quietly worried that this was going to mess up Peter's and your friendship. But as always, after a good nap, things seemed brighter and you both were back to the giggling troublemakers you usually were, playing happily and noisily until Peter went home.

After you all had eaten supper, Papa cuddled you on his lap, apologizing too, and the three of you had a really good talk (with you still in younger space) about all of you feeling jealously, frustrations, and angry feelings, and being safe to calmly tell each other. They also helped work out some hand signals for you in case you went non-verbal or couldn't find the right words to tell them how you were feeling. You felt like a much happier baby after new ways to help you express yourself, and gleefully accepted Papa's cuddles all night (since Daddy had gotten them all to himself during nap time, he argued it was his turn).

The next day, Fury had blocked every single message to your daddies as well as access to your floor (barring emergency protocols, but ya know) making sure that you all truly had the whole day to yourselves. Daddy made your favorite cinnamon and sugar french toast for breakfast, which he fed to you bite by bite while you wiggled with energy.

The three of you went to your favorite quiet park out of the city, where you joyfully screamed down the slide, scrambled up the net ladder, giggled rocking back and forth on the bouncy animals, and had a contest with your daddies to see who could swing you the highest. THAT was the best.

You had a picnic lunch and had a blast bouncing back and forth between your daddies, insisting on feeding them blueberries one at a time. For some reason, that absolutely tickled you to no end, and you ended up laughing your head off the entire time. You fell asleep in your seat on the way home, and woke up in your bed. You found your daddies and the three of you drew pictures and colored together, then made a blanket fort in the living room for later.

Papa let you help him make dinner, and while it wasn't stirring- mac-and-cheese, it was still really fun. And then they both surprised you with being able to make a batch of your favorites- chocolate chip cookies! Right after the cookies cooled just enough, you FINALLY got to watch your movie, snuggled in between the two of them in your blanket fort, munching on the delicious treats.

Papa gave you a bath, letting you pick out both bubbles and a bath bomb, and Daddy put on your lotion and helped you pick out jammies and your nighttime books. You fell asleep in the crook of Bucky's arm, safe and warm, the three of you now more bonded than ever.

[meganslife]

Pen pals - p. parker (part two)

read part one here !!

pairing; TASM! Peter Parker x Fem!reader

summary: after peter and you exchange phone numbers, he finds himself yearning for you. it only gets worse after a long night of you partying. but drunk words are sober thoughts, right?

warnings: none!:3

a/n: i love love love writing this series so the second part has come very quickly. anyway, make sure to read the first part if you haven’t already!! happy reading!!<3

Peter doesn’t know when or how, but he became addicted to listening to you talk. You had so many things to say- so many beautiful words coming out of your equally beautiful mouth. He couldn’t believe you had such a soothing voice, not that he expected anything less.

God, he was down horrendously.

You both were on Facetime. Peter listens to you talk about your friends as you get ready for a long night of partying. He never thought you’d like parties, but he doesn’t care that he was wrong. He likes that calling you every day gives him more to know about you. He figures that you get outside more once it gets warmer. Spring was blooming. You and Peter had been talking every day on the phone for three months.

“Yeah, and like, Anna is great and all, but she’s so mean!” You rant, finishing up your makeup. Peter nods, watching in awe. Do you even know how pretty you are? “Peter, are you listening?”

“What?” Peter snaps out of his thoughts, “Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can let you go. It’s like, 11 pm over there,” You pick up your phone, almost saying goodbye before Peter interjects.

“No, don’t hang up,” He says quickly, “I like watching you get ready. It makes me feel closer to you.”

Peter can see your cheeks turn pink. You’re embarrassed, and he could cry in your lap with how much his heart is fluttering.

“Okay,” You smile, positioning your phone so Peter could see your outfit. “What do you think?”

Peter wants to fly to Seattle and worship the ground you walk on like right now.

“You look lovely,” He grins from ear to ear. “Is that a new top? It’s fun.”

It was a basic tube top. Nothing special to you, but very special to Peter. He knew that you got insecure, so the fact that you were willing to wear this while going out made his heart feel full.

“Yeah,” You nod, giddy. “Maria got it for me.”

Peter and you talk for a little while longer. He wants it to last forever. But, eventually, you say you have to go.

“Text me when you get home?” Peter asks.

“Sure, but you’ll be sleeping,” You tease.

He scoffs, “And you’ll be drunk. I’m staying up for you.”

“Whatever,” You laugh. “Bye, Pete!”

“Bye, Y/N.”

Peter holds his phone to his chest once you hang up.

One day, he’ll tell you.

~

Peter wakes up at three in the morning to his phone blowing up. He groans, putting on his glasses and squinting at his phone in a poor attempt to adjust to the brightness.

He sees that you’ve been texting him and calling him. To this, he smiles. He forgot to stay up for you. Oops.

Your texts are furious and poorly written. You’ve definitely been drinking.

‘PETER BENJAMIN PARKER’

‘PETEY’

‘Oh my god pleas ansswr.’

*3 missed calls*

‘Pls pete i’m drunk and desperate’

‘Go to bed and drink some water, babe.’

‘Hehehe babe. You’re so cute.’

‘Call me? Ppleas? I miss uou.’

Peter sighs, face red and burning hot.

When he calls, you answer not even one ring after he calls.

“Did you get home safe?” Peter immediately asks.

“Jeez. Not even a hello?”

“I have priorities.”

“I got home fine, cutie,” You giggle.

Peter thinks you’ll be the death of him.

“How much did you drink, bug?” He sighs, “You should go to bed. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

You groan over the line, and Peter laughs. He wishes he was with you in person to see this.

“You’re so boring, Pete! I have priorities too, you know.” You insist. Peter is imagining your dramatic pout.

“Oh yeah? What are they?”

“Go to Queens and hug you.”

Peter wants to cry. He knows you’re very drunk, but he read somewhere that drunk words are sober thoughts. He really hopes that you’re being genuine. Maybe you think about him as much as he thinks about you.

“We… We can talk about this another time,” Peter suggests. “Sometime when you’re sober.”

“Okay,” You say, accepting defeat. “My head hurts. I’m gonna go.”

“Alright,” Peter manages a smile, even though you can’t see it. “Goodnight, honey. Sleep well.”

“Bye! See you soon!”

See you soon.

See you soon.

See you soon.

In his dreams.

— read about me and find my masterlist here <3

[kikidoesfanfic]

Peter Parker's Guide to Romance

KikiDoesFanfic on ao3

James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark/Winter Soldier, Winter Soldier/Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Precious Peter Parker, Matchmaker Peter Parker, Not Clint Barton Friendly, Not Wanda Maximoff Friendly, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, They jaeger pilot the same body, POV Multiple, Insecure Tony Stark, Misunderstandings, Fluff Rating: T Marvel Cinematic Universe No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 20,481 Chapters: 5/5 On Ao3

Summary:

Upon coming to Mr Stark for advice about his own romance woes, Peter realises something he hadn't paid much attention to before, Mr Stark hasn't dated in ages.

He definitely deserves his own special someone, and Peter knows just the Sergeants for the job.

Time for Peter to play matchmaker. Preview below the cut

"But she acts like she hates me!" Peter despairs, hands raising in the air in spite of the tools in them. They're working on one of Mr Stark's sports cars, it's so cool. Peter doesn't think he'll ever bother having a car in the middle of NYC, but getting to work on Mr Stark's is enough to make him consider it, he even said Peter could borrow this one some time if he helps tune it up.

"Kid I've seen her with you, she's teasing, she likes messing with people, she's at least a friend." He slides out from under the car to point at Peter with a wrench, "she does act like she hates everyone, but she also acts like she hates you and Ned the least, do with that what you will."

"What if I like her as more than a friend?" Peter asks, leaning under the hood of the car to hide his now burning cheeks. It's not that he's embarrassed about liking her, he thinks, it's that he hasn't really had anyone to talk to about this, Aunt May is not the best at love life pep talks. He knows Mr Stark has been in the tabloids as more of a... playboy? But he's definitely learnt since becoming Spiderman that you can't trust everything you read in a gossip rag, plus he hasn't seen Mr Stark date anyone since Miss Potts anyway.

"Well, first you decide what you'd like to happen, do you want to just date her? Do you want to be friends? Do you want a relationship?" And okay, that's a good point, what if he dates her and it doesn't work out and they can't be friends anymore? Would he make Ned have to split time between them to keep both his friends? Is that selfish? But what if it works out and they stay together? They are in highschool though... how many people end up together forever with their highschool sweetheart? Peter doesn't know anyone that has.

"Geez kid don't over think it, I can hear your brain whirring from down here." He wheels out again, hand feeling around for a tool while he looks at Peter. "Sometimes it's worth it even if things don't work out, the experience, the memories, learning about yourself. Sometimes you can still be friends even if you break up, look at me and Pep, we still get along even if it took some awkwardness to get there in the beginning."

He finally looks down to the floor at the now scattered tools, sighing exasperatedly with a smile on his face.

"Butterfingers, daddy needs that, you have your own tools to play with," he looks back to Peter, stage whispers "I think he wants to be an engineer when he grows up too."

Butterfingers trills a few beeps that Peter thinks sound like agreement as he returns the tool, and Mr Stark pats the side of his body fondly.

"If you like her, you like her Petey, and if you think the chance of it working out would make you happy, what's the harm? She doesn't seem like the kind of person to hold a grudge," Peter gives him an incredulous look, "or not over something like that anyway. Just, don't miss your chance kiddo, it's better to try and know either way, than to look back at what ifs with regret."

He looks wistful as he says it, staring off at a bench against the wall absent-mindedly, and Peter thinks he looks kind of... sad?

"Yeah, you're right Mr Stark." He thinks a moment, with Liz things sort of just happened, but with MJ maybe he should try and flirt? A little? See how she reacts. Problem being he hasn't really done that on purpose before.

"How do I show her that I like her without just saying that I like her? Just blurting it out seems," he pulls a face.

"Not a dramatic love confession kind of guy? It's okay you can work with that, though you'll have to tell her with words eventually, relationships, communication, all that jazz." He waves a hand in a gesture Peter assumes is supposed to encompass said jazz. "That is if she doesn't decide to do it for you, she seems like she would enjoy that."

And yeah, that's probably a fair assessment, she totally would. They talk a while longer, Mr Stark having great advice about showing someone you care that he eagerly notes down, ideas already forming for school the next day.

"And, if you want to give a gift make sure it's something they want. Going over the top for going over the top's sake is less appreciated by most." He has a wry, self depreciating grin on his face as he says it, likely a lesson learned by experience then. "You know her, Kid, you got this and if she doesn't feel the same that's okay too."

Peter thanks him, and while he's thinking of something else to ask Friday's voice chimes in.

"Boss, Mr Barton is quite insistent that he speak to you about an issue with his equipment, I told him that you are busy, but he is refusing to vacate. Would you prefer for me to lock down the lab, or alert someone to have him removed?" Mr Stark sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a frustrated moment before pushing himself up from the floor.

"It's alright, I'll take care of it this time, I'll just get harrassed in the hallway otherwise." He's halfway to the door, smoothing his shirt and running a hand through his hair to look less ragged, when he turns back to Peter. "Sorry this should just take a moment, I'll be right back."

He heads out, lab doors closing behind him and Peter huffs. Too many people are demanding of Mr Stark's time these days, he needs a break, a nice night off with someone who just wants his company... like a date? He should definitely go on a date, and not just because Peter is feeling quite enthused about romance right now. Or okay, maybe a little... but also Mr Stark really deserves to have someone special in his life, someone who cares about him, and will look out for his best interests, and make sure he relaxes and takes a night off when Peter's not around to pester him into it.

"But she acts like she hates me!" Peter despairs, hands raising in the air in spite of the tools in them. They're working on one of Mr Stark's sports cars, it's so cool. Peter doesn't think he'll ever bother having a car in the middle of NYC, but getting to work on Mr Stark's is enough to make him consider it, he even said Peter could borrow this one some time if he helps tune it up.

"Kid I've seen her with you, she's teasing, she likes messing with people, she's at least a friend." He slides out from under the car to point at Peter with a wrench, "she does act like she hates everyone, but she also acts like she hates you and Ned the least, do with that what you will."

"What if I like her as more than a friend?" Peter asks, leaning under the hood of the car to hide his now burning cheeks. It's not that he's embarrassed about liking her, he thinks, it's that he hasn't really had anyone to talk to about this, Aunt May is not the best at love life pep talks. He knows Mr Stark has been in the tabloids as more of a... playboy? But he's definitely learnt since becoming Spiderman that you can't trust everything you read in a gossip rag, plus he hasn't seen Mr Stark date anyone since Miss Potts anyway.

"Well, first you decide what you'd like to happen, do you want to just date her? Do you want to be friends? Do you want a relationship?" And okay, that's a good point, what if he dates her and it doesn't work out and they can't be friends anymore? Would he make Ned have to split time between them to keep both his friends? Is that selfish? But what if it works out and they stay together? They are in highschool though... how many people end up together forever with their highschool sweetheart? Peter doesn't know anyone that has.

"Geez kid don't over think it, I can hear your brain whirring from down here." He wheels out again, hand feeling around for a tool while he looks at Peter. "Sometimes it's worth it even if things don't work out, the experience, the memories, learning about yourself. Sometimes you can still be friends even if you break up, look at me and Pep, we still get along even if it took some awkwardness to get there in the beginning."

He finally looks down to the floor at the now scattered tools, sighing exasperatedly with a smile on his face.

"Butterfingers, daddy needs that, you have your own tools to play with," he looks back to Peter, stage whispers "I think he wants to be an engineer when he grows up too."

Butterfingers trills a few beeps that Peter thinks sound like agreement as he returns the tool, and Mr Stark pats the side of his body fondly.

"If you like her, you like her Petey, and if you think the chance of it working out would make you happy, what's the harm? She doesn't seem like the kind of person to hold a grudge," Peter gives him an incredulous look, "or not over something like that anyway. Just, don't miss your chance kiddo, it's better to try and know either way, than to look back at what ifs with regret."

He looks wistful as he says it, staring off at a bench against the wall absent-mindedly, and Peter thinks he looks kind of... sad?

"Yeah, you're right Mr Stark." He thinks a moment, with Liz things sort of just happened, but with MJ maybe he should try and flirt? A little? See how she reacts. Problem being he hasn't really done that on purpose before.

"How do I show her that I like her without just saying that I like her? Just blurting it out seems," he pulls a face.

"Not a dramatic love confession kind of guy? It's okay you can work with that, though you'll have to tell her with words eventually, relationships, communication, all that jazz." He waves a hand in a gesture Peter assumes is supposed to encompass said jazz. "That is if she doesn't decide to do it for you, she seems like she would enjoy that."

And yeah, that's probably a fair assessment, she totally would. They talk a while longer, Mr Stark having great advice about showing someone you care that he eagerly notes down, ideas already forming for school the next day.

"And, if you want to give a gift make sure it's something they want. Going over the top for going over the top's sake is less appreciated by most." He has a wry, self depreciating grin on his face as he says it, likely a lesson learned by experience then. "You know her, Kid, you got this and if she doesn't feel the same that's okay too."

Peter thanks him, and while he's thinking of something else to ask Friday's voice chimes in.

"Boss, Mr Barton is quite insistent that he speak to you about an issue with his equipment, I told him that you are busy, but he is refusing to vacate. Would you prefer for me to lock down the lab, or alert someone to have him removed?" Mr Stark sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a frustrated moment before pushing himself up from the floor.

"It's alright, I'll take care of it this time, I'll just get harrassed in the hallway otherwise." He's halfway to the door, smoothing his shirt and running a hand through his hair to look less ragged, when he turns back to Peter. "Sorry this should just take a moment, I'll be right back."

He heads out, lab doors closing behind him and Peter huffs. Too many people are demanding of Mr Stark's time these days, he needs a break, a nice night off with someone who just wants his company... like a date? He should definitely go on a date, and not just because Peter is feeling quite enthused about romance right now. Or okay, maybe a little... but also Mr Stark really deserves to have someone special in his life, someone who cares about him, and will look out for his best interests, and make sure he relaxes and takes a night off when Peter's not around to pester him into it.

On Ao3

[bitchinbarzal]

https://www.tumblr.com/bitchinbarzal/728184319426871296/this-has-put-me-in-a-petey-mood-can-we-talk-ab-his

okay perfect! you know how like elias basically says he doesn’t want the kid/isn’t ready for it or whatever (at least i hope this is the same au as your fics you did for that bc that would be embarrassing if i was wrong) BUT ANYWAY im just thinking ab during the pregnancy and when the baby is finally here, i feel like he’s constantly overcompensating for the mistakes he made very early on and mom just finally has to sit him down and say that him buying all these things or gifting all these things doesn’t change what he said and did but that she’s looking past that and moving forward. and he just kinda has to sit and realize that him being there and showing up is enough for right now and he doesn’t need to gift mom or baby all these extravagant things

No because you’re so right!!

Elias is always trying to overcompensate from the start of the pregnancy, he immediately bought a new house for you guys ‘because of the baby’ and bought you a new car, your little ford was replaced with a Mercedes CLA because ‘it’s a better mom car’ and there was gifts always.

Then when Astrid was born you noticed it a lot more, he bought her the most expensive stuff, so much stuff, it’s all designer, he buys like quadruple what she needs until you finally sit him down.

“Baby, she doesn’t need all of this stuff”

“I just I think maybe if she has this stuff and then she is happy, I made her happy-“

“Elias you are her father! You make her happy just because you exist, we could live in a cardboard box and she’d be happy to wake up next to you still. Buying things doesn’t change what happened back then, but baby we are past that and I, nor Astrid will hold this against you ever”

“I just love her so much”

“Then show her how much, don’t buy her love back”

[msmargaretmurry]

Anything you can tell us about your eldest daughter Quinn Hughes fic idea? That sounds amazing and I’d love to hear a little about what sort of ideas and thoughts you have floating around for it!

anon, i am so tickled that you've asked. i am unfortunately one of those people who refuses to reveal TOO much about a story before i'm done with it (i feel like i was like 50k into head above water and my friends were still like, so uh, are you gonna tell us... what it's about......) BUT i am happy to share a few little thoughts and feelings! under the cut, to spare y'all's dashboards.

i must say my off the bat that my eldest daughter quinn concept was fully inspired by ao3 user bropunzeling's girl!leon extended universe. firstly it's just great and secondly i was super enamored with her worldbuilding around women in the nhl and so i am uhhh borrowing heavily on that front, thanks jess :)

the main thought that initially sent me spiraling on this concept was thinking how the mama hughes teaching her boys hockey thing could be flipped in a fun way to be like, maybe the nhl was wasn't quite letting women in yet in ellen's day even though she might have been good enough, so quinn "mama's girl" hughes has strong feelings about having the kind of career her mom deserved. i then saw this clip of baby ellen telling the dallas local news that she wanted to play pro hockey and i DID have so many feelings i had to lie down.

i also like thinking about how eldest sister quinn would still be super protective of and proud of her little brothers but also have complicated feelings about how much easier it is for them to navigate a sport and a world designed for them, whereas it only begrudgingly made space for her. the girl!quinn in my head has a complicated relationship with femininity and struggles with figuring out how she wants to be vs how she feels like she needs to be to make it as a girl in the nhl, and because of this she has a strict "no sex/romance with fellow hockey players" rule but unfortunately for her she IS going to eventually fall ass over tits for brady tkachuk and is going to have a minor breakdown the first time she thinks she might want to kiss him. terrible!! that's her best friend!!! he's not even hot!!!!!

also i just think the image of her and girl!petey swiping through dating apps and judging the men of various nhl cities together is very funny 😌

anyway i've got like 15k of it in a gdoc that i have been kind of stuck on but i actually did a little reworking of the story structure tonight and so i think it might work better now?? only time will tell!!

[pwblogarchive]

January 2005

January 2, 2005

the dog update. so alot of people seemed concerned about marley and that made me feel better. he puked every five minutes for a day or so and then went to the emergency vet. there they injected him with saline solution that made his back feel all bumpy when you petted him. now he's doing better. thank god i don't have to punch anyone cause i'm pretty little and don't like to get punched back. marley is doing pretty good now too. he's not bumpy anymore so he's back to his handsome self. all the chick dogs think he's super hot, trust me. my other dog pandora tries to hump him all the time. it's pretty gross you know. but you can't fault them for being in love. like that one disney movie lady and the tramp.

i got a new years wish about you.

- petey

January 6, 2005

chicago to los angeles survival guide: uncrustables, XOskeletons, capri suns, seinfeld seasons 1 and 2, the weakerthans, etc.

how about how the transformers was supposed to take place in 2005.

now it's here. where are all the fucking autobots.

love peter

- petey

January 7, 2005

“you are the tiny in my heart”

i haven't "blogged" anything in here in quite some time. i guess first off i must adress that i had loads of fun on our last five day stint with the midtowners, acadameisters and the gym class-o-sauruses. seeing all the people there at the shows caring about us and being totally rad and cool and awesome makes me smile from the left to right. no half smiles here. it was an awesome time for sure. anyways, im home now. it snowed tons the past few days here. i had to shovel at least a foot of snow off my car yesterday just so i could get groceries. i framed a star wars poster for my room the other day. im really happy with how it turned out. nothing else really going on. just been spending time with some friends and seeing my family. ive seen my dog a little. he's big. quite large in fact. im sorry this is a short and crappy entry but i have to go to the bathroom so bad. ill make a better one later. i promise.

January 9, 2005

“wake the dead”

i promised a more well written journal entry, and one shall be written, right now. first off, ive been home since decemeber 29th and i must say i'm lovin' it, much like the people who gorge themselves with the royal with cheese while shooting hoops. but in all seriousness, ive been hanging with my friends, seeing my family, watching my dog pee on the carpet, and it's all good. so i ate a lot today. sue me. that's right, i said sue me. just like you used to in 5th grade. and you know what? i'm still freakin hungry. i'm sitting here at my apartment, it's quarter after 5 am, theres a scary looking corpse-like women on tv telling me how to discover free money, and i have to be up in less than 6 hours for a fun filled trip with some of my friends to the field museum, or as it should be called, the natural history museum. i'm going to touch dino bones. i cleaned out my car a few days ago to find nothing of interest except i guess i spilled some coke everywhere and forgot to clean it up and my car was very syrupy. ew. funny thing happened today, i was leaving to go to my friend's place to play some card games and enjoy spicey chinese food that made my tounge cry, when this awesome homeless couple was hanging out by the garbage can in back of my place. they were really cool. they gave me one of their beers which i think i left in my friends fridge, and we talked about my car for a while because they were suprised someone had a black toyota rather than a white or red one. they assumed i had a black car because i wore dark clothes. they also thought i was a "computer whiz". i just nodded. they were really nice. i felt bad i didn't have money to give them. i also felt bad taking a beer, but i wouldve felt just as bad turning it down. it was kind of awkward. but none the less very pleasent folks. so im putting some cds on my computer to put on my ipod. im gonna continue on that path and then head to the resting place. nights.

currently enjoying:

music:

m83-dead cities, red seas and lost ghosts

the dears-no cities left

nick drake-pink moon

darkest hour-hidden hands of a saddist nation

(sorry, nothing new)

dvd:

the micheal gondry. chris cunningham, spike jonze dvd set

south park season 3

garden state

books:

none my friend

other:

-cooking steak

-putting up my empire strikes back poster after i framed it

-playing apple to apple

-having ipod parties with my one friend who would hit me in the goods if i said his/her name, so we'll just call this person 'sanders'

January 10, 2005

“its funny the way people only say stuff like "you could never be replaced" right before they replace you”

the sky is out again. i let myself get drawn into airing the dirty laundry in this funny place we call the internet again. and as much as i say "never again"- i am sure it will happen. once again proof that i am just as flawed, if not more, than anyone else. that being said. i feel happy right now- okay, like sunny and 75 degrees. thanks for that. we've got all kinds of plans that no one knows about. go listen to the new academy is song over at www.purevolume.com/theacademyis

what it looks like from the valley: Its been pouring rain here for four days straight- this isn’t a metaphor for a thing, It’s just how it goes. Even the sewers are sick of it- they’re spitting water back out. the city’s in a suspicious green light not quite haunted but definitely considering it. The boarded up windows aren’t for keeping anything out, they’re for keeping secrets like treasures inside. The basement window is cracked like a spiders web only without the queen in the middle. I pull it up and slip inside. Breathe in a hundred years of disappointment in the form of dust and water stained paper. These places are never quite like in dreams or movies but they are gold none the less. What the fuck could a kid like me ever know about LOnelyS ANGELES. I just want you to know the only reason I ever had double standards is because I cant stand the thought of just one of anything, it just feels so lonely. Pull the chain on a light that doesn’t work- pretty much that sums it up. Climb creaking stairs to rooms that used to be alive. The sunlight cuts in green-white between boards on the windows. We’re not getting out of this one. Its times like this that feel safe to be all alone. Because its my choice. I am the boarded up windows. I am the old man asleep on the porch across the street, dreaming in black and white. take a screwdriver out to fix all the bad habits that I had foolishly broken in anger- There is a chest in the corner. I crack it open and it breathes deep like it has come back to life. i read "There are two sides to digging up the past- pros: you remember things you had forgotten about, cons: you remember things you had forgotten about". Sit here on the floor barely breathing in all the dust hanging in the air like gray and brown stars. Think about the way none of these stories are finished ever because that’s how I am. I cant close the door on a thing. I just sit back in the cut and wait to be called out. never putting down the last period. Never signing off.

you feel like a new sweater on the first day of school- perfect but nervous-and tonight is just off of rocket sHIPS.

January 11, 2005

so we heard that the fob xmas cards from the tour are being sold on ebay. we think that is bullshit. they were always meant to be free for our fans and friends. we have some left so if you send a self addressed stamped envelope to korean tom cruise he will send you one. head over to his livejournal for that. www.livejournal.com/~asiandan

do not pay for them online! 

p.s. today i told patrick he needed to turn down the patitude.

- petey

January 12, 2005

ive got my stitches stitched, ive got my fixes fixed

so an actual update. so pretty much our dates consist of: i dream. i wake up at around 10 and watch lifetime movies for an hour. then i yell into patrick's room cause i am pretty much his mom out here. we then get into the car, not talking because we're both kind of grumpy in the morning. luckily the oldies station is badass out here and we become best buds again when we sing along to UB40's "i can't help falling in love..." and tony bennet's "it's not unusual" or whatever it's called. the car pretty much becomes this sweet vegas lounge. when we get to the studio, i go right to computer and pretend to work on lyrics but pretty much just play this game called runescape where i get to kill goblins and barbarian women. patrick goes and works on guitar. we eat deltaco which is like taco bell only better (if thats even possible). we then go and work on vocals whcih mostly just consists of me and patrick making fun of eachother and doing imitations of eachotherback and forth. we have some cool guests on the record, some suprises. one is flying in from chicago tommorrow, we are pretty excited. we finished a song today called "my name is david ruffin and these are the temptations"- you either get it or you don't. the record is gonna be called: from under the cork tree. again, it refers to something we think is pretty amazing. i need to get back to eating burritos and killing goblins.

peter

January 13, 2005

“bass boost”

my friend drew and i are sitting here on seperate computers. im typing a lot and drew is messing with his ipod. i got the newest mos def cd finally and i love it. i also got the todd barry cd which comes with a dvd. its extremely hilarious. on top of that, i rewarded myself with season one of x-files. not much else to report. all i have is jibberish. we both know it. im sure you feel the same way, but unfortunatly you are hungry for more words and i have the ability to feed them to you spoonful by spoonful. im worried im getting lazy. ive been sitting around and thinking about it, i recently finished doing my part of the record, and we did our 5 day tour, and that was all amazing. by the way, someone asked on our messageboard (yes i read it), what me and andy are doing in the studio. we finished tracking our stuff and are at home playing eachother in nhl 2005. anyway,now i have nothing to do, and thats cool for a while, but now im extra lazy. i mean, ive been sleeping until 5pm soley because i wouldnt know what to do if i woke up any earlier than that, so i stay up extra late so i sleep extra late. thats gonna fuck me over soon. i am excited to go out to la again, even if its for a few days. that should be nice. at least the weather will be a redeeming quality compared to the current downpour chicago is enduring. i dunno, im not bored, just worried im getting into a habit of laziness. i hope not. im gonna go to bed in 4 hours. bye!

January 14, 2005

i cant stop/stand myself

new photos and love

January 16, 2005

“in a world of sluts i keep the wet dream alive”

sorry the lj is over for now. i read everything you liked/disliked about yourselves so i feel like it went out really well. thank you for sharing that with me. though towards the end there was too much fighting and ridiculous stuff being said- including calling my friends sluts and all. i can'[t control anonymous posters except by deleting the entire thing- and you've heard it before you can say whatever you want about me but as soon as it involves my friends, i wont deal with it. it's just not what i want to read- instead i am going to read: the stranger by Camus- i'd recommend it to you. on our messageboard recommend one to me and then go outside and play in the sun or the snow depending on where you live.

cause you aint got nobody and i aint got nobody either- so lets be alone together.

January 17, 2005

“namedropper namefucker”

on my daily quest to find idiocy in human nature, i have come to a final conclusion: that many people out there are just vegetables and do not take the time to think or learn, but rather to repeat hackneyed concepts and thoughts that they have heard from a much wiser being. and usually these versions of what they have heard are botched and have been through the telephone game so many times that by the time they repeat them themselves, they come out usually as fart noises. i guess im just in a bad mood. but the only things in life i find to be genious are george lucas, jrr tolkien, morrissey and david cross. and if you think the new star wars movies suck, why don't you try and come up with different worlds, a complete history, and array of creatures and characters, and everything else it takes to make such an elaborate world that star wars is. im sick of people hating on phantom menace and attack of the clones. i cant wait until revenge of the sith comes out so everyone watches and just gets the shit knocked out of them. seriously, if the force and lightsabers arent good enough for you, then you seriously need to re-evaluate your life. anyways, i love you all and this is has nothing to do with you. it just has to do with the haters and the half-glass empty assholes who want to make the world a bummer.

January 19, 2005

“your lack of faith is disturbing”

if anyone is complaing about the "corny" level of star wars episode 1 and 2, watch episode 4,5 and 6 and try to tell me mark hamill wasn't pretty much the cheesiest dude on earth. plus, let me relay this harrison ford/carey fischer conversation at the end of empire strikes back that even though it's cool, harkens back to the essence of cheese: leia "i love you", han, "i know". i rest my case friends. cgi's aside. and no one is arguing that jar jar was awesome, but no one ever brings up the gay droid marriage between c3p0 and r2d2. im not trying to compare jar jar, but just think about it. take care!

January 20, 2005

“more…”

im quite bored and im going to continue with this. this is in response to our beloved message board. first off, someone mentioned that the original star wars weren't corny at the time of their release. just because something is corny doesn't mean it isn't good. original trilogy was delightfully corny by past and present standards. talk to my parents, they saw all three in the theaters and will tell you the same. second, qui-gon jinn was totally undeveloped and one of my least favorite jedi to grace the films. hayden as anakin rules cause he's super pissed off and he's totally gonna flip out in episode three. look at his huge flip out in episode two: when he went on a tusken raider massacre. that was excellent. anyways, i cant wait for lightsaber technology. sign me up for the testing. cut my arms off, i just want to see that thing in action. am i a big enough nerd to sit down and figure out the star wars theme? yes. well, most of it. i could probably play it with my vader mask but that thing is a bit to small for my head and makes my face sweaty. my big nose makes it hard to wear. oh, and thank you liz for the info on darth tater. im gonna have to pick that guy up as soon as it hits. its darling. i do lots of bad lightsaber and spaceship noises when im bored or when i space out (no pun intended). i have a list of star wars things that ive been compiling in my head for everyone who likes star wars, minus the obvious ones like watching the trilogy:

-check out imdb.com and search under the star wars movies and check out the trivia, really interesting stuff about people they were going to originally cast, original versions of charcaters and such

-if you're into video games, most of the star wars games out there are really lackluster but there are a few that i love. both knights of the old republic and knights of the old republic II: the sith lords are totally amazing. they are sort of prequels to everything that happens in the first three episodes of star wars and there are no familiar characters whatsoever. those are probably some of the most addicting games ive ever played. also, star wars battlefront is awesome. it has sort of a halo aspect to it and takes place both during the clone wars and during the rebel/empire wars and you can play on both sides. i also sort of liked the jedi academy games but the controls suck and action games get really boring.

-the clone wars comics are totally awesome and tell you whats going on between episode 2 and 3.

-theres also lots of star wars books, but a lot of them aren't great.

-the clone wars animated series vol 1 is being released on dvd in march. i liked it a lot. also, episode 3 comes out in may and the episode 3 game, which looks cool as hell, comes out in may as well, about 4 days before the movie.

im a nerd for real. most of my opinions are really biased. dont be like me. go outside and go sledding or learn to knit or start working out. bye!

January 24, 2005

“isn't it messed up, how i'm just dying to be him”

sometimes i look back at the things i write and just want to throw it away. its like when it gets kind of bad the words just fall off my tongue and fingertips. but when it's at it's worst- its just contrite and cliche. not that any of this matters. but when posts are disappearing it's just me realizing i am being overdramatic. we're looking in mirrors and laughing cause we're in on it (princes of the scene, makeout queens).

you're making it okay: uncrustables (strawberry only), tiny hoodies from the little boys section of thrift stores, new bright eyes, this movie windy city heat- i swear to god it is the funniest movie i have ever seen, elliot smith "from a basement...", chocolate cake milkshakes, full moons, 80 degree weather in january, catcher in the rye (almost as cliche as me, but its the best there is, its safe), stealing clothes from photoshoots instead of doing laundry (never should have let us try on the clothes hahaha), the san diego zoo, bob for buying me an electic scooter-FBR tour is gonna be radical, new panic at the disco song, patrick laughing at me trying to squeeze into hilarious jeans- i promise you it's gonna happen, champaign for my real friends- real pain for my sham friends.

i think you're gonna like the new record, it's like a day away from being finished- at least the recording part....

as for the internet drama. its over. we're all friends- and fob fans are way cooler than any other bands. you are the only thing that makes it worthwhile.

"it feels like the first day of my life, glad i didn't die before i met you".

peterabbit

January 25, 2005

“technology doesnt work”

so i just wrote a really really long entry on this thing using my sidekick. hell, i even referenced sanders. yea thats right sanders, whatcha gonna do about it? nothing cause your hands are too small to punch a hole through my gut. so anyway, my sidekick took a crap on it. so now i have to write a WHOLE new one. ugh. the things im compelled to do. first off, what the hell is with celebrity weddings and e! thining we give a fuck about them? seriously, i dont care what slutty dress barbara walters is wearing to trumps wedding and i dont care about trump and his lackluster combover. he spent 35 million on his wedding. what a moron. seriously dude, spend 100 bucks on a vegas wedding, put the rest on black, double your money, buy some of those sick wrap around oakleys and do a bachleor walk down the street telling everybody that you're hot and these babys aren't even close to street legal, and refer to your awesome thighs when you say that because you know youll be wearing bike shorts. So I want to own a bear that rides a motorcyle with a shark on his back. Seriously, that dude would be like "I'm sort of in your face, I don't mean to be, but I'm a little in timidating. Please, stop making fun of us because we do two on one cycle here. Its how we like to ride. Its comfortable that way." And then he'd be like spear spear spear spear victory ride! so im excited to get home, see the folks, see the friends, see the woodsman, study on some boron, just get all the things done i need to. allright, this is my entry substitute. the other one was better but i forget most of what i wrote.

January 27, 2005

holy fuck.

please be my date to this [link to corpse bride trailer]

Oh yeah and "the boy with thorn in his side" is now available in all hottopics. Thanks to you guys for bugging em to get it in... Now pick up a copy there!

Peterpan

January 29, 2005

we have finished recording our new record and have a couple of weeks of mixing before we head home to chicago. just to let you know this was one of the hardest and most important things i have done in my life. i spent hours and hours trying to think what words would mean the most, what we had to say.

i am listening to the rough versions of the songs.

i hope that when it's finally said and done it means as much to you as it does to me.

p

- petey

[selfcarecap]

flustered petey pleaseeeee

Idk if this is what you wanted but yeah sksssn thanks for requesting, i hope you like it ♡ (what’s wrong with me this is over 1k again)

-this is a repost-

Peter‘s lying on his bed, already showered and changed, eyes shut and his hands covering them as you change in front of him for your sleepover.

“You know it’s kinda hard not to peek while I have my really hot girlfriend change in front of me.“

“Who said you can’t peek?“

He furrows his brows at that, taking his hands away from his eyes, but they’re still shut.

You walk over to his bed and he can’t help but open his eyes when your knees sink in on the bed next to his body.

There you are, the only skin that isn’t exposed is the skin under your underwear although your bra stops pretty low, right above your nipple, and he sees the darker skin peek out.

“You like what you see?“ You straddle him completely, caging his hips between your legs as you lean forward slightly so your boobs are right in front of his face.

The window is open, letting in air, making the lock on his door rattle, and Peter freaks out, pulling the blanket over your head and holding you tight to shield you from anyone coming in.

You giggle, putting the blanket back on the bed, “Was just the wind, Pete,” you say, cupping his jaw and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“I-I..” he stutters, face torn between looking you in the eyes and to your body, at your pretty underwear.

He licks his lips impatiently as he looks up to your face searching for approval to touch what you’re offering.

You take his hands in yours, slide them up your ribs and eventually you bring them to cup your boobs over your bra.

You let go of his hands as his fingers find their own way along your chest. After a few moments, his hands slide back down your waist.

“Are you- can I- Am I-“ he shakes his head at himself, looking down, his hands on your thighs.

“Pete- calm down. We’re not doing anything, we don’t have to do anything. Let me just get my pyjamas.”

You move to get off him but he grips your waist, “No!! I just- just, I’m not sure what’s okay for you. You don’t have to do this, you know?”

“What if I want to? I feel comfortable here on your lap, and I trust you.”

His cheeks are tinted red and his eyes go wide as you reach behind your back to take off your bra.

“I-you-what-“ you cut him off with a kiss, searching for his hands and placing them on your breasts.

His fingers are shaky and gentle against you. “Wow. They’re so soft,” he says, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

You chuckle and kiss the top of his head as he further explores your chest.

Nuzzling his face between your breasts, he kisses up your chest until he reaches your neck and then your lips, “I love your uh, um... your boobs, I mean.”

“I can tell,” you chuckle and he gets red again, “There’s nothing wrong with that, baby,” you tell him.

“Yeah I know um can- can I like- um.”

You raise your eyebrows and smile at him, looping your hands around his neck and pressing your chest against his, “Just tell me what you want, baby. The worst that can happen is I say no.”

“Can I like um,” he lowers his face, his hand under your boob, sticking out his tongue.

Instead of giggling at his antics, you grip his hair and pull him closer to you, so his tongue is flat against your chest.

Without missing a beat he starts sucking on your nipple, his warm saliva dripping onto you.

You throw your head back as your nipple hardens in his mouth. He looks up at you as you let out a quiet moan, like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes finding yours with your nipple in his mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, still warming your nipple with his tongue.

You nod quickly, bringing his hand to your neglected breast and he switches, his fingers rubbing your wet nipple, tongue moving over to your other side.

Clutching the back of his head, you relax into his touch, he’s warming you up with his mouth and with the heat radiating off his face.

His fingers continue kneading your one breast, mouth occupied with the other side and switching every few moments.

You get lost in the feeling of him finally letting go and not being embarrassed by his own want and pleasure.

His whole body jerks away from you when there’s a knock at the door, “Peter, I found the dvd you were looking for.”

He stumbles off the bed, opening the door just an inch and grabbing the dvd from May.

Slamming the door shut, he slides down to the floor, holding the dvd in front of his face.

“You’re okay, Peter. She didn’t notice what we were doing... well maybe not until you freaked out. But May’s cool she doesn’t care.”

He just groans.

“Can you pass me my shirt? We were gonna watch a film anyway, and if you continue what you were doing I’ll need you to help me with something else and I think if I ask you to do that you might explode.”

Peter was already so flustered just seeing your boobs, telling him you wet and needy you are right now is probably going to kill him.

He knows that it would be too much for him too, silently agreeing as he passes you your pyjama shirt.

You’re lying on your belly on the bed, exposing your chest as you sit up again to change into the top.

Peter’s standing in front of you, and you smirk as you notice the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Do you want me to help you out?” you ask- if he’s already hard you may as well offer your help, although you already expect him to say no purely cause he’s still too embarrassed at this point in your relationship.

He looks down at himself noticing his hardness. He nearly runs against the door, then disappears to the other side of it and you hear his quick steps go in the direction of the bathroom.

You giggle quietly, pulling on your pyjama shorts and getting into bed and setting up the dvd you were going to watch on his laptop.

Peter comes back into his room a few minutes later, red-faced as always, and shamefully cuddling into your side without a word.

“I really enjoyed what happened earlier,” you tell him. If you show him you’re not ashamed, maybe he’ll be able to do the same.

“I love you,” he mumbles and you say it back.

You know there’s a freak slumbering somewhere within Peter, waiting to be woken up, but as long as he isn’t ready you’re more than happy just cuddling and watching this movie together.

After twenty minutes of cuddling, Peter’s hand slowly sneaks under your shirt, finding your boob and resting his hand on it. You smile to yourself but decide not to mention it as he’s not embarrassed right now but you also don’t want him to be.

But when May slides condoms underneath the door, Peter’s up again quickly, red-faced, “May!”

part 2 kind of

[ddejavvu]

love letter from petey just about how much he appreciates your support and care and how you can be goofy together and he’s just really grateful and in love, addressed to angel😭 im sorry if this is too vague honey

and happy v day!! 💗💗💗

join my Valentine’s Day celebration!!

happy valentine's day, angel! I hope you like it :)

transcript:

Angel,

I know we’re about to see each other in just a few hours, but I wanted to send this anyway. You know I’m not the best with words, and I really wanted to say this right, so I decided to write my feelings down. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You complete me, I didn’t realize how empty I was feeling before I met you until after you were mine, and I can’t believe I survived for that long. You’re always the sweetest, even when it’s 2 in the morning and I'm falling through your window with a broken rib. I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am that you’re with me and that I get to be with you. You listen to me when I talk, even when I’m talking about dumb stuff, or making stupid jokes. You hold me when I cry, even if I’m crying over a movie I’ve watched a thousand times over. You cheer me up when I’m feeling down, even if I’m sad for no reason. And I promise, I love nothing more than returning the favors. You’re the most special person in the whole wide world, and I hope that what I have planned for us today makes you feel like that, because you deserve nothing less.

I love you,

Bug Boy ♡

+

I'm absolutely certain that this would be part of your day :)

[carelessannie]

Winterspider, Peter x Bucky, omegaverse, smut, nff, other specific warnings in the tags

For this prompt from @femmeparker

Me: let’s do this, but something kinda different

❤️❤️❤️ I love these two honestly Hope you enjoy!

- - -

There’s not much on the TV. Someone made the mistake of giving Steve the remote, and now everyone is subject to watching each channel fly by at an alarming rate, the only constant sound in the room the rhythmic clicking of the next channel button. None of them complain, though. It’s very rare that they all have a quiet night together, and everyone seems content to watch Steve surf the cable box.

The six of them are spread around Tony’s living room. Pizza is already gone and at any moment Tony or Nat will take away the remote and turn on a movie, but Bucky could care less. He usually sits back and watches from the outside, anyways. He looks over at Bruce, and they share a knowing glance— both of them happy to stay quiet and let the others take the lead.

He could go for a drink, though. Bucky ambles to his feet, offering to grab stuff from the kitchen as he heads there. With his head in the fridge, he sorts through the drink options, gagging dramatically at the thought of one of the fruity wine coolers Tony has tons of. He looks at the bottle, scoffing at the ingredients and alcohol content. Four percent? Why even bother?

“Those are mine,” a sweet voice chirps, and Bucky smacks his head trying to turn around.

“Ow, fu—” Bucky lets the curse die on his tongue as he gets an eyeful of the prettiest boy he’s ever seen, swamped in a university sweatshirt and wearing a playful smirk. He holds out his hand, expectantly, and Bucky stares at it, unsure of what this angel wants.

Deciding to play it safe, he shakes the boy’s hand.

“Bucky,” he says, like an idiot.

The boy just giggles, tightening his grip and tossing his unruly curls, “Peter. And honestly, I just wanted you to hand me a drink— but it’s nice to meet you. I feel like since I’ve been at college, I haven’t been able to meet any of my dad’s friends,” he pauses, giving Bucky an obvious once over, “and I think I would have remembered you.”

Bucky knows his face is glowing red. He clears his throat and pops the top on the fruity drink, handing it over to Peter, “And your dad is?”

Peter takes a sip, “Tony Stark. I guess it makes sense he didn’t mention me.”

Oh, he did. Bucky— like the fool he apparently is— just didn’t realize Tony’s son is only a few years younger than Bucky himself. And drop dead gorgeous. Definitely a no fly zone for ex-assassin, centenarian soldiers with war trauma.

He backs up, heading towards the living room in a hasty retreat, when the air suddenly shifts, catching Peter’s scent, and throwing it in Bucky’s face.

“Oh, shit,” this time he does curse, smacking into the wall as he holds his nose, politely stopping himself from smelling the ripe Omega scent beckoning him closer. “I’m so sorry, fuck, I didn’t realize...”

Peter takes a step closer, placing his drink on the counter. He has Bucky cornered against the wall, and the Alpha has never felt more terrified.

“Shh, it’s okay,” the tiny Omega whispers, no doubt getting a nose-full of Bucky’s fear scent, “you’re not gonna hurt me.”

He watches, helplessly, as Peter steps into his space, his maple-honey gaze wide and pleading. The young Omega wraps himself in Bucky’s arms, burying his nose in Bucky’s chest, and starts to purr deep, soft breaths that shake Bucky to his core.

Not heat— no, not quite— but something very close is burning through Peter’s small body. Bucky realizes he’s supporting almost all of Peter’s slight weight, and searches for a chair. There is no way he’s carrying Peter out into the living room like this.

He must black out for a moment, because the next time he’s aware, it’s pitch black and Bucky’s sitting on the floor, still clutching the Omega to his chest. He looks around, hoping to catch sight of something familiar. Rice. Flour, sugar, Raisin Bran— great. Of course his Alpha instincts would not only den them up, but put them in the pantry. Stupid, practical hindbrain.

There’s movement outside, and Bucky growls, low and menacing in his throat.

“Buck? Are you in there?”

It’s Steve. Another Alpha. Best friend. Threat.

“What?” Bucky snarls, running his fingers through Peter’s hair comfortingly.

Silence for a beat, “Do you... Tony thinks you have his son in there, Bucky. Please tell me that’s not true.”

“He’s safe, Steve.”

The other Alpha curses under his breath, “Dammit, Buck. Okay, let me grab Tony. He’s gonna help.”

Bucky wants to protest, but the Omega in his arms has started gently nibbling on his fingers, holding his hand and sucking on them lightly. He hums his approval, and Peter just smiles sweetly, never once opening his eyes.

“James Barnes, do you have my son in there?”

Tony sounds strained, trying to keep his tone neutral as he paces in front of the door.

“He’s safe in here, Tony.”

“Can you give him back to me, Alpha?” Tony asks, a hint of panic coming through his tone. “He’s unbonded and needs his pack.”

Bucky whines, looking down to memorize Peter’s features in the low light. It’s safe in here, warm and dark and full of food, but Bucky’s instincts insist Peter will be safest with his pack. Dammit.

He stands up, hauling Peter into a princess carry, and slowly opens the door, checking for threats. Tony stands on the other side of the room. His hands are tightly clenched around the countertop, and his face is riddled with worry. Bucky walks slowly to his side, and drops Peter into his waiting arms.

Without the Omega in his grasp, Bucky is suddenly on the verge of tears. Peter whimpers, a painfully sad sound, and Bucky has to retreat before he does something to make this worse. “M’sorry,” he rasps, and turns to head for the door, passing the group of Avengers on the way. Steve tries to lay a comforting hand on his back, but Bucky just brushes it off.

He rifles around the living room, grabbing his phone and wallet, and then heads for the door. As he’s slipping his shoes back on, he feels a painful tug in his chest. Then there’s a loud sob from the kitchen. Bucky’s stuck, frozen, with one arm in his jacket as he listens for more.

A small wheezing noise. Urgent whispers. Bucky’s on his knees. Another sob. Quiet pleading and begging. Bucky curls up against the door, feeling his stomach cramp up. Footsteps approach.

“... don’t think he could’ve gotten far— oh! Barnes, what the hell?”

He barely glances at Clint, “... couldn’t... leave,” Bucky breathes out, groaning as another wave of pain clenches in his gut, tight in his chest.

Bucky’s not sure how long he stays pressed up against the front door. He hears voices around him, but can’t understand them. There’s someone pulling on his arm and picking him up. He tries to protest— they can’t take him away— but suddenly there’s a weight in his arms, warmth against his body, and his nose is firmly pressed into the top of his Omega’s head.

Thank god.

He rolls them slightly, pressing Peter up against the soft wall and hiding him from unwanted gazes. He closes his eyes, letting the comfort of his Omega close by lull him to sleep.

- - -

When he comes to, it’s light outside. Peter is snoring gently in his arms, and Bucky’s head is clear. He sits up, taking in his surroundings. He’s in Tony’s living room and sitting on the largest couch, hovering over Peter’s still sleeping form.

“He imprinted on you, Bucky,” a voice behind him, Tony’s voice behind him, breaks the silence. He turns reluctantly to face the man, an apology already on his tongue.

“Save it,” Tony says instead, drinking from a coffee mug absently, “god knows why, but my kid, my only fucking son, chose you as his Alpha yesterday. I don’t get it. How did you even meet? Temporary mating bonds usually take weeks to form— but yours formed overnight.”

Bucky is speechless, so Tony rambles on, “That is what this is, right? Maybe scent compatibility, maybe his oncoming heat, but my Petey chose the world’s most deadly and unstable Alpha to imprint on. Not only that, but you had to go den him away— basically confirming your side of the bond in the process. You’re a fool, James. Actually, I’m a fool. Thinking you could be trusted—”

“Stop it, Dad,” Peter’s small voice interrupts, and the tiny Omega wiggles out from behind Bucky to stare down his father, “s’my choice. I want Bucky.”

“But why?” Both Bucky and Tony ask, in unison.

Peter just hums, looking up at Bucky with his precious doe-eyes, “Dunno,” he murmurs, addressing his dad while holding Bucky’s gaze, “He feels safe, Dad. His scent is different... calm and gentle.”

“Dammit,” Tony hisses, never taking his eyes off the pair, even as Bucky sways closer, enchanted by the perfect Omega pressed into his side.

“You sure, angel? You could have anyone, any Alpha you want would be head over heels to be with you.”

“Are you?” Peter asks, slotting his delicate thumb into the dimple on Bucky’s chin, tilting his head in a sweet, curious gesture.

“Am I...”

“Are you head over heels to be with me?” he smirks, but Bucky can see a sliver of vulnerable uncertainty in his eyes. His hands are still on Bucky’s face, and the bigger Alpha turns, pulling Peter to sit across his lap. He threads his fingers through pretty amber curls, smiling as Peter’s lashes flutter and tremble.

“More than anything— you’re already more precious to me than a hundred years could prepare me for.”

“Then let me choose,” Peter insists, twisting to look back at Tony, “please, Dad. Let me choose?”

Tony looks like he just ate a whole lemon, face twisted and body rigid in carefully controlled anger. Bucky gets it. He would never have dreamed of mating his friend’s son, but now— now that Peter has claimed him and invited him to stay— there is absolutely nothing that will separate them.

“Under no circumstances will he get pregnant, do you understand, Barnes?”

Bucky nods, but Peter fucking mewls, squirming on Bucky’s lap as arousal pours off of him in waves. The Alpha looks to Tony for help, terrified of the Omega slipping into heat in his arms.

“— fuck, no. Of course. Of fucking course,” Tony jumps to his feet, making his way down the hallway, “bring him with you— c’mon, Barnes. Hurry.”

With Peter cradled against his shoulder, Bucky runs, following Tony down the hall and into a bedroom. Tony’s bedroom, by the looks of it. The older man pulls out a tote bag, throwing it at Bucky, “Take inventory. I’ll be back in thirty-five seconds. Do not touch him.”

As Tony sprints from the room, Bucky upends the bag on the bed, keeping one arm around Peter as he sorts through the contents. Damn, this is the most thorough heat kit he’s ever seen. As he takes stock of meal supplements, electrolyte tabs, compresses, an embarrassing amount of toys and plugs, lotion and lube and even a few bath bombs, Bucky has a realization.

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t curse around my son,” Tony quips, tearing back into the room and tossing a small packet to Bucky, “these are his contraceptives. He takes one every morning, so set an alarm, do what you need to do— he’s not missing that.”

“Tony...”

“Also, you had better wrap it up. Alpha condoms are in the bag— we’re not taking a chance with your super soldier swimmers.”

“Tony,”

“— what?”

“... are you an Omega?”

There’s a moment where Bucky feels like he’s overstepped, “I just mean... I’ve never seen a heat bag so thoroughly stocked, even by a parent...”

Tony brings over a few of Peter’s clothes, shoving them in the bag, and laying a protective hand over Peter’s head. His eyes are steel when they look into Bucky’s, “Yes. Not a lot of people know that. I take high functioning suppressants, so I haven’t had a heat in years— not since I was pregnant with Peter. So you’ll understand if I’m a bit protective of my child, James.”

Bucky just reaches out, taking the bag from Tony, “You know I won’t tell a soul. The two of you are safe with me, Tony.”

Tony whips around and yanks him close, holding the collar of his jacket for leverage, “If you’re lying, you won’t be safe from me, Barnes.”

With one last, scalding look, Tony steps back and lets Bucky sweep his son away. Bucky shoulders the bag, heaves Peter into his arms, and runs out of the mansion, suddenly urgent to get them back to his den. There’s a car waiting, and Bucky settles them in the back seat, holding Peter close as they speed back to his apartment.

He’s so thankful for his own place. Living with Steve had been fine, but after a while, they realized that as Alphas, they desperately need their own territories. So Bucky bought an apartment in Brooklyn, thankfully only a twenty minute drive from Tony’s house.

It’s hard to pay attention, though, when the most alluring Omega is settled on his lap, pawing desperately at his pants and mouthing at his neck. He smells sickly sweet: caramel apples and funnel cakes with sugar and sprinkle-dipped ice cream cones all in one feverish body. Bucky rolls down the window.

When they arrive, Bucky hastily thanks the driver and heads right for his den, locking the doors and windows before settling Peter on his bed. He quickly unpacks the heat kit and fills a pitcher with water, letting Peter wake up and explore his space.

He almost drops the pitcher when he walks back into the den. Peter’s university sweatshirt and pants and pretty lace panties are all in a pile on Bucky’s floor, and damn do they look good there. His Omega is grinding, languid, on his bed sheets. His skin is flush and soft grunts escape his cherry lips as his hips move, flexing between an inviting presentation and a perfect bow of submission.

“Omega,” Bucky growls, causing Peter to freeze and look over his shoulder. His eyes are dark, needy and wild. “Look atcha, angel. So pretty ‘n desperate for me.”

Peter arches his back higher, showing off his perfect ass and pretty pink holes, “All for you, Bucky.”

Bucky makes sure to set the water pitcher down near the bed and grab condoms before climbing up next to Peter, kissing his flank and slowly stripping layers off. As he crawls to the headboard, Peter lifts his head up and pushes up onto his hands, tilting his chin up for a kiss. Bucky chuckles, more than happy to oblige.

It’s sweet, just like Peter’s heat scent. Bucky would be happy to drown in his Omega’s kisses and fade away in his arms. Peter's lips move slowly, tongue flicking out and tasting every so often as Bucky sits against the headboard, settling Peter in his lap.

They both groan. Peter’s tiny cock is straining against Bucky’s belly, snuggled smooth and wet against Bucky’s own length as they rut together, enjoying the dull pleasure and saccharine kisses.

“Touch me, Alpha,” Peter begs into Bucky’s throat, nibbling lightly and flexing his smaller fingers against Bucky’s hips.

Bucky sits up taller and uses both hands to part Peter’s supple cheeks from behind, slipping a few fingers underneath to trace along his delicate folds, scooping up a bit of the sweet slick he finds there.

“Open up, darling,” he murmurs, giving Peter a peck on the cheek as a reward when his Omega drops his jaw, mouth hanging open and tongue sticking out obediently. Without pause, Bucky shoves his fingers deep into Peter’s mouth, letting the Omega taste himself. Peter looks shocked, but sucks on Bucky’s fingers anyways. The inside of his mouth is scorching hot and velvety— tempting in a way that they do not have time for right now.

When he slips his fingers free, a slur of pleading and begging falls from Peter’s lips, urging Bucky on and ramping up his own aroused heat scent.

Bucky hitches Peter up further on his waist, sucking a swollen nipple into his mouth as he eases two fingers into Peter’s dripping entrance.

“Ho-oh-ly mother of shit, Bucky, please please... mm, need more. Please, more. Alpha!” Peter yelps as Bucky bites down, hard, on his nipple, using the distraction to work a third finger inside his Omega. He pumps them in and out, bouncing Peter on his hand. He shifts Peter’s weight, lifts him high, and uses his left hand to reach down and thumb at the throbbing clit he knows is just behind Peter’s tiny balls.

His mate screams, “Alpha!” and clenches down, coming violently while speared unforgivingly between Bucky’s hands. Clear, thick release spills from Peter’s cock, and Bucky leans down to suck it into his mouth, never stopping his assault on Peter’s sweet spots. He tastes absolutely divine, and Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head. Peter yanks on his hair, panting and wheezing as he trembles, thighs quaking around Bucky’s head.

“Bucky! Oh, oh oh oh,” Peter chants in between breaths, and Bucky jerks in surprise as his mouth is flooded, again, with his Omega’s cum. He strains to look up, to try and see Peter’s face as he comes apart a second time. Bucky swallows every drop and slowly lowers Peter to the bed. His pretty mate is still twitching, breathing hard, and is now staring at Bucky in shock.

Bucky crawls forward, leaning over his small mate, “Didja find nirvana, angel?” he asks, leaning down for a kiss.

Peter barely returns it, sighing happily into Bucky’s mouth, “Yes, Alpha.” His mouth suddenly pulls into a pout, and he turns sad, wide eyes to look at Bucky.

“What’s wrong,” Bucky panics, running his fingers lightly over Peter’s skin, searching for injury and making the Omega giggle and squeal, “what is it, angel?”

“You’re... you’re still gonna knot me, right?”

Oh. Bucky throws back his head to laugh, tossing Peter onto his front and lining up his straining cock, “You think you’re ready for this, sweetheart? You ever taken an Alpha cock in this pretty pussy?” he lets the tip tease in between Peter’s intimate lips, listening to his Omega wheeze below him.

“No, no no, not n’Alpha cock, Bucky please. Fill me up, fu-fuck me, Alpha.”

Bucky groans, “Damn, you sound so pretty with those dirty words in your mouth. So pretty begging for my cock.”

His Omega keeps begging, arching his back and wiggling his ass in the air as Bucky slips on a condom, kneeling behind his mate and lining up. God, Omegas are so pretty from behind— perfect pink holes are glistening wet, and the tiny cock and balls are just the cherry on top. So precious. Untouched and innocent.

“Take a deep breath, angel. It’s gonna be a stretch,” he waits until Peter obeys before pushing forward, inch by inch, into the hot, wet clutch of Peter’s body. Holy shit. Bucky falls forward, panting into his Omega’s neck as he bottoms out. This is heaven.

When Peter gives him the go ahead he starts a steady pace, withdrawing fully before slamming home in one, strong thrust. Peter yelps, tearing through the sheets, and Bucky just smirks, fucking into him with renewed urgency.

He tangles their fingers together in the remains of the torn sheets. Peter meets each and every thrust, cursing and desperate, lost to his heat as he’s split open on Bucky’s cock.

Then Bucky feels it, feels his knot expanding— bumping up against Peter’s entrance and catching on the flexible skin— and feels his orgasm build, deep in his gut.

“Gonna... oh fuck, Peter, angel. Gonna come. Holy shit, gonna knot you up so good, getcha stuck on me, baby. Fill you up, all nice’n full. Shit.”

He knows there’s a litany of profane promises spilling from his tongue, but he could care less as Peter flutters around him, shouting, “Alpha, oh!” as he comes for the third time. The passage around Bucky’s cock is suddenly slicker, sloppy wet, and he realizes what happened.

“Damn baby, I think you squirted on my cock. Fuck, that’s hot, oh. Oh my god. I’m coming, Peter. Fuck, Peter—”

His instincts wash over him, forcing him to rut until his knot is locked inside Peter’s still soft, still trembling body. He wants to bite, to claim, and sinks his teeth into his own bicep, growling deep as his cock is milked through a gut wrenching orgasm. His eyes roll back when Peter clenches down, and he can’t stop coming.

Peter wiggles around, shifting the intimate lock of their bodies and causing both of them to groan. “You’re heavy, Alpha,” he whines, clenching down again.

“Mercy, darling— fuck.” Bucky shivers as a smaller wave of pleasure blinds him, and he flops onto his side, pulling Peter along with him and tangling their legs together.

“How long, Alpha?” Peter mumbles, yawning gently and turning his neck to look back at Bucky sleepily.

“Bout half’n hour. We can rest until then.”

Peter just hums, content to rest in his Alpha’s arms.

Later, they’ll talk. They’ll learn middle names and talk about their favorite colors and dream of a future together. Bucky will watch him go off to college, and Peter will watch Bucky go off to battle.

Until then, Bucky looks down at his dozing mate. He has absolutely no idea where this perfect Omega came from, or why he would be lucky enough to mate him, to knot him, to possibly love him. But Bucky decides not to care.

With a warm Omega in his arms, smiling and squirming on his knot, Bucky will take whatever Peter is willing to give, and return it with as much of himself as possible.

[maximumjinx]

Steven Universe Gravity Falls AU

~Yknow what they say, if you run out of content, ya gotta make it yourself. This is a ? shot (I might continue or not who knows not me) please don’t ask for more I have 18 unfinished fanfics on this site.~

California was nice, Steven had to admit. The people were nice, the food was fantastic, and the weather was splendid. It reminded him a lot of Beach City. Though there were just so many people, and traveling north, Steven was beginning to long for something small and simple again.

Oregon was the perfect place for that, right?

“Ronaldo wants pictures of Bigfoot, and if anyone can find him, its you Steven.” Petey’s voice was faint on Steven’s phone speaker, tossed into the passenger seat as Steven blindly picked a highway exit.

“Sure Petey, but couldn’t Ronaldo just go to a circus?”

“Not big feet Steven,” Petey emphasized, “Bigfoot.”

“Saying it twice isn’t helping buddy.” Steven was half paying attention. He was focusing on the winding roads and the looming trees surrounding him. Deep, in the pit of Steven’s stomach, he felt something start to tug him toward one direction farther away from the highway. He wasn’t quite sure if it was a good or bad feeling yet.

“Forget it, I’m going to take a blurry photo of that mean Gem in the woods and say its Bigfoot.”

“Just don’t let Jasper catch you, she’s no joke when she’s angry.”

“I saw her ripping grass out of the ground I think I’ll be fine. Later dude.”

Steven heard a small click and smiled to himself. He’s happy to see how far the people of Beach City have come and how they’ve taken to the gems. He remembers when the Crystal Gems were once the outcasts of town that locals warned you to stay away from.

He looked up to see a welcome sign.

“Gravity falls. Well, that’s a funny name.”

—

Steven wanted small and simple but he feels he may have overshot it.

This small town had exactly three attractions. A town museum that mentioned marrying woodpeckers (Steven couldn’t figure out if that was a normal human thing, like taxes and velcro), a small diner, and as one local described it ‘some tourist trap’ deep in the woods. It was a sticky summer day and the former two attractions didn’t have airconditioning. Steven gambled on the last stop in hopes of stretching his legs and maybe finding a source to the strange feeling in his gut. It had become much stronger since he entered this small town. Alluring, but nothing related to Gems as far as Steven could tell.

He parked in the nearly empty lot and stepped out. Jacket wrapped loosely around his hips, Steven made his way inside.

A girl that looked about 13 was petting a pig on the front porch. She was incredibly reflective, and depsite the heat wore a knitted bedazzled sweater that made her glow like a disco ball in the sun.

She looked Steven up and down as he approached, a wide smile taking up her face and Steven saw bright braces with colored bands.

“Hi!” She launched upwards, startling the pig away, “I’m Mabel, but you can call me anytime.” The girl winked and stuck out her hand, palm facing the floor.

Steven blinked.

“Mabel, stop scaring away the customers!” A gruff voice yelled through the screen door, and soon an older man stepped out in a suit, wearing a fez and eyepatch.

Immediately the old man squinted at Steven, sizing him up.

Stanley Pines knew this teen wasn’t local, but he wasn’t sure if he had any money. For all he knew he was another boy trying to hit on his giftshop cashier, Wendy.

Oh well, a customer is a customer.

“Come in, come in, and see our mystical and magical wonders!”

“Magical?” This could be it, Steven could figure out why this town has felt off. Maybe it was gem related after all.

Quickly this older man who had introduced himself as Mr. Mystery gave Steven a tour of what looked like failed taxidermy projects. Now Steven may have a lived a sheltered childhood, but he felt pretty confident there was no such thing as a Sashcrotch. And so far, nothing had felt magical or mysterious.

“That concludes our tour! Here is our mistifying giftshop and it’s purchasable wonders!”

“Right...” Well, at the very least he was able to spend some time in airconditioning.

There was a girl behind the desk in plaid that looked about Steven’s age, and just a half inch shorter than him. She looked bored, flipping through a magazine as a young boy that looked a lot like Mabel made googly eyes as he swept by the door.

Steven guessed there was no harm in asking around.

“Hi, I’m Steven.” He smiled easily, walking up to the register.

“No refunds, even if an exhibit bit you.” She sighed, peeking up before turning back to her magazine.

“Oh no, nothing bit me, I just wanted to know something.”

She looked up to get a better look at Steven and gave a small smirk.

“Sure, but only because I like your shirt. Mr. Universe merch, now that’s a deep cut.”

Unbeknownst to Steven, Dipper Pines would had been watching the exchange felt a twinge of uneasiness as this out of towner talked with Wendy.

“Have you ever seen anything strange or weird actually happen in this town?”

Wendy’s smile dropped.

“Why do you ask?” Her eyes flickered to Dipper, just for a moment, and that was all he needed to rush over.

“Excuse me sir, please buy something or exit the store.” Dipper spoke in the deepest voice he could muster.

Steven looked over with a questioning expression.

“Oh sure uh-“ He blindly reached for the wad of bills that his dad had given to him before he left. Steven pulled out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the counter. Wendy looked up baffled as Steven stuffed the other cash back in his wallet.

“Boy was I wrong about you kid!” Mr. Mystery, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, now bounded over. He had loosened his tie and lost the eyepatch which turned out he never needed.

“Whaddya wanna know? I’ll tell you everything. There’s gnomes in the woods you know-“

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper protested loudly, dragging his Stan away and harshly whispering at him.

“Did you steal that money?” Wendy asked as Steven watched the pair whisper fight in the corner. He turned back to the girl and gave a sheepish smile.

“Uh no, my dad gave it to me before this roadtrip. He’s actually Mr. Universe.”

Wendy lit up.

“No freaking way! Your dad is Mr. Universe? I only got into him since he managed Sadie Killer and the Suspects and they always perform covers of his songs on tour, I can’t believe he’s your dad!” She rambled, stars in her eyes. Steven beamed, he loved when people praised his dad’s music. Greg really deserved it.

Steven learned Wendy’s name and they swapped stories back and forth, only interrupted as the girl from outside slowly rose from the behind the counter beaming.

“A cute musician that loves weird stuff, take me now.” She swooned. Steven blushed profusely, not used to the attention.

“Sorry, my girlfriend Connie probably wouldn’t like that very much.” He said gently. Mabel looked him up and down and pouted.

“I can wait, but not forever.” She warned, and winked, bounding to break apart her grunkle and Dipper, who are now whisper screaming with arms flailing.

“I wasn’t going to mention that Dorito shaped jerk! Just the normal stuff!”

“It’s dangerous! He could be a spy, or government, or another stack of gnomes!”

Steven raised an eyebrow and looked at Wendy. She chuckled and shrugged. Steven carefully approached them.

“He can hear everything you’re saying anyways so might as well tell him!” Mabel interrupted, nodding towards Steven as he came up.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not government.” Steven technically didn’t exist at all. He never had a social security card and didn’t have a birth certificate.

Dipper only glared. Rich strangers with an interest in the paranormal didn’t come through gravity falls without some kind of agenda.

Steven hated the conflict he was starting. No information was worth this family fighting.

“Okay,” he surrendered, hands up, “I’ll just go. I’ll stick around town until tomorrow if you change your minds”

“Wait Steven-”

“Let him go Wendy,” Dipper glared as the boy in pink walked out, “We can’t trust him.”

“But I was going to ask for Sadie tickets...” Wendy groaned, defeated.

“There’s something weird about him.”

“Great!” Mabel beamed, “He’ll fit right in.”

~.~

Steven wasn’t crazy about sleeping in his car, but was seriously considering it after seeing the state of his motel room. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, a thin line of dust covering every surface. He was also pretty sure they didn’t even have free ice. 

“Wish Pearl were here..” He mumbled, exhausted. He curled up on top of the covers, fully clothed, and let sleep take him.

Being Steven Universe however, meant rest was sure to allude the half alien. 

Steven found himself in a dark space, fog all around him. Before a word could come out of his mouth he heard a fast, repetitive muttering. 

“Stranger...Wendy looked pretty today..Can’t trust...Tell no one...Ford isn’t here..”

“What, the-” Steven quietly walked toward the source of dialogue, and saw the faded silhouette of the boy from the Mystery Shack. His back was turned to him, but Steven recognized the blue vest and mosquito bitten legs. 

“I thought I was over the dream hopping.” Steven spoke a tad too loudly, starting the young boy - Dipper.

“What-” Dipper’s eyes grew wide in panic, and the boy fell back harshly.

“No, no, you can’t be in my head!” 

“Wait, I’m not-” Steven tried to reassure him, stepping carefully towards the boy but Dipper let out a screech of terror, sweat gathering around his temples.

“Bill sent you didn’t he?! He’s not really gone- he’s going to hurt Mable again-” Dipper began to hyperventilate. 

“Dipper please,” Steven took a step back, arms in the air in surrender. 

“I-”

“I’m not going to hurt you I swear on the gems.” He placed a hand over his heart. “This is a total invasion of privacy but it’s something that happens when someone’s emotions are out of control-”

“How are you here?” Dipper demanded, scrambling to his feet. “Tell me what you are and what you want.”

“I’m just passing through!” Steven insisted, then lowered his tone to calm the younger boy. “I’m kinda of magnet for weird stuff. I just wanted to help in case anything was going on.”

“We deal with things just fine around here.” Dipper spat, then watched as Steven deflated. He seemed tired, like he hasn't slept well in a while. 

“So what are you anyways? How can you be here?”

Steven winced, and laughed nervously. “It’s kind of a long story..”

Dipper raised and eyebrow and swept his arm around the void dramatically. 

“You have until dawn.”

~

“I thought that was a conspiracy theory, it wasn’t even covered by major news outlets.” Dipper look exhausted, cross legged on the unseen floor as he ran his hands through his hair. 

“I think Garnet is pretty persuasive when it comes to government and reporters. They all kinda fall in love with her.”

“She’s the one that’s really two aliens?” 

Steven shook his head with a small smile. “It’s hard to explain but yes, I guess that comes close.”

“That’s actually insane. I’m insane, aren’t I?” Dipper stood up, leaving Steven on sitting next to an empty space. “It’s been too quiet around here and now I’m so desperate for weird, that I’m making it all up in my head.”

“I get that feeling.” Steven smiled without humor, “but no, this is real. I’ll prove it when you wake up.” Steven felt a shift, the fog in the void getting denser. 

“Sooner than I thought, you’re an early riser huh?”

Dipper looked back at Steven, panicked. “You’ll come to the Shack again right? In just a bit?”

Steven smiled. “Promise.”

~

Dipper woke up to his sister braiding his hair. Mabel still had her pjs on, and a make up kit next to the bed. Dipper frowned, tasting strawberry shortcake. 

“Stop testing party looks on me, Mabel.”

“Stop having my face structure and maybe I will.” She grinned, covered in blue glitter. 

Dipper quickly washed up and got dressed for the day, feeling like he was anxiously waiting for something but not quite remembering what. 

He felt like he had a strange dream last night...

He quickly remembered, choking on cereal as Steven walked into the shack right as it opened. Hair slightly frizzy from the heat and eyes strangely tired. Maybe dream hopping took energy that he anticipated. 

“Steven!”

“Meal ticket!” 

“Grunkle Stan.” Mabel chastised as Dipper rushed over to the older boy. 

“Good morning everyone.” 

Dipper stopped short, slightly hoping that everything he experienced wasn’t just his imagination. That everything exciting and weird and interesting wasn’t always trying to kill him, ruin his life, or steal his candy. 

Steven looked tired, like he had been doing this much longer than Dipper, but he had still come out with enough energy to smile. 

“Not insane?” Dipper asked hopefully, quietly. Steven snapped his attention from his Grunkle and Mable bickering down to the Dipper. He gave a reassuring smile, eyes quite serious. 

“Not insane.”

[puckinghell]

Acts Of Service | Elias Pettersson

Summary: When people have different love languages, sometimes it’s hard to understand what the other is trying to say. 4 times Elias shows you he loves you, and the 1 time you tell him.  Words: 7.5k (whoops) Note: This concept was very interesting to explore. Also yes, this entire thing was written because of that one picture of Elias in that blue sweater stepping out of the car like a fucking GQ model. 

----

(Some time ago)

“Didn’t you say there’s an apartment free in your building?” Brock asked as soon as you answered the phone, forgoing the “hello”.

“Hello, Brock, my very good friend, how nice to talk to you! How are you doing?” you deadpanned.

At least he had the decency to sound ashamed. “Ah, yes, hi. Sorry. I’m just in a hurry and it’s important.”

You frowned. “Why? Are you looking to move?”

“No.” Brock laughed. “Stetch would kill me. No, it’s about the rookie. Petey? I told you about him. Swedish, quiet, best fucking hands in the league.”

Yes. Brock had told you about the rookie, although you still thought it dumb to call him that. Brock was basically still a rookie himself.

“What does that have to do with my apartment building?”

“He said no to having a billet family but everyone on the team thinks it’d be good for him to have someone to kinda look out for him a bit. He’s never been to Canada before this, you know, and he’s never lived on his own either. His English isn’t that great and everything is new for him. And since you’re such a caring, loving person, we thought…”

“You thought I could babysit him?” you finished for Brock.

“It’s not babysitting. Just, being friendly if he needs anything. Obviously we’re there for that too, but it’d be nice to have you so close by.”

Close by would be an understatement: the free apartment was across the hall from yours.

You weren’t sure if this sounded like something that you would necessarily want to do, but you did feel a bit sorry for Elias: you’d met him at a team thing earlier that week and he’d looked completely lost in the midst of all the Canadian hockey slang that you barely managed to follow, even after having been friends with Brock for years. He mostly kept to Eagle, spoke in Swedish, and his eyes flickered nervously across the room whenever anyone else approached him.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to my landlord. But you owe me, Blondie.”

Brock was happy enough that he didn’t even call you out on the nickname.

1. 

“Have I told you lately how much of a lifesaver you are?” You lean across your desk, resting your chin in your hands. Elias looks mildly amused as he hands you the papers.

“Nearly every day,” he says, “but then I save your life every day, so that seems fair.”

You grab the papers from his hands.

“You’re a lifesaver and the love of my life, Petey.”

You think back to when Elias just moved into your apartment building, only because Brock thought he needed someone to look after him. You could laugh, now, thinking about how wrong he’d been.

Elias is the most self-sufficient, independent person you know. You don’t think he’s ever needed anything from anyone. Like in hockey, where he can make the play and score the goal all at the same time, Elias has his life together.

Unlike you.

Despite the fact that Elias hadn’t needed much help from you, you had become very fast friends. His quick witted sarcasm always managed to make you laugh and he liked how upfront and honest you were with him about things. It was easy, too, to spend time together. With him living just across the hall, you found yourself wandering to his apartment whenever you were bored, and he showed up at yours often when he didn’t feel like cooking.

Just because he could cook, didn’t mean he always wanted to.

And ever since the two of you had become friends, Elias had your back. When you needed someone to water your plants, or feed your cat Puck – Brock had named him – or, apparently, bring you the important work papers that you forgot at home after having worked on them all weekend.

You groan as you flick through the papers. “I thought I was going to die. Without these I can’t finish my presentation.”

“When is it?” Elias asks, eyes searching behind you. You know he’s looking out for your asshole of a boss, who will use any excuse to yell at you, especially the unannounced visit of a friend.

“Tomorrow. I got all the content in these papers here, but I still have to make the PowerPoint.” You sigh. “It’s still so much work.”

“Oh.” Elias’ face lights up. “Almost forgot. Brought you this.” Triumphantly, he reaches down and comes up with a paper bag from your favorite coffee shop.

The words fall off your lips in a gasp. “You didn’t!”

“Strawberry scone and a large caramel macchiato with soy milk.” Elias grins. “I also got you a chocolate chip cookie for later.”

“Marry me,” you proclaim, as you make grabby hands for the bag. The coffee is precisely what you need and your mouth is already watering at the idea of the food.

“Get me a ring, then,” Elias jokes, as he starts getting up from the chair.

Something tightens in your stomach, so you quickly take a bite of the scone: anything to push those feelings to the side. It works a little, and at the very least it tastes amazing.

You’re just friends. If you were gonna be anything more, Elias would’ve made a move already. Or, if you’d been brave enough, you would’ve: but he’s never said anything to make you think he’s interested and quite frankly, you’re not that brave.

“Thank you,” you say, mouth still full of scone, and Elias wrinkles his nose at that as you knew he would.

“I’m going to the store now,” he says, “anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“Wine?” you ask, hopeful. “I’m gonna need it after today.”

Elias rolls his eyes at you, but when you come home after the most grueling day at work there’s a bottle of rosé sitting in your fridge, next to a bag full of your favorite Thai take out food.

Love you, you quickly text Elias, even though you know he can’t answer because the game is about to start.

You take some time showering and putting on comfortable clothes, then situate yourself on the couch and put on the game. It has already begun, and you know it’s not gonna be an easy one, against the Bruins.

It’s not until the first intermission, when you check your phone, that you see there’s a reply from Elias waiting for you.

It’s just a simple heart emoji, but it makes your heart race anyway.

2.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I can barely hear you.” Fiona’s tone is disapproving, and you pull your mouth away from where you’d pressed it into your arm to scream.

“I said, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!”

She laughs. “It’s just a car, Y/N.”

You don’t necessarily like your job, but Fiona is one of the reasons you’re still putting up with it. She’s not just a colleague anymore, slowly turning into a friend and someone you confide into about everything – even about your Elias problem – and you love her, but sometimes you could murder her.

“It’s not just a car,” you bite. “It’s my only mode of transportation, because you know how much I hate taking the bus, and it’s broken, and I probably can’t even afford to get it fixed. And now I have to walk home, and it’s raining.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Fiona admits.

After a long day at work, you couldn’t wait to get home and watch The Bachelor until you fell asleep, your cat in your lap. However, when you finally got away from the office and stepped into your car, it was clear the universe had different plans.

It didn’t start.

After trying approximately 15 times, you’d screamed, nearly cried, hit the steering wheel, and then went back inside to scream and cry a little more at Fiona’s desk.

“I just wanna go home, Fi.” You know you sound miserable, but you honestly can’t help it. Taking the bus always heightens your anxiety, so you avoid it at all costs: however, walking home in this pouring rain doesn’t seem like much fun either.

And Fiona can’t even bring you home, because she takes the bus to work like a normal person.

“There’s a simple solution to this, you know,” Fiona says. She starts to organize the papers on her desk, a clear sign that she’s getting ready to leave the office as well. “You could just call…”

“No,” you interrupt her, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “I can’t call Elias. He’s got the boys over today and I won’t interrupt his fun with my misery. Besides, he does too much for me already, I can’t ask him for more.”

“Right,” Fiona drawls, “but when he hears that you were stuck here and didn’t call him…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Elias would be furious.

One time, you were on a night out when you got a little too tipsy and didn’t realize your phone had died. By the time you noticed, all your friends had already jumped in their respective Ubers, but you had been too busy chatting with some girl you didn’t know to order yours, and now you couldn’t because you didn’t have a phone. 

You knew you could’ve asked any random person to order you an Uber, or at least to borrow their phone to call Elias – it’s not like you didn’t know his number by heart – but that felt like too much. It had been 3 am and he had a game the next day, so you decided to walk home.

When he found out the next day, he got so mad he didn’t talk to you for 4 days. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and just sat on his couch pouting at him until he spoke to you again.

“Something could’ve happened,” he’d muttered, explaining to you why he got mad in the first place. “And I’m your best friend, and you should know me enough to know that I would much rather you wake me up than you walk home alone.”

You did know that, and he was your best friend, and you’d promised him you’d never do it again.

It’s only that promise, that causes you to reach for your phone.

“I’m texting him, but if he’s busy, I’m walking,” you tell Fiona stubbornly. She ignores you, which is probably fair enough.

Hey, you busy right now? Are the guys still there?

The answer comes right away. What’s wrong?

Damn, he knows you too well. You quickly explain the situation and before you know it, Elias is on his way to come get you, and Fiona is bidding you goodbye after you promise her you’re fine on your own for the twenty minutes it’s gonna take Elias to get there.

You’re just checking your email on your phone when you hear the bell at the front door.

“I’m coming!” you call out. You hurry to grab your bags and then walk quickly to the door, where Elias is standing with his car keys between his fingers.

“So Bella finally gave up, huh?” he asks, a sly little smirk on his face. He always teases you with the fact that you named your car.

“Yes, and I know you told me,” you sigh, and it’s clear that he immediately – and correctly – reads your mood.

Without a word, he opens his arms, and you gratefully fall into them, hugging him tightly to your body. There’s very little in the world that brings you more comfort than one of Elias’ hugs: although being on Elias’ couch wearing one of his old hoodies watching some stupid reality show might come close.

“Let’s go home,” Elias finally mumbles, and he holds out an umbrella when he lets you go.

It’s raining really hard, and you know he has to park his car a little bit away because there’s no parking in front of your office, so you take it.

“You could’ve just called, I would’ve ran out,” you tell him sternly, but he shrugs.

“But then how would you have gotten the umbrella?”

You would tell him you’re not made of sugar, but as soon as you step outside the rain clatters loudly against the fabric of the umbrella and you realize you would’ve really, really hated to not have it, so you stay quiet.

Instead, you walk after him as he runs to his car and opens the passenger door for you. It’s still running, and the heater is on: only then do you realize you’re quite cold.

This morning they said it would be nice outside, so you didn’t bother to take a coat.

It’s quiet in the car for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, and combined with the soft music that is playing on the radio it lulls you into a false sense of comfort.

Until you realize something.

“Oh God,” you groan, “I’m gonna have to call someone to tow Bella to a mechanic.”

Elias raises an eyebrow. “Well, you could just leave her there.”

Normally you would’ve at least playfully punched his arm for the sarcastic tone in his voice, but right now you’re too busy freaking out.

“And how am I gonna get to work tomorrow? Don’t you dare say you’ll bring me cause I know you’ve got morning practice and it’s super out of your way. Fuck, why did this have to happen to me?”

You let your head fall against the window. The glass is cold against your cheek and it’s enough to stop the spiraling in your brain at least for a second.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice has lost all sarcastic edge. It’s gentle now, and he’s speaking low as if not to startle you. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll call the tow truck and the mechanic and get your car fixed. And Brock lives close enough that he can take me to and from practice and you can just take my car to work.”

It’s… a reasonable solution, but once again something that Elias has to go out of his way for, even just a little bit, and you feel something warm bloom inside your chest.

“Okay,” you answer, the stress already ebbing away. “Thank you. You’re the best.” You reach out and place your hand on his knee, squeezing slightly. “Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Elias mumbles something incoherent. You think you see some color on his cheeks, but surely that’s just because the heater is on, because there’s no way he’s blushing over something you said.

You turn off the heater, and let your thoughts wander as Elias drives you home.

3. 

Traveling is fun, but traveling for work is instantly a lot less fun. You really don’t know how Elias does it.

You’re feeling run down and jetlagged when you come back from your work trip, which is ridiculous cause you flew to Toronto, not to freaking Europe. But it’s late at night and the three days you were away were so busy you can barely remember sleeping at all.

Fiona slept on the plane, so she looks a little more alive than you when your feet touch the ground at Vancouver airport.

“Is Elias coming to pick you up?” Fiona asks, as you’re both walking through the gate.

You shake your head. “I’m sure he would’ve insisted if he could, but he’s in California right now. They played the Kings tonight and they’re playing the Sharks the day after tomorrow.”

“I wish I was in California,” Fiona says wistfully. It’s cold and wet in Vancouver and it wasn’t much better in Toronto. The tiredness doesn’t help: it feels as if the cold of the night is slowly creeping into your bones.

“Come on then, I’ll drop you off.” You thank Fiona and follow her to her car. Normally you wouldn’t have minded taking an Uber, but right now you just wanna get to bed as soon as possible.

“If I fall asleep, just let me sleep here,” you mumble, resting your head back against the head rest. Fiona laughs as she starts the car.

“No way, you’ll freeze to death.” She squints outside. “Do you think it’s gonna rain?”

“It always rains,” you say, despite the fact that it’s not raining at the moment.

Fiona turns onto the highway. “So, are you finally gonna put up that bookcase you bought?”

Involuntarily, you groan. “Stop, don’t remind me.”

Your old bookcase is big and ugly, and it has been a thorn in your eye ever since you moved in. The person that lived there before you left it there, and you only kept it because you couldn’t really afford not to.

Four weeks ago, you finally allowed yourself to buy a new, prettier bookcase.

But…

“It’s just so big,” you whine, repeating the excuses you’ve been giving Elias every single time he raises a judgmental eyebrow at the old bookcase still standing in your living room. “It’s gonna take forever to take it apart and then it’s gonna take me even longer to somehow get it all downstairs and get rid of it.”

“And then you have to build the new one,” Fiona nods understandingly. “And you’re not good with furniture.”

“Hey,” you protest, but it’s weak. You’re not good with furniture, which was proven when you tried to help Fiona move in and didn’t manage to help her put together anything at all. Instead she ended up with a table with three legs. 

You even tried to read the manual, but it’s just not your forte.

“I’ll do it,” you add, “I promise you I will. Just, maybe not this weekend…”

Fiona laughs, but she doesn’t call you out on the fact that it probably won’t happen during the week either.

Finally, you arrive at your building. You can’t wait to go to bed, and you thank Fiona multiple times before dragging your luggage upstairs. When you open the door to your apartment, Puck comes running up to you, meowing and weaving between your legs.

“Don’t be dramatic,” you tell the cat sternly. “Petey sent me many pictures of you sleeping in his lap and I know he feeds you chicken when he thinks I won’t notice, so you got spoiled this week.”

You lovingly scratch Puck’s ears, before flicking on the light and kicking the door behind you in the lock.

Instantly, you notice the difference.

Your apartment isn’t big: real estate in Vancouver isn’t cheap and your job isn’t great. You got this place mostly for the location, and you like the big windows in the apartment and how it manages to get in light even during the darkest of winter days.

One corner of your living room, however, was always darker than the others. The bookcase took away the entirety of the white wall, and it created a dim lit, sad looking corner.

Now, it’s open and bright, as your new bookcase stands proudly in its place.

There’s only one person who would’ve done that.

The phone rings a few times, but you know the Kings game ended a while ago so you let it ring. After a while, Elias picks up.

“Sorry for the background noise,” is the first thing he says. “We’re on the plane. Taking off in a few minutes, probably.”

In the background, you hear some yelling. Probably Jake.

“You put up my bookcase,” you blurt out, ignoring Elias’ statement. “You put it up and all the books are in it and the other one is gone.”

Elias sounds a little smug when he answers. “Well, it’s not like you were ever gonna do it.”

“Thank you.” To your own horror, you can feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Elias, seriously…”

“It’s nothing.” You can hear Elias’ smile even over the phone: you know everyone always makes fun of his deadpan tone when he talks to media but with his friends, his voice always betrays everything he’s feeling. “I know you were worried about it, and I know how much you hated that old one.” He laughs. “I get why now, by the way. It took me and Brock like four hours to get that thing out.”

“Brock helped too?”

“He did.” Elias is silent for a while, but in the background you hear another voice. “Brock says to tell you that I forced him. But that’s not entirely true.”

Entirely. You know Elias definitely did force him.

“Tell him thank you too.”

“He says you’re welcome,” Elias says, quick enough that it makes you think Brock didn’t say that at all. “We’re about to take off so I have to put my phone on airplane mode. But call me tomorrow okay? I wanna hear about your work trip.”

“Okay.” For some reason, you can still feel the lump in your throat. You didn’t notice it momentarily, while you were focused on Elias’ and Brock’s bickering, but now it’s back, and with a vengeance.

Fuck. You just…

“I miss you.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself and if anyone would ask, you would blame the exhaustion and the fact that Elias can’t see how wet your eyes are over the phone.

“I’ll be back soon,” he answers softly, and his voice is gentle in a way that makes you think he knows about the tears, anyway. “And when I am, we’re gonna take a whole night to eat food and stare at that bookcase, because it needs to be appreciated after the effort I had to put in to build it.”

You laugh before quietly saying goodbye to Elias and hanging up the phone.

In the kitchen, Puck sits in front of the fridge. When you open it there’s a pan with chicken.

For Puck the note next to it says, and you send Elias a picture of Puck with his chicken.

“He spoils you,” you tell your cat. You decide to ignore the fact that he kinda spoils you, too.

4. 

When you open the door to your apartment, you’re met with the smell of garlic.

After yet another shitty day at work, you can already feel the lump in your throat building again. You didn’t even tell him, this time. In fact, you carefully avoided his texts because you knew he’d clock that something was wrong.

Fuck. That’s probably where you went wrong in the first place; usually you never ignored Elias’ texts.

“Hello?” you call out into your own apartment.

There’s soft music playing and there’s light coming from the living room, but the amazing smell that tickles your senses is clearly coming from the kitchen, so that’s where you go.

Elias is standing at your kitchen counter, chopping a carrot.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling your way. “I’m making dinner.”

It’s almost too much, how domestic it looks. And how right: like he belongs there in your space, waiting for you to come home.

Suddenly there’s the overwhelming urge to go towards him, so you do. His arm immediately lifts, creating space for you in the crook of his body, and you slip under his arm easily.

“How did you know?” you mumble into the fabric of his worn Canucks hoodie. It smells like him, a scent that reminds you of home as much as your mother’s signature dish.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Elias hums. His arm tightens around your body. “So I figured you could use some good food and a bath.” His head motions towards the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m running it as we speak.”

God. You love him.

It hits you, then. You knew you had a crush on him, knew you wanted to kiss him and hold his hand and feel his hands on you. But it’s more than that, now.

It’s the realization that you want to share everything with him. The ups and the downs. The bad nights and the bright mornings. You want him in your kitchen, but more than that, you want it to be his kitchen, too.

Fuck. You’re so royally screwed.

Because he does this, and he does so much for you, but he’s never said anything, anything at all, to indicate that he wants that. Or has even considered it, thought about it.

Maybe it’s never even crossed his mind. Maybe he takes care of you like he would take care of a sister.

“Hey.” Elias’ voice is gentle as it pulls you out of your thoughts, back down to earth. “You’re shaking. Go take a bath, and I’ll finish dinner, and then we’ll watch How I Met Your Mother. I wanted to watch the next episode but I waited for you.” His grin is a little lopsided. “Isn’t that chivalrous of me?”

It is, and normally you would tease him for it, but you can’t really think or speak, so you just nod.

“There’s wine in the fridge, if you want a glass,” Elias says. He holds out a wine glass, already waiting for you on the counter.

And who cares that it’s only a Tuesday: you deserve it, damn it, so you open the fridge to find the wine.

You’re met with more than just that.

“You bought groceries?” you ask, your eyes traveling through your fridge. You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in like a week, and when you left for work this morning the fridge was basically empty. Now it’s so full you wonder how you’re gonna close the door.

“How else was I gonna cook anything? You only had cat food left,” Elias tuts. You’re not surprised to find Puck at Elias’ feet, waiting for him to inevitably slip him some human food.

“Did you get…”

“Your coconut yoghurt? Yes.”

He did, and he got basically all your staples, and nothing you wouldn’t buy yourself.

“Honestly,” you say, as you finally reach for the bottle and pull your head out of the fridge. “I don’t know what to say, Petey. Thank you. I had such a sucky day and now it’s already endlessly better.”

This time you know you’re not imagining the flush on Elias’ cheeks.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You should go take that bath before it goes cold.”

You want to say more: to tell him time and time again how amazing he is, how much he means to you, how thankful you are. But you know once you start, you can’t be trusted to not say the one thing you don’t think he wants to hear.

So you say nothing, and simply go to take your bath.

+1

But you think about it.

You think about it all throughout Christmas, where you don’t see Elias at all. You think about it during NYE, when you get a drunk SnapChat from Elias with his brother, right at midnight.

At least, you figure, he’s not kissing any girls.

You’re not kissing any boys, either. You’re at a NYE party with Fiona and it’s fun, it is, but it’s not the same as it would be if Elias wasn’t all the way in Sweden.

You miss him like a limb, and you know it’s not fair because he rarely gets time to go home to Sweden and he deserves that time with his family, but you can’t say you didn’t wish his time off ended already.

When it finally does, it’s not Elias you see first. Troy is throwing a late New Years party, just to welcome everyone back to Vancouver as they get ready to start the season back up, and when you arrive at his house it’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a handful of people there.

“Y/N!” Brock calls out, opening his arms to give you a big hug as you enter. “Missed you!”

You laugh. “Get off of me, you giant. I’m gonna drop the wine.”

“Not the wine,” Troy says dramatically, tearing it out of your hands. His eyes are sparkling when he thanks and hugs you, and then Brock is ushering you into the living room, where Jake is talking with Quinn.

Or talking at Quinn. To be honest, you never really know when Quinn is paying attention.

“Y/N!” Jake exclaims, much like Brock had. “I’m glad you’re here, we need your input on something.”

“Okay?” you ask, curiosity instantly taking over. Whenever Jake and Brock get together, it promises to be an interesting evening.

“We’re trying to decide Brock’s love language.”

It’s sudden enough that you laugh. “His what?”

“Love language,” Jake explains. “Like, how he shows people he loves them. He says it’s quality time, but I think it could be physical touch. He’s always touching people.”

“Jake is deflecting because his love language is physical touch,” Brock scowls. “I think I know my own love language, Tuna.”

“Hold on.” Unfortunately, you have to press the pause button on their discussion. “What options do we have?”

You’ve got no idea where they got this from, but it doesn’t really matter. You’re always down to share your opinion on stupid stuff with your favorite boys.

“There’s gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and…” Brock pauses, and you can nearly see the wheels in his head turning.

“Acts of service,” Quinn offers, which proves that he was actually paying attention.

“Mine is physical touch,” Jake says determinedly. “When I care about someone, I always wanna be touching them, and when I’m in love with someone that’s like twenty times worse.”

“Poor girl,” Quinn mutters, and the conversation gets paused in order for Jake to put Quinn in a headlock.

“I think yours is quality time, actually,” you tell Brock when Jake is done murdering the rookie. “Your ex was always on her phone during your date nights and I remember it drove you crazy.”

“See,” Brock says proudly. “Quality time baby. If I’m there I’m there.”

“What about yours, Huggy?” Jake asks. “Physical touch would make sense, since you’re called Huggy.”

“I’m not called Huggy,” Quinn deadpans. His face is devoid of any emotion, but you know him well enough to recognize the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He reminds you of Elias, when he does that. “And if we were going by nicknames your love language would be fishing.”

Everyone cracks up on that, and then the doorbell rings and Bo arrives.

The topic gets put on hold, then, because Bo is instantly talking about Gunnar’s first Christmas and Brock is talking about becoming an uncle again and you feel warm and happy on the couch with your wine, squeezed between Brock and Troy.

Until, a little later, you realize someone is missing.

“Where’s Petey?” you ask Troy. “Isn’t he coming?”

Troy shrugs. “Should do. But you never know with Pete.”

It’s not entirely true: if Elias promises he’ll be there, he will be there. But, to be fair, he usually doesn’t promise that to anyone but you, and you hadn’t asked him to come, this time.

You figured he just would.

“What about Petey’s love language?” Brock asks idly, not knowing he’s opening Pandora’s box for you. “Definitely not words of affirmation, huh.”

Troy laughs.

“Nah, Petey’s an acts of service guy. He’s always doing shit for Y/N.”

You would protest if you trusted your voice not to shake. As it is, you stay quiet and hope the flush on your cheeks gets mistaken for a wine flush, and not an Elias flush.

Brock brightens. “Oh, yeah! Getting her car fixed, making dinner, building her stupid bookshelf, feeding her cat… He is a typical acts of service guy.” He bumps against your shoulder playfully. “I hope you appreciate his showing of love, Y/N. He rarely does that shit for me.”

Troy snorts. “That’s cause he’s not in love with you, Boes.”

“He’s not in love with me either!” you squeak, unable to stay quiet any longer. You know if you don’t derail this trail of thought very soon, it’s gonna end badly for you.

Both Troy and Brock look unimpressed, at that statement.

“Yes, he is,” Brock says slowly, as if explaining something to an unruly child. “He drops whatever he has going on to do small things that make your life easier. That’s literally the same as him screaming I’m in love with you from the highest rooftop in Vancouver.”

“He’s not like you,” Troy continues, a little more gentle. “When people have different love languages, they don’t always understand what the other is trying to say. Your love language is words of affirmation. You’re always telling Petey how amazing he is. But he doesn’t see that as a declaration of love, or whatever. He thinks you tell everyone that they’re amazing.”

You do, to be fair, but not as often as you tell Elias. Because he’s…

Well. Amazing would be an understatement, actually. He’s everything to you.  

Things are starting to make sense, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Suddenly, you start wondering if there’s more to his acts of service than plain friendship, or him being a good guy.

It’s not like he does stuff like that for all his friends. He helps them out, sure, but he always goes above and beyond for you, usually not even needing to be asked.

But he’s not in love with you, surely? He hasn’t said anything…

But maybe words aren’t his thing. Not like they are yours: the way you can’t stop yourself from gushing into Elias’ ear even when you know you should stop.

What if Brock and Troy are right?

You don’t get much time to think it through, because that’s when Elias finally appears in Troy’s living room, looking endlessly cool in his blue sweater, wearing his glasses. He’s sending death glares at Jake, who wolf whistles from the corner, but then his eyes meet yours and they soften.

“Hi there,” he smiles, reaching out to you. You immediately jump up and launch yourself at him, any previous conversation about the two of you momentarily forgotten as you curl your body into his, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Missed you,” you hum into his shoulder, and you’re rewarded with a grin you can feel against the skin of your neck.

“Are you sure hers isn’t physical touch?” you hear Brock ponder, and you would flip him off if you could be bothered.

You can’t. All you can be bothered doing is plastering yourself to Elias’ side and not leaving him alone even for a second, the rest of the night.

It works at least for a while, until he asks: “Do you want another drink?”

“I’ll go with you,” you say, not willing to part with him yet, and you ignore the knowing look Brock shoots you as the two of you find your way to the kitchen.

Elias immediately goes for the wine, because he knows you better than anyone else.

“I asked my dad about the job,” Elias mentions casually, as if it’s not a big deal at all. “He thinks he can get you an interview.”

“Wait, what?”

Suddenly your heart is ticking in your throat. Before he left for Sweden, Elias had mentioned that his dad knows a guy who works for a similar company as you’re working for now: apart from the shitty boss you have or the ridiculous low salary you get paid. It’s your job, but better, and Elias promised you he’d get his dad to ask if there were any open positions.

There were. And you sent in your application not thinking there was gonna come much from it, but now…

Something warm washes through your chest, like your heart grew three sizes. Of course he asked, of course he made it happen. Looking out for you, always and at any time, from any distance.

“It’s not a done deal,” Elias warns, oblivious to your mental breakdown. “But he said he thinks they’ll like you and he’ll put in a good word for you.”

You squeal and throw yourself in his direction once again. Elias laughs as he catches you, fingers curling in your hair where your face is pressed against his chest.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“It’s about time you get rid of that dumb job.” You can hear the frown in Elias’ voice. “They don’t take good care of you at all, it’s not good for you.” The distaste is obvious and it’s adorable. You pull away.

“I don’t need them to,” you say, carefully. You can still hear Brock’s words in your voice, and you figure it’s worth a try, probably. “Because you’re always there to take care of me.”

Elias’ cheeks darken substantially.

“I mean it when I say I don’t know what I’d do without you, Elias.”

“You’d be fine,” Elias waves away the compliment as you figured he would. But this time you’re not backing down.

“Maybe I would be. But I wouldn’t be as happy.”

They say when you really love a person, you’ve got to show them. But you’ve never really known how to do that, instead you always use your words to tell them. But it seems like Elias isn’t believing you, not even now.

And you’ve got to fix that.

It’s not until you’re in Elias’ car on the way back home that you bring it up again. The party wasn’t really the time and place, but the conversation with Brock and the guys has been nagging in the back of your mind since it happened.

If you didn’t realize Elias’ acts of service meant something, maybe he doesn’t realize your words of affirmation mean something. And even if it doesn’t mean he’s in love with you – you’re really not that sure about that – you need him to at least know how much you appreciate him.

“You know I’m always there for you, right?” you start, carefully breaking the silence in the car. Elias shoots you a glance from behind the steering wheel.

“What?”

“Like, even if I’m maybe not as good as you are at realizing what you need me to do, if there’s ever anything I can do to help make your life a little easier or better I wanna do it. I’d do anything for you.”

It’s too honest, probably, and too much all at the same time. But Elias doesn’t look that surprised. In fact, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You make my life better by just being you, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wonder how you’re gonna get through this conversation. But it’s one that needs to be held, so you press on.

“What is your love language, Elias?”

Now he frowns. “Have you been talking to Brock?”

Of course Brock talked to Elias before he talked to you. The traitor.

You decide to ignore that, for now. You’ll talk to Brock later.

“You know my love language is words of affirmation, right?”

Elias shrugs. “Brock did say that, but I didn’t know what you thought it was.”

“And yours is acts of service,” you hazard a guess. You keep your eyes firmly on Elias’ face, which is the only reason you catch the slight change in his expression.

Like a wall, crossing over his features. He’s trying to protect himself, although you have no idea why. Does he not get where you’re going with this?

“I can tune it down if you want me to,” he says, a little grumpily. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, stubbornly refusing to look your way.

And oh God, he’s truly not getting it, and this is going the exact opposite way you want it to go.

Troy did say that when people’s love languages don’t match, they don’t understand what the other is trying to say. But you honestly don’t know how you can make it any more clear to Elias.

Well, except…

“I love you,” you blurt out. “Like, in love with you love you.”

The words ring loudly in the quiet car. For a second, nothing about Elias’ expression, almost like he didn’t hear you. You can almost feel your heart sink into your stomach.

Then, he pulls over the car.

It comes to a stop at the side of the road, two wheels on the pavement and two still on the road. It is, objectively, not super safe, but it’s also 3am and there’s no other cars to be seen. Very carefully, without looking at you still, Elias turns on the hazard lights.

And then finally, finally, he turns to you and kisses you.

You weren’t expecting it but it doesn’t really matter: it’s like your heart and head both light on fire, and everything outside of the car simply disappears. It’s just you and Elias, and his lips on yours and his hands on your body.

It feels right. Like it was always meant to end up like this.

After what feels like ages, he pulls away. He’s smiling, and his eyes are bright blue in the dark car.

“I thought you said those kinda things to everyone,” he admits, quietly. His thumb is rubbing your side, his eyes fixed on that spot. Almost as if he can’t really believe he’s allowed to do that.

You don’t want him to ever do anything else.

“I thought you did those kinda things for everyone,” you shoot back.

Elias raises one eyebrow. “That bookcase weighed at least 300 pounds.”

You can’t help it: giggles are escaping your lips and suddenly you’re both laughing. The tension in the car dissipates instantly, and suddenly it’s just Elias again, your best friend.

Your best friend that you’re now allowed to kiss. So you lean in and press your lips against his again.

After all, kissing is a love language you think everyone understands.

(+2)

“I’m home!” Elias’ voice sounds through the empty apartment, and you immediately leave your spot behind the kitchen counter to run into the hallway.

With a squeal, you fly towards him, and he catches you easily as you knew he would.

“Hey, babe,” he laughs quietly, pressing a kiss into your hair before returning the hug fully. “Is that my sweater?”

“Maybe,” you admit, as Elias’ hands make their way under his own blue sweater, that you definitely steal from him most evenings. “Missed you. And I’m very proud of you.”

“I missed you too,” he answers. “Watched the game?”

“Obviously.” You roll your eyes, even though you know he can’t see it with your face still buried in his shoulder. “A hat trick, huh? I think that needs to be celebrated.”

“Oh?” Elias pulls away then, one eyebrow raised and a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

“Not like that,” you scold him, lightly punching his arm. “Or, maybe like that. But first, I made Kalops.”

At the mention of his favorite Swedish food, Elias’ face lights up. A while ago, you asked his mom for her recipe and it’s one of the only Swedish dishes you can make, but you make it well.

“Also,” you continue, as you take his hand and start leading him towards the kitchen, so he can sit at the counter while you cook as he always does, “I called the electrician so the TV is already fixed. I know you could have done it, but I decided I’d much rather use that time to hang out with you. I took Puck to get his shots at the vet and I also used my free afternoon to take your car through the car wash.”

When you reach the kitchen, you twirl around towards Elias and his arms immediately circle around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, taking the opportunity to kiss you once more. “But thank you. I love that you took the time to take care of that for me. And I love you.”

“Look at us,” you tease, lightly tugging at the ends of Elias’ hair. “Speaking each other’s love language like that.”

“Perfect couple,” Elias agrees, and you smile back at him.

Somehow, you and Elias managed to create a language of your own: one that you could speak with nobody else. But luckily, you don’t have to.

Cause he came home to your shared apartment like he always does, and well. That’s the biggest act of service he could do for you.  

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | one

A/N: Here’s the beginning of my new mini-series!  I hope you all enjoy it.  It will definitely be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, so be prepared!  There will be five parts!

SUPPORT MY WRITING HERE: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                   *     *     *     *     *

Brock Boeser felt like he was at some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, with everybody around the circle introducing themselves and their similar predicaments.  The group was in a big meeting room at the local community centre, and when he walked in, he saw a group of dads playing basketball in the gym.  He sort of wanted to join them instead of being here, in this room, with all these people that he didn’t know talking about what they were going to talk about, but he’d done this back in Minnesota, at his mother’s behest with his siblings, and he was going to do it here, too, in Vancouver, to make her happy and ease her mind and to make sure that he was easing his own mind.  

“Um, hello everyone.  My name is Brock Boeser.  I’m from Minnesota, but I’m living in Vancouver.  And um, I’m here with you all because my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.”

“Hello Brock,” everyone smiled at him, and he smiled and nodded back.

“So it was your dad that was diagnosed,” the leader, a kind, older woman named Esther who had greeted him at the door and stuck with him until everybody sat down, egged on a conversation.  He knew she was doing it because he was new; everybody in this room probably already knew each other.  A part of him actually wondered if anybody knew who he was.  “When?”

“Um, he—he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2010,” Brock revealed, stuttering it out.  He knew he’d have to be open at these things – open so people could empathize with him, open so he could empathize with others – but it was still tough for him to do so.  “But he—it’s—it’s not just Parkinson’s.  Two years after he was diagnosed, he was in a car accident and suffered a traumatic brain injury.  In 2017, he was diagnosed with lung cancer.  He beat it but then in June it returned to his liver and chest.  In July, he had a heart attack and his heart stopped beating for 15 minutes.  I was with him and—I—it’s—it’s a lot, as you can imagine,” he tried not to start crying right then and there.  Imagine that – first meeting with a Parkinson’s Society of BC support group and he’d bawl like a baby.

“Goodness me, Brock,” Esther said.  “He has support at home?”

“Um, well, money isn’t an issue now, but when I was growing up my mom worked three jobs to make sure we were all taken care of,” he revealed.  “I’d pitch in too wherever I could, obviously.”

“But it’s been tough for a number of years.”

Brock paused.  It had been tough for a number of years.  It had been really tough for a number of years.  He nodded his head.  “Yes ma’am.  I try to take it day by day.”

Esther nodded as well.  “I don’t know if you pray, Brock, but I know a couple of members around the circle do, and, well – you’ll be kept in all our prayers.”

Brock saw a few people nod their head.  Another older woman, probably his mom’s age, clutching a rosary; a Sikh man dressed in a casual suit; a younger woman, probably in her thirties, with short blonde hair.  He appreciated the sentiment.  He knew that people took prayer very seriously – that people suffering took prayer very seriously.  It was, realistically, one of the kindest things somebody could ever say to you: “I’m praying for you.”  “Thank you very much,” he said, nodding his head once.

***

There was an arrangement of cookies at the end of the meeting.  Even after the 90 minutes of everybody talking about their experiences and emotions, they apparently liked to stick around afterwards as well just to mingle.  It didn’t all have to be doom and gloom, he thought.  It didn’t all have to be about Parkinson’s or about sick people or losing your loved ones all the time.  Maybe some people just wanted to talk about the news.  Maybe some people just wanted to talk about sports.  The weather.  Anything.  Anything to make a connection with someone beyond something so tragic.  

After stuffing an entire Fudge-O cookie into his mouth, he looked up to see a young woman staring at him, holding her trenchcoat in her arms.  She was smiling to let him know she was friendly.  He was embarrassed because he knew she just saw him stuff an entire Fudge-O into his mouth.  “Hi,” he said, his mouth still full of cookie, the sound of his voice reflecting that fact.

“You’re Brock Boeser, right?” she asked sweetly.  “You play for the Vancouver Canucks?”

“Yeah,” Brock couldn’t help but smile.  He swallowed the rest of the cookie even though he didn’t really finish chewing it.  “That’s me.  Are you a fan?”

“My step-brothers are more so than I am,” she said.  “But I’m a fan of the team, yeah.  I’m Grace Gillespie,” she extended her hand to shake his.  “God, they’re not gonna believe me when I say I met you.  They’re gonna freak.”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.  “Do you—I mean, do you want a picture?  I don’t mind at all.  I’ll sign an autograph on a napkin if you want me to.”

“Well…it’s a bit awkward to ask you at a Parkinson’s Society of BC meeting, but we could go to the Starbucks down the street and I could buy you a coffee.”

Brock was slightly taken aback at her forwardness.  He shouldn’t have been.  Girls came up to him all the time.  All the time.  And they were most definitely not shy.  But he wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen here, of all places.  A bar, sure.  Out with Petey or any of the other guys, absolutely.  But not here.  “Yeah…yeah sure,” he stuttered out.

“Then we should go,” Grace smiled.  She turned to look behind her.  Brock saw Esther picking up a few Oreos.  “Thank you for leading another great session, Esther,” Grace said.  

“Oh you are most welcome Miss Gillespie.  How is Hamish these days?  You didn’t speak much today.”

“He’s been doing fine lately.  His caregivers have been working around the clock for him.  They just work wonders, don’t they?”

Esther nodded.  “They are angels on Earth.  Anyways – we’ll catch up next week,” she said, leaning slightly on her leg to look beyond Grace and to Brock.  “I hope to see you here again next week, Brock.”

“Thank you, Esther.  See you next week,” he said, realizing he made the commitment before he could even realize what he was saying.

***

“I take that was your first meeting?” Grace asked as she set down the two lattes on the table against the window where Brock was waiting.  

“Was it really obvious?” Brock asked.

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  She didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious.  “It was the stuttering that gave it away, at least to me.  I know I stuttered a lot the first few times I came to these meetings.  I wasn’t the most comfortable talking about my dad’s condition to a room full of virtual strangers.  But within just a few months I realized the people in that room are the kindest, most empathetic, most amazing people that I’ve ever interacted with.  So I became a lot more open.”

Brock was transfixed by every word that Grace was saying.  “So you’ve been coming here a long time,” he said.

Grace nodded.  “My dad got diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I was fourteen.  I didn’t start coming here until I was about eighteen, though.”

Brock knew he shouldn’t ask.  He knew he shouldn’t.  But his brain had ulterior motives, and his mouth – well, his mouth listened to his brain, because it apparently needed to know.  “Is your—is your dad like my dad?” he asked.  “Does he have, like, other problems complicating things?”

Grace shook her head.  “No,” she said softly.  “But the Parkinson’s is enough for him.  I mean he was diagnosed just short of ten years ago and he’s already on puréed foods.  It’s not—I mean, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t regularly develop that fast.  But that’s…I don’t know how you do it.”

Brock didn’t know either.  Some days he didn’t.  “I just take it day by day,” he said simply, just like he said in the meeting.  “If I think about it too much…that’s when it’s bad.”

“I hear ya,” Grace said, taking a sip of her coffee.  “But let’s…not talk about this for too long.  Do you like Vancouver?  Do you find it nice?”

Brock appreciated the change in topic.  “I love it here,” he nodded his head, smiling.  “The city’s great.  The fans are great.  My teammates – I mean they’re amazing.  What do you do?”

“I’m a dance teacher at Goh Ballet – little kids and teens, mostly.”

He wasn’t expecting that.  She was drop dead gorgeous, sure – Brock wasn’t blind – but he wasn’t expecting to hear she was a dancer.  “Do you, like, dance in the real ballet?”

Grace snorted slightly at his phrasing of ‘real ballet’.  “No.  I pursued it only up until a certain point.  I was good, but uh, I stopped when my dad got diagnosed.”

“Why?  Don’t they always tell people like us to have, like, an outlet or whatever?”

“They do.  But I loved my dad more than I loved dance.  And I would have rather spent the time that I was spending on dance with him instead.”

He understood where she was coming from, and he wasn’t there to judge her.  “And your brothers you mentioned, did they help too?”

“Oh no no no.  Sorry – I should have specified.  I’m an only child.  Like, the only child between my parents.  But they divorced when I was six and when my mom re-married I gained two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo.”

“How was the divorce?” Brock found himself asking.

“You ever see footage of a nuclear bomb exploding?” Grace giggled as she asked the question.  It caused Brock to laugh too even though the analogy she was making was dreadful.  “It was awful.  The type of divorce nobody deserves, you know?  I became a pawn, basically, and my parents would only speak to each other through lawyers.  Even stuff concerning me.  It was bad.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was.  But it’s the only life I know,” she said.  “He was lucky my mom ended up marrying another rich guy.  I mean, my mom only marries rich men,” she giggled slightly again.  “That’s how Jasper and Theo became my step-brothers.”

“So your family has money?” Brock clarified.  “What’s it from?  Dad a lawyer or something?”

“Not exactly,” Grace said.  “My dad and his brothers own a private equity firm that started like this,” she pinched her fingers together, “and went like…” she continued, spreading her fingers and moving her hands around her like a bomb explosion.  “Gillespie Brothers Investments.  I’m sure as a Vancouver Canuck you’ve heard of them.  I mean they wanted to buy the Canucks before the Aquilinis.”

Brock hadn’t heard of them, but he now knew he’d have to do some snooping when he got home. “I haven’t heard of them.  But I mean – sounds like they were successful.”

“Three billion dollars is pretty successful to me,” Grace quipped.

“B—Billion,” Brock sputtered out.  “With a B.”

“With a B,” Grace nodded.  Brock had no idea he was sitting across from the daughter of a billionaire.  She didn’t act like a billionaire.  Not like Brock knew what billionaires acted like.  He’d never met one before in his life.  Well, besides Francesco.  “But tell me more about what you like about Vancouver.  What about the nature?  I always kind of fine a good long walk along the Seawall or through Stanley Park really clears my mind from all…this.  What about you?”

Brock smiled.  “I find the white noise of downtown clears my mind.”

***

“You want my number,” Grace said as a statement rather than a question as she and Brock exited the Starbucks.  They were kicked out.  They’d been there for so long that they’d been kicked out because they were closing.  Their coffees had gotten cold.  They hadn’t ordered new ones.  And now they found themselves on the deserted sidewalk, jackets put on hastily, and Grace came up with that.

Brock looked down at her.  They’d been able to look into each other’s soul for the past few hours.  “Of course I want your number,” he said.  There was no reason to hide it.  No reason to deny it.  No reason to have to wait until next week to see her again as they sat around in a circle in a community centre talking about their parents.

He took out his phone.  She gave him her number.  He texted his name to hers so she’d have his.  When that dance was done, she looked up at him.  “I’m really glad I met you tonight,” she said, her voice sincere.

Brock nodded.  “I’m glad I met you too.  I—I really enjoyed this.  And I mean—I needed it.”

Grace smiled, nodding her head.  “I needed it too.”

“D’you—” Brock stopped, trying not to get too far ahead of himself.  “D’you need a ride home?”

“Oh no no, my driver is right there,” she motioned her head towards a black Mercedes waiting by the curb.

Brock hadn’t noticed the car until now.  “Chauffeur?”

“Billionaire dad,” she winked.  Brock understood.  She took a few steps back before smiling one more time.  “Call me,” she said, before flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking towards the Mercedes and getting into the backseat.  Brock watched as it drove off, making a right at the end of the street.

He would definitely be calling.

[generallybarzy]

not despite, but unconditionally.

an: written for my lovely lovely friend @softboybarzal who i love dearly so so so so much 🖤🤍💜 happy late asexuality day!!!! I hope this is everything i think it is and I hope it makes you feel all soft and happy because of it. I really put my heart in this one for you and everyone else out there who feels like someone won't love and accept them because of their sexuality. I love all of you sm and I promise you will find someone who cherishes you like barzy does in this fic.

tagging: @softboybarzal ​ @fallinallincurls ​ @matbaerzal ​ @npatrickz ​ @canadianheaters ​ @selenophileangel ​ @deleausvp ​ @colecaufield ​ @hockeyhughes11 ​ @nazdaddy ​ @barzysreputation ​ @comphybiscuit ​ @aboveaveragehockeyboys ​ @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself ​ @petey-patty ​ @starswin​ @heatherawoowoo ​ ​

word count: 2.6k

After only a handful of months with Mathew, you already knew he was an amazing boyfriend- always attentive, but never suffocating, endearingly clingy and cuddly and soft, and the most caring and gentle man you had ever met in your life. Something you loved about Mat- but, god, how could you choose when there were so many things to love?- was how open he was to listen, to learn about you, to know you. How good the two of you were at communicating with each other, and how much he listened and made sure he understood what was wrong when you were upset. But, this beautiful talent of his came with downfalls, and that downfall- for you, anyway- was that you could never pretend to be fine around him. He knew you much too well. He knew everything about you. 

Well, except for one thing.

So when you walked through his apartment door for your Friday night cuddles with a gloomy smile and a far-away look in your eyes, he knew something was wrong. 

“Heyyyy, baby.” He bounced over to the door, always energetic, and grabbed your bag and coat from you. He bent down and lay a big smooch against your lips, smoothing a hand through your hair, and you subconsciously leaned into his touch. While he knew you always loved being near him, there was something so withdrawn about you lately. He smiled his comforting little smile, watching you with soft eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, bubs. I’m just tired, long day at work, that’s all.” 

It was a lie, you knew it and Mat did too. Maybe you were tired, maybe you did have a long day at work, but he could see there was something else there. Even so, he smiled softly and kissed your cheek, vowing to himself that he’d get it out of you after a bit of cuddling. “Okay. How about we go cuddle and watch some Netflix, ‘kay? I have a hoodie ready for you to change into in my room, and I’ll start the hot cocoa, okay?”

“Thank you.” 

“Always.” He lay another kiss on your head before shooing you off to the bedroom to change. “Go get cozy, babe.” 

The moment you stepped into Mat’s bedroom, you knew how this night was going to go. Mat’s room was all tidied up, the bed was made and the drawers were closed and his nightstand was de-cluttered, and while he wasn’t necessarily a dirty person, it was obvious he had cleaned up today, and you knew why. Whenever you would come over and see he had cleaned his room, he would later try to take your relationship to the next level by turning your cuddle session into a makeout session, and the only reason those makeout sessions didn’t become more was that you would shoot him down and say you were sleepy. Granted, you loved the makeout sessions, you loved to fall asleep on him, and you loved how understanding he was that you weren’t in the mood. You just weren’t sure if he’d be so understanding that you were never gonna be in the mood.

After you stripped out of your clothes and into Mat’s big hoodie and a pair of sweats, you opened the door to go back out to the living room, where Mat was fluffing some pillows up and putting on Netflix. “Hey, just in time!” Mat set the drinks on the coffee table and pulled you into his side and flopped down onto the couch, snuggling into you like you were a teddy bear. 

“So snuggly tonight, Maty.”

“Only for you.”

The movie dragged on, at least thirty minutes passing with barely any talk between you. Your mind was racing with what you were going to tell Mat when he inevitably tried to make a movie and you rejected him again. He was going to be so upset, you knew it, he was going to break up with you right here. You didn’t want to think about it

Then, just like you knew would happen, you felt his lips against your ear. 

You welcomed it, gladly, you always loved when he kissed you. What worried you was what would come next. You couldn’t keep lying to him about this, leading him on, you had to tell him. “Mat, baby, stop.”

"What's wrong?" 

"Ah, I'm just… I'm too sleepy to do anything." 

Mat was silent for a few moments, before sitting up completely, bringing you up to sit next to him. "Are you just saying that?" God you didn't want to have this talk, you didn't want to fight, you didn't want him to leave you. You could feel the tears in your eyes. “Oh, hey hey hey.” Mat scrambled to collect you, bringing his hands up to cup your face and wipe away the tears, kissing your face tenderly. “Please, babe, I know something’s wrong. It’s fine if you don’t wanna have sex tonight but like, this might make me sound like a dick but I’ve waited and tried again and again and I’m just worried. Is there something wrong? Is it just that you’re not attracted to me or...? What? I promise I won’t be mad, I’m just trying to understand, ya know?”

“No, I’m attracted to you, I promise. I just…” 

“What is it?” Mat’s voice was quiet and gentle, his brow furrowed. He was genuinely trying to understand. 

“I- You might not like it, Mat, and uh, if you want to leave me after this… if it’s too much for you, I’ll understand. I won’t blame you.” 

“Hey, hey…” Mat tilted his head down to try and catch your gaze, his eyes gentle, his fingers even more gentle on your chin. “Okay, you know I’m not pushy, but babe, I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to, but I need you to tell me this. You’re worrying me.” Mat saw the hesitation on your face, the way you couldn’t meet his eyes, and reached out slowly. “Can I hold your hands?” He saw the way your hands reached out instinctively for his and took that as his okay to hold them, marveling at how small your hands were in his. “Take your time, talk when you’re ready.”

You took a few deep breaths, and could only bring yourself to glance up at him momentarily. You couldn’t delay this any longer. "Mat, I don't want to have sex with you." 

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he shook his head softly. "Um, okay, yeah that's okay. I won’t push you to. We can wait as long as you need." 

"No, no, I… I mean, like, ever." 

"I… I don't understand"

“I’m uhh. I’m asexual, Mat.”

“Okay.” Mat glanced down to the floor for a moment, biting his lip and furrowing his brow. You could see the gears turning in his head, and you loved him so, so much just for trying his hardest to understand it. After a moment, he looked back up at you, gentle questioning in his eyes. “Okay, so, what exactly does that mean for you, specifically?”

You were taken aback. Never before did anyone ask you what your sexuality meant to you. No one ever asked where you fell on the spectrum, they just pushed you aside because all they hear was no sex, and decided you weren’t worth a sexless relationship. You were at a loss for words. “I just, I guess I don’t get turned on, if that makes sense? Physically, yeah, I can get aroused, but in my head, I don’t feel the sexual attraction. Trust me, you’re hot and all, but it’s just… nothing… clicks, down there, ya know? I don’t get the urge to have sex or anything.” 

Mat nodded quietly, listening intently, so you continued. No one had ever given you space to ramble about your sexuality. No one had ever listened. And if he was gonna break up with you anyway, might as well get it all out. "I'm conflicted when it comes to sex, honestly, because I don't really want it or need it but I'm willing to do it for you if you really want it, ya know? I'm okay with making you feel good, but it just doesn't do anything for me."

“Well, if it doesn’t feel good for you, why would we do it?”

“It, it’s not that it doesn’t feel good. Well, for some people, it doesn’t. It’s a spectrum.” You saw Mat nod, and it made your heart swell how much he was willing to listen. “Some people hate sex, some people are okay with it, some people like it, we just don’t… necessarily need it. I’m okay with it, sometimes. I’m sure it wouldn’t feel too bad if I was doing it out of love, for you, but I just… don’t need it. I would do it for you, to make you feel good, ya know? But it doesn’t do anything for me.”

“So, that’s what was bothering you so much?”

“Yeah.” Mat was silent, his eyebrows furrowed up in thought. You could feel the tears coming back, even though Mat was so willing to listen, you knew he wouldn’t be willing to stay with you and give up something he wanted as much as sex. "I just, I know you want to have sex, and I just… I knew I needed to tell you, but I was trying to delay it because I just... I love you so much and I don’t want to ruin that. I know you want sex and I can’t promise you that, and I just…” Tears were streaming down your face now, and you could hear Mat frantically hushing you. “I just really really don't want you to leave me because of this."

"No no no baby, don't cry.” His arms surrounded you quickly, cradling you close against him. Your nose found the crook of his neck, settling there against that comforting scent that was just so him. His warmth surrounded you, you could feel his heart beating against your chest, his arms heavy around your back, keeping you close, and you felt safe. “Shh, baby. Please don’t cry over this. Please. I love you.” He lay kiss after kiss on your face, soft little pecks all over your wet cheeks. “I love you.” 

“But you’re gonna break up with me, aren’t you?”

“No!” He leaned back from the embrace, keeping his arms tight around you and catching your eyes with the most serious look you’d ever seen in your relationship. This was the first big, serious talk, after all. “Let’s get that into your pretty little head first, okay. I’m not breaking up with you. I. Am not. Breaking up with you. Ever. Tell me babe, what am I doing?”

“Not breaking up with me.” You smiled tearily and he beamed down at you.

“That's right, you're stuck with me." His lips fell to a tiny half-smile. "Listen, I love you, and we’re not breaking up. But, I don’t want you to think that you’re holding anything back from me. You’re not. It’s not that “you don’t wanna have sex, but I guess I can still love you despite that”, alright? It’s not that I still love you despite your asexuality, or even though you don't want sex. It's that you're asexual and I love you. Two. Independent. Facts.” He punctuated each word with a kiss on your forehead, his hands cupping your cheeks gently. He tilted his head then, glancing towards the ceiling as he thought over his word. “Okay, that might’ve been a little confusing but hang in there for me. It’s that… You don't want to have sex and you're my girlfriend and I respect that. Saying I love you despite this makes it seem like your sexuality is something I should have a problem with, but it isn't. It's another part of you, and I love you. All of you. My love for you isn't dependent on the idea of us having sex, okay? What's that “U” word I’m thinking of? For when I love you no matter what?"

Your throat was tight and your voice shaky as you sputtered out. "You, um, you mean un- unconditional?" 

"Yeah. Yeah. I love you unconditionally, okay? I love you for more than just sex. You're more than that... We're more than that, okay? A lot more. We’re all those dumb inside jokes we have that no one else is allowed in on, we’re weekly movie nights with hot chocolate and snacks. We’re hugs and kisses and cuddles on the couch after one of us had a bad day. We’re those shy kisses while surrounded by my teammates after we see each other on the concourse after a game, and me showing up at your work with lunch and embarrassing you in front of your coworkers, going out with all of our friends, and sneaking away to talk on the roof when the lights and the noises get too overwhelming. We’re about supporting each other in life, no matter what. That’s us. Sex doesn’t matter. If you decide later that you wanna try sex, I’m okay with it. If you’re okay with oral but no penetration, I’m okay with that. If you wanna touch me but don’t want me to do anything to you, I’m okay with that. If you decide you don’t want any type of sex ever, I am a hundred percent okay with that too. You know why? Because you’re so worth it.”

“Mat...” As much as you wanted to believe him, there was something nagging away at you, saying of course Mat wants sex, he’s hinted at it before, and what attractive young man like him wouldn’t? “Are you sure? You might be giving up sex for the most part.” 

"I’m a hundred percent sure. No, no, a trillion percent. Trust me. As long as I can stay here with you and cuddle you and love you and be with you, I'll be happy. Forever. Five-ever." He poked your cheek cutely, and a smile finally broke out on your face, prompting a stunning smile from Mat as well. “I promise you.” He leaned in again and pressed his lips to yours, passionately and with a smile, knowing that finally, you were comfortable again. “And I’m a big boy, I can get myself off if I need to. Promise.”  

“Mat!” You pulled back from him with a laugh.

“Hey, seriously! I don’t need you to do anything for me you don’t want to. I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I forced you into stuff, would I? I’m completely fine going without, forever if I need to.” You buried your face in Mat’s chest, breathing in his cologne and soap, trying not to cry, this time not out of anxiety, but happiness. “I never want you to be scared to tell me anything, okay? I’ll promise you, I’ll always listen.” Mat squeezed his arms around you and lay back on the couch, pulling the blankets up around you and tucking you in tight against him. You snuggled down against him, your heart swelling with the absolute love Mat was willing to give to you. You couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him.

“Thank you so much.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I would never break up with you over something like that. Never. Now, how about we get back to the movie, huh? I’ve had enough serious talk tonight.” 

“I love you, Maty.” 

Mat smiled, his heart pounding against you. He smiled, knowing this was it for him. He smiled at the thought that he was lucky enough to call someone as amazing as you his person, his better half, the person he loved the most in the world. Sex wasn’t even a small price to pay. It meant nothing to him, sex wasn’t even on his mind, as long as he could stay in moments like these with you, forever. This was truly, honestly, all he needed. 

“I love you too, baby. Unconditionally.”

[ivyglow]

When you love someone | Mat Barzal

A/n: I like this piece, it’s small and fluff and I hope you guys like it as well! I’m also proud of myself because the gif on the media is mine  *my gif* -screams internally and cries in Spanish- lol Anyway, let’s not forget @sebs-aston shout out for proof reading this <3 you’re great, Liv! 

Request:  #63 & #8, soft barzal. Thank you 😊 8.“I love you and I’m terrified”  63. “Are you throwing rocks at my window?”

Word count: 1.3k 

Warnings: none, just mention of a fight and lots of fluff

Summary: sometimes all it takes is time away and a fight to make someone realize they’re in love, at least that was what it took to Mat admit his feelings for you. 

The air was cold and he felt even colder shifting every second on his bed. His own room never felt so empty and icy, because it’s been a while since it was only him there. Usually, your socks would be on the floor, a pair of yoga pants draped around his chair, every once in a while a random bra would spark around in rather vivid colors. 

Mat doesn’t even remember how the argument started, but he remembers clearly how it ended: with you running out of his apartment because his pride got the best of him and he wasn’t able to apologize right away. He could’ve grabbed your hands and kissed you, hugging you until both of you were calm and ready to discuss things in a less hurtful manner, but instead he just watched you leave. He watched the door close and heard the car, and he wished you were louder when you did it so that he wouldn’t be left alone with the silence right after. He wouldn’t be forced to deal with his empty apartment. 

He tried to analyze things in his head after the first hour, he changed clothes and laid in bed while his head went from the first day you two met to the current day, just five shy months. And in five months, he was already considering asking you to move in with him. Hell, he was missing you after an hour without you. 

Can you love someone just five months into the relationship? 

He pondered. 

Was there a different explanation for him missing you so heartily? 

Mat sighed.

He never said that he loved you, and neither did you. Maybe because you didn’t feel it yet? Or maybe because you wanted him to say it first? He didn’t know, but he remembered his mom telling him how she knew she was in love with his father during their third date. 

Of course, you can love someone five months into the relationship! 

Maybe he loved you even before these five months. 

Mathew cursed himself, grabbing his keys and speeding out of his apartment to yours. A twenty-minute drive that he made in ten minutes. His mind tried to trick him into giving up because maybe things wouldn’t work out, maybe it was not love -which he cursed once again-, remembering the throb he felt in his heart when you left, or the happiness when he would get home to find you there without him, just like it was your house, sometimes sleeping, sometimes reading, always ready to receive him with hugs and kisses. 

Your buzzer was broken and he didn’t have the keys. It was now almost two am and he didn’t want to make a scene, but he also didn’t want to leave and wait any longer to tell you how he felt. 

Mat considered his options while he kept his eyes on the ground, just in time to see some rocks. 

Yeah, that should work. 

He would make it work.

Grabbing the smallest ones he angled his arms on your window, he probably wouldn’t miss it, your apartment was on the second floor, just three windows up from where he was, however, you were a heavy sleeper and the chances of you waking up with rocks against your windows were small to none. 

He needed to try anyway. 

And so he did. Mat threw at least five rocks before something shifted in the window and he saw your face. You were very much awake, and you were clearly crying. He felt another pang in his heart.

“Are you throwing rocks at my window?” your eyebrows rose, you were torn between thinking it was funny, lovely, or just annoying. 

“Can you buzz me in?”

You were gone for a second and he thought that was it, that you would ignore him, give him what he probably deserved after the argument. But when he hears the lock of the door a rather gentle smile spreads on his face, there was still a chance. Maybe you loved him. 

He never made two rounds of stairs so fast, and it wasn’t even a minute before he was at your door, hands shaking and fingers ready to know when you sprung the heavy wood open.

“What do you want, Mathew?” you ask sniffing. “You forgot to put the cherry on your speech during our argument? Are there any other words you wanna use to hurt me? What could you possibly have to say?” 

He wanted to punch his own damn face, but that wasn’t the time. He could feel guilty any other hour, now he had only minutes before you closed the door on him, and he knows you would do it if he didn’t prove he wasn’t there to hurt you any longer. 

“I love you,” he simply blurts out, your eyebrows raising even higher, but this time your face is surprised. He saw the way you swallowed and shifted on your foot, “and I’m terrified,” Mat finished his sentence. 

He counted the seconds before your reply, considering your reaction he was already pondering the possibility of the feeling not being mutual. It was forty seconds before you spoke and the only thing you said was, “what are you terrified about?” 

Mat looked at his sneakers, hands going to the pocket of his sweatshirt, “I’m terrified of what could happen to us in the near future, I’m terrified I may not be here in New York three years from now, I’m terrified because I’ve never loved someone romantically before, and I’m even terrified you’re not gonna love me back, or that I’m gonna end up hurting you…” he went on, the anguish clear on his eyes, the way his lips would twist with each sentence or how his right hand would leave his pocket to go to his hair.

You can feel your face wet with tears again but this time you’re not angry or sad, you’re happy and warm and hopeful. Bringing him closer by his sweatshirt you stay on your tiptoes before lacing your hands around Mat’s neck. 

He’s close and suddenly things are feeling better.

“You don’t need to worry about not being in New York in three years, or five, or ten, we’re gonna figure a way out, we’re gonna hurt each other sometimes, but love is also forgiving and being better for the other and for yourself, Mathew. And you’ve been making me a better person since the first time we met,” you could feel his hot breath against your lips, nose nudging yours, hands squeezing your waist and bringing your body impossibly closer. “And if there’s something you don’t need to be terrified about is me not loving you.” 

He smiles and it’s a blink of an eye before your lips crash together in a messy kiss, there are tongues, and teeth, and salty tears, but above all else, there’s the recognition of your love. And it was just the two of you against everything. 

“I wanna hear you say,” he whispers dragging his mouth to your neck, biting and leaping lovingly.

You breathe before squeezing him and bringing your lips to his ear, “I love you.”

His lips are on yours again in a matter of seconds, and when you take a second to gasp for air you know he wants to hear it again by the look on his face. So you whisper one more time how much you love him and you promise yourself to always remind him how much he means to you, not even aware that he was thinking exactly the same. You would try every day, and sometimes it would fail, but you had him and he had you, and both of you had love, so you knew things were going to work out.

Taglist: @smit41 @mybrokenshitthoughts @linasobsessions @hoiyheadharpies @d00dlebob @barbienoturbby​ @petey-patty @iwantahockeyhimbo @barzysamdmarnersbitch @elitebarzal​ If you wanna be added to my taglist you can send my your user in here

If you want to read more of my works here’s my masterlist and if you want to support my writing hit the reblog and like button <3 feel free to send me a pm or an ask telling me what you thought about this piece! 

[chaoticparker]

Goodnight

Peter Parker x fem!reader

w/c: 0.9k 

Warning: none, just extreme fluff

Summary: Simply going to bed with Peter 

masterlist

~~

You were sitting on your desk, writing a paper for one of your classes as the sirens and the honking of passing cars on the street below. It was late, around midnight, and you were growing slightly worried. Normally you wouldn't of left your assignment this late, or more accurately bother to work on your assignment this late, but your assignment was due by the class and your class was in about 8 hours, not to mention it is worth 30% of your grade.

You were listening to some calming music with your headphones, so you didn't hear your phone buzz repeatedly from Peter texting you. Peter was getting worried about you not texting him back, he thought that you would still be up; and Peter being Peter, he would got anxious and decided to go to your place. Your music still playing in your ears as Peter knocked on your window. He could see you working away on your laptop with you headphones in so he let himself in, "y/n?" no response, "Y/N?" Peter said a little louder. He put his hand on your shoulder and you jumped in your seat, then relaxed when you saw that it was just him.

You took your headphones out, "Peter? what are you doing here?" He slung his backpack off and gave you a Peter-bear hug, engulfing you with him. "I texted you asking to do homework together but you never responded, so I uh-," He put his hand through his hair, clearly feeling embarrassed for worrying about nothing. "I just wanted to check up on you and make sure you weren’t hurt."

Peter blushed and it was really sweet, you kissed him softly and smiled, "thats really sweat Petey thank you." Peter blushed even harder after you kissed him. He got out is laptop and sat down on the bed to start working, you kept glancing over and asking questions. After a few minutes you decided that you wanted to be closer to him so you got your laptop and moved to sit next to him on your bed.

It was relaxing working with Peter, you bounced ideas off of one another as you wrote your paper, all pressure was lifted and you felt perfect. Within the hour you both had finished and you both dramatically shut your laptops. "Hey love, I'm getting sleepy you wanna go to bed?" Peter lazily said as he rested his head on your shoulder, his nose in the crook of your neck.

You yawned, you didn't even realize you were that tired. You nodded your head and got up to put everything away. You went into your closet and tossed Peter some Pjs, and took out your own. "I'll be in the bathroom, one sec." You left the room and went to the bathroom to change and do your nightly routine, Peter quickly changed clothes and after a couple of minutes he went to knock on the bathroom door, "can I come in?" Peter asked. You opened the door while brushing your teeth in your pajamas. You gave Peter his toothbrush that you have for when he is over and soon enough you were both done and left the bathroom.

Peter practically threw himself onto your bed face first. He shuffled under the covers, "come here, love." He was leaning on his left side, and he had outstretched his right hand, you climbed into bed and he wrapped his right arm around you. "I've missed you today," he hummed. You looked up and saw his eyes barely open, but he was smiling, "I've missed you too, what did you do today?" He gave a light laugh, "you know that old lady who gave me a churro last month," you nodded your head, remembering the old lady that insistent on giving Peter a churro after he walked her across the street. "I saw her today and she insisted that I meet her granddaughter." 

You hit his shoulder in disbelief, "No! What did you say?" Peter laughed and hugged you a bit tighter, "Well the old lady dragged me-" Your laugh cut him off, "in what universe could Spider-man get dragged by and old person, nevertheless a regular civilian?"

"she had her old lady fingers around my wrist i was scared if I moved or touch her she would turn to dust!” Peter tried to defend himself but ultimately you both just laughed. “Anyway so she finds her granddaughter and she looks petrified and the old lady pats my shoulder and says, 'I'll leave you to it' and then granddaughter says something like how she ‘does not like men’ and how she ‘needs to go to meet her date’."

"No way! did you just leave or what did happened with the old lady?"

"I was about to swing off but the old lady was like, ‘where are you going?’ and I just said that I already had a girlfriend, plain and simple”

“Your girlfriend must be really special if you turned down a lesbian for her.” You smiled as Peter kissed your lips, a sweet and simple peck. “Yea she is really special, the type of person you want to sleep next to. She’s the type of person you love, yea know?” You smiled at his comments, times like these always made your heart skip and beat and made you smile,

You kissed him softly, “yea I do know, I have this boyfriend that I love, the only thing though is that he keeps talking in his sleep and always wakes me up.” Peter blushed in embarrassment, “But he always talks about how much he loves me in his sleep so I don’t mind it that much.” Peter let out a happy sigh, “I love you so much Y/n.”

“I love you too Peter, good night”

“Night, love”

~~

let me know what you think :)