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harryssweatcreaturee · 3 years ago

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Detective!Harry I

a/n: here we goooo!!! i REALLY hope you guys like this one because im really excited about it!!

word count: 1.5k

warnings: brief mentions of death and drugs

“Detective Styles, it’s only for two months. You’ve done missions longer than that with worse people. You’ll be fine.”

Harry scoffed and shook his head, “It’s not about the people you’re putting me with, it’s about the mission itself. Give it to detective Turner. He usually does stupid ones like this one.”

The man stood up from his chair, a more assertive and sterner look on his face, hands on his desk with his eyes staring deep into Harry’s soul.

“I asked you to do this because I only want the best on this case. It’s not a stupid one, Styles. It’s a very serious one, at that. Get your head out of your ass, take the file with you, and get the hell out of my office.”

His senior investigator was right. To keep it modest and simple, Harry was the best the whole precinct could offer. He was sharp, smart, quick on his feet, observant, and intuitive. When it came to needing the best, Harry was present. Hell, other precincts would call for him when it came to the harder cases.

It just seemed like following a woman around for two months was stupid and a waste of time. He barely knew much about the case because he couldn’t bother to go over the file when it was dropped off at his desk.

Harry huffed, grabbing the file from Truman’s desk and walked out towards his office. “Fuckin’ hell.” He muttered under his breath as he shut his door and sat on his chair, feet propped up on his desk crossed at the ankles. He opened the file, eyes skimming over the first page which was a description of the woman and her weekly schedule. How fun.

His partner walked into his office, not bothering to knock. He sat parallel to Harry, arms crossed as his eyes set on the front page of the file. “’Course they gave you (Y/L/N)’s case.”

Harry looked up with his eyebrows furrowed. What does he mean by that?

“What do you know about this case, Turner?”

Turner laughed and shrugged. “Not much. All I know is that she can be quite a bitch and will do whatever it takes to get what she wants. ‘M not surprised Truman handed it to you. Just hope and pray you don’t have to interact with her.” Harry chuckled and shook his head, “Nothing I can’t deal with. I start tomorrow so be on watch if I need you.”

(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Mornings spent at the gym up in Midtown, afternoon whereabouts unconfirmed, evenings out for meetings, nights at prestigious clubs and restaurants. Harry had it all memorized and his duty was to find out what she did during the afternoon and of anything suspicious occurred before, after, or in between.

His morning started rather early at about 5 A.M. before the sun came up for its good morning. He had his breakfast, file open on the counter as he went over the pictures they provided of her and the car she drove. The woman was gorgeous, to say the least. Harry could almost see her viscousness in the pictured they caught of her, her facial expressions showing nothing close to being genuine and nice. He was ready for whatever the hell this woman would bring.

The precinct mainly wanted her for what she knew. (Y/N) was in the same network bubble as drug lords, mafia men, criminals wanted for killing and selling the hardest drugs known to mankind. She knew it all and they needed to know everything and if she was involved. Of course, Harry was the man for that.

People kept popping up dead, missing, and others turning themselves in because of how bad they’d been involved. They knew prison was the safest place for them than in the hands of their own killer. They wanted to put an end to it.

Having studied her schedule, Harry left his house at about 7, making his way to the gym she’d be at. Truman already set up everything beforehand so Harry already has his membership and didn’t need to waste any time at the front signing up when he could be near (Y/N), studying her every move.

He found himself running on a treadmill, air pods pushed into his ears, but they played nothing. It didn’t take any longer than a couple of minutes before she came inside, a smirk on her face as she greeted the men at the counter and made her way towards the machines.

Harry didn’t get lucky. She actually had a whole routine, kept quiet the whole time, and picked up and left as soon she was done and satisfied. To not make himself seem suspicious, Harry left a few minutes after her, but soon enough to catch up to her at the intersection right after the gym.

If there was one thing that was emphasized in her file, it was that she was smart and always a step ahead. Harry kept that bright and inked in his brain. Once she made a left at the light, Harry kept going before making a left himself at the following avenue to prevent her noticing that someone was following her.

He was vigilant, quickly finding her but staying one car behind before she pulled up to a pet store. A fucking pet store.

Harry pulled out his phone, dialing Truman as he felt his blood boiling.

“Detective Styles.” He said as a form of greeting. But Harry skipped his own.

“Her file claims afternoon whereabouts are unknown, and I just followed her to a pet store. Seriously? Is this a game? Your men need to step it up. This is ridiculous.” Harry scoffed.

“Do you hear yourself? You think that one time at one place determines a set schedule or habit? There’s a reason why you must follow her for a couple of days. You know better. Bye, Styles.”

Unfortunately, Truman was right.

Harry was just used to more hardcore stuff since the very first day so this all seemed stupid to him when he thought they could just grab her one day and force her to talk instead of following her around for information.

Though Harry knew better than to go off schedule, he knew her meeting were always held at Jones Corporation for her job which was a cover for what she really did which was his duty to find out. So, he decided to not waste his time.

Harry went back home. He did some small shunt work he had left for last minute, made himself some lunch and watched movie until the night time rolled around. This time he decided he’d be a bit more involved. He dressed himself in black dress pants, wine red button up that left his upper chest exposed, a sleek black blazer on top.

He left his house a bit earlier than usual since she could be in one of four places, giving him time to drive around to find her white Mercedes with the plate he had memorized.

It didn’t take long for him to find her, the second try being successful. They were at one of the clubs she owned. Harry made the line like anyone else would. But then he got to the bouncer and his luck wasn’t too great.

“Name.”

Harry looked at him with a stoic look. “Harry Styles.”

The bouncer didn’t even look down at the list in his hands. “Sorry. No entry.”

Harry scoffed as he pulled out his wallet and grabbed a couple hundreds. “M’names right there.”

It worked. The bouncer stepped aside, Harry sighing happily as he made his way inside, loud music instantly filling his ears. The strobe lights were overwhelming. People dancing all around, bar half full of intoxicated people.

Harry looked around to find her, but she was nowhere to be found. But he did not fret. Her car was parked at the back, so she was somewhere here. He made his way to the bar, sitting on one of the barstools as the bartender approached him. “What are we having tonight, darling?” Harry didn’t give it a second thought. “Whiskey on the rocks. Strongest you’ve got.”

He pulled a fifty from his wallet, dropping it on the counter as the woman before him poured the whiskey into the glass, a bit too seductively for his liking. He was a man on a mission, and he was to face no obstacles.

But man, oh man, he had no idea what was coming for him.

“It’s on the house, Mary.” (Y/N) called out from beside him, her hand resting on her hip with that same smirk on her face he saw that same morning.

“Been wondering why you’ve been following me around all day.”

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yesimwriting · 3 years ago

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This Time it's Different - Chapter Two

a/n i didn't expect this idea to get as much attention as it has??? thanks for the support and opportunity to share in my NWH angst

as always with this series,, major Spider-Man: No Way Home spoilers beneath the cut.

summary: Only a few hours after the tragic death of his aunt, Peter not only meets two different versions of himself from different realities, he also learns two important things about the girl he never wanted to become friends with. Y/n, the girl who’s been his academic rival for years and accidental ally during the chaos that happened after Mysterio, was always meant to matter in his life. Both Spidermen that are in the wrong universe recognize her easily, and the Peter Parker of this universe learns that his y/n is meant to die.

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Y/n’s POV

----

New York is never silent, especially if you’re with someone who has recently been revealed to be the masked hero (or villain, if you ask the Mysterio believers) of the city. But Peter insisted on coming with me. The fact that he can’t really walk down the street without being crowded and harassed by civilians and journalists is something that neither of us have mentioned.

I know I need to bring it up before we walk outside of the school, but with the strange, resigned energy he’s been radiating, I don’t want to bring up anything negative. I never thought I’d be going out of my way to protect Peter Parker’s feelings, but then again, a lot of things I thought would never happen are happening. Something needs to be said and yet I stay quiet. When I agreed to let him walk me back, that’s the most himself he’s seemed since I got here.

Maybe it’s reminding him of what Spider-Man is meant to be. A guy with the ability to look out for people. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He has to miss that.

“Where are you going?”

He doesn’t stop walking as he turns his head in my direction. Peter’s eyebrows are drawn together in a way that makes a nasty cut near his temple harder to look at. How did I miss that earlier? “We’re walking you back to your--”

“Yeah, and you just walked past the hallway that leads to the front of the school.”

Peter pauses. “I can’t walk out there, people and news reporters don’t let me anymore.”

His thinly veiled uneasiness is momentarily characterized by a gut wrenching frustration. I take a deep breath, stepping towards him on instinct. “The back door’s not going to be any better.” It’s not like there’s a news helicopter waiting outside of Midtown, but the moment we’re on public property, he’ll be seen. “I can walk back by myself, I’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head once, “No--what I have planned is a lot faster than walking back to your house.”

What else is there? “A car?” I really doubt that that’s what he means, but what else is there? It’s not like he can fly--oh. Oh he’s insane. “Oh--no--”

“Y/n-”

“No, no--absolutely not.” There is no way in hell I’m going to let him swing us around with nothing but the promise of death beneath us. “I don’t want to be on the roof, let alone--” I shake my head in an attempt to dismiss the knot in my stomach. “There is nothing you can say or do to convince me that it’s a good idea to let you swing me home.”

“It’s fast--”

I scoff. “You know what else is fast? The speed that my body would plummet to the ground.” Peter presses his lips together, the corner of his mouth struggling to angle itself downwards. Does he think this is funny? “Are you laughing?”

“No,” the answer comes too fast and too evidently false. “No--I--I’m trying not to.” I glare at him. Most of the sympathy I was feeling quickly evaporates into the air. “It’s not you.”

I raise an eyebrow as he struggles to articulate what’s so funny about my completely rational reaction. “It’s not?”

“Okay, I lied it is you, but not for the reason you’re thinking.” What? I’m starting to wonder how hard he hit his head. “It’s just I’ve never seen you scared of anything. Even in the eighth grade spelling bee, when your friend started crying because the other kids were making fun of how badly she misspelled a word, you weren’t scared to go up there and spell the same word even more incorrectly.” The eighth grade spelling bee is a vague memory that I probably never would have thought of again if it wasn’t for him. My stomach flutters in a way I don’t understand--I never even spoke to him in middle school, and he just knows that? “And seeing you scared of something, it’s um--it’s a little funny. A little humanizing.”

And there it is. He knows my fatal flaw is how I respond to a challenge. “Humanizing? I’m not a--do I seem like a robot to you?”

“No.” His stupid trying-not-to-laugh smile comes back. “Maybe like a cyborg.” I roll my eyes. He can make all the jokes he wants, but there’s no way--”That’s scared of heights.”

I cross my arms in front of me. “I am not scared of heights.” Peter’s expression is not losing its amusement. “I am not.”

“It makes sense, now I know why you almost freaked out on the plane ride to Europe--”

“I did not almost ‘freak out’.” I definitely did. A flight attendant tried to comfort me by giving me extra peanuts. “I am not scared of heights, I was just really excited for the trip.”

He holds his hands up in defense, his head tilting as if to say ‘prove it’. “This is so dumb.”

“What is?” The look on his face tells me he knows he’s won.

It’s bad enough that the only thing that’s going to keep me from splattering against traffic is a literal spiderweb and Peter’s hold on me. He doesn’t need to hear me tell him he’s getting his way. “If you drop me, Parker, I swear I will come back as a ghost for the sole purpose of haunting your ass.”

Any trace of the smug joy of victory vanishes in an instant. “I’m not dropping you.”

There’s no room for argument, not even a fake one. I blink, no words forming in response to his intensity. He turns around before I have the chance to say anything, anyways. We walk in silence, me about three steps behind him until we’re at the door that leads to the stairs that will take us to the roof.

Okay--okay. I can do this. I just have to walk up some stairs and then will my body to stand at the edge of a roof and then--don’t think about that part. I move up the stairs, my grip on the railings tightening with each step. When Peter pushes open the door that leads to the roof I have to fight the urge to run.

He steps out casually. My fingers won’t release the top of the railing. “Y/n?”

This isn’t happening. “You win.” I’m embarrassing myself, but at least there’s still ground beneath my feet. “I’m scared of heights. I totally freaked out on the flight to Europe, I spent the first fifteen minutes of it digging my nails into my arm rest. And I can’t do this.”

A part of me braces for his gloating. He’s looking at me, something unreadable making up his expression. Peter steps towards me. He doesn’t stop until he’s closer than he’s ever been to me (with the exception of the ‘you just got into Harvard’ hug). His hand moves, finding their place over my tense knuckles.

“You can do this.” Peter patiently squeezes the hand that’s still clutching the railing. “You know how I know that?” I shake my head, not in the mood for some other basic attempt to attack my ego in order to get me to do this. “Because you can do anything you tell yourself you’re going to do. I’ve seen you do it.” The gentle praise is so unexpected I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash. “I’ve seen you ace chemistry classes you took as electives because you said you would.”

I swallow once, easing enough to really look at Peter. “That’s not the only reason.” Why am I admitting this to him now? “I also did it because I um--I wanted to keep up with you.”

“Then don’t let me beat you at this.” We lock eyes, and I really think that if things were even a little different, the slightest bit less tense, we’d both have laughed.

My hand releases the railing, but Peter doesn’t move away. He helps our fingers intertwine. If the warmth of his hand through the fabric of his suit wasn’t so assuring, I’d feel more embarrassed at the prospect of him walking me to the edge of the roof like a child.

“Okay, I’m going to pick you up now. I’m not going to let you go, but you need to hold onto me.”

That’s the thing he needs to worry about least. “Me holding onto you is not going to be a problem.” The moment the words leave my mouth, a wave of regret crashes through me. Why would I say it like that? “I just mean that--you know I don’t like heights so um--my grip, y’know?”

I force an awkward laugh out. I’ve been so nervous about the thought of dangling over the city, I didn’t have time to be nervous about anything else. But now I’m starting to register how close we’re going to have to be and the fact that he’s literally going to be holding me. And he’s in that Spider-Man suit, and until last week I was basically in love with Spider-Man. Okay--don’t make this weirder.

“Yeah--I-I know.” He pauses, watching me carefully. “I’m um--I’m going to pick you up. That’s okay, right?”

“Yeah.” I’m begging myself to play this off as casual as it actually is. "Would it helped if I j--” The hand that’s not holding mine finds its way around my waist. Less than a moment later, I’m pulled off the ground enough to cross my legs around his torso and wrap an arm around his chest. “Or just casually lift me off the ground with one arm. Whatever’s easiest.”

He places an arm around my back. “Spider-Man, spider strength. Sorry, I should have warned you.”

I’m more thrown by our proximity than the lack of effort it took for him to pick me up with basically no hold on me. “You’re good.”

Peter shifts slightly before expertly jumping onto the roof’s parapet. My head instinctually snaps downwards. I don’t have time to make out anything. Peter’s free hand reaches beneath my chin and forces me to look away so quickly all I see is a brief blur of dark colors.

“Don’t look down, that will only make it worse.” My stomach knots, and I’m not sure if it’s because of what’s about to happen or because I just realized that we’re so close that all I would need to do is angle my head in order for our lips to touch. Why am I thinking of that? Stop it.

I nod, forcing down the rising nerves in my chest. “Got it.”

“I’m going to go now.”

He’s going to jump off the roof with you. Focus on something else, not on what’s about to happen. Think about literally anything else. Okay--well the multiverse is falling apart. And there are three Peter Parkers. No. That stuff is bad. Think about Harvard, the future that I’ve always wanted and won’t get if the world literally falls apart. Okay, think about...think about um--Peter. And how this isn’t the worst feeling. Actually, it’s kind of nice because he’s warm and smells nice and--oh my god, I think this is more damaging than thinking about falling to my death.

“Yeah, on the count of three?” So that I can freak out right before? “Actually, no, just do it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah--yes, as long as I don’t know.” I squeeze my eyes shut burring my face into his shoulder.

He’s going to jump. I know it. “Wait.”

What is it? Does he feel like he’s about to drop me? Or maybe he’s realizing how insane this is. “Y-yeah?”

“You still live in the same apartment you lived in sophomore year?”

Right. Sophomore year to work on our joint science fair project. We didn’t want to work together, but we knew

Peter listened to me a little too quickly. He took off while I was still speaking. I’d kill him if I wasn’t so busy clinging to him like my life depends on it, because it does. My arms squeeze around his neck a little tighter as I feel us dip. Another yelp threatens to come out as I press my head even further into his neck.

Okay, the initial terror only takes a few minutes to pass. I’m still not having a good time, but at least I don’t feel like I’m going to die at any given moment. Once I’ve adjusted to the feeling of slightly subsided panic, I realize that there’s more to what’s happening than the threat of death.

Wind is blowing through my hair in that exciting way. Like when you roll down the windows as you drive down the hallway. But times a thousand--in a surprisingly good way. And the longer I think about that, the more my fear twists into something more similar to the feeling one gets the moment their roller coaster begins to moves. Only this is much more nauseating.

Like everything else that’s happened today, this is insanely confusing. I turn my head upwards slightly, forcing my eyes to squint open while keeping most of my face safely pressed into Peter’s shoulder. We’re moving too fast for me to make anything out, and I can’t tell if that’s comforting or not. The blur of city lights and the night sky is a collage I never thought I’d enjoy. But this is still the most nerve wracking situation I’ve ever been in.

Peter swings so low his feet almost touch the pavement. I squeeze him a little harder again. He swings even lower, placing us on the ground. The transition is fairly seamless, but the change is enough to make me shut my eyes again.

“You can open your eyes now.” There is no more wind or unsteady sensation. We’re on the ground...we made it and he didn’t drop me and it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever experienced.

I lift my head, blinking at him. “So that’s what it feels like, when you um--you do the whole web thing?” Despite myself, I laugh and I’m not sure if it’s because the adrenaline or motion sickness. “And you do that all the time?”

“Pretty much,” he admits, laughing in the same awkward way as me. “Sorry--it’s normally a little smoother, I’m not used to having a passenger.”

Right, he may be strong enough to support me with shocking ease, but it has to be a little distracting. And...he’s still holding me. Is it weird it took me so long to realize that? “Right, I um--and I’m still on you.” I pull even more away from him. “Sorry.”

I unlock my legs, and Peter places a hand above my hip to offer me support as I jump off of him. His hold lingers, which I appreciate because my legs are less steady than I expect them to be. “You’re good. You did it.” Instinctually, my hand moves to touch his. He doesn’t pull away, which is something I can’t help but take note of. “And it wasn’t that bad.”

“No,” shockingly true, “it wasn’t that bad. It was--it was insane and terrible and one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.”

Peter looks--rightfully--surprised. “So you liked it?”

He’s smiling at me like I’ve lost it. I laugh in that same excited, nervous way. “Yes!” I inhale, turning to look at me. “And I--I also kind of never want to do it again. It’s really confusing.”

“I can tell.” He takes a step back, turning towards the entrance of my apartment. Peter takes a step forward--is he...

“Peter, where are you going?”

“To your house?”

I move to stand in front of him. “No, no, no--you can’t go up with me.” Is he seriously confused? “I just got into Harvard, if my mom sees you, she’ll lock me in my room until graduation.”

“Your mom liked me when we worked on that project together.”

“That was before being associated with you impacted college admissions.” The words leave me a little more harshly than they should, and they definitely sound much more harsh than they should.

I don’t know where that intensity came from. I definitely don’t blame Peter for anything that happened with his college thing, but it did happen. And it impacted Ned and MJ too. I know I got into Harvard, but there’s no guarantee that they won’t revoke that acceptance. All I’ve ever wanted, all my family has ever wanted. I could lose that.

And I don’t care.

I don’t care? I blink, inhaling as the realization washes over me. Obviously saving the multiverse is extremely important, but if it was just that I’d be annoyed. But I’m not annoyed--I don’t care. Literally. There has to be some other subconscious reason.

Okay--personal realization aside, I shouldn’t have said that. It brought back all the sad shadows that had just started to disappear. “Parker, I--”

He’s turning away. “No, I--”

“No, I--”

“Don’t. What you said is true.”

“No, I need--”

“But that doesn’t mean--”

“It’s--”

“Peter.” His first name makes him pause. I get it, I’ve only called him that a number of times. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t--it doesn’t matter.” I hate saying this. “Some things matter more than Harvard.”

“Some things matter more than Harvard?”

Hearing those words said back to me knots my stomach. They don’t feel like something I’d say ever. “Yeah.” Affirming that statement almost kills me. I awkwardly scratch the back of my arm. “You know what? Come up with me, my mom will probably be. so happy about the fact that I got in that she’ll be incapable of being mad about anything.”

He eyebrows draw together. “No, y/n, it’s okay.”

It’s not. “You can’t stay out here, I’m surprised a news helicopter isn’t above us right now. I think you have like three minutes before people realize who you are and start crowding you.”

“I know.” He’s so confusing today. Is he planning on leaving? “Your bedroom leads to a fire escape, right?”

“Yeah, but--” I am honestly so slow. “Oh, you’re insane.” Sighing, I pretend not to notice the slight smile on his face. “I’m on the thirteenth floor, my window has the purple curtains with the fairy lights hanging from them.”

Peter nods. “Thirteenth floor, purple curtains, fairy lights.”

I nod as well, turning to walk towards my apartment. I get to the front door of the building before looking behind me. Peter’s watching me and he instinctually snaps his head away when he notices me.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in such a hurry to get into my apartment and get out. The elevator takes forever, but eventually I get to the thirteenth floor. I walk down the hall until I reach my front door.

“Y/n!” My mom is at the door, pouncing the moment she hears my keys. “You got in!”

She pulls me into a hug that makes me want to tell her everything that’s going on. But the less she knows the better. Why take away from her joy? “Yeah, I did!”

She pulls away enough to look me in the eye. “I’m so proud, and we have so many people to call.”

After four brief and emotional phone calls, I manage to convince my mom to give me a break. She says we need to call at least three more relatives and two girls from her work that she needs to prove something to. All I can think about is the fact that Peter may or may not be in my room right now. I know the most important thing is getting this done as quickly as possible, but I need to know if he’s here or not. It’s ridiculous to think that something bad happened to him in the little time we’ve been apart, but the not knowing is driving me crazy.

“Mom, I need like five minutes. My phone is almost dead and I promised my friends I’d meet them after this.”

She barely looks away from scrolling through her contacts. “Sure, go ahead.”

I walk into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water just in case. Walking to my room has never felt this nerve wracking. I open the door and slip inside of my room without taking in my surroundings.

My room seems empty. The fire escape window is closed. Did he not make it up here? I place my phone and the glass of water on my night stand. “Peter?”

The door to my closet creaks. I take a step back. My breathing stalls in my chest until I see that it’s just Peter. “Oh my god--why are you in the closet?”

“I heard the door start to open, and I didn’t know if it was going to be you or not.”

I suppress a laugh, because what happened isn’t actually that funny. “I um--I brought a glass of water in case you wanted it.”

He steps out of the closet, walking towards the side of my bed like there’s nothing strange about being here. I guess because of everything that’s happened, him standing in my bed room is no longer the unfathomable thing it once was. But he’s adjusting to being in my space with an ease I’m not sure I understand. “Thanks.”

“You can sit if you want.”

My bed lightly creaks as I reach into my nightstand. I turn to hand him the glass, but have to stop myself from running into his chest. How did I not hear him walk closer to me? Is that another Spider-Man thing? I hold the cup out towards him. Peter goes to grab it and our fingers touch. We’ve touched multiple times today--he literally carried me here. And yet something about the way his hand lingers is different.

It’s different from our hug, and when he held my hand so that I’d walk onto the roof. It’s even different from when I was literally on him. It’s somehow...fuller. Magnetized. A quick current runs through my fingers. I let go of the glass, breaking the almost-spell. “...Shocked me.” The sound I let out, a mix between a laugh and a dismissive scoff, only adds to the twisting feeling of awkwardness. “I um--I could get you some tylenol or...actually, I’m not sure that’d help much. You look like you should be seen by a doctor.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slightly. “I’m fine. I’ve been hit worse.”

I don’t like how easy that is to believe. My eyes focus on the deep gash that cuts into his eyebrow. Not too long ago, I had an injury that looked similar to that. I turn towards my night stand again. When I open the drawer, the antiseptic ointment is right where I left it.

Peter observes me calmly until I move to kneel on my bed.

“What are you doing?”

I squeeze a fair amount of ointment onto my pointer finger. “Making sure bad guys have the opportunity to take out Spider-Man before a preventable infection does.”

“I’m fine.”

“And I’m putting this on you whether you think you need it or not so stay still.”

He doesn’t move away. I hesitate when my finger is just shy of his cut. I don’t want to touch it, to cause him more pain. Biting my tongue softly to prevent from wincing, I I press the ointment to his temple, spreading it with my finger as lightly as possible. “There, I’m done.”

I screw the lid back onto the ointment and move from a kneeling position and into a sitting one. “Your cut’s all better.”

My eyes drop to the ointment. “Yeah, it um--it healed surprisingly fast.”

“No one saw you for days, I wouldn’t call that fast.”

“It was a rough couple of days, but I was lucky.” I start to trace the letters on the antiseptic. “That’s what everyone tells me, anyways.”

“But you don’t think so?”

I’ve given no one details of last month’s accident. And I don’t want to. “My memories of right after don’t match with what I’m told.”

“There was a fire, right?”

My hand turns into a fist around the ointment. “The bookstore I work at...I was taking inventory and I saw that a first addition of Alice in Wonderland was missing. Mr. Austins owns the shop and is really strict about these things, so I went to the basement. That’s where he keeps some of the rarer stuff and books that need repairs. He never wants me down there, but I knew that book was missing. When I got down there, something was off and there was a loose wire and--” The memories blur together. “I don’t know, I thought the books were at risk and then--then there was something. An explosion, or a--um, fuse malfunction. And then there was fire. I saw the fire in the attic, but Mr. Austin and the EMTs found me upstairs.”

My body has healed on the outside. The only thing that’s left that announces to the world that anything ever happened is the fading bruises on my legs and collar bone. But I don’t feel like it’s over. I don’t feel like anything’s truly healed. “I’m sorry.”

He’s the last person that should feel bad for anyone. “Please, you go through ten times worse for a good cause. My dumb accident isn’t something you need to feel bad about.” I take a deep breath, begging myself to change the topic before I say something I regret. The accident was just an accident. A freak, in the moment kind of thing that anyone else would have gotten over by now. “It’s not the pain that makes me keep thinking about it...it’s the way the pain stopped. I know I’m better and I’m lucky, but I feel like I didn’t heal right. Like something is different and I don’t know what it is but I know I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

The confession feels wrong, but Peter doesn’t give any indication of that. “Different?”

I take a deep breath. “Yeah.” I don’t regret telling this to him, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to dissect it. “I should um--I should go back and finish those phone calls so that we can get back to doing the whole ‘multiverse saving’ thing.”

I stand up, desperate to escape the energy that I accidentally created. “I’ll um--I’ll see you in like ten minutes.”

“Y/n?”

I spin on my heels, my eyes landing on Peter the moment I’m facing him. “Yeah?”

He holds my gaze for a long moment before speaking. “I think you should stay here.”

Peter presses his lips together the second the words are out. “What?”

“I think it might be better if you don’t come.” He raises a hand as if he wants to elaborate but then just awkwardly drops it to his side. “You um--you helped a lot with that anti-serum thing, but now--”

“Now you’re done with me.”

“No, that’s not how I--”

“That’s the only possible way to mean that.” The sudden rejection hits me straight in the chest. He can’t see that. “It’s whatever, it’s not like we were really friends.”

“Y/n--”

Dismissing him with a wave of my arm, I begin to walk to the door of my bedroom. “You can go out the way you came.”

My hand grabs the doorknob as something in me hopes that he’ll say something else. Or that he’ll take it back. Or that--Something small and sticky strikes my arm. The thing pulls at me, forcing me to turn back around.

Peter blinks at me as I stare at the white line that’s connecting my arm to his wrist. “Did you just web shoot me?”

He, at least, has the decency to briefly look somewhat apologetic as he releases me. “I’m not telling you not to come to hurt you. I just--you can’t be there.”

Oh, he’s lost it. “Like you could ever hurt me.” I scoff, the sound ugly and artificial. “I don’t care if you want me there or not. I don’t care if you’re my friend or not. But you can’t pretend to be my friend and then treat me like I’m disposable for no reason.”

“I don’t think you’re disposable.”

“Really? Because you’re disposing of me right now.”

“No, that’s not--”

“Yes it is! And you’re doing it to be mean, because I can--”

“No.”

I sigh, crossing my arms as if that will keep me from yelling and alerting my mom of his presence. “Put aside the fact that we can’t be left alone for more than thirty minutes without fighting, but we’ve been doing good.” The last part leaves me much more shakily than it should. “So good.” Stop it, you can’t make him like you, but you can keep him from knowing how much it hurts. “And I can help Ned and MJ--you know I can.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

I don’t know what shifted, but something’s changed. Something must have reminded him of our usual dynamic. But that shouldn’t be enough for this. Even on our worst days, I never thought he’d hate me enough to do this. I know I’m not a super hero and my help doesn’t necessarily mean much, but this could be the end of the multiverse. Any help must be worth something. “Get over our stupid thing for two seconds, and think about the greater good!”

“I can’t.”

He’s not yelling, he’s not even looking at me. That makes it worse. Anger and hurt pulses through my body. I exhale. The lights in my room flicker in the way they normally do before a short outage. This building has been having more and more of them lately. I miss when that was my greatest personal problem.

“At least tell me why you’re being so weird!”

He takes a deep breath. “Because I don’t want you there, and we--we don’t need you.”

Wow. He is such an asshole. This is what I get for thinking I could ever trust him in any capacity. “Then go, because if you’re going to be this hot and cold I don’t want to go with you.”

Peter frowns, walking around my bed and towards the fire escape. Once he’s gone I just stand there for a long second. My eyes are watering. I was so stupid. I thought--

I don’t even know what I thought. It doesn’t matter. Peter Parker and I aren’t friends, we’re barely anything. But I have a responsibility to see this multiverse thing through, right? Or, at least, I have a responsibility to make sure things are going well.

Not for Peter’s sake, but for my friends. I flop onto my bed and pull my phone from my pocket. Unlocking it, I open my messaging app and begin to type a text to MJ. I get two words in before my phone dies. Great--fantastic.

Groaning, I drop my phone onto my bed, leaning over to find my charger. The second I plug in my phone, it lights up. 100 percent battery. That’s um--it has to be a glitch. I unplug it and plug it back in and nothing changes. What was that about?

Maybe something is up with my charger? I reach over to the lamp on my bedside table, searching for ‘on’ switch. My fingers graze the metal neck of the lamp and the light turns on immediately. Okay, two power related, strange things have happened back to back. The last time electricity acted this strange around me was in the book store.

I’m losing it. Okay, only one way to ease my nerves. I lean down, unplugging my lamp from the wall. When I sit up again, the lamp is off. Okay. I let out a sigh of relief, my hand relaxing against my nightstand, my fingers just barely brushing against the base of the lamp. The light flickers on.

Okay, this is just--this is--

I move my hand away and the lamp turns off. I touch it and it turns on.

Oh my god. I laugh, frustrated, a little scared, and excited. Oh, I need to call Ned right now.

----

Taglist: @alexa135 @gabiatthedisco @bimboshaggy @hoe-4-sebstan @deadphantomsociety @angie1djonasgg @callmebyyourhoe @shirtwithnobrim @lovesfics @angelicvsmic @i-bitch-you-bitch @nikt-wazny-y @theawesomeloner @galaxypotter @callmebyyourhoe

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myfeetkeepdancing · 4 years ago

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Graduation Beach Party | Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Request: So in this plot the Midtown Seniors Graduates (a.k.a Peter, Male!Reader, Ned, MJ, Betty, Flash, Teachers maybe, etc.) are having a Graduation Beach party to Huwaii organized by the Midtown school. It's kinda like the movie Spiderman: Far From Home, but different. I think I saw a post about Peter being insecure about his weird rip body but reader find it hot. So basically Peter is to scared/shy to show off his body with his shorts swim suit when he's going to swim with people around, even more scared/shy when his crush reader is going to see him like this. I mean, everyone will be shocked to see Peter that has a rip body even reader but found it attractive. @coledrawsstuff

Words: 3301

A/N: I wasn’t sure how graduation parties went, so this is my take on it 😉

Peter dreaded this day would come. In more than one way. He wished he'd protested to the idea of going to Hawaii. Hawaii wasn't bad. Not in the slightest. But the plans that were going around scared him in the simplest ways. And the moment he feared most was just around the corner. Laying flat out on his bed, eyes plastered to the ceiling, thoughts far beyond the room. Within a few hours, the final party would be taking place right outside the hotel. From his room, he could hear staff preparing. Bringing out the barbeque, drinks, and all that was needed.

"Dude." Ned said while pulling Peter's fingers from his lips. "Don't bite your fingernails."

"Sorry… I' m-..." Shaking his head, followed by a long sigh, Peter raised himself onto the edge of the bed. Catching the last few rays of sunshine over the balcony as the sun began to set on the horizon. "I don't know. I'm not much of a party guy. Maybe I-"

"No, Peter!" Ned said, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Don't you think about it! This is the greatest day of our lives. I mean, look at this place. Look at those beautiful dancers out there." He said while staring down onto the beach, watching the scarcely dressed staff girls carrying torches and flower necklaces. "Go...Go… change…" Ned mumbled, trying to reach for Peter behind him, while being completely captivated by the girls. "-and get ready for the party."

"Do you think…"

"Sorry!" He exclaimed. "See you in a bit, Peter." Ned darted for the door past all the luggage on the floor. "That cute girl just winked at me. I'm so going to ask her to dance with me."

Peter listened to the door close softly into the lock as his mind wandered away. Peter found himself lost in his own thoughts again. Worrying about things no other kid of his age ever thought about. Every since becoming Spider-Man, his body had changed. At that age, everyone does. But Peter changed more than average. He grew stronger, and gained an additional mass of muscles. All he could think about was how he could explain it. Yet, he couldn't. His excuses always revolved around this internship and playtime with Ned and you. He'd never even set foot in a gym. Let alone exercise. Flash was bound so something. And he always timed such remarks in front of the group.

Peter felt incredibly insecure about all of it. The way he looked. The way he felt. He couldn't explain anything. And that made it worse with not being able to respond well to Flash's taunts and annoying quips. Even thinking about going on that photo shirtless made him cringe.

"Peter?" He whipped around, feeling caught as he heard you knocking on the door. "Ned said you were here."

"I ehm… yes...." Rubbing the crook of his neck. Panic hitting him as he sat there. Running over to open the door to you. Peter felt his heart skip more than one beat. Seeing you standing there. No shirt, just swimming shorts and slippers. Peter had a crush on you for a long time and found himself struggling. Day in, day out. Finding the last few months even harder than it already was.

"You ok?" You asked, following Peter into the room. "You seem... on edge?"

"Did Ned say anything?!" He quipped as he turned around. "Did he?"

"No-no, you're just sweating all over." Pointing to the glistening on his forehead. "Let's jump into the sea before the picture. Still have plenty time."

"I forgot my swimming shorts." He said. "I... c-can't..."

"Oh, well I got a spare one."

"W-W...What? You bring a s-spare?" He stuttered, cheeks turning red as he began to feel the nerves in his system go in overdrive.

"Yeah, I'll get 'em. I'll be right back."

Peter had just dug his own grave even deeper now. He was trembling all over at the thought of wearing his crush swimming shorts. Hastily walking back and forth, hands in his hair. This time he couldn't think of a lie or a bad excuse.

"Here, it may be a little bit too big. But if you tie up the strings, you'll be fine." Peter sat at the edge of his bed, looking at the colorful shorts, sighing deeply.

"(Y/N)..." He said in a low voice. "I'm not… I… I don't feel comfortable about it."

"Don't worry." You chuckled. "I washed it before packing."

"That's not it." He jumped to his feet, walking back and forth with a hand combing through his curls. "I… d-" Shaking his head without finishing his sentence.

"What's wrong…?"

"I don't want this photo to happen. I don't want any of it!" He yelled out angrily in a waterfall of words. "I hate it! The whole thing. And-"

"Peter!" With both hands, you grab his shoulders. "Calm down! What's going on? Did something happen?" His big puppy eyes stared in yours for a moment before rolling his head down.

"I… can't say." Pulling himself free from your grasp. "You-… Y-You wouldn't understand." Plopping himself on the edge of the bed.

"If you don't say it, I certainly won't." You crouch onto your knees, hoping to level yourself with him, catch a glimpse of his eyes. "Please let me, Peter. We'll keep it between us, if you like."

Peter felt the butterflies buzzing in his stomach. How he loved you. Sitting in front of you. Everything he ever wanted, so close. He wanted to tell, but not risk it. Yet, and the end of all this, there was a good chance they wouldn't see each other again. The thought of it alone brought him to the verge of tears. For so many years, Peter had found a friend in you; and more. The things he had in common, the laughter, the jokes, the science. Even the simplest things. Through the years, he had grown fond of you. And in his eyes, the biggest mistake of all, a growing passion for you. To such an extent, he didn't want to sleep in the same room in the hotel. Be near you for too long.

"I need you to be honest (Y/N)." He looked up at you, the red circling his eyes. "Promise me."

"Peter… I…" Your heart skipped a beat seeing his eyes watering like that. "Of course. I will. I promise." You said resolutely. "Always."

"I-I… I... don't feel comfortable... going without... a shirt on." He mumbled. Even as he said the words, he felt embarrassed. "It's… It's... difficult to understand. And everyone's out there. And… And… y-you a-are..." Peter buried his face into his hands, overcome by shame and worries.

With Peter, you always had to choose your words carefully. He wasn't quick to anger, but he is smart. And to convince Peter to do something, you either had to have a well-thought-through plan. Or trick him. You couldn't win an argument with him. "What is bothering you? Is it a scar?"

"N-No… It's different..." He sighed. Hunching together more and more. You sat in silence, wondering what troubled him. "I shouldn't look like this (Y/N)! Not on my age." He suddenly veered up from the bed. Aggravated and annoyed by his thoughts. "See!?" Lifting the hem of his shirt, revealing abs. You were taken by surprise how well built Peter was for his age. The abs were nicely sculpted and well developed. "Everyone's going to talk about it (Y/N)!" His eyes welled with tears, on the verge of spilling across his cheeks. "I… I can't do it."

You raise yourself back up again and approach Peter. Standing there, sobbing on his own. "Listen to me, Peter." Placing his forehead against your chest, you let your fingers rake through his brown curls. "Hey…" You whisper softly, trying to get his attention. But even in this situation, Peter tried to avoid your gaze. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you gently lift his head upwards. Up close, Peter was really something. Your heart fluttered, as you couldn't help but smile. Not because of his misery. But he looked so cute. Even now. "Peter, listen…" You said softly. His big eyes finally connecting with yours. They were puppy-like. So precious and impossible to not feel his emotions spilling over to you. With the pads of both thumbs, you gently wipe away the tears from his eyes. "Look at me." Finally, able to catch his full attention. "You do... look good, Peter." You said. "You always have."

"Y-You only say that because… I… wanted to h-"

"No-No-No…" You cut him short. "I said that… because I mean it. Now, go change into these shorts. And then let's have a look." Handing him several flower necklaces in various colors and lengths. You pull them back before Peter grabs them. "But only if you want to."

"I don't see the point…" Shaking his head, disappointed. "B-But…Give me a minute." He said, disappearing into the bathroom. The time Peter spent in the bathroom was enough to feel flustered by his image. If the last months weren't already challenging enough. The point where you couldn't stop thinking about was already crossed. Peter looked so good… Both outside, and inside. And that thought kept repeating in your mind over and over again. You had to tell him.

"(Y/N)" Peter calls again. Waking you from your thoughts. Hearing the door unlock. "Can you come look?"

With a mission in mind, you lift yourself from the bed. Feeling the nerves in your legs. You were shaking. And quite heavily so. You take a few deep breaths before you walk into the bathroom and see Peter standing in front of the mirror. Peter's gaze was elsewhere but looking at himself via the mirror. Too shy or scared to do so. Peter looked nervous, and you too felt like it. The moment you stepped in, there wasn't a glimpse shared between the two of you. So you slowly approach, and take a stand behind him.

With a slight shudder in your breathing, you try to focus. Keeping your eyes on the necklaces, with good intention. Peter had simply thrown every size and shape on. But you couldn't help but stare, if only stealing a few glances in-between. His pecs and abs. His shoulders. He looked stunning. His hand grabbed yours, out of the blue, when you tried to remove a necklace. A moment of tension that forced eye contact. It's that glance you give to each other, knowing how close you finally were. You could feel him shaking through and through. Hands warm and sweaty. "Wait." He spurted, slowly letting your hand slip from his fingers, and leaned towards the door, turning the little knob. "First, what do you think?"

"Ehm… Well, locking the door might not-"

"You said you would be honest." He turned around, watching you with big eyes. "Please (Y/N)..."

Your heart pounded in your chest. Blood boiling, but in the right way. It's there you realized you had never seen him without a shirt longer than maybe half a second. In the changing rooms, he'd always take the corner. Change within a heartbeat and disappear. "L-Let's remove some of these…" Removing the necklaces one by one. It felt tense. The way you incidentally brushed your hands against his skin.

Peter looked fantastic. Again those broad shoulders. His chest was big. So well rounded. So full. And that sixpack. Your throat was going dry the more you looked. "You… eh…" A shuddered breath left you, as you wanted to think of something to say. But you couldn't. Captivated by his eyes. That innocence. That sweetness. All the things you were going to say, washed away by his cuteness.

"(Y/N)... ?" Peter asked, feeling his blood pounding between his ears. He was as nervous as ever before. Being this close to his friend. His crush. He could hear his irregular breathing. See the blush on his cheeks. And most importantly, Peter sensed it. Your heartbeat. It began to race the moment they had the discussion earlier. Peter could feel his rapid heartbeat when he laid his head to rest on your chest. But now, it was the only thing he could focus on, as it went crazy. Crazy for him. He knew.

"H-How do… do y-you feel?" You asked with a slight unintentional tremble in your voice. "That's... the most important."

"Say it, (Y/N)" Taking a step closer. "Just be honest with me." His eyes looked red, almost as if on the verge of tears. But it wasn't without a smile, a growing one. "P-Please..."

"I don't know… how to say it… Peter." You mumble, holding both his shoulders and averting your gaze for a moment. Swallowing the lump in your throat. This could be it. After all this time. "But… if this... might be the only last chance… like this… the two of us… then-"

"Who says that?" Peter cut you off. "We still have the ceremonies and-..."

"And then we part-…" Your voice broke as you said the words. The thoughts alone had wrecked you for months. And the nerves had taken their toll. "-we part ways, Peter." Feeling the tears shimmer in your eyes. The fear showed in Peter's eyes. He knew what you were talking about. And he clearly felt the same. "I… I don't want that." You whispered to him. "I… don't…"

"A-Are y-y-you sa-.. s-saying that…"

"I've always liked you, Peter." The heat rushed through your systems. Felt weak in the knees, as you instinctively pulled Peter closer to you. Inches away from his lips. "More than anything. And today hasn't changed a thing. If only… it made it worse. Peter… y-you… make me-"

"I've had a crush on you for so long…" He outright confessed. "-t-t-that I can't think straight when you're around (Y/N)."

"I want you… to know… that… that… I love you, Peter." You stammered. "I love you." Breathing heavily, staring into his puppy eyes. With your trembling hands, you lift a necklace from his chest, and over his head, taking the last step in his direction. Peter pinned between the sink and you. Your noses almost bumping into each other, as you both showed a growing smile. It's a silent exchange of glances. But you both knew what needed to happen. You lean into him, gently landing your lips on Peter's. They're so soft and warm. Inviting to a degree, you've never felt. Your heart fluttered. And for that brief moment, in that kiss, the world fell away around you. Holding his body, leaning into you, meeting Peter's loving eyes up close.

"Peter…" You kissed him again. "You are absolutely beautiful." He was so flustered to a point Peter couldn't say anything. Only staring into your eyes. "With and without clothes." Returning the kiss to you before cradling his head in the crook of your neck. "Inside and outside." Kissing his hair. "Don't you forget that."

"Thank you (Y/N)." He quietly whispered, peppering small kisses to the skin of your neck. His arms holding you in his embrace. It's intimate at first, as the barrier finally had fallen. But as you stand there, together, it felt more than that. Reassuring and calming. Swaying in each other's arms, peppering small kisses onto each other. "I'm so happy…" He said, looking at you with red lines eyes. Rubbing the first tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I… I… love you (Y/N)." He smiled broadly. "I w-wanted to tell you... B-But… I never knew how to." Hugging himself tightly against you.

"Nor did I, Peter." You admitted. "It kept me awake for so long. The thought of leaving-…" Shaking the thoughts from your head, you tighten your arms around Peter. "Not anymore."

"I love you so much (Y/N)." He smiled. "C-Can… I… kiss you… again?" He stuttered but held back for a moment. "Oh, man... I'm still shaking all over." Looking at his trembling hands. "You make me so nervous… I… I…"

"Please, Peter…" You silenced his lips with your finger. "Kiss me until the nerves go away. And then… keep going." Peter's eyes sparkled as he cupped your cheeks. Taking your lips on his again. This time with confidence and power.

- - -

"And… that's how it happened." Peter beamed from ear to ear. Waiting for May's reaction as she held the picture in her hands. It showed the group picture on the beach in Hawaii. With the sun going down in the background, and everyone dressed in the right style. In the corner, top left, back row, stood Peter, together with you. Both their arms around each other. And as the photographer looked for the right moment, Peter had focused his spidey-senses. And leaned in. Kissing you on the cheek, just at the right moment, immortalizing the day forever. Peter had never felt so proud as in that moment.

"Peter! I'm so happy for you." May said. "I love it. It's perfect." And even before Peter realized halfway continuing his story about how funny and loving you are, she had driven her scissors deep into it.

"May!" Peter called, jumping up and over the couch, scaring her in the process. "What're you doing?!"

"Calm down, sweetie." She said with complete calm in her voice, patting Peter on his cheek. And continued to cut further into the picture. "I'm getting rid... of all these people… I don't care about. See?" With great care, she cut a frame around you and Peter.

"But… But… you love these pictures?"

"I do. And this is the best one." She reassured him. "I need these two close to me." Holding the small squared picture of Peter and (Y/N). "You two are the cutest." She smiled, pulling Peter in for a hug. Followed by a kiss on top of his hair. "I love it."

"You haven't met him yet…" Peter said as if she was overestimating you. "He could be-" As he was disturbed by a notification on his phone.

"No, Peter." May continued while he read your message. "He's cute. I can see it. You did good." Ruffling through his hair. "I haven't seen you this happy before." She chuckled as she tried to get Peter's attention again.

Peter felt amazing. He couldn't keep his eyes away from the picture. It held so many good memories for him. Thinking about you made him glow and seeing you in the picture even more. He felt the butterflies stirring his insides again. A blush warming his cheeks. Peter was absolutely crazy about you. "Yeah… He's great." He smiled, biting his lower lip. "But May... he wants to meet up. What do I do?"

"What do you want?"

"Well, I… I... want to be with him, of course… and…" Peter said with a slightly shaken voice. The smile on his face growing as he thought about you. "-and… you know…"

"Of course you want to." May said with a smile, knowing exactly what her little boy meant. "Now, Petey, send him a message back. Let him come over tonight." Pulling Peter's eyes up from the phone as she pulled the boy's face up by his chin.

"But how-?" Peter panicked slightly. "How do I look? How should I look? What if-"

"First Peter." May interrupted, trying to stop him from rambling. "First, you're going tell me all about him." Peter's eyes sparkled as he thought about you. And how you could spend the night together. He wanted nothing more. But how he should approach it, that was another thing. He never dated before. And in a way, he felt like it was a date. May led Peter back to the couch. "Then we're going to come up with something special for tonight. Just for the two of you."

#peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker #peter parker imagine #tom holland peter parker #spiderman x male!reader #spiderman x male reader #male!reader #mlm #male reader #marvel male reader

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anagentinwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Lifeline - Part 2

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~2900

Warnings: Elevators, Angst

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Steve POV

“The 911 operator I was talking to had this great idea to use the hose to pull the little girl across the water to get her out of the pool,” Steve reminisced, sitting at the big island in the kitchen watching Sam cook.

“Dude, I was there, remember,” Sam replied. “And hasn’t it been like a week since that happened?”

“Yeah, but it was such a clever idea. I didn’t even know they could see the whole house on their monitors.”

“Who cares! It’s probably some fancy technology not available on the market yet, but if I'm hearing this correctly, it sounds like she popped Stevie’s dispatcher cherry,” Bucky joked behind him.

Steve peeked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Bucky. “My what cherry?”

“You know when you talk to a dispatcher on the phone while on scene. Danvers takes those calls most of the time, but every once in a blue moon, one of us takes it.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows. “Who was the operator?”

“Um...YN.”

“Oh, my sister,” Thor announced in a deep voice, patting him on the shoulder and taking the stool next to him. “She is very intelligent.”

“Wait, you have a sister?” Steve asked, widening his eyes at him.

“I have two sisters, while one half-sister, but we don’t talk about her because she’s the worst,” Thor answered with pursed lips. “YN is the best though, I like to think she got the brains, I got the brawn, and well, I guess, that makes Loki the beaut of the family.” He nodded with a half shrug.

“Are we still talking about how Rogers popped his dispatcher cherry,” Carol smirked, walking into the kitchen with Valkyrie. Steve felt his face heat up as he tried to say something, but she held her hand up. “It’s okay! Everyone remembers their first time,” She winked, forcing him to shake his head.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Steve held up his hands in surrender, trying to hide the blush on his face.

_____________

You swiveled back and forth in your chair, waiting for the next call to come in. You had a half-hour left of your twelve-hour shift, and you needed a girls' night out. Living with your brother and Darryl was both a blessing and a curse. They offered you a place to stay, rent-free when you first moved here, but the amount of testosterone in that house was sometimes too much for you to handle. You tapped your fingers on your desk when your line started ringing. You sat up, letting out a deep breath, and pressed the spacebar.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello,” a male voice replied.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m making a turkey and was wondering what the internal temperature has to be?”

“You do know it’s against the law to call with a fake emergency, right?”

“Yes, but this is an emergency.”

“No, it’s not, so get off my line.” You hung up the line, shaking your head. Right away, another call came through, and you answered it.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, hello. My friends are trapped in the elevator. The elevator must have snapped or something because there was this loud bang.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“The Natural History Museum. Please hurry!”

____________

Steve sat in his unassigned assigned spot at the dining table, eating a late lunch with the team. It was the cardinal rule at Station 107: Work as a team and eat as a family. Steve never thought he'd be able to find another firehouse he enjoyed working at, considering his previous teammates and friends at his old one. He hated leaving them behind, but he needed a fresh start, and so far, Station 107 was the best second home he could ask for.

Everyone brought something to the team as every firehouse did. Captain Danvers, or Ace as she preferred to be called in the field, brought her confidence and experience, which made for a great leader they could trust and rely on. Thor had his strength and his bravery, but he did have an ego. Sam was a great motivator and could keep everyone on task while still cracking jokes. It was no wonder Sam was the head EMT at this firehouse. Valkyrie was a badass and wasn’t afraid to put people in their place. As for Bucky, Steve knew he would always be there for him till the end of the line.

The loud alarm blaring throughout the firehouse pulled Steve out of his stupor. Everyone knew what that sound meant, and they were ready to tackle whatever it might be. One after another, they slid down the firepole, pulled on their gear, and hopped in the truck, heading towards the scene. It wasn’t unusual to take calls that didn’t involve fire because whoever could get there the fastest was better than no one showing up at all.

Thor hopped behind the driver's seat of the fire engine, pulling out of the garage. Carol sat beside him, giving him directions while speaking with the dispatcher through her headset. The sirens were wailing with Val and Sam behind them in the ambulance.

“Alright, boys. We got an elevator crash at the Natural History Museum,” Carol said into her helmet mic after speaking with dispatch. “Dispatch says three students and their pregnant teacher are inside.”

“What’s the plan, Ace?” Steve asked into his helmet mic, concealing the siren blaring in the background.

“I have contacted the museum's elevator technician, and he has already locked and tagged the power on the cars. The car sits near the basement level, so we will approach from the top in the lobby. I want Thor on the winch…”

“Ahh---what,” Thor interrupted her.

“Calm down, big guy, you can have the next one.” She gave him the side-eye, making the rest of the crew chuckle. “Steve and Bucky are going to do an immediate retrieval and approach from the top. Sam and Val will set a perimeter and then treat those who come up. Then, I will help with the retrieval, and Thor with the winch,” she stated with the last part dripping in sarcasm.

“It still hurts,” Thor added, taking a right at the intersection.

Once on-site, everyone grabbed their gear and took their positions. Steve and Bucky strapped on their harnesses and helmets, switching on the flashlight. They started scaling down the elevator shaft from the lobby as Thor lowered them on the winch with the retrieving rope.

“How we looking, Steve?”

“Sexy, but not like we are trying too hard, but it’s more kind of effortless.”

“Yeah, I mean, have you seen Steve’s ass in that harness. It could be American’s Ass or more like LA’s Finest Ass,” Sam commented with a whistle, echoing in the shaft.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Steve landed on the top of the elevator, unhooking himself while Bucky did the same. “I’m down and unattached.”

“That’s what she said,” Carol responded with her head appearing in the shaft.

Thor chuckled, shaking his head. “Classic.”

Steve rolled his eyes and used his other flashlight to find the hatch on top of the elevator. He unclipped the lock, opening the hatch door, seeing the top of the lights. “I’m Fireman Rogers, please move towards the buttons. I’m going to kick the light out, so we can get you out of there.” It took a few kicks, but once it fell through, a few faces peeked up at him. “How are we doing in there?”

“Oh my god, thank god, you’re here. I thought we were gonna die,” one of the kids replied, clutching his phone in his hand.

“Calm down, Flash. Everything is fine,” the pregnant woman reassured. “Right?” She looked up at Steve with worried filled eyes, and he nodded.

“Watch out, I'm coming down.” Steve crawled down into the hatch, and Bucky passed him the spare harness. “Ma’am, you’re going up first, but first we need to get you strapped into this harness, then we’ll pull you up.” She nodded, trusting him, and allowing him to put the harness on her before Thor used the winch to pull her up.

“Okay, boys, who's going to go next?”

“I’m next,” the one they called Flash stated.

“Okay, then, how about you with the cool hat.”

“Thanks, it gives me confidence,” the kid smiled.

“And then, you,” Steve pointed to the kid wearing a Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt.

“Um...yeah--” he nodded a little too much. “--Yeah...I can go last. Get everyone else to safety first.”

“Perfect.” Steve clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

___________

It turned out to be a quick rescue, and no one suffered any major injuries. Steve took some gear out to the truck and started repacking it when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned around, noticing the kid in the Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt wrapped in an ambulance blanket.

“What can I do for you, kid?”

“Peter. Peter Parker. I’m...I’m Peter Parker.” He held out his hand, and Steve shook it. “I just wanted to say thank you...thank you for saving my teacher and my friends back there. We’re on our school trip from New York, and this was an adrenaline rush experience.” Peter held up his hand, and Steve noticed it shaking.

He chuckled. “It will wear off.”

“It felt like that opening scene of that old action movie. Where John Wick saves those people that were trapped in the elevator after the bad guy tried to blow them up with a bomb. They don’t catch him obviously because it’s the opening scene, but later he puts the bomb on the bus, and that Bird Box lady has to keep driving like fifty-five miles an hour, or the bus will blow up.”

“I know the one. I think you’re thinking of Speed, but I don’t think it’s that old.”

“Yeah, yeah, that one,” he chuckled, pointing his finger at him. “It’s kind of old, I mean you’re kind of old, so it’s kind of old to you, but to me, it’s kind of new because I’m not that old.” He rambled on, his eyes widening, realizing what he was saying.

“Peter, come on. The museum is going to show us some never before seen stuff because we almost died,” the kid with the cool hat shouted from across the street.

“Coming, Ned,” he yelled back. “Thanks again, Fireman Rogers, and sorry about calling you old. I didn’t...”

“It’s okay, kid, I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Steve watched Peter run back over to his friends with a smile on his face. It was these moments when he loved his job, watching friends and families reunite after a tragedy. It was these moments where he felt like it could almost fix what he lost.

______________

You sighed, taking a seat at your usual spot at the end of the bar in Happy’s Hydrant. Happy noticed you right away and smiled, giving you a bottle of beer. You thanked him with a nod, taking a sip, and scanning the crowd. It wasn’t unusual to spot a familiar face, considering this bar was created for the heroes of Los Angeles. It welcomed all those members who served or are currently serving as first responders, but civilians were welcome, too. It’s nice to have a place to go with people you could relate to and share similar experiences with after working a twelve or twenty-four-hour shift. They understand what we go through on a day to day basis. It was one of the many reasons Happy Hogan wanted to open this bar after he retired from his Fire Chief position at Station 12.

You swiveled back and forth on your bar stool until someone familiar on the other end of the bar caught your eye. You stopped moving, your eyes not wavering from the man. Your mouth went dry, hearing your heartbeat thumping in your ears. You gulped, feeling your palms start to tingle as the muscles in your legs start to tighten. Every nerve in your body was firing, telling you to run, but it felt like if you moved an inch, he would see you, and these past three months would’ve been for nothing. He glanced your way for a brief moment, and relief flooded your whole body. You relaxed, squeezing your eyes shut as you took a few deep breaths in and out. It wasn’t him.

The weight of someone touching your shoulder makes you jump off your bar stool, and turn around to see one of the ladies you were waiting for. “Hey, it’s only me.” Carol held up her hands in surrender, giving you a reassuring smile. “Sorry, I forgot how jumpy you can be.”

“It’s okay. Lost in my head again.” You nodded, returning to your barstool.

“Thanks for giving my transfer a chance to be the shining star of my squad last week.” She nudged your side, flagging down Happy for a drink.

“Your what...with what,” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

“The pool, the hose, the little girl stranded on a floaty with the water electrified. Ringing any bells?”

“Ohhh, right. That one.” You took a sip of your beer. “Fireman Rhodes or was it Ronin?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.” You pointed the neck of your beer bottle at her and nodded. “You made quite an impression on him. He can’t stop talking about it, and it’s getting really annoying, but I guess you did pop his dispatcher cherry.” She nudged your side with an ever-growing smile on her face. You rolled your eyes at her, shaking your head. “And if single you is interested, I am sure he is willing to mingle. At least, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not ready to start dating. I’m still trying to find myself after going through a terrible six-year marriage.” You gave her a half shrug, eyeing the bar. “When I am ready to date again, all I want is a nice guy.”

“Steve’s nice. Hey, you should swing by one day before your shift and meet him,” she winked, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I haven’t even filed for divorce yet.”

“Wait--” she turned on her stool to face you “--hasn’t it been three months? Why not?”

“I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

“Doesn’t he know where Thor lives?”

“No,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Let's just say he didn’t take much interest in my life while we were together. Besides, I don’t think he'd think I’d go to Thor with how everything turned out the last time I went to him for help.

“What an asshole.” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her beer, and you nodded. “Well, at least you know you have an admirer,” she added, making you scoff.

“Hey ladies, sorry I’m late,” Natasha greeted, taking the other stool next to you. “Clint and I checked out this noise complaint a neighbor called in. And it turns out this guy was serenading his ex-girlfriend with hopes to win her back. It was this whole thing, and we wanted to stick around to see what happened next.”

“So what happened,” Carol asked with curious eyes, wearing a mischievous smirk on her face.

“It was crazy.” She shook her head, letting out a breathy chuckle. “She came down and punched him in the face. Apparently, this dude cheated on her with, wait for it--” she drummed her hands on the bar countertop “--her brother. It was a twist I didn’t see coming, but talk about drama on duty. Sometimes I think it would be easier fighting fires or answering phones all day.”

“Oh please, Nat, you wouldn’t last a day. You would miss seeing the excitement first hand. Over the phone, you don’t get much excitement,” you replied.

“Speak for yourself,” Carol added, taking a swig of her beer. “You would love my job, Nat. You get to boss men around.”

“I kind of do that already. Besides, I don’t think I could leave Clint. He’d be lost without me,” she smirked, signaling Happy to make her a martini.

Natasha oozed confidence, which came off as intimidating to most women. When she walked into a room, all eyes were on her, but it was attention she chose to ignore. When men would buy her drinks, she'd take it to another lovely lady. Nat was all about lifting and empowering women to feel confident in their own skin. She wasn’t afraid to tell people to back off or shut up. She was the role model you wish you had when you were with him, then maybe you would've had the confidence and courage to leave sooner.

“Here you are, Nat?” Happy pushed the martini glass to her. “Are you ladies still good?” He asked, pointing to the drinks in front of you.

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks, Happy,” you smiled at him as he walked away, shooting you a thumbs up.

“How is apartment hunting going, YN?” Nat asked, taking a sip of her martini.

“Good, I found this cute little condo a few blocks away from work. It has a modern feel to it, but I think it would be perfect for me,” you described. “I loved it when I saw the pictures. The landlord is out of town right now, but she told me it’s mine if I want it.”

“I’m so excited for you,” Nat squealed, squeezing your forearm. “You need to get out of that testosterone-filled house and get on your own two feet again.”

“Yes, you do,” Carol agreed. “What’s your softie older brother going to think of you leaving?”

“I’m going to have to break it to him slowly.”

__________

AN: Thanks for reading part 2! I hope you all are liking it so far! If you caught it there was a quote from Brooklyn 99 that I thought was too good not to put in! 😂 Also, Darryl Jacobson, if you don't remember him, he was Thor's roommate in those Marvel shorts. I thought he would be a fun and entertaining addition to this story! Also, any ideas as to why Steve left his old firehouse? Did you enjoy the little Peter Parker cameo? And what do you think Thor is going to think of her moving it? Comments always welcome, thanks again for reading!

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years ago

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— PALM TO PALM IS HOLY PALMER’S KISS ; PART 3 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1846

SUMMARY: You’re back to teaching at Gotham High and you end up overlooking rehearsals for the GHS drama club’s upcoming annual play: Romeo and Juliet that no one ever attends. In the spirit of keeping your students’ hopes up, you decide to take it upon yourself to draft out a plan to drive more people to come to the play. The key is the man you’re in love with.

WARNINGS: Vague description of a nightmare, death and an annoying teenager.

A/N: This is really going slowly like a true slow burn. I hope yall like this one. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

In the light of your unemployment as a teacher, Gotham High miraculously offered your old job back after Mrs Wilson, one of the senior English Literature teachers, died of a heart attack unannounced. In all seriousness, apologies were made, admitting they had a mistake with firing you because well, you were clearly a passionate teacher. To your surprise, you were told your students even missed you. Hence, you accepted a job from GHS once again because you would do anything to avoid the smell of burgers and the sounds of hungry crying children. After the whole burglary incident, the Big Belly Burger at midtown was forever doomed as customers gradually decreased over time. It was Gotham after all, people should be used to these kinds of things by now. Including witnessing Batman saving you, the whole experience felt like a fever dream. As excited you were and weirdly unbothered by the whole near-death experience, you realized that if you were to talk about it, no one would genuinely believe you anyway. He was a myth to most citizens of Gotham, but you’re an exception because you’re well acquainted with the knowledge that Bruce definitely knows Batman.

And oh boy, do they talk.

It’s your secret to keep and so is the Batarang you stole. You’re also dying to tell Bruce.

So, you find yourself back in the hallways, crowded with sweaty teenagers, but you would choose this over anything else in a heartbeat. Apart from returning to teaching uninterested students about the works of Shakespeare and Harper Lee and forcing reading lists onto them, you are also replacing Mrs Wilson as the GHS Drama Club’s advisor. Stage performance may be personally foreign to you but plays were practically your forte. That was how you ended up spending your Tuesday afternoons, preparing the members for the club’s annual play. This time, they decided to perform the classic: Romeo and Juliet.

As an English teacher, you were frankly sick of the play, forbidden love was a tad overrated to you. Yet the kids were genuinely trying their best. Shaniqua and Oscar were currently rehearsing their lines as the two infamous star-crossed lovers; You watched them with pride. The two were quiet in your classes but they truly shone on the stage of the school theatre.

“And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss—teach, what does this whole scene even mean?” Shaniqua exclaims and you chuckle, “This scene is simply a metaphor where Romeo is a pilgrim wanting to erase his sins and Juliet is a saint. So, he is basically trying to convince her to kiss him so that he can truly be free of sin,” your explanation echoes through the room, and you notice Oscar turning red when you mention the word ‘kiss’. It was clear as day that the poor boy really liked the girl he’s currently hand in hand with but you don’t want him to feel nervous and uncomfortable about the thought of kissing her. “Now Oscar, you can kiss her on the cheek and that’s fine. Shaniqua, say it with more emotion, okay? Everyone got it?” The response you received was a sputter of hums and nods. Before you could continue, Josh, who plays Lord Capulet and is sitting lazily on the handmade throne, speaks up much to your dismay, “Why is it so important that we put so much effort into this. It’s not like anyone is going to come.” The kids around him began agreeing with his statement, and it was honestly completely expected of him but it was the truth. No one attends the drama club’s annual play. As you're trying to calm everyone down, your phone buzzes on the table in front of you. It’s a text from Bruce, asking if you could come over tonight, phrasing it like he’s a schoolboy sneaking from his parents to meet with a girl late at night. Then, like an epiphany you have an idea although there’s an eighty percent chance it wouldn’t go through. Nevertheless, you turn to the rest of the students with a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have just the idea to solve that.”

A brief span seemed like an eternity when sleep doesn’t come easy to you. Tonight was a different case; thoughts were completely clear and concise. In much need of sleep, you steal the chance to savour in this clarity and serenity for as long as you could. To feel his warmth, arm gently resting on your abdomen and the occasional whiff of his deodorant from his ebony shirt you’re dressed in. If this was what bliss feels like, you never want it to go away. Your eyes grow heavy, flickering into darkness due to exhaustion from a long day of rehearsals. At once, you’re struck with the reminder of the idea you had this afternoon. It is more of a favour, involving none other than Bruce. There’s a tinge of guilt whenever favours are involved because you never liked asking for help. You were furiously independent and responsible, relying on others was out of the question. Yet, Bruce has always seemed to find a way to weave himself in your mistakes and problems, constantly there to help out. You have to remind yourself this isn’t about you. It’s for the kids. Special guest, Bruce Wayne, playboy and billionaire. Sounds awesome.

As your consciousness begins ebbing away, you feel Bruce shift from beside you, grasp tightening upon your waist. Before your dazed mind could even fully process that he was in the midst of a nightmare, his eyes are wide open, heart-pounding and it seizes him up instantly. With deep breaths, he closed his eyes once more, unable to shake the feeling of dread that rattles in him. Then, a sudden cold touch to his arm—he jumps and snaps his head to look over his shoulder.

It’s you, still laid in bed with a prominent frown upon your brows. Your hand squeezes his forearm and all he feels is instant relief. His heart still pounds, not in fear but with affection. “Are you okay?” you drawled as you watch his lingering hand, fingers weaved between the strands of hair. The silver ones glint under the low light, contrasting the deep brown ones. You notice how his hair had grown along with his five o’clock shadow becomes more evident by the days. His face away from you, finally nodding in response to your question. “Yeah, just... a bad dream. His voice is subdued as he shifts under the sheets, head leaning against the headboard. Despite your weakened state, you bring yourself to sit up, twisting your body to face him properly. "You wanna talk about it?” you say, patting his shoulder lightly in a comforting manner. You watch him rub his eyes, exhale tightly and shake his head. “No. Anything but that.”

His response comes out almost harsh but Bruce doesn’t mean for it to be perceived in that way. His dream was the usual, the normal ones he’s used to by now but in times of stress overwork, they have started to become more intense and violent. This time it involved you, for the first time, and he watched you vividly get shot in the forehead—trails of his memory as Batman when he encountered you at the burger restaurant with the muzzle of a gun inches away from you. It haunts him to think that if the circumstances were different if you hadn’t texted him those dreaded four words, you might be dead.

He certainly is not telling you about the dream. Never in a million years.

Bruce turns to you and you’re still staring at him, worry carved deep in your furrowed brows. Change of topic was merely necessary at this point. “So, how has school been? The kids still mean to you?” Classic Bruce, always sweeping his problems under the antique Persian rug. You don’t blame him because you wouldn’t know better.

It was your turn to sigh at the mention of school but since tonight’s pillow talk is heading towards your job as an English teacher at GHS, you might as well use the opportunity to pitch in your plan. “Still mean, but the drama club kids are really great,” You thumb the edge of the blanket, unable to hide your growing smile. “Speaking of which, the annual play is next Friday and they have been rehearsing all week but,” you paused as you watched his right brow gradually lift. “No one comes for it. Like, no one and I hate to see all their efforts just thrown out the window like that—”

“So, you want me to go for it.”

You blinked, wondering if your explanations were too obvious of its underlying intent or Bruce could just read you like an open book. You won’t be surprised if it’s the latter.

“If it’s no biggie. You don’t have to because I know you’re very busy but I don’t want the special guest to end up being the Big Belly Burger mascot.” Your smile widens and Bruce chuckles. Hell, it’s probably past midnight and you’re still able to find ways to be terribly funny. Literally terrible. After a beat of silence, he clears his throat. “I’ll clear my schedule.” It didn’t need much anticipation or thought because despite everything going on in his life, he knows he’ll do just about anything for you. You’re practically beaming at him and he finally sees it’s all worth it in the end. “Thank you, Bruce.” Your voice is sweet, and it makes his heart swell ever so slightly.

He sometimes wishes the two of you weren’t trapped in this loophole of unsaid confessions and hidden strong emotions for the other.

It almost comes naturally when he leans to you and presses a swift kiss to your forehead. Instead, it’s contradicting everything the two of you consider normal. He isn’t thinking straight and now your smile has disappeared, mouth agape and eyes very wide. Your brain stops.

Uh, what the hell just happened?

It hits him like a punch to the gut and the growing awkward silence is deafening. Yet, he doesn’t apologise because if he does, it doesn’t mean anything when in reality, it means so much more than just an accidental gesture. You don’t mention anything because you don’t objectify his actions. Kissing Bruce was fine when there are no strings attached but a peck to the forehead is way too affectionate for the man.

Before the both of you begin to overthink the events of a few moments ago, Bruce’s rational conscience kicks in and he clears his throat. “Get some sleep. You had a long day today.” He pats you on the shoulder awkwardly and you hum, shifting your head to lay back on the pillow. “Yesterday.” you correct him as it’s well past midnight. He chuckles, now laying flat on his back as he stares at the ceiling. Silently, the two of you agree to forget whatever happened a minute ago and to just...sleep it off.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman x reader #batman imagine #justice league #pining bagels repeat

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 5 years ago

Text

Thin Ice || Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Midtown’s Decathalon team decides to go on a snow trip and Peter does his best to impress Y/N even though Brad Davis has his eyes on her too.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s note: DUDE this is so fun to write. This will be a mini-series so expect more parts and if you wanna request something for this series, just send em cause I’m open to all ideas. I’m a big snowboard fan so hopefully, you guys enjoy! Also, the ski resort Keystone is real and I go snowboarding there so I can definitely include pictures of my trip to paint visuals for yall.

Warning: Foul language and mentions of blood

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || to be continued

The Decathalon Team got to choose where they wanted to go for their winter trip and for this year, they got to choose between a ski resort in Colorado or another extremely terrifying Europe trip. The overwhelming results of the vote was for the ski trip since no one wanted a repeat of last year (especially Mr. Harrington) so the students packed up their snow clothes and headed to Colorado.

Out of everyone going on the trip, you were by far the most excited. You weren’t originally from New York so something about snow always seemed magical in a ‘hypothermia isn’t so bad’ kind of way. While you and others were super psyched to go, there was one person that dreaded the trip and that was Peter.

He didn’t know how to ski or snowboard and most importantly, he hated the cold. The idea of going on vacation meant escaping what you were used to, so what was the point of leaving New York, a placed that snows heavily, for another colder place?

“ Need any help Pete?” You smiled as Peter stopped struggling with his ski boots.

You. You were 100% the only reason why he was going on this trip in the first place. His heart swelled as he took a quick look of you up and down; even though you were wearing a bulky snow jacket, you still took his breath away.

Peter snapped out of his longing gaze and stomped his foot hard into the slot, making you and Ned jump slightly.

“ I think I got it. Thanks though,” Peter smiled as he huffed, a bit out of breath. Peter looked down at your board and he furrowed his eyebrows,” you’re gonna snowboard? I thought Mr. Harrington said we were all taking ski lessons?”

You shook your head and unclipped your board, holding it tall next to you,” Nope. Brad and I asked Mr. Harrington if we could go down the Flying Dutchman before lunch and he said as long as we stay together we should be fine.”

You and Brad were always two peas in a pod since your families were extremely close and that worried Peter. Peter felt that everything Brad was, Peter wasn’t, especially when it came to sports or natural charm. It was something Peter struggled with a lot; being a superhero gave him the gift of dominating the athletic world if he wanted to but if he wasn’t a jock then, why should he be one now?

“ Wait, that slope is a blue. Isn’t that like hard?” Ned asked as you shrugged, motioning to Brad that you were ready to head out.

“ Not when you’re a master snowboarder like me,” You teased as you looked down at Peter, who was struggling to get up from his skis,” here, let me help you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Peter didn’t even have time to stop you before you grabbed his hands and helped him stand up straight, adjusting to the balance nicely. You smiled sweetly at him as you brushed off a clump of snow rested near his shoulder, lightly brushing up on his neck with your ungloved hand.

“ Nice Pete, look at you! You’re practically the next Chloe Kim...if you were a girl and a snowboarder!” You exclaimed as you ignored their confused expressions.

“ Hey Y/N, ready to go?” Brad asked as he looked between the three of you,” stay safe out there fellas. I heard the bunny slope is extra icy today. I Don’t want to see any of you get a bloody lip.”

You slapped Brad’s shoulder as you turned your attention back to Peter and Ned,” Don’t listen to him, you guys are going to do great. Save us a seat at the lodge, yeah?”

You gave a small wave before following Brad through the snow towards the ski lift as Peter glared down Brad.

“ He is always ruining my plans! I thought he was supposed to be gone for basketball training. I was going to be super romantic and teach her how to ski like Dove Cameron in Cloud 9,” Peter sighed as he fumbled with his skis already.

“ First of all, that’s not what Cloud 9 is about at all. Secondly, why would she waste her time at ski lessons if she already knows how to do that and snowboard?” Ned asked, thinking his friend couldn’t get any dumber,” but you have a better shot than Brad, she’s like your twin but cooler.”

“ You sure about that?” MJ asked out of nowhere, startling both Peter and Ned,” Y/N is literally out of your league and Brad’s. Everyone on the science team has had a thing for her so what makes you so special?”

Again, his friend was right. He could think of a handful of his classmates liking Y/N at some point which made his heart sink.

“ You’re right. There is nothing special about me besides you know…,” Peter shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pocket,” I just like her a lot, I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Peter was usually never so down on himself, especially when it came to girls his age. With his past crushes, they were way easier to talk to but when it came to you, he was a blubbering mess. It didn’t make it any easier that you were the full embodiment of the ‘girl next door’ with your heart of gold and witty charm.

“ You just got to impress her at her own game,” Ned said as Peter looked up at him, nodding,” girls love guys who go out of their way to be interested in something they like. Show her how much skiing skills you can get down in a few hours and she’ll be all yours.”

It wasn’t the best idea but Peter had no other option than to learn how to ski in one-afternoon session. While MJ said that Peter was completely hopeless, Peter knew that the first step at winning your heart was to learn how to not embarrass himself.

That whole afternoon, Peter tried, again and again, to get down the bunny slope without falling on his face. Everyone said skiing was way easier than snowboarding but Peter just couldn’t control his speed going down the bunny slope. Time and time again, Peter would make it halfway down the beginner slope with ease but panicked towards the end and fell. At the end of the lesson, his knees and elbows were completely bruised but that didn’t stop him from trying.

While Peter was doing his best to get down the bunny slope, you and Brad had just finished with your three-mile one. You clipped off your board and took off your goggles, looking at yourself through Brad’s reflective ones.

“ I look like I just went through a hurricane,” you laughed as you took out your messy ponytail and tried to pat down your hair,” did you have fun?”

Brad took off his goggles and shook his hair with his hand, letting the freshly fallen snow fall out,” Are you kidding? That was awesome, especially that part where the slope dropped off towards the end. I’m impressed that you could keep up, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“ Me? I’m impressed you even made it down the mountain since half the time you were freaking out about ‘Oh what if there’s an avalanche!’” You mimicked as the two of you shared a heartfelt laugh.

Brad pushed your shoulder lightly as the two of you headed towards the lodge where everyone else in your group would be waiting. You checked the nearest clock tower and realized that you still had thirty minutes before lunch.

“ Hey, I think they’re still at the bunny slope, did you wanna go see how they’re doing?” You asked as Brad nodded enthusiastically.

“ I’ll be surprised if they made it in through the afternoon with all of their limbs intact.”

Peter stood at the top of the bunny slope, breathing in and out slowly. He could see you and Brad walking towards the bottom where some of your classmates were already waiting.

“ Maybe I shouldn’t do this. What if I fall and she thinks I’m some clumsy idiot?” Peter asked as MJ rolled her eyes.

“ Look, the worst thing that can happen is that you fall, big whoop. Also, you can’t back out. There is no other way down since the ski lift just closed so…” MJ shrugged simply and patted Peter’s back a bit too hard,” Woman up.”

MJ slid her goggles down over her eyes and gave him a last look before going down with Cindy. Now, Peter was all alone as MJ’s words replayed in his head. The worst thing that can happen is that he fell. He replayed that over and over again before he took a deep breath, secured his helmet, and made his way down the slope.

You watched Peter go down halfway before turning to your friends, who had already put their skis away. You threw your board and your helmet down and placed your hands on your hips, watching everybody’s tired expression.

“ How did you guys do? Wasn’t it exhilarating!” You asked excitedly as everyone at once talked about their day.

“ Considering that there weren’t any serious injuries, I’d say it was the best day ever,” Mr. Harrington said as he smiled with pride,” I’m glad you and Brad are back in one piece. I was worried I wouldn’t see you two at lunch.”

“ Yeah, we’re surprised too! Actually, there was one part of the slope where-”

The whole time you were talking, you didn’t notice how fast Peter was coming down the slope and all of his practice on a smooth landing had completely left his mind. Peter couldn’t control his route and once he knew that he was headed straight towards you, all he could do was brace himself.

Before anyone could react, you felt Peter collided straight into you, his helmet immediately making contact with your face as the force made the two of you crash backwards. Peter’s skiis hit you so hard, you could feel all of the air leave your body and once again after your back hit the snow behind you.

Everyone around you gasped as you and Peter cried out in pain, a whole vocabulary of curse words came out of Peter’s mouth once he realized what he had done.

“ Holy shit Y/N are you okay?” Peter asked as he was the first to get up, but tripped over his skiis, sending him back into the snow.

You felt like you were seeing stars but you tried your best to not cry in front of all your peers. Brad and Cindy rushed towards you as his eyes grew big.

“ Oh my god Y/N, your lips is bleeding,” Cindy shouted which made Peter feel like he had just committed murder.

You touched your lip tenderly and looked down at your hand to see that it was bleeding a lot. You stared at the blood and then looked to Peter who looked like he was about to cry. Even though you were in a lot of pain and you definitely had a concussion, you didn’t want Peter to feel bad. He was always so sweet to you and the last thing he needed was to feel guilty.

You shook your head and tried to stand up but you were too dizzy,” No! I’m fine really I’m okay. Check on Peter if he’s okay, I-I feel great.”

“ Y/N I am so so so sorry-”

“No Pete I’m the one who needs to be sorry,” you said as you let out a soft laugh,” I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings. Don’t even feel bad you weren’t going that fast.”

If Peter didn’t feel guilty enough, your words made him feel even worse especially since he knew you were lying to spare his feelings. Even after getting slammed, you were still apologizing up and down like you were somehow to blame.

Brad kneeled beside you and place a single finger out,” Okay Beautiful, follow my finger, I’m gonna make sure you didn’t hurt that pretty little head of yours.”

Peter’s stomach twisted into knots but you just nodded and followed his finger, doing your best to do as you were told while Mr. Harrington went to get a medical assistant.

“ Y/N I’m gonna ask you some questions,” Brad said as you nodded once again, your eyes drifting towards Peter.

“ What’s your name and where are you?”

“ Y/N L/N. Keystone Colorado.”

“ Where do you go to school?”

“ Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

“ Great, who is the President of the United States?”

“ Ugh Brad. Don’t make me say his name.”

Everyone around you sighed happily as Brad laughed and nodded,” Yep, she’s okay. I’ll be back with something for your lip okay?”

Brad turned to Peter and looked him up and down, almost sizing him up,” Try not to injure her again when I’m gone, Parker.”

Peter nodded and kneeled next to you with a sad expression plastered on his face. He felt like he had ruined everything with you but you were just too nice to tell him off. He was thinking that you were probably so pissed at him when in reality, you felt the complete opposite.

“ Don’t listen to Brad, he’s just protective,” You said as Peter pressed a thick napkin that was in his pocket from this morning and pressed it down on your bleeding lip,” please don’t beat yourself up about this Pete. We both know it was just an accident.”

All Peter could do was blurt out again how sorry he was for hurting you. If this didn’t make you hate him, he wondered what else you could withstand. Hollywood had lied to him; It wasn’t like the movies where the cliche of falling over each other was romantic cause Peter felt absolutely mortified.

“ Stop being so nice to me. I don’t deserve it,” Peter huffed as he examined your face,” I could’ve killed you.”

“ That’s a little dramatic don’t you think?” You asked as you scooted closer towards Peter and placed your hand on his knee to leverage yourself,” if I can survive the blip and Calculus, I think I’ll be more than okay.”

Peter tensed up as you touched his knee lightly and with Brad and Mr. Harrington coming back with a first aid kit, he quickly pulled away from you, leaving you embarrassed.

“ Here, do you need me to carry you over to the lodge so you’re more comfortable?” Brad asked as Peter looked away and turned towards Ned, who was whispering to him.

“ I’m okay to walk now,” You said softly as Brad extended out his hand for you to hold. You looked back at Peter who stared at you before turning away again, shaking his head. You held Brad’s hand as he helped you up and once you were on your feet, he didn’t let go of your hand.

“ Don’t worry, Dr. Davis is going to patch you up,” Brad smiled as the two of you walked hand in hand back to the lodge.

Peter slumped down in the snow next to MJ who was quick to comment.

“ Apparently falling isn’t the worst thing to happen after all.”

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misterewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

#Original Work #original story #my work #Mirrors edge story

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sunshineandaisies · 4 years ago

Text

Tuesday

Words: ~3.3k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injury, a tad bit angsty?

Note: I haven’t written anything new in the marvel fandom for 4+ years now, so this is me dipping my toes back into it before I start working on new series that I have planned. And because I hate myself sometimes, I decided to write something for a character I’ve never written for, our smol bean peter. Hopefully I did okay???

A typical Tuesday for you was, well, normal.

You’d go to school, mildly pay attention in class, and do your best to stay out of whatever drama was currently overtaking the halls of Midtown High. When the final bell of the day rang, you walked home with your headphones in, playing loud music to drown out the sounds of the city. You’d get home from school, maybe have a less than healthy snack, and watch a random television program until your mom was trying to pull you away from the couch for dinner. After dinner was eaten - and the dishes were cleaned and drying, because you needed that weekly allowance money - you shut yourself in your room to work on homework and to subsequently procrastinate that homework by playing mobile games on your phone. Usually, you’d end up falling asleep with one of your textbooks open to the page you’d been in the middle of reading and with your phone slowly dying in your hand because Candy Crush was lighting up your screen and draining the battery.

Pretty uneventful, right?

This Tuesday, however, was anything but uneventful.

You should’ve known from the moment that Peter Parker spilled chocolate milk on your white top at lunch that the day was going to be anything but your typical Tuesday. It only got worse when he shoved a handful of napkins onto your chest, dabbing at the stain while stammering and blushing and being so frustratingly cute that you couldn’t bring yourself to yell at him for practically pawing at your chest in the middle of the cafeteria.

It didn’t end there.

Your locker jammed between fifth and sixth period, preventing you from grabbing the calculus assignment that you had spent hours trying to complete over the weekend and making you unable to turn it in on time. The worn strap of your backpack finally broke on your walk home from school, and you were forced to carry the heavy bag in your arms, making the limbs numb and tingly by the time you finally reached your apartment. Your mom had picked up a rare night shift at the hospital at the last minute, leaving you to fend for yourself for dinner – which, in normal circumstances, would have been fine, but the Moroccan place down the street that you ordered from had given you the wrong food and you were too hungry to call them and have the order corrected.

You figured that would be the end of it. You figured that there was absolutely no way that anything could go wrong as you spent the rest of your evening actually working on homework, sprawled lazily across your bed, and bopping your head in time to the music coming through your headphones.

Oh, how wrong you were.

It had to be nearing midnight when you were startled from your chemistry homework by the sound of banging on the fire escape outside your window. You paused your music, slightly startled and more than a little confused. Sure, there were occasionally stray cats that somehow found their way to the metal platform outside your window, and sure, sometimes those cats where assholes and pushed each other around every now and then – but this…that thump either came from a very, very large cat, or someone was outside your room.

You got your answer when a very sweaty, very tired looking Peter Parker stumbled through your window and landed face down on the floor, groaning softly. Your mouth soundlessly opened and closed, opened and closed, opened and closed as you tried to find your words, but the Spider-Man suit that he wore and the red mask clutched tightly in his hand had left you absolutely speechless.

You easily stared at him for five minutes, trying to process what had just happened. Did Peter Parker really just crawl through your window and then pass out on your floor? Was Peter Parker fucking Spider-Man? Was Spider-Man – the Spider-Man – in your bedroom? Did Spider-Man touch your boobs today?

“What the fuck?” you finally spoke, startling Peter as he looked up at you with wide chocolate eyes before panic sunk in and he jumped up to his feet abruptly, which in turn only served to startle you more and make you repeat, “What the fuck?”

“Y/N?” he asked, as if he wasn’t sure that it was truly you that sat in front of him. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered as he started to pace, pulling at his hair nervously. “Mr. Stark is gonna kill me.” He glanced back up you, eyes still wide. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’re Spider-Man,” you countered, eyes flitting over the tight suit before focusing on the mask in his hand. “You’re Spider-Man, Peter.”

“Okay, so- so maybe it is what it looks like, but I-” He cut himself off, and you could tell that he’s struggling to explain the entire thing away. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, yes. I’m Spider-Man, but you can’t tell anyone. Please, Y/N. No one else can know about this.”

You nodded slowly, abandoning your textbook and sitting at the edge of your bed as you stared at one another awkwardly. “Don’t tell anyone. Got it. But, like… Are you- Can I ask questions?”

“Um, yeah, I- I guess.” You watched him scratch the back of his neck nervously as his checks tinted pink. “Ask away.”

“First question – why are you in my room?” It seemed like the obvious question to ask. If Peter – Spider-Man – hadn’t crawled through your window in the first place, you wouldn’t even need to ask him any questions at all.

You had to bite back a laugh as you watched his eyes widen momentarily as he finally took in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the few photos you had of you and your friends hanging on the walls and the stack of books that sat on your desk just waiting to be read. “Your room? I, uh- To be fair, when I crawled through the window, I thought it was my room.” You opened your mouth to interject, but he continued, “I live here. Well, not here, here, but in this building. With my aunt May. We live here. In this building. I must’ve swung to the wrong fire escape.”

“Swung?” you asked, his explanation providing more questions than answers. “Like with your webs?” He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “And you swing around the city and fight bad guys?” Another nod. “You’re Spider-Man.”

He paused, as if thinking his answer through. “Yeah.”

“This is wild,” you commented more to yourself, leaning in closer and poking at the material of his suit. He stayed completely still as you prodded the suit some more, feeling the thick fabric beneath the pads of your fingertips. You let out a short laugh and looked up at him, repeating, “You’re Spider-Man.” You laughed freely then, and the little smile he gave you was enough to make your heart pound wildly in your chest. “Don’t worry,” you assured him once the laughter died down, “your secret’s safe with me, Parker.”

You could almost feel the tension and nervous energy leave his body, and you watched as his shoulders slumped forward, finally relaxed since he first realized that you saw him as Spider-Man. “Thank you, Y/N. I know I’m asking a lot, but I- It’s really important.”

You smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Parker. My lips are sealed.” You mimed zipping your lips and locking them before throwing away the key, and it made a small burst of laughter escape his lips. “Besides, you have more things to worry about than me telling the world that you double as a superhero after school hours. Like our Spanish test in first period tomorrow.”

“Spanish test t- Shit!” You watched his eyes widen again at the reminder of the test that you both had to take in eight hours, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he quickly scrambled towards the window. Halfway through your window, he glanced back at you with a soft smile curling his lips. “I, uh- Thanks again, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, Spider-Man.” You winked, and he was gone, crawling up the wall to the fire escape above yours. You crouched down at your window and listened for a moment longer as the sounds of Peter hauling his body over the rails of the fire escape and the opening of a different window – presumably his – echoed through the alley between your apartment building and the building next to it. Knowing that he’d be able to hear you, you called out, “Goodnight, Peter,” and shut your window.

After that night, your typical Tuesday was anything but normal.

Your mom started to regularly work night shifts on Tuesdays, and while there were no more mishaps with incorrect takeout orders, no more chocolate milk spilt on shirts, and no more jammed lockers, there was Spider-Man.

Peter was quick to realize that every Tuesday night, you would leave your window slightly open just for him regardless of how cold the autumn air outside was. Some nights, he crawled through your window as early as eight. Other nights, you didn’t see him until nearly midnight. Some nights, you would spend hours going over chemistry and calculus homework with him – because, seriously, Peter Parker may just be the smartest sixteen-year-old you’ve ever met – and discussing his latest superhero escapades. Other nights, you simply sat together on your bed, sharing candy as you talked about school, friends, family, and everything else that happened to come up in the course of your conversation.

The easy friendship you had formed with Peter had confused a few people, to say the least.

His best friend, Ned, had openly stared at you with wide eyes the first day you sat beside Peter in the cafeteria, and your friends looked at you with confused expressions before quickly following suit and taking a seat at the table. MJ – who you thankfully already had somewhat of a tentative friendship with thanks to a history project during freshman year – simply lifted her gaze to you, shrugged her shoulders in greeting, and returned to the book she was reading. Flash was quick to make a mean comment about Peter once he noticed you and your friends sitting at the table, but after you made a passing threat of sharing his Spider-Man fanfiction with the school, he scurried back to his own table with his tail between his legs.

Peter, though. Peter looked at you with such a tender expression that made your heart flutter uncontrollably in your chest and your cheeks flood with warmth as you settled into your seat beside him. You playfully knocked your shoulder against his and made a quip about Spanish class that made him laugh before falling into easy conversation with the others, though your mind never drifted far from the way that your thigh was pressed against Peter’s or the way that his pinky finger would occasionally brush over yours.

That first day you sat with Peter in the cafeteria had a domino effect. Over the course of a few weeks, you spent an increasing amount of time with Peter, both during school and outside of school hours. You walked home from school with Peter every day (or at least every day that he didn’t disappear for Spider-Man duties); you joined him, Ned, and MJ for movie nights on Fridays; and you even had dinner with Peter and May on the rare nights that you spent hours studying in Peter’s bedroom rather than alone in yours.

But the domino effect didn’t stop at just changing how you typically spent your days.

Without any warning, you found yourself falling painfully in love with the nerdy boy that lived in the apartment above yours and that masqueraded as a crime fighting superhero in the evening and on weekends (though you knew that if he were really needed during school hours, he would find an excuse to disappear from class for as long as Spider-Man was needed).

You thought about telling Peter, you really did. Every time he crawled through your window, a wide smile on his face and his cheeks tinted pink from the exertion of swinging through the city, you thought about telling him how he made your heart race in the best way. Every time his fingers brushed against your arm as you walked home or across your fingers as you sat in the cafeteria, your thought about telling him how he made your skin tingle pleasantly with just the slightest touch. Every time he appeared at your place with sandwiches from Delmar’s and spent hours on your couch watching old sitcoms, you thought about telling him how moments like that were what made you happiest.

You thought about telling Peter, but you never found the courage to speak up.

Your friendship with Peter was too valuable to risk losing it because of your feelings, and you didn’t miss the way that he would look at MJ when she wasn’t paying attention, the way that he would go out of his way to speak to her in the halls between classes, the way that he seemed so in tuned to everything that she was doing and saying. Your feelings would fade eventually, so you kept them to yourself and told yourself you were content with just friendship.

It was only fitting that it was a Tuesday night when everything changed nearly three months after Peter mistakenly crawled through your window.

Despite the December chill and the light dusting of snow on the fire escape outside your window, you left the window cracked open just enough for Peter to easily pull it open and crawl inside. It may have made your room almost unbearably cold, but it was nothing that fuzzy socks, a comfy sweatshirt, and a heated blanket couldn’t fix.

It was later than usual when Peter finally arrived, stumbling through your window when he finally managed to open and it, and it didn’t escape your notice that his fingers had left bloody streaks on the glass pane of the window.

“Peter!” You heart leapt to your throat as you scrambled from your bed to support him, and he slumped forward, struggling to stay on his feet. “Pete, c’mon. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Stabbed,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “He had a knife.”

You were not prepared for this. Absolutely not. No one had ever told you that being friends with a superhero would mean them stumbling into your apartment at two in the morning with a fucking stab wound. “Okay. Uh…” You led him to your bed, helping him lay down before scanning your eyes over his body. And just as he said, there was a large slash across his abdomen, his red suit staining an even darker red as he bled from the wound. “Shit, I- Pete what do I do? Tell me how to help you.” You tugged at his suit with shaking hands, trying – and failing – to pull the material away from his body. “How do I take this fucking thing off?”

You stepped back as his hand pressed against the spider symbol on his chest, and the suit instantly enlarged, allowing you to pull it away from his body and to bunch the material around his hips. (If it hadn’t been entirely inappropriate given the circumstances, you most certainly would have taken your time appreciating the sculpted muscles on Peter’s chest and abdomen).

You inspected the damage, your eyes burning with unshed tears and the fear you felt increasing exponentially the longer you looked at the gash that marred his skin. It wasn’t too deep, but it was deep enough to nearly send you into a panic. “We should call 911, Pete,” you told him once you found your voice, though it was still thick with fear. “I- I don’t think I can help you. I don’t know how to-”

“Hey,” he whispered, his warm hand curling around yours and squeezing reassuringly. “I know you can. I watched you stitch that pig up in biology at the end of the dissection a few weeks ago.”

“I just didn’t want to leave it cut open like that,” you defended, though you knew there was really no need to. “But a dead pig is much different than a living human, Peter. I don’t…” You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand even tighter. “I’m scared, Pete.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I promise.” He let out a hiss of pain, his jaw clenched tightly. “Your mom has a first aid kit, right?” You nodded. “Get it.”

You did as you were told, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet in your mom’s bathroom before returning to Peter. You worked slowly after you had cleaned his wound as well as you could and threaded the needle. Your hands shook as you started stitching the wound back together, careful to not make it any worse than it already was. Peter hissed in pain each time you poked the needle through his skin, but he whispered reassurances to encourage you. Soon, his abdomen had been stitched together, and while it certainly wasn’t pretty and would definitely scar, it looked stable.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do wi-” he began, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you hissed. “Do you have any idea how fucking terrified I am right now?” The tears you’d been holding back while you stitched him up finally spilled from your eyes. “Do you have any idea how much it fucking hurt to see you like this?”

He sat up on the bed, bracing himself on his elbows. You didn’t miss the way he winced in pain from the movement. “Y/N, I-”

“I’m not done talking, Peter,” you snapped, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “I get that you’re Spider-Man, that you feel responsible to protect the city and do whatever it takes to stop the bad guys, but- Fuck, Pete! You could die!”

“But I won’t!”

“You don’t know that!” you shouted, your lip trembling as you sat next to him on the bed. You lowered your voice to a whisper and repeated, “You don’t know that, Pete. You just don’t. Tonight, you got lucky. But what if next time, instead of a knife, they have a gun, and you get shot.”

He glanced up at you sheepishly, his chocolate eyes pleading with you to stop crying. “I heal fast,” he tried to reason, but it wasn’t enough to appease you. You looked away, but a gentle hand on your cheek brought your attention back to him. “Besides, I’m pretty motivated to not die. I can’t take you on a date if I’m dead.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him before promptly snapping it shut. Did he really just say that? Was it the pain and the exhaustion talking, or did he really mean it? “Date? Did you just- What did you say?” It was definitely the pain and exhaustion talking, right? It had to be.

He leaned forward and rested his head on your shoulder, and you froze, concentrating on the way his warm breath ghosted over the skin of your neck. “A date, Y/N. Uh, if you- I mean, only if you’d want-” You giggled as he stumbled over his words, tilted your head slightly to rest atop his. The action must have soothed his nerves, because he took your hand in his and confidently said, “I wanna take you on a date, Y/N.”

Your lips curled up into a wide smile, unable to contain how absolutely giddy you felt in that moment. “I’d like that, Pete,” you told him. “But we really need to have a conversation about superhero safety.”

He laughed, but it was cut off by a groan of pain. “We can probably do that.”

And unsurprisingly, your first date was on a Tuesday.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem!reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker reader insert #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man reader insert #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction

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hailing-stars · 4 years ago

Text

@febuwhump day 27 “I wish I never gave you a chance.”

sneaky computer guts

summary

It isn’t until Peter is out of the garage that he hears footsteps following him. Tony calls out for him, but Peter barely hears it. All he can register is the rage pounding in his ears.

He’s got the hammer raised over his shoulder, and he’s about to bring it down on his laptop when Tony’s hand catches his arm.

“Kid,” says Tony. “We’ve been through this. We don’t execute technology outside of the garage.”

Tony snatches the hammer away from him, and Peter drops his shoulders.

“You don’t understand, Tony,” says Peter. He’s unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. “That computer deleted my paper.”

“Deleted? Or just crashed?”

Peter loses all progress on a term paper due to his computer crashing, and Tony helps him recover, in more ways than one.

“I wish I’d never given you a chance.”

Peter stares at the blank screen on his laptop, and feels like crying. Hours of work. Gone just like that. His paper’s due on Monday, and now, he has nothing but a useless pile of scrap tech parts and a primal rage mixed with grief brewing deep in his chest.

This act of betrayal from his trusty laptop is the last straw.

He stands from the dining room table, where he’d worked through the night to bang out the last half of his paper, and marches towards the garage. Tony looks up from his project when Peter enters his space. He raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything or even try to stop him when he grabs a hammer and promptly leaves.

It isn’t until Peter is out of the garage that he hears footsteps following him. Tony calls out for him, but Peter barely hears it. All he can register is the rage pounding in his ears.

He’s got the hammer raised over his shoulder, and he’s about to bring it down on his laptop when Tony’s hand catches his arm.

“Kid,” says Tony. “We’ve been through this. We don’t execute technology outside of the garage.”

Tony snatches the hammer away from him, and Peter drops his shoulders.

“You don’t understand, Tony,” says Peter. He’s unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. “That computer deleted my paper.”

“Deleted? Or just crashed?”

“Sort of the same thing.”

“Uh, no, it isn’t,” says Tony. “If it’s just crashed auto-save probably saved your paper.”

“Yeah, well, I had auto-save turned off.” He hates admitting it, hates even just standing there, talking with Tony about the loss of his term paper and probably the loss of his good GPA.

“Peter, why?”

“Because it slows my computer down.”

“If auto-save slows your computer down, you needed a new one like months ago,” says Tony. He walks closer to the table, and puts his hand on the screen. By the look on Tony’s face, Peter can tell he’s judging the way his laptop needs Duct tape to hold it together. “Yep. You’re way past due.”

“But I like this one.”

“Peter,” says Tony. “You almost damaged my dining room table trying to destroy it.”

“I was blinded by rage. I see clearly now.”

“Yeah, you’re getting a new one.”

“I’m gonna tell May you’re trying to buy me ridiculous gadgets again.”

Tony has a long history of trying to upgrade Peter’s tech game. Not just Peter’s, either. After the incident where May came home from work and was greeted by the security AI Tony had installed while they were both away, he’s banned from the act of buying or upgrading anything tech related without May’s permission.

“This has been cleared with May for weeks now,” says Tony. “It was actually her idea. Something about her being able to hear that thing running from her bedroom.”

“Great,” says Peter. “Wish you two could’ve conspired against me and acted before I lost my paper.”

“Yeah it’s too bad there’s not a literal tech genius around to help you out.”

“I know,” says Peter, miserably. “Ned and his family are on vacation.”

Tony lightly taps him with the hammer.

“Why? Is there someone else?”

“I hate children,” says Tony.

He grabs Peter’s broken machine from the table, and together they go into the garage to attempt to recover Peter’s grade.

Tony connects the laptop to wires and more wires. He pokes around the computer’s guts with a screwdriver, and watches a giant monitor he’s got some of the wires plugged into.

Peter spins himself around in the wheely chair until his stomach revolts. He stops the chair by putting his foot firmly on the ground, and watches as the room continues to spin on. It’s trippy, so Peter starts spinning himself again, faster this time, and ignoring protests from his stomach.

“For the love god,” grumbles Tony.

His blurred figure gets closer, and suddenly Peter’s chair stops spinning. It takes him a few seconds to realize it’s because Tony has both his hands locked on the armrests, bringing the chair to a stop and putting an end to Peter’s ride.

“When you inevitably injure yourself, I’m not feeling sorry for you.” Tony lets go of the chair, and walks back to where he’s working on recovering Peter’s lost paper.

“Whooaaa,” says Peter, as the colors in the garage blur and spin. Everything stills, and all he has left is a nauseous feeling in his stomach. “We should have a wheely chair race.”

“That sounds like the worst idea,” says Tony, immediately, not even considering.

“Could be fun.”

“Why do I get the feeling the every single one of your dumb injuries starts with you saying exactly that?”

“Maybe experience?” asks Peter.

Tony chuckles, and looks up from the computer guts. Peter follows his gaze to the large monitor. A rush of relief washes over him at the sight of his paper.

“Tony,” says Peter, near tears again. The day has been a wild ride. “You’re a miracle worker.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he says. “I’ll just transfer the file to a flash drive, and you can load it on your new computer.”

“We could just fix up this one.”

Tony gives him a look. “You have a strange attachment to your electronics.”

“Me?” asks Peter. He beckons towards Dum-E.

“That’s completely different,” says Tony. “Dum-E is part of the family. What’s your excuse?”

“Ben bought that computer for me.”

The words slip out before Peter even recognizes it’s the buried truth behind why his laptop crashing threw him into such a state of rage and grief. He feels like crying again, but doesn’t want to make Tony feel awkward, so he keeps talking, in some vain attempt to keep the truth at bay.

“He couldn’t really afford it, you know?” says Peter. “But they were required for incoming freshmen at Midtown, and he really wanted me to go there. He got… so excited when I was accepted, so he got a second job and a credit card… to make sure I could go.”

“He was a good man.”

“Yeah,” says Peter, and that time, he can’t stop the tears.

He turns away from Tony, or tries too. He doesn’t get very far, because Tony pulls him into a hug, and before he knows it, he’s crying into the man’s chest.

“I just really miss him.”

Tony squeezes his arms, and pulls him closer. “I know, kid. He really loved you. It’s clear in everything you do.”

They stand there like that for a while, until Peter stops crying, and he backs out of Tony’s hug.

“He’d be really proud, Pete,” says Tony. His eyes flicker back over to the computer guts. “Maybe we could, uh, try and save the -”

“-No, it’s okay, Tony,” says Peter. He sniffles, and clears his throat. “Probably time to get another one.”

“Okay,” says Tony, his voice softer than before. “Okay, I’ll call the office. Have them send a StarkTop over.”

Peter nods, takes one last look at his old computer, then leaves the garage with Tony.

It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning, next barely the next day, when Peter adds the finishing touches to his paper and carefully closes the screen to his new computer.

He sits in Pepper’s home office, and leans back in the chair, a strange peace and reassurance settling over him.

Today might have been a truly awful day, if he hadn’t had Tony helping him with his paper, and May texting with him after his breakdown, and Pepper offering her the use of her office, so he could concentrate on his paper.

“It’s soundproof,” she had told him. “Otherwise I’d never get anything done in this place.”

Her office is extraordinarily quiet. A center of refuge in the middle of the chaos that is the Stark lake house. It’s so quiet he doesn’t hear footsteps or heartbeats, doesn’t predict the door creaking open until it does.

Tony steps inside. “Hey, kid, how’s the paper?”

“Finished.” Peter grins, happy to have that over and done with.

“Good,” says Tony. He walks across the room, and hands Peter a badly wrapped present. “Made something for you.”

Peter hesitantly accepts the gift, and unwraps it, while Tony shuffles around nervously. Under all the paper is a weird looking picture frame. It’s gears and wires and computer chips.

Inside the frame is a picture of Peter, May, and Ben smiling, on the beach at Coney Island. Peter still remembers that day. Just flashes and unconnected bits. Mostly, he remembers the way Ben laughed, loud and booming and free. It’s a memory that brings a smile to Peter’s face as his fingers glaze the glass covering the photo.

“Do you like it?” asks Tony. “The frame is -”

“-my old laptop?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if it’d be okay,” says Tony. “But I figured it was better than just tossing it.”

Peter stands from Pepper’s desk chair and hugs Tony, keeping the picture and frame locked tight in his grip. “It’s perfect, Tony. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

Peter lets go of him. “Uh, I’m sorry I lost it on you today. I felt fine before, but then suddenly I just wasn’t.”

“Grief is sneaky,” says Tony. “No apology necessary. I’m man enough to handle a few tears. It’s human.”

“Yeah,” says Peter, with a nod. “Guess so.”

“Come on,” says Tony, swinging an arm around him, and leading him out of Pepper’s sanctuary away from chaos. “Let’s celebrate you defeating the term paper.”

“Can we celebrate by you giving me a proofread?”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You’re an old man.”

Tony ruffles his hair, and Peter grins.

It had been a wildly emotional ride of a day. But now it’s over. He’d made it through, thanks to a little help from his family.

#febuwhumpday27 #grief #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #Peter Parker needs a hug

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shipskicksandgiggles · 4 years ago

Note

12 for the physical affection prompt 🥺

okay so this prompt literally unlocked a whole ass memory of the time I almost broke my hand with a high five which I didn’t know I had so thank you for that

prompt: an incredibly loud and painful high five (from this list)

Read Only Two People in the Universe here on AO3

“And the winners of the 14th Annual New York State Academic Decathlon Finals are…”

The room seemed to be holding its breath. Midtown Tech from New York City and Underwood Prep from Albany had tied in the last official round of the tournament. Each team had to send one member to complete a written test independent of their team in under 20 minutes.

Underwood sent a girl named Ashleigh McCorant.

Midtown sent Peter Parker.

“... Midtown Technical High School!”

Harley whooped as the room exploded around him. He saw their group of parents cheering in the crowd, and their team was going apeshit. Even MJ was jumping up and down, which based on the look of it had terrified Flash.

Peter was the only one standing still, completely shocked about the result.

“Peter!” Harley ran up to him and lifted him right off his feet. “You did it! We won!” He spun them around and dipped Peter into a kiss.

“We won,” Peter wheezed. “Holy shit we fucking won.”

He hoisted him up onto his shoulders. “C’mon! Everybody give it up for Midtown’s resident genius!”

The team mobbed them, chanting Peter’s name. Harley felt one hand in his hair while Peter steadied himself. Someone had handed them the trophy, and it got passed up to Peter who held it above his head.

Harley looked up at his boyfriend. He was so happy, his eyes were crinkled up at the sides.

Peter looked down at him, and his smile got impossibly wider.

~~~

At some point, Tony had managed to herd everyone back to the busses with the promise of food back at Stark Tower.

There was a buffet of pizza set up there, and they were able to really celebrate their win without the other team glaring at them from across the room.

Harley was standing at Peter’s shoulder talking to someone’s grandma when Tony pulled him aside.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, kid.”

“What’s-” Harley gasped. “Mama!”

Macy Keener somehow managed not to collapse when her son tackled her. “Hey, sweetie-pie. Saw that you won today.”

His face got red as he huffed. “The real winner is this little darling.” He tugged on Peter’s sleeve. “Hey babe, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Peter turned to look at the woman. “Um, hi. I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

“The Peter Parker my son is dating?”

“Mrs. Keener!” Peter immediately reached out to shake her hand. “Ma’am, I have to say, you raised an absolutely lovely son.”

She leaned back her head to laugh. “I raised a little shit of a son, but I’m glad he turned out well enough to find you, dear.”

Harley squawked, but he didn’t have much sway in this conversation.

His mom ruffled his hair. “You can go socialize. I’ll catch up with you later, but I want to get to know your boyfriend without you here.”

“Mama-”

“Don’t you ‘mama’ me! Shoo!”

Peter reached up to kiss his cheek. “Go on sweetheart, I’ll be fine. Nat was looking for you anyways.”

He only pouted a little before Peter smacked his arm lightly, and he made his way across the room to find Natasha.

~~~

“I’ve heard a lot about you, kid,” Macy commented once Harley was out of earshot.

“I’ve heard more about you, ma’am.”

“You’re good for him.”

Peter hummed with a faint smile on his face. “I love him.”

“Good. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I would never.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

“He misses you.”

She sighed. “I know. How’s New York treating him?”

“He threatened to fight all the rats in the city last week.”

“Oh lordy,” she snorted. “Care to tell me that story?”

He laughed before launching into the whole tale of how they got lost in the Bronx while running errands, and everything had just fallen apart from there.

It didn’t take long for them to bond over the boy that held both of their hearts.

Nearing the end of their conversation, Harley made eye contact with Peter from across the room and motioned for him to come over.

“Looks like he needs you.”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed and held up a finger to tell Harley to wait. “We have to meet back up at some point though.”

“Oh yes. Before you go though, I saw how you won that tournament for your team. High-five!”

He high-fived her, and she scoffed. “Did no one ever teach you how to high-five? The hell was that, city boy?”

“There’s a way to do it properly?”

She looked at him scandalized. “Yes there is! Boy, if you don’t-” She picked up his hand. “So the key is to watch the other person’s elbow and to just go for it. Sweet Jesus, how have you made it this far in life?”

“I have no idea ma’am.”

“Right then. One more time and if I say you’re good, you can go back and see my son.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh for heaven's sake, call me Macy.”

“Of course Macy.”

~~~

Peter was at his side a few minutes after he tried to get him to come over. “We need you to settle a bet,” Harley told him.

He looked between Bucky, Nat, and Harley. “Okay?”

“In theory, if we managed to achieve a sustainable form of space travel, do you think kids will have space meets?”

“Space what?”

Okay,” Nat held up a hand, “your school has swim meets right? Or track meets?”

“Yes?”

“So in theory, do you think schools would make a sport out of space and have meets for it?”

He looked at Bucky. “What the hell?”

Bucky shrugged. “I was just sitting here and these two started yelling at me about space and the logistics of whatever they’re talking about happening.”

“It’s not that likely. Unless schools manage to get funding, it’ll never work. Anyways, what would the sport even be?”

“Don’t-” Bucky started.

“Well-” Steve appeared out of nowhere and started talking about various movements and activities.

The other super soldier sighed heavily. “This has been going on for 10 minutes.”

“Have you tried getting Pepper to reign in her wife?”

“And risk a debate about funding? I’d rather fall off another train.”

Steve paused mid-rant and frowned. “C’mon Buck, don’t say that.”

“Then shut up and I won’t get your boyfriend involved,” he snapped.

Sam would absolutely not tolerate this shit. Steve shut up.

Peter shook his head and guided Harley away from them as well. “I think we’re doing a team photo sometime soon.”

~~~

“I don’t even know why we have to get a team photo,” Harley grumbled after everyone stopped taking pictures. “This feels fake. The one Tony got at the event center was a thousand times better than that.”

“Tony got one at the event center?”

Harley reached for his phone. “He got a few actually.” He started flipping through them.

One was of just the two of them when Harley had gone to grab Peter. The rest were various shots where Peter was up on Harley’s shoulders, some with the trophy and some without.

The last one was Harley’s favorite. It was of the moment Peter looked down at him, the trophy extended above his head, and they were looking at each other like they were the only two people in the universe.

“We make a great team, you know.”

Harley glanced back at the group still hovering around the picture-taking area. “Yeah.”

“Not just them. The two of us,” Peter said as he turned to face Harley. “We are a good team.”

“Hell yeah we are.” Harley held up his hand.

The high-five Peter gave him was loud. It might have even echoed.

“Dude what the fuck? I think my hand is broken!”

He heard his mom laughing. “Did she-”

“Yeah.”

“Peter.”

“Yes dear?”

“I won’t get mad at you under one condition.”

Peter tilted his head. “What condition?”

“Go do that to Sam.”

He grinned and ran off to find the man.

Harley walked over to his mom. “You ruined a perfectly good boyfriend. What am I supposed to do with him now that he has this power?”

Macy just patted him on the back. “I’d say it’s an improvement actually. Now come on, introduce me to the rest of your friends. I promise I won’t teach them that.”

#parkner #harley keener x peter parker #peter parker #harley keener #fluff #established relationship #fluff and humor #sarah tag #ellis writes

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marvelous-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Ferry Rides, Panic Attacks & Cheeseburgers

Summary:

“Pete, you alright?” Happy quietly asks in a worried voice.

Peter snaps his eyes open and nods shakily. “Y-Yeah.” He lies.

Happy turns in his seat as he leans in front of him and looks at his face. “You don’t look it,” he says worriedly. “What’s going on?”

“N-Nothing—I’m fine.” Peter tries to assure him—heck, to assure himself but he can’t get the thought of the ferry ripping in two out of his mind. He can’t fail everyone again—he can’t fail Tony again.

Peter’s art class goes on a field trip to the Statue of Liberty and Happy tags along.

Word Count: 2,490

Genre: whump, humor, hurt/comfort

Link to read on Ao3:

A/N: @webpril day 1: field trip

“We live in New York… and your school trip is to the Statue of Liberty?” Happy questions as they stand in Midtown High’s parking lot at ten in the morning, standing in line, dressed in his usual suit and tie attire with a pair of dark shades, standing out like a sore thumb beside Peter as everyone boards the bus.

“I did tell you where we were going yesterday.” Peter reminds him.

“I know… but a field trip to the Statue of Liberty for art class? You guys couldn’t have gone to a museum or something?”

Peter sighs as he moves ahead further in line, rolling his eyes as he overhears Flash and Abraham bickering over who gets to sit in the back of the bus.

“Do you know what we’re doing anyways?” Happy asks.

Peter shrugs. “I'm not sure. I guess we’re going to study the statue and draw it. Ms. Betzing said something about studying light patterns and shading.”

Happy groans at his side. “You guys couldn’t have pulled up photos of it from Google or something?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Peter says, shooting a smile over his shoulder at him before he boards the bus.

...

It takes them a little over an hour until they reach Battery Park, where they will board the ferry that will take them to Liberty Island across the harbor.

“Alright, class! I want all of you to stick together and stay with your groups—no wandering off and everyone be on your best behavior,” Ms. Betzing says as she hands out the maps of Liberty Island and their ferry passes. “I want you all to sketch out anything that catches your eyes as we go and feel free to take any pictures with your phones for references!”

“What if we get motion sickness?” Someone from their group asks.

Ms. Betzing winces at the question. “Uhm… then you can feel free to wait until we’re off the ferry. I want you all to have a fun time on the trip and we certainly don’t want anyone getting sick today!”

They have to wait a few minutes until the ferry arrives, so Peter decides to pull out his small sketchbook from his backpack to kill some time, joining Ned and MJ over at a nearby bench.

“So, how are things going with shades over there?” MJ asks as she sketches something into her sketchbook.

Peter smirks at the nickname as he looks up at Happy, who’s standing near two of the other chaperones as their teacher talks to them, handing them maps as well. “Uh, okay I guess,” he says.

Happy looks bored, like he’d rather be anywhere else than here right now, and Peter can’t help but feel a little guilty. May had pushed Happy to go on the trip when Peter had her sign the permission slip last week, despite Peter’s protests against the idea of a chaperone, especially Happy being one. It’s not exactly the man’s thing and Peter knows how busy he is, being the head of security at SI and not to mention being Morgan’s part-time babysitter.

“You know, he kinda looks like he’s your bodyguard or something,” Ned adds in.

MJ laughs as she looks up from her sketch. “He does,” she agrees before lowering her voice so only they hear her. “It’s kinda sad that Spider-Man needs one though.” She says, shooting a grin Peter's way, earning a laugh from Ned.

Peter rolls his eyes half-heartedly at their teasing. “He’s not my bodyguard and you guys know it. He’s just here for the trip. May wanted him to go for some reason.”

“Why? Is it like… a bonding thing or something? You did say that she made you two have a ‘guys weekend’ last month.” Ned asks with a frown.

“Yeah, isn’t that when you slipped and broke your ribs on the toilet?” MJ adds.

Peter sighs, looking over at her with an unamused expression. “Thanks for reminding me,”

She smiles with a one-shouldered shrug. “That’s what I’m here for, babe.”

Ned makes a disgusted sound at the pet name. “But seriously, do you think that’s why he’s here? To spend more time with you or something now that he and May are engaged?”

Peter’s smile falters as he looks back over at Happy, who’s now looking at something on his phone with his glasses lowered down near the tip of his nose so he can see the screen. “I don’t know… maybe?”

When the ferry arrives at the port, they all get on and take their seats. Peter sits next to Happy again like he had on the bus and they wait for a few moments as passengers continue to get on board.

“You know, I bet Steve would’ve liked to go on this trip with it involving art and everything.” Happy says, breaking the silence between them.

Peter looks over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

Happy shugs. “He’s into art. He always has a doodle pad on him.”

“I never knew Cap was an artist.”

“He’s not bad, either. He once painted a picture of one of Tony’s cars and gave it to him for Christmas.”

Peter knows the exact painting he’s talking about, the one of the bright red Audi R8 Spyder that’s hung up in Tony’s office at the compound. “Cap painted that one?” Peter asks, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah,” Happy says with a nod.

“Wow,” Peter breathes out as a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Think he’d do a portrait of Spider-Man?” He asks in a quiet tone, only to earn an amused chuckle from Happy.

“You never know. Maybe if you show up for training on time on the weekends.” He says, giving him a knowing look.

He’s got me there. Peter thinks to himself.

By the time the ferry is moving and on its way to Liberty Island, it only takes a few minutes until Peter is hit with a sense of deja vu as the memories of the last time he was on a ferry comes to mind—the fight with Toomes.

And that time… the ferry had split in half, all thanks to Peter screwing everything up.

Which just so happens to be the reason why he tries to avoid going on boats.

Peter swallows hard as he squeezes his hands that are resting on his lap, feeling the knot in his stomach that had formed in the past few minutes tighten. He darts his eyes around the inside of the ferry, looking up at the ceiling to make sure there aren’t any cracks or any signs of it about to split into two. At least he has his web-shooters on him, but what good did they do him the last time.

Tony was the one who saved the ferry… but Tony is now retired from Iron Man, even though Peter knows he’d jump into a suit and fly here as fast as he could—which would take too long since he’s all the way upstate. The ferry would sink in a matter of minutes with all the water pooling in and they would all drown if lifeboats didn’t arrive in time.

The horrifying scene of it all playing out in Peter’s head has him shaking, feeling his chest seize up in fear and dread. He slams his eyes shut as he mindlessly shakes his leg, trying to push away those terrifying images of MJ, Ned, and his classmates floating lifeless in the Hudson.

“Pete, you alright?” Happy quietly asks in a worried voice.

Peter snaps his eyes open and nods shakily. “Y-Yeah.” He lies.

Happy turns in his seat as he leans in front of him and looks at his face. “You don’t look it,” he says worriedly. “What’s going on?”

Peter tries to take in a deep breath in hopes to calm himself down a little but it comes out more like a weak gasp. His chest feels like there’s a rubber band tightly wrapped around it, blocking off any way for air to get in.

“Hey, hey—look at me. Kid? Peter.” Happy whispers urgently as he takes off his shades and gently grabs Peter’s shoulder, suddenly finding himself facing the man’s worried face. “Tell me what’s going on?”

“I-I don’t know,” Peter murmurs as he shuts his eyes again, grateful they’re sitting in the back so none of his classmates see his meltdown. “I-I can’t breathe.”

“You’re having a panic attack,” Happy says in a soft voice that Peter’s heard him use on Morgan many times before. “You’re okay—you’re safe. Just try to breathe.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Try to take a deep breath for me, Pete,” Happy gently tells him.

Peter wills his chest to release its chokehold on him as he tries to suck in a deep, shaky breath.

In one, two, three… out one, two, three. Peter thinks to himself, remembering the breathing exercise Tony taught him one time when he was having a panic attack similar to now.

It takes a few minutes of breathing until Peter feels like he’s not drowning in his own panic anymore, now that his chest has thankfully opened back up. He feels shaky and tired, but he can breathe.

“Feeling better?” Happy asks, brows pulled together in concern.

Peter shakes his head slowly. “Think so… sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Happy says as he grabs Peter’s backpack and zips it open to retrieve a water bottle. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks as he cracks it open and hands it to him.

Peter takes a sip before he sighs. “It’s stupid,” he says.

“It’s not.” Happy reassures.

“I…” Peter pauses and closes his eyes. “I was fine when we got on the ferry… but then my stupid brain went against me and all I could think about was—the ferry splitting in half.”

A look of realization flashes across Happy’s face. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t have to go on this trip if you didn’t want to.”

“I did want to go but I just didn’t think the boat would bother me because I’m with you and everyone else,” Peter admits. “I just… I don’t know...”

“Hey,” Happy says gently. “I get it.

Peter looks up at him and offers a small, weak smile.

When they’re finally off the ferry, Peter follows behind the group with Happy at his side as everyone starts to head further on the island, Lady Liberty standing tall and proud above them, glowing a brilliant soft green in the afternoon sun.

MJ and Ned walk over and join them by a picnic table, thankfully unaware of Peter’s panic attack on the trip over. They all start drawing in their sketchbooks while Happy goes on his phone, even managing to sneak a few pictures of them when Peter isn’t looking.

Peter takes a deep breath in when a warm spring breeze blows past them, feeling it flow through his lungs. He feels a lot better now that he’s on dry land, with his friends and Happy. Sitting here drawing is pretty relaxing, surprisingly too. He’s never been a great drawer but this art class has helped him get a little better to the point that he actually enjoys it.

“Does this look like a pigeon or a rat?” Ned asks with a frown as he holds up his drawing for them to see.

“Definitely a rat,” MJ says with a small smirk. “But with feathers.”

Ned groans as he drops his sketchbook to the table. “I’d like to say that I give up but we have to pass this in at the end of class tomorrow.” He says, earning a chuckle from them.

“I think it looks good, Ned,” Peter offers. “I mean, have you seen the city’s pigeons? Those things are monsters.”

“You got a thing against pigeons?” MJ questions, shooting him a grin.

Happy chuckles from beside him. “He’s still sore about that one time one swiped his sandwich from him.”

Ned laughs at that and Peter holds his arms out in defense. “It was a sandwich from Delmar’s! No one steals my sandwich and gets away with it.”

“It got away, didn’t it?” MJ asks.

Peter’s shoulders slump with a sigh. “Yeah.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle as she looks back at her drawing.

...

The afternoon passes by in a blur and before they know it, it’s already time for them to head back. They’re now waiting in line as everyone boards the ferry once again and Peter is dreading getting back on.

“How about we hang back here for a little bit and let everyone else go on ahead?” Happy offers, seeming to sense his dread.

Peter raises an eyebrow at him. “But we have to get back to school.”

“Sure you can. I’ll sign you out for the rest of the day if you want.”

“You can?” Peter asks a little hopefully. He honestly doesn’t think he can get back on that boat right now and then go through another couple of hours at school.

“Yeah, let me go talk to your teacher then we’ll grab some lunch.” Happy tells him before he walks away from him to find Ms. Betzing.

It only takes Happy a few minutes before he’s back. “You’re all set.” He says.

“Really?” Peter asks, a little surprised at how easy it was.

“Yeah. She just had me sign a form,” Happy says as he nods his head in the direction of the group. “You wanna say goodbye to your friends?”

Peter shakes his head. “I’ll just text them later.”

...

Not even twenty minutes later, they’re seated outside of the Crown Cafe, enjoying two all-American burgers with a side of fries and two sodas.

“You know… you didn’t have to sign me out the rest of the day. We’re going to have to get back on the ferry anyways.” Peter says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

“I know,” Happy says with a nod as he takes a sip of his soda. “But I thought you could use a break and our ride back is on his way.”

Peter raises an eyebrow to ask, only to be cut off when someone yells, “Hey, look! It’s Iron Man!” And below and behold, Iron Man suddenly drops down from the sky, landing across the way from them and drawing a crowd.

“We couldn’t have swam back to the city? Or what about a helicopter?” Peter sarcastically asks, turning back to Happy.

Happy shrugs with a smile. “I thought about the helicopter but I know May wouldn’t approve.”

Peter sighs before he takes another bite out of his burger.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 5 years ago

Text

Déjà vu

Character: Bucky Barnes x Tall!Reader

(There really isn’t any plot based around the reader’s height. But I wanted to highlight it because there’s not enough tall girl representation. And that’s that.)

Summary: Bucky thought his days of memory loss were done. But after a serious head injury, he can’t seem to remember anything past his time in Wakanda. But he’s starting feel like his life is missing more than just memories.

Word Count: 3,000 - One Shot

Bucky could hear people arguing. Why did it sound like they were all hovering above him?

It definitely wasn’t helping his excruciating headache. His skull felt like it was trying to split in half.

“Could you all just shut up?” He grumbled.

Finally he found the urge and strength to open his eyes.

When he blinked his vision back into focus and slowly sat up, everything around him went quiet.

Steve, Tony, Natasha, and Sam were all watching him with concern.

“What the hell are you all looking at?” Bucky asked.

“Buck,” Steve stepped forward. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

He blinked, realizing now that he didn’t. “Umm…”

“You got knocked the fuck out,” Tony chimed in.

“Tony,” Steve warned with a glare. Then his eyes softened when the turned back to his friend. “Bucky, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Bucky’s headache was getting worse as he tried to remember. “I…I don’t remember.”

“Shit,” Sam muttered under his breath as he crossed his arm.

Suddenly a doctor came in, looking relieved to see Bucky awake.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted. “Glad to see you’re up.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her. The way she was talking to him was all too familiar, too informal. Like she knew him as more than just a patient.

“Who’s this?” Bucky asked Steve.

The group shared a look.

Then he looked around the room, not recognizing anything. “Where the hell am I? Is this a hospital?”

“Bucky, you’ve known Dr. Maxfield for almost two years…” Steve finally spoke. “You’re at the Avengers compound.”

“In Midtown?” Bucky asked as he looked out the window to see nothing but trees, grass, and other low-level buildings.

“No, Bucky. We’re Upstate.” Nat sighed. “This is not good.”

——————————————— Everyone kept tossing around the word amnesia.

But Bucky was worried it was something more – something that Hydra hid away in his brain. Yeah, Shuri had cured him. She was certain of it. But maybe Hydra left something else in there if everything else failed, like a reset button.

But it just didn’t go off right.

Bucky felt fine. But it was everyone else’s concerning looks that were stressing him out.

Even the Avengers looked at him with love and care. He hardly knew them.

Apparently, he was wrong. In the past 5 years, they’d become his comrades, his friends, his family.

And he couldn’t remember any of it.

He only knew them as his two sides of a fight. A fight that he had caused. A fight that forced Steve to split all his friends in half.

That’s what Bucky remembered.

Then Wakanda came after, the only peace he’d known recently.

He couldn’t put a time on how long he’d been in the African country. He also couldn’t remember leaving.

“We were on a mission. You took a blast to the chest,” Steve had to take a moment before he continued. “I’ve never seen someone a hit like that. I was convinced you broke your neck and you’d be dead when I got to you.”

Bucky could hear it in his best friend’s voice: Steve had been terrified.

“I’m fine, punk.” He tried to assure him.

“But you’re not fine. You can’t remember the last 5 years of your life.

“Well, from what you’re all telling me, I wasn’t a brainwashed assassin killing people for Hydra. So, things could be worse.” Bucky smirked.

But Steve was only glaring at him in return. “That’s not funny.”

“Really? I thought it was pretty funny.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Steve thought aloud. “You’ve got your memories back before. You can do it again.”

Bucky was a little taken aback by Steve’s insistence. He hadn’t acted this way last time a similar situation occurred.

Then Bucky realized...last time there were more memories that he hadn’t wanted to remember than there were good ones.

With the way Steve was acting, it was like there things Bucky would regret not remembering.

————————————

Bucky and Sam were sparring.

He’d been spending more time with the man, starting to believe like he was the only person that didn’t make him feel bad for not remembering their friendship.

Bucky started to figure out that the two of them must’ve grown really close over the years. It’s like he could sense it.

The doors of the training room opened.

They’d had the place to themselves, deciding to train at an odd hour.

In walked a young woman.

She was taller than most women. Hell, she was taller than most men. But her shoulder’s were pulled back and she almost glided in with the confidence of an Amazon warrior. Her hair was pulled back, and she was only wearing a black sports bra with her black leggings. Clearly she was there to train too.

Bucky stopped his movements and did a double take at her entrance.

When he looked back at Sam, his gaze was flickering back and forth between Bucky and the girl. But Bucky couldn’t read his face.

“Who’s that?” Bucky asked.

Sam’s jaw clenched. “That’s Y/N. She’s an agent. One of Fury’s.”

Then she noticed the two men and she stopped her entrance.

It was like her and Sam were having a silent conversation. But, without a single word, she quickly turned around and left the training room.

A wave of a guilt washed over him.

Was she scared of him? After 5 years, was he still only the Winter Soldier to the world? Maybe he should’ve stayed in Wakanda. Why had he left in the first place?

“I should actually…” Sam didn’t even finish his sentence before he quickly rushed after the woman.

Bucky didn’t question him or follow. But he did keep thinking about Y/N, wondering why it had been so hard to take his eyes off of her.

——————————-

“She doesn’t talk much,” Bucky muttered quietly to Steve.

He’d ask Bucky to watch the new trainees. “If you can train with a bunch of Winter Soldiers, maybe you can help some of the youngsters out,” Steve had teased him.

But Bucky had only promised to watch from a distance. He didn’t think he was in any place to teach anybody anything.

“Who?” Steve asked without taking his eyes off the recruits.

“The tall, beautiful one,” Bucky nodded subtly in her direction. No one was close enough to eavesdrop. “Y/N,” he added.

She was standing with a couple of the other instructors/agents. But she was the only one not giving any commands. Every so often, she’d show someone how to fix their form. But it was usually silently, only adjusting their body in the correct way.

Steve quickly looked at him. “You know her?”

“Sam told me her name. A few weeks ago, she walked out of the training room as soon as she saw me there. I’m guessing she doesn’t like me very much.”

He was waiting for Steve to shed light on the situation, even just confirm or deny Bucky’s suspicion. But Steve stayed quiet.

After a few minutes, Steve cleared his throat. “She doesn’t talk much because of her ability.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “What’s her ability?”

Steve seemed to be having an internal battle on how much or little to tell Bucky. “Psychic seduction through pheromones.”

“Excuse me?”

Steve sighed. “Mind control, Bucky. She can control people with a simple verbal suggestion. She tells people to do something and they have no choice but to do it.”

Mind control. It should’ve scared Bucky more. She embodied the exact thing that had ruined his life and made the world hate him. Everything he still feared, she was capable to executing at any given moment.

But when he looked at her, he didn’t feel any fear.

“Doesn’t look like people are too scared of her…” Bucky observed.

“That’s because most people don’t know. And if they do, they’ve never actually seen her use it.”

Now Bucky was curious. “And have you? Ever seen it, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Steve answered darkly. “Then I saw why she doesn’t want people to know.”

As if she could feel people looking at her and talking about her, Y/N looked over at them. Her gaze locked with Steve’s for a moment before she quickly turned her back on them. “You two friends?” Bucky asked.

“We were,” Steve answered. His tone was sad, but Bucky could tell he was trying to hide it. “She prefers to keep to herself. That’s just how she’s chosen to do deal with it.”

————————————————

A couple months went by and not a single memory from the past five years had come back to Bucky.

It seemed like his friendships with the team had rebounded faster than he ever expected them to.

“Just because you’ve forgotten them, doesn’t mean they’re going to stop caring about you,” Steve had told Bucky when he seemed confused by it all.

Even with the memories missing, Bucky felt like there was something bigger missing from his life.

He couldn’t fathom what it could possibly be. His life was better than he could’ve ever imagined.

The Avengers had opened their home to him, welcomed him to their dysfunctional family. Some of the public even considered him a hero.

So why did Bucky still feel like he was missing something? Or was it someone?

Even with all the time that had passed since his recovery in Wakanda, Bucky still couldn’t sleep most nights.

He’d remembered Nat saying something about a pool the other day.

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he went swimming. So, when he was faced with another sleepless night, he figured he wouldn’t bother spending it tossing and turning.

When he got to the giant indoor pool, the only lights on were those coming from under the water. It made the whole place glow blue.

Except it looked like someone had a similar idea to Bucky.

They were doing laps back and forth.

Despite how fast they were moving, he could at least tell it was a woman in the water.

They stopped at the end Bucky was standing near and gripped the edge to take a moment to rest.

Bucky’s heart sped when he realized it was Y/N.

After all this time, they still hadn’t had a single conversation. But he found himself always looking for her. When he entered a crowed room, she was the first face he searched for. When anyone mentioned her in conversation, he would eavesdrop and try to learn as much about her as he could.

It seemed all the Avengers had been close with her – or still were, like Nat and Sam. But whenever Bucky tried to subtly ask either of them about her, they would always try to change the subject.

Sensing someone was watching her, Y/N looked up from the water.

For once, she didn’t glare at him. She just seemed surprised to see him.

“I’ll go,” Bucky quickly told her. “You were here first.”

But she was already pulling herself out of the water.

The motion made all of her muscles flex and show off her strength, making Bucky stare longer and more intensely at her body than he should’ve.

Bucky should’ve been used to women’s bathing suits in this time period.

Y/N was wearing a one piece, but it was cut so high in the hips and so low in the front that it left little to the imagination.

Bucky didn’t think her legs could be any longer, but the bathing suit was showing him how wrong he was.

Her height was something Bucky still hadn’t gotten over. He saw how it made the majority of men around her cower or desexualize her. Some of them overlooked her for the petite and overtly feminine women. They seemed to hate how she made them look and feel less manly.

Bucky thought those men were idiots.

Y/N didn’t say anything as she walked past him to grab a towel.

“Do you hate me?” Bucky’s mouth betrayed him.

She froze.

“I know there are people who still…I can’t remember everything still.” Then he paused and took a breath. “I’m just trying to figure out if I did something to you…when I was him – no, when I was it.” He rubbed one of his temples. “Did I hurt someone you cared about?”

She watched him struggle for a moment.

But then she gave a stiff shake of her head.

Bucky exhaled with relief. But he knew he wasn’t in the clear. There was still some sort of tension between them.

“You really are shy, huh?” He tried to be playful.

But this just made her scowl at him.

Bucky decided he never wanted to be on the receiving end of that look again.

“I’m not shy,” her voice was loud and clear. And there was nothing shy about it.

“Quiet then,” Bucky offered, still trying to tease her.

“I talk when I need to,” she replied curtly.

He could tell she wanted to leave this conversation. Hell, she tried to run out as soon as she saw him.

But she was giving him a chance to say one last thing. She lingered long enough for it.

Except Bucky was suddenly rendered speechless.

If the Winter Soldier hadn’t effected her life in some way, why did he get the sense that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him?

Yes, Steve was right when he said she liked to keep to herself. But Bucky had seen her talking to Nat and Sam. He’d seen her laugh. It had made him smile without even being able to hear it because he was so far away. So why couldn’t he be a part of that?

Y/N decided his time was up. “Goodnight, James.”

She passed him without another glance.

“James…” he repeated in a whisper after she’d gone.

No one called him that here. Not even Steve. It was either Bucky or Sergeant Barnes, which he hated. He didn’t feel worthy of that title anymore, he hadn’t for awhile.

———————————————————

“Barton’s with me,” Tony started calling out teams. “And Barnes is with Y/L/N.”

Steve immediately interrupted and gave a warning look, “Stark!”

“I don’t need a buddy,” Y/N stated evenly.

But Bucky didn’t miss the look her and Steve shared.

“Well, we’re doing the buddy system. You two used to work together swimmingly.” He smirked as Y/N gave him a death glare. “Plus, I pay for everything, so you have to listen to me.”

Bucky could tell that it was taking every single ounce of power for Y/N not to tackle Stark. Even Steve looked like he was ready to play defense.

Before that could happen, Steve dragged Tony to the other side of the jet. Far enough away and too quiet for Bucky to make out any words, but he could tell Steve was pissed.

“I promise I won’t get in your way,” Bucky told Y/N gently when no one else was paying attention to them.

She ignored him.

Bucky took the lead as they weaved in and out of the dark hallways.

There was a shut door at the end. They could both hear at least a dozen men talking amongst themselves on the other side. It was the control room, therefore everyone in there was also carrying at least 3 firearms and a couple of grenades.

Bucky gave her a look that asked if she was ready.

She didn’t look at all stressed or like she was going through the same adrenaline rush that Bucky always did on missions.

But she nodded her head.

Bucky kicked open the door.

Y/N stepped past him so he could only look at her back.

“Everybody freeze,” Y/N yelled.

To Bucky’s shock, not a single muscle so much as twitched.

“All of you, put your weapons on the center of the table,” she talked quietly and calmly, now that she had their attention.

They all had utter fear in their eyes and their bodies responded to the command without their consent.

Bucky slowly lowered his gun as he watched it all.

Y/N eyed him.

Her posture changed suddenly. “You,” she pointed to one of the men. “Stand up.”

He obeyed.

“Pick up that gun,” she pointed to one of the twenty something guns on the table. He obeyed. “Load the chamber,” the gun clicked. “Put the gun in your mouth,” his hand shook as he had no choice but to do as she said. Bucky was breathing heavily.

“I changed my mind. Point it at his head,” she nodded toward a man on the other side of the table.

He obeyed.

Her voice was quick and emotionless.

Both the man with the gun and the man he was aiming at were shaking, eyes filled with tears. All free will had been sucked from them.

Y/N then turned toward Bucky.

She gave him an expression that dared him to tell her to stop.

He stayed silent.

“Put the gun down,” she finally relieved her victim. “All of you, stay in here until exactly 11:09 tomorrow morning. If anyone tries to leave…shoot them.”

Bucky followed her out.

“Control room has been infiltrated. They’ll be waiting and ready to comply when SHILED comes to apprehend them,” Y/N spoke into her comms.

“Nicely done, kid,” Tony was the only one to acknowledge her.

Y/N gave Bucky a look. “Still want to be friends with me?” She challenged.

Bucky knew what she was trying to do. He knew that she was trying to scare him, to push him away. She was telling him to drop all and any efforts of trying to get to know her.

It wasn’t until they were on the jet home that he sat down next to her, looking straight ahead, and said, “You don’t scare me.”

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

Part 2

I know I shouldn’t be writing one-shots when I have a series to finish. But I was bored and then I got inspired and I couldn’t help myself. Let me know what you think.

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hale-13 · 3 years ago

Text

Febrile

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 23 - Sick

“Don’t,” Peter grouses, spitting out the last bit of bile in his mouth in the sink in the men’s restroom at Midtown and pointedly ignoring the look of disapproval both Ned and MJ are giving him in the mirror as he rinses his mouth out and washes his hands.

Words: 2101, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, May Parker, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter,” Ned’s voice is exasperated and he looks irritated. MJ’s face is still (mostly) an indifferent mask but he can see her eyes brows pulling in the way they do when she’s concerned. “This has been going on for three days now,” he complains. “you have got to tell May.”

“Sure don’t,” Peter says, drying his hands off on a scratchy paper towel and trying to surreptitiously blot at his sweaty face before tossing it in the trash.

“You’re an idiot,” MJ tells him with an eye roll and a soft shove of her shoulder. It completely throws off Peter’s limited equilibrium and makes him sway into the wall. Ned’s glare becomes even sharper.

“I’m fine,” Peter tries and even he can hear the lie in his words now. He totally isn’t fine. He’s not fine at all actually. He’s had a fever, vomiting and stomach cramps for going on three days now and he’s just not used to getting and staying sick this long since he got bitten by the spider. A cold or a twenty-four hour hell flu? Sure. Consistent nausea and a low to mid grade fever for seventy-two hours? Unheard of.

“This is pointless,” MJ’s voice is monotone as she tosses Peter his phone which he fumbles, just barely catching it with the tips of sticky fingers.

“When did you take my phone?” He asks confused.

MJ guides him out the door and towards the front office – the exact opposite direction he needs to be going if he’s going to make it to his chemistry class. “I took it from your pocket when you were re-enacting the exorcism. Happy should be here in like ten minutes.”

“MJ,” Peter whines, not putting up a fight when Ned grabs his other arm to help with the pulling and directing. “I don’t need to go home.”

“Yes you do,” Ned’s tone is firm. “No one wants your flu Peter.”

“Alright that’s… fair,” he admits. “But my homework-,”

“We’ll get it for you,” MJ reassures as the office comes into view. She pushes him into one of the chairs sat outside and marches in to speak to the secretary. Peter pouts and crosses his arms. Yeah he feels like shit and he really just wants to sleep and, sure, his lower abdomen is really cramping and hurting but he got shot two weeks ago and the pain isn’t that bad. He can totally handle it. “You’re signed out,” Michelle tells him when she comes back, offering Ned a note to excuse his tardiness. “Let us know that you didn’t die okay loser?”

“Bye Peter!” Ned says brightly, back to his normal self now that he knows Peter is actually going home.

His friends finally gone, Peter drops all pretense and lets his face rest against the cool wall next to him, letting his eyes slip shut in relief – his forehead was burning. He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands and shivers. Maybe it is good that he goes home. He can take a nap and recuperate and be back at school tomorrow completely better.

Yeah. He just needs to nap.

“Well your scary girlfriend wasn’t kidding,” Mr. Stark’s voice rips Peter out of his near-sleep and has him blotting out of the chair, nearly falling over if he hadn’t caught himself on the way. “You look like shit kiddo.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter squeaks, surprised at seeing his mentor at his freaking school what the hell. “What uh… what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Tony asks with good humor, looking at Peter over the top of his AR glasses with a concerned smile, eyes scraping over him in a clinical way. “I’m here to get you.”

“Uh no offense, but why?” Peter asks, tripping over his book bag on the floor and falling back into the chair. Tony raises an eyebrow.

“Because I’m one of your emergency contacts,” he answers like this is the most obvious thing ever and Peter blinks a little in confusion. Mr. Stark is one of his emergency contacts? Since when? He opens his mouth to ask this very question when a sudden bout of nausea rolls over him and he, instead, scrambles to his feet and down the hall to the nearest bathroom.

He barely makes it to the sink before he starts gagging and dry heaving, nothing coming up but leaving him feeling dizzy and light-headed. Peter leans his head against the porcelain of the sink with a low moan, gagging again on the end and leaning his face back over the sink to drool out the excess saliva in his mouth.

“Yikes,” he hears Mr. Stark mutter behind him and then a calloused hand is running carefully through his hair and resting on his forehead. Peter pushes his face into the cool palm subconsciously and keeps his eyes closed as he tries to push the nausea down. “Yeah you’re definitely coming back to the MedBay with me.”

Peter lets out a wordless whine but doesn’t protest beyond that. It has been three days of this after all – maybe it is a good idea to consult with a professional?

“Come on buddy,” Tony says as he slings Peter’s arm over his shoulder and starts dragging him out of the bathroom and towards the entrance to the school. “You have a date with Dr. Cho and your aunt is waiting to hear the results of her exam.”

Happy actually looks concerned when Peter sees him standing outside of one of the many town cars Mr. Stark owns and he doesn’t say anything when he takes Peter’s bag from Tony to put in the front seat. The leather of the back seats is cool and the interior is darkened by the tinted windows and Peter lets out a sigh of relief, resting his head against the window; already half asleep.

The drive is, thankfully, quick and Peter dozes through most of it – still nauseous but able to hold it down for the most part. Soon enough they pull into the underground garage of the Tower and Tony is hustling him into the elevator which rockets them up to the MedBay floor without either of them having to say anything.

“May wants you to call her once you get settles,” Tony says, rapidly texting on his phone.

Peter squints his eyes at his mentor. “I’m not sure how I feel about you two texting,” he says.

“Oh we’re besties,” Tony teases, pocketing the phone with a shit eating grin. “We have coffee every other Wednesday.”

“I… don’t know if you’re serious,” Peter says, concerned. He probably doesn’t want to know to be honest. The doors of the elevator trundle open and Tony steers Peter into an empty exam room, directing him to sit on the exam bed. It only takes a second before Dr. Cho bustles in.

“Hey Peter,” she says with a smile as she rubs hand sanitizer into her hands and grabs a set of gloves from the box on the wall. “Tony said you were sick. Want to tell me about what’s going on?

“Nausea mostly,” he says as she runs a thermometer across his forehead and frowns at the readout. “My stomach hurts.”

“Well you have a fever of just over one hundred and two,” she says as she clips a pulse ox reader to his finger and wraps a blood pressure cuff around his arm and lets it run. “And your blood pressure is a little low,” she narrows her eyes at the reading and unhooks the machines. “Lay back for me?”

Peter does and stares at the ceiling as she starts to palpate his abdomen. He could probably fall asleep here actually if he – “OW!” He exclaims, curling away from Dr. Cho’s hands and wrapping his arms around his stomach to protect it.

“Well I have a tentative diagnosis,” she says snapping off her gloves. “We’ll do an ultrasound to confirm but, congratulations, Peter you have appendicitis.”

Peter and Tony both blink and then look at each other and then back. “For three days?” Tony questions, scooting Peter over to sit next to him on the bed and run a hand soothingly up and down Peter’s back. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain in his abdomen but it helps.

“His healing factor is probably slowing down the progression, preventing it from rupturing as quickly as it could or should have,” she says, typing something into Peter’s chart on her StarkPad. “I’ll have a tech confirm with ultrasound and get a surgeon out to do the surgery. It’s pretty quick – one hour tops and then a few days recovery and you’ll be good as new.”

“Surgery?” Peter asks hoarsely, feeling his heart rate speed up. He’s never had surgery before.

Dr. Cho looks up at him and her face softens a little. “It’s an easy procedure,” she promises. “You won’t even realize that you’ve had it really and. Once you wake up, you’ll feel immediately better. Everything will be fine,” she promises and Peter nods with a gulp. He can feel stomach acid rising in his throat again and lunges for the emesis basin sitting on the bedside table, gagging into it.

“Let it all out Webs,” Tony says, rubbing his back sympathetically. “Got anything to help with this doc?”

“I’ll have the nurses start and IV and give him an anti-emetic,” she said, passing a new basin to Tony and taking the one from Peter’s slack grasp. “Just try to relax okay Peter?”

“This sucks,” he grumbles, letting his head fall over to rest on his mentor’s shoulder and relaxing when he feels Tony’s finger scrub though his hair to massage his aching head.

“Sure does kiddo,” Tony agrees, pulling the blanket up to Peter’s chest. “But at least its an easy fix.”

“I don’t want surgery,” Peter tells him quietly. Even with all of his many Spider-Man injuries he’s never had to be put under for anything. “Is May on her way?”

“Happy went to get her,” Tony promises him. “And surgery seems really scary but its not I promise. It’s like taking a really good nap and May and I will both be there alright? It’ll be fine Underoos.”

“Okay,” Peter says quietly, feeling slightly better but still a little concerned. But he would have May and Tony with him. It would be fine.

————————————————

“Guess we still need to tweak the anesthetic formula for you just a bit,” Mr. Stark says apologetically as he mops up the sweat on Peter’s brow with a damp cloth and supports him as he retches again. The surgery had gone well and had been quick. Waking up however?

Not so much.

“Just let it out baby,” May croons as she rubs his back, sweaty and making the thin hospital gown stick to his skin uncomfortably. Peter just gasps a little and squeezes his eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths through his nose to quell his nausea.

“I’m good,” Peter croaks a minute later, letting his aunt settle him back into the bed and fuss over him. He had barely woken up after the surgery before the vomiting started again. It had alarmed Tony but May and Dr. Cho had both determined that it was just a poor reaction to the anesthesia they used. With how fast him metabolism was, it should move through his system quickly.

“Can I get you anything sweetie?” May asked him, brushing his damp hair out of his face and sitting on the edge of the bed facing him.

“I’m okay,” Peter said, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. Tony squeezed his hand and tucked his blanket in a little tighter around him warming Peter up from the inside a little. He was so glad and thankful that he had the chance to get closer with Tony over the last couple months since the incident with the Vulture. The man was still a little awkward and learning how to be a mentor but he was trying and that’s all Peter could ask for. “Just want to sleep,” he said softly, letting his eyes slip closed.

“Okay baby,” he heard May whisper, running her fingers through his hair and Peter felt the ghost of a smile on his face. Yeah, he could probably handle this recovery.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump23 #Prompt: Sick #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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