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im-sleepdeprived · 6 months ago

Note

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date��you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again.

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him. The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away.

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion.

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged.

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad.

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch.

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it.

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved.

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.”

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place.

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her.

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight.

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already.

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything.

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book.

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving.

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though.

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you.

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together.

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more.

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter.

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten.

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge.

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly.

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe.

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response.

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird.

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail.

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay. He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start.

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that.

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away.

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay.

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again.

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault.

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated.

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this.

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you.

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe.

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit.

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home.

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away.

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer.

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little.

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead.

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face.

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!”

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again.

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him.

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging.

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prongsiepotter · 6 months ago

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down bad | j. potter

summary: you're so in love with james potter but he's a little too good at giving you mixed signals that it might actually ruin you

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: angst, a little fluff if u squint, and so much longing & yearning. omg so much of it

a/n: i am unfortunately completely obsessed with taylor swift's new album, so everything i'll write in the near future will be based on one of the ttpd songs (yey!) & this one's based on 'down bad.' feel free to send requests if u want pick the next song for me x

──────── 𑁍︎ ‧₊°

"So he just said no?" Mary all but hisses. Marlene shushes her, glancing around the classroom before leaning down from where she's sitting on your desk.

"Are you sure it didn't mean something else?" She rests her hand on yours. "Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't…he just wouldn't, right?" You smile weakly at her, then shake your head. She squeezes your hand.

"The note was pretty clear," you say with a soft sigh. The sentence rolls off your tongue with unhidden bitterness. "Sorry, can't. Need to catch up on some assignments."

You would show it to them, so they could see for themselves and maybe divert their sympathetic gazes from you. But you had set it on fire right after reading it, just like the other two notes friendly rejecting you. You still aren't sure why you did it. After all, you did just tell Mary and Marlene that you're fine. At least you will be. You should not be this devastated over some guy.

Even if that guy is James Potter.

James who is now strolling into the room with his mates, looking as invincible and full of life as he always has and always will.

Quickly, you force a smile at the girls and pull out the chair next to you. Marlene, bless her, gets the hint and lightly shoves Mary's shoulder to have her take the seat. You're going through your book bag, pulling out your inkwell when four bodies make their way past your desk.

"Ladies," comes Sirius cheerfully loud voice as he bows at the waist because, of course, he does. Peter and Remus aren't as dramatic with their greetings. The latter, however, does take the time to slow down in front of you until you look up and return his kind smile. Belatedly, you realise perhaps you shouldn't have done that. You lock eyes with James, who's right behind him.

He sends you an easy smile and a wink. Like he's letting you in on another one of his rare secrets. You're not sure if you're smiling back, but it's almost a given that you are.

He takes his seat behind you, laughing blithely at a joke Pete just told, and it's all so painfully charming that you want to die. You fear he will always make you feel like this. Like you're somehow the chosen one. It's such a sickening feeling, you can't help but whip around and look at Mary, pleadingly. Though, you're not sure what you're pleading for anymore.

She shoots you another unbearably sympathetic smile, looking like she's close to cooing at you. You sigh, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.

You can't help but think how easy it would be to just cry right here. It's embarrassing to admit, but you've done it plenty of times over the weekend after you had seen James out at Hogsmeade with the others. Miserably, you had realised that he was, in fact, not too busy working on his assignments. He just didn't want to spend time with you.

You almost let out a sob.

A hand rubs your back and you know it can only be Mary, but you let yourself believe that it's the universe consoling you, as if to say there, there because there's nothing fair about this and she knows it, but there's nothing she can do it about now, can she?

History of Magic passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're in the library, pouring all of yourself into an essay that you normally couldn't have cared less for. But you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep yourself busy. You know your thoughts will stray the moment you're lying quietly in bed anyway, awaiting another sleepless night.

You finish the sentence and look up, satisfied with your work. Apparently it's been a while since you've torn your gaze away from the parchment before you, seeing how stiff your neck is. You knead at the uncomfortable knot in your shoulder while looking around the library. It's relatively full today with every other seat being taken.

Which makes it all the more irritating when your gaze snatches on a figure sat at the other table right across from you. He's not even looking up, head bent over a book, but you would recognise that mop of unruly dark curls anywhere. James must've seen you when he came in, but that might have just been your hopeful self speaking.

Begrudgingly, you resume your writing and it takes everything in you not to look up every few minutes. To glimpse the slight furrow in his brows and the small pout of his lips as he's carefully reading every paragraph. You know he's likely looking for something to prepare for a prank. Normally, you would simply go over and ask him what he's up to. You know he'd happily tell you. But you're glad to have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left that keeps you rooted in your spot.

Seemingly not enough though since all you can think about is that there's no way he doesn't know that you're right there. It really does make you want to bang your head against the table. Maybe that would finally catch James' attention.

Pathetically, you glance at him only to notice that he's packing his things to leave. The tip of your feather goes back to the parchment so fast, it almost pierces it. You haven't got a clue what you're writing, too busy tracking James' movements from the corner of your eyes.

You watch him stand up, walking down the length of his table towards the door down the hall on his right. Then he stops. You hold your breath. James seemingly hesitates before fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He turns left and walks towards you. You're staring at your hand as it writes illegible words, completely out of your control, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey," James whispers when you look up, giving you a familiar grin and small wave. It's an innocent gesture, sweet, but there's almost something hostile about this encounter. Like you have no choice but to let him occupy every single one of your senses. You stare up at him, a matching smile sweeping over your lips before you can think better of it.

That's when you notice the scarf he's wearing and its frizzled ends. It's yours. You know it is.

Did he not give it back to you after one of your nights out together on the stands? After you had flown on your brooms, so close to the sea of stars that you could've dipped your fingertips in them? You could almost hear the echoes of your windblown laughters as the memory pushes itself into the foreground of your mind.

James is sitting still, rosy-cheeked, watching you with curious eyes while you babble on about the Leo constellation. He had just told you that you could do whatever you want to him—another quite maddening thing to casually say to someone—and now he's apparently keen on staying true to his word by letting you wrap your scarf around his neck.

It took some convincing before he'd finally accepted it from you. You promised that you wouldn't be cold with your high collared sweater, but James only gave in when you had accepted his wool hat in exchange.

He had carefully put it on you, smoothing down your hair and pulling out some loose strands to frame your face, mumbling something about how much lovelier his hat looked on you than on him. You told yourself that he surely must've known what it did to you when his knuckles brushed your cheeks. Right? Surely.

James pokes your side, chuckling, as if he sensed that your mind was drifting elsewhere. He cracks another joke, saying that if you were the one to teach him Astronomy, he might actually pay attention in class. He says it like it's a deal and you feel inclined to do whatever it takes to hold up your side of the bargain.

You laugh helplessly, feeling drunk on a little bit of everything; the stars above, James' gentle laughter, the familiar smell of broom wax and crisp winter air. This must be cosmic love, you think to yourself. Your breath clouds in front of you, becoming one with his. All the while, you're too aware of James' shoulder bumping into you, his leg pressed against yours. There's no one out here but you two.

You have all the room in the world, but James chose to sit this close to you. Probably close enough for him to hear your heart pounding. Did he do it for a reason? You'd love to know.

"You don't need me to pay attention in Astronomy," you find yourself saying in response, something daring laced in the drawl of your voice. His eyes flash, bright and a bit wild. It's the same look he gets after you challenge him to a race on your brooms. His grin grows wide, carefree, and oh so lovely.

"Please." His face comes impossibly closer and you lean in without another thought, eager to take whatever it is James will give you. You feel his breath on your lips.

"I will always need you, Y/N."

Somehow he makes it sound genuine.

Then he winks and leaves you a horrid, forsaken mess. Somehow he makes that feel like a nice gesture too.

Incredulously, you stare at him as he leans back, elbows resting on the seats behind him. James Potter, you think weakly, what are you doing to me? Not for the first time you ponder what you would do if you can't have him. You almost double over from the striking pain in your chest.

Then he points out another constellation and you nearly forget all about yourself. He's good at that. Never ceasing to show you that the world is bigger than the two of you. Making you forget and remember that you might be in love. Because what if you were in love?

James cups the back of his neck, then points towards the door of the library, almost shyly letting you know that he's leaving. You nod slowly, still dazed. A small smile crosses his lips before you watch him round the corner, his back disappearing from your sight.

You blink, letting out a ragged breath. You feel like you got the wind knocked out of you. Like you just lost your twin. Someone who knows you like no one else ever will. Someone who might just be your better half. Someone who sometimes makes you feel like they want nothing to do with you.

It's ridiculous, you think bleakly to yourself, you're so down bad.

And James Potter makes it feel like a curse and a blessing.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #marauders fanfiction #marauders #taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department

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heartpascal · 2 years ago

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you’ll find the key

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: part five of if the door wasn’t shut — after feeling hopeless, you decide it’s time to heal

▹ — a/n: guys, i apologise for the wait! usually it doesn’t take me so long to write but this was a bit of a struggle!! i hope it lives up to any expectations :( i love you guys sm <3 pls leave ur thoughts + feedback and if u would like to see anything else in this series !!!

▹ — warnings: bad mental health, arguments, like two much needed hugs, so many apologies (my brain is failing so please tell me if there’s anything i’m missing!!!)

▹ — general taglist: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours

masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

check out howl’s song associations!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was still storming outside.

Snow was coming down in heavy bouts, swirling all over the place with the force of the wind, and it was almost a goddamn blizzard. The ground was covered in it, and if it weren’t for the people already out in the streets, using shovels to dig away the snow in front of doorways, you were sure everyone would’ve gotten snowed in.

Not that you were going anywhere, anyway.

You hadn’t left Jesse’s side since you had gotten back to Jackson, after Tommy had a talk with you. They told you he was going to be absolutely fine, that all he needed was rest and to keep the wound clean. You still worried about him.

Part of you, despite knowing that what happened wasn’t your fault, still felt guilty. Out of the two of you, you were the more experienced one, and you should’ve known better, right? Should’ve caught wind that something wasn’t quite right sooner? You should’ve done something, protected him better, maybe?

You didn’t know exactly what you could’ve done differently, and you tried not to think of the possibilities, because the last thing you needed was to drown in guilt when you already felt bad enough.

Tommy’s chat with you hadn’t helped, either, and you know it was only because he cares, but it still hurt. The way he had looked at you, so angry, and scolded you for going back out there, for going after Joel when you and Jesse had barely made it out yourselves. He had called you irresponsible, which you would’ve argued against, if you hadn’t felt so guilty over the events of the day, if you hadn’t been worrying about Jesse.

You didn’t want to think about him being right, about how you could’ve gotten Jesse killed today, or yourself, god — Joel could’ve died, trying to save you. But was that really your fault? You wondered if everyone blamed you for Jesse getting hurt, as much as you blamed yourself.

“Are you really brooding, right now?” Jesse croaked, startling you from where you stood at the window beside his bed, staring out at the swirling snow. You turned to him, seeing his raised eyebrows, and felt almost thankful about the annoyance that arose when he looked smug, like he was right. “Unbelievable!”

“I’m not brooding, you asshole.” You murmured, unconvincingly. Jesse grinned, shaking his head at your denial.

“Oh, you so are.”

“I should’ve let them finish the job.” You responded flatly, breaking into a smile when Jesse laughed. The quiet lingered for a moment, both of your smiles slowly falling as the weight of everything that happened registered between you. “I’m sorry.”

Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, his fingers picking at the edge of the blanket settled over him. “For what? Saving my life?”

“No, Jesse, I should’ve never put us in that situation. Especially after Pete left. I know better.” You replied, stepping towards the guy who had quickly become your best friend. You shook your head, eyes flickering around the room, until they settled on him. “Tommy took me off patrols, anyway, so.”

“What?” Jesse questioned, mouth hanging open. “Why?”

You stared at him, blinking in your confusion, and you tilted his head back to check his eyes were focused, that he wasn’t concussed, or something.

“Do you not remember what happened?”

“I remember just fine, thank you.” He responded, eyebrows creased as your hand left his forehead. Both of you wore incredibly confused expressions, neither knowing what the miscommunication between you could be. “Why would Tommy take you off patrols?”

“Jesse, you could’ve died.” You said, watching his face for the reaction, as if the information was new to him.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault! You’re the one who saved me, who got me out. I don’t understand.” Jesse said, voice raising as he got slightly heated. He lowered his voice when he sat up, and pulled at his stitches, hissing in pain.

“No, I got us into it, and I was lucky to get us out.” You told him, as if it was a confession, and you frowned. You didn’t want to think about what could have happened to Joel, didn’t want to say that for once, the world had been on your side, letting you get him out, too. You didn’t voice it, but you don’t know what you would’ve done with yourself if he had died, trying to save you.

Jesse shifted, voicing your name, but you stopped him, smiling tightly in his direction. “It’s fine, Jesse. It’s for the better. Besides, means I’ve got more time to do my pottering.” You teased, though the words didn’t quite reach the way your teasing usually sounded. “Anyway, Dina showed up.”

“What? Why? Did she actually?” Jesse asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked to you with suspicion, like you were about to be making fun of him.

“‘Course she did. Whole town knows what happened, and she was worried about you.” You said with a grin that didn’t meet your eyes.

“The whole town?” He questioned, shutting his eyes and dropping his head back with a groan when you nodded your confirmation. “My family are so going to kill me, aren’t they?”

With a laugh, you reached forward to mess up his hair, “Oh, Jesse, you sweet thing. We’ve already devised a plan on how we’re going to do it.”

He slapped your hand away, glaring, but a smile pulled at his lips. He knew it wasn’t true, knew you were just entertaining his dramatics. What he didn’t know, was that his family had already been in, had already scolded you for getting their golden boy into trouble.

You moved back to the window, seeing a man across the road had given up on shovelling the heavy snow away from his door. Something heavy had settled on your chest, and you took a deep breath to try and get some oxygen past it. You didn’t blame Jesse’s family for what they had said to you — if you had been in their position, you probably would’ve been the same. They hadn’t quite approved of you, anyway, so you didn’t take it too personally. You were more than aware of everything you had done wrong.

Somebody cleared their throat in the doorway to the room, and you turned away from the window to see Joel stood there. He nodded his greeting to Jesse, a tight smile on his face.

“C’mon, kiddo, Tommy wants you to head back to the shop.” Joel said, repressing the sigh that wanted to leave his chest when you only nodded, stepping away from the window with a final glance outside.

“Well,” You said to Jesse, trying to muster up your best smile, “Duty calls, I guess. Feel better soon, okay?”

He called your name when you walked away, passing Joel as he stood beside the door, but you ignored it, feeling that weight grow heavier. Joel followed after you, a frown on his face.

You knew the route out already, and figured Joel was just the messenger, but he followed along, a few steps behind you as he limped on his injured leg. The wind was harsh when you opened the door, and you shivered when snow was immediately blown in your face. You lingered in the doorway, both hesitant to go out into the awful conditions, and feeling bad for leaving Joel hurrying on his bad leg.

Joel didn’t say it, but you knew he was here because Tommy didn’t want to see you. You couldn’t say you were surprised — not after just how angry Tommy had gotten. His face had been red, the steam pouring from his ears practically melting the snow around him, and it was the first time he had ever yelled at you.

“You doing okay?” Joel asked, hesitantly, as he paused in the doorway beside you, watching you as you wrapped your coat tighter around you. He knew that nothing was fixed, not even close, but there was something.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You replied, and he could hear the exhaustion in your voice, the way it pulled on your words. It was easier to hear than it was to see, but he just caught the slump to your shoulders, the way you held your eyes shut for a moment, before going to brave the snow.

He walked beside you as you headed towards the ceramics shop, your pace a touch slower than usual. You shoved your hands in your pockets, eyebrows creasing when you realised you must’ve taken your gloves off at some point. You tried not to sigh when you realised that they were probably lost, and just decided to chalk it up to another disappointment in an incredibly frustrating day.

When you arrived at the ceramics shop, it was a mission to get through all the snow that had started blocking the door. You would probably be snowed in, by nightfall. Joel helped you get rid of as much of it as possible, his gloved hands doing most of the work after your bare ones become too numb to continue.

You opened the door, feeling heavier than you had in months, and left the door open as you moved to the back of the shop, turning on the heater that sat there. You let your hands linger in front of it, just gritting your teeth at the sting that followed from warming them too quickly.

Joel lingered in the doorway, frowning at you, and furrowed his eyebrows as he called your name, watching your turn to face him. “I’m sorry.”

You gaped at him, stunned.

“You should have gotten a choice. It wasn’t my place to decide that for you, or to leave without havin�� a conversation.” He continued on, his words jumbling the slightest bit. “I still think you stayin’ was the best thing for you, the safest thing, but for whatever it might be worth, I am sorry.”

When your silence lingered, Joel nodded tersely, and stepped away, smiling tightly as he left the shop, shutting the door behind him. You blinked at the closed door, unsure what to do, unsure if you should have said something. But even if you should’ve, what would you have said?

It wasn’t okay, not in the slightest, and everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Tommy wasn’t speaking to you and Maria would be more than upset with you, too. Jesse was in the infirmary, and that was on you. And even as you looked around the ceramics shop, all you saw was cracked paint on the walls, and dust that settled no matter how many times you wiped it away.

Hell, even the misshapen plates and bowls on the shelves just made your chest hurt. You didn’t feel any sort of pride for this place, anymore, and it was painful. It stung at the deepest parts of you, and you just settled down on the dirty floor in front of the heater, holding your head in your hands as you blinked back tears.

Why did you think you could do this?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Initially, you didn’t intend on avoiding Jesse.

In fact, you had plans to go and visit him the day after everything went to shit. It was just that when you opened the shop door, the outside looked far too unfriendly, and you knew his family would be in his infirmary room.

Perhaps it was a cowardly move, staying at the shop, locking the door and pretending the outside world of Jackson didn’t exist. Really, you were going to go and see him the next day. Swore to yourself that you would. But when the next day came, you didn’t even attempt to unlock the door to leave, figuring that it would be best to just leave him and his family to it. Dina was probably with him, too, so your absence wouldn’t be felt all too much.

Each day you said you would go, started with you justifying your staying in the shop. It went the same way, waking up and thinking you should go and see him, but the moment you got into the front of the shop, you thought better of it.

You blamed it on everything but what it actually was. Whether that be the snow, the heater in the shop that broke, the concept of him having quality time with his family… you used it all to reassure yourself that he didn’t need you by his side.

Besides, you knew he wouldn’t be in the infirmary for long. And by the fifth day, there was a knock against the shop door, barely heard over the howling wind outside. You remained in the back room, telling yourself it was probably nothing important, and after the heater broke, you couldn’t afford to open the door, anyway.

Even with the door closed, your breath misted in front of your face, and you had to rub your hands together more than once to generate heat, especially considering you seemed to have misplaced your gloves.

On day six, you kept all the lights off, and didn’t bother to poke your head around the doorframe to see who was knocking at the front door. After a few moments of loud knocking, his voice called out your name, and you were sure he was likely squinting through the shop window, trying to catch sight of you.

You barely even noticed the way you held your breath so it wouldn’t cloud the air, and alert him to your presence. You pretended the harsh exhale after he left was just a sigh of exhaustion. In some ways, you guessed it was.

By day seven, he knew what you were doing.

��Open the door,” Jesse yelled, still knocking wildly against the wood, and you were sure he was peeking in the window, too. “I’ve been to Tommy’s, the dinner hall, the greenhouses, the stables, hell — I even went to Joel’s. I know you’re here, stop hiding.”

You stayed in the back room.

After a while — much longer than you expected, especially given the still-awful weather — Jesse gave up, leaving the door at last. You frowned at the empty can of food in front of you, chest aching from the cold and everything that had happened over the past few days.

You hadn’t left the shop in the past seven days, surviving off of the short supply of long-life food in the cupboards. But that was your last can of it. As much as you knew you would have to leave, have to go get some more food in order to survive, you still didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want them to see the shame that was so visible in the curve of your frown, the dip of your brows.

It made it easier to hide, knowing Jesse was the only person looking for you. There had been no sign of Tommy or Maria, which pained you, but didn’t surprise you. Part of you wondered if they’d ever speak to you again, but you didn’t want to linger on the question, too afraid of the answer.

It was day eight that you had no other choice — the temperatures were dropping even further, and with no heater it was becoming too cold for you to take. The need for heat and food led you to the dinner hall, which was surprisingly empty, and you settled at your usual table with a plate of cooked food, feeling the chill that had begun to settle in your bones fade.

Most people would be staying inside their homes, the cold too much to bear, so you were surprised when Ellie waltzed into the hall, eyes scanning the room as she made her way over to grab herself some food. You dipped your head when she began looking in your direction, and clutched at the fork in your hand, holding your breath.

“So you are alive.” Ellie drawled, settling down in the seat opposite you with her plate in front of her. “You know your friend has been coming ‘round for the past few days, won’t leave us alone.”

You shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

She sighed, poking at the food on her plate. “Thanks for going back for Joel, by the way.” She pretended not to see the way your head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as you looked at her.

“I wouldn’t leave him to die out there,” You said, after a moment, the words hesitant as they left you. “Especially when he went to try and help me.”

Ellie nodded, shoving food into her mouth, and you quickly followed her action. The silence between the two of you stretched uncomfortably, and you hated how everything had changed. Why couldn’t they have just let you come with them? Why did they have to push you so far away?

“He’s a good guy,” Ellie said, a frown on her face. “He makes stupid decisions, but only because he cares about us.”

You looked at her, wondering when the two of you had grown up. You remember the jokes you had shared during your travels, the way she had been able to make you smile even when doing so seemed impossible. She had made life in the apocalypse almost bearable, and now here you were, sat at the same table, but miles apart.

“Maybe, but you were right about one thing. I don’t know what happened, so if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” You told her, instead of acknowledging her words about Joel. You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about any of it.

It would be painful, you were sure, to hear about everything they had experienced. You could guess that a lot of it wouldn’t be pleasant, and it would likely hurt to hear about all the things you had missed out on, all the things that maybe you could’ve protected them from. But you were willing. It wasn’t forgiveness, it wasn’t a ticket back to being in each other’s lives, but it was progress.

And progress was all that you could offer, so it would have to do.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” Ellie said, a tight smile on her face as she looked at you, her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at your words.

You nodded, and the two of you ate in silence.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

After stocking up on some more long-lasting cans of food, you were prepared to hunker down in the shop for a while longer. You hadn’t been able to trade for another blanket like you had hoped, but you weren’t all too surprised. With the stormy weather, everybody wanted more warming supplies.

You had survived worse conditions, though, in worse places. One harsh winter in Jackson wouldn’t kill you, even if your heater was broken, and you still hadn’t found your gloves.

The shop door was locked once again, and you had taped the bottom of it to try and stop the cold draft from seeping into the room. You considered bunkering down in the back room, taping the door shut and staying in there with all the blankets and layers you had, but you thought better of it. You wanted to be able to hear the front door with ease, still on edge after the ambush with Jesse, especially considering the raiding attacks that had slowly begun to ease off.

Despite whatever had gone wrong, however angry Tommy may be, you knew he’d rely on you if the time came. You were sure of it. Everything the two of you had built couldn’t have been toppled by this one event, right?

Your gun was still laid by the shop door, and your ammo never left the jacket you always wore. Just in case. If anything were to go wrong, you wanted to be ready.

The call of your name shook you from your racing thoughts, the contemplation of everything that could happen pausing as your head snapped up. Maria’s voice was loud, and she hadn’t knocked. You didn’t have a surname — didn’t know whoever came before you long enough for them to tell you, didn’t know everyone who came after long enough for them to share their own. So she settled on your first name, yelling it loudly.

“Open the door!” Maria demanded once again, kicking the bottom of it with her foot. “Come on, open it. You’re not fooling anybody, and it’s freezing out here, little Troy can’t stay out here too long.”

With a sigh, you stood. She knew how to get to you — bringing baby Miller was a harsh plan, especially because it gave you no choice but to let her in. Not that it was much warmer in the shop than it was outside, but she didn’t know that.

You unlocked the door, pulling it open just to fit yourself into the crack of it. Facing Maria was terrifying, because you didn’t know what to expect. Even as she held on to baby Troy Miller, who was bundled up in more layers than you could count, she was totally unpredictable. She could be in a motherly mood, or that merciless Jackson council member.

“Hi,” You said, nervously. “What’re you doing here?”

She raised her eyebrows, stepping forward until you’d opened the door for her to step inside of the shop. Maria’s stern expression immediately fell, and you could feel nerves building in your stomach.

“Is your heating out?” She asked, turning on you suddenly, harshly. When you nodded meekly, she handed Troy over to you, not faltering even when you opened your mouth to voice your confusion.

He babbled at you, a toothy grin on his face, and you held on to him tighter. It hit you then, how much you actually cared about these people. Your brain short-circuited when you thought about something bad happening to this family, and it made you feel sick. Suddenly, you were regretting the meal you had eaten with Ellie.

“Well, I think Jeremy should be able to fix it up.” Maria sighed, standing from where she had crouched down to inspect your broken heater. “But he’s way busy with other heater issues. Come on, you’ll stay with us.”

“Maria.” You urged, repeating her name another time when she didn’t answer you, too busy thinking about options and solutions, as always. “I’m fine. Go home.”

She sighed heavily, turning to you with that stern look she’d been wearing since the moment you were left behind in Jackson. “I know you and Tommy are going through a rough time, but he loves you, and if he knew you’d been living here with no heat?” Maria shook her head with scoffed laughter, not reaching for Troy even as you offered to hand him back, instead moving to pack some of your clothes into a bag. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“It’s not my home, Maria,” You said softly, perhaps the softest she had ever heard you.

It was disquieting, at the least, for you to behave in such a way. Throughout the whole time Maria had known you, you had been sharp edges and bitten words, even when you had grown to care for them, that hadn’t changed all that much. It was a constant, your stubborn attitude and harsh nature, always slamming doors shut too hard, always charring food when you were unsupervised, because you’d turn the heat up too high. You were impatient, practical, realistic. You weren’t soft.

Maria’s face curved into a frown, and she stopped her presumptive actions in packing up some of your things. She looked at you, looked at the lines that were beginning to dig into your expression, looked at the way your shoulders slumped as you held on to her son.

“Maybe not,” Maria offered, and looked around at the shop that was not as pristine as the last time she had seen it, before looking back to you. “It could be, though.”

You shook your head, sighing but not finding any relief from the action, only feeling the same tightness to your chest. “I’m not a Miller.” You said, and it was true, because the space behind your name remained as empty as ever, that absence something you had felt your whole life.

“You’re as much a Miller as I am, as he is.” Maria reasoned, gesturing towards her son in your arms as she looked at you. She didn’t want to say too much, didn’t want to overwhelm you, but you had practically been adopted by the two Miller brothers. Two men who were so far from perfect, who made so many mistakes that they almost lost you, who cared too much. Hell, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it, you had adopted their mannerisms and tendencies.

It showed in the way you held Troy, the same stance that Tommy used. It showed in the frown on your lips, that looked far too much like Joel’s to be a coincidence. The furrow between your brows reflected Joel and Tommy’s own, a crevice built from worrying and frustration and anger. You reminded Maria too much of how Tommy had been when they first found him — eyes glassy, lost, and without purpose.

She had seen the change in you since you had been left in Jackson, so many ups and downs, but you had been doing better. And now, here you were, looking more lost than you ever had.

“That’s not true, Maria.” You replied, tense. It wasn’t true — Troy was a Miller by blood, and Maria was a Miller by marriage. Both choices that Tommy had made. It wasn’t the same for you, it couldn’t be. Tommy had never chosen you — Joel had dropped you in his lap before running away, and didn’t that make you the furthest thing from a Miller?

“It is true.” Maria refuted, stepping forward to hold a hand firmly against your face. “You’re a Miller, no doubt about it. Now come on, we’d better get going. Got a lot to talk about.”

She was finishing shoving your things inside of the backpack at her feet in a few moments, and was swinging it over her shoulder before you could protest, making her way out of the door. Holding her son, what choice did you have but to follow?

The two of you were silent on your journey to Rancher Street, and you felt the nerves bubbling up from your stomach, leaving an unpleasant tingling in the back of your throat. It was tense, though that could have been all from you. You were still holding Troy, having him half buried in your jacket to make sure he wouldn’t be cold, despite the fact your jacket wasn’t the warmest.

When you arrived to her house, Tommy wasn’t there. She didn’t say anything, so you didn’t mention it, much preferring to ignore the issues that would likely arrive whenever he returned. Instead, you settled Troy down, removing some of his layers at the rush of warm air that came the moment you stepped through the door.

Your hands were tingling, in a strange state between feeling and numb after the sudden temperature change. You settled them under your legs when you sat down on the couch, Troy at your side as Maria clambered about the kitchen, having already dropped your bag down beside the sofa.

When she came back, it was with a steaming mug that you recognised — one of your very own design. It was a dark green, close to black, and had your poor recreation of a bear on it. You remembered thinking it was going to come out brown, remembered the shock when it was green.

She handed it over, and you used the hand with slightly more feeling to take it from her, holding it close to your chin to allow the steam to flow over your features, warming your nose. “So,” Maria said, drawing your attention from where you’d been keeping an eye on Troy, keeping the hot mug away from him. “First, you and Tommy fight, and then you ignore your best friend?”

You stared at her, teeth clenched in shock, and recalled the way Ellie had mentioned the boy. Clearly, he was pestering everybody who knew you. Maria’s eyebrows raised, looking expectantly at you.

“‘M not ignoring anybody.” You murmured, voice catching in your throat as you spoke, and you took a sip of boiling hot tea to get rid of the lump that had formed. The burn soothed you, in a strange way, warming your insides the slightest bit as you breathed steam.

“Mhm, is that why he’s been ‘round here, bugging us ever since he got out of the damn infirmary?” Maria asked, expression tightening slightly as you winced, and knew she had got you.

You shook your head, moving your other hand from underneath your leg to cradle the mug in both palms, breathing a relieved breath at the warmth finally reaching your fingers. “Doesn’t know how to stop, does he?” You said, moving your eyes to the swirling drink in the mug, not looking up even as Maria hummed. “I’ll tell him to leave you be.”

“Ah, but that would require talking to him, which you clearly haven’t been doing.” She told you, a slight teasing lilt to her voice, to make it seem less serious than it truly was.

Maria remembered the night you and Tommy had arrived home, with you shoving at his shoulder whilst he laughed loudly, a bright teasing smile on his expression. It was probably the lightest she had ever seen the two of you, with Tommy not feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders for just a moment, and you smiling like you hadn’t faced unspeakable things. She remembered the way you had scrambled to correct Tommy’s statements, whacking a hand against his forearm when he interrupted you.

She remembered Troy waking up from where she hadn’t long settled him down, and remembered the way you had immediately gone to calm him down after hissing a “Look what you’ve done now!” at Tommy, who had only laughed.

Maria remembered the way her head had settled against her husband’s shoulder, exhausted to her very bones, motherhood feeling much harder than she remembered. Especially with her aged bones, keeping up with a baby was more difficult than she remembered. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he could actually run around. Maria had just been grateful to have you there, to be able to rest with Tommy, trusting you to look after her son.

You challenged her motherly instincts, sure, but Troy was on another level — it was a lot more to deal with when your child wasn’t basically self-sufficient.

“I’m going to,” You said, though there was doubt in your voice. “I am.” You repeated, as if that would solidify your statement, as if it would make it any more truthful.

“Listen,” Maria sighed, saying your name, and waiting for you to look up from your mug before she continued. “I know what happened on that patrol. I know. And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, so why are you ignoring Jesse?”

You swallowed, scratching a fingernail over a small crumb of clay that hadn’t gotten smoothed down before being fired. “I just… I care about him, and he could’ve died, Maria. Tommy was right, I—I was irresponsible, and I could’ve gotten us both killed.”

Maria shook her head immediately, picking Troy up when he began to fuss, and she stopped you. “No, Tommy was speaking from a place of anger. Of fear. You did everything right.” She affirmed, staring intensely at you, as if daring you to argue against her. “Except, maybe, going after Joel, but I know why you did that. I get it. If I had been in your position, if it were my…— I would’ve done the same thing.”

“I just didn’t want him to die, because of me.” You said, voice quiet again, and Maria’s heart ached for you, something squeezing so tightly in her chest that it physically hurt. “I don’t want Tommy to hate me forever, either.” You added after a few quiet moments, eyes following a bubble around the edge of the mug.

“He doesn’t hate you, kid, not at all. He was scared, he didn’t want to lose you.” Maria reasoned, but you still didn’t feel better, not after just how angry he had gotten. Not after he had practically shoved you out of his sight, the moment he was done yelling, unable to even look at you. Not after he had sent Joel as a messenger, refusing to speak to you himself.

“Maybe,” You offered, because it was the best you could do. You couldn’t agree with her, couldn’t disagree, either. The only person who would actually be able to decide those things was Tommy — and he was nowhere to be found. “I’ll talk to Jesse.” You decided to say, in the end, hands gripping tighter on the mug. Just saying it aloud made it seem all the more real, and you regretted it a moment afterwards, thoughts stuck on what Jesse would say, what his family would say.

“Good.” Maria said, nodding at you, “He’s a good kid, he deserves to know his friend is still here.” She stood to her feet, heading to the kitchen with Troy in her arms, waiting for her to feed him.

Twenty minutes later, when Maria had gone upstairs to put Troy down for a nap, the front door banged open, a rush of cold air being let in.

“Maria!” Tommy yelled out, his voice panicked, and you could hear him shuffling through his bag in the still-open doorway. With furrowed brows, you placed the cold mug down on the floor beside the sofa, standing up and making your way to peek into the hallway. “Maria, you here?” He shouted again, more desperate this time, and when you finally saw him, you saw that he had snow still clinging to him, and he had brought clumps of it in on his boots, slowly melting puddles on their floor.

“Tommy?” You questioned quietly, both not wanting to speak to him, but also getting increasingly concerned by his behaviour. His head snapped up to you, and he blinked in surprise, his shoulders slumping and hands pausing in their rummaging.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy said, approaching you quickly and wrapping his arms around you tightly before you could get a word in. You blinked, shocked, and slowly wrapped your own arms around the man, who just held your head closer to him in return. “You scared the shit outta me.” He admitted, a slight tremor to his voice. He breathed out a heavy sigh, arms squeezing, and you wanted to look at him to express your confusion.

“Is everything okay?” Maria asked, a slight panic to her own voice, but she relaxed at the image before her. Tommy’s eyes opened as he rested his head on your own, and he looked to his wife as he nodded gently.

He moved away from you slightly, hands moving to hold your shoulders tightly, finally able to see your confused face. He sighed, his shoulders dropping like they had been holding the weight of the world. “I went to the shop, wanted to apologise. Couldn’t find you or your things, and it was freezing.” Tommy told you, his head dropping until his chin rested against his chest for a moment. “Thought you left.”

His arms pulled you back to his chest, and you didn’t resist him, though your heart was racing in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Maria frowned, “I didn’t know you were going. The heater’s broken, so I told her to stay with us.”

Tommy nodded again, his breath held in his chest as he let his heart rate calm down. You let him hold on to you until he was ready to let go, just keeping your face hidden in his shoulder as your arms wrapped loosely around him, fingers numb from the cold once again.

When he finally released you, you took a small step back, cheeks warm with remaining shame from your last conversation with the man. The rest of you, however, was freezing, especially since you had removed your multitude of layers in the warm house. Tommy frowned as you shivered, cursing under his breath as he turned to shut his front door, his frown deepening when he saw the water covering the hallway in front of the door.

He waved Maria away when she gave him a stern look, and she nodded once she saw his expression, smiling tightly at you before heading back upstairs to settle Troy back down, after he had been fussing from his father’s shouting.

Tommy turned to where you stood, hands wrung together to try and generate some more warmth between your digits. He sighed again, a seemingly very common thing for him at the moment, and he stood up straighter to talk to you.

“I’m sorry,” He told you, his voice reflecting his words in its apologetic tone. “I should never have spoken to you the way I did. Wasn’t fair of me to blame you for things that weren’t your fault. Or for me to judge you for doin’ exactly what I would’ve. What I should’ve.”

You stared at him, at the way his hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides, a slightly nervous habit, you had noticed.

“Tommy, you were right,” You responded, continuing on even as he shook his head, “I messed up, and I could’ve gotten Jesse, or Joel, or even myself killed.”

“No.” He said firmly, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders once again, his grip tight as if you might slip away. “I was wrong. You hear me? I should have been proud, proud that you were so brave, that you saved your friend and your— and Joel. I should have been proud that you made your way back, that you did it without some old shithead tellin’ you what to do.” He rambled on, shutting his eyes and looking almost regretful.

You ducked your head, feeling far too emotional, a lump formed in your throat at his words. Just somebody who you looked up to, who you trusted, telling you that you hadn’t done anything wrong… it was almost too much.

As many mixed feelings as you may have had over the whole situation, the most prevalent one was guilt. It had been surrounding you, weighing so heavily on you, hell, you didn’t even realise how much it had been pulling you down until Tommy came in, lifting it all off of your shoulders.

“You did good, kid.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders, and you hated the way your lip started trembling.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Tommy laughed, the sound watery and almost broken off, “You can cry as much as you want.” He pulled you in, feeling your arms squeeze around his middle as he held on to you so tightly, he was almost sure he’d never let go again.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Your closed fist was raised up to the door, a hair’s width away from making contact with it, but you had frozen. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

There was something that had settled heavily in your stomach, making your whole body feel heavy and slow. You felt, distantly, like you might throw up with the way it was sitting, but tried not to think on it too much. You were aware of the way your chest was rising and falling, almost too aware, and you tried to put it out of your mind as you attempted to steel yourself.

“You gonna knock, or are you just gonna keep standing there, looking stupid?” A voice asked from behind you, making you spin on your heels, fist pulled away from the door. You held a hand against your chest, breathing a heavy sigh as you saw the culprit of the scare.

“You’re an asshole.” You murmured, eyes studying your beaten up boots that were covered in melting snow. You looked up to him, and felt some relief when you saw Jesse crack a slight smile at your reaction. It faded far too quickly for your liking.

“So?” He prompted, eyebrows raising at you.

You frowned, repressing the urge to grumble at him, but you knew that he should’ve been the one angry at you. Hell, he probably was. “I just came to say… I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“Are you kidding?” You asked, annoyed. But when his expression didn’t budge, you sighed through your nose. “Okay. I’m sorry for ignoring you after the infirmary, and I’m sorry you got put into the infirmary at all.” You said, looking back down the where the melting snow was seeping into the hole at the side of your boots. You should probably get new ones.

Jesse didn’t say anything for a moment, and you picked at your fingernails while you stared at the ground, your nerves sending your pulse into a fluttery mess.

Finally, you heard him snickering, and your head snapped up. “Well, I just can’t believe this. You, apologising?” You glared as his smile slowly grew, though you knew that the whole thing wasn’t quite solved, at least it was good to know that Jesse was still acting his usual asshole self with you. “Come on, you little asshole.” He said, gesturing for you to follow him. You did.

He glanced at you every so often, shaking his head at your stoic expression.

The two of you arrived at the dining hall soon enough, standing in the queues silently whilst waiting to collect food, until Jesse nudged you and led you over to the table you so often shared.

“You do realise I would never blame you for something that happened on patrol, right?” He asked, eyebrow raised as he awaited your response, shovelling food into his mouth as if he was starving. He reminded you an awful lot of Ellie, in that way. You wondered if they had met.

With a roll of your eyes, “Well, now, yeah. Do we have to talk about this? I said sorry, didn’t I?” You murmured the last part, shovelling your own food into your mouth, refraining from rolling your eyes again when Jesse snickered at you.

“How could I forget? You prefer to brood rather than talk about your feelings.” He responded.

“Okay, I don’t brood—”

“Yes, you do—”

“And do you enjoy talking about… feelings?” You said, ignoring his interruption. He stared at your raised eyebrows, the expectant look on your face.

“Sometimes, I do.”

“Maybe when it comes to—”

“Dina!” Jesse said in a high pitched tone, cutting you off and looking at you with widened eyes. You looked behind you, seeing the girl of the hour approaching your table, an amused look in her eye. She nudged you with a grin as she walked past, sitting on your left and smiling widely at Jesse’s surprised expression.

After settling down, she looked back up to meet Jesse’s eyes. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You snorted out a laugh, not expecting to hear such an old expression coming from her — it sounded like something Joel might say. Jesse glared at you, unamused by the grin you and Dina shared.

“Yeah, Jesse.” You goaded, smiling at his indignant huff. “Not want to talk about feelings, anymore?” You asked. You leaned backwards as he swiped his arm out, trying to knock the cutlery from your hand as it was heading towards your mouth. Dina laughed at his failed attempt.

“So you two are talking again, then?” Dina said when her laughing faded, and you glared at the way Jesse grinned, unhappy with the fact he was telling her such things. You supposed that you couldn’t blame him — after all, you had spoken to Maria about it. It just so happened that Jesse was your only friend your actual age.

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Unfortunately,” Jesse mocked, making a face at you. “Somebody finally came to their senses!” He said, after he was done poking at his food as he frowned at you.

“Somebody is having regrets about it.” You responded in turn, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Back to normal, then.” Dina concluded, smiling when the two of you nodded. She didn’t know you all too well, but from the time she had spent with you in Jesse’s infirmary room, she was a fan. You clearly cared about Jesse, way more than you would admit, and she could admire that.

You looked at Jesse, “Back to normal.” He echoed, smiling at you.

You pretended that the sigh you let out wasn’t one of relief.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You should really clean this place up, you know.” Jesse commented as you unlocked the door to the pottery shop, his eyes scanning around the room, the chill to the air making him shove his hands in his pockets. He looked at the dust covering the surfaces you usually cut clay on and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy.” You replied, moving to the newly fixed heater that Tommy had brought over when he walked you back to the shop that very morning.

“Oh, yeah, avoiding me.” Jesse said, grinning mischievously when you shot him an annoyed look over your shoulder, focusing on turning the heater on, placing your freezing hands in front of it when it finally started shooting out some warmth. You sighed at the sting, just glad to feel your hands once again.

You sat down on a dusty stool, turning to Jesse when he sat down beside you, relishing in the heater that was finally working. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the best with… feelings.”

“No kidding,” Jesse snorted, his smile fading when you stared at him, deadpan. “Sorry, go on.”

“But I can say that I do care about you. Sometimes. When you don’t piss me off.” You told him, drawing in a shaky breath that filled your lungs with cold air. “I just… relationships are complicated, you know? And painful, a lot of the time. I didn’t wanna go through that again, I guess, but you’re persistent.”

Jesse smiled as you spoke, somewhat amused by your words, but even you could see the softness to it. The absence of that teasing edge his grin usually held. It was reassuring.

“If this is about Joel—” Jesse attempted, shutting his mouth when you cut him off.

“—It’s not about him.” You interrupted, quickly, the back of your neck feeling hot despite the heater being quite far from you. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know.” You added on, after thinking about it for a second. You generally tried not to think of Joel, or the whole situation with him and Ellie, but could it really have effected you that much? It’s not like Joel was the first person you had lost.

He was the first to walk away without a fight, though.

A small part of you fought that fact, because he came back. Did that not mean anything?

“Can I speak yet?” Jesse asked, a slight teasing lilt to his voice. It brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled despite the topic at hand. With a nod from you, Jesse went on, “Thanks. I’m just saying, maybe Joel isn’t all that bad. I’m not defending what he did, but the guy clearly cares about you.”

“So I should just— just forgive him? For leaving me?” You asked, looking at Jesse as if he had all the answers.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” He said. “Maybe you don’t need to forgive him. Maybe it’s time to just… move on with your life. Forget about what he did, and focus on what he can do. You miss him, don’t you?”

You frowned, looking away from the intensity of Jesse’s gaze. The two of you were friends, yes, and he was the closest friend you’d ever had, maybe besides Ellie. But being so open, it was strange. Likely the effect of the apocalyptic world you lived in, and perhaps it was another difference between that world and the little safe haven of Jackson, Wyoming.

“‘Course I do. He and Tess… they were everything I had.” You replied, your eyebrows creasing at the thought of the woman, at the memory of your life in Boston QZ. It made you realise that it had been a while since Maria had cut your hair, and Tess would’ve chastised you for not reminding her to cut it if you had let it gotten this long in Boston.

It all felt so far away.

When you thought of Tess, your heart ached. Though, it wasn’t quite the same as it had been on your journey with Joel and Ellie. You felt her absence, maybe more than ever, but it wasn’t all bitter. You felt… appreciative of her. She may be gone, but at least you got to have her for a time.

You really wished that she could’ve seen this place, though. You often wondered if she would’ve liked pottery.

Joel would probably know.

“Tess may be gone, but Joel isn’t. Not anymore.” Jesse reminded you, hesitant in his words. You realised that you had never really told him, or anyone, about Tess.

“Y’know, if Tess were here, she’d probably tell me to get over myself,” You laughed at the thought, a sad, watery laugh, but Jesse smiled with you despite not knowing the woman. “She’d kick Joel’s ass, though.”

“Is that even possible? Joel’s like… badass, man.”

“Nobody was more badass than Tess. She was awesome. Used to boss Joel around, all the time, she ran half of the smuggling underground at Boston.” You smiled when Jesse raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And she used to cut my hair. Always told me it was better to keep my hair short, even though she had long hair.”

“Bit hypocritical, isn’t it?” Jesse asked, humour in his words.

You shrugged, “Think she was just trying to keep me safe, in her own way. Tess didn’t want to keep me, to start with. Joel convinced her.”

The more you thought about it, the more you realised that it really was because of Joel that you were allowed to stay with the two of them. You remember hearing them argue on a few occasions, something about a great family that Tess knew nearby. But Joel had never let you go too far.

He’d told you about Tess’s family, though it wasn’t really his place to do so. He had done it in an attempt to comfort you one night when you were young, after you had gotten upset at Tess disregarding you yet again. Joel had explained that she didn’t like getting attached to anybody, especially kids, after she lost her own child. He had told you that it was what they had bonded over, at the start.

“Sounds like this Joel guy really wanted you around, huh?” Jesse said teasingly, only grinning when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut up, you asshole, when the hell did you get all wise?” You asked, glaring at him as he feigned an innocent look. You cracked first, smiling at his expression, feeling a softness to the grin as he matched it with one of his own.

“Distance makes the heart grow wiser, I guess.”

“It’s fonder, Jesse. It makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Shut up, I’m the wise one here.”

You looked at Jesse then, as the two of you shared a laugh, and you wondered if this is how friendship felt before the apocalypse, or if that warm feeling in your chest was exclusive to post-apocalyptic relationships.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“Didn’t think you’d be coming back here.” Joel commented gruffly as he made his way to the kitchen with a nervous energy about him.

“Me neither,” You said idly, watching him fumble around the kitchen. You wondered if it was just a Miller thing, being terrible in the kitchen. It certainly seemed like something Joel and Tommy had in common, but you hadn’t really thought about it when Joel had asked if you wanted some tea, in a bit of a panic at your presence.

He didn’t say anything in response to that, seemingly mulling your words over. Joel didn’t really know what to make of your presence, certainly not expecting to see you at his front door when he opened it.

“Oh, wait,” You said suddenly, causing him to look over to you in the doorway from where he had been about to put tea in the two mugs in front of him. You pulled your backpack around on your shoulder, digging through it for a moment before pulling out a bag. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between you and the bag, waiting for an explanation. “Look.” You said, handing it over to him.

He took the bag, opening it up and unable to help the grin that broke onto his face at the sight of coffee beans, the scent of them immediately soothing some of the man’s tension.

“Where’d you get these?” Joel asked you, his voice lighter than you had heard it since Boston. The sound of it made you grin, despite everything.

“Found ‘em on a patrol, a while ago. Been hiding them from Tommy, so don’t tell him.” You responded, realising that this was probably the lightest conversation you and Joel had held for a very long time. How long had it been?

“Wouldn’t dream of it. He’s a thief, always has been.” Joel said, smiling. “Right, the tea.” He said after a moment, placing the bag of coffee beans beside the mugs he’d set out.

You snickered as you noticed the mugs, grinning as Joel turned to you in question. “Seems like Tommy’s not the only thief in the family.” You said, gesturing toward the white and orange mug he’d placed down, recognising it from the batch you’d given Tommy and Maria.

Joel, at least, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed about stealing the orange coloured owl mug you had made and gifted to his brother. Either that, or embarrassed about getting caught. It had slipped his mind, really, more of a habit to grab it out of the cupboard, considering it was the one he used all the time.

He opened his mouth to try and craft some sort of defence, but felt any words he might’ve had die on his tongue as he turned to you. Seeing you smiling, well, it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You often smiled at Tommy and Maria when he caught sight of you with the two of them, hell, you smiled a lot around that friend of yours, Jesse. Joel even remembers the times you would smile back in Boston, even though life in the QZ was much harder than life in Jackson.

But it had been a long time since Joel had seen you smile in his presence.

Each time you and Joel interacted after he had left you behind, your face had a way of falling, of crumpling in on itself before it hardened, staring at him with an expression of stone.

It had his heart aching in his chest, finally seeing you smile around him. He hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, after he stayed silent for a moment too long, the smile on your face fading into something of confusion. Joel shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts, clearing his throat and offering up his best smile in return.

“Nothin’,” Joel answered. “Nothin’ at all.”

You let his response linger in the air between the two of you for a few moments, and it seemed that the both of you were thinking of how life used to be. You were a long way from Boston.

“I could’ve made you your own, y’know.” You said, after a the silence stretched on, reaching out and picking up the mug he had stolen, looking at all the imperfections that had seemed invisible, all that time ago when you had made it. You’d like to believe you were much better in your craft, now.

“I like this one, just fine.” Joel responded, plucking it from your hands with a raised eyebrow. You snickered at his actions, moving to look around the kitchen, missing the soft grin stretched over the man’s face.

“God, you fixed that?” You asked suddenly, taking a wide step to look at the slight imperfection on the countertop, where you remember carving a deep gash in the material one night by shattering a particularly heavy plate upon the counter. You were almost sure it wasn’t fixable, that perhaps it could look better, but would always be extremely noticeable.

Joel nodded, back to his task of sorting out tea, but spoke when realising you were faced away from him. “Oh, yeah. Took me a couple tries, though.”

You hummed in response, going back to looking around the kitchen that you remembered so well. Most of the damage you had caused on the room had been fixed, which created a strange feeling in your chest, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was. Relief? Disappointment?

It wasn’t as hard to be in this house as you had expected it to be. You were awaiting that crushing feeling in your chest, that emptiness that left your ribs aching. Surprisingly, you felt… light, almost.

Joel didn’t know exactly what to expect.

On one hand, he wanted to feel hopeful, to belief that this would be the beginning of your relationship with him healing. But then on the other hand, he was reminded of just how much he had hurt you, of the tears that had spilled from your eyes when he had left you behind, the grit of your teeth when he had returned. He tried his best not to expect anything at all, to just remain… happy that you were here, in this moment.

Even if there were no other moments like this one.

He tried not to focus on how much that thought hurt.

“You and Ellie settled in, then?” You asked, trying to fill the silence in the room. There was also that part of you that wanted to know, that wanted to know everything.

Joel repressed the sigh that built in his chest. “Gettin’ there. She, uh, she’s had a tough time, but you know Ellie. She loves to be gettin’ into everybody’s business.” He refrained from looking in your direction when he asked you the same question. “You settled in alright here?” He wanted to add more on, but thought it best not to try his luck.

“I guess so.” You responded, thinking of how different your life was now, to how it was back in Boston, or even to how it was when you were on the road with Joel and Ellie. “It was… tough at first, but Tommy and Maria were good to me. And I got the shop, so.”

“And that boy?” Joel asked, trying to remain casual, though you heard the suspicion.

You smiled at his question, at the way he avoided looking at you. Back in Boston, when you had been much, much younger, Joel had tried to get the thought into your brain that boys were bad. He was protective of you, and distrustful towards the world. You couldn’t blame him.

“Jesse? He’s, uh, he’s my best friend.” You told the man, shaking your head at the way his shoulders relaxed the smallest bit. “He’s a good guy, you know. I care about him.”

As protective as Joel was, though he knew that he didnt really have any right to be, he couldn’t deny that it was nice that you had a friend your age. That you could count on someone, could trust someone, out of your immediate circle. He remembers that you had been lonely in the QZ, with only him and Tess for company, nobody your age that you could speak to or trust.

It had been a relief, almost, when you and Ellie had developed a friendship on the journey. Joel only hoped that the two of you could have that again.

“I’m happy for you, kiddo.” Joel responded, the nickname coming out almost like a reflex, like it was involuntary. It was what he had always called you, though, so you weren’t surprised.

“Jesse, uh— it was actually Jesse’s idea for me to come here.” You said, and Joel couldn’t deny the relief that spread through him when you didn’t immediately reject the nickname, or pull away at the sound of it.

Joel floundered for a moment, looking for something to say, eventually settling on uttering a quiet, “Sounds like a smart kid.”

You smiled, taking the mug off of Joel as he finally finished making the tea, avoiding your eyes. “I guess.” You replied, cradling the warm ceramic mug tightly in your hands. “Somehow, he seems to know what I need to hear, before even I know.” You said, humour coating your fond tone.

Joel smiled. “Sounds familiar. Tess was always like that, with me.”

It was one of the first times Joel had openly mentioned her name since she died. For some reason, it made your shoulders feel much lighter, like the burden of not being able to talk about her had been weighing you down.

“I miss her.” You confessed, looking for his reaction.

“I do, too, kiddo.” Joel admitted, his words softer than you had ever heard them. You thought about what it must’ve been like for him, to lose the companion he had held as close as he dared for close to two decades. You couldn’t imagine.

You hesitated, opening your mouth, before closing it again, only going ahead when Joel gave you a reassuring nod. “You knew her much better than I ever did.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you think you could… I don’t know, just— just tell me about her, one day?” You asked, the hope in your words making Joel’s heart ache.

“‘Course. I’ll tell you whatever you’d like to know.” Joel said, smiling gently at you, nodding his head towards the living room, a soft look on his face as he sat down beside you on the couch. “Ask away, kiddo.”

You were quiet for a moment, feeling lighter than you had possibly your whole life. “Do you think she’d like pottery?” You asked, sharing a knowing smile with Joel. He laughed at the concept, something so amusing about the idea of Tess Servopoulos, the renowned smuggling boss, sitting in your shop and making dinnerware.

“If it was with you, I reckon she’d have liked anything.” Joel responded, something truthful to his words.

You smiled, and asked more about her.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

if the door wasn’t shut taglist: @sleepylunarwolf @am-i-shit-or-am-i-the-shit @mandowhatnow @aphrcdites @doodlebob-mp3 @rrickgrrimes8 @nikt-wazny-y @fallenoutofrose @wrathofcats @kakimakiloh @pinkpurplepuffs @ameagrice @optimisticprime3 @httpjiikook @hnslchw @ioonatv @ackermanbitch @jay1bird23 @martinsmomo @brilliantopposite187 @calumhoodssidehoe @truthfuleeyours @code-roevember @cappucinolia @wrappedinfiction @angelmenace @your-shifting-gurl @gimalo135 @xaimary @v-linelicker @imonmykneessir @kayler-23 @dilfdemolisher @pedropascalslilbaby @rh1nestonecowg1rl @randomstory56 @ipadkidsworld @kobababysblog @wren-ly @morganfullaaa @theyoutubedork

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mind-lost-in-the-stars · 3 months ago

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a very minor thing about Richie’s death that’s bothered me for awhile now is how Pete and Ruth (I suppose Grace and Steph as well) don’t piece it together after it’s mentioned that Zeke the Fightin’ Nighthawk was murdered

clip for context

i will say that the digital ticket shows more remorse from both Ruth and Steph, but only after Richie is name dropped so yeahh…why didn’t they know Richie was the mascot when other people like Jason (and most likely Max) did? we also know him being the mascot isn’t a recent development after Max dies thanks to Jason’s “member of this team who’s gone unappreciated for far too long” line. that to me implies at least since the beginning of their senior year

a few ideas:

- he never told them because max threatened him is the theory that makes the most sense since “Jägerman doesn’t let nerds go to football games”, but this means he let Richie be the mascot for some unknown reason. was it to let Richie have a bit of happiness that Max still ultimately had control of. I don’t know, but it’s fun to think about

- it’s also very possible he never told them because he never had a reason to tell them, but Richie seems like the type of person to talk about the things that make him happy, and he clearly enjoys being zeke

-maybe max never knew, and Richie knew that if he found out that Max would beat him up for it, but this leaves the question of how Jason knows. if Jason knew and not Max, shout out to Jason for not being a snitch—love that man

- (take this one with a big ol’ grain of salt if u don’t like michie related things) there’s a chance that Richie being the mascot allowed him to see other sides of Max that weren’t just the bullying side which made Max grow on Richie even just a little bit. he of course wouldn’t want Pete and Ruth to know about this, so he kept that and him being the mascot to himself. Jon matteson mentioned once on a stream how out of the nerds Richie felt the worst about Max’s death and maybe that’s because he was (by process of elimination) the closest to Max in that group

- a sadder theory is that Pete, Richie, and Ruth actually just weren’t that close of friends. they all kind of just formed a group at a young age cause they were all labeled as nerds and sorta just stuck with each other through life cause they didn’t have anywhere else to go. I know it’s implied in “go, go nighthawks” that Richie being late to class isn’t abnormal, but for him to be missing for NEARLY THREE FUCKING DAYS and to have neither Ruth or Pete bat an eye either says something about them, something about Richie, but definitely says something about their dynamic as a group. (this is absolutely just theorizing about worst possible scenarios in no possible way do I see this one being the case)

I know it’s not a big deal like at all (and is a problem with a lot of other slasher media), but it always gets to me when characters move past the death of one of their best friends so fast just because a show needs to keep the plot moving.

*sigh*

either way, Richie deserved so so so much better and I hope he’s being held by Rei and Asuka in wherever the hell he ended up <33

#starkid #nerdy prudes must die #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #richie lipschitz #richard lipschitz #peter spankoffski #ruth fleming #stephanie lauter #grace chasity #max jägerman #jason jepson #go nighthawks #fan theory #I say that but rlly it’s just me yapping about how Richie deserved better

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lilacevans · 9 months ago

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𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝: 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

✧.* : ̗̀➛ dark!ari levinson x female!reader (non-descriptive)

✧.* : ̗̀➛ word count: 475.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ warnings: verbal humiliation, ball-sucking, references to face slapping, dirty talk, filthy ari.

✧.* : ̗̀➛ requested by: anonymous

✧.* : ̗̀➛ notes: the big one is here!! this one was really fun to write; although i do need to get better at writing dirty talk as idk i just struggle with it but that's the whole point of these little drabbles. if u have any pointers pls don't hesitate to drop them in my ask box, i always welcome help!! anyway! enjoy my ari lovin' besties!! pls lemme know what u think & check out the main masterlist if this is the first your seeing anything of this series!!

*this is an 18+ space. minors are not welcome here.

*this is a dark au. there are no happy endings here.

Ari sat, propped up by an assortment of pillows against the headboard, head tipped back; long sandy strands clung to the sweat on his brow.

Soft amber glows from the setting sun snuck in through the glass panes, covering your naked body with a fading warmth as you laid between his legs. Red lipstick smeared over your lips, cheek and chin; the same red lipstick covered Ari’s thighs in pretty kisses smudging under your fingertips as you kneaded his thighs as you lapped at the skin of his balls, letting out soft, muted moans that made Ari reply with pleased hums and chesty grunts.

Heat burnt across your cheeks and the burning remnants of Ari’s heavy palms on your thighs blended together. The hues of red smeared across your face was complimented by the muted pink of your tongue, skilfully rubbing at the underside of Ari’s balls before your lips parted to suck one slowly into your mouth.

‘’That’s it, Pup,’’ Ari groaned, slow and deep; hand stroking over your hair, his hand settling lightly on the back of your neck; the sudden softness from the heaviness of his hands earlier caused your head to spin. ‘’Such a good pup.”

You whined at the sound of his drawled praise, pleasure filled and throbbing core. Your hips humped at the sheets below you, hopelessly trying to find enough pressure to relieve the ache between your legs. Ari’s chuckle soon brought you out of your head as you peered up to find his gaze locked on you, a smirk pulled at his lips.

‘’Pathetic little Pup, humping the sheets like a bitch in heat. Live for nothin’ but to be used— nothin’ but hole,’’ Ari taunted, hand now gripping the back of your neck, drawing you closer to his sack. ‘’And you fuckin’ love it. You know you do. You’d waste days between my thighs, wouldn’t you, Pup?”

A pitiful whine escaped your throat as you were forced to lower your gaze from his intense stare, trying to sink into the sheets while keeping your mouth and tongue running over his balls.

‘’Tryna’ hide from me, Pup?’’ Ari teased, fingers finding your face to tilt your eyes back to him. ‘’Don’t go shy on me now,’’ Ari continued, teeth on show as he gleamed down at you. ‘’I know that slutty mouth can fit more than one in there; will stuff your mouth full if I have to.``

Ari’s threat made you push yourself, widening your mouth and using your fingertips to manipulate both of his heavy balls to settle against your tongue. Your eyes fluttered closed, moaning softly around the skin, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth; stuffed to the brim and overflowing with everything Ari.

‘’That’s it, get ‘em dripping, pet,’’ Ari moaned into the open air. ‘’You fuckin’ love it,’’ Ari repeated breathlessly as a hand disappeared from your hair and moved to fist at his leaking cock. “Gonna keep you there forever.”

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underoospeterparker · 11 months ago

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heyy!! ik u already wrote smth similar but could u write peter parker x reader with anxiety and he notices that they like fidget and wrong their hands and stuff when there’s feeling anxious or overwhelmed and he like lets them fidget with his hands (inspired by that one scene from The Bear) and/or comforts her and asks if she’s ok?? sorry that’s rlly specific lol, no pressure & i love ur work!!🫶

welcome to my 300 celebration!

"Hello?" you called out into the seemingly empty apartment, looking for your boyfriend. You slipped off your shoes and slung your bag on the chair closest to you. "Pete, baby, you there?"

There was a pause, a shuffle, and then a, "Hi, sweetheart," as Peter made his way into the living room.

"There you are," you murmured as he gave you a hug. "Missed you today," you said, voice slightly muffled by his sweater.

He smiled, chin propped up on your head, and then he pulled away slightly to give you a short kiss. "I missed you, too. How was your day?"

He pulled you down to the sofa with him, arm wrapped around your shoulders. You leaned into him, and started to fidget with your hands as you thought about how to respond to that question. "It was okay," you decided, after a long pause.

Peter wasn't sure you were telling the truth for many reasons. The first, and most obvious sign, was that he could tell you were anxious. Your hands were a dead giveaway.

He took your hands in his, warmth seeping from his palms to yours as he drew soothing circles on the back of your hands. "How was it actually?" he asked softly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

You sighed, leaning back into the sofa as you began to fidget with his hands instead, playing with his slender fingers. "Tiring," you finally admitted. "I have a lot to do," you murmured.

His face softened, taking one of his hands out of your vice-like hold to cup your cheek. "I know you do," he whispered. "And I'm always here to help. Whenever you need me." He paused, then joked, "Even if that means I have to loan you my hands for a while."

You giggled, and wrapped your arms around him this time. "Thank you."

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headkiss · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! Id love if you could write anything about peter parker? Maybe fluff or comfort 🤞

hiii thank u so much for your req!! i went with some roommate!peter fluff for this one, hope you enjoy <3 | 0.7k words

You’re no stranger to tossing and turning at night, to shutting your eyes and keeping them shut hoping for sleep to drag you under, and huffing each time that wouldn’t work.

It’s where there’s a bottle of melatonin gummies in the cabinet behind your mirror in the bathroom, only that bottle had been empty tonight, which has led to your being awake even later than usual.

On a normal night, you only toss and turn until you hear Peter come home, his window sliding open, him stumbling inside and cursing at himself as he goes, and the window clicking shut behind him. That way, you know he’s safe, that being Spider-man didn’t get him hurt this time around.

Only tonight, he’s been home and in his room for a couple of hours now, and you’ve yet to manage to go to sleep.

Frustrated, you toss your blankets off of you and pad into the kitchen, the lights from the city outside your windows guiding you over. You try to be quiet as you grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water, as if it’ll do anything to help.

No matter how quiet you are, though, Peter knows something’s going on.

His senses have always seemed to pick up on you more so than others, and though he tries to convince himself it’s just because you’re his roommate, he knows deep down that it’s because he likes you far more than on a roommate level.

The Spider-man side of him knows that too, which is why his eyes blink open in his bed as soon as you’re out of your own. Even in his sleep, there’s a part of Peter that keeps track of you, alerting him if the slightest thing is off. This time, it’s that you’re in the kitchen at 3 in the morning rather than in bed.

He rubs his eyes before tossing his blankets away from his body the same way you had only a minute ago, and heading out into the kitchen to find you.

You’re perched on the counter when he walks in, your feet kicking lightly beneath you. You’re staring down at your knees until you hear Peter’s sleepy voice gently calling your name, and your head picks up to look at him.

He’s got nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants on, and your eyes trail down his bare chest for a moment before you catch yourself. You always seem to forget how fit he is under his clothes, how the lines of his abs cut through his stomach in a way that somehow still makes him look soft, but never ever weak.

You flick your eyes back up to his face and hope the dark had kept your ogling hidden. “Shit, Peter. Did I wake you? Sorry-”

“No, you didn’t,” he says, walking over to lean back on the island in front of you. “My, uh, senses did. Wanted to see if something was wrong.”

Peter’s arm flexes as he scratches the back of his neck—a nervous habit of his you’ve picked up on—and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought of him caring enough to be nervous around you.

Your feet have stopped their kicking now, your hands squeezing the edge of the countertop instead, “oh. I’m okay. Just couldn’t sleep.”

Peter knows about your trouble sleeping (you share a bathroom, after all, and he’s seen your meds in there), and all he wants to do is help you in any way he can. It’s all he ever wants to do, really.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asks, fingers drumming on the countertop behind him. “Help you take your mind off things, maybe.”

“I don’t want to keep you up, too, Pete.”

“What if I want to stay up with you, honey?”

He’s called you ‘honey’ before, but something about the way it comes out now, all sweet and deeper with sleep, has your stomach rolling. How could you say no after that?

Peter let you lead him into your room, waiting for you to get in bed first to be sure not to take your preferred side. He slides in next to you as you reach for your laptop and pick a movie. He’s grateful you’re not the one with the superhuman hearing, because if you were, you’d be able to pick up on the way his heart’s racing right now.

Sure, you’ve cuddled on your couch before, even taken naps together there, but being in bed with you feels different. More intimate. Peter likes it a little too much.

And when a couple minutes into the movie, you shift closer and rest your head on his shoulder, he thinks that nothing’s ever felt so good.

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octuscle · 6 months ago

Text

Makeover

Mortimer not only had a shitty old-fashioned name, he was also simply shitty and old-fashioned. His clothes were actually often inherited from his father and grandfather. His speech was affected. And yet he was nothing but a small and insignificant clerk at the tax office. Totally career-minded. A pedant. A pain in the ass. Like his father. Like his grandfather.

But Mortimer was also a lickspittle and a pussyfoot. He never had the guts to provoke any kind of trouble with big taxpayers. Trouble only meant more work. But with small private individuals and small businesses, he loved to torment them when checking their tax returns. Especially those who didn't have a tax advisor had beads of sweat on their foreheads just holding his letter in their hands. And when they opened it and read it, they turned pale. Mortimer could almost jerk off at the thought. In fact, his little cock got hard at the thought.

The punks from the tattoo parlor were outstanding victims. The tax return was probably largely correct. But it was full of minor formal errors and implausibilities that could have been overlooked. But that was no fun for Mortimer. So he bombarded the owner of the studio with questions and requests to submit additional documents. As I said, the tax authorities would gain no further advantage from this. But Mortimer was able to exercise his little bit of power. But this time he would regret it. Bitterly regret it.

The conversation with his superior had been unpleasant. Pete, the owner of the tattoo studio, had made an official complaint. For arbitrariness, abuse of authority and a few other things. Probably one of the perverts who were his customers was a crooked lawyer, Mortimer thought. He didn't have much to fear from his boss. One crow didn't peck out another crow's eye. Nevertheless, he had been ordered to make a personal appearance at the tattoo parlor to clear up the loose ends. What a humiliation. He would get revenge for that too.

The studio smelled of tobacco smoke, leather, sweat, whiskey and disinfectant. A terrible combination that almost made Mortimer want to vomit. He went through the documents he had in front of him. No chance, everything was correct. Still, there had to be something. And quickly. It was Friday morning, he wanted to have his report written by 2 p.m. at the latest and leave for the weekend. The employees all looked like freaks. He asked Pete for all the employment contracts from the last 20 years. Pete looked at Mortimer… With piercing blue eyes. He took Mortimer's chin very firmly in his tattooed calloused hand, almost stroking Mortimer's face with the other. And then he moved his hand slowly towards his crotch. And then he gripped Mortimer's balls firmly. "Listen, you office boy! Everything is fine here. Got it?" The grip on his balls did not loosen. But his erection became painful. Mortimer nods. The grip loosened. Mortimer packed up his things. At the office, he would report the store to a friend from the health department. Pete had made a big mistake.

It was almost 11:30 when Mortimer arrived at the tax office. Lunchtime. People were running along the corridors and streaming towards the canteen. Mortimer actually wanted to eat straight away. But the call to the health department was more important. He had almost reached his office when his boss stood in his way. "So, all the problems with the tattoo artist sorted?" Mortimer was just about to answer when his boss laughed. "Mortimer, I wouldn't have put it past you. You and a piercing? Did you get that pierced to appease the taxman? Well, because it's Friday. But Monday without it again, please."

Mortimer turned pale. Yes, there had been something on his lower lip. He felt carefully. A cone protruded from his lower lip. One was through his nasal septum. And under the cone was something else under his lower lip. In a panic, Mortimer ran to the washrooms. He looked in the mirror. He looked like a freak! He no longer even noticed that he was unshaven. Mortimer reached for his cell phone and tried to call Pete's tattoo studio. Only an answering machine. Mortimer ran into his office and put on a face mask. He told colleagues who came by that he wasn't feeling well and wanted to protect them. They wished him a speedy recovery. But it didn't get any better. Mortimer nervously drummed his fingers on his desk and wondered what he should do. Then he noticed the tattoos on his knuckles. "Fuck" and "Yeah". In Gothic letters. Mortimer ran back to the washrooms. And threw up.

He didn't actually have to call in sick. He would have finished work in an hour anyway. But he had to get out of here. Immediately. He walked to the bus stop. It was a warm spring day. Nevertheless, Mortimer drove to Oxford Street first thing and bought a pair of gloves in the first store he saw. Should he go to the tattooist? But not now. The streets were full of people. And he looked like a freak. No, off home. And tomorrow at the crack of dawn to see that asshole Pete.

Something was different in his apartment. There was a half-full ashtray on the coffee table. And the fridge was full of beer. Surprisingly, this didn't strike Mortimer as odd at all. He took a beer, lit a cigarette and threw himself onto the sofa. What a terrible day. He began to cry with self-pity. And he fell asleep crying.

It was already dark outside when Mortimer woke up. The beer was warm and stale. But Mortimer finished it. The fag had fallen out of his hand as he fell asleep and had left another burn mark on the shabby old leather sofa. Mortimer burped. He was drunk and stoned. The piercings in his nipples felt good. Mortimer began to wank. He squirted on his Sex Pistol T-shirt. And fell asleep again.

The next morning, Mortimer woke up with an insane hangover. His apartment was a mess. Full ashtrays, empty beer cans, dirty clothes. What the hell had happened here? Mortimer collected the garbage while still half asleep and put the bin bags outside in the hallway. He had to pee. No, he had to piss. He went into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. He ran his tattooed hands through his greasy hair. He urgently needed to go to the hairdresser again. But first he had to piss and then take a shower. He pulled his 20-centimeter cock out of his no longer completely clean underpants. The scrotal ladder clacked as he did so. And the mighty Prince Albert shone in the light of the bathroom lamp. Mortimer felt dizzy.

Yes, the first thing he wanted to do was go and see Pete. But for some reason, his apartment was a mess. Mortimer took a shower first. He had to admit that the feeling of the piercings in his nipples, scrotum and cock was very sensual. But the steel had to come off. And he also had to do something about the tattoos. His fingers and the backs of his hands were covered in tattoos. He hadn't even seen his back and neck yet. When he felt clean again, Mortimer collected the dirty laundry. He made the beds fresh. He wanted to turn on the washing machine. But it was gone. Not just the washing machine, but the whole alcove. His bathroom was somehow smaller. And there was no washing machine or dryer. Mortimer stuffed the washing into an IKEA bag that he didn't know where it had come from. He collected the rest of the garbage. He washed the dirty dishes, because his dishwasher in his much smaller kitchen was also gone. It was almost 4 p.m. when it was finally clean and tidy again. Mortimer was satisfied. All he had been able to find in the way of clean laundry was a shiny red Adidas tracksuit, a pair of white Calvin Klein shorts, a white fine-rib undergarment, white socks and white sneakers. He looked silly. But it should be enough for a visit to the laundrette. He took the dirty laundry and the garbage bags and left the apartment.

The hallway smelled of cold tobacco smoke, beer and piss. The walls were covered in graffiti. From time to time, the roar of violent arguments could be heard from the apartments. Shit, this is a crazy dream, Mortimer thought to himself. This must be a crazy dream. The elevator was broken. So he walked the eight floors to the laundry room. Thank God there was a free machine. Mortimer took a laundry token out of his trouser pocket. He stuffed his dirty laundry into the machine. Damn it, he didn't have any detergent. A skinhead was sitting on one of the rickety plastic chairs under the no-smoking sign, reading a sports magazine and smoking. "Excuse me, could I borrow some washing powder from you?" Mortimer wanted to ask. But he said "Oi, sorry mate, could I nick some washing powder off ya? And a fag while you're at it?" The skinhead looked at Mortimer. He licked his lips. "Got yer tongue pierced too, you dirty pig?" Mortimer stuck out his tongue. And the skinhead took his cock out of his bleached jeans. "Then get on your knees and earn both!"

The skinhead only had a modest PA. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure for Mortimer to work his cheesy boner with his tongue. The skinhead steered his head into his curls with a firm grip. From time to time he pulled Mortimer's head far back into his neck and snotted in his face. Mortimer's cock built a tent in his pants. The skinhead squirted down his throat. Mortimer squirted into his pants. And the washing machine rumbled. ""Oi, cunt, fancy a proper haircut? Can't see any of them sick tattoos on your skull." Mortimer took a quick breath. What was happening here? He was standing in a full-weight tracksuit in the laundry room of a public housing complex, had just swallowed a skinhead's sperm and now wanted to get a haircut from the skinhead? Shit, how had he ended up in this situation? "I'm in 639, got beer and fags. Bring the rest, mate!"

The laundry didn't get really clean in the old washing machines. Mortimer threw everything onto his unmade bed. His apartment was a mess. But it was his home. And he was about to get a free haircut. Mortimer was rolling a cigarette when Liam knocked. He had brought the rest with him. The rest was a long hair clipper, a wet razor, shaving foam. And three buddies who couldn't wait to piss on the freshly shaved bald head.

Monday morning. Pete had asked Mo to take the missing documents to the tax office. Mo had actually worked at the tax office in the past. He knew his way around there. But he had been fired because Pete had allegedly bribed him to be gracious during the tax audit. In return, he had gotten some piercings and tattoos for free. But that was a hell of a long time ago. Now Mo was one of the most talented piercers in town. In the hottest studio in town. Actually, Mo could have afforded something better than the shabby place in the run-down high-rise complex a long time ago. But leaving his mates in the lurch? Not for the life of him!

Hot tf pic by @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #leather tf #skinhead tf #forced tf #revange tf #ai image

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sacharinee · 1 year ago

Note

hi m!!! what do you think about bf!pete getting his wisdom teeth out? and the reader taking care of him?? hed be so funny lmao xxD

-🧸

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader w/c: 750 a/n: hi anon!! thnk u for requesting i had sm fun writing this! :)

you’re sat at the dentist's office, cooped up in those uncomfortable chairs while you anxiously waited for your boyfriend’s surgery to finish.

when peter ranted and moaned nonstop over his constant toothache, may decided enough was enough, and took it upon herself to set an appointment for her nephew. he wasn’t too keen on the idea. peter wasn’t afraid of anything ninety-nine percent of the time. dentists, however, wasn’t one of them.

“can’t you stay here with me?”

“stay? baby, no they’re gonna be drilling in your teeth.”

“but i-”

“and it’s gonna be bloody and nasty and i don’t wanna have to see all that.”

you turn towards him, only to come face to face with the boy’s horrified look, his eyes are wide and skin pale, mouth open in shock. you cringe at your response.

“but,” you stand, “you’re gonna do amazing, you’re gonna sit here and let the dentist do his magic.” you smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead.

“y/n/n, wait but-” you drop his hand on the way out, “bye, love you baby! be good!”

“y/n!”

two hours later swing by when a woman in navy scrubs comes to get you, announcing that peter is out of surgery.

you knew that he would be high out of his mind on laughing gas, you just didn’t think it would be this bad.

when you enter, the dentist is off to the side, looking over charts, packing a care bag for his patient.

peter’s head lulls towards your touch on his shoulder and slowly blinks at your presence.

“hi baby, how you feeling?” you give him a beaming smile.

your boyfriend does his best to muster the same grin, but the amount of gauze in his mouth makes his rosy cheeks puff out, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth.

peter takes a moment to stare at you, “woaahh” he languidly slurs his words, “you’re so pretty.”

you giggle at the comment when the boy gasps in horror, “wait, wait, i have a girlfriend, and she’s-” he looks up at you worriedly and slaps his forehead, “i’m in trouble.”

you can’t help but let out a laugh, he’s so dopey.

your fingers touch the bottom of his chin gently and lift his head, “i’m your girlfriend, silly.”

a loud gasp escapes peter as his face turns ecstatic, “get out!” you giggle at his reaction, the dentist glances over at you two and offers an admiring smile.

“so do we have sex?”

the awkward silence in the room kills you.

your face blushes, as you shake your head and clear your throat, “peter, no.”

“no?!” he sighs in disappointment, “aw man.” your boyfriend pouts at the floor, “what have i been doing with my life.”

“oh my god, pete,” when the dentist turns away, you whisper and offer him a shrug, “sometimes we do.”

the delight on his face returns and his eyes go wide, “really?!”

the boy seriously has no filter.

as you’re packing his things, peter pauses and pokes his cheeks, “wait y/n,” he pauses, “my face kinda feels weird.”

you look around and hand him a mirror from the counter, “oh my god…” peter gingerly touches his face as you kneel down at him, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“my face… it’s so fat!” he’s got tears in his eyes and whining with a jutted bottom lip, “y/n,” sniffle. “will-” sniffle. “will you still love me if my face is so fat?”

you roll your eyes and smile at his antics, “of course, i would.”

he seems pleased with your answer because he’s back to smiling. you go back to packing his things. “hey, mr dentist,” he woozily slurs, the gauze is practically spilling out his mouth, “d’you know i’m spider-man?”

you mentally facepalm at his obliviousness and mutter, “jesus christ.”

you turn to the older man who’s chuckling at his mental state and shrug, “he also thinks he’s luke skywalker from star wars.”

“but i am!-” “okay bug boy, lets go.”

“where we going?”

“home, sweetie.”

he gasps eagerly and raises his eyebrows at you, “to have sex?”

“oh my god.”

soon after the dentist explains and hands you everything he needs to recover, you guide peter to the car.

he’s extremely dramatic.

he’s got his hands around your shoulders, dragging himself on the floor, acting like he can’t walk - which he definitely can.

“peter, i know you can walk. c’mon help me out,” you beg.

“no, i can’t" he moans, "carry me,” he demands.

“what? no,”

“why not?”

“because you’re too heavy.”

and he’s crying all over again, “i knew it! you hate me 'cause you think my face is too fat!”

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bruisedboys · 2 years ago

Note

…..tasm!peter x shy!r. yes. but……i imagine peter gets really excited for you when you do things for yourself like a dork. like ordering for yourself or asking for help at the stores finding something. it’s so basic but peter knows you struggle so he just gets really excited 4 u.

screams and cries!!!! he’s so lovely I’ve died. why would u do this to me aerial

shy!fem!reader 0.7k words

Peter’s nowhere to be seen. He said he’d only be a minute getting strawberries from the fruit aisle. He’s been more than a minute. And now you’re stuck in the freezer section wondering where on earth they keep the ice cream cones, and why on earth they’re not next to the ice cream.

A worker is stacking tubs of ice cream not far from you. Normally you’d get Peter to ask for help, or he’d just do it for you without you having to ask. Either way, Peter’s not here. And your ticket to finding the cones for ice cream night with Peter is standing halfway down the aisle from you.

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet, striding up to the worker before you can psych yourself out.

“Um.” You clear your throat. Your heart is pounding. “Excuse me?”

The worker turns to look at you. She makes eye contact with you and you forget to speak for half a second before remembering what you’re doing.

“Um, sorry to bother you.” You offer an awkward smile. “But could you tell me where the ice cream cones are?”

“Of course,” she nods and smiles. “They’re just in aisle three, with the toppings.”

You smile at her, relieved that you haven’t muddled your words or embarrassed yourself too much. “Thank you so much.”

You turn on your heel, hot faced, and walk about two steps before you bump into something tall, firm and Peter shaped.

You gasp and almost stumble backwards, but Peter gets his hand around your elbow before you go falling to your demise.

You look up. Peter’s grinning wide, his fingers curled around your elbow.

“Hi, pretty,” he says. His hair is falling into his eyes. He’s got a punnet of bright red strawberries in his other hand. He’s so lovely it makes your chest ache.

“Hi,” you beam. “I found out where the cones are.”

“I saw that,” he says knowingly, nodding behind you towards the worker you’d spoken to. His hand pushes down to your forearm and squeezes. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You give him a look like you’re not totally adored by him right now. Like your heart hasn’t just swelled twice as big. You pretend to be offended.

“Were you standing here the whole time?” You ask him, eyebrows raised.

He has the decency to at least pretend to look guilty.

“Well …” He rubs the back of his neck. “Not the whole time. I came right when you were asking her and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You huff. “Right.”

Peter lets go of you and steps back. It only lasts about a second. He takes one look at you and changes his mind. He throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. He’s smiling so big you’re worried he’ll get stuck like that.

“What?” You ask, giggling and flustered from his attention.

Peter makes a happy noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and wraps his other arm around you until you’re circled in his hold. His punnet of strawberries squashed between his hand and your back. He hugs you so tight you can barely breathe, his arms like bars around your shoulders. You can’t say you care.

You’re breathless as you giggle into his chest. “Pete, what—?”

“I’m so proud of you,” he says before you can finish. You can hear his smile clear as day. He’s so earnest, so happy for you, it makes you dizzy. He dips his head down so his lips ghost over the skin behind your ear. It’s far too intimate for a grocery store. You’re too busy trying not to breathe too fast to care.

“Really, baby.” He’s murmuring into your skin and you can feel every word, goosebumps erupting underneath his lips. “You’re spectacular.”

“Pete,” you manage, hardly breathing. You push at his chest, your hands squashed between him and you, until he gives in and pulls away.

“Yeah?” He asks, head tilted like a puppy. His eyes are so bright is blinding.

“Let’s, um.” You take a big breath and try to slow your pounding heart. It doesn’t work. Peter notices too, you can see it in his smile that he knows how much he affects you. “Let’s go get the cones, yeah?”

“Okay.” Pete grins so wide his eyelashes kiss. “But can I have one more hug first?”

You indulge him. For his gain only, of course.

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biblio-smia · 1 year ago

Text

you fell first

pairing: (tasm!) peter parker x gender neutral reader

summary: best friends to roommates to best friends with benefits wasn't your best idea.

masterlist | requests are open!

warnings: fwb/mature themes, implied smut

"pete: are u busy?"

the corners of your lips threatened to turn up at the message and you bit your lip to suppress the smile desperate to form.

you watched as your screen darkened, the notification against your lock screen fading with it. you checked the time on the corner of your laptop. 12:38 am. one, two minutes passed and you "read" the text. three, and you were out of bed, laptop forgotten, phone tossed to the side.

it didn’t take long for you to leave your room and reach peter’s, the few feet of hallway between the two of your rooms convenient now, though it had led to awkward bumping in the first few days of navigating sharing a space together.

you knocked on peter’s door, an unspoken rule since the beginning, waiting until peter opened it for you. you remembered how he mentioned having a stressful day today before disappearing into his room. you were sure that had something to do with this.

the door swung open and peter appeared, in sweatpants and lacking a shirt and you knew immediately what it was he wanted. he waited a second, waiting for you to consider it, waiting for your decision.

your arms were around peter’s neck and his hands were on your hips as the two of you stumbled into his bed.

this thing with peter started about a month into living together. you were friends first; then came the benefits. though the two of you agreed quickly that was what you both wanted. neither of you were currently looking for a relationship and even if you were, it was simply illogical to date your best friend and roommate; emotional attachment was a line both of you tiptoed, but never crossed.

a relationship would be too much. what if you broke up and couldn’t salvage your friendship? a split would divorce the friend group, too. not to mention the apartment you two shared.

the thing you loved about peter was how true to his word he was. if he promised he wouldn’t make things weird between the two of you, he wouldn’t.

no strings attached, backouts at any time. free to date anyone else. no need to let the other person know. the two of you weren't dating - though the two of you never really looked for a way away from each other.

just don't fall in love with each other. though that was always the tricky part.

「 … 」

“peter!” you called from the kitchen, shutting the fridge with a sigh.

“yeah?” peter asked from the hall, peeking his head out wearily. it wasn’t often you said his full name.

“oh, shit,” peter mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “it’s sunday?”

“it’s sunday,” you confirmed, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’ll do it,” you sighed, moving to start grabbing your things.

“no, no, it was my turn, i have to do it,” peter argued, moving in your direction to get to his things first.

“it’s fine, i wanted to get lunch anyway,” you insisted.”

“no.” peter shook his head stubbornly. another thing he was great at being.

you sighed, rolling your eyes. you weren’t getting through to him.

「 … 」

you pushed the shopping cart along the isle (only with one hand - peter insisted on pushing you to the side and pushing the cart with you, too). peter checked the list the two of you made over the week, stopping occasionally and looking for whatever item needed crossing off next.

there was a strange feeling in your chest as you watched peter and from the nervous flickering of his eyes, you could tell he was picking up on it, too.

maybe it was a little bit of annoyance as peter’s elbow bumped against your arm, or maybe it was the fact that you could’ve enjoyed your favorite snack last night if peter had gone grocery shopping when he was supposed to.

or maybe, it was the way the two of you looked.

it wasn’t how anyone in particular was looking at you; rather, it was how they weren’t looking. you and peter looked like something you weren’t, pushing a cart together and pointing for peter to pull an item off the shelf when his too-quick eyes skipped right over it.

it all felt… weirdly domestic.

which was strange, considering the two of you lived together. but you realized now that the beginnings of your living together had been nothing but platonic and now there was more attraction than either of you knew what to do it. it was physical, entirely. mostly. maybe not as much as you pretended it was.

no. this was just a physical thing. a convenience thing. a “hey i don’t want to spend time trying to find a hookup each time i want to have sex” thing. a “sure, we’re friends, right?” thing.

no emotions involved. don’t look at peter like that. don’t imagine him kissing you like he does, but softer, maybe in line to check out or maybe while putting the groceries away - oh, god.

“ha! look! they’re restocking the cinnamon toast crunch. we wouldn’t have had cereal if i went shopping yesterday.”

“you wouldn’t have had cinnamon toast crunch. you are literally the only twenty-two year old i know that still eats a bowl of sugar for breakfast.”

“okay, like you don’t always steal a bite.” peter scoffed, nudging your shoulder with his. “plus, harry loves cinnamon toast crunch.”

“only because you indoctrinated him into liking them. it doesn’t count.”

“it totally does!” peter laughed, not missing the way you turned your head to hide a smile. you couldn’t stay mad at him for long and he knew it.

"hey, hey, look," peter said excitedly, picking something off the shelf, displaying it proudly as you turned back to see what he held. "can we get the miraculous ladybug cereal?"

「 … 」

"i can't believe how expensive the eggs are!" you grumbled for probably the fifth time that trip, shuffling slowly through the checkout line with peter. usually, you'd keep these complaints in your head, but peter had the unlucky pleasure of being by your side.

peter hummed his agreement and you wondered how he wasn't sick of your complaining until you realized his focus was elsewhere - like it usually was.

peter stretched and curled and stretched his fingers, watching his hand but keeping his eyes off you. very carefully, you placed your palm against his. peter's fingers clasped between yours and he started talking about lunch but his words went in one ear and out the other.

now your focus was elsewhere and the beat of your heart drowned out anything peter was trying to say. it wasn't until peter rolled the cart forward that you heard him again, ranting on about nearby places to get food and what he was in the mood for.

you nodded along and weighed in, normally, as if holding hands with peter was nothing out of the blue. the contact with him shouldn't have shook you like it did, considering he'd been physically closer much more often, but the feeling in your chest was starting to choke you and the weight of peter's hand in yours was making you sink.

the way peter bumped you as he moved to start checking out, the smile that he flashed you as he paid for all the groceries, the shake of his head as you tried to help him carry them.

oh, god.

「 … 」

"pete: hey are u busy?" "pete: i kinda need your help"

a knowing smile tugged at yours lips as you let out a playful sigh, falling on no one’s ears but your own.

“what do you need help with now, pete?” you mumbled softly, tossing your phone to the side and briefly considering removing a piece of clothing before heading to peter’s room. you ultimately decided against it, making the short trip to peter’s door.

you’d controlled yourself since that day in the grocery store. you gave it more logical thought and considered the situation with each possible scenario. you were content now and there was no use in fixing something that wasn’t broken.

(you did need some time distant from peter to get over the fluttering of your heart when you were near him).

(but it only took a few days).

you knocked softly on peter’s door, lip bit in anticipation. you were hoping maybe he’d kiss you first tonight. you could use a little stress relief.

the door opened to reveal peter, hair disheveled and half of an outfit thrown on. “hey,” peter smiled, stepping aside to let you inside his mess of a room.

clothes were strewn across almost every inch of floor and bed and you weren’t sure peter was planning on adding to the pile.

“so, i don’t know what to wear,” peter began, a little bit of rush in his voice you were doing your best to keep up with despite the change of internal itinerary. “and i have a date in, like, 30 minutes.”

your body immediately forced a smile, your cheeks straining as your lips trembled into place.

“oh my god, peter parker has game?”

peter laughed and turned his back towards you, giving your face a chance to drop and you a chance to be grateful he didn’t notice. god, what was wrong with you?

peter dug through a small pile of shirts, shrugging the one he wore off and replacing it with another. “i think it’d make you really happy to know i still don’t. she asked me out.”

“oh?” you asked curiously, biting on the inside of your cheek. “wh-”

“how does this look?” peter turned, modeling his cargo pants and a pink and white button up shirt.

“awful,” you said bluntly, moving towards peter and unbuttoning the shirt he wore (don’t think about how many times you’d done that before). “i thought i told you to burn this?” you forced your eyes from peter’s chest to his face, watching as he rolled his eyes and pulled the shirt off his arms.

“put this on.” you threw peter a white button up instead, followed by a nice blue sweater. “and these, please,” you said, handing peter his most flattering pair of jeans.

“thank you,” peter said as he changed and you shoved clothes off his bed to make room for yourself. “you’re a lifesaver.”

“i’m gonna start charging you. and i’m gonna make you pay me $20 every time you put on a bad outfit.”

“jesus, all the food i buy you isn’t enough?” peter grinned despite the question as he did his best to fix his hair.

you shrugged. maybe nothing would be enough for you.

“it’s gwen, by the way,” peter said quickly as he finished, messing with things on his dresser to avoid looking at you.

you were quiet for a moment, staring at your fingers on your knees before you forced a laugh. “i never would’ve guessed gwen liked you.”

“yeah, right?” peter chuckled a little awkwardly, glancing at you to double check the smile you stubbornly held on your face, as if he were waiting for you to crack. he only forced his eyes off you to glance at his phone and mumble a curse. “i gotta go,” peter mumbled, grabbing the last of his things in a hurry. “i should be home in an hour or two, but don’t wait up, okay?”

“yeah, okay,” you nodded, waving at peter as he left his room, door wide open and forcing you to watch his retreating figure.

you felt glued to his bed, staring into the hall and back at your own door, listening to the front door open and shut. it wasn’t until you heard the lock click and the slow fade of footsteps that you let yourself cry.

「 … 」

the soft click of a lock signaled peter’s return, the front door sliding open and closed. you could hear peter sigh as he locked the door and hung his keys and you couldn’t help but be angry all over again.

peter’s footsteps stopped between the two of your doors and you wondered why he wasn’t going into his room before you realized he had stopped in front of yours. he changed his mind, turned around, and cut the silence of the apartment with the soft closing of his door.

you hoped he wouldn’t noticed the pile of clothes you kicked earlier.

you turned over in your bed, staring at your wall through the darkness of your room, willing tears not to force their way out of your eyes as your breathing quickened. you would not let peter hear you cry.

your phone lit up beside you and you lunged for the distraction.

"peter: hey" "peter: are you awake?"

a part of you wanted to text him back, "no." but you knew that wouldn't get you anywhere. ignoring him would have to do.

"peter: if u are i need to talk to you” "peter: please"

you turned your phone down and flipped over, balling into yourself and listening carefully to peter shuffling around. his door opened and he stopped again, giving you a feeling he was listening just as closely as you were.

"you're never asleep by now," peter accused in the softest voice an accusation could be made in and you sighed.

you could never stay mad at him for long. and he knew it.

"come in," you said, quiet, but loud enough that you knew he heard.

your door creaked open slowly and the light still on in peter's room illuminated his figure, now dressed in an old midtown high shirt and sweatpants.

"you're gonna raise the light bill," you muttered half-heartedly from under your comforter, just to say something.

"sorry," peter said even though he wasn't. "you were ignoring me."

you hated how he was just standing in the middle of your room, as if he didn't belong there.

"i wasn't," you lied.

peter sighed and placed a hand on your legs as he sat, careful not to hurt you. he didn't move his hand and you hated how his touch was warmer than your sheets.

"can you just... tell me what's wrong?" peter pried carefully.

"nothing's wrong."

peter sighed, more frustrated this time. "i know that i hurt you-"

"so then why'd you do it?" you were sat up now, anger flowing through you again.

"well, because you didn't say anything! how was i supposed to guess how you felt?" peter said defensively, moving his hand away from you.

"then maybe you should've thought about what you said to me. you said you didn't want a relationship and especially not with a friend because you didn't want to split the group apart if anything ever happened. but it's okay when it's with gwen?" your voice was louder now and you didn't even try to hide the hurt on your face. you swallowed thickly, watching the way peter couldn't even look at you. "you could've just told me you didn't want a relationship with me, peter." your voice was quiet now, which somehow hurt peter even worse.

peter stood up off your bed, taking a few steps away from you before stopping. you got up to follow. he didn't get to stand there and say nothing.

peter turned and you almost felt bad for causing the distress in his eyes. "i didn't- i only said yes because i was starting to feel something for you-"

"so it's my fault?"

"no! no, just-" peter put his hands on your shoulders, willing you to calm down. "it's not your fault. it was mine. i said that, yes, because that's what i wanted at the time. and then you just... i don't know. did something to me. but you said you didn't want a relationship either and i didn't want to ruin everything so gwen asked me out and i just... said yes! it wasn't to spite you, i promise."

you looked into peter's eyes, soft and desperate for you to believe him. you could never stay mad at him for long. and you made sure he knew it.

your fingers found his face and his hands fell to your waist in a dance the two of you had done many times before but never performed quite like this. your touch was feather-light and peter handled you like you'd slip away at any second, yet like he wanted to take his time with you. like he wanted to do it properly.

"you know, gwen told me right before she left that i was the biggest idiot she'd ever met. she asked me out to try to get me to realize i liked you," peter laughed. "she kept bringing you up and listened to me talk about you almost the entire time. i mean, that's like, red flag number one."

you laughed and stroked your thumb against peter's cheek. "i think i could work it up to forgive you," you said softly, the complete 180 making your head spin.

"i'd do anything," peter mumbled, leaning forward like you were something he simply couldn't resist. and you were in a way, his addiction, always in the back of his mind. he was unable and unwilling to part from you and he'd take any little thing you'd give him.

"i don't need much," you promised, placing your fingers on peter's lips and effectively disrupting his route to yours. "when'd you start liking me?"

peter's eyebrows furrowed and he frowned but didn't dare move your fingers, even as he spoke. "years ago, probably. i just realized it that night you fell asleep after we had sex. the only night that you did. i don't know, i just imagined you always sleeping next to me, even though we live together-"

you laughed and so did peter, your hands moving to cup his face gently. "i realized it when you forgot to get groceries and we went together."

"that recently?" peter asked with a little bit a shock in his voice, moving to get a clearer look at your face.

"hey, it wasn't that recently. at least i kept my end of the deal. no falling for each other, remember?" you mocked yourself and peter's stupid little rule.

"yeah, whatever," peter rolled his eyes playfully, leaning in to finally kiss you.

peter's lips were familiar but the feeling he brought out in you wasn't. it was something like before but about a hundred times stronger, eager and restless and wanting more. you were hungry for peter, but for his soft kisses and his tender touches. you wanted his lips on yours like how they were now, telling you how much he needed you rather than how much he wanted you. you wanted an arm around your waist and a hand in yours.

peter broke the kiss and picked you up, placing you on your bed and crawling in after you.

"will you go out with me? tomorrow, 7 pm?" peter asked softly, knees between your legs and arms caging you in.

"i'll take a look at my schedule," you grinned, placing a soft kiss on peter's lips. "i think it says yes."

"dork," peter grinned, kissing you again and dragging you down with him as he landed on your pillows. his arms wrapped around you and your head found a place against his chest. you could feel the smile on peter's face, basking in the heat radiating off of him and the quick beating of his heart.

"pete?"

"hmm?" peter hummed and you could feel the vibrations of his chest. you pushed him flat against your bed, moving up so that your face hovered above his, your fingers finding their way to his hair and stroking through it gently.

"you're not sleeping here until you turn that light off."

"oh, my god."

682 notes · View notes

therealflickerman · 5 months ago

Text

Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part two

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

______________________________________________________________

chapter summary: You never want Peter Parker around, but you find he tents to show up whenever you need him most.

word count: 4.9k

chapter contents: reader is intended to be fem! , language, a little banter and a little fluff, reader is anxious and a mess, idk anything about american diner culture, these two r awkward idiots that don’t know how to be soft

note: poor pete just wants to be your friend, and poor reader is a disaster girl. I had so much fun writing this chapter I hope yall enjoy it!, thank u charlie for editing

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four (ongoing!)

Your earphones carry music to your eardrums, blaring at the highest volume possible, it's a feeble attempt to drown out your thoughts and you’re not quite sure it’s working. It crosses your mind that you should probably lower the volume sparing others in the library from the distraction, however, as you find yourself re-reading the same sentence for the third time, you can’t quite find it in yourself to care.

A groan slips past your lips, the heels of your palms find the sockets of your eyes and you sit like this for a moment before dragging your hands down your face in irritation. Your biology textbook sits on the desk in front of you, the annotated page, a testament to last night's productivity, mocks you with its perfection.

You’ve been at this since Eleven a.m. and you can quite literally feel your brain melting out of your head, it’s rare you have trouble studying, actually, you would go so far as to call it a forte of yours. You blame your recent bout of sleeplessness and curse how busy your brain has been the last few nights.

Sliding your sleeve just above your watch, you check the time, it reads ‘one twenty-six p.m.’. “Shit,” you exhale, scolding yourself for letting the time slip through our hands.

You look at the testbook with disdain, promising yourself at least fifteen minutes of study before your shift at the diner begins. You flip to a new section and pray a change of scenery will kickstart your brain into surrendering a bit more work, though you feel deep down that it’s a lost cause.

A defeated sigh escapes you, your eyes lock on the start of the page and you begin to read. The chapter talks of the immune system's response to pathogens and you recall touching on the topic in class. You specifically remember that day because Peter had ‘accidently’ spilt his milk all over your notes during one of his usual attempts to irritate you, despite the way his grin curled into that of a worried frown, and the way he had jumped into action, letting out frantic apologies, you’re not so sure it truly was an accident, though maybe that's what you’d like to think.

Your brows furrow as you realise you’ve in fact lost your train of thought once again, your brain had wandered off about a thousand times already that morning, but it particularly bugs you this time as it dawns on you that you are unable to escape Peter Parker, even as you sit alone with your thoughts. For a second your throat feels tight and you think you could cry from pure frustration, though you look to the library that surrounds you, there are a mix of silently working students and businessmen, and you decide you don’t want to be the deranged woman crying into her biology textbook at one-thirty p.m. the afternoon before her test.

You opt to take a deep breath rather than the later and you reread the line, taking a note on the sentence before completing the paragraph. You turn the page and you finally feel concentration begin to build.

A yelp slips from your lips as a book drops and lands before you with a soft thud, it breaks the still silence of the library, shattering the first string of focus you had managed since last night's study session. Your gaze shoots upwards and you’re met with the same big brown eyes you’ve become accustomed to.

“Enjoying your last-minute study session?” he plops into the chair across from you carelessly.

You struggle to hear him through your loud music though you quite like it that way.

Your eyes narrow and you rip your headphones out with a swift tug. Music plays from them softly as they’re discarded on the desk. “Peter-”, you start, and wish you had the chance to finish.

“I finished studying last night but,” he slides your textbook across the table, spinning it in his direction so he can read your annotations, “it’s good to see you putting in the work,”

“Peter, I am going to kill you” In a fit of irritation, you aggressively shove the textbook back to your side of the desk, you genuinely cannot believe your luck or lack thereof.

“That's not very nice,”

“You…” you spit loudly, wincing at the volume of your voice before lowering your tone, “are not very nice.” Your hand motions to all of him and your eyes narrow further in aggravation.

He mouths a humoured ‘wow’, and leans back in the chair with an arrogant grin and a cross of his arms.

“How did you even,” you find the words, “there are like twenty libraries in Queens and you’re

sitting across from me…” your arms crossed, “uninvited” you emphasise.

He shrugs with a grin and leans over, digging through his beat-up backpack.

He silently places his things on the desk, ‘just make yourself at home’ you huff ironically with an eye roll. He laughs softly at your comment as he pulls out a small pencil case, it's dark blue and covered in Sharpie doodles, then grabs the rest of his books, piling them on top of the one he had used to startle you.

“I thought you were done with studying” you deadpan.

He hums a laugh, “you can never be done with studying" he quips sarcastically.

You let out a breath of frustration as he continued digging through his bag.

“Look Parker I really need to focus-”

“Oh I wanted to give you this,” he mumbles, cutting you off and pulling a sheet of paper from the backpack, sliding it across the desk to you.

You look down at the page, it's a photocopied version of his messy, yet readable notes.

“Your bio notes…?” you look up at him and meet his eyes, “why?” your brows furrow further though this time fueled by confusion.

He hums, opening his book, “felt like being nice” he adds and you let out a humoured scoff.

“And you just somehow knew…” you correct yourself with a clearing of your throat, “Well, thought I needed these” You watch him, a brow raised in confusion,

“I can take them back,” he grins, meeting your eyes and reaching across to snatch them from your hands. You pull away, further furrowing your brow and begin reading the notes.

“What did you do to them,” you ask, sceptically as you skim the page. His work seems genuine, in fact, the notes are far more well-versed than the half-assed sheet of scribbles you’ve been working on and you swallow the insecure feeling you’ve grown used to.

He laughs, his smile growing as his hands pull back and raise defensively with a soft ‘nothing’.

You spare him a cautious eye with a shake of your head, continuing to look through the notes.

“Hey… look at this way,” his face turns earnest as he leans in to speak, you humour him, placing the paper down and giving him your attention.

“Now you won’t fail” he nods, the mask of seriousness slipping away as he breaks into a stupid grin.

‘Asshole’ you mumble to yourself softly, a gentle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and you shake your head.

He watches you carefully, satisfied with the faint smile that curls on your lips.

“Seriously though, how’d you know I’d be here?” your focus turns back to the notes with the raise of an eyebrow and the linger of a smile.

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair, “remember that one time in English,” he says in an attempt to jog your memory, his hand finds the textbook in front of him and he fidgets with the pages, “we were fighting about the best libraries,” you’re sure he’s right because the two of you fight about everything, “you said this one was your favourite, specifically this area because you like to look into the garden”

He’s right, you like to look out of the giant glass windows and watch people sitting in the library's garden, studying with their friends.

“And what, you wrote all that down in your journal?” you joke, watching as he laughs.

He hums nodding his head with a, ‘Yeah, wrote it all down in my personal diary’.

“No um,” he breathes a laugh, “I just have a good memory,” his eyes flick to meet yours, you exhale a sceptical hum, nodding your head in response.

“How else do you think I beat you in all those exams,” he smirks watching the grin tug at your lips,

“What, like the one on friday?” you mock.

“No like the one tomorrow” he retorts.

This pulls a laugh from your lips, you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

You hum as the laughter dies down, “you might’ve got me there” you say softly, letting up the teasing and your eyes leave his, suddenly very interested in your textbook. Unconsciously your lip slips between your teeth and Peter notices.

“Do you… want help studying?” he offers awkwardly, it’s unusual for him and your eyes flick up, sending a sceptical look.

You’re met with a genuine smile.

You beckon him towards you with furrowed brows, he leans forward, accepting your hand against his forehead, with a roll of his eyes and a sweet laugh.

“No fever,” you hum, “but you’re just not acting like yourself,” you mumble in sarcastic dismay and your hand pulls from his forehead, sitting back in your chair, you turn your focus back to your textbook.

"You're a regular comedian," he remarks dryly, a humoured smile never leaves his lips.

Your eyes keep on the page in front of you, “so I’ve been told” your voice drips with irony, pulling a laugh from Peter.

“So…” his words fade though you know what he’s asking, he bites the inside of his cheek watching you.

Your eyes drift to your watch before meeting his, they’re already staring at you.

“I truly, truly would love to you” you deadpan with a nod, “I would, but luckily for me, I have work in about ten minutes and my boss will wring my neck if I’m late” You give a wry smile, collecting your things.

A stupid grin stays curled on his lips, ‘yeah yeah’ he shoos you off with a roll of his eyes.

You’re satisfied with his reaction and push your chair into the desk.

“Thanks for the notes!” you tease, waving them in his direction as you head for the door.

______________________________________________________________

As dusk settles outside, the diner is left lit by the dingy light bulbs that hang overhead. Your eyes hurt from their flickering and you blink tightly with a shake of the head in an attempt at dulling the pain.

Balancing a coffee cup in each hand and a slice of hot apple pie on your left wrist, you tread cautiously, one foot after another, approaching an older couple on the far right of the diner. The heat from the porcelain kisses the tips of your fingers, both cups filled to the brim with boiling hot coffee, your eyes trace the black liquid, watching as it sways with each step you take.

“Here you are,” you give a sweet smile to the older couple, placing their coffees down and hiding a wince as your raw fingers place the hot plate of apple pie between the two of them. The wife thanks you sweetly with a smile and you ask if there's anything else you can help them with, to which they politely decline.

You offer a smile before turning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen, pushing open the swinging doors softly and slipping inside. You quite narrowly dodge a kitchen hand who’s balancing a towering stack of porcelain dinner plates, frantically apologising, you offer to help out but she swiftly brushes you off, rushing in another direction before you can finish your sentence.

You slip to a quiet corner of the kitchen, avoiding the preparation benches and bury your face in your hands for just a moment, an exhale of frustration slips from your lips.

“Hello!” Your manager's voice is grating as he calls your name, your hands drop from your face and you quickly turn to meet him, instead you’re met with clicking fingers inches away from you eyes, you recoil at his obnoxiousness with a flinch. “You’ve still got twenty minutes on the clock kid, get out there” his voice is raised over the sounds of the kitchen, he points to the kitchen doors and you send him a sheepish smile, ‘sorry’ rolls off your tongue but you’re not sure he hears, let alone cares for your apologies. Your expression drops to that of disgust as he passes by, heading to grab something from the freezers, and you throw the finger in his direction.

You push through heavy kitchen doors, and you notice the back of a man's head sitting in your section of the diner. Rushing to the booth, your eyes flick to your watch quickly and you make a mental note that you have around fifteen minutes left.

Your hand feels around your apron for your small notebook and pen and your eyes flick down to assist, “Hello welcome to Uncle Bills,” you find it and flip it open giving the man your name, “I’ll be your server today,” you plaster the usual cheesy smile on your face and look up to meet the eyes of the man you’re serving.

“What a surprise seeing you here”

“Parker…” your eyes narrow and you try to find the words, “Do you not have a job or like, anyone else to bug?” you genuinely wonder how it’s possible to see someone that you actively avoid twice in a day.

“That's not a very nice way to talk to customers” he quips, tilting his head to the side.

“Seriously are you stalking me or something,”

“What you didn’t know about that journal of mine?” he grins up at you, “the one with all that info about your favourite libraries” he laughs with a shrug, and mumbles a ‘thought you knew’.

You roll your eyes with a cross of your arms and turn to clean the table of an old trucker who had finished his burger.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he laughs out, “I promise. I didn’t know you worked here,” his face is sincere though that stupid grin remains.

You raise your brows at him and a beat passes.

“I just want a coffee,” he smiles sweetly.

“Okay” you exhale a sigh, “how do you like it”

“Just black,” he answers, “so um… when do you get off?”.

“In like ten minutes thank god, why?” you question writing in your notepad.

“Sugar?” you ask before he can answer and he shakes his head with a, ‘no thanks’

“Well, I just thought, maybe I could walk you home”, he offers with a hint of uncertainty

“What, is my address missing from your journal?” you joke, putting your notepad back into your apron.

“You’re just on fire today aren’t you” he teases.

“Aren’t I always,” you give him a sarcastic grin.

Before turning to get his coffee you pause a moment, meeting his eyes with a genuine smile, “Look Parker… thank you, for the offer but I’m… I’m just exhausted, maybe another time”, you nod and your teeth catch your lip picking at the skin as he responds.

He nods softly, “Yeah, for sure”.

You offer a pressed smile before turning to brew his coffee

You return just a moment later, lowering the near overflowing cup ever so slowly ensuring none of it spills.

“There you go,” you lean in slightly, “I found you our biggest mug, absolutely free of charge” you whisper with a wink, sending a sweet smile.

“My hero” he murmurs sarcastically, matching your low tone with a grin.

You let out a hum and stand up straight brushing your hands down your apron, “well I’m just about off” You smile and there's an awkward beat of silence.

“Hey you keep those notes I gave you safe, I heard they’re worth a lot” he teases, looking up at you.

“Hmm, I don't recall any important notes, I did throw away a sheet of paper with unreadable chicken scratch on it though”

He offers an eye-roll laced with amusement, wishing you a good night.

You return the sentiment with a sweet grin.

______________________________________________________________

Awkwardly, your hands fumble behind your back, untying your firmly tied apron. You grab your tips from the pocket and stuff them in your jean pocket. With care, you fold the apron neatly and slide it into the pigeon-hole designated with your name, swapping it with your jacket which you slip on.

The image of Peter's big brown eyes flash in your mind and you feel the all-too-familiar pang of guilt rising in your throat. Your teeth snag your lips as you frown slightly and for a moment you think you should have accepted his offer to walk you home.

You swing your backpack over your shoulder, taking a second to think, and release it’s likely you’ll catch him on your way out, you swallow your nerves and decide you’ll take him up on his offer.

You let your manager know you’re leaving and push through the kitchen swinging doors, expecting to see Peter still sitting at the booth.

Instead, you’re met with a half-drunken cup of coffee and a five-dollar tip. Your lips curl into a smile and you roll your eyes, ‘always the gentlemen’ you think to yourself as you pocket the money.

______________________________________________________________

The soles of your shoes tap against the floor of the subway, and you hum along to your music, resting the back of your head against the cool of the glass. The subway is quiet at this time of night having just missed rush hour and you’re more than grateful for the peace. The voice of the announcement system warns you that your step is the next, you hear it quietly through your music, opening your resting eyes.

You step onto the quiet platform, thankful for the more peaceful trip this time around. You walk slowly through quiet backstreets taking your time and mindlessly listening to your music, the volume is gentle, wary of the softly throbbing headache that you’ve acquired from the day. You hum along softly, and your teeth sink into your lip, occupying themselves.

“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore” a familiar voice calls out and a flash of red drops down next to you.

You jump slightly, turning to look at the man. “And I thought we weren’t scaring young women at night” You let out a breath attempting to control your heart rate, he laughs with an apology and follows your footsteps, walking by your side.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again?” you utter, though it comes out as a question.

He hums a laugh, “I just couldn’t stay away” he teases sarcastically.

“Seems to be the way a lot of people feel” you mumble with a grin.

“Elaborate”

“I’m fairly sure I have a highly dedicated stalker” you nod playfully.

He chuckles, “And what makes you think that”.

“You know that kid I was talking about, Peter?” you ask and Spiderman nods along, “well, he first found me at my favourite library and then walked into my job four hours later to order a coffee”.

“Sounds like we have a high-profile case on our hands,” he jokes and it pulls a small laugh from your lips with an eye roll.

“You know you sound a lot like him” you say matter-of-factly.

“You don’t know what I sound like” he retorts rather quickly.

“No I mean,” you think for a moment, “you’re both annoyingly witty”.

“I’ll take that as a compliment” he jokes with a satisfied nod.

“How does the um,” you raise your hand to your lips, “the voice thing, how does it work” you question with a small tilt of your head.

“It’s just a vocal converter” he nods.

“Like Ghostface in Scream,” you add and he nods.

“And the um,” your hand hovers over your wrist, and you contort your hand into his signature pose.

“Oh, here look” he stops the both of you and flips his wrist, a white web shoots onto the brick wall behind you.

“Try it,” he mumbles, your hand hovers over his wrist and he gives you a soft nod, encouraging you to press down on the sensor. You press the heel of his hand and a web shoots past you, sticking to the wall in one swift motion. Your mouth forms an ‘O’ as you mumble a soft, ‘woah’,

Spiderman watches you, a soft smile sits behind his mask. “So do you, like, have any actual powers?” you ask with a furrowed brow, “besides being a genius” you add and the irony draws a small laugh from the boy.

He hums a soft ‘hmh’, he shakes the web from the shooter and walks past you. You stand with crossed arms and watch as he climbs the walls, his hands and feet sticking to the vertical bricks. “So you can do that without the suit?” you call up at him and he gives a soft nod, releasing the wall and gracefully falling from the height.

“What else can you do?” you ask in awe, you had never particularly been a fan of Spiderman, you’d watched the news clips, and defended him when your mum questioned if his presence was ethical, though you’d never questioned, nor ever thought of, the logistics of his ‘powers’.

He lets out a laugh, “I have um, enhanced strength, agility, stamina, all that” he nods, “Oh and um, a tingle?” it comes out as a question and he tilts his head slightly.

“I do not want to hear about your tingle dude” you laugh with a disgusted face, he elbows you gently, with a, ‘Not like that you weirdo’. “No it’s like, I can tell when there’s danger,” he attempts to explain, “like, I know to duck before something hits my head”.

You shove your hand in your pocket, pulling out a scrunched-up receipt and throw it towards his head. His hand raises swiftly, catching the ball of paper, “really?” he questions before unravelling it, with a serious face and a hum he reads, “Hemorrhoid cream?”.

Your brows furrow and you quickly grab the receipt to see a grocery list of, ‘gum, Coke Zero and a KitKat’, you roll your eyes with a ‘ha ha, very funny’.

“So,” he looks down at you and the two of you make eye contact, “tell me about your day,” he mumbles as the two of you continue your stroll, you accept his offer once again.

“It was pretty boring… I studied for like god knows how long and got nowhere,” you grumble and Spiderman listens attentively. “Then, just as I was on a roll Parker interrupted me… but he gave me his notes so,” you give a pressed smile, “never will I ever tell him how much it helped me out but he is a lifesaver.” you nod.

Spiderman's lips curl into a wide grin behind the mask and he lets out a hum in response, ” Anyway my boss is an asshole,” you add with a, ‘but what's new’.

“What’d he do today?” he questions and watches as your eyes roll at the thought of your manager. He’s so intensely focused on you and for the first time since knowing you he’s able to take in the small imperfections on your face, he observes the slope of your nose and the way your mouth moves as you speak, and suddenly he’s all the more grateful for the guise of his mask then he’s ever been before.

“He’s just an asshole you know?” you ramble, eyes locked on the floor in front of you as your brain trails back to your manager's fingers in your face. “I mean he clicked in my face as if I’m like some dog,” you let out an angry huff, “seriously, get your dirty ass fingernails out of my face dude, and then he yelled in my face!” you take in a deep breath before releasing it with the rest of your frustration.

Spiderman frowns slightly behind the mask with a shake of his head, “you want me to web him up?” he attempts and grins as your lips curl into a smile. “That would be great actually,” you giggle.

There's a beat of silence before you start up again, “and, I don't know, I feel guilty, I think Peter keeps trying to hangout with me, I mean I refused him like twice today and I don't know…” you trail off for a moment, “It’s not like I hate him, I mean he’s annoying, but so am I, and… well I actually really like talking to him, I just,” you look up at Spiderman, “I’m not blabbing on too much?”.

His masked face shakes slightly with a soft laugh and a, ‘You’re good.’

“I just don’t think I’m that great at being friends with people,” you exhale a sigh.

“Well we’re friends” he adds and the Peter behind the mask feels a pang of guilt.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble.

“What you don’t think we’re friends” he quips, nudging you softly and you hum a laugh.

“Well this is our second time talking…” you trail off and look up at him, sending a stupid grin.

“That's okay… we just… move fast,” he mumbles and you hum in agreement with a nod, ‘really fast,’ you add and he laughs with an, ‘Exactly’.

“No… you’re right,” and you send him a genuine smile, “Thanks Spidey, for listening”.

“Spidey huh?” he asks teasingly. “Well I’m not going to say Spiderman every time we talk” you ask with a grin, “I bet you’re not even a man,” you add teasingly.

“What makes you say that,” he asks defensively.

“Well first of all that was a little defensive,” you giggle, “and I don’t know,” you shrug, “I’m a teenager, I go to school with teenagers, I know how they act,” you mumble matter-of-factly with a grin.

“Also I would be a little worried if a forty-year-old man actively sought out walking me home at night,” you add

“Proud of your detective work are you?” he teases and you give a cocky nod.

“Well I can’t actually tell you my age-”, he begins,

“Oh come on,” you grin, cutting him off.

“Okay, you wanna know?” he asks, his tone is earnest and you respond with an eager nod. He pauses and leans in slightly, and you follow his action,

“I’m actually eighty,” he says and a giggle slips from his lips. You grin with an eye roll and hit his arm playfully, he lets out a joking, ‘ow’.

“I think you should have a little more respect for senior citizens,” he laughs following as you continue your route home,

“I have plenty of respect for real senior citizens,” you mumble.

As the two of you reach your apartment block you let out a huff of pain. “I’m going to rip my feet off,” you groan, wiggling your toes in your shoe.

“Not so sure that will do any good,” he quips and you grin.

“What kind of apartment building doesn’t hand an elevator,” you moan,

“Why don’t I swing you to your fire escape,” he offers sweetly, and you send him a smile, “really?” you ask.

He hums a, ‘mhm’, and your smile curls wider, before dropping ever so slightly, “my mum… she’ll wonder why I didn't come through the front door,” and Spidey gives a shrug.

“Maybe she just didn’t notice,” he offers, winking behind the mask before he remembers that you can’t see his face. “Yeah… why not,” you shrug dismissively with a smile.

He wraps a tight arm around your waist, ‘which is yours?’ he asks and you point to the one lit up with a string of fairy lights with a sheepish smile, he lets out a small laugh finding your attempt at decoration sweet.

“You’re going to need to hold onto me okay,” he mumbles and you swallow a pang of nerves with a nod of your head before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He shoots a web, swinging you both upwards and you let out a small yelp at the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath your shoes. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes slam shut at the strange feeling of freefalling for short bursts of moments.

You feel his chuckle rise with a chuckle as you cling to him tightly. Wind rushes past your ears and through your hair before you feel your feet land on the slightly shaky fire escape, it's over before it begins and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Holy shit that is terrifying,” you mumble with big eyes, a laugh escapes your lips and you meet his gaze.

“Next time you should try opening your eyes,” he teases and you mumble a ‘next time?’ with the raise of a brow. He nods with a laugh, “I’ll take you,” he says and his voice is sweet.

You breathe out an, ‘okay’ with a sure nod of your head. “You should see how beautiful the city is at night,” he mumbles softly and you feel a grin of admiration grow on your face.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you smile and you wish each other a goodnight before he swings off.

TAGLIST

@chaoticcoffeequeen

#tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #andrew!peter x reader #i wrote this instead of sleeping #spiderman #spiderman x reader #fem!reader #tasm peter parker #the amazing spiderman #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #hurt comfort #academic rivals #Split Lips series

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