#still when i explained this au a while ago the one who liked spidey said it seemed pretty in character

[labyrinthofcrystals]

friends decided we were gonna be doing powerpoints during our con weekend so im making one for tlim and.

hm yeah. i think i should be put down

[complcatedfreak]

we’re soulmates.

in which y/n and peter's class go to MOMA and they discover a big secret.

part one part two

A/N: this is a soulmate au series, which will contain both endgame and infinity war spoilers. however, this part is when they begin. Parts after this will ignore the canon.

Mj: ice cream date tonight??

Ned: I’ll ask but I don’t think it’ll be a problem

Peter: what time? it depends bc of the stark internship

Y/N: i can go :)

 Peter’s smile faltered a bit when Y/N said she could go. Something inside of Peter just wanted to be around her. For the first time since he’d discovered his powers, he considered taking a day off. It was only for a brief moment before he remembered the entire city of New York is probably more important than getting ice cream with a girl he met two days ago. Just probably. Plus, he still got to see her in school and would be able to text all weekend without it being weird, you know, because of the whole groupchat thing. Peter had come to really enjoy texting Y/N. She was funny and always had an appropriate meme for whatever they were discussing. She fit right in with himself, Ned and Mj. It was nice to have her around.

Y/N was happy when Mj sent the ice cream date text to the entire groupchat, rather than the individual message Y/N had woken up to. It was originally supposed to be a ‘get to know you’ hangout session so that the girls of the group could bond, but both ladies quickly agreed it would be more fun if everyone was there. It’d be a nice way for all four of them to relax into a dynamic that worked outside of school. Plus, it would allow for Y/N to get comfortable enough for her to ask to join their group for the class field trip to MOMA that was coming up in a next week. It had only been about a week since she met them, but there was something interesting about each one of them, and it only made Y/N want to continue being around them.

The school day was about as easy as it gets for Peter. It being a Friday meant the teachers wanted to relax just as much as the students did. Maybe even more, considering it was a long weekend. Most of his day was spent trying to catch up on the novel they were reading in English and trying to keep up with the mass flood of text messages from the groupchat. Peter kept thinking about how well Y/N seemed to easily filter into their little nerd group. He was happy to have her there, but something seemed off. A pretty girl like her who’s also funny would never usually pick the three least cool kids in school to hang out with, but here she was. He was grateful she chose them. “What’cha thinking about?” Mj cheerfully interrupted his thought process, while also pulling his eyes away from the pages of the book he was supposed to be reading. “I don’t know how to explain it,” Peter answered, shocking himself. He has never been this open with Mj. “Well, Parker, I’ll listen to whatever first-world problem you have going on for a little bit,” Mj said with a fake smile plastered on her face. Honestly, Peter wanted to tell someone about it, even if it was Mj’s ridiculously sarcastic self. “Mj,” Peter started, wondering how to approach this subject, “my initials match someone’s name, they even had a line through them.” Mj’s face lit up, “PETER WHAT?” She exclaimed, drawing the eyes of everyone in his last period class. “Shut up!” Peter shushed, “It’s not a definite thing, I don’t know her middle name, but the first and last names work out and I’m scared because I kinda like her already, but I’m scared.” Peter was talking way too fast, but it seemed as though Mj understood. “Is it Y/N?” she whispered. Peter’s face immediately went red, “n-no,” Mj smirked as the bell rang, “Whatever, Parker.” “This is the last time I’m telling you anything!” Peter called as she disappeared out of the classroom door.

MJ: y/n you’re joining our MOMA group right

Y/N: is that okay? i don’t wanna intrude

MJ: i mean ur name is already on the sign-up list with is

MJ: *us

Ned: I did that :)

MJ: oh okay im excited for you to join

Why wasn’t Peter answering? After waiting for two hours after MJ’s last text, Y/N began to get insecure about joining the group because she didn’t have his approval. What if he didn’t want her around? What if he didn’t like her? Suddenly feeling very small, Y/n tossed her phone to the other side of her bed, deciding to catch up on her reading for English. She had been lost for the rest of the last unit with the whole transferring schools thing, so she didn’t want to fall behind this time. A few hours passed and she hopped between reading her novel and digging through food in the fridge. She knew she was eating out of nerves and boredom, but hey, what’s a few calories when your potential soulmate may hate you?

Peter quietly closed his bedroom window and quickly pulled off his mask. He didn’t necessarily have to be secretive anymore but walking through the front door in his spidey suit wasn’t something he wanted to risk. Stripping out of the rest of the suit, he made his way to the bathroom. He pulled out his phone to connect to the speaker in the bathroom and noticed the missed texts from the “peter “i drop chemicals because i cant do math” parker” groupchat. Y/N’s joining their MOMA group. Y/N’s joining their MOMA group! Y/N’S JOINING THEIR MOMA GROUP! He fist bumped the air, instantly feeling ten times more excited for the field trip next week. Maybe this would be his chance to find out if her middle name started with the second letter on his wrist. Peter hopes it does. Truthfully, Peter really hopes Y/N is his soulmate. He really likes her.

The weekend flew by for Y/N. Peter finally answered in the groupchat and was equally as excited that she was joining as everyone else. Besides that, it was full of homework and studying. The group did meet up for ice cream on Monday, since they were off, but Peter had to leave early, due to an internship he had with Tony Stark. Y/N liked that he was dedicated to things, as well as the fact that he was intelligent enough to be working for THE Tony Stark. Y/N has decided she really, really likes him. He’s funny, cute and smart? How could she not? He’s also really kind, which Y/N learned while they were out getting ice cream and she dropped hers. Peter instantly offered her his, as well as offered to pay for a new for her. Y/N was too shy to ever let either of those things happen, so she bought herself a new one, but even just the small gesture had her heart fluttering. So, once they got back in school on Tuesday, Y/N felt very comfortable with Peter. They hung out during homeroom, walked to classes together, and hung out at lunch. Y/N thinks Peter even tried to hold her hand because she felt his hand brush hers when they were standing together in the lunch line. She wasn’t sure, though.

To say Peter was distracted when he went out as Spider-Man after school would be an understatement. Of course, he still did his job and did it right, he just did it while recalling every moment he spent with Y/N. He knew it was becoming redundant, but he couldn’t help but to give Happy the run-down about his new updates with his potential soulmate. Happy was annoyed, but Peter thought he detected a small hint of fondness behind his tone. When he got home, Peter had the best sleep of his life. The next morning, he got up, got dressed and ran to Del-Mar’s to make sure he had something to eat on the trip. Then, he made his way to the school to check-in and find his group.

“PARKERRRR,” Ned yelled down the hallway, making both Y/N and Mj jump. Mj turned towards Peter, waved and then flipped him off. Y/N laughed, shooting him a little wave with a smile. “Aren’t you two gonna get hot?” Mj asked, gesturing to Peter’s jacket and the flannel Y/N had thrown over her shirt. “No!” Peter said very defensively. “It makes my outfit cuter,” Y/N pouted. Ned laughed, rolling his eyes at his friends.

Soon, they were all sat in their seats on the bus. Y/N and Mj were across the aisle from Peter and Ned, due to the ‘boys can’t sit with girls’ the bus-driver had instilled. Y/N happily shared her headphones with Mj, showing her new songs as her head rested against the bus window. It was a very short, comfortable bus ride and before they knew it, they were inside of New York’s Museum of Modern Art. Each group broke off, allowing the teenagers to see what they wanted to. Mj and Ned were very adamant about Elle Pérez’s Diablo exhibit, so the group headed there first. Due to their enthusiasm, Ned and Mj strayed ahead of Y/N and Peter, giving them a chance to chat. It was mindless chatter; pointing out pieces they liked along the way, pointing at some creature in the works and saying “it’s you” to each other, things like that. Nothing important.

Until they got to their final exhibit. Peter mindlessly rolled up his sleeve. Mj was right, he was getting hot, and he was too comfortable to remember he was supposed to be hiding his wrist. It was fine for about five minutes, before Y/N let out a gasp. Mj, Ned and Peter turned around to face her. Peter cocked his head, “Are you okay?” Y/N answered quickly: “Can I talk to you?”. Before Peter could even answer she was grabbing the wrist that had her initials across them and dragging him away from their friends, leaving Ned and Mj with confused stares.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked once Y/N freed him from her grip. “Peter,” Y/N’s eyes were wide, as if she was putting on a puppy-face, “my initials are on your wrist. I think yours are on mine.” She tugged the sleeve of her flannel up, showing Peter the crossed-off “PBP” that went across it. Peter broke out into a huge smile, reaching up to run his fingers across the letters. He stared at her wrist for a second before looking her in her eyes, “We’re soulmates.” Y/N nodded at his statement, pulling him in for a hug.

It was time for the ride home. Peter let go of Y/N’s hand for the first time since they had their revelation when it was time to get on the bus. They texted through most of the ride, until Y/N’s phone died. Peter sat and played games on his for a while.

Peter felt the hairs on his arm stand up (the one with Y/N’s initials on it), and immediately looked away from his phone. His eyes landed on the spiral ship behind the bus. He was immediately grateful that he brought his suit, scanning over the bus full of his classmates. His eyes lingered on his soulmate, who met his gaze. She flashed him a smile of reassurance before turning to look back out of the window. Peter tapped Ned, “I need you to cause a distraction.” Ned was panicked before his eyes landed on the ship, “oh shit. WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!” Everyone on the bus began to panic, causing the chaos Peter needed to escape. He waited until Y/N had moved from the seat across the aisle to join the crowd in the back of the bus to web out of it, prepared to help the city, and the avengers, with whatever it needed.

[giurochedadomani]

Three days on a drunken sin

Anthony Crowley went to a party. He doesn’t remember much of it, but waking up in a hospital bed to Ezra’s pitiful eyes is etched on his mind. After a long summer of avoidance, he saves the day and Ezra’s new job at the old Tadfield library.

TAGS: Pre-Slash, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Human!AU: University, TW: drug use, TW: overdose, TW: suicide attempt, TW: characters having an homophobic family

The blue from the police lights reflects over the Central Tadfield Library sign, old and a tad cracked, making it look as if it were about to fall down on the rests of the storefront. A couple of agents dock down on their way out, as do the handcuffed wannabe robbers they’re pushing.

Crowley kneels, picks up the book, sees again the title —bloody Hamlet— and snorts. He offers it to Ezra. 

Their hands touch when the other grabs it. Crowley’s just a tad too glad that he doesn’t drop it. 

“That was awfully nice of you”.  

Crowley feels a bit hot around the collar and suspects it might not have everything to do with the pulsing pain of the bruise on his left cheek. He deflects by glaring for good measure at the big, burly detective taking Mrs. Tracy’s statement, but he seems so enthralled as to pay them any attention.  

“Very. Very cool”. 

“Oh, shut it”, he murmures back. 

He gives Ezra a side glance. It’s aiming for a glare and falls miserably short. His stomach does a weird thing when he sees the other’s soft smile as he flips the pages of the book. He feels a little bit dumb and a whole lot ridiculous at how, ugh, mushy ‘very. Very cool’ makes him. He misses his glasses, broken in the scuffle Ezra and him had gone into with the robbers. 

Continue reading in AO3 or here. 

He wills his left knee to stop moving. He ends up getting up from the sofa just to stop the nervous taps on the floor. Ezra asks: “How did you know that I was working here?”

Anathema had told him. She had done so subtly at first and with increasingly elaborate threats then to coax him to make amends with Ezra through the whole summer.

(Crowley can’t remember anything but the blinding lights of the ambulance, a cacophony of shouts from his parents and Ezra’s pitiful eyes before waking up on the hospital bed.  

“Well, you really shouldn’t be here. I mean, given how many other people you have to fraternize with—”) 

“I didn’t. I happened to be in the neighbourhood”. It has happened a couple of times before. That is, Crowley going so far as to reach the neighbouring park before bolting on the whole idea. Showing up just as the gang decided to strike the library hasn’t been about pure chance, though. 

“My spidey senses just tingled”. 

“Ah”. Ezra’s soft smile fades down a bit. Crowley feels an inexplicable pang of guilt. “Well. I’m glad about your spider senses. I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t show up, my dear. I suppose that I got myself into a very tight spot”.  

Mrs. Tracy laughs. She then shoves a hand over her mouth, appalled. She looks apologetically at the detective, who very chivariously tells her that there’s nothing to apologize for. 

Crowley fixates on how much that makes him gag so he won’t pay attention at how his mind won’t stop echoing ‘my dear’. 

“It’s spidey, not spider. You know it’s spidey”, he chides him. It doesn’t have any real bite to it, though. He glances again at Ezra and spots that little self satisfied smile that he sports after being annoying on purpose. His heart clenches suddenly at the immensity of the feeling of how much he has missed it. 

“Does pretending to be from two centuries ago still help you around here?”, he asks, as nonchalant as he can manage. He rests his back on the counter.  

“I’ll have you know that Mrs. Tracy appreciates my tastes, as démodé as you may find them”. Ezra replies, petulantly. He purses his lips and adds: “And modernizing doesn’t necessary have to equal obscure comic book knowledge, you know?” 

Crowley scoffs. Thinks I’ll give you obscure. 

Ezra ignores him: “I’ve been keeping myself up to date as of late, if you must know. I—”, he hesitates. Crowley takes on his set shoulders, that proud grin. He thinks about how utterly adorable he looks as he doubles down on his resolve and— 

A phone rings. An 8 bit version of something classical. That’s— Beethoven? 

Crowley fishes the thing out of the floor, vibrating half hidden among books. It looks like an old Blackberry or something equally egregious. He flips it in his hand, spots the cracked screen and… he sees the screen saver, a bad selfie of Ezra kissing some guy’s cheek. 

(“Someone like me? How exactly is someone like me? No, describe it. Do you honestly think that I deserve to get treated—”. 

“I worry about you”. 

“And now you sound like them. I only asked— At the very least have the guts to tell me that you think that this is a punishment—”. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth that I haven’t said”.

“That’s the problem! You never say anything. So long for that being on your side shit when you won’t stand up when I need someone to do it”)

Crowley doesn’t even move when Ezra, beet red, grabs the phone out of his hand and answers. 

“Hi, I— Yes. Yes. Both of us. I was about to call you to tell you about it, in fact”, he nods to nothing. “Well, Police has been interrogating us up until now. How have you heard about it, anyway? In the—?”, a whisper of something and then: “The what!? Yes, yes, I swear to— Look, given the circumstances it’s something that I’m able to promise, yes”. 

Crowley just— stays there. With the image of the screen saver seared into his mind. The guy’s tall, dark haired, good looking, all draped in finery. Ezra’s honest to Someone giggling. Crowley feels as if someone has just dropped a bucket of cold water over his shoulders. As if someone has just punched all air out of his lungs. 

“I— yes, the moment I get home”, continues Ezra. He lowers his voice: “Yes, me too”. 

He ends the call. 

One of the agents asks something to Mrs. Tracy and then helps her to close the storefront, hiding the broken glass under the metal sheet. After the creaks stop, Ezra tries a joke, pinpointing the phone: “I figured at some point of another I would have to let go of telegrams”. 

The guy is probably refined and shit. He can picture him, a veritable dandy, dressed like a sir and philosophizing about morality while analyzing literary classics. Most likely, his vices limit themselves to cigarettes and the occasional brandy glass at parties.  Surely, his police records are stainless. 

He’s truly glad for Ezra. 

Brimming with joy. 

He pinpoints the old mobile: “You’ve nailed down the century, angel. Now all that is left to nail down is the decade”. He puts so much effort into not sounding as hollow as he feels, that he expends a few seconds without realizing exactly what has he called the other and only does so when Ezra looks away. 

Crowley’s stomach sinks to the floor and then lower, a truly stupid, over sensitive move on his part—  

“He’s a— well, a friend”. 

(“You haven’t been able to admit that we’re friends. Not once”

Ezra looks away. He ducks his head. His voice wavers when he says—)

Crowley buries the memory quickly and mercilessly. He was a manipulative asshole that day. Ezra’s not the one to blame for Crowley’s devotion, nor his very private daydreams —so obviously out of touch with reality, given what he is, what tears them apart— about what a friendship might develop into.   

“You don’t owe me any explanation”. 

He tries to swallow the bile down his throat.  

“Crowley, I—”. 

The point is— he didn’t even know that Ezra might, in this world and life, be interested. That there was any potential to explore. That Ezra, well, is interested in guys. A part of him cannot stop ruminating about how it’s his fault. That he’s somehow lacking— he’s always lacking. That he was, well, truly pathetic to even secretly entertain the possibility.  

He stands up and recollocates his jeans, trying not to wince when his bruised hands grab the rough fabric. “I’m going home”.   

Ezra’s face falls. He looks away, frowning a little, pouting, his lower lip trembling slightly. Crowley’s convinced that if Ezra were looking up, his eyes would beautifully shine with unshed tears. He feels as if he has just committed genocide, or kicked an overgrown, blonde puppy with eyes as blue as the sky. He gives in, refrains the urge to sigh and asks: “Do you want a lift?” 

Ezra does a double take. Then, he smiles. And it’s like grabbing a soft blanket and getting near the fireplace on a rainy day and corny shit like that. 

Crowley feels a frustration almost as deep as the warmth in his chest. 

Soon they find themselves in Crowley’s car, with him following Ezra’s directions across town and being just a tad too glad that he doesn’t have to explain why does he know where they are going. 

Wait, no. Come back! He just means— Anathema’s new flame lives next door, okay? He’s not a creep.

“So you basically stole a bunch of books”. 

“I didn’t steal anything. I acquired them. With hard work”. 

“You’ve just told me that you went into a— well, a sort of manhunt of prophecy books, coercing their previous owners into giving them to you almost for free”. 

“Coerce, now that’s a strong word. Suggest, if anything. Let it slide— Could you please go slower, my dear!”.

“Manipulated, more likely. Deceived”. 

Ezra shots him a glare, baffled.

“It’s hardly my fault if they didn’t do the proper research before our negotiations!”

“I don’t know if that would stand in a courtroom”. 

“Well, if you’re just going to ponder the legal ramifications of my job I might just ask you to drop me here and go the rest of the way back on foot”. 

“Now, there’s no need for rush decisions”. 

“Well, you’re the one rushing!”

Crowley smirks, takes a turn left a little to quickly to make it perfectly legal and tries hard not to laugh at how Ezra squirms. “I’m just— admiring the skill where it’s due”, he says, after a moment of silence. “It must have been very difficult to get the opportunity to negotiate with those antique dealers. To prepare a convincing speech that fit every occasion”.  

“If that’s sarcasm, I swear, my dear—”

“Oh, gosh, no. I’ve seen you in action. I don’t doubt for a moment that you can be pretty persuasive”.

(“So, what am I supposed to tell them? ‘Oh, no, I’m sorry, but I won’t make it, you guys, I’ve plans of spending all night long curing the boredom of this blondie, you see’. Wait a minute, I’m so definitely texting them that”.  

“Crowley! You’re making me look like a wanton thing”. 

“Are you blond? Check. Did you convince me that spending the night here was way more interesting than putting up with Bee and their friends? Also check. Did you do so because you’re bored as hell? Ladies and gentlemen, we have a triple check! I fail to see how am I misrepresenting the truth here”. 

“You know that they won’t think that! If you send them that they will assume that— They will think that we—”

Crowley has the smartphone in a hand, a glass of wine in the other. That, next to Ezra’s white jumper, will prove itself to be an accident in the making in mere seconds. An accident that Ezra will have only to vaguely battle his eyelashes to to get Crowley try his hardest to solve. 

“Now, what will they exactly think?” 

“Give me the mobile, Crowley!”)

Crowley smile falters. He drops the banter: “Doing something quite as reckless as inviting potential robbers of those books into your bookshop, now, I wouldn’t have pinpointed you as someone who’d do that”. 

He sees out of the corner of his eye how Ezra ducks his head and looks out of the window. “I was supposed to get help”. 

Ah, yes. Crowley remembers the girl of the library, the one who has played Ezra’s partner in crime before snitching on him to the gang. The one Ezra hadn't imagined betraying him because he wouldn’t be capable of doing something like that to someone else, so why would her do it to him. He changes gears, keeps his eyes on the road and answers, as if in an afterthought: “Next time you plan on turning yourself and your books into bait, maybe— well, if you need a backup, a proper backup, just ask me”. 

He feels more than sees Ezra’s eyes snapping back at him, and that’s more than anything out of the flush that creeps over his neck. He feels his palms sweaty, his heart beating wildly. He preemptively puts up his shields, thinks a myriad of variants of ‘I only say it so you don’t make a fool out of yourself’ and is only halfway dissapointed when Ezra changes tracks to ask: “How did you find out about the strike?” 

Crowley opens his mouth, thinks about explaining how Lucius had told him in no uncertain terms to follow the gang if he wanted to keep the job. He thinks about what Ezra would tell him if he mentioned the Inferno gardening shop and its shady backroom deals altogether. He shuts his mouth. 

Ezra, who can read him back to back, doesn’t even need him to put it into words. He jumps to the worse conclusion, though: “Did he... order it?” 

Wait, what?

“No. He— I heard them talk about you, okay? He—”, Crowley sighs, “Okay, he told me to follow them. That’s when I heard them talking about this library, this old and weird ass librarian, and the blondie, fussy young man who helped her and, well. I pieced things together and then...” 

“And you decided to come to my rescue”.  

Crowley risks a quick look over. Ezra looks… kind of amused. He doesn’t know what to make out of it. His gut reaction is to tone down the statement: it’s not as if he suddenly has turned into some sort of knight in shining armour. Or that he deserves to be praised like one.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything, mainly because a hand chooses that exact momento to gently squeeze his arm, and that stops altogether his train of thought. 

“You can stop wherever you can. It’s over there”, Ezra explains, pinpointing the same large block of buildings in front of which he dropped Anathema a couple of weeks before. Crowley parks, not too far away. He hopes that Ezra will invite him over. Maybe make a big show of how irresponsible is to let a drive drive that late, perhaps chide at his reckless ignorance of road manners. Something that lets him a teeny, tiny opportunity not to have to say goodbye. 

“Well, thank you for—” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“Ezra”. 

“But I’m grateful for what you’ve done! It was... nice seeing you again”. 

It’s the wild, blind hope in his chest what makes him take a deep breath, braze himself for the impact and say: “You know, Hamlet. There’s ah— They’re doing Hamlet. The guys in— Shit, well, I mean”, he backpedals. Starts again, trying to say it so it makes sense. Subject, verb, complements. Come on, you can do it! “The new community theatre downtown? Some friends of mine are doing Hamlet there. They’re not— Oscar worthy, or anything, but they’re also not rubbish. And there’s a bar near, they make some pretty mean pizzas. Italian authentic recipe, all artsy. We could—”. 

“I can’t”. 

Crowley clasps his mouth shut. 

“Right”. 

He blinks a few times, keeps his eyes away, tries to will the sharp sting away. 

“Crowley, I’m not ashamed of you. I just— I can’t, okay?” 

Ezra squeezes his hand for a moment. 

Crowley won’t cry. 

“Okay, angel”, he manages. 

Ezra grabs his bag and gets out of the car. He doesn’t manage to move until he sees him disappear through the entrance hall. 

It doesn’t happen that night. Nor the morning after. He’s got to wait up until the afternoon shift at the Inferno for Bee to call him to the back room and hand him the shop’s phone. It’s humid in the backroom, it clings to his clothes. It almost chokes him when he hears a sweet, deep voice tell him: “You’ve got guts to show up, that I have to admit it. I’ve seen you worse for wear, though. Is that how you pay your shots now, scuffles?”

(“My brother is—”

“An idiot? A petty bastard who didn’t outgrow the bully phase?”) 

“I wouldn’t stick around if I were you, our parents don’t take to too gently to your kind. Neither do I, if we’re being honest. If you want to ruin your life, that’s your problem. But the last thing we need is you dragging Ezra down with you. Specially, after what he did to get you back to school”. 

Ba-dum-thud. His heart skips a beat. 

“I’m going to take your little chat from last night as an aberration to the rule, but needless to say, I don’t want you to go near him ever again. Or else, there will be consequences. And you know for experience that I do follow up my words”. A pause. “Do we have an arrangement?” 

Ire cloughs his throat. He’s got the phone in a death grip. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Have a nice day, Crawley”.

He hangs up. 

Crowley waits one tone, two tones, before his body reacts and he stomps the phone on the receiver wishing that it was not a phone, but a certain someone’s face. Bee refrains mid-sentence to tell him how he’s going to have to pay it if he breaks.  

He paces back to the front of the shop, feeling disgusted with himself, and only partially because after being at the back room he’s pooling in sweat. His mind is lost to the present, racing through images of him burning with rage at the hospital, screaming at Ezra to fuck off, to images of him burning with rage at the police station, being questioned, to images of him burning with rage at the director’s office, being told with a stern voice and pitiful eyes that even if Crowley will not be expelled for the incident, if he continued down this road, it’d probably cost him way more than his academic possibilities and he knows that . He knows there’s a missing piece in there, somewhere, though he cannot for the love of Someone pinpoint where is it. There’s the familiar weight of guilt in his stomach and a question which echoes through his brain.

What the fuck did he do?

[sam-i-am-27]

Bad Habits

Summary: Patton was always pushing himself to be a better hero So what happens when he pushes just a bit too far?

Word Count: 2912

Warning: Injuries, crying, hospitals

Based on the Spiderverse AU made by @ask-spiderverse-virgil and @sugarglider9603 .

He sat on the side of the building, looking out at the city. It was noisy as always but so beautiful. Lights of every color, music playing from every corner, and an energy humming in the air that you didn’t need spider-sense to feel.

He smiled softly under his mask, ignoring the amount of effort it did to do something he forced himself to do every day. He loved this job more than most of the things he used to like before that spider had bit him and changed his life.

He shifted a bit on the wall and almost lost the grip that his hands and feet were giving him, but no matter; he was about to get swinging anyways.

He took a deep breath and jumped.

Bad habits. Everyone had them and were so, so guilty of them that they basically become a part of daily routine if they weren’t properly managed.

Thomas knew that they hated when he babied them, but he couldn’t help it. He had been training, caring, and working with them for almost a year now. Because of their daily contact, the four boys had become his second family. If they got hurt, of course, he would be there almost instantly with a cold pack and a first-aid kit. Did that constantly destroy what little schedule he had outside of being a superhero? Yes. Did he regret it? Not once.

Roman would charge in headfirst without any hesitation. It showed when most of the first-aid equipment was used for his bruises and cuts. He knew that his actions were responsible for getting him so hurt, but he couldn’t deny himself the fire-hot adrenaline rush he got from lunging on the criminal before a proper plan had formed in his mind. It was intoxicating to the point where he was beginning to fear that one day, they might have time to get the drop on him if became too reckless.

Logan’s was honestly something that he tried to deal with every single time he reached a breaking point, but… he was going through too many punching bags at home. Supervillains lasted longer and he had a lot of emotions to get out that he couldn’t express verbally. It left them a little too beat up, but… they were bad guys, they deserved a good punching.

Virgil’s was more towards himself, and he knew that it was bad for him, but he just didn’t want to bother the others. If he was hurt, he’d tell himself that the other came first and that’d he’d make do. He’d try to hide it, but his knowledge of how bad it was for himself made him pretty bad at it and he always found himself being scolded for not telling them sooner while being patched up.

Now, they all knew that Patton pushed himself to be the best person and hero he could be. He trained harder than all of them, stayed later than even Thomas, who lived right above their training arena, and took more patrols than even Roman. It was concerning at times how little they actually saw him take a break, but they knew he felt like he was doing his best when he was doing what he loved.

But as the months went on, they would see him around the city, limping from a leg injury sustained nearly two months ago. Sometimes they’d be eating dinner and he’d start falling asleep then and there, his eyelids drooping to the point where his eyes were almost completely hidden. But as always, he shrugged it off and went on with his life.

They began to notice he would report in after these nights with bruises and sore muscles that would still be there by the next week's practice. It was concerning, to say the least, but if Patton wasn’t bothered by it, then they didn’t bring it up.

And then suddenly, it was too much for him to handle.

They didn’t hear the news right away or even sense that something was even slightly wrong. They were all in the middle of training that involved group work, so a ping on their senses wasn't able to be distinguished from the ones telling them to avoid punches.

“Good job today guys,” Thomas said., dropping from the ceiling and lending in front of them. “Logan, I noticed that you're reaction time is getting much quicker, but you still need to trust in your Spidey Sense. That's one of your most powerful weapons.”

Logan put a towel around his neck. “Okay. Thank you, Thomas.”

“Roman, you're doing great in every area, but you have to stop being so… Let's just say, punching someone isn't about the flair. It's about how effective it is and how quickly it'll end the fight.”

“I'll try Thomas, but you know me, I'm a sucker for that picture-perfect landing.” Roman poured some water on his face and grinned.

Thomas gave him a knowing smile and turned to the thinnest member of their group. “Virgil, you're utilizing all of your skills to the fullest. You're doing just as well in your defense, but remember, there’s also the offense. Can't beat someone if you're not making contact.”

“Sure, Thomas,” Virgil said, wiping his bangs out of his eyes.

Thomas clapped his hands. “Alright, go ahead and shower then get some dinner. Patton should be coming back in a couple hours, so if you want to stay, I still have Netflix”

Roman led the way upstairs, beating Virgil to the fridge by seconds and grabbing the largest size of the remaining pizza.

“Come on, dude. If anyone needs that, it's Logan. Organic webs and all,” Virgil said, hopping over his shoulders and taking out his spaghetti. Roman made a face at Virgili but handed the slice to Logan either way, who took it gratefully.

“So you guys managing to keep up with your homework?” Thomas said once they were all seated somewhere.

“I guess. We've been having a ton of trouble with our teachers since we're late, sleeping in class and really fidgety.” Logan scoffed. “If there is anything about this I would like to give up, it is that. It makes it very difficult to focus one-hundred percent on my work.”

“Well other than that, you're doing well?”

“We’re passing higher than any of the other students. Spidey Sense does come in handy for multiple choice, finding out whether an answer is wrong, and definitely in Kahoot,” Roman said, bringing a smile from everyone, including Logan.

“I'm proud of you guys. Like, really proud.”

The other gave him smiles as genuine as their thoughts, unable to say thank you enough in words.

As Logan went off to shower and the others cleaned up, Virgil felt a light buzzing in the back of his head, warning him of danger. The others stopped momentarily to mimic his action of rubbing their temples.

“What was that?” Roman asked.

There was a crash and suddenly Logan was running through the house, his uniform spreading out across his body like a virus. The others were forced to dive out of the way as Logan went hurling through the window, quickly regaining himself and swinging across the rooftops.

“Logan!” Thomas called, leaning out the window to try and stop him, but not getting anywhere. “What’s gotten into him?”

Virgil ran over to the bathroom and picked up his phone, which was laying on the ground. He skimmed the screen for half-a-second and went as pale as a sheet of paper.

“Patton’s in the hospital,” he whispered.

Within mere seconds of the utterance, the others had activated their uniforms and were following Logan’s web trails as quickly as they possibly could. They didn’t care that there might be people below wondering where they were going in such a rush. All that mattered was Patton was hurt, and they weren’t by his side.

The hospital came into view within the few minutes that they spent swinging, lit up like a Christmas Tree by police cars and news vans.

As one, they landed behind the police barricade, instantly overwhelmed with reporters screaming questions and flashing camera lights.

“Rainbow Weaver!” A nurse ran up to them, looking flustered. “We need you to come in through the hospital. It’s too risky to give them his floor number, but you can use the stairwell. Your friend is already up there.”

“Boys, I’m going to address the public,” Thomas said. “You get to P- Love Bite and make sure Arachne doesn’t do anything rash.”

They nodded and followed the nurse inside. Once the doors had securely closed, she said, “He’s five floors below the very top floor, but it’s very crowded right now. The top ten are our mutant and hero wards. We treat mutations, harmful effects of mutations as well as any major on-patrol injuries you heroes may sustain.”

“That’s fine, ma’am. Thank you so much,” Roman said, bolting into the stairwell after Virgil and beginning to leap from landing to landing, trying not to slip on the rounded handrails.

“Is he going to be alright?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t know. Did the article-”

“I only had time to read the headline. And it doesn’t matter. Patton���s like us, so anything that could put him in the hospital means either a big-bad or… something else.”

They were silent as they finally reached floor twenty-four and opened the door. They had heard it was busy but a more appropriate word would have been chaotic. People of all ages were walking around, covered in burns, scratches, strange colors, and other strange things modifications.

A doctor ran up to the two, looking tired and sweaty.

“Arachne is back here. Love Bite is in surgery right now, so if you'll follow me.”

“How bad is he?” Roman asked, opting to crawl on the ceiling to avoid knocking over anything on the ground.

“He fell from a fifteen-story building, so not good. Arachne explained that all of you have a healing ability that should have kept him from getting anything worse than a broken leg, but on top of them he has multiple broken ribs, a concussion, and his wrist is fractured. There's a lot of internal bleeding and his leg bone punctured his skin, so we're treating that right now.” The doctor sighed. “He's lucky it wasn't worse. But it seems that he is very sleep deprived and his body has been worked far past the point that his abilities could handle, which is why we think what happened, happened.”

Virgil and Roman shared a look of pure panic. Patton had been pushing himself past that point for months and they hadn't noticed until it was to late…

The doctor slowed down as he reached Logan, who was pacing all around the hallway, his legs retracted so nurses and doctors could bustle in and out of the room. When he saw his friends, he stopped and approached them.

“I assume you've been briefed about the state of our friend?”

“I told them what's happening, sir,” the Doctor said. “And you can't help or go in, I'm sorry. I understand that you can help, but we-”

A nurse came bustling out of the room.

“Doctor, he's almost closed up, we need a blood transfusion for him stat.”

“Right, I'll go-”

“No!” Logan, Roman, and Virgil yelled at once.

“His blood has been changed by the spider that gave me my abilities. A different one gave these two theirs,” Roman explained. “If his blood is contaminated by normal blood, he could die.”

The doctor nodded. “Do you have O-Negative or A-Positive.”

“Yeah, O,” Roman said.

“Janet, prep him.”

“Follow me, sir.” Roman gave them a quick nod before quickly following the nurse.

“I need to go finish up in there. You two can wait here, but he'll be moved to the recovery room and eventually a private room. It won't be any longer than a few hours.”

“That's fine. Thank you for taking such good care of our friend, sir,” Virgil said.

The doctor nodded and left the two of them. Logan sighed and slumped against the wall, falling to the ground like a rag doll.

“I should have known the instant he was harmed. No, I should have known long before now…”

“‘Rache, none of us knew,” Virgil said, sitting next to him. “He kept it hidden from all of us.”

“Ghost Spider, I'm able to hit my entire costume into three pieces of jewelry scarcely the size of my hand. I can calculate the physics in our swings and produce my own webbing, and yet I failed to notice that one of my closest friends was physically unable to be doing what he was doing,” Logan reasoned.

Virgil sighed, pulling down his hood. “I'm not good with this stuff, you know that, but… just know that all of us are feeling the exact same way. None of us figured it out, so you can't beat yourself up like this.”

Logan didn’t react, just sat there silently. Virgil knew that he had listened but hadn’t heard a word of what he had just said. If Logan didn’t want to move on, Virgil wouldn’t push, but at least the words were in his head.

What felt like hours passed, Thomas joining them somewhere in the middle. He was flustered and tired from dealing with the press and when he saw the two of them, gave them hugs that were returned gratefully. Roman returned soon after that, a little woozy from the blood transfusion, but still keeping his peppy attitude.

Twenty minutes later, the nurse who had taken Roman to get blood drawn approached them and together, they followed Nurse Janet silently into a small isolated room near the back of the hospital. This part was for heroes with secret identities but needed their masks removed for care. All of the doors were made of metal painted like wood, most likely laced with extreme numbers of countermeasures to keep prying eyes out.

Nurse Janet led them to Room 240 and before entering, turned to them. “As per procedure, I need to inform you that there are no security cameras in this entire ward, including the rooms, but we do have sensors in places to keep any unauthorized entry or exit. Doctor Henrik and I are the only two permitted into this room to keep his identity safe. S.H.I.E.L.D. and the hospital have an undisclosed way of blurring memories of appearance and name after a patient has been released. His and all of your identities are safe if you choose to remove your masks.”

They stepped into the room and froze at the sight that met them. Patton laying in bed, his costume removed to show a bruised, stitched up face. The monitor next to his bed had one-to-many numbers to make sense but had a steady, strong heartbeat flashing across the screen. His legs and arms were both suspended, wrapped thickly in stark-white gauze. His eyes were closed but even underneath the bandages, stitches, bandages and his oxygen mask, he was smiling slightly.

Logan crouched down on Patton’s left, touching his arm with shaking hands. Virgil sat down in the chair at the foot of his bed and Roman took the left. Thomas stayed standing, observing his proteges.

“He’s going to recover,” the nurse said, checking his medications. “From what I’ve learned working here if a person’s abilities go out, it’s due to pushing a physical limit. Proper sleep, some proper nutrition, and a few months of recovery and he should be swinging around with all of you, better than ever. He’ll be out of here in a week or so and as his healing factor returns, the time will decrease pretty rapidly, so I’m estimating about two months before he’s back on the walls.”

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” Thomas said, shaking her hand. “Is there any way we can have a hospital bill so we can begin… paying?”

She shook her head, smiling softly. “For me at least, you haven’t done anything extraordinary. However, you five have saved this city more than enough to pay for any bill we can hand you. If the city or hospital has something to say, I can say with absolute certainty than enough people in this city will vouch for you.”

Thomas swallowed a lump building in his throat and nodded, not trusting himself to speak without crying.

Once Nurse Janet had left, Thomas stood next to Virgil, looking down at Patton. As one, their uniforms were retracted back into their accessories, revealing four teary-eyed faces.

“We’ll stay for as long as you need, but you four have school tomorrow. Being late is one thing, ditching is another,” Thomas said, his voice choked with tears.

“FamILY comes first, Sanders,” Virgil replied, not looking away from Patton.

“We don't have any tests, quizzes or assignments due tomorrow,” Roman added.

“We're staying,” Logan finished.

Thomas didn't have an argument of any kind. All he had was a few words. “I'm so proud of you boys.”

When Patton finally opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of Roman and Virgil resting on each other's shoulders, Thomas slumped against a chair, his chest slowly rising and falling, and Logan at his side, still holding his hand and head resting near his legs.

He smiled, tears leaking out of his eyes, and went back to sleep to recover.

[spierfics]

Hdjdkd your fics make me so happy oh my gosbhdhe, but i had a silly fic idea. Basically, a spiderman/love, simon au? Doesn't matter which boy is spiderboy? Thank you again, for sharing your writing with us!! Your writing is so sweet!!

Over the Clouds - Spierfeld Fic

If Bram had known taking AP Chemistry would involve getting bitten by a radioactive spider; one which gave him super strength, insane reflexes, a sixth sense and the ability to shoot webs; Bram would have simply taken Physics.

But Bram had gotten used to the craziness by this point. It had been almost two years since the incident occurred, and more than a year since Spider-Man became a public figure.

The first few months were the toughest, especially since he had nobody to talk to. He had been afraid to speak to Garrett after he’d nearly rendered him unconscious with a pass on the field. The soccer ball had hit Garrett so badly that the school needed to call an ambulance.

Bram quit the team that day.

But Garrett wasn’t someone who quit on his friends, showing up at Bram’s home every day to make sure he was alright. Eventually, Bram told him the truth. It wasn’t like he could hide it forever, especially from someone who was as involved in his life as Garrett was.

“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Garrett said in complete awe when he’d first seen what Bram could do.

“Well, I’m still crap at everything,” Bram shrugged. “Not really a hero,”

“You’re not a hero,” Garrett replied. “You’re a fucking superhero,”

“Oh my god, did you read the latest article on Spidey?” Abby squealed, scrolling through her phone frantically.

Simon barely registered what she was saying, having been momentarily distracted. Bram Greenfeld had just entered the cafeteria.

Sure, Simon had been obsessed with the masked vigilante earlier in the year; but he’d given up on the idea of ever meeting him, let alone imagine a romantic scenario with the two of them together.

Simon wanted to focus on someone more real, and the way that adorable boy smiled at him sometimes made Simon forget that anyone else other than Bram existed. His crush on Bram had started a few months back when he and Bram were selected to help show new students around.

There was something about him, an aura, that he had a secret too. A part of himself that he couldn’t share with everyone, but he wanted to. It was something Simon couldn’t shake off, and since that day, Bram Greenfeld had been on his mind.

“Si! That woman he saved from the condo fire the other day, said she heard him up close and he sounded like her son. She said he sounded like a kid, not a man!” Abby nearly yelled, pulling Simon out of his thoughts.

“What’s your point?” Simon said, finally tearing his attention away from the table across from them.

“That he could be our age!” Abby rationalized. “He’s not necessarily a man, he could just be a regular kid like us,”

“What kind of kid would give up his everyday life to go around saving people?” Leah imposed, “You don’t think people around him would figure that out? Like his family? Or his friends?”

“Not if he was good at keeping secrets,” Abby replied back. “Come on, Nick. Back me up,”

“Hiding such a massive part of your identity from everyone you know,” Nick thought carefully. “Nah, that’s impossible,“

Simon tried his best not to roll his eyes.

It was way past midnight when Bram finally arrived home, way past the curfew he’d set for himself on school nights. It had been a quiet day, for the most part, there was one mugging and three cats in trees that were successfully taken care of.

Then there was the robbery, on a local grocery shop near an intersection. Bram had run into some trouble there, but Bram left that guy unconscious and tied up outside the store for the cops to find. So all in all, it ended pretty well.

Bram mentally checked his agenda, recalling that he’d managed to finish his Math homework during lunch, which he ate on a non-operational crane. His acrophobia was quite a battle in those early days of training, but he’d gotten control over his fear now. The sights he’d gotten to see were some of the most beautiful in his life.

Thinking of beautiful things, Bram’s mind casually drifted to one person; Simon Spier. Bram had only spoken to him a few times, through their common friend, but never on an individual basis. Bram wished he had the courage.

He scoffed out loud. Bram swung from building to building on a daily basis. He had run into burning apartments and physically fought men with guns. But nothing scared him more than having a conversation with his crush.

‘This is why there aren’t any teenage heroes,’ Bram thought to himself, flinching as he took off his suit.

Something was wrong.

It’s been a week since Bram had come to school, and although Simon had not-so-casually brought it up in a conversation with his friends, he hadn’t gotten any answers. He built up the courage, or stupidity, to go ask Garrett who always was by Bram’s side.

“Um, hey, Garrett?”

Garrett looked up from his phone, momentarily confused since they’d hardly ever spoken to each other, but then offered Simon a huge smile.

“Spier! How are you?”

Simon hesitated before sitting down opposite Garrett, he was certain that he wasn’t on a last-name basis with Garrett, who often called his team-mates by their last name. 

Regardless, he seemed like he was in a good mood, and Simon realized that Garrett probably didn’t care about why Simon was asking about Bram.

“I was just wondering…” Simon said in a small voice. “I haven’t seen Bram for a bit. Is he okay?”

Garrett eyed Simon suspiciously as if he were trying to analyze his intentions.

Simon cursed himself, knowing that asking would be a mistake, Garrett was going to find out and he’d tell Bram and then the entire school would…

“Bram pulled something on the pitch a few days ago, and it still hasn’t healed up,” Garrett finally offered. “But I’ll let him know you said ‘hi’,”

“Oh no! No, I was just worried because we’re partnered up in this Chemistry project together and I just hadn’t seen him…” Simon trailed off as he got up.

The thing was, both boys were lying to the other. And both of them knew it. Nick had told all of them that Bram had quit the team a while back. And Garrett knew Bram had vowed to never take another Chemistry class again in his life.

Garrett went to visit Bram that afternoon, sitting at his desk as Bram rested in bed. It was tough seeing his friend like this, knowing that he could do nothing to help him other than cheer him up.

A few days back, ‘Spider-Man’ had interrupted a grocery store robbery, and he must have been distracted because he came back home with a gunshot wound in his arm.

Apparently, he’d been feigning illness a little too well, and his mother let him take a few days off of school. Garrett was tasked with bringing Bram his assignments and a bunch of medical supplies.

“It’s looking better,” Garrett said, eyeing the wound.

“Scrapes and cuts heal up fast, but I guess this one was a little deeper,” Bram replied.

“That bullet nearly took your freaking arm off, and you didn’t even realize until you got home,”

“It was the adrenaline,” Bram explained.

“Aren’t your spider-senses supposed to defend you from that sort of stuff,”

“It did,” Bram defended himself. “That bullet was meant for my chest, I moved out of the way,”

“Fine,” Garrett surrendered. “Spier asked about you today,”

Bram immediately sat up in bed, staring at Garrett and urging him to elaborate.

“I don’t know! He was worried that you haven’t shown up all week, and then he wrote it off to some B.S excuse about being science partners or something,”

Bram couldn’t contain his smile, “I guess I’ll be back at school tomorrow,”

“Ok, Romeo. But remember, you can’t let distractions get the best of you,”

“I’ll try,”

He had a feeling this was going to be a good day, considering that Bram was finally back after his mysterious disappearance, and even offered him a smile as he sat down next to Garrett after lunch.

Their entire History class had a field trip together that day, and Simon was particularly excited since he and Bram were the only ones who knew each other in that class.

The bus ride wasn’t filled with too much entertainment, but somehow he’d found the courage to offer his seat to Bram, who kindly accepted. Bram was so easy to talk to, once they got past the initial shyness, the conversation flowed easily.

By the time they got to the museum, Simon felt like they were inseparable.

“Hey Bram, I think we’re going to head to the café in about twenty minutes…” Simon began but could see that Bram’s expression had suddenly changed.

“Did you feel that?” Bram asked looking around at nothing in particular.

“No,” Simon replied.

“Si, you need to get out of this building. Take as many people as you can with you, okay!” Bram said in a frantic tone.

Simon was momentarily frozen, not knowing whether he should focus on the random change in Bram’s demeanour, the weight of his words or the nickname that Bram had so effortlessly used.

Simon could barely catch his breath, racing out of the building and holding on to Bram’s hand. He didn’t know how Bram was running that fast, but before he knew it they were out of the building.

“It looks like Mr. Sykes got the class out,” Bram commented, counting the number of their classmates.

“What was that,” Simon asked, his voice shaking.

“I don’t know,” Bram answered, keeping his gaze on the upper floors of the museum. “You should join everyone,”

“What about you?” Simon asked, wondering why Bram seemed so preoccupied at a time like this.

“I’ll join you in a second. I’m going to look for some staff members and talk to them,”

“Why? Did you see something,”

“Yeah, I think I did,”

Bram found an abandoned corner of the building, which housed industrial-sized garbage containers. A perfect cover, and within moments Bram was suited up.

He walked back a few steps before slinging a web to the top of the building. He was sure there would be an entrance up there.

Surely enough, there was and as Bram carefully stepped into the building, he could hear voices. There were four men, definitely armed and Bram planned the entire fight out.

Within seconds, he climbed up on the ceiling, taking advantage of the one who was a lookout and knocking him out cold.

One seemed to be focused on a large piece of artillery, something that could have caused the explosion, while the other two seemed to be looking at blueprints. Bram decided to go after the two, knocking their heads together in one go.

The last one turned around in a panicked state and fired his handgun at Bram. He managed to dodge them without much effort and managed to swing the gun right out of his hands. Another web pulled the final criminal towards him, and Bram used the leverage to kick him down into unconsciousness.

Tying up the criminals was always the most difficult part, as Bram always worried one would wake up and move around, but the four of them were wrapped around a pillar within ten minutes.

Bram shook his head, why couldn’t he have one day off.

Next, Bram checked the main floors for anyone who wasn’t in the building and then exited the museum.  He took a moment to address everyone in the crowd, ensuring them that they were all safe, and he’d taken care of those who were involved in the crime.

“Please let the authorities know that they’ll find the four men in the northwest section of the enclave in the upper level. They’ve been disarmed and the artillery is military-grade. If anyone’s in serious need of medical attention, I can get them to a hospital right now,”

“We’re missing people!” Mr. Sykes called out to him, and Bram panicked before remembering he was a student too.

“How many people?” Bram asked, trying to deepen his voice.

“Two of my students. Bram Greenfeld and Simon Spier,”

“Simon?”

“Yes, and Abraham Greenfeld. According to some of my kids, Simon went to look for his friend,”

“And you let him?!” Bram yelled but caught himself in time before he went too far. “Sorry, I’ll go look for the two of them, just please keep everyone else safe,”

Mr. Sykes nodded, slightly backing away in fear.

Simon knew that sneaking into the building wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but he couldn’t imagine leaving Bram in that type of danger. Currently, he was stuck in an elevator, which had stopped working halfway through.

The lights were flickering on and off, and Simon was sure he’d heard gunshots. It was only a matter of time before someone found him, and it could mean either rescue or something worse.

It felt like forever before he heard another sound, and Simon wasn’t sure if he was imagining those sounds. Someone was calling his name, and he was ninety percent sure any criminals wouldn’t be on a first-name basis with him.

“Simon! Are you here?”

For some reason, Simon thought he recognized that voice, so he shouted back: “Bram! I’m in here!”

The elevator doors began creaking, and Simon knew there was no earthly way Bram could open those with his bare hands. And he was correct because it wasn’t Bram.

“Spider-Man?”

“Hey, are you alright?”

Simon felt like that the masked vigilante sounded eerily similar to Bram, but blamed it on the frantic situation he was in.

“Y-Yeah. I’m okay,” Simon stuttered. “Are you alright?”

Spider-Man seemed to be confused, and paused before saying, “Nobody’s ever asked me that before,”

Simon couldn’t see it, but he was sure that the guy beneath the mask was smiling at him.

“I’m gonna step into the elevator okay? And then I’m going to help you out. This elevator is stuck between two floors, so there’s a bit of a drop, but you’re gonna be safe, understand?”

“Got it,”

“Okay. I’m stepping in now,”

Spider-Man took a step inside and Simon could feel the structure shake beneath him; the hero beside him could clearly feel it too. Spider-Man carefully opened the hatch above them and seemed to be measuring the space mentally.

Then he offered his hand to Simon, who took it slowly.

“Just hold on as tight as you can, okay. And don’t look down,”

Simon wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other around his neck, holding on as tight as possible. In a flash, Spidey shot a web up and Simon could feel himself being yanked upwards. He closed his eyes shut, but the sound of the crash was unmistakable. That could have been him.

When he felt his feet on solid ground, Simon finally opened up his eyes. He was clearly high up, higher than he’d ever been before. Looking down at the crowd below, he realized he was on the roof of the building.

“You’re okay,” Spider-Man offered him some comfort.

“Did you find Bram?”

The masked hero waited a moment before responding. “Bram?”

“He’s my…” Simon paused. “He’s my friend, the one I went back in looking for,”

“I wouldn’t advise doing that in the future,” the disguised hero replied sternly. “There was nobody else in the building, but I’ll keep an eye out for him,”

“Okay. Thanks for saving me and everything,” Simon said to him casually, “let me know if there’s any way I can pay you back.”

Simon was certain he had just made Spider-Man laugh, and he could definitely put that down on his bucket list.

After dropping off Simon with the crowd, Bram changed back into his regular clothes within a matter of minutes and raced back around the building.

“Bram!” Simon said, as soon as he saw him, running up and wrapping his arms around him in a hug. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m fine. I went looking for you,”

“So did I,” Simon replied. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bram nodded. “Are you?”

“Yeah, got into a little bit of trouble, but I got out of it just fine. Met Spider-Man,” Simon shrugged, sporting a shy smile.

“Oh?” Bram returned his smile.

“He’s not all that he’s hyped up to be,” Simon replied jokingly.

Arriving home, his mother greeted with a tight hug, refusing to let him go for a number of minutes. 

‘If only she knew’ Bram thought to himself. 

As the day turned into night, Bram went over the day’s events in his mind. He had an urge to swing on by to Simon’s house, in full costume, knowing that it was probably the dumbest thing he could ever do. Maybe this was why crushes and heroism didn’t mix well together, but Bram had to remember he was a teenager, and priorities were always muddled.

He paced around back and forth in his room, putting the mask on and off wondering who would impress Simon more. He knew the obvious answer was Spidey, but Bram had a feeling that he and Simon had gotten off considerably well throughout the day. Simon had actually gone looking for him, and that had to mean something.

He almost missed the knock on his door, and barely had time to shove the mask under his bed.

“Honey?” Bram’s mom opened the door an inch. “There’s someone here to see you?”

“Garrett?”

“Nope,” Bram’s mom replied mysteriously.

Bram walked down the stairs and was pleasantly surprised to see Simon in his foyer.

“Si?” Bram said, walking up to him, face riddled with confusion. 

“Hey, Bram. I-I wanted to see how you were doing, after today,” Simon shuffled in place.

“We can step outside,” Bram offered, wondering if Simon wanted to talk alone.

They sat together on their front porch, and Simon tried to keep his breathing under control. He had no idea how he’d built up the courage to do this, but he knew he had to.

If his experience today had taught him anything, it was that nothing was promised, not even the next moment. Today could have ended very differently for him, for Bram, and for everyone there. And he knew that someone wouldn’t always be there to save them.

He needed to let Bram know the truth.

“I like you,” Simon blurted out as soon as they sat down.

“What?”

“I know that sounds fucking weird to hear, and I don’t even know if you like guys, or let alone like me…but I could have died today and I realized that I couldn’t let a day go by without letting you know that…”

“Si?” Bram interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I like you too. A lot,” Bram replied.

“Oh?”

“And if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to kiss you,”

“That’s more than okay,”

Bram carefully leaned in to close the distance, closing his eyes in time. He felt the gentlest movement against his mouth and Bram felt his heart skip a beat. Simon was kissing him back.

Bram wanted to stay in this moment for as long as he could, but he knew that this one act was going to change everything. This was going to be another person who he’d either be keeping a secret from, or to whom he’d be confessing a heavy truth. This was someone who’s safety could be used against him. Someone with whom he would fall in love.

But Bram pushed away those intrusive thoughts, giving his all to the kiss. At that moment, he decided, nothing else was going to matter. No bad guys, no overbearing stress, not his secret identity; nobody existed outside of the bubble of himself and the boy in his arms.

There would come a time where he’d have to trust Simon with everything, and Bram had an inkling it would turn out fine. After all, Simon owed him one.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Spaghetti and Insecurity Fanfic

Title: Spaghetti and Insecurity

Summary: Virgil is neither Patton or Logan. He cannot offer emotional support or be a comforting pillar of rationality. He’s just Virgil, and sometimes he wonders if being Virgil is enough.

Something is wrong with Princey--he’s holed himself up in his room and has refused to join the others for dinner the last couple days. Will Virgil be able to find what’s making his life difficult and kill it? Or will he just make things worse by being himself? (Human!AU)

Pairings: platonic prinixety (background platonic LAMP)

Words: 2619

Warnings: self-deprecation, anxiety,  insecurity, food mention

This is the result of someone randomly sending me an unsolicited one-word prompt. I’d thought I would write up a short fic for funsies. It was supposed to only be three sentences long dangit. Anyways, I’m sure this wasn’t what you were expecting, @focusteens, but here you go  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Patton poked his head into Virgil’s room.

“What are we eating?” Virgil asked, taking off his headphones

“Food.” Patton winked, and then vanished. A moment later he heard a distant knock on Logan’s door.

Virgil groaned at Patton’s reply. He knew that Patton meant it in good spirit, but vague answers like that made Virgil…well, anxious. He knew Patton wouldn’t poison him. Not on purpose, anyways. There was that one time where Patton had forgotten about Virgil’s almond allergy. He’d apologized profusely for days afterwards.

He put away his headphones before standing up from his bed and stretching. Satisfied, he crept into the hallway, nearly running into Logan in the process.

“Virgil!” Logan called out, nearly dropping his book as he sidestepped away to avoid a collision.

“Sorry, Logan.” Virgil sheepishly muttered.

“It’s quite alright, it’s my fault for walking and reading at the same time.” The other man collected himself for a moment before heading towards the kitchen.

Virgil followed after him. Patton was already there, moving to place a steaming pot of something directly onto the table. Virgil rushed to clasp Patton’s wrist, stopping the pot from reaching the table.

“Pat, wait.” Virgil hesitated, his next words lost in a flurry of panic.

“What’s wrong?” Patton furrowed his brows.

“You forgot a potholder,” Logan explained, brandishing said item in his hands. In the time that Virgil stopped Patton, the other had recognized the problem and found a solution. Logan was good at that. Virgil was just a problem-identifier, not a problem-solver.

Logan placed the potholder onto the table and together both Virgil and Patton slowly lowered the pot onto the potholder.

“Thanks, Virge. I could’ve burned a hole in the table!” Patton grinned.

“It’s no problem.” Virgil murmured, as he slid into his seat.

He was embarrassed about how he overreacted to the situation. Patton placing a hot pot on the wooden table wasn’t the end of the world. But Patton had saw Virgil’s actions for what they were; a concern for Patton’s safety, and appreciated them for that exact reason.

That was one of the many reasons why he loved Patton Hart. The reasons were so numerous that it was incomprehensible as to why anyone wouldn’t love Patton Hart. Virgil has and would fight anyone who would say a bad word against him.

“Bon appetit!” Patton exclaimed, opening the lid of the pot to reveal spaghetti noodles.

Virgil glanced around the table to see tomato sauce and Parmesan cheese sitting by the pot. Spaghetti. Good, Virgil liked spaghetti. It was a favorite among all the occupants of the apartment including Logan, despite protests otherwise. He always groaned and cited other healthy alternatives they could be eating compared to the Italian dish. But Virgil knew who ate the most of the leftovers from Spaghetti nights.

As Patton started piling noodles onto Virgil’s bowl, he realized something.

“Hey, where’s Princey?” He asked, referring to Roman.

The two had met during a production of Into the Woods at the local community theatre. Virgil gotten himself roped into the tech crew and that’s where he met Roman, who played the part of Cinderella’s Prince. Virgil sarcastically referred to him as Princey once, and the nickname stuck.

But that was beside the point. There was only three bowls on the table, and Virgil was sure Roman was home. He’d saw the other in the kitchen a few hours ago. Roman practically bolted back into his bedroom, coffee mug in hand, moments after a quick exchange of Hellos.

Patton paused.

“He wouldn’t come out–said he had some writing to finish up.” Patton noted with a sad smile.

“Again?” Virgil scowled.

“This has been the third night in a row, if I’m not mistaken.” Logan said,  adjusting his glasses.

“Now, now kiddos! You know how Roman gets when inspiration hits.” Patton said, thinly concealing his own concern, “I’ll bring him a plate of food after we’re done.”

“No, I’ll do it.” Virgil said, surprising even himself with the demand. But he needed to know if the idiot was still alive in there.

He cleared his throat, “I mean if it’s alright with you, Patton…”

“Of course,” Patton waved it off, “I can do the dishes tonight for you while you do that.”

“Patton you already cooked dinner,” Virgil protested, “I can still clean the dishes after I deliver the food to him.”

“I insist!”

Virgil opened his mouth, but Logan beat him to the punch.

“How about Patton and I do the dishes together?” He suggested.

“Alright.” Virgil sullenly agreed.

Once more Logan had solved the problem, this time through a compromise. Virgil didn’t hold a grudge against Logan. It was very much the opposite. Virgil admired Logan’s ability to view a situation objectively and apply rational solutions to it. He wished he could be as steadfast in logic as Logan was.

Dinner carried on without a hitch. Patton launched into a tale about the humorous pet parrot he saw today at the vet clinic. He worked as a vet assistant. Which was really the perfect job for him, despite how emotional he got when they were forced to put down pets. He knew the animals were in a better place now that they weren’t feeling any pain, but it was still really sad okay!?

After they finished their meal, Virgil stood up and made a bowl for Roman. He made sure to put an absurd amount of Parmesan cheese on it, as per Roman’s tastes.

As he left, Logan was attempting to hide a chuckle from Patton’s punning antics. As with spaghetti, Logan held a secret appreciation of puns. Patton knew this, which was why he tried fitting as many puns in one breath in his presence to get a reaction out of Logan.

Virgil walked down the hallway, taking a left at his door to where Roman’s bedroom was located. It was the largest of the four bedrooms in the apartment, as it was technically the master bedroom. It was perfect for Roman’s needs, however, as he housed a lot of his props and costumes from the various plays he participated in.

He drew a breath, balancing the bowl in one hand before knocking on the door with the other.

“Coming, Padre!” A muffled voice shouted. He could hear Roman stumbling his way over before the doorknob jiggled. Roman opened the door only about half a foot wide, causing Virgil to be unable to see the current state of his room. Looking at the state Roman was in, he had a feeling that the bedroom was likely messy.

“You’re not Patton.” Roman frowned.

“Very observant, Roman.” Virgil wryly remarked, “I got pasta for you--extra Romano cheese, your favorite.”

The other cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Thank you, Virgil,” He said, taking the bowl from Virgil. The door started to swing shut.

“Wait just a minute!” Virgil stuck out his foot, preventing the door from shutting all the way. He grimaced in pain but continued, “We need to talk!”

“About what?” Roman suddenly snapped, his grip growing tighter around the bowl.

“Why you look like shit for starters.” Virgil bit back, folding up his arms.

Roman spluttered but he didn’t deny it. Because it was the truth. He really did look like shit. Roman was usually a fanatic about his appearance. He spent a full hour fixing his hair and applying makeup. He was obsessed with contour; making his cheekbones appear sharper and his nose slimmer. He antagonized over his outfit, even during casual outings. 

No he couldn’t just throw on a hoodie and a pair of skinny jeans and call it a day. Nor could he certainly wear those red sneakers with that shade of pomegranate, please take this seriously okay Virgil?!

However, staring at the man in front of him, it’d be impossible to know he was the same man that once ordered a pair of converse in three different colors to color-coordinate with his outfits. Virgil was almost certain there was a whole rat family living in Roman’s hair. Dark circles clung to his eyes, weighing him down like bowling balls. Usually Roman made an attempt to hide them with makeup. But his acne face was void of any make-up. He wore a baggy wrinkled polka dotted t-shirt that clashed horribly with his striped PJ pants. Saying Roman looked like shit was a nice way of putting it.

“Alright,” Roman relented, sighing heavily as he let Virgil in.

As suspected, the state of his room was just as bad as Roman’s appearance. Piles of dirty clothing, papers, and other various stuff cluttered the floor. He spotted a cluster of coffee mugs on Roman’s desk, solving the mystery of where all their mugs were disappearing off to. Sitting beside the mugs was a collection of partially eaten dinners.

This was definitely worse than what Virgil had expected. His spidey senses had been acting up ever since Roman holed himself up in his room. Yes, there were times when Roman was struck with inspiration and became obsessed with writing until it became scarce once more. But he usually was excited to share with the others in his triumphs, he loved to bounce ideas off of them.

Roman swallowed nervously, and opened up his mouth to speak but Virgil cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear what’s eating at you until you’ve actually eaten something, alright?” He said, gesturing towards the bowl of spaghetti.

Virgil glared at him until Roman started reluctantly shoving noodles into his mouth. He got halfway through before he almost choked, sobbing wrenching his throat.

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Virgil set the bowl aside before turning to face Roman before hesitating. He wasn’t Patton or Logan. He wasn’t good at providing emotional support or being a pillar of comforting rationality. He was just Virgil, who was a walking anxiety attack waiting to happen.

But he was all Roman had at the moment, so he reached out his arms, silently offering Roman a hug. An offer the latter took full heartedly, launching at Virgil with such a force that almost caused him to fall over.

Virgil patted his back, doing his best to assuage Roman. When his tears faded away, Virgil pulled away enough to look at Roman in the eyes.

“What’s bothering you, Princey?” He murmured, “Do I need to find whatever’s making your life difficult and kill it?”

The corners of Roman’s lips turned up at the inside joke reference. It quickly fell as he mulled over his answer.

“It’s--it’s stupid.” He croaked, his voice lackluster and missing its normal regaliness.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Virgil raised his eyebrows.

“Oh you know me, I overreacted as usual,” Roman laughed apprehensively, “seriously, Virgil, I’ll be back to my usual fabulous self in no time--”

“Tell me, dammit!”

“Roman’s voice faltered as he blinked up at Virgil, spooked by his exclamation.

“Man, I’m shit at this,” Virgil mumbled underneath his breath before speaking up, “Look I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by pressuring you. I just wanna let you know that I’m...worried about you. I know saying this makes me a big hypocrite but you don’t have to face things alone. I’m here if you want to talk and I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not stupid.”

Roman studied his face, oddly quiet compared to his loud boisterous self. It could’ve only been a minute, but Virgil was already panicking. Did he mess up? Was Roman mad at him?

“I can also get either Patton or Logan if you want--”

“No, I want you.” Roman said, collapsing onto the floor in a heap. His head rested against his dresser as he let out a heavy sigh. Cautiously, Virgil moved to join him, sitting down cross-legged.

“I submitted one of my novels to a couple publishers.”

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked, eyes widening in surprise.

Roman had been working on becoming a published author for as long as Virgil had known him. The only problem with this was that Roman suffering from the usual writing woes. Too many ideas and not enough time nor motivation to quench them all.

Like in other areas of his life, Roman was passionate and spontaneous. He put his heart and soul in a project, claimed it was the One, only to abandon it for a more exciting project days later.

“I cannot write if there is no passion!” Roman once cried out when Logan suggested he should dig his heels in and finish a project.

As much as Roman went on about his projects, he was...hesitant about showing his writing with the others. The one time he allowed Logan to look at his writing it nearly ended their friendship. Logan had been rather zealous with his constructive criticism. Roman proclaimed that one day the others would be able to read his novel once it was published.

“I’ll give you all signed copies of course.” He winked.

Virgil didn’t need verbal confirmation to know that hadn’t happened.

“I--I wanted to surprise you guys,” Roman chuckled darkly, “I had it planned out and everything. I was going to drag you all to a bookstore and shock you all.”

He sighed.

“I took all the necessary preparations--but,” Roman turned to face away from Virgil, “they hated it, Virge. Th-they all hated it. I had my one shot and I blew it.”

“Whoa, whoa hey,” Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder, “there’s not a limit to how many times you can submit a novel for publishing, is there?”

.“No.” Roman admitted, sniffling.

“You’re not Alexander Hamilton, Roman. You didn’t have one shot that you threw away--you’ve still got multiple shots left.” Virgil winced. Did that sound good, did he do good?!

Roman looked back at him, studying his face.

“But what if everyone hates it?” Roman’s voice cracked.

“Okay, I know for a fact not everyone will hate it. You’ve got Logan, Patton and me--we don’t care about what stuffy old editors think, we’ll love regardless. Besides, J.K Rowling? She got rejected billions of times before the Harry Potter series was picked up.”

“Wh--how could they not recognize a masterpiece when they saw it?” Roman demanded, some of his usual vigor returning.

“I don’t know, but imagine being one of the editors who rejected it.” Virgil said. Roman let out a bark of laughter, and Virgil smiled in relief.

“Look, all I’m saying Roman is that imagine if Rowling gave up after the first few rejections. Imagine a world without Harry Potter and how radically different our generation would be because of that.”

Roman gave a horrified shudder.

“If Rowling didn’t give up, I don’t think you should either.” Virgil shrugged his shoulders, “after all, heroes don’t give up when the going gets tough, right?”

Something flickered across Roman’s face and for a moment, Virgil was worried he’d messed up. But then Roman leaned forward, burying his head into the nook of Virgil’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his middle. Virgil rolled his eyes, but placed an arm around Roman as he used the other to cradle his head.

“Thank you.” Roman whispered.

Virgil stiffened, startled by Roman’s stark gratitude.

“N-no problem, Princey.” He recovered, pulling out of the hug, “why don’t we go see if Pat and Lo are up for a movie night?”

“That sounds good--it’s been a while since we’ve done one,” The other smiled, “We should watch Aladdin--no Beauty and the Beast!”

“How about both?” Virgil suggested.

Roman’s smile grew, “I like the way you think.”

He excitedly bounded down the hallway like an excited labrador, singing a mismatched medley of songs from both the movies. Virgil shook his head at his antics, but secretly he was glad to see he’d helped Roman return to his usual self.

Virgil was not Logan or Patton. He couldn’t be there for Roman in the ways they were there for him. He was just Virgil, and Virgil was enough.

General Tag List: (if you’d like to be added or taken off, please message me or send me an ask!) @karebearmay @punsterterry  @yourhappypappypatton@alextheodd@cryingtitan @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2@usothemarshmallow@madly-handsome  @i-just-wanna-be-alone-blog @remy-alagaesias-dragon-queen@ashrain5 @otaku-marijane @pathos-logical@moonstone-fox@violetvirgil @fandergecko @echomist13

[thosemultifandomwritings]

Ink Pt. 2 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Soulmate AU where everything you write or draw on your skin appears on your soulmate too

Part 1  ...  Part 2  ...  Part 3 

Good luck on your chem test today!

You smiled down at your wrist, grabbing your bag before heading out the door. Walking down the many stairs of your apartment, you gripped a felt pen in your hand, cap gripped in between your teeth, careful not to loose it. Over the last few weeks, you had experimented with a lot of pens, and if you didn’t have a marker, felt tipped pens were the next best thing. It was soft enough on your skin and pretty easy to wash off. Honestly, you had gone through many pens these past few weeks.

Thanks P. Try not to write any equations on me this time, wouldn’t want to get caught cheating(:

Peter leaving his apartment in Queens couldn’t help the breathy laugh that escaped his mouth as he read the words appearing on his arm. He basically tripped over his own foot as he began his walk to the subway, pulling out one of the many pens that sat in his pocket.

It was one time!

The relationship between the two of you had flourished quickly in the past few weeks. Even with the little time you had known him, you had found yourself developing a cliché high school crush on a guy you had never even met.

You had learned his name was Peter and he was from Queens, which made you absolutely giddy inside. You yourself lived in Manhattan and knowing your soulmate lived so close brought you instant joy. People always said fate brought soulmates together, but you could have never pictured fate placing your soulmate a mere bus ride away.

You were having an amazing time getting to know Peter, but there was always a nagging voice in the back of your head to keep your guard up. Of course, having a soulmate was an absolute blessing. But soulmates are only human after all. You had heard countless stories of people who had developed a connection with their soulmate, only to have them ripped away from them by death and other horrible travesties. The soulmate bond is such a strong feeling, that many soulmates of those who had perished end up spiraling. You didn’t like to think these horrible things, but even from the little time you had known Peter, you couldn’t imagine not having him.

Despite this, you still caught yourself reaching for a pen anytime something amazing happened, or on the other hand, if something bad happened. You itched to tell Peter about almost every aspect of your day. It was as if there were a magnet between your hand and a pen, and you constantly found yourself trying to hold back from making a fool out of yourself before you had even gotten the chance to meet him.

Peter on the other end, was doing no better than you. He would constantly check his arm to make sure he didn’t miss a note from you. He had even equipped his Spidey suit to have room for a few ballpoint pens in case he found himself on the top of a building late one night and felt his arm tingle. On his late night Spider Man adventures, he would find himself in Manhattan more often than not. Sometimes he would picture one of the giant skyscrapers he would swing by would be your apartment, you sleeping away as he worked to keep the city safe.

The two of you up until this point had never discussed meeting up, but as the weeks went by, Peter felt an urge to meet you. An urge to see what you looked like. To meet the person he was destined to be with.

But he was also worried. He hadn’t told you anything about Spider-Man. I mean, what we he supposed to say? “Hey and by the way, you know Spider-Man? The red and blue spandex wearing crime fighter who can sling webs from his wrists? That’s me! You can look me up on YouTube!” Not only was that way too much to write on his arm, but he would sound like an absolute crazy person. Peter was already nervous enough talking to you, let alone telling you all about his alter ego. As Spider-Man became more of a household name, more and more enemies were coming out of the woodworks. Everyone knew about soulmates, and if one of the many villains that littered the streets were to find out the Spider-Man had an ultimate weakness? There’s no telling what could happen to you. What could happen to you all because of him. Peter refused to get you in the middle of his Spider business.

It was as if the two of you together shared an unspoken agreement that for now, you two would remain apart.

It was another few days later when Peter found himself at Avengers Tower. He had fallen asleep on the couch in one of the many lounges after a very long meeting with members of the group. Having so many strong personalities in one room was always mentally exhausting, especially if they happened to slightly disagree on something. This time, Steve had suggested an alternate plan to one they had already discussed, many members disagreeing with him and frankly wanting to be done with the meeting all together. Peter had taken Steve’s side in the argument, shocking some of the other members seeing as he usually kept pretty quiet and agreed with whatever Tony said. In short, Peter had really needed a nap.

As Peter’s eyes were closed, he felt a slight shiver run up his arm, causing him to stir from his sleep. As Peter’s eyes blinked open, adjusting to the light, the first thing he did was look down at his left arm.

Hey P...why is there a red white and blue star on my forehead...

It took him a few seconds to really process what you had written, but when he did, he jolted off the couch, tripping over a blanket someone must have put on him while he was sleeping. He ran to the first reflective surface he could find, which happened to be one of the any gigantic windows that littered the walls, and looked at his reflection. Smack right in the middle of his forehead sat a very crudely drawn star covered in a red, white and blue American flag.

Peter groaned, reaching into his pockets to find a pen to write back to you. Forgetting he had changed earlier, he silently cursed to himself as he came up empty handed. He jogged to the nearest place he knew a pen would be, which happened to be Tony’s lab.

“Mr. Stark I really need a pen!” He exclaimed, bursting through the door and immediately scanning the room.

“Whoa kid, where’s the fire?” Tony asked, looking up from some piece of metal, “And what in the actual hell is on your forehead?”

“Thor and Mr. Barton think they are so funny,” Peter grumbled, his eyes never leaving the many drawers he was currently scrambling through. Clint, who had been snickering with Thor upon seeing Peter’s appearance, quickly stopped as he heard Peter.

“Hey kid, you have no proof it was us,” he said shrugging while trying to keep a straight face, pretending to get back to work on one of his bows.

“Thor?” Tony asked, as if Thor were a small child whose parents already knew they were guilty.

“It was I and my good friend Clint,” Thor laughed deeply, grabbing Clint around the shoulders as Clint groaned. Peter, disconnected from the conversation at hand, had finally found a pen. Gripping it rather tightly in his hand, he lifted his shirtsleeve to scribble back to you.

I’m so sorry! My friends think that are funny. Hope it didn’t inconvenience you too much.

Finally exhaling, Peter tuned back into the conversation to hear Clint explaining rather loudly to Thor on the meaning of a secret. Pen still in hand, he stared at his arm waiting for your response. He found himself waking out of the lab towards the bathroom to clean his face, knocking into a few walls on the way as his eyes kept flickering back to his arm.

Just stayed in my room to avoid questions. Kinda dig the patriotic look. Your friends seem ready for war :P

Peter finally relaxed at knowing you weren’t annoyed and began to scrub his forehead with soap to rid himself, and you, from the rather bad drawing.

Some of them were in one, a while ago though

Peter had written it before he really thought about it, wanting to write it before the soap got in his eyes. In the middle of scrubbing, he realized what he had actually written and immediately began to scrub his arm. Maybe he could get it off before you saw it. Water now trickling down his face, he had most of the words off his arm, but it was too late.

A while ago? P...please tell me you aren’t an old man

Scrambling for the pen once again, it slipped from his wet fingers onto the ground. He practically pounced on it, writing in all caps back to you.

NO!

Your response came mere seconds later as Peter now sat down on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, rubbing his eyes vigorously as soap had now gotten in them. His eyes teared up as his eyes stung, blinking rapidly in order to be able to focus them on your words.

Calm down P, I can basically hear your heartbeat from Manhattan. I’m just joking

Ignoring the fact that he was also currently in Manhattan when you assumed he was home in Queens, he let out a loud breath. His cheeks turned a deep pink as he reread your message, his eyes lingered on the end. At the very end of the sentence, you had drawn a tiny heart.

He felt his own heart beat faster in his chest as his eyes stayed glued to the shape. After a few seconds, he physically shook his head to snap himself out of it. I mean, you clearly didn’t mean anything by it. At least that’s what Peter told himself to make the blood stop rushing to his cheeks.

His head tipped back to lean on the cool tile that surrounded the bathroom walls, his bloodshot eyes staring up at the ceiling. It would be an understatement to say that Peter was completely shocked at the effect you could have on him with one little shape. If this is how he reacted when he read a message from you, what the hell would he do if he were to ever meet you?

A/N: Next chapter will be a lil drama so buckle in guys and gals ;)

If you would like to be added to the taglist for the series, just let me know (Sorry if anyone got double notifications, first time uploading this there was a problem <3)

As always, requests and comments can be sent here .xx

Taglist 

@abswritesfandoms , @blackcat-midnight-thatsme , @axielle-suson , @justmilla , @noodleboylester , @squirrellover1967 , @sockywell , @iris-suoh , @tom-holland-imagines-are-us , @issyogirllexie , @embrace-themagic , @monster-alien-chode , @parker-underoos , @sergeantrosabellaswan

[bruciewayne]

6 times Steve Rogers met the Avengers [1/7]

and the one time Bucky introduced them.

aka The Avengers finally meet Bucky's roommate.

(shrinkyclinks ~roommate~ au)

read on ao3

masterpost

shrinkyclinks roommate au

“You, are you ‘Nomad’?” someone asked Steve, male, vaguely angry, voice cutting through his music. He tugged out one of his earphones, his Ma didn’t raise an asshole, and looked up at - oh shit, that’s Tony Stark.

Steve did a quick double check of everything around and behind his table, and got up, moving in front of the table.

He would be intimidated by Tony Stark, the man was a superhero, a genius and a billionaire, but based on what Bucky had told him, Tony Stark seemed like the adult, father version of Peter Parker with a little bit of John Mulaney sprinkled in and Steve highly doubted that he would ever be able to take Peter seriously. Even if his brogues probably cost more than his rent.

“Can I help you?” He asked, more than a little confused, because, firstly, his Ma definitely didn’t raise an asshole and secondly, it was 8 am in the San Diego convention center, an hour before SDCC opened for the public, so what the literal fuck was a billionaire doing here? Unless the weed from last night was still in effect? Probably not.

“You’re an asshole.” Tony Stark replied, primly, crossing his arms and peering down at him over his sunglasses. Steve glared up at him, “What’d I ever do to you?” He mentally ran through everyone he may or may not have pissed off in the last week, it was only the first day of Comic Con, and it hadn’t even technically started yet, and he hadn’t disagreed with too many dudebros yet. Although he didn’t peg Tony Stark as a dudebro.

He pulled out his phone, tapped a couple things, and then shoved it under Steve’s nose.

youknowhoiam + nomad

youknowhoiam i would like to commission you for a 24x36” print of each of the avengers, $500k for each

read 22:34pm, 3 weeks ago

That was Tony Stark!?

Steve looked up at him for a couple seconds, long enough for him to question him. “Uh, you ok, kid?”

“That was you? I thought someone was playing a prank!” Steve said, slightly panicked, now not entirely sure that the weed actually left his system.

“Jesus kid,” Tony Stark said, rolling his eyes and grabbing Steve’s arm and basically frog-marching him out of the center, “we’re going to Starbucks and we’ll have a talk about this commission.”

Steve didn’t really have anything against the Avengers, hell, he was very much in love with one of them, and half a million dollars for each one… he was gay so he just barely passed high-school math class and they never trusted him with the finance stuff at the coffee shop where he worked part-time, but even he knew that that was a pretty, very good deal.

Getting dragged out of the center by a guy who was a lot stronger than he let on, he had a small something against.

“Stark! Stark! Let me go, I will go to Starbucks with you,” Steve said, straightening out his flannel shirt when he let him go.

“Oi Stark! You better not be harassing my boy Rogers,” Wade, the slightly strange security guy who may or may not actually be a security guy but some college guy but Steve stopped wondering a while ago, said, pretty much materializing out of thin air, just before they were about to leave the center.

“Wade go back to your boyfriend,” Steve said rolling his eyes, but he was smiling, which ruined any effect he was going for. Wade grinned down at him and ruffled his hair, “Aww babe, you’re right here,” he said, pressing a loud, obnoxious kiss to the top of his head, stumbling a little when Steve shoved him and grumbled that both of them were already taken, dickhead.

“Wade, stop flirting with my artist-” Tony started, putting on his ‘I’m Tony Stark’ voice.

“Would you rather I flirt with Spidey?” Wade said, smirking and then disappearing behind a plant when Tony just about lunged at him, running back into the center when he thought they couldn’t see him (he was in a bright red Spider-Man cosplay, it was the middle of July, in California, they could see him very well).

“He’s an ass,” Tony grumbled, walking quickly and ducking into Starbucks.

“Eh,” Steve said, shrugging, “you get used to it.”

They both got large americanos, Steve because he was at Comic Con and he was only human, Tony because it was his regular order, this was one of many for the both of them today, and Tony explained what he wanted and refused to pay him less than 100,000 dollars for each one (they worked it down to 90,000 dollars because Steve had no idea what he was going to do with 600,000 dollars (he had no idea what he was going to do with - give him a minute - 540,000 dollars)).

He left the Starbucks feeling… strange. Yeah, no, there was no other word for it.

He was used to leaving cons feeling less than a hundred percent, sometimes with a couple bruises, sometimes on a high, but he’s never started a con like this.

It’s going to be a long four days.

-

He loved Comic Con, he really did, all of them and all of it. So many dudebros had a huge Thing against movie/show panels and the actors because of the fangirls and because they thought that they ‘weren’t real geeks’ but Steve didn’t really mind, a lot of them were pretty nice and some of them even bought his clothes, but Tom Holland groupies were another species altogether, fucking hell, the man wasn’t that hot and all he’d done was a supporting role in The Flash but…

He loved Comic Con, but it exhausted him, he was falling asleep almost as soon as he sat on his hotel bed, despite the AC/DC that was surrounding him, shaking the wall-art, that he could practically see the sound waves of, but he’d promised Bucky that he’d call him at the end of the day, so he pulled out his phone, put it on charge, called him and put it on speaker so he could get ready for bed. Bucky picked up on the second ring.

“Hey baby,” Bucky said, warmly, a smile evident in his voice. Steve flopped into bed, leaning against the headboard, he mumbled, “Hey Buck, miss y’,” through a yawn, smiling when Bucky laughed. “I missed you too, baby, you tired?” he teased. “Nah,” Steve said, through another yawn, sliding down the headboard, slipping his eyes shut.

He fell asleep 0.2 seconds later.

[sonderlivra]

Maybe some EreMika fluff at the ocean? :00

First of all, thank you so much for this prompt, anon! Second of all, I am so sorry for the delay, I think it’ll be explained when you read the HUMONGOUS block of text that my brain spewed for this amazing little prompt…

Warnings: Swearing, a lot of snark. Really, like an insane amount of it.

Modern AU

Beach Day

I’m going to die. This is at least the tenth time my mind has spewed this thought into my consciousness and this is the tenth time that I’m kinda maybe agreeing.

I am going to die. And I totally blame my murderous best friend, Eren Jaeger.

To be fair, I am as culpable as him in causing the various series of events that will soon culminate in my probable death. And while Eren’s astonishing single-mindedness goes in his favour, I have nothing to fall back on, nothing to blame. I am what I think, and I have disgraced my intellect and my “formidable grey cells”, all because I am a stupid, hormonal teenager.

My apologies to the late Agatha Christie. I have failed her oh so miserably.

“C’mon, Armin! What’re you waiting for!”

“I’m gonna die,” I moan softly.

“Armin,” a calm voice mutters next to me, “stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” I snap. “That thing is a death machine!”

Mikasa, my other, more rational best friend, sighs. “Not if Eren isn’t driving it.”

“But you haven’t driven it before, either!”

She manages to cast a dark look at me in the brilliance of a very sunny day. “Do you doubt my driving skills?”

Even though I’m sweating from the heat, her look makes me shudder. Damn. “No,” I say meekly.

“Then let’s go.” She checks the straps of my life-saver, more for my benefit than hers, I think gratefully, and leads me to the edge of the water. And yet, I can’t help the panicking, screaming thoughts in my head. This is all my fault. All on me, for goading Eren and keeping the wondrous excitement for the ocean alive through our entire childhood.

See, this is our first time at the beach, and we’ve never seen the ocean before. We grew up in a small town, nestled in hills far, far away from the vibrant seaside city called Trost, where we started college like a week ago. Growing up, our families managed to feed, clothe and educate us as well as they could, but not much else. Going to the seaside felt like a distant dream, a fairy tale. Hell, even leaving Shiganshina was a big deal. But now, thanks to scholarships and an insane amount of penny-pinching and overtime, the three of us finally found ourselves in the long-sought magical land called the beach.

I hate it. I mean, I love the sea, but Paradise Beach is so chock-full of tourists and “seaside activities” that you can’t take two steps without tripping over a sandcastle or a beach umbrella. It is loud, and hectic, and unsurprisingly, Eren’s made himself right at home.

And gone straight for the jet skis.

“Are you sure you kids can handle it?” Mr. Zacharias, the jet ski owner, shows his first sign of concern as Eren hops in place excitedly, splashing water everywhere.

“If we can’t, you can take it up with my uncle,” Mikasa shrugs.

“You, kid.” Mr. Zacharias turns to me, to my alarm. “You know her uncle?”

I get a vivid mental flashback of all the times I have met and been terrified of the man. I nod mutely. Mr. Zacharias scratches his goatee and gestures at Mikasa. “She anything like him?”

I swallow hard, wondering if I should lie. Then I say truthfully, “She’s exactly like him.”

I earn a sharp slap from Mikasa on my arm, but Mr. Zacharias laughs. “That’s good enough for me. Any brat of Levi’s is welcome to use it.”

“I’m not his brat,” Mikasa snarls. “Sure, kid,” Mr. Zacharias chuckles. “As long as all four of you come back in one piece I don’t really care.”

Four of us? -ah, I see he means the Super Fast Vehicle of Awful Death.

“You ready?” Eren grins at me as Mr. Zacharias gives Mikasa some final instructions.

“No,” I say frankly.

“Come on, Armin,” Eren says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “We’re all kickass at swimming.”

“In a pond. Or a river. With shallow currents.”

“We’ve got life vests.”

“It’s the ocean.”

“It’s low tide.”

“It’s still the ocean.”

Eren’s hand grasps my shoulder so tightly I wince. “I won’t let you die,” he says solemnly, looking straight into my eyes.

“On that note, let’s go jet skiing.” Mikasa deadpans behind us. Eren laughs, louder than necessary. I wonder if he’s feeling nervous too.

Mikasa grabs the handlebars, looks over the minimal controls, then glances back at us with a frown. “Armin’s in the middle.”

Eren, who already has one hand on her waist, frowns, too. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to die,” I say shortly and cut in front of him, straddling the seat behind Mikasa. Eren climbs on behind me in the next moment, unnaturally silent. Years of being his best friend and conspirator leaves my Spidey senses tingling.

Something is up with Eren.

If I’m being honest,, something has been up with him for a while. How long exactly, I don’t know. I have definitely noticed it since we moved into our co-ed dorms a week ago. As to what exactly is different about him… It’s difficult to put into words. A strange look here, an unexpected word there, a sudden silence or two where he’d ignore both me and Mikasa… I want to help, and I know she does too, but I don’t think either of us knows where to start. This beach day was supposed to help, but now, as I feel Eren’s loose grasp on my shoulder, I’m not so sure it’s helping at all.

But then everything is lost to me in the next moment when Mikasa revs up the machine, and then we are off.

*

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Eren’s asked this question four times already and it’s getting on my nerves.

“I’m fine. I just want to chill for a bit.”

“You sure?”

“Eren, go play in the sea and leave me the fuck alone,” I snap.

Eren snaps his mouth shut and again I see a glimmer of something in his eyes. He had the same look just before we set off on that disastrous jet ski ride.

Mikasa had been a master at it, unsurprisingly. The number of times she had grabbed her uncle’s motorcycle back at home had guaranteed her an innate understanding of driving Fast Vehicles of Awful Death. I, however, did not have any such innate skill. For the first time in my life I wished I was on her motorcycle instead.

She is currently lying back on her towel which is next to mine, watching the people on the beach. “He means well,” she murmurs, her gaze following Eren’s form bob in and out of the ocean.

I sigh. “I know. I’ll apologize.”

She nods curtly. “You do that. Something seems to be bothering him.”

“You noticed it too?” I lean on my elbow and turn to her. She nods again. “I always notice.”

I watch her watching him, and suddenly, something clicks in my mind.

“Are you okay, Mikasa?” I ask her.

She turns to me. “Me? I’m not the one who threw up in the ocean.”

“Okay, I thought we agreed to never discuss that?”

A small smile appears on her face as she turns away again. “Oops.”

We are distracted in that moment by Eren, who jogs up to us, dripping seawater everywhere.

“Hey Miks,” he grins. “The water’s amazing. You should totally go for a swim.”

Mikasa weirdly enough glances at me. “Maybe later,” she mutters.

Eren’s smile slips off his face and there is that something in Eren’s eyes again. “You two are fucking boring,” he grumbles and ambles away.

I can see the flush of hurt on Mikasa’s cheeks, and that is the point when I realise I’ve had enough. I rise to my feet, unsteady in the sand, and follow Eren.

“Eren, hey! Wait up!” I try to run to him but the damn sand is slowing me down. By the time I catch up to him I’m already panting slightly. I hate this beach.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I wheeze immediately. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Eren’s eyes are still dark and I am suddenly aware that he is angry. “Okay.”

“Eren, really. I’m sorry I’m ruining this trip for you,” I continue, feeling more and more awful.

“Yeah, well, it’s too late now, isn’t it.” He makes to walk away again but I grab his hand. “Eren, come on, I said I’m sorry. Let’s all do something together. What do you want to do next?”

Eren yanks away his hand. “The fuck does it matter. You two do your thing together.”

I grasp his hand again. “No, but we-”

“I don’t need your fucking pity. Let go, Armin.”

I gape at him. “Pity? We’re not-”

“I said, let go of me!” Eren shoves me and I stumble onto my knees.

“Eren!” I hear Mikasa’s shout closer than I expected and Eren stiffens up. “What are you doing?” She demands as soon as she is by my side, helping me up.

“Oh look who’s here to rescue you,” he drawls. “Time for me to leave.”

This time it is Mikasa who grabs his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Eren pulls his hand away again. “Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” He jabs a finger at her and if she hadn’t stepped back he’d have poked her right in the chest. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you two really think I’m that stupid?”

Mikasa’s frown deepens. “Eren, what’re you-”

“But you know what, maybe I’ve overestimated you guys. I mean, you’re the ones that are fucking stupid enough to think you can hide it from me.” Eren’s voice is a cruel snarl. “It figures. If you paid any attention at all apart from making gooey eyes at each other, maybe you wouldn’t have underestimated me like the fucking idiots that you are.”

Wait what?

“What.” Mikasa and I say at the same time.

“Don’t pretend, I know-”

“Eren.” Mikasa, always quick to react, always the brave one, manages to speak first. “Do you think Armin and I are going out together?”

Eren crosses his arms and throws us a look which is eloquent enough by itself. “Duh,” it tells us.

Before I can respond in any way, Mikasa blurts, “Wait just one second. I thought you and Armin were together?”

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

It is now Eren’s turn for a jawdrop. I suddenly feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, like this is something happening to someone else. This is not me. This is not my life. These two idiots cannot be my two bestest friends in the world. I meet their stupefied looks with one of my own, the shouts and the noise of the beach seeming far, far away, when it really, properly hits me.

Eren is still dumbstruck by shock, and Mikasa is also always the stoic one, so it is me who breaks first.

It starts with a snort. Then a giggle. Then I am laughing so much I am doubled over in pain, clutching my stomach.

When I can look at their faces again, it nearly sends me over the edge of hysteria again. Eren looks like a puppy whose tail has been stepped on and Mikasa’s face is a careful frozen mask.

“Oh my god,” I wheeze, wiping tears from my eyes, “oh my fucking god. Guys.” I smirk up at them. “I’m flattered, really I am, that you think I’m so irresistibly attractive. But let me just put this out there, once and for all.” I place each of my hands on their backs. “I love you. Both of you. Equally.” I pause to emphasise my next word. “Platonically.”

Identical sheepish looks appear on their faces and something else clicks in my brain.

“As for you guys, they say communication is the most important aspect of a relationship. So stop being these sad, pining, clueless idiots and communicate.” I see the flush creeping up Mikasa’s face and how Eren seems unable to meet her gaze anymore. My next action is immediate, instinctual.

I push them forward so abruptly their foreheads knock together and I command them, “Now, kiss.”

Then, with a beatific smile, I skip away, blissfully ignoring their shouts and cursing. They’ll thank me later.

*

Okay, I take it back. I don’t hate this beach, not really. The tourists are thinning out and the sun is setting over the water and turning the entire view into a breathtakingly varied palette of colours.

I could get used to this.

The next moment, I am knocked over by a veritable mass of muscle and bones and for a split moment I think my day of reckoning has come. Then I recognise the limbs entangled with my own and the breathless laughs sounding in my ears.

“Guys!” I gasp shrilly, “what the fuck-”

Eren silences me with a loud, smack of a kiss on my cheek. “We love you too,” he grins, and Mikasa follows with an equally fervent kiss on my other cheek and adds, “Very much.”

“Ugh. Get off me, weirdos.”

They laugh but comply and pull me up with them. I have already packed up our meagre beach supplies and so we begin to make our way to the bus stop, where we have to take the last bus back to the University. Eren and Mikasa walk ahead of me and when I see how easily their hands twine together, a smile begins to form on my face.

Then they pause, turn to look at me, and just as easily slip their joined hands over my back, leading me ahead in the middle of their warm embrace. My smile widens.

I could definitely get used to this.

A/N: Soooo yeah. Sorry, not a lot of Eremika, but I just adore the interactions between these three and I’ve just missed writing them together! Plus, I enjoyed writing Armin’s POV so much this story basically wrote itself, I had none of this planned.

I’m sorry if you were expecting cute beachside cuddles. I gave you a bulldozed Armin instead, yaye!

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this insanely long story!

[negasonicteenagemess]

1-800-Spidey Pt.1 || Peter Parker Imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1464 words

Request from anon:  can you do a Peter Parker/ Spider-man au where the main character (other than peter) is Tony’s daughter and she falls in love with Spider-Man but Tony doesn’t approve???? And she finds out about Peter being Spidey somehow? If that makes any sense,,

No Homecoming Spoilers

Masterlist

“Y/N Stark, you better get to bed right now, young lady. It’s a school night.” Her father Tony Stark shouted through an inner com that reached through the entire house. Y/N gazed at the person in front of her, Spider-Man, and gave him an apologetic look. She stood up off of the floor and went to the monitor that was embedded in her bedroom wall. 

She pressed a button on the screen and began to speak, “Yeah, sorry dad. I was just,” she said while scratching the back of her neck, still staring at the masked hero, “on the phone with a friend, finishing homework. The teachers at Midtown don’t exactly go easy on the young geniuses that go there.” Y/N forced a chuckle to make the story sound believable.

She could here Tony sigh, “Alright just finish what you’re doing, and try to keep your voice down, I need my beauty sleep too. G'night my lovely daughter.”

Y/N smiled and pressed the button again, “I’m sorry, I’ll try to be quiet. Good night my lovely father.” She removed her finger from the screen, and not hearing another reply, moved to the middle of her room to sit with her friend.

Y/N met Spider-Man after the whole Captain america versus Iron Man thing. Since he was on her father’s side, she was able to meet him. She didn’t know who he was, respecting his privacy,and she was kind of glad she didn’t know. Glad that she didn’t have to carry the burden of another superhero’s secret identity.

The whole ordeal happened months ago and Spider-Man made sure to visit her at least three times a week.  He didn’t realize that Y/N had slowly started to fall in love with him. He makes her smile, just from being him. Visiting her all of the time made her smile, it was a sign that she actually meant something to him. She doesn’t care what he looks like (but he told her he was a teenager), his personality was enough to captivate her.

“Sorry about that, you know how my dad has owl ears.” She joked, making Spidey chuckle. He shook his head, watching as she took a seat on the floor in front of him. “Don’t apologize, it was my fault that I’m funny enough to make you laugh.” He joked back as he watched the beautiful girl before him.

“Well,” She started dramatically, “Your science puns are pretty hilarious.”

For the next couple of hours, they were just sitting there, cracking jokes and telling stories like they had known each other their entire lives. Y/N took out her phone and saw that it was two thirty in the morning. “I hate to break it to you Spidey, but it’s gotten really late. Don’t you have a city to protect?” She asked rhetorically with a small smile on her face.

He looked outside her window, “I kinda don’t want to leave. I like talking to you.” This made her blush.

“You could always stay here if you’d like.” She told him flirtatiously, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“I would if I could but, someone’s gotta protect the city,” he stood up letting out a sigh, Y/N followed his movement as well. Y/N nodded her head in understanding, “Text me soon, ya?” A few weeks after they met, Spider-Man seemed it would be necessary to have her phone number in case she was ever ‘in danger’ but she knew it was just an excuse to get her number.

He nodded his head and shot a web out of her window. “Of course. Sadly I have to go but, I’ll visit soon. I promise.” He gripped the webbing and jumped out of the window, leaving her alone in her bedroom.

Y/N stood there for a minute, thinking about everything they had talked about in the time that had passed. When she moved to shut her bedroom window, she was met with the mask of Spider-Man. “I almost forgot something,” He said as he hung upside down from a web that was sticking to the top of her house. “Wha-” Before she could finish her sentence, Spider-Man quickly pulled his mask down just below his nose, gripping his webs with just his feet, he placed his hands on her cheeks and his lips upon hers.

Her lips felt soft against his rough ones, and her hands felt warm along his biceps. The kiss was short yet passionate as their lips moved in sync. He pulled his lips away from hers, even though he wanted them to stay there forever, and pulled his mask back down onto his face. He dropped from the webbing he held onto, shooting them towards another building before swinging away without saying a word. Y/N smiled as she pulled down the window, closing her curtains and heading off to bed.

She woke up the next morning with a short good morning text from Spidey that said, do you have 11 protons? Cause your sodium fine. She loved getting texts like this from him. The pun made her smile as she got ready to go to school.

School was the same as usual, boring but filled with texts from Spidey while in class that said things like, ‘how much room is needed for fungi to grow? as mushroom as possible.’ There were a couple times that day where Y/N laughed while all the students in the room were silent, and giving her strange looks but, she loved it.

It was now the end of the day and Y/N had English. A few days ago her teacher had told the students that they were doing a project that reacquired partners. She walked into her last class and saw that all of the desks had names. She found her name and saw that she was sitting next to Peter Parker.

Y/N had known Peter for years but the two had only talked a handful of times. At least she wasn’t stuck with someone she didn’t know. She sat there waiting, and when Peter walked through the room she smiled. “Peter,” She said kindly, waving her hand for him to come over. He walked over to her and saw his name on the desk next to her. He was slightly shocked.

“Hey, Y/N.” He said returning the smile. He sat down on the desk chair cautiously due to the shock.

The bell rang indicating that the class had started. Their teacher explained that if we didn’t finish the project in class, they would have to do it for homework, which made some people groan. He had suggested that their partners should swap numbers. He then explained what the project was and everyone went to work.

In this class period, Y/N didn’t get any text from Spidey, which she found strange but quickly pushed the thought into the back of her head. She checked her phone to see in she had any texts but noticed that there were five minutes left of class.

“There’s only a few minutes left of class and we are nowhere near done.” She said, dropping the pencil from her hand. Peter nodded his head understandingly, “D-do you want my number so we can finish this later?” He asked her, dropping his pencil as well to grab his back pack.

Y/N nodded her head and changed her screen to add a new contact. Peter recited his phone number without stumbling. In that moment, Peter forgot to think.  When she clicked okay button to add a new contact a message popped up on her screen. ‘Would you like to replace the contact of Spidey?’ The message read. Y/N sat there stunned, blinking her eyes a couple more times then needed. That can’t be right, was the only thought running through her head.

“Did it work? Or do I need to t-tell you my number again?” He asked as he put his notebook into his backpack. For a second, Y/N couldn’t respond but she shook her head, “No it’s uh, it’s fine.” She locked her screen and put her phone in her back pocket. She placed her belongings in her bag and jumped out of her seat when the bell rang.

“I’ll text you later, I guess.” She said rushing out of the room avoiding all eye contact before Peter could respond. When she was out of the building, she paused her steps to take in what had happened.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man. And I kissed Spider-Man.

Part Two

[lordzuuko]

You spiderman sheith au is so good! I am guessing that Shiro is Keiths man in the chair. What would happen if Shiro got in danger for helping Keith on his missions?

There are other prompts asking for a dramatic Shiro rescuing so this one will just be small scale and Shiro’s first!

[Sheith Spider-Man Homecoming AU] Part 08 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9)

Their practice for the academic decathlon just finished and Keith and Shiro were on their way home. By the time they reached the streets, Keith abruptly stopped in his tracks.

“My spidey sense is tingling,” he whispered and slowly looked at Shiro.

“Your what?” Shiro felt like laughing at how funny that sentence was but decided to restrain himself as Keith clearly wasn’t laughing. This was serious.

“It’s a thing that warns me when there’s danger,” he explained and his eyes widened as he quickly grabbed Shiro by the chest just in time for them to avoid being crushed by a truck. 

The truck crashed into the tailor shop both boys were just standing in front from a few seconds ago. Shiro felt so disoriented but before he could collect himself, Keith was already trying to help the driver out of the truck.

“Sir, are you alright?” Keith asked in worry as he dragged the man out of danger. “What happened?”

“I-I lost control of the wheel when some asshole drove past me. I reckon it was a hijacked car too,” the driver answered, a hand on his head.

The next thing that happened, Shiro already anticipated. Keith turned to him and without saying a word, his boyfriend nodded and he nodded back in understanding. 

“I have my laptop with me,” Shiro patted his backpack. “As soon as you go online, I’ll be with you.” 

“You’re the best. Be back in a jiffy.” Keith pulled him into a hug and then he ran towards an alley to spider-up. 

Shiro walked to the nearest cafe to grab a table in a secluded corner, away from the public’s eye. He pulled out his laptop and put on his earpiece. As soon as his laptop turned on, a window of Keith’s live feed popped up.

“Hacker voice. I’m in,” Shiro said, feeling excited. They haven’t done this outside of their “headquarters” so the thrill was extremely through the roofs.

“You are such a dork!” Keith laughed as he swung from building to building. “You got the location on the bad guy, babe?”

Babe. Keith just called him “babe” and Shiro wanted to die. But he had no time for that. Right now, he had to hack into government sites to get a live feed on the police chase. 

“Altea Street, third block,” Shiro informed. “He’s going at 120 kilometers per hour. Three police cars on his tail and they are not happy campers.”

“Got it!” 

The police were slower compared to how fast Keith was. The view from Keith’s eyes was exhilarating. To think he get to see it too was mind blowing. It was beautiful and Shiro couldn’t honestly blame Keith for loving being in the red and blue suit considering he get to do all of these things. Sometimes Shiro wish he could too but sadly, the spider that bit his boyfriend was dead. They would’ve been such a great Spider couple. 

Shiro chuckled but he was pulled out of his fantasy world when suddenly the screen turned black. He panicked as he could no longer hear Keith either. The last thing Shiro saw was Keith being on top of the hijacked car while shouting “Hey, Mr. Criminal! Nice car!”

“Keith? Keith?!” He called out a little louder. “Keith, are you there?!”

No response. 

“Shit,” he cursed as he closed his laptop and placed it in his bag. He quickly ran out of the cafe and hailed a taxi to Keith’s last location. He tried calling Keith’s number that was connected to the suit but no answer. 

As soon as he got out of the car, he looked around and Keith was nowhere in sight. He asked the people around if they’ve seen Spider-Man at all. Only one kid answered him, pointing towards the bridge. 

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He saw Keith’s lifeless body by the river and his eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no. no.” The adrenaline rush was getting into him as he quickly climbed up the bridge. “Keith! Hang in there!”

“Hey, you!” Someone shouted and if Shiro had to look back right at this moment, this was the one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Out of reflex, he turned his head towards the voice. Everything happened too fast. The next thing he knew, a bullet was shot towards him. Someone was screaming “No!” Then he saw Keith aiming his webshooter towards his chest, the web pushing him out of the way just in time for the bullet to graze the bridge of his nose. 

Shiro stumbled backwards, losing his balance. However, the guy who shot him was already walking forward, his gun still aimed at him.

“How dare you touch him!” Someone shouted and Shiro turned his head to see Keith climbing up the bridge, looking like he was ready to commit murder. The eyes on Keith’s Spider-Man mask turned completely black with a tiny red dot in the middle on each side.

Oh god. Shiro knew what that meant. 

The Instant Kill Mode.