#take the engagement mj had but make it harry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marsrogers · 2 years ago

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love me again (funeral blues pt. 2) | tom holland’s peter parker x stark! reader (18+)

warnings: mentions of death, underage drinking/drug use, angst, harry osborn being an asshole, oral (f-receiving), handjobs, fingering, sex (piv), female orgasm, male orgasm, swearing

synopsis: Unable to come to terms with Peter’s rejection, you attend a party at Harry’s to take your mind off of things. Things only get worst...until they get better.

word count: 10.8k

note: this is a second part to this imagine! it makes sense to read this after reading the first part.

A/N: Apologies for the incredibly delayed update; life has inhibited me from writing as frequently as I wish I could. As for the important details of the imagine, I thought it would be fun to pair Gwen and MJ together, as it’s something I’ve never seen done before but seems fitting. Additionally, I have no face claims in mind for Gwen nor the other characters I made up, such as Grace and the other Midtown High girls. That being said: enjoy!

It’s been two weeks since your father’s funeral, and all you’ve done since the memorial is alternate between sleeping on your left and right sides, catch up on episodes of Criminal Minds, eat, and shower. To say that getting out of bed was a chore would be an understatement, and the lax attitude that your school had about your return wasn’t helping to pull you out of your funk. Then again, you suppose that your school was in no position to rush you back, seeing as to how your father had resurrected the missing half of the population. Plus, you’re sure that your dad’s generous donation a few years back that doubled the size of Midtown has something to do with their laissez-faire attitude.

It’s currently 9:30 am on a Saturday, and you’re not even sure why you’re up this early. This is undoubtedly the earliest you’ve risen from your slumber in weeks, and you can’t deny that it feels good to have somewhat of a regimented schedule. You’re even contemplating exiting your room to have breakfast with your stepmother and sister. Key word is almost. You try to push away the desire to emerge from solitary confinement, but it’s persistent. Something is encouraging you to escape from the limits of your room. So, a little less than an hour after waking, you find yourself downstairs, slumped over your kitchen island with a bowl of cereal in your hands.

Pepper screeches when she comes down the stairs and sees you sitting in the kitchen.

“Morning,” you mumble through a mouthful of cereal.

She screeches and jumps in place, her right palm flying to clutch her heart. “Jesus, Y/N—you scared me. I didn’t expect you to be up this early. Frankly, I didn’t expect you to come out of your room today at all.” The last part she mutters, but your acute sense of hearing allows you to take in her words.

You shrug in between, placing a mouthful of cereal into your mouth. “Couldn’t stay in there forever.”

She gives you a nod of affirmation, a sudden smile beginning to find its way to her face. She makes her way over to you, a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her possession. Coming to stand beside you, her hand gently finds its way into your hair and strokes it softly. From your peripheral, you catch the way her engagement ring sparkles in the light of the kitchen window. You suddenly feel sick.

“How’re you doing today?” She questions soothingly.

“I mean, I waited, like, fifteen minutes after waking up before I started crying, so progress, I guess?” You joke. Pepper frowns, continuing to card her fingers through your hair.

Your words trigger an instant change in her demeanor. She swallows thickly. “I just want you to be okay, Y/N.”

“I will be.” Your answer surprises you. You offer it without thinking about whether or not you actually mean it. You’re not really sure if you do.

She offers another sad smile. “I know, I know.” Her response brings about an awkward silence among you two.

You wait a few seconds before you stand up and decide to break the quietness. “Okay, I’m going to go back to my room.”

“No, no, please don’t leave,” she implores. You can see the sadness and loneliness in her eyes, which makes you swallow nervously. “This is the first time you’ve been out of your room fully in days. I don’t want the cycle to continue repeating itself. Why don’t you invite Gwen over?”

The Gwen in question was your best friend in the entire world, Gwen Stacy, and while you’d normally be inclined to spend any available time you had with her, the prospect of her inducing a trauma dumping session scared you. But Gwen kept you grounded and forced you to be pragmatic during the times when you wanted to be the most impulsive. She’d been there for you through breakups, traumatic missions, and death. And you’d been there for her through her similar calamities: shitty partners, overbearing parents, and identity crises. You knew that asking her to come over to spend the day with you would be enjoyable, but you just didn’t know if you were up to it yet.

You swirl the remnants of milk and tiny pieces of cereal around in your ceramic bowl, trying to decide whether or not you should oblige Pepper. She stares at you expectantly, hoping to coax a favorable answer out of you.

“Okay,” you ultimately surrender. “Fine.”

Pepper’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, and she beams at you. “It’s not for me, it’s for you. It’ll be good.”

So, you punch Gwen’s name into your smartphone and type out a message to her, practically begging her to come over. Instead of retreating to your room, you opt to spend time with Morgan for the first time in days. She’d forced you to watch Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir with her, and while you’d initially been slightly agitated about it, you secretly enjoyed the show.

You toggle back and forth between paying attention to the TV and surfing through various applications on your phone. You await Gwen’s response in giddy anticipation, hoping she’s not too busy to spend time with you.

She replies about half an hour after you text her, and you can feel her excitement oozing through the phone. Her answer is a cheery one, typical of Gwen. You and she were opposites in that regard. Where she always took to finding the positives in every situation, you were a glass-half-empty kind of girl. You had gotten a little better at shaking that pessimism, but that change had occurred when things were different. The person you were now—the things you’d experienced recently—made you think it would be impossible to ever be the kind of happy Gwen was. You’d always envied her for that quality. Now more than ever.

When Gwen arrives at your house, it’s almost noon. You hadn’t moved from your place on the living room couch, and while Pepper would’ve normally scolded you for being dormant in one spot for so long, you could tell how glad she was to see you out of your room.

“Be right back, Morgana,” you ruffle your sister’s hair, then pull off the blankets you’d placed on your body.

Without a glance backward at you, she gives you a thumbs up. You walk over to the front door, open it, and come face to face with your best friend.

“Hey, girlie,” she offers you a sympathetic smile. You want to roll your eyes because how could your best friend be staring at you with as much pity as everyone else? “How are you?” She pulls you in for a hug, and you inhale the calming scent of her jasmine perfume and relax. Gwen is a perpetual presence of calm in your life, and when you give yourself a second to breathe, you observe how your heart rate slows down at the sight of her. You remind yourself that she cares about you, just as everyone who has been doting on you does.

“I’m okay,” you answer honestly, stepping aside to usher her inside your home. “I’ve been worse. I’ve been better.”

She nods understandingly, stepping inside the foyer of your home. “I get it.”

“I’m glad you’re here, though,” you admit. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too,” she agrees. “You look good, Y/N/N.”

“I’m hanging in there,” you let out a shaky sigh. “Doing the best I can.”

“I’m glad you texted me,” Gwen links her arm with yours, leading you to your original spot on the couch. “If you had waited any longer, I would’ve come over uninvited.”

Morgan quickly pulls her attention away from the television screen, and her eyes light up at the sight of your best friend. “Gwen!” She squeals, finding her way into Gwen’s arms. Despite only meeting the blonde a few weeks ago, she’d automatically gravitated towards her. You couldn’t be surprised, though, as Gwen was indeed a real-life princess.

She kisses your sister on her forehead. “Hey, Morgan, how are you, babe?”

“Good, because Y/N is spending time with me for once,” she replies absentmindedly, attention turned back to the television.

You let out a sigh. You usually would’ve snapped at Morgan for such an inflammatory response, but you know that what she’s saying is true. You realize that you hadn’t been there for the first five years of her life, which was entirely out of your hands. But now that you had the opportunity to connect with your little sister, the grief you felt completely inhibited you from doing so. You had to give yourself some credit for getting out of bed today, though.

“I’ll be better, Morgan, I will,” you promise. “I’m sorry.” You mumble the last part, feeling the tears start to sting your eyes.

Gwen instantly notices your change in demeanor and opts to change the subject. “So, Morgan, what are we watching?”

Your sister launches into a rant about her show of choice, but you tune her out, your mind automatically wandering to the person it always wanders to: your father. The aching pain in your chest for your father had managed to subside over the last few days, but unfortunately, it had been replaced with an ache for someone else: Peter. On the day of the funeral, you’d spent the subsequent hours after your incident with said teen superhero crying into Gwen’s arms on your bathroom floor. By the time Pepper had found you, almost everyone had already left your home. She’d observed your mascara-stained cheeks and red eyes and chalked it up to your mourning. In a way, she was right, but not about the person you were grieving. You weren’t sure how you’d even explain the whole Peter situation to her. You hoped it would resolve itself before you had to.

A few hours more of monotonous cartoon watching passed until Pepper relieved you, making up an excuse about you and Gwen having homework to do. The reality was that you hadn’t touched your homework in weeks. At this point, you barely cared if your status as valedictorian held up. You’d find it in you to worry about it at some other time.

When you and Gwen are finally alone in your bedroom, you collapse on your bed, and she takes a seat on the spinning chair at your desk. You turn on some Taylor Swift music as background noise while you and Gwen spend most of your time scrolling through your phone.

“I completely forgot that Harry was throwing a party tonight,” Gwen states after some time has gone by, typing something into her phone.

At the mention of a party, you prop yourself up in your bed. You may have been fighting a seemingly incurable case of insomnia, but it wasn’t strong enough for you to miss a social gathering. You were indeed your father’s daughter in that sense. “Party?”

“Shit, I totally should’ve mentioned something to you, but Harry told me that he already texted you,” she apologizes. “I didn’t think you’d be up to it. I’ll just hang around with you and tell him we’ll see him soon.”

You think back and try to remember receiving a text about a party from your aforementioned friend. Your memory settles on a message that you’d received a few days ago and absentmindedly replied to with a “thanks.” Frankly, it took a lot for you to respond to Gwen's messages, let alone anyone else.

“Fuck it, let’s go,” you proposition your best friend. “It’ll be fun. I need to get out of the house anyway.”

Your best friend regards you cautiously, examining your appearance. “You sure? Even Harry didn’t think you’d want to go. He texted me, like, so many times asking if I thought you were going to make it. I swear to God he even offered to reschedule it so that you could come. I bet he’s going to die if you do.”

Your stomach drops at Gwen’s implication. There was only one boy’s opinion that you cared about, and he didn’t even want to give you the time of day anymore. Frankly, you were unsure if he’d ever give it to you again.

“Yeah, I want to. I’ve been cooped up in this house for too damn long. Besides, I think this might be the only time that Pepper willingly and eagerly lets me go to a party,” you hum.

Gwen lets out an overjoyed shriek, and you wince. And while you’re more than eager for a change of scenery to clear your head, a larger portion of you hopes that a certain someone would swallow his pride and push away his contempt for you and Harry and possibly make a guest appearance at Harry’s party. You wish more than anything.

_____

It had taken practically three hours of preparation—mental and physical—until you left your house.

You let Gwen borrow a cute pale green mini dress purchased from a Marc Jacobs pop-up shop before the Blip. It brought out her eyes and accentuated her long legs. You knew her parents would’ve had a heart attack if they saw her dressed the way she was, complete with bright red lipstick and intricately drawn-on eyeliner.

You opt for a dress of the same style—a baby pink Chanel one that barely reached the tops of your thighs. You had a vague (salient) memory of Peter complimenting you in that dress some time ago, but you convinced yourself that that was not at all the reason why you’d chosen it for the party. Besides, you weren’t even sure if he was going. He wasn’t a partier and there was the very obvious issue of it being at the house of his mortal enemy, but you still had some hope!

Pepper had generously driven you to the party, a ride mainly consisting of her and Gwen chatting about arbitrary things. You tuned everything out, too busy searching for every strategy in your arsenal to assuage your budding anxiety.

When your stepmother finally pulls up in front of Harry’s apartment complex, you let out an audibly nervous sigh. Gwen swivels in her seat to examine you, then pulls your hand into hers.

“You’re okay,” she squeezes your hand. “This is supposed to be fun, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a tiny nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

She nudges you towards the car door. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

“Make smart decisions!” Pepper calls after you as you exit. You roll your eyes at her statement and keep your hand intertwined with Gwen’s as she leads you towards the apartment complex’s main entrance.

The elevator ride upstairs to Harry’s penthouse apartment is quiet. You could cut the tension with a knife. Gwen, ever the peacekeeper, does her best to mitigate it.

“This is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” she jokes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss the rowdy Y/N.”

You gnaw at your thumbnail. “I’m nervous, so nervous. I’m not even sure for what if I’m being completely honest.”

“If he’s here, you take it one step at a time. I guarantee you he’s not going to ignore you completely; he has a heart,” Gwen answers. She’d done a pretty good job not bringing up Peter thus far, but she knew you well enough to understand that most of your nerves were a result of wondering whether or not he would be making an appearance tonight.

You continue to chew on the tip of your thumb. “Mhmm.”

With a ding, the elevator stops directly inside the Osborn’s apartment. The party is clearly in full swing, with guests in every possible crevice. You let your eyes wander to Betty and Ned, who are chatting amiably. You nudge Gwen, and she gives you a smirk, her reaction a tacit affirmation of what’s budding between said duo. You take in a few other familiar faces but no one of genuine interest.

Stepping out into the foyer, you link arms with Gwen as you familiarize yourself with your environment. It’d been over five years since you’d been at Harry’s, and while you remember some things, the lack of time you had spent at his house before the Blip meant that you didn’t exactly know where you were going.

The space was beautiful, though, decorated with expensive furniture and rare paintings and equipped with enough rooms for at least two families to reside. It reminded you a lot of your apartment, and now, you and Harry had another thing in common: no father around to make the home feel a little less large. Harry’s situation was much different than yours as his father chose to be absent, and yours had, well, died, but it was something that you figured he could empathize with you on in some capacity.

Walking through the halls of the penthouse and settling in the kitchen, you let your eyes rest on a picture hanging from the wall of Harry in his Midtown High lacrosse uniform, the smile he wears so cocky and confident that it’s almost blinding. Ever the New York socialite. It makes you giggle.

“Wonder where Harry is,” you ponder.

When you receive no response from Gwen, you glance over at her. “God, I didn't think MJ would be here.” You follow Gwen’s eyes to where MJ sits on a stool at the kitchen island, head resting on her palm as she scrolls through her phone. The blonde gapes at her crush, and you giggle at her frazzled reaction. It gives you some comfort to see that you aren’t the only one nervous to see someone you have feelings for. Yeah, you want what’s happening between you and Peter to work out, but Gwen deserves happiness more than anyone. She’d been subject to some shitty romantic partners, but MJ had the capacity to change Gwen’s perception of love. She had already started doing that.

“Go talk to her, loser,” you hip-butt her.

Gwen’s emerald eyes light up at your encouragement. “You sure? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be totally fine,” you assure her. That’s maybe 50% true, but you don’t want to give Gwen any more reasons to worry about you. Plus, you’re not a child and don’t need a babysitter. Most of the time.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you later,” she squeezes your shoulder. “Keep me updated, Y/N, please.”

You give her a nod, your lips turning up into a smile. “Make smart decisions.”

Gwen giggles at how you mock your stepmom, then skips toward MJ, her curled blonde hair bouncing with each step she takes.

Distracted by your friend and her crush, you miss entirely the person approaching you from behind.

“Holy shit, you’re here,” a familiar male voice observes. “I didn’t think—oh my God, this is like the best surprise ever.” Your question about where the party's host was had finally been answered.

You whip around to face Harry, and you grin at him, as he pulls you into his arms. “Shit, Harry, didn’t think I’d get this reaction from you. Am I that important?”

“I’m so excited to see you,” he acknowledges. “And yeah, you’re pretty much the life of the party. You know that. Come with me.” And with that, he’s pulling you by your arm into another part of the house. You end up in the living room, where there are even more people than there were scattered throughout the house.

“Thank you for that compliment. I know the party was incredibly dull without me, but now I’m here, and you can officially start to enjoy yourself,” you tease. Harry rolls his eyes playfully and continues leading you on your original path.

You set eyes on more familiar faces. Some people from your classes that you’ve interacted with a few times here and there. Others are strangers, while some others look vaguely familiar.

“Everyone, look who decided to make an appearance!” Harry bellows, grabbing your hand and lifting it above your head to draw attention to you. People’s conversations halt as they stop to listen to Harry. “The one, the only, Y/N Stark!”

The room is silent for a good few seconds, people staring you up and down and whispering to their friends as the realization of who you are—or rather who your father is—sets in.

A few more seconds go by until you decide to break the awkward silence. “Well, what are you all staring at me for?” You laugh awkwardly. “Isn’t this supposed to be a party?!”

That’s all it takes for the crowd of moronic teenagers to erupt into raucous screams.

“You were right,” Harry calls to you. “You really are the life of the party.” You laugh awkwardly. Maybe this party wasn’t such a great idea after all?

_____

You end up having more drinks than you probably should have. When your head starts to pound, and the ceiling spins above you, you decide it’s time to slow down. You were pretty sure Harry was crossfaded, as he was much more talkative (and flirty) than usual—telltale signs that he wasn’t sober. You knew his vices of choice were weed and sometimes—only sometimes— coke, but he had sworn that he had kicked that habit. You weren’t sure what he was on tonight, but you were positive it was a combination of at least two substances.

So after stumbling with him back into the living room, tripping over your platform Versace heels a few times, and almost knocking over a few vases, you finally come to sit on a vacant couch.

“So, how’d you get your dad to agree to this?” You gesture around the room.

“Told him I was only having a few people over. He won’t know the difference, and either way, he’s halfway around the world,” he answers. “Plus, it’s not like he gives a shit about me anyway.”

“At least your dad’s alive,” you sigh (somewhat dramatically, you might add), and collapse on the couch behind you, your dress riding up slightly in the process. You observe how Harry’s eyes flicker over towards the tops of your newly exposed thighs, and while the attention would normally make you giddy, you feel the compulsion to pull the skirt of your dress further down your thighs.

Harry clears his throat awkwardly, but you watch as he examines you out of his peripheral vision.

“You, um, you look really nice tonight, Y/N. Like really, really, fucking pretty,” he blurts out.

“You already told me that, like, one hundred times, silly,” you giggle.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he answers awkwardly. “Just thought I’d tell you again.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between you for a few moments after the barraging of compliments that Harry paid you.

“Hey, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you finally speak up, standing up abruptly and smoothing your skirt off.

Harry’s quick to respond, standing up at almost the same time as you do. “Yeah, yeah, of course. You good?”

You force yourself to smile. “Mhmm. I’ll be back in a jiff.” You watch how Harry regards you strangely at your awkward choice of phrasing, and you cringe as you turn away from him.

You stagger towards the bathroom, and when you arrive at the one closest to the kitchen, it’s packed, even considering how large it is— filled to the brim with girls doing various things like applying makeup, or smoking, or snorting illegal substances off the marble countertop. You’d pushed past two girls making out, hands groping each other wildly, not a care in the world for the fact the others were in the bathroom, too.

Not in the mood to be overwhelmed by a gaggle of girls, you exit the room as quickly as possible and go to find another vacant bathroom. In your slightly drunken stupor, it feels like it takes forever to walk down the halls of the penthouse, and you brace yourself on the wall with the palms of your hands.

Trailing down a long hallway that’s completely uninhabited, your hand closes around every door knob you come in contact with, but each time you open a door, you fail to find a bathroom. Pouting frustratedly, you decide that if the next door you open doesn’t lead to a bathroom, you’ll give up on the whole thing and return to Harry. Plus, it wasn’t like you actually needed to use the bathroom; you just needed a breather.

Setting your sights upon one last room, you absentmindedly tug the door open. Your mouth instantly falls open as soon as you do this.

The good news about the current sight before you was that you had in fact found a bathroom. The bad news was that you had stumbled upon two people in quite a compromising situation, one of whom was the person you’d been looking for the entire night. You never would’ve imagined walking in on with a girl’s legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her fervently. They were practically dry-humping each other, and you were even sober enough to hear the tiny whimpers that she emitted.

It takes you a few seconds to process the scene that unfolds before you, and when it all finally resonates with you, you let your mouth fall open in shock. “What the fuck?”

Peter pulls away from his partner, who you finally recognize as a girl you had APUSH with during your sophomore year. You think her name is Kelly? Maybe Karen? Maybe Kristen? Even without the disdain that you currently held for her, you could objectively say that she was a bitch.

Peter’s eyes are the size of saucers, and a deep crimson blush paints his cheeks. “Y/N.”

“I can’t believe you,” you seethe. “You were rejecting me less than two weeks ago and now you’re hooking up with her.”

“I have a name,” Kendra? Kirsten? Chrysanthemum? snaps back at you, then turns to Peter, a perplexed look on her face. “She tried to get with you two weeks ago?”

“‘I have a name,’” you mock. “And he tried to get with me first. Can we talk about this outside? I don’t really want her knowing our business.”

Peter obliges you, and you make your way into the hallway together.

“I don’t really know what to say to you, Y/N,” Peter answers sheepishly.

Crossing your arms over one another you scoff. “You’ve said and done enough.”

“Y/N,” he sighs, then pauses abruptly, running an awkward hand through his hair. “After everything that happened at your dad’s funeral, I felt so shitty, we should’ve talked about us at another time. It was wrong of me to treat you that way.”

You instantly perk up at his apology, uncrossing your arms. “So what are you saying?” A large part of you is optimistic that Peter wants to try to work things out with you, but judging by his tone and disposition, you know your hopes are futile.

“I still don’t think it would be a good idea for us to be together,” he replies. “Things aren’t great right now for either of us.”

“But it’s okay for you to move on? If I would’ve walked in, like, five minutes later, you probably would’ve been fingering her,” you snap crudely.

“Who am I to tell you what to do with your life? Who are you to tell me what to do with mine? You should be able to be with whoever you want,” he replies back in the same tone.

A wicked smirk settles on your face as you analyze his words. “Oh yeah? Anyone? Well, then I guess I’ll see what Mr. Obsorn’s up to at this very moment.”

He gapes at you. “You’re being cruel.”

You pout tantalizingly. “You used to like it when I was mean to you. Now you don’t like it anymore? Strange.”

Peter’s already dark brown eyes flame so deeply that they almost turn black. “Fuck you.”

Already having turned on your heel to return back down the hallway, you let out a coquettish giggle. “Yeah, yeah, you already had your chance!”

You wait until you’re finally out of Peter’s line of vision to let the tears fall.

_____

It hadn’t taken much to convince Harry that you wanted to find yourself in some place more private. After your debacle with Peter you’d sauntered over to where he was, still situated patiently on the couch that you had both been occupying. It had only taken a few swishes of your hips, some hair tousling, and a kiss on Harry’s cheek before he had led you to his room.

You hadn’t been in his room since before the Blip when you’d been forced to work on a lab report together for AP Chemistry. Your purpose for being in his room now was clearly very different.

Within a few minutes of being alone, he’d pinned you against his bedroom door and placed his lips on yours. His hands had traveled straight to your waist, and before you knew it they were traveling even further down until they rested on your ass. The whole interaction was as lackluster as it had been the only other time you’d tried it with Harry, but you didn’t have the capacity to think straight.

He’d led you to his bed to make you more comfortable, taking note of your reaction every few seconds. You did your best to focus on the scent of his expensive cologne or how soft his hair felt as you tangled your fingers in it, or how comfortable his duvet felt underneath you, but none of this did anything to quell your nerves or, quite frankly, arouse you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers gently into your ear, moving some loose strands of hair away from your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about doing this with you again forever.”

You cringe at his admission, but once again, do your very best to suppress the apprehension that you feel. This is obviously a terrible idea, born from impulsivity, alcohol, and anger, but you can’t will yourself to stop.

You try to relax as his lips trail down from your ear to your jaw and finally to your neck, sucking tiny patterns into your skin, while his hands trail slowly underneath your dress and up your thighs. His hands are soft on your skin, but his movements are abrupt. Instead of savoring the experience, it seems as though he can’t wait to get it over with. To get you out of your clothes so that something favorable can happen.

But all you can think about is Peter. How Peter would hold you so much more tenderly, how he would paint your neck red with his kisses, and how instinctually you’d part your legs for him so he could touch you where you needed him most. How he’d trail his hands over your ribs, kiss down your stomach, and use his tongue to make you cry out his name. And it’s at that moment when you decide that you can’t do this anymore. You can no longer make stupid, capricious decisions. You can’t be with Harry in any way that’s not platonic. But most of all, you can’t be without Peter.

Mustering up the courage, you finally pull away from Harry’s kiss. “Harry, I can’t do this.” You grab his hand soothingly, hoping that this will mitigate some of the imminent hurt he’ll feel.

He regards you with concern. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“No, no, it’s not you, it’s me,” you squeeze his hand. Cliche much? “I just feel like maybe, this is not the right time to do this. We both were drinking and that makes things so much more confusing. And, like, maybe we’re rushing into this?”

You’re not prepared for the way that Harry’s expression instantly morphs from one of confusion into one of anger. “I’m confused—what are you saying? Y/N, I’ve waited for you for twelve fucking years.”

“Harry,” you caution, finally sliding out from under his grasp. You cross your legs over one another and prop yourself up a few inches away from where he sits. “I don’t understand why you’re getting so mad about this.” You knew it was better to play stupid than to try to console him and tell him that you knew full well why he was feeling what he was. It was obvious that you had led him on and clear that you’d been doing so for years. But couldn’t he at least cut you some slack, especially during this difficult time?

“I’m mad, Y/N because I’ve spent so much of my goddamn time trying to get you to like me, trying to make you realize that I’m head over fucking heels for you,” he snaps. “I don’t know how much clearer I could’ve been. Calling you every damn day to check up on you, buying you sympathy gifts, spending this entire night with you when I could’ve actually been hanging out with other people.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you hold up your hand to signal to him to pause his rambling. “You’re telling me that you did all of that, so what—so I’d suck your dick? So I’d let you go down on me? Do you realize how that sounds, Harry.”

“Stop playing dumb. You’ve known all along how I feel about you. How badly I want you,” Harry laughs bitterly. “And you completely strung me along. The flirting wasn’t fucking one-sided, Y/N.”

“I wasn’t entirely sure,” you mutter, looking down at your lap in embarrassment. “And I was just being nice.” Even you realize how much of a lie that is.

“‘You weren’t entirely sure,’ oh please, look me in the eye and tell me that. Look me in the eye and say that to me with a straight face, Y/N,” he dismisses you.

Your lip quivers, and you let out a shaky breath. “Stop it, Harry.”

“Oh, you’re about to cry, Y/N?” He taunts. “I should be the one fucking crying. You’re pathetic.”

You quickly wipe at the tears forming in your eyes. “Harry—Harry, you’re being mean.” You were pretty sure Peter had just told you the same thing a few minutes ago, but that wasn’t important right now.

“And you’re a bitch,” he states tersely. “You need to leave.”

“Harry,” you plead, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off abruptly, and your hand falls back into your lap. You can barely see through the sea of tears flowing from your eyes. “Don’t be like this.”

“Get out,” he spits.

You climb off of his bed as quickly as your legs will carry you, doing your best to remain calm. “Fuck you,” you choke out. “Every time you think about why we stopped being friends—every time someone asks you what happened between us—every time you miss me—I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember that you treated me like garbage because I wouldn’t let you fuck me.”

Harry remains silent, facing away from you and offering you no reaction. Just as your hand is on the doorknob to leave, Harry calls out your name to stop you.

“Oh and, Y/N,” he begins. You stop where you stand but don’t offer him the courtesy of turning around to meet his gaze. Just by the tone of his voice, you knew that he wasn’t going to say something pleasant. “I know all about you and Parker.”

You’re not even sure that you’re breathing at that point.

“I bet your father’s rolling in his grave right now,” he lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “I mean, Jesus, what kind of whore hooks up with someone at her dad’s funeral?”

“Go to hell,” you snap back, grabbing the handle to his bedroom door and slamming it shut.

“Maybe I’ll see you there!” Harry calls back.

It hits you at that instant that Harry is the second boy to reject you in about two weeks. It seems that regardless of how much you beg or how much you solicit yourself, you can never seem to attain the attention and affection of anyone fully.

It stings that you’d expected Harry to never be like the other boys that you and your friends complained about. He’d always been so respectful, so caring, so patient. Now, he was treating you like a stranger, as though you’d done the most egregious thing known to mankind. If this was the way that Harry truly was behind closed doors, then frankly, you wanted nothing to do with him.

_____

After your blowout with Harry, you’d gone searching for Gwen all around the apartment, and with a misplaced phone, you couldn’t contact her to find out where she’d gone. When you finally found your phone, you saw that she had texted multiple times looking for you. The last text she’d sent you had informed you that she was leaving with MJ but that she’d looked all over for you.

So, you grabbed your belongings and exited the apartment as quickly as possible. You hadn't exactly planned out what you’d do after leaving though…

You spent a good half hour wandering around the streets of the Upper East Side aimlessly, letting yourself sob uncontrollably into your tweed Gucci jacket. You had undoubtedly ruined the white fabric with your mascara-stained tears, but you didn’t care enough.

You missed your father. You needed Gwen. Hell, you would’ve even settled for being comforted by Pepper. But ultimately, you just wanted Peter. You hated that he was all you could think about. Even after getting into a fight with him that night, you still needed him. You couldn’t part ways with him so quickly, and you knew he felt the same way. You knew that he was pushing you away to protect himself, and you understood that. But you knew now more than ever that you were ready to commit to him.

You knew that the way you had pushed him away in the past was beyond fucked up, and you knew that making him adhere to your time frame meant that he didn’t owe you anything. And, of course, there was the whole Harry situation. You regretted everything that had to do with Harry—not only what had transpired tonight. But maybe, just maybe, if you could go to him, and have a real heart-to-heart, then maybe things could be different.

Another capricious decision leads you to get on the train to Queens. You hadn’t been on the Subway in years. Your father had always denounced public transportation, explaining there was no reason for it when Happy was there to take you anywhere you wanted. Now, you certainly could’ve called your godfather to pick you up, but you didn’t want him to see you so defeated. Plus, you needed the time to think about what you’d say to Peter. How would you rectify this situation? If you could rectify this situation.

The trip feels so long and arduous—especially given the time—as it requires you to get off at various stations, sometimes walking for ten minutes at a time to catch the next departing trains. Part of you enjoys this, though, as it gives you time to think about how to approach this issue, and sober up too.

When you arrive in Queens, it’s 1:08 am exactly. You had texted Pepper and told her you were sleeping at Gwen’s. Hopefully, she didn’t question it.

You know the way from this station to Peter’s apartment. A walk that normally felt like a few minutes currently felt like hours. Finally, his apartment complex coming into your line of sight makes you wish that the walk could’ve possibly been a little longer. But you muster up all the strength that you have and enter the building.

The elevator ride upstairs has you wringing out your hands nervously and pacing back and forth. It feels like the exact same experience that you had earlier today going up to Harry’s apartment. This is the worst kind of deja vu ever.

The next few minutes feel like a blur as you walk to Peter’s apartment, doing your best to breathe and not to cry. You exhale shakily and finally let your knuckle come in contact with the wooden door that leads inside the Parker’s home.

May opens the door a few seconds after your knock, an incredibly shocked look on her face. Ever the beautiful woman, she has her long hair placed in a haphazard yet stylish bun. Glasses rest crookedly on the bridge of her nose, and she wears some comfortable-looking loungewear, notably a Star Wars t-shirt (that you’re pretty sure belongs to her nephew). She was obviously sleeping before you woke her up, and now you feel terrible. Even more than you already did.

“Y/N,” she states, blinking a few times to take in the sight of you. “What are you doing here, sweetie?”

“Um, oh, God, I’m sorry,” you breathe out nervously, feeling the tears starting to fall from your eyes for the umpteenth time that night. “I came here looking for Peter, but I just realized how crazy it was for me to come here uninvited in the middle of the night. I’m gonna go now. I’m so sorry for wasting your time, Ms. Parker.”

“No, no, Y/N, please, please come in. Talk to me, something is obviously wrong. Talk to me, honey,” she urges you, grabbing your arm to lead you inside her home slowly.

“I, um, I messed up really badly, and I’m trying to make it up to Peter, but I’m doing a shitty—I mean, I’m doing a really bad job, and he won’t forgive me. But I need him to. I need to talk to him so badly,” you ramble hysterically, your chest rising and falling in uneven, labored increments. “It’s just been a really bad night.”

“Oh, Y/N,” May coos softly, wiping your tears away with her thumbs. “It’s going to be okay. It is, honey, I promise. Peter’s taking a shower, okay? But you’re more than welcome to stay here and wait until he finishes. Do you want to do that?”

“Yeah,” you nod abruptly. “Please.”

“Okay,” she offers you a concerned smile. “Come here, honey.”

She guides you over to the largest couch in the living room and takes you into her arms, rubbing comforting circles into your back. You will yourself to stop crying but you can’t. The tears feel like they’ll never stop.

Another fifteen minutes pass until you hear the water shut off in the bathroom. When it finally does, your heart jumps.

“You know,” May states gently. “I’m not sure what’s going on between you and Peter—even though I can probably make some assumptions—but I want you to know that he does care about you, and I’m sure he always will.”

“I don’t know. I feel like he hates me,” you mumble, wiping some more tears away from your eyes.

May laughs. “Never. He could never.”

You fiddle with your fingers nervously. “Yeah, I’m not so sure. Like I said, I really messed up. I don’t know how to fix it.”

May continues to rub your back soothingly. “Well, you’re here now, and that has to count for something.”

“I don’t even know what I’ll say to Peter,” you sigh.

“Just be honest with him. He’ll be able to tell when you’re putting up a front, but he’s not as stubborn as you peg him to be. Peter just wants you to know that you care,” May answers.

“I do care; so much,” you agree fervently.

The sound of Peter’s bedroom door opening brings your conversation to a halt. You hold your breath as you wait for Peter to appear. You have no idea how he will react or if he’ll even hear you out. You try to take May’s advice and praise yourself for even seeking him out. However, your anxiety berates you and calls you obsessed, desperate, pathetic. He already turned you down one time, so why are you continuing? You don’t even know.

May calls to him. “Hey, Peter, you doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m exhausted, though,” he yawns. You watch as he emerges from his room in nothing but a pair of loose plaid boxer shorts as he simultaneously dries his hair off with a towel. You subconsciously shift in May’s arms to get a better look at him, your eyes gliding across his taut abs and the cords of muscle that adorn his arms and hands. Your tongue instinctually darts out to wet your lip, but you do your best to quell the budding arousal that you’re experiencing. Now is certainly not the time for that way of thinking.

As he walks closer to you, you feel like you’re going to faint. You can’t remember the last time that you were this nervous.

When he finally does set eyes on you, you see many emotions flashing across his face: anger, confusion, hope?

“Hi, Pete,” you choke out, offering him a cautious wave.

“Y/N,” he states. You can see a tiny wave of concern flash across his face as he takes in your fully disheveled state. “What’s wrong?”

“So many things,” you reply through teary eyes. “So many things went wrong tonight. But, please, please, Peter, let me talk to you; please hear me out.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” May announces softly. You pull away from her, and she gives you a knowing look as if to say, “You’ve got this!” She then slowly makes her way to her room; however, you’re pretty sure she lingers outside of it around for a few minutes.

Peter makes his way over to where you are on the couch, but instead of sitting, he remains standing with his arms crossed.

You swallow nervously before answering. “I know you say you don’t want to be with me. That you think it’s a bad idea for us to be together, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me to be apart from you. I think about you all the time. I—I don’t know how much longer I can go on without you. And I don’t want to beg you to be with me, I know I look so pathetic coming here and pleading with you, but I don’t know how else to apologize.”

He stares at you blankly. “Y/N, the reason that I say we can’t be together is that I know how easily you change your mind. How easily you get confused and bored and how difficult it is for you to make sense of how your actions hurt others. In a relationship, that’s not okay. I just feel like—I don’t know, you have no regard for how other people feel sometimes.”

“You’re right,” you agree. “But you had no regard for how I felt tonight. You totally dismissed how I was feeling after I walked in on you and Kameron. Do you know how badly that hurt? The way that you made me feel is the way that you seem to feel when Harry and I do anything together..”

“First of all, her name is Keira. Secondly, I saw how you and Harry were at the party tonight. You were practically sitting in his lap begging for him to sleep with you,” Peter retorts.

“I didn’t go to the fucking party for Harry. I went to the party for you. I can barely get out of bed most days, but I got up today for you, and I made myself look pretty for you, and I went searching around Harry’s entire fucking apartment for you,” you sob. “And when you rejected me tonight, I made a complete fucking fool out of myself. I thought that trying to distract myself with Harry would make me feel better. But it didn’t—he hates me just as much as you do. He called me a whore and a bitch.”

Peter immediately sits next to you on the couch, his eyes filled with rage. Once again, seeing Peter in such a worked-up state made your thighs clench together. “He called you what?”

“He said I was a whore,” you repeat, wiping away some more tears. “He knows about us, and when I rejected him, well, he went off. Said all of these horrible things to me.”

“That fucker,” Peter mutters under his breath. “I’m going to kill him.”

“But I’m not your girlfriend, so you shouldn’t care,” you reply dryly.

Peter stares at you for a few seconds as though fully taking you in. Thoroughly analyzing your facial features and trying to understand the implications of your words. “Y/N, it’s impossible for me to stop thinking about you too. I’ve tried so hard to remind myself of what I said to you the day of your father’s funeral. Tried to force myself to stick to my words. But I didn’t mean any of that; I was an asshole. Hell, it killed me to reject you again tonight. And I do believe that we’re bad for each other; but not all the time. I do believe that this might not work. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that it could?”

Your ears perk up at his words, but for once, you choose to keep your sarcastic remarks to yourself.

“I think it could,” you reply quickly. “I know it could. Because I want you, I want you so badly, and I’m willing to work for it. To work to make this good for the both of us.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your mouth. “You sure?”

“Mhmm,” you nod enthusiastically. “More sure than I’ve ever been of anything.”

“Maybe we can try this and see how it goes,” he suggests, his hand having found its way to your cheek to stroke it.

“I’d like that,” you say. “I’d like that a lot.”

When he finally leans in to press his lips to yours, you swear you ascend to heaven. Where you had tensed up as Harry had kissed you, you relax under Peter’s embrace, letting him guide you through laying back on the couch and moving his hands to skirt up your thighs. You buck against him as his tongue moves in tandem with yours, and you tug at his wet curls.

“Wanna go to my room?” His fingers glide up and down your arm gently.

“Yes, please. But wait, don’t you think your aunt is going to be suspicious?” You inquire with a smirk.

He trails kisses from your cheek down to your neck down to your collarbone. “She’s asleep.”

“You’re positive?” You whimper, your arm resting comfortably around his neck.

He finally tugs you up from the couch and ushers you toward his room. “Spidey senses remember?”

“Is that what those are for? Not getting caught during late-night sex?” You giggle as he closes the door to his room behind you.

“We’re having sex?” He stares at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, God, shit, I just assumed?” You panic.

“Just messing with you, pretty girl,” he steps closer to you and grins. “I wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you in this dress.” He grabs your hips to pull you closer to him, then kisses you softly again.

You feel like you barely blink before he has you on his bed, underneath him. You melt under his embrace, reveling in the feeling of his gentle kisses on your lips, your cheek, and your neck.

You bring his larger hand around to the small of your back so he can find the zipper on your dress. “I’ve been waiting for you to take it off me since I first saw you tonight,” you answer breathlessly.

He quickly obliges you, his fingers deftly pulling down the zipper to reveal your back. He plays with your spine, rubbing tiny circles into it, as he simultaneously uses his bare knee to spread your legs wider for him. You moan as his knee comes in contact with your wet center. You sit up momentarily for him to help you out of your dress, and you swear he looks as though he’s seen God when you’re finally out of the garment. You tuck your knees under your lap and straighten your spine so he can take you in. Your cheeks have a beautifully rosy glow, your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, and your skin shines beautifully under the dim lighting of his bedroom. You watch as his eyes flicker toward your erect nipples, then down toward where you need him the most.

“You’re the most beautiful person in the entire world,” he answers as earnestly as possible. Connecting your lips with his again, you bring his left hand to cup your right breast. His slim fingers instantly go to tweak your nipple, and you moan into his mouth. When he replaces his fingers with his mouth, you almost pass out. He’s barely even given you any stimulation, and you already feel like you might come. You let your hands play with his hair as he alternates between swirling his tongue on your left and right breast.

“Touch me, Petey,” you practically beg. “I’m so wet for you.”

Peter lets one hand travel down from your breast to your panties. He curses when his fingers come in contact with the soaked material. “Gonna take this off, okay? Lift your hips for me.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Okay.” He tugs the material down your thighs, leaving you fully naked.

His hands rake over your stomach. “My beautiful girl. I really did miss you so much.”

His words alone are enough to make you cry, but when he drags his index finger from your clit down your opening, you think you might start crying real tears. “Peter, Peter, please don’t tease.”

“We’ll see,” he shrugs. “How badly do you want my fingers?”

“More than anything,” you plead. “Please.”

“Someone’s desperate,” he tsks. “Good thing I’m feeling generous.”

You could almost laugh at how submissive you’ve become to him. But it’s so hot to see him assert some dominance over you that you don’t mind it at all.

You yelp when he finally inserts his finger into your pussy. The wet, squelching sound, in combination with his rapid thrusts, makes your head fall back in euphoria. You let your hand travel down to play with your clit, and he adds a second finger, then eventually a third.

“You make me feel so good,” you cry out. “God, Peter.”

The stimulation of your clit in conjunction with the feeling of Peter’s fingers curling upward is heavenly. When he curves his index finger upwards to hit your g-spot, you let out a yelp, and your eyes widen. You’re so close and it’s only been five minutes.

“You gonna come for me?” Peter murmurs, speeding up his pace. You give him an enthusiastic nod, and when he leans forward to take your right nipple into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue, you let out one last cry and finish on his fingers, stifling your moan with your free hand.

“That was—that was good,” you offer Peter a blissed-out smile, reaching up to caress his cheek.

You return to kissing each other for a few minutes, moaning as your sensitive clit comes in contact with Peter’s boxer-clad erection. He finally pulls away to remove his boxers from his body. Your fingers glide across his abs as he strips himself of the last piece of clothing she wears.

He’s just as pretty as you remember—painfully hard against his stomach, at least over 6 inches, and pink tip leaking with precum. You have the urge to get on your knees and place him into your mouth and make him cry out your name. You take him in your hand and wrap your hand around him, letting your thumb brush across his tip and collecting some of his arousal on your fingertip.

He bucks his hips against your hand and groans out. “Jesus, babe.” You beam at the pet name he gives you. You set a comfortable pace, stroking him faster from tip to base. You take the opportunity to mark up his neck and play with his abs.

“Do you like the way I make your cock feel?” You purr in his ear. “You’re so hard for me. Can’t wait for you to be inside me.”

“If you keep doing that, I’ll come all over you,” he moans enthusiastically. “Let me fuck you.”

You separate for a minute for Peter to grab a condom from his bedside table. “I see you planned for this.”

“I was hopeful,” he shrugs with a tiny smile. Unwrapping the package, he’s quick to place the condom on himself.

“I want to ride you,” you assert when Peter pulls you back into his embrace. Peter kisses you again, this time much more slowly and sensually. You settle on top of him, rubbing your core against his cock. You moan into his mouth as he grinds himself against you.

“I missed you a lot, Y/N,” Peter repeats slowly. “I’m really glad we made up. I—I care about you so much.”

Your mouth falls open in pleasure when Peter slowly inserts himself inside your pussy. “Go slow,” you breathe out.

He grunts as he slowly sheaths himself inside of you. Despite being soaked, it takes you a minute to adjust to his size, as you hadn’t had sex in, well, over five years. Your fingers could only have so much of an impact on you.

When he finally bottoms out, you both share a collective moan. Peter brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. “So gorgeous.”

You lift yourself up slowly to ultimately land back on his lap again. “Peter,” you whimper. “Oh my God.”

You rise up and down more quickly on his cock, stifling your moans in his neck. When he starts to meet his thrusts with yours, your head falls back. Peter keeps a secure hold on the small of your back as he continues a consistent pace.

“Missed you. Missed your tight little pussy,” he moans into your ear. He licks and sucks at your breasts, marking them up with his teeth, and swirling your nipples under his tongue.

A comfortable silence arises between you two. The way that he stares into your eyes and cradles your body in his makes your stomach swarm with butterflies and your head go dizzy. When his hand goes down to your clit, you feel the familiar sensation building in your stomach. A look of desperation flashes over your eyes as Peter speeds up his thrusts, and allows his fingers to dance more quickly across your clit.

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” you chant. “I’m gonna—keep going just like that.”

One particular enthusiastic thrust makes you scream out, and your hand instantly flies to your mouth to cover it.

“You feel so good around me,” Peter grunts. “I’m close, too.”

The more Peter continues at the pace he’s established, the closer and closer you get to that very special precipice. And then, like an explosion, it hits you out of nowhere.

You shriek, rising up and down on Peter at an animalistic pace. “Peter, fuck, Peter, I’m coming. Oh my God, baby!” He presses his lips to yours quickly and moans into your mouth, as your pussy contracts, and you gush all over him. Your vision is enveloped by nothing but complete white, as you experience a level of pleasure that you’re sure you’ve ever achieved before. Making love to Peter after having resolved most of your problems makes you feel giddy in a way that you’d only dreamed about. To feel so loved and appreciated and worshiped by him are things you wouldn’t trade for anything.

That familiar look settles in his eyes after you’ve orgasmed, and you work to help him reach his own climax. “Y/N, shit, Y/N.”

“Come on, baby, give it to me, Peter,” you beg, repeating your past movements. “Come for me, Petey.”

With those words of encouragement, he lets out a choked groan that makes you moan out with him and buries his face in your neck as he explodes into the condom.

When he finally comes down from his high, he helps you off of him to lay next to him. Grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom, he helps you clean yourself up and then settles into bed next to you.

“Hi,” you say softly, moving some curls away from his forehead.

“Hi,” he iterates, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I know I’ve said that already, but Peter, you mean so much to me,” you state sincerely. You can feel a lump forming in your throat at your admission. “I understand that it took so much for you to forgive me, and I understand that you didn’t actually want to in the first place. But I can’t be without you in my life. I just need you to understand that.”

“It was killing me to be away from you, too, Y/N. Like I told you, I missed you just as much,” he replies softly.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be with you. I hope you realize how much I truly mean that,” you tell him. “I only pushed you away because I was afraid of losing you. I thought that if I let you be there for me, then you’d get tired of me and my problems. That you’d leave me.”

You register that you’re crying when Peter swipes away some translucent droplets from your cheeks. “I could never leave you. You are incredibly annoying sometimes, and so stubborn, and a little bit aloof, but that doesn’t stop me from caring about you like I do.”

You take the opportunity to bring your reunion to a close by wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him gently. “Goodnight, Pete.” You snuggle into his embrace, and he lets his head fall into your neck comfortably, his hands still rubbing languid circles on your back.

You sleep wonderfully that night—certainly the best you have in weeks. When you finally wake up around 11 am the next morning, you notice that Peter is still asleep next to you. Smiling softly at him, you rake your fingers through his curls and place a kiss on his forehead lovingly.

Untangling yourself from his sheets and letting your feet hit the floor of his bedroom, you rummage through his drawers for an oversized t-shirt to pull over your body. Tugging your panties over your legs, you also pull on some of Peter’s fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm.

In your exhausted but elated stupor, you barely have time to think about the fact that May is probably up and waiting for Peter in the kitchen.

It is a Sunday morning after all.

Dragging your feet to the kitchen, you let out a tired yawn.

“Good morning, Peter—oh wow, Y/N?” May yelps, almost dropping the coffee mug in her hand. “I didn’t know you stayed the night.”

“Oh, um, yeah, it was late by the time that Peter and I finished talking, so I just slept over. I hope that was okay,” you answer uncomfortably.

Her eyes rake over the outfit that you wear. She obviously knows what you stayed over to do. “No problem.”

You quickly pivot on your heel to walk back to Peter. “I’m going to go wake up Peter.”

May nods awkwardly, and you make your way back toward Peter’s room.

When you arrive back inside Peter’s room, you take a careful seat back on the edge of his bed. The action awakens him, and he turns to face you.

“Hey, baby,” you call to him gently. “Did you sleep well?”

“Because you were here, yeah,” he offers you a cheeky smile. “Why are you smiling so wide, pretty girl?” You blush at the nickname as he takes his hand in yours.

“Just happy,” you answer genuinely. You snuggle up next to him and let your eyes flutter closed. And for the first time in weeks, you register that you’d woken up honestly, indisputably happy, and naturally, just as you’d expected, Peter was the cause.

#peter parker x y/n #peterparker x reader #peterparkersmut #peterparker x y/n smut #tonystark #marvel #gwen stacy #harry osborn #smut #marvelsmut #tom holland #harry osborn x reader #mj #zendaya

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saragargan · 3 years ago

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Eight Arms To Hold You - 9

Pairing: Doc Ock/Original Female Character, Scorpion/Original Female Character Rating: Explicit Summary: Piper goes to confront Otto about his ties to the other supervillains. The wound she got during her fight with Scorpion comes with consequences. Prev. chapter. Start from the beginning AO3 link

The lab was cold and dark when Otto returned from the heist. Mentally he felt drained, working with one other supervillain was irritating enough, working with both Mac Gargan and Aleksei Sytsevich was migraine-inducing. Their apparent camaraderie during the first meeting with Fisk had quickly devolved into yelling and punching matchs. Otto spent more time keeping them from killing each other than he did actually doing his job. As he reaches for the light switch one of the mechanical arms catches an outline in the dark just before he flips the switch, and it slams into the wall just as the lights flicker on. When he turns to look he sees Piper, leaning against the wall, arm impaled in the wall inches away from her face, having moved her head to the side just in time. She gives him a sour look. “Christ Piper, I could’ve killed you.” Piper taps the side of her head. “Not with my tingle.” “With your what ?” She pushes off the wall and comes over to him. “My spidersense, sixth sense, intuition, whatever you want to call it. What are you planning with the rest of New York’s finest criminals?” Otto sighs, turning away from her and leaning on one of his workshop tables. “I was waiting for you to ask that, and hoping you wouldn’t”

Piper says nothing, and he knew that if he were to look back at her she’d have her arms crossed, and be looking at him expectantly. “Wilson Fisk. Wants to build a machine capable of opening dimensional gateways. I think he’s looking for his wife and son. He sought each of us out, did his research, got something hanging over all our heads, to force us to work for him. He wants us to make noise, keep the spotlight off him.” Otto turns to face Piper and sure enough, she’s got her arms crossed.

“He’s spending a lot of money, importing rare and illegal supplies. Doesn’t want you and certainly not the government or Avengers finding out about it. I’m telling you now because I hope you can put a stop to it. His machine…it’s not stable. There’s a tiny, tiny chance it’ll work, but the most likely outcome will be the destruction of the fabric of our reality.”

Piper lets out a shaky breath. “Wow that’s….so much worse than what I was imagining. I figured it was the start of a Spider-Woman haters club, the ‘Furious Five’ or something like that.” Otto’s mouth quirks up on one side. “The Sinister Six.” “What?” “That’s what Fisk calls us, the last one is Mysterio. You haven’t run into him yet because Fisk keeps him on site, cloaking the machine from any prying eyes.” “Oh goody, I hate Mysterio. I’d take Scorpion over him anyday.” Piper lifts up one side of her shirt, revealing a large bandage across her ribs and stomach. “He got me pretty good.” A look of realization falls across Piper’s face, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. “Of course. You said Kingpin’s got something hanging over everyone’s heads right? Sara must be his.” “Sara?” “You remember that time we went to the Coffee Bean with Harry and MJ? She was our waitress, she still works there. Her and Mac are together, engaged. I knew she was dating someone but I didn’t find out it was him until just today. Me and MJ were there again when he showed up, that’s how I followed him to you.” “Didn’t take Gargan for the romantic type.” “No, me neither. Kind of a surprise to see him make out with the girl who’s served me coffee the past three years.” They laugh a little at that, and then Piper smiles softly at him.

“What’s yours?” “My what?” “Your reason. What does Kingpin have over you that is forcing you to play his game?” Otto can feel heat bloom across his face, and the arms give away his flustered state, tucking themselves behind his back like they were hiding. “It’s you.” “Me?” Otto swallows thickly. “He knows who you are, and he knows I care about you. When he came to me he threatened to expose your identity if I didn’t cooperate.” Piper just stares at him. Her face is a frozen mask of shock, and he has no clue to what could possibly be going through her head. She takes a deep breath, and he can see tears forming in her eyes. “You did that for me?” Otto nods, and Piper gives him a watery smile. Then she rushes forward, and he catches her, and she’s kissing him, kissing him, kissing him. She’s got both hands on either side of his face and when she pulls away to smile at him he swipes at the tears threatening to spill over. “You and that waitress have something in common.” “What’s that?” “You both have terrible taste in men.” Otto leans down to kiss her again and she smiles against his mouth. They’re both so preoccupied with each other that neither one of them hears the door to the stairwell slam, and it’s only a second before he speaks that he feels Piper tense up. “Hey Doc, you here? Gotta talk to you about…..oh.” Mac Gargan stands in the doorway to the lab, with a surprised look on his face. He looks them up and down, still in each other’s embrace, staring right back at him. “Uh. Wow. Didn’t know you two knew each other…that well. Long time no see Piper.” Piper gives him an awkward, half smile, blush spreading across her cheeks. She’s coiled tight as a spring in his arms, full of tension. He drops his hands from where they had wandered up Piper’s shirt, and steps back from her. “Make this quick Gargan.” Otto doesn’t bother to hide the irritation in his voice. “Think something’s up with the suit. It’s not working right, it’s slow.” “Did you charge it?” “I’m supposed to charge it?” Otto closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to smack Gargan upside the head. “Did you read the instructions I gave you?” “You didn’t give me any instructions.” Otto rolls his eyes, and crosses the room to his computer. He most certainly had given him instructions, but then again he wasn’t even sure if Gargan could read. As the computer boots up, he hears Mac speak to Piper behind him. “So does Jameson know you’re screwing Doc Ock?” “Shut up Mac.” He laughs at her sour tone, but then cuts himself off. “Whoa. Hey, Piper, you're bleeding.” What? Otto whips around and sees Piper look down at herself. There’s bright red spots blooming across her t-shirt, in two distinct lines. He must’ve pulled the bandage off while his hands were under her shirt and reopened the wound. What happens next seems to happen in slow motion. Gargan’s eyes narrow suspiciously, Piper’s eyes flick from her wound to his face, and then realization dawns on him. “Shit.” She says under her breath. Gargan’s nodding, his mouth twisting into a snarl. “So that’s how you’ve been getting those photographs.” It doesn’t appear instantaneously the way it had before, but the suit flashes up his body, stinger already in motion towards Piper, who is still frozen in shock. Her instincts should’ve kicked in, but there would be no way she’d get out of the way in time. Without him even realizing it one of the tentacles grabs the stinger mid-air, the way it had before, but this time it shatters in his grasp, the tentacle closing on itself with a sharp clang. The stinger rematerializes, but in Otto’s direction this time, who was expecting it to go after Piper again. A tentacle tries to knock it aside, but it catches him in the shoulder. “Stay outta this Doc.” Pain like he never could’ve imagined sears through his bloodstream, driving him to his knees. The metal arms writhe around like they feel his agony, and he supposes they do in a way, they were directly connected to his nervous system. An involuntary scream tears it’s way out of his throat, and that’s what seems to shake Piper. She dodges seconds before Scorpion’s tail sweeps her legs out from under her, leaping straight up in the air and twisting her body. Her right foot connects with Gargan’s face, and he reels backwards, catching himself on a toolbench. If he hadn’t been in mortal agony, Otto would’ve marvelled at the strange sight of Piper performing those stunts with no spider-suit present. Mac Gargan was a big guy, he was taller than Otto, and nearly as jacked as the guys posing for Mr. Universe. So it was a little unbelievable to see Piper, who was slender and lithe in comparison, and know they were of almost equal strength. Harder even to believe that Piper was the stronger one. But any doubt you had about her would disappear if you watched her stop Scorpion’s punch with the palm of her hand. Her fingers close over his, the second fist following only to also be caught. The power exerted between the two of them was almost palpable as each fought for the upper hand. Scorpion’s tail whips out once again, but Piper is two steps ahead. She releases both of Gargan’s fists, sending him stumbling forward, and uses the momentum of the tail swinging to propel herself across the lab. She lands on the floor, and grabs a backpack Otto hadn’t noticed before. Scorpion charges at her, but she tosses something from her bag, and it sticks to his chest.

There’s an explosion of webbing, going in every direction. Most of it is wrapped around Scorpion, pinning his arms to his aise. Piper kicks him in the chest and he stumbles into a wall and sticks to it.

Otto watches all of this through blurred, hazy vision. The pain from Scorpion’s venom was overwhelming. Piper rummages through the backpack once more, and once she finds what she’s looking for, leaps over a workshop table to where Otto is. She pops the cap off of whatever she’s holding, and Otto sees a needle extend. Before he can protest she sticks it into his shoulder, right next to the sting, and pushes the plunger. It’s incredible, the way Otto can feel it move through his bloodstream. Like drinking ice water on a hot day. As the pain subsides, he can see clearly again, and notices blood trickling down the palms of his hands from where his fingernails bit into the skin. He must’ve been clenching his fists very tightly. Across the room, Scorpion struggles against the webbing, cursing at Piper, who offers Otto her hand. He lets her pull him to his feet, and nods to the injector in her hand. “Anti-venom?” “Yeah, I developed it myself when this dummy-” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder at Gargan. “first showed up. If you leave that in your bloodstream long enough it becomes a hallucinogen. I think I was chasing pink elephants for at least 4 hours.” “And it was funny as hell too.” Gargan chimes in, Piper pointedly ignores him. Otto can see the suit dematerializing and rematerializing underneath the webbing, looking for an out. “I think the only reason it wore off so quickly is because of my advanced metabolism.” “‘ Advanced metabolism ’” Gargan mocks Piper’s tone of voice. “Face it babe, it’s a mutation same as me. And you.” He looks at Otto. “You’ve known about this the whole time? Just wait til the boss finds out how cozy you are with the Spider.” Piper finally turns to face him. “Fisk already knows about me. And I don't think Sara would appreciate you calling me babe.”

Gargan’s eyes go wide, and for a moment he stops struggling. “How the hell do you know about Sara?” Piper gives him a noncommittal shrug and turns back to Otto, and Gargan starts to thrash against the webbing again. “Hey! You just leave her alone, she’s not part of this. You hear me, Spider? Stay the hell away from her.” Piper lifts herself up to sit on one of the workbench tables, ripping the bottom of her t-shirt off and dabbing at the blood at her side. “Sounds like you care about her a lot Mac. Which is a surprise, I didn’t think you were capable of caring about anything besides money. So how about we make a deal, hmm? You keep your mouth shut about me and Otto, and Otto doesn’t tell Fisk about your plan to betray him.” “What the hell are you talking about, I don’t plan on betraying Fisk. Fisk is giving me what I want.” Piper smiles at him. “Exactly.” If she didn’t have such an upstanding moral code, Otto had to believe that Piper would make one hell of a supervillain. He knew she would never put an innocent civilian at risk like that, and Gargan knew it too, but was too distressed at the moment to realize it. She could be a good liar when she needed to be.

“Fine! Fine, just. Leave her out of this.” “Aw I knew you’d come around Mac old buddy old pal.” “Shut up Piper.” Gargan continues to struggle against the webbing. “Get me out of this.” “Sorry, no can do. That won't dissolve for another hour or so. I’m afraid you’re stuck here until then.” Gargan starts cursing her out, using some words Otto had never even heard before. He strings together an impressive amount of very angry insults, to which Piper merely smiles. Then she turns to Otto again. “Anyway, I believe we were in the middle of something weren’t we? If you don’t mind the mess, my place isn’t too far away.” Otto feels a blush creep back across his face, and gives her a nod. She grins widely at him, and pulls on a sweatshirt. She grabs her backpack. “Okay good.” As they turn to leave, Gargan practically howls in rage at them. “Don’t worry, I’ll let Sara know where you are.” Piper calls over her shoulder. “Piper, I swear to-” “Clean up this mess before you leave. And don’t forget to turn the lights off.” Otto tells him. And the door to the lab closes with a final, resounding click.

#doc ock x oc #doc ock x original character #doc ock x original female character #doc ock #doctor octopus #otto octavius #mac gargan #oc: piper parker #oc: sara drake #saramac #octospider #eight arms to hold you #oc fic

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traincat · 4 years ago

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if you dont mind i would love to hear your thoughts on how and why peter seems to be more fulfilled by lower paying jobs (i.e photography, teaching) rather than by high paying jobs in STEM

(Sorry for the wait, anon! I did get this first ask, as you can see, it’s just that sometimes I tend to hoard asks that I want to give long in-depth answers to and then they get buried.)

So I think to best answer this the first thing we have to do is look at Peter’s 616 employment history -- what jobs he’s had when and for approximately how long. So here we have a more or less definitive list -- I may have skipped over a few minor jobs that aren’t important in the long run of the character history, but for the most part this is accurate. For the sake of brevity I am not going to count things he’s done as Spider-Man that have earned him money, like a brief bodyguard stint or his occasional time with the Avengers, because this is really more about his identity as Peter Parker and how his civilian employment plays into his life as Spider-Man than about his life as Spider-Man.

Works for the Daily Bugle on and off, through a variety of positions from part time to salaried, from the age of 15 onwards. Primarily a photographer. How good of a photographer Peter actually is varies from writer to writer, but he remains unmatched in his ability to get certain shots ranging from ones of Spider-Man (duh) to particularly high risk environments (different duh). He also briefly worked for rival newspaper the Daily Globe, the Bugle’s main competitor. His position as a full time newspaper photographer is his most well known (and most consistent) job.

A TA in grad school at Empire State University. At this point in time he labeled himself as having “the wrong temperament” for teaching -- and I would personally say I think his stints teaching college are much less engaging than high school.

Published author. His book, Webs, a collection of his Spider-Man photography, was a major bestseller that sent him on a book tour around the country. I hesitated sticking this on here because it’s very tied into his work with the Bugle -- and he was still working for the Bugle when the book was published -- but I figured it was worth including for the novelty of the fact that Peter’s technically a best selling author/artist.

Peter worked as a scientist at Galannan Alternative Research for Immunization Development (GARID) in Portland after his clone Ben Reilly took over the identity of Spider-Man. Although often overlooked in discussions of Peter’s job history, I think his stint at GARID is important in part because it illustrates how much of Peter’s time being Spider-Man took up and how a job with flexible hours was necessary for that balancing act. When he was working at GARID, Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, so it wasn’t difficult for him to keep a position at a laboratory.

I mean granted the GARID job didn’t last long and there was sort of a whole big mutated monster case going on with it but you know. Anyway he pretty quickly moved back to New York and started working for the Bugle again.

Peter’s next major job at a lab comes in another period where he’s supposed to have quit being Spider-Man. (Which he did, very temporarily, and then he very much didn’t. Anyway, you’re seeing the pattern here.) He briefly worked at Tricorp, a private brain trust. This is a really short-lived position, even as Peter’s science gigs go, because -- Spider-Man.

At this point things get dicey employment-wise as Peter heads into a weird period of canon where Mary Jane was presumed dead. She wasn’t! But everyone thought she was. It was weird. When MJ came back (and promptly left for LA, not that I blame her), Peter exited this period of limbo by becoming a science teacher at his old school, Midtown High. This is the main career, beside news photography, that I think he really shines in.

Civil War/One More Day/Brand New Day hit and completely tank the direction of Spider-Man history. Peter’s marriage is erased by the devil and also he’s not a high school teacher anymore, for some reason, even though nobody remembers he’s Spider-Man anymore which is the reason he initially lost the Midtown High job. Make it make sense. Anyway, in Marvel’s desperate scramble to take Spider-Man back to the unmarried basics, as if they even got new readers that way, Peter returned to photography. When Dexter Bennett bought the Bugle out from under JJJ while JJJ was sick, Peter began working for the newly minted “DB” as a tabloid photographer. It wasn’t great.

He also briefly at some point in here worked at a comic book store for like five minutes. Mostly he complained about people who read comic books and made jokes about how he doesn’t get along with the X-Men.

Under Slott’s run, Peter began working at Horizon Labs. Slott had a pretty major problem with Peter’s genius not being “recognized enough” and constantly had him inventing new things, showing off, etc.

Horizon Lab became Parker Industries under Otto Octavius when he bodyjacked Peter during Superior Spider-Man and made himself CEO. When Peter got his body back, he was still CEO. It was bad but Peter did tank the company on purpose so that Otto and also nazis couldn’t get their hands on it, which was sort of fun.

Peter went back to work for the Bugle, but as their science editor, because Slott was still in charge and there was some weird commentary about photography not being an adult job. Which I think is pretty weird in a medium that’s very dependent on visual art. But okay.

Then Peter got fired because he was busted for plagiarism of Otto Octavius’ work... that Otto did himself... while he was in Peter’s body... and Peter couldn’t reveal this because then he’d have to explain... and maybe I hate comics.

In MC2 he becomes a forensic scientist! I really like this for him actually. I think it combines his interests and experiences in a very thoughtful way. But I do want to note it’s after a Spider-Man career ending injury, so again there’s not a real conflict there between his work as Spider-Man and a career.

Peter I think is an especially interesting case in how his character ties into his employment history because one of the first things he does in his story is figure out how to make money, and he does this because the Parkers don’t have any. If Ben and May were comfortable -- even comfortable enough that their teenaged nephew was unaware of financial pressures -- Spider-Man’s story would be completely different. But Peter immediately feels he pressure to use his new powers to earn money, at first with brute strength. And what he says he’s going to do with his earnings is that he’s going to take care of Ben and May:

(Amazing Fantasy #15) So the concept of Peter as someone who is very aware of financial pressure and who is pretty explicitly linking money to support is present from the absolute beginning. But at the same time, there’s a kind of selfishness presented in him here -- he’s only going to take care of Ben and May. They’re the only ones he cares about here, because as he’s stated they’re the only ones who have ever “been kind” to him. Peter at the beginning of his story is very rooted in his anger and his bitterness, and it takes him losing Uncle Ben -- because it wasn’t Peter’s “job” to stop the burglar -- to get him to the point where he starts to be able to see beyond that.

Ben’s death also heightens the Parker’s financial pressures -- Ben is the primary earner in the household. (Aunt May in the original context of the early 1960s was most likely a homemaker, and as an older woman especially she wouldn’t be expected to have a job. But even moving the timescale up to a point where she would be expected as a woman to hold down a job, it’s important to note that early in Spider-Man canon Aunt May is depicted as being in very poor physical health.) While it’s not clear in the initial Spider-Man stories what Ben did, it’s clear that with his death whatever income the Parkers had coming in abruptly stops:

(ASM #1) This sets in concrete one of the central conflicts Peter and May have -- both of them lie to protect the other. Peter feigns being an ordinary boy in order to protect May from the stress of his secret life as Spider-Man, worried that she wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the danger he regularly puts himself in. But this is a learned behavior, and here we see that he most likely learned it from May: she doesn’t want him to worry about the very deep financial troubles they’re obviously in, so she pawns her jewelry, and she stresses to him the importance of his education. Again I have to note that there are some pretty significant social differences between the 1960s and today in regards to this story -- Betty Brant, for example, notes that she had to drop out of school and become a secretary because of her own family’s financial problems, something she’s ashamed of. So early Spider-Man is very rooted in money, class, education, and how those things intersect. I think it should be noted that the only early Spider-Man characters who are financially well-off are Liz, Gwen, and Harry. (We don’t know anything about Flash’s financial situation in early Spider-Man comics but retroactively we know his family situation is not well-off.) In high school, Liz’s father is a bigshot who owns a dining club, but later on the Allans experience financial hardship with Liz quite literally being on the streets when Peter reunites with her when he’s in college. Harry’s father is a rich businessman, but from the beginning he’s depicted as emotionally negligent, caring more about money than spending time with his son:

(ASM #40) “After all... I had a business to care of! Money was the most important thing of all! I had to get rich! I needed wealth... for that was the key to power!” So right away you have this link between wealth, corruption, and negligence. Norman’s pursuit of wealth is his given reason for his neglect of Harry. Later on we’d learn that Norman’s father was also abusive and that that abuse formed Norman’s ideas about power and wealth. (Spider-Man! It’s about cycles of abuse!) There’s a very contrast between Norman’s attitudes here and the Parkers loving (but poor) household. Gwen is the only exception here -- she and her father are depicted as comfortable, most likely edging into wealthy, although on nowhere the level the Osborns have been elevated to. But compared to Peter, Flash, and Mary Jane especially -- all from poor households, with MJ and Flash’s fathers both being abusive -- Gwen’s home situation is the picture of stability, both in terms of economic status and in terms of her loving and very present father.

My goal in outlining all of this isn’t to say that Spider-Man’s message is definitively “money is bad” because I don’t think it is. I think as a series Spider-Man is very aware of the comfort that money can provide. But I think there is a frequent message about excess in Spider-Man -- excess power, excess wealth. As Norman says above, in his eyes, money is the key to power. With great power, comes great responsibility. In Norman hoarding and abusing his wealth, he abuses his power. If he provides for Harry, it is solely through money -- there is no love or devotion in Norman’s money-focused world. And I think that’s important when you look at where Peter starts in his story, before Uncle Ben’s death. He’s going to use his powers to make a lot of money and he’s going to provide for Ben and May but he’s not going to care about the world outside of that. I think one of the interesting things about Peter -- and this is where Slott’s run especially fails the character -- is that he’s not interesting in getting rich. He’d like to be comfortable, for sure -- he’d like to have enough money to not have worry about it, to not have the need to hustle impede what he can do as Spider-Man, to be able to take care of his family. (And there’s some machismo stuff linked in here for him too -- in the early days of their marriage the fact that Mary Jane earns much more than him is something he struggles with.) But he doesn’t care about being rich. He doesn’t care about the money; he cares about the support that the money would bring.

That feels like a simple statement but I think it’s actually a really big distinction, especially when you’re analyzing a character. And I think it’s because Peter understands that value that it makes him so empathetic to others who have financial struggles. One of my favorite short self-contained Spider-Man stories is called Windfall, from Marvel Fanfare #42, where a mixup with a check embroils Peter in the personal affairs of a bank teller, a young single mother who is fired from her job ultimately because she refused the advances of her boss. Peter gets her her job back -- through blackmailing the boss for his other sexual affairs, which some people might think is immoral of him, but I think really speaks to Peter’s understanding of how the greater world works, and what he’s prepared to do to get bigger justice. But more importantly he uses his own money to pay the young woman’s rent, and he does it in a way where she never even knows it’s him. Because he understands her situation, the way someone who had grown up comfortable never could. And that understanding I think puts him a place where it’s more important for him to both keep that understanding and maintain that ability to act relatively freely, in the way that bigger, more prestigious positions in scientific fields might restrict him. There’s a reason he keeps getting fired from these scientific positions and it’s not that he can’t get them, because we can see from his employment history very clearly that he can. It’s because the freedom to act as Spider-Man and what he can do as Spider-Man is ultimately more important to him.

And while high school teacher is my number one favorite profession Peter has ever had, I think that his position as a newspaper photographer is also very important to the character’s history, in part because the Bugle is such a big part of his life and the connections he’s made but also because the Daily Bugle itself is important. I think it’s interesting to note that two of the biggest superheroes of all time from both of the big companies -- Spider-Man from Marvel and Superman from DC -- have had long running journalism jobs, Peter as a photographer and Clark as a reporter. I don’t think I really have to go into a whole thing about how good journalists are so important and why it matters that we have these incredibly famous mythic figures that are positioned in the roll of journalists specifically. But I do think it is important to Peter that he’s put in that position as someone who cares about uncovering the truth. So ultimately I think what I mean when I say Peter is more fulfilled by his jobs as a photojournalist and as a high school teacher than by his comparatively more high paying stints working as a scientist in a lab is that Peter gets the most fulfillment out of careers where he can actively see, day by day, that what he’s doing is helping people, and that it’s a very direct line from him to the people he’s helping. His efforts can’t be twisted, they can’t be used for other purposes the way they can within a larger organization. He has a line of control in what he can do to help other people. It’s like how Spider-Man functions best as a street level hero: what he does best is saving and helping individual people, on a case by case basis. And you can turn around and demonstrate that in his civilian life best in jobs where he gets to directly interact with people. And ultimately to Peter making that difference is more important than a better salary.

(Marvel Knights Spider-Man #9)

#peter parker #marvel comics #traincat talks comics #long post/

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rejectofsociety · 3 years ago

Text

Summary: MJ’s days away from marrying Harry, but Peter is still depressingly in love with her and decides to confess.

Rated: T

Warnings: Lotta Cursing, Cliche as hell

Word Count: 7,208

Written for @spideychelleweek with the prompt “Love Confessions”

Also read here on AO3

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

He should be happy for her— his dearest friend, Michelle, as her wedding is just days away. Peter should be hugging her as tightly as Ned does and smiling as brightly as Betty does. But he’s not. His smiles are thin and forced while his insides weep softly. And he doesn’t hug her at all, despite the physically affectionate person he usually is. He doesn’t even go near her all that much, as if the most innocent and brief touches could twist and strain his heart even more so than it already has been.

He’s not happy for her. Michelle’s getting married in two days, and Peter’s not happy for her.

He knows it’s stupid, pathetic, and petty to be hung up on his ex-girlfriend from highschool (they’re twenty-eight now), but he can’t help it. He’s tried moving past this undeniable, inescapable yearning for Michelle countless times. He had tried dating other people (to name a few: Gloria, Johnny, Liz— they are still friends now), but Peter’s relationships with them had been brief flings that ended swiftly.

Countless nights had been spent wondering if he was brave enough to ask Michelle for a second chance. But, memories of the look of dismay and the tears that stained her cheeks after he choked out: “I think we have to break up,” chased away any courage he gained. It was for the best, he always had to remind (rather, convince) himself. He had missed too many dates and important events, put her in danger one too many times, was incapable of keeping a job— he wasn’t enough for her.

So, now here they were. In Italy, with Michelle two days away from marrying her boyfriend of three years— Harry Osborn.

“Hey, Pete!” Harry calls, “are you coming with us or are you gonna keep staring off into space?”

Peter looks away from the sun setting peacefully and vibrantly on Vienna’s horizon and attempts to meet Harry’s gaze. His jaw goes tight and his eyes drop to his feet.

Harry’s a fine person— attractive as hell, stupid rich, and... that’s it actually. Maybe it was just him being bitter, but Peter saw no appeal past Harry’s looks and wealth. Sometimes he wonders if Michelle felt compelled to marry him for some reason. Why she would feel compelled to do something like that, Peter has no idea. But, he does know Michelle well enough to remember that she used to glare down at the thought of marriage.

“Sorry,” Peter grunts, after a brief pause.

“It’s alright, let’s just go,” Harry shrugs nonchalantly, “everyone’s real hungry.”

Peter only nods stiffly then follows Harry to the hotel lobby where their friends wait. In addition to Peter, Ned, Betty, Felicia, Gwen, and Johnny were the only ones who would be accompanying the engaged couple that night. Their parents (or aunt, in Peter’s case) had already gone out to dinner and the rest of the wedding guests weren’t close enough to Michelle or Harry to tag along.

Peter’s eyes briefly flicker to Michelle, lingering just long enough for him to spot her lopsided simper aimed towards him. His heart jumps joyously then sinks into the depths of his chest melancholily, prompting him to look away.

Sometimes, he swears her smiles were brighter, more relaxed, and more genuine as opposed to the tight-lipped grins she flashed at her fiancé.

“Where’re Liz and Miles?” Peter asks upon noticing the absence of his two friends.

“Miles said he was too tired,” Gwen answers, “and Liz already ate.”

He nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets, unsure of where to look. Before he can pick a spot to stare at, Johnny catches his attention with a clap of his hands.

“What’re we waiting for? Let’s go eat!” He speaks enthusiastically.

They all agree and Peter steals one more glance at Michelle— her sharp and calculative eyes, her flowing curls, her plump and unsmiling lips— before he tears his gaze away.

He wishes he could tell her how much he misses being her boyfriend. He thinks about the feeling of her lips against his and her hand grasping his palm every night— they always fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Are you still feeling sorry for yourself?” Ned asks somewhat teasingly as if he can read Peter’s mind— although, all he needed was to see Peter’s eyes lingering on Michelle.

“Psh, no,” Peter denies with a scoff.

Ned raises his eyebrows at Peter in disbelief. Peter sighs in defeat, knowing that he and Ned are at a point in their friendship where lying was impossible.

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” he admits shamefully.

“Man,” Ned sighs, “you need to move on—“

“I know, I know.”

“—Peter, I’m serious. She’s literally getting married”

“I can’t help it, Ned,” Peter insists, “I’ve tried so hard to get over her. And I almost have, but then...” he looks over at Michelle to see her smile and snort a laugh at something Gwen said, “then I look at her and fall in love with her all over again.”

Ned blinks, “dude.”

“I know,” Peter suspires and ducks his head in embarrassment, knowing how much of a Hopeless Case he is.

“You’re a mess,” Ned states it as a fact as opposed to a teasing joke.

Peter grumbles, “I know.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Soon enough, the friends arrive at a restaurant that Johnny insists is the best place he’s ever eaten. But, Johnny is far from a picky eater and claims every other restaurant he eats at to be the best place he’s ever eaten. Peter trusts his judgement though, but only because they’re in Italy— where all the food tastes amazing.

They’re seated at a large, outdoor table, given their menus, and left to arrange themselves. Ned takes his seat next to Betty, who sits next to Gwen, who claims her seat aside Felicia, who sits by Johnny, who opts to sit across from Peter and next to Harry, who sat across from Michelle (“so I can see your beautiful face,” he cheekily justified.)

Conversation is quickly struck up amongst the group of friends. Peter sighs quietly then looks to his left, his heart stopping in its tracks and his lungs being stripped of oxygen when he lays eyes on Michelle. His eyes widen a little as he stares at her, using the moment to take in every detail of her face— the texture of her skin, the highlights in her eyes, the shine of her lips.

“Hey,” Michelle mutters to Peter, resting her hand lightly on the back of his palm and keeping her voice quiet as to avoid interrupting the conversation around them, “are you okay? You look a little pale.”

Peter opens and closes his mouth a few times dumbly, as if he has forgotten how to speak. His heart pounds and his skin grows feverish were her hand lays; his head grows light as if he’s stood up too fast and, suddenly, he finds himself in high school once again.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he finally manages, his voice wavering.

“You sure?” She urges.

He nods quickly, “I’m sure. Are- um- are you okay?”

She raises an eyebrow and bobs her head, “do I look okay?“

“Y-yeah,” he stammers quickly, “you look really good.”

“Thanks, dork,” she chuckles and takes her hand away from his.

The corner of his mouth twitches into an unsteady simper and he manages to let out the breath that had been caught in the back of his throat. The warmth of her hand lingers on his skin and their gazes remain locked for a few moments extra.

Given the ability, Michelle would make everything look and feel as warm and sweet as Peter’s eyes were. Gazing into them feels like returning home to a lit fireplace and cup of hot chocolate on a cold, winter day. It makes her heart flutter and her face grow heated as she finds a small part of herself fighting away a yearning to be held by his protective, bulky arms.

He’s been so distant the past few years, but especially since they arrived in Italy together. She’s unsure if she’ll ever gain the courage to tell him (especially considering the fact that she’ll be wedded to Harry in just two days), but she can’t help but miss being his girlfriend sometimes. He always gave her the sweetest kisses and warmest hugs; her head fit perfectly on his shoulder and he never minded if she soaked his shirt with tears when she was having a hard time. And, if she’s really feeling brave, she can admit to herself that no one had made her feel loved in the way Peter had— that’s what had always made him stand out. Even Harry, who undoubtedly loves her, doesn’t make her feel quite like Peter had.

“I think everyone’s ready to order,” Harry observes, snatching up Peter and Michelle’s attention.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from Michelle, “I think so.”

Michelle meets her fiancé’s eyes and presses her lips into a thin smile. There it is, Peter thinks worriedly, there’s that fake smile.

Harry catches a waitress’s attention and the black haired woman paces over to their table. They each smile politely in greeting as she takes out her notepad.

“Buonasera, posso prendere i tuoi ordini?” the pretty waitress asks— good evening, may I take your orders?

“Sí,” Peter replies for his friends, being the most fluent in Italian.

He orders their meals for his company— excluding Michelle, who speaks for herself in near-perfect Italian. Peter’s eyes light up and he raises his eyebrows at her. She winks cheekily at him in response.

Peter wraps up the order then politely compliments the waitress’s curly hair, making her face flush and her lips spread into a smile. She sheepishly mutters “grazie mille” then left to relay their orders to the chef.

Despite knowing the compliment was merely for the sake of making the waitress smile (Peter loves to make people smile), Michelle can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. She misses Peter telling her how beautiful she is— he used to tell her everyday, making sure she never forgot.

“Sono colpito,” Peter praises Michelle— I’m impressed.

She smiles gently, “grazie.”

“Since when did you become fluent in Italian?” Betty asks Michelle, her voice bright— as always.

“I took some online lessons a little bit before we got here,” Michelle replies, then briefly glances at Peter, “I couldn’t let Peter be the only multilingual genius here.”

“Cute!” Felicia hums.

Peter flushes and Harry speaks up with a raised eyebrow, “I’m literally her fiancé?”

“Mm, right,” Felicia remembers, having momentarily forgotten why they had traveled to Italy.

The friends chuckle and Peter stirs in his seat, stealing a sideways glance at Michelle as he does so. His breath hitches and he quickly tears his gaze away when he sees her looking back at him.

Like all food in Italy, their dinner exceeds expectations. And as they eat, Harry seems to hold Michelle close. Somewhat physically, but mostly mentally— dragging her opinions into conversations, keeping his eyes locked on her as if to stop her eyes from trailing to Peter, reaching across the table to hold her free hand and making her smile that tight smile.

Peter can’t help but notice these things. He’s jittery with what feels like urgency, as though he’s had a window of opportunity gaping open for years, but now it’s shrinking and beginning to disappear. In two days— when Michelle marries— the window will be completely gone. Eating dinner aside his former lover is what does it for him— makes him realize how anxious he is and how badly his heart aches.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” Ned says later that night, when the sun has set and the friends have retreated to their hotel rooms.

“You do?” Peter raises an eyebrow and leans back in his chair.

He feels guilt roll around in his stomach like a boulder every time he talks to Ned about Michelle. He knows Ned must be tired of the subject and tired of urging him to move on. Ned’s set Peter up with a handful of dates— he’s the reason Peter dated Johnny for a few months— but, he grew to give up when he realized the only person Peter could love as deeply as he loved Michelle— was Michelle.

“Yeah,” Ned nods, “if nothing else, you can get it off your chest.”

“But she doesn’t feel the same way,” Peter assumes, running his hand through his hair, “wh-what if I freak her out? Or she doesn’t wanna be friends anymore?”

Ned shrugs, “then say it was a joke or something.”

“Dude-“ Peter pauses, then mulls over his friend’s words for a moment, “... that’s actually not a horrible idea.”

“I know,” Ned replies flatly, “I also know that this—“ he gestures vaguely to Peter “—isn’t healthy.”

Peter hangs his head and sighs, embarrassed, “I know.”

“And who knows,” Ned adds, “you might feel a lot better afterwards.”

“Or a lot worse,” Betty chimes in as she emerges from the kitchen with a jar of pickled olives.

“Betty, seriously?” Ned huffs as she casually pops an olive in her mouth.

“‘M jus’ sayin,’” she mumbles through a mouthful.

“No, no,” Peter waves Ned off, “she’s right.”

“You guys—“ she swallows the olive then settles on Ned’s lap “—where so cute when you were together.”

Peter chuckles softly and nods, sweet memories dancing in his mind, “yeah she was- she is pretty, um... pretty damn great.”

“When’re you gonna tell her?” Ned asks, wrapping his arms around Betty’s torso.

“Um...” he rubs the back of his neck, “I’m- uh- I dunno. Soon, probably.”

Neds nods then Peter stands up and stretches. Whether he’ll actually talk to Michelle one-on-one (or confess his feelings to her), is still somewhat of a mystery to him— despite telling his friends he would. There’s a rather high chance he chickens out and bails, but for now, he needs to think it through.

“I’m gonna go take a walk,” he announces, plucking his jacket off a coat rack.

“Alright, don’t get lost,” Ned jokes.

“Be back before your bedtime,” Betty adds.

“Gee thanks, guys,” Peter sighs semi-enthusiastically.

He ducks out the front door and drags his coat over his shoulders. As he trudges through the grand halls of the hotel, his head spins dizzyingly. His mind races and swirls while simultaneously feeling stagnant— as if he’s hit some sort of brick wall that he needs to tear down.

Mulling over his obnoxious emotions, Peter steps outside. The night air is cool and crisp, quickly refreshing and relaxing Peter’s tense body.

Before he can pick a direction to start his walk, Peter is stopped in his tracks by a commotion inside the hotel. His ears prick up and his head whips around to look at the front doors. If he’s unmistaken, what he’s hearing is an argument between Michelle and her fiancé.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me, MJ!” Harry demands, “let’s just talk about this!”

“I told you, you can’t bitch at me when I look at another guy!” Michelle snaps, “that’s all I have to say.”

Cazzo, Peter thinks sharply to himself as he sucks in a breath. He quickly looks away as Michelle storms out of the hotel. She’s quickly stopped by Harry who grasps her wrist tightly.

“Can you just calm the fuck down?” Michelle challenges, snatching her wrist away from him, “I’m not leaving you, I’m just going on a goddamned walk!”

“Fine,” Harry huffs, “just be back soon.”

“Whatever,” she mutters carelessly as her fiancé whirls around and storms away.

Peter forces himself not to look at her, although she is less than a meter away from him. Instead, he stares at his feet anxiously, as if Michelle won’t notice him.

“Oh shi- hey, Peter,” Michelle startles as she turns around to see him.

Peter quickly forces a more smooth, less awkward appearance as he looks up at her with a half smile, “ciao bella,” he cheekily greets.

She hums her amusement and smirks at him, “No wonder Harry’s freaking out about us.”

“What, he wants a threesome or something?” He jokes dumbly.

Michelle lets out a laugh, her mood immediately improves. It’s impossible for her to not loosen up a little around Peter.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She chuckles, giving his shoulder a playful shove.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “a lot of things.”

Seeing his goofy grin, Michelle feels her heart flutter and her cheeks grow a little warm. Even years after she first fell in love with that idiot, he still makes her blush with the tiniest things.

“You- um,” Peter shuffles his feet uncertainly, “you wanna go on a walk? I-if not-“

“No, I’d love to,” she quickly interrupts.

A joyed smile spreads across his lips, “awesome.”

With hearts skipping and smiles beaming, the two begin walking down the sidewalk with their fists stuffed in their pockets to resist the urge to hold each other’s hands. In the resting city, the two friends remain quiet as both are unsure of what to talk about. Peter wisely chooses not to mention the fight he overheard, figuring that it’s none of his business and Michelle will bring it up if she wishes.

While Peter overthinks every step he takes, Michelle stares at her feet as she considers her situation: engaged to a decent man she likes, while feeling infinitely stronger towards her friend— and ex-boyfriend. She’s so far deep in her relationship with Harry that she feels that it’s pointless to leave it, especially when their wedding was as close as it was.

Sometimes, she felt as though she had made a mistake by saying yes when Harry proposed. She had froze when it happened, trapped by the gaze of his father and her family— she couldn’t humiliate him in front of everyone. And once the wedding plans had been made (it had all happened too fast for her to process), it felt like it simply made sense to marry him.

But then there was Peter. Several years ago (it felt like a lifetime had passed since), he had broken up with her and shattered her heart in the process. At first she had furious with him, then she was just sad, and now she still got upset from time to time— when she thought too hard about it— but she mostly missed Peter. She had never quite been able to fall out of love with him, even when she was tied down with an engagement ring. She doubts he returns the feelings that she holds for him— the ones that make her face grow warm, her heart flutter, and her head spin. He can take her back in time to high school with a smile and make her feel like the same girl who’d fallen head over heals for him. She hates it.

“How’s everything with Harry?” Peter blurts, internally cursing himself the moment the words leave his mouth.

“Um...” her voice trails off as she looks for the words.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly corrects himself, “y-you don’t have to-“

“No, no— it’s okay,” she assures, “things with Harry are... I-I don’t really know. He’s fine— mostly. But tonight, he got all pissed off that I looked at you during dinner. And it’s not the first time he’s done this either.”

“Oh,” Peter frowns, “that seems like an overreaction.”

Michelle sucks in a breath and nods. If he knew how she really felt, he would see what Harry’s been upset about. Harry isn’t oblivious (unlike Peter seems to be), and he doesn’t miss the longing glances she casts in her ex’s direction or the beaming smiles she flashes him a little more than necessary.

“I mean, it’s-“ she cuts herself off with a shrug, “he’s just like that.”

Peter bobs his head slightly and averts his gaze to his feet. He notices they’re crossing a bridge now as they speak— it’s the first time he’s noticed their surroundings that night. Usually, when Michelle’s in the picture, everything fades out of focus but her.

Before his mind can spiral into a whirlwind of thought, he finds himself blurting a question he knows he probably shouldn’t ask— makes him sound like a jackass (or a dumbass, depending on who’s listening):

“Why’re you marrying him?”

“What?” Michelle stops in her tracks and looks at him, seeming mildly offended.

He stops with her and rushes to correct himself, “I-I mean- like- it just seems like—“ he pauses a moment to collect his thoughts— “it seems like you don’t seem to sure about all—“ he gestures vaguely— “this. But that’s just what it looks like to me. I could be wrong-“

“No, you’re not completely wrong,” she says quickly, “I’m a little... I-i don’t know. I guess it just seems like it makes the most sense.”

“‘It makes the most sense?’ Is he, like- paying you or something?”

“No!” She defends, “fuck no. What-“

“Hey, hey,” he holds out his hands submissively, feeling his face heat up a little “it was just a joke. I’m kidding.”

She sighs softly, “it was a bad joke.”

“Yeah, I know,” he rubs the back of his burning neck, “sorry. It just... kinda feels like maybe you shouldn’t be doing something just because ‘it makes sense.’”

She eyes him closely, her shoulders relaxed again, “what do you mean?”

“I mean I’m a spider-themed vigilante, Johnny sets himself on fire, Felicia is both our best friend and thief I’m supposed to stop every night, and I—” he stops himself before he can add ‘I’m in love with you’ to the list of oddities “—the only thing that makes sense here is the fact that Harry is rich despite never working a day of his life.”

Michelle hums softly in agreement then asks: “where are you going with this?”

He sighs and pauses a moment, “I... I guess I just don’t want you to go through with this and regret it later. But I-I dunno. It’s none of my business.”

She steps back and leans against the bridge’s railing. Peter watches her carefully, trying to guess what she’ll do next. He won’t show it, but he wants nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hold her close to his chest and kiss her a thousand times. It makes him anxious as he feels it all building up every second he spends with her. He’s hid his feelings like treasure for all too long and he’s so close to caving in and revealing them.

“It’s like you don’t want me to get married,” she observes.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he ducks his head and averts his eyes to the ground. His heart thunders in his ears and a rosy tint decorates his cheeks. He swallows thickly then lets out a shuddering breath.

Michelle’s eyes widen a little and her mouth falls open. His not-so-secret secret hits her in the chest like Thor’s hammer.

“You... don’t want me to get married,” she states and a small sense of almost-hopefulness flutters in her chest.

He shakes his head and shifts on his feet.

She eyes him closely, her heart pounding with anticipation. She thinks she knows the answer of what she’s about to ask next, but she’s unsure. Part of her hopes and begs that her suspicions are true, the other part of her dreads that she might be right and prays to no one that she’s wrong.

“Why not?” She asks, her voice shaky.

Peter takes a deep breath and gives himself a moment. He needs to think, clear his head, and- no. No, that’s the last thing he needs. He’s done too much overthinking and it’s all built up to this moment. He overthought their relationship, he overthought his feelings for her, he overthought and overthought and overthought and on and on and on— he could never seem to stop the racing of his mind.

But, in this moment, his mind finally slows to a halt. He looks up at Michelle and collects himself— only thinking about her.

Finally he confesses:

“Because I’m still in love with you.”

Michelle can only stare for a few beats. She can’t recall a time where she felt so much joy and disappointment in a single seconds. Her chest rises and falls, she wants to cheer and cry, her heart is heavy as led and light as air— all in the same breath.

Peter continues with sadness glossing over his eyes, “I know you don’t feel the same-“

“No, Peter,” she cuts him off with a wavering voice, “that’s the problem... I do.”

His eyes widen and a single word falls dumbly from his lips: “what?”

“I feel the same,” she says but it doesn’t satisfy her until— “I’m still in love with you too.”

Peter can only stare a moment, stumbling over his words as he finds himself breathless and his heart fumbles as if it’s forgotten how to beat. Even in his wildest dreams and fantasies— he could never imagine those words leaving her mouth.

“But I can’t be,” Michelle chokes out after a beat, drawing Peter’s attention to the conflicted tears in her eyes, “I can’t be in love with you—“ she runs her hands through her hair “—I’m supposed to be in love with someone else but I’m not a-and I can’t... I can’t... I can’t fall out of love with you.”

Peter leans back against the bridge and looks at her with pity in his gaze, “MJ, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” her head falls into her hands, “you’re not the one engaged to the wrong guy.”

Peter’s heart skips a beat at her words— ‘wrong guy’ implying that there’s a ‘right guy,’ and her eyes implying that the ‘right guy’ is the one she’s looking at. And they’re both looking at what could have and should have been their future. And they both hate and love it in the most odd, confusing, and twisted way.

“Y’know...” Peter begins, “I can think of at least three movies and six shows where this happens.”

Michelle laughs breathily yet there’s still sadness in it. Peter chuckles with her, a longing smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” Michelle chuckles, “it’s really fucking cliché.”

For a while longer, they gaze at each other, feeling as though a great burden has been lifted off their shoulders, only for another one to be placed atop their conscious. Their skin is itching with a yearning for each other’s touch and they can feel their hearts reaching for each other.

They can feel the strong longing radiating off each other and not a word needs to be spoken. Peter reaches for Michelle’s hand and she takes it gratefully. He pulls her to his body and stands on the tips of her toes, making a faint smile twitch onto Michelle’s parted lips.

There’s no hesitation between them as their lips collide, just as soft and warm and comfortable as they both remember. Michelle lets out a sigh of relief through her nose, cupping his face in her hands and tilting her head to the side as she’s greedy to feel more of him. Peter’s arms fall around her waist and, for the first time that night, his heart falls into an even rhythm. It’s calm and even as it slows into sync with Michelle’s own pitter-pattering heart.

It’s the first time in a long time they’ve felt at peace.

Slowly and hesitantly, they withdraw from each other. Michelle looks at Peter’s moonlit face through her half-closed eyes, taking in the tranquil look of bliss on his face. His eyes are still closed, his head still tilted to the side, and his lips still loose. She can’t remember the last time she saw him this relaxed.

Then the guilt hits her— and it hits her damn hard, like a punch to the chest.

Harry poured all this time and money into the wedding, all their friends and family have arrived in Italy, thousands of dollars of dresses and flowers and food and desserts have been picked out, their loved ones cleared their schedules just for this— just for Harry and Michelle. For her.

“Peter,” she says, her voice a whisper that urges him to open his eyes and look up at her, “this can’t happen.”

He blinks a few times, his expression melting into a frown, “MJ?”

She tilts her head to the side and cups his cheek in the palm of her hand. He leans into her touch, his attentive eyes never parting with hers.

“I can’t be with you,” she continues, seeing how her words break his heart, “did you really think I’d just leave with you?”

“I-i don’t know what I thought,” he admits shakily, “I guess I just... I don’t- I don’t know.”

She strokes his cheek with her thumb, “do you at least understand why I have to go through with this?”

His eyes trail off to the side and he nods slowly. But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why she should pretend to love someone she doesn’t or why she should worry about wasting Harry’s money when they both know that nothing could put a dent in his bank account or why- this isn’t a cliché movie or a poorly written show. That’s why. This is real life and even though they’ve confessed their love for each other, Michelle can’t automatically shut down an entire wedding just for him.

Michelle leans in to plant another kiss on his lips but he turns his head away. She stops and frowns but respects his wishes and steps away from him.

There’s a heaviness to each other’s presence. There’s a sadness in the air now, laced with longing and clouded with a mutual love for each other. There’s nothing left to do or say, so Michelle whispers:

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And walks away, back towards the hotel.

Peter watches her for a moment then looks away. He inhales a wobbly breath then shakily releases it. He knees are weak and trembling below him and his head spins dizzyingly, forcing him to drop into a crouch. He lets his head fall into his hands as his thoughts begin to race. He hates it when they do that.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, then he shouts it and he hates himself for disturbing the peace of the city.

“Fuck!”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Michelle lays awake almost all night beside Harry. She stares at the ceiling with a blank expression as she mulls over the events of the night.

She lets out a breath as she turns and looks at Harry who’s fast asleep and thinks he and Michelle talked things through. He thinks everything’s been settled and thinks Michelle has agreed to keep her distance from Peter, but Michelle still has no idea if she cares to uphold the one-sided promise.

She would love to make things as simple as Harry thinks they are— ignore Peter, get rid of any love she has for him, and give Harry her full attention— but she’s already tried doing that several times. It never works. Nothing ever works.

Michelle covers her face with her hands and draws in a deep breath.

“What the fuck am I doing?” She whispers to the ceiling.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Peter doesn’t arrive at his hotel room till much later in the night. When he enters his hotel room, he’s as quiet as possible only to find Ned and Betty awake on the couch with a movie playing. Ned pauses the television and looks over at Peter.

“Hey, man,” he greets tiredly, “did you talk to Michelle?”

“No,” Peter lies.

“Why not?” Betty asks with a frown.

“Because she’s probably in her room with Harry or something,” he explains, “it’s not like I’d go to their room and confess right in front of her fiancé.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Betty agrees.

“Do you wanna watch this movie with us?” Ned offers, “it’s in Italian and we can’t really understand it, but it’s still fun to watch.”

“Thanks, man,” he smiles lopsidedly, “but I’ll pass. I think I’ll just head off to bed.”

“Alright. G’night, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Ned. You too, Betty.”

With that he ducks into his room and plops onto his bed. He can’t help but regret every word he spoke that night. And, call him dramatic (he kind of is), but he isn’t sure how he’ll manage a casual conversation (or any conversation) with Michelle after all this. Maybe he’ll cut himself off from her, pretend this never happened, try to forget about her. He could move to Italy and- no, no. That’s too dramatic. Although Italy is nice.

He’s not even sure how it happens— maybe it’s the emotional exhaustion— but he falls into a deep and heavy sleep within an hour.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Michelle awakes at roughly five in the morning with a growling stomach and foggy head. She groans tiredly and pushes her hair out of her face.

“You awake?” She grumbles, barely audible.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, not looking away from whatever he’s doing on his phone.

“Can you make me some toast?” Michelle asks, still melted into her pillow.

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Um, no?”

She rubs her face, “you serious?”

“Yeah. I’m not making you toast at five in the morning,” he almost laughs, “you can do it yourself.”

She groans again and stretches as much as she can without invading Harry’s space. It’s going to be a long marriage, she thinks with a sigh, immediately knowing she should definitely not be thinking that.

She brushes it off, stands up, then makes her way to the kitchen in her pajamas. Despite being hardly awake, she’s already annoyed with Harry— she really isn’t asking for much from him. Not just with the toast, but with things in general. She wanted him to spend a little less time focusing on his work (never gonna happen); she wanted him to be a little more considerate (nope); she wanted him to be a little more relaxed when it came to her spending time with guy friends (naw).

Her toast pops up and she takes one look at the slab a bread before deciding to trash it.

“How the fuck?” She grumbles, gingerly picking up the blackened toast, “how did you burn? That was like, five seconds.”

She sighs and tosses the toast into the trash can, almost hoping it will make the entire room smell burnt just to piss off Harry. No, don’t think that. She corrects herself quickly as she leans against the island and closes her eyes lightly. Maybe Harry isn’t as bad as she’s making him out to be. He’s... fine. She can live with and tolerate him for a few years. With that thought, her mind brings back a memory of last year.

•

“You know, baby,” her aunt spoke gently as she braided Michelle’s hair, “I’m not trying to judge you or Harry-“

“Just get to the point,” Michelle muttered tiredly.

Her aunt sighed, “I’m gonna tell you the same thing my momma told me fifty years ago: you shouldn’t marry someone you can just live with, you should marry someone you can’t live without.”

Michelle closed her eyes lightly, “what’re you trying to say?”

“I know Harry loves you, but how much do you love him?”

“Enough.”

“But could you live without him?”

Michelle went quiet, having no will to reveal the answer. However, her silence was enough for her aunt— she knew the answer.

“I just want you to be happy,” she said softly as she tied off the braid and kissed the top of her niece’s head.

•

“Fuck,” Michelle whispers to herself as the memory fades.

Her aunt is right— always has been. She could live happily (probably even happier) without Harry. She was only wasting her own time by agreeing to be around him longer than she had too. Plus, it wouldn’t be fair to Harry for him to be married to a woman who doesn’t love him back. And yes, he had spent thousands of dollars on this wedding, but he could spend thousands of dollars on many weddings without denting his bank account. And yes, their friends and family had come all the way to Italy just for the wedding, but that was ultimately just a few days of their long lives spent in a beautiful city instead of cooped up at their shitty jobs. Also, Harry had paid for their flights, so it was hardly a loss on their part.

But, more importantly— she considers this as her gaze trails off to the bedroom door— she could never love Harry the way she loves Peter and has loved him for a long time.

And then there was that kiss. The warmest, most loving kiss she’s felt in a long time.

She thinks about that kiss a moment to long and suddenly there’s grin on her lips and her heart his pounding and her chest is swelling with joy. And suddenly her body’s moving without her even thinking about it.

She rushes out of her suite and down the halls and she skids to a stop in front of the room Peter shares with Ned and Betty. She quickly knocks on the door and Betty answers it a moment later.

“Oh! Hey, Em-“

“Is Peter awake?” Michelle interrupts.

Betty’s eyes light up instantly, “yeah, I think so.”

Without another word, Michelle shoves past her and Betty breaks into an excited grin as she watches her friend.

Peter’s door is cracked opened so Michelle only knocks lightly before stepping inside. Peter sits up quickly and his eyes go wide upon seeing her.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” she says weakly, unsure of how to say what she’s about to say.

He shakes his head, “no, you’re fine.”

“That’s… um…” her voice trails off.

Suddenly, before Peter can process, she’s across the room and in his arms as he holds her on his lap. She cradles the back of his neck in her hands and leans forward to kiss him. This time he doesn’t turn away and he lunges to connect their lips. This time the kiss is eager and a little sloppy— rushed, like they’re running out of time.

Michelle pulls away, her eyes wide and glistening as her chest heaves and her heart pounds with adrenaline. Peter stares back at her, wonderstruck and sporting a wide grin.

“I wanna get out of here,” Michelle states, determined and confident, “I wanna leave here with you.”

Peter’s heart flutters with so much joy, he swears he might cry.

“Are you serious?” He asks, just to make sure he heard her right.

“Yes, I’m serious,” she says sternly in a way that hits Peter in the chest and makes him laugh a little. “I wanna go— now.”

“Then let’s fucking go,” Peter cheers excitedly.

She peppers his face with light kisses for a quick moment and he doesn’t bother stifling his soft giggles as her lips tickle his cheeks.

The next moment, they’re up and off Peter’s bed and rushing out of his room and towards the front door. As Peter notices Michelle is still wearing no more than a skimpy tank top and pajama shorts, he stops and grabs his coat from the coatrack.

“Here,” he drapes it over her shoulders and she slides her arms through the sleeves.

“Thank you,” she smiles at him, her cheeks a little warm as she gratefully pecks the side of his face.

He grins at her and they hurry out the front door, holding each other’s hands like their lives depend on it. When they duck inside the elevator, they take the few seconds of privacy to litter each other’s faces in rushed, excited kisses.

Moments later, they’re walking as fast as they can without running through the hotel lobby.

“MJ, Peter!” They hear Felicia call, making them whirl around as their hearts stop.

Felicia has an apple in her hand from the free breakfast the hotel provides. Like every morning, she’s taking advantage of being an early bird so she can get to the best food before anyone else can.

“Where are you off too?” She asks casually.

“We’re- um-“ Peter glances at Michelle, “we, uh-“

“We’re leaving,” Michelle answers for him.

Felicia gasps excitedly, immediately realizing what’s happening, “oh my gosh, I love this trope!”

Peter laughs and Michelle rolls her eyes with a smile. From behind Felicia, Johnny tosses Peter two muffins that he catches swiftly.

“Don’t forget breakfast,” Johnny reminds with a grin.

“Thanks, man,” Peter says then his eyes widen a little with a realization and he looks at Michelle, “our stuff is still in our rooms—“

“Oh shit—“

“—I mean, I got my phone but that’s it.”

“We can get your stuff for you,” Felicia offers.

“Yeah, just text us a rendezvous and we’ll be there,” Johnny agrees.

“Awesome, thank you,” Peter gratefully replies, Michelle thanking them at the same time. “Love you guys.”

“Love you too, Pete,” Felicia laughs, “now get the hell out of here.”

“Right,” Michelle grabs Peter’s arm and they thank their friends once more.

Then, smiling like the idiots they are, they run out of the hotel together. They rush down the same path they walked along the night before, making it across the bridge where they kissed, and hurrying through the streets that are fairly empty.

They run until the hotel is long behind them and then a little further.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Michelle pants quickly.

Peter slows to a stop and Michelle stumbles to a halt beside him. He smiles at her and brushes her hair out of her face, still holding the muffins Johnny threw at him in one hand.

“Let’s sit down,” Peter nods to an elegant fountain that spurts water from several different tiers, “maybe figure out where we’re going.”

“Yeah,” Michelle laughs a little, breathlessly.

They sit on the edge of the fountain together and Michelle leans against Peter as she catches her breath. Peter rests his head on her shoulder and sinks into her gratefully.

The run may not have tired him out, but he was (up until five minutes ago) exhausted. Finally, as he breathes in the fresh air of the morning, he feels like he can rest— like he’s found real peace. He knows Michelle feels the same. She doesn’t have to say it, he just knows as he can practically feel the burden she just lifted off her shoulders.

“I have an idea,” Peter says softly after a moment.

“What is it?” Michelle asks, holding him close to her with an arm around his back.

“We should go to Paris,” he explains, “you’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower— and I’ve always wanted to kiss you there.”

Michelle looks down at him and he looks up at her. She grabs his chin lightly and gently molds their mouths together, unable to get enough of the feeling of his lips against hers.

“It’s perfect,” she says as she pulls away.

Already leaning in for another kiss, Peter smiles as he says: “let’s fucking do it.”

#spideychelle week #I forgot to post this yesterday #its still Monday if you’re tired enough #spideychelle #petermj #peter parker #spiderman #michelle Jones #mj #im so tired #spiderman ffh #spiderman hoco #harry osborn #fanfic

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official-wayward-keener · 3 years ago

Text

Let's Just Tell Her We are Just Roommates

@spideytorchweek 2021 Day 1: Roommates

Johnny and Peter are dating but Sue doesn't know. The two are moving in and Sue doesn't know that they are moving in because they are dating instead of them just being friends.

Read on Ao3 here

Peter knew it was Johnny’s right not to say anything to Sue but to drag him into this was low. Now Sue thought that Peter and Johnny were moving in to help Peter out. Which wasn’t a lie but there was more to it. They had been dating for a year and around Sue and Reed they were still friends not partners. They acted like best friends would and kept the kisses to themselves. The hidden touches that could read as something else. In the long run, it would have been easier to tell Sue and Reed but Johnny wasn’t ready so Peter just went along with it. May probably knew but May could guess something from a mile away. Same as MJ. Johnny didn’t know that nor was Peter going to tell him as he didn’t want Johnny worrying about it. He already had to help Johnny calm down when he was worried Sue figured it out. Though that was just because they almost got caught in the closet. It took a lot of convincing for Sue to believe the forced story that came from their mouth and those closet trips quickly stopped.

“Peter,” Sue said, getting him out of his mind and to the present. He was supposed to be moving a box but had spaced out.

“Sorry got lost in thought,” Peter admitted as Sue looked at him curiously.

“You have a lot to handle now with watching Johnny as well as actually taking care of yourself as well,” Sue said.

“Johnny is a pretty good cook and normally does a lot of cleaning. I think out of the two of us, he has more to handle with me being a total disaster,” Peter joked.

“He isn’t kidding either. Peter overworks himself most days,” Johnny told her, joining them. Sue seemed to nod but she kept watching Peter for the rest of the move. When they were done, she asked Johnny if he wanted to grab a bite and he agreed as he went to change. Peter sat down as Sue turned to him.

“You are invited as well,” she said.

“I think Johnny would prefer it better if I wasn’t there,” Peter said.

“He just moved in and he is already driving you crazy?” Sue asked.

“No,” Peter said.

“Is this about the secret relationship that I’m supposed to pretend doesn’t exist?” Sue asked. Peter looked down but nodded. “Thought so. My brother is always worried that I will cut off all ties but the truth is I could never cut off ties with him.”

“It’s not my place to say anything but I do agree with you,” Peter said.

“Agree with Sue about what?” Johnny asked to join them.

“That he would go to dinner with us,” Sue said. Johnny nodded as Peter got up knowing he couldn’t get out of this. Peter stayed by Johnny’s side as Sue led them to her car saying she would rather drive. Peter slipped into the back while Johnny rode in the passenger seat.

“Thanks again for helping me move,” Johnny said.

“Anything for my little brother,” Sue said. “It reminded me of the time I moved in with Reed. The first time at least.”

“How come?” Johnny asked.

“What do you mean by how come?” Sue asked.

“You were dating Reed,” Johnny said, hoping that would clear up his confusion.

“And you are dating Peter,” Sue said as if it was a fact. Peter wished he had faked being sick. Johnny went to argue but Peter decided to interrupt.

“What Sue means is that we are dating and she is just trying to tell you she supports you and that you should stop worrying. Now can we just talk about something else?” Peter didn’t mean to say it like that but Johnny seemed surprised as Sue paid attention to the road but still gave him the eyebrow raise.

“Are you okay with me being with Peter?” Johnny asked.

“I think that you can date whoever you want to and it's not my choice to say anything but Peter is a great guy and seems to know you better than anyone. If I had to choose anyone for you, he would have been on my list,” Sue said. “Though he does get lost in his head like Reed does, I would make sure he actually eats and sleeps.”

“Yeah that's kinda why we wanted to move in together. That and we were talking about trying living together before we got serious serious,” Johnny said as if he couldn’t say got engaged, which was their real plan.

“Well then I’m happy for the both of you,” she said smiling at her little brother. Peter didn’t know what it was like to have siblings. He never really had that experience unless you count Harry. Seeing the two was a nice change. It got him thinking of how having Sue as his sister-in-law would be nice.

“Now we just have to tell May,” Johnny told him.

“About that,” Peter said. “I think she already knows.” Johnny seemed surprised but Sue just smiled as Peter told her about her aunt. Sue told him that she would have to host a dinner so she could meet his aunt who would be Johnny’s aunt.

Johnny laid down next to Peter after a long day. Johnny had finally let his sister in and Sue was happy to know that her brother was in a healthy and loving relationship. Peter pulled him close letting Johnny relax as the two just laid there.

“Thanks,” Johnny said.

“For what?” Peter asked.

“Telling Sue for me,” Johnny said.

“I didn’t,” Peter said. Johnny looked at him confused. “She guessed it herself, I just didn’t deny it when she said it.”

“Then thank you for not denying it,” Johnny said.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to feel safe with your family,” Peter said.

“So does May know?” Johnny asked.

“That I’m bisexual, yes. That we are dating, I was waiting until you were ready to come out to Sue before I announced it to her but as I said in the car, I think she knows.” Johnny seemed to think about it before he looked at Peter.

“We should formally tell her tomorrow.” Peter rolled his eyes but said he would set up a meeting as Johnny snuggled up to Peter and closed his eyes feeling safe in Peter’s arms. Peter relaxed, glad to have Johnny living with him. It would be something interesting for him to get used to but he felt that in that moment he could get used to living with Johnny Storm.

#johnny storm #peter parker #spideytorch #spideytorch week 2021 #spideytorch week #roommates

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

THE MADNESS OF MR. CROUCH

Sirius still didn't really look like himself as he collapsed back into his seat, there wasn't enough energy around him like there should have been. It was clear to all, that the more that was shown of this after Azkaban Sirius, their Sirius would continue trying his very hardest to act in as exact opposite as possible in his efforts to prove it wasn't going to get to him. In fact, just to put himself in even a slightly better mood and keep as much attention off of him as he could for a time, he exclaimed, "I think we should give Lily a Marauder's nickname!"

"Why?" Remus chuckled, not knocking the idea, but laughing that this came out of the blue.

"I like it," James said at once, taking no time to warm to the idea. "She's been unofficial since her and I got engaged, this would make it official."

"And what would you suggest?" Lily wrinkled her nose at the boy's, feeling beyond flattered that they were doing this, but never missing a chance to tease them. "Mrs. Prong's? I think not."

"No, no, it's got to be better than that" James sighed, running his hand through his hair in thought. "What about Willow?"

"Isn't that a tree, why would you go with that?" Sirius snorted in surprise.

Quickly moving past, he kept shooting off, "What about Petal, she is my Lily flower."

"What about Doe." Harry offered with a faint smile, trying to restrain how immeasurably happy it made him to witness this. When he received a few blank looks, he shrugged and said, "What, it's a female deer, and you guys all got named for your animals, shouldn't she be the same?"

"Yeah, but that's not very subtle," Sirius said, his head cocked to the side in thought.

James snorted, "like Padfoot is? Or Prongs? Remus' is practically smack you in the face obvious."

"Well If I get one then so does Harry." Lily quickly shot off.

"What, no," he automatically tried to protest, going beat red in the face, but James waved him off at once saying, "but of course, I would have said something sooner, but I can't come up with a good one for him either."

"You really don't like Bambi?" Remus wheedled, a smirk still threatening to show.

"What's that got to do with a deer?" Sirius demanded.

Several other things got circulated, and Sirius sat back in satisfaction his plan had obviously worked, now trying to hide his own amusement at Lily correcting.

"-we are not calling him PJ, or MJ for that matter, come up with something more original."

"If you like referring to a baby deer so much, let's call you Fawn," Remus shot at her.

"That's as ridiculous as you trying to call James Comet, or Prancer. What's with all the deer themes?" Sirius insisted. "What about Wildfire, or Brighteyes. Both compliment her physically, and you know those would translate into her animagus."

"I like Roan, as my actual guess for the deer she'd turn into would be a red deer," James offered. "And what about Fleetfoot for Harry? Deer's run on their toes, it fits." *

Sirius was clearly fixing to return with something else, but then Lily finally cut across and insisted, "I was going to serve lunch after this next chapter, if you actually want to eat why don't you get along to the book mister."

Sirius pouted at her for ruining his fun, but the hold of food over his head finally won out and he forcefully started his chapter with only a bit of unease still lingering in him.

The three of them went up to the Owlery the next day to send that letter to Percy, using Hedwig to give her something to do.

"You'd think she'd enjoy the time off," James rolled his eyes.

After that, they went down to the kitchens to give Dobby his new socks, the elf was ecstatic.

Lily was beaming with pleasure, so proud of her boy for turning around and giving Dobby back something for all the help he'd given.

Squealing about how Harry Potter was too good to him.

"Nah, he deserved them," Remus smiled, "otherwise it really did seem like you weren't going to be doing that task."

Harry didn't disagree, but still he asked, "How do you think Dobby even knew to grab that for me?"

"He mentioned he heard the teachers talking about it," Lily reminded, "so he probably got the idea from them and filched it from Snape. Does not seem out of character for him to do anything to help you."

Harry agreed, but still couldn't quite erase that nagging feeling he had that he was missing something from this exchange.

Harry returned that Dobby had saved his life with that gillyweed,

"Maybe literally," Sirius muttered to himself, none of them still wanting to think what would have happened to Harry if he hadn't completed that stupid task.

while Ron asked for more eclairs.

Hermione scolded he'd just eaten breakfast,

"And why should that stop him?" James demanded of no one. "Are you telling me she doesn't eat dessert after every meal?"

yet another platter full of eclairs had already appeared via the other house-elves.

Harry asked if perhaps they should ask for even more extras to take back for Snuffles.

"Yes," everyone but Sirius instantly agreed, while he honestly looked disappointed at Harry.

"A little conspicuous don't you think? Food isn't usually sent to the mountains."

"Shut it and say thank you," Remus snapped instantly, squirming in unease that Sirius was starting to act as paranoid as he was in the future.

Ron agreed to the idea at once, they could use Pig so he could have something to do. The house-elves were already scurrying around for the order.

"Even Hermione can't argue with the good of that," Lily smiled.

Hermione turned back to Dobby and asked how Winky was doing?

Dobby's enthusiasm vanished at once as he gestured to the fireplace, where at first the elf was indistinguishable from the blackened bricks.

"Eesh," James muttered in disgust. House-elves were normally very clean creatures, it was in their nature, and the thought of one falling this far really boggled his mind.

Her clothes were falling apart they were so unkempt, and she had several empty butterbeer bottles all around her, a mostly empty one in her hand as she swayed on her stool.

Dobby told that she was drinking at least six of those a day.

"Is she actually getting drunk off of it?" Harry asked in surprise, thinking there must be something really odd for house-elves to be having reactions to a nonalcoholic drink.

"I honestly have no clue," Sirius raised a brow in surprise, "I've never known one to drink it. They usually just eat whatever they're masters say they can, and I've never known one to allow them to have a butterbeer."

Harry told that it shouldn't be strong enough, but Dobby corrected it was to their kind.

All of the elves around them now were giving disapproving looks to the pair of house-elves as they began edging away to perform other works.

Dobby continued explaining that Winky was still pining for her old master, she hadn't accepted Dumbledore as her new one yet.

Lily gave a pitiful sigh for the poor thing, also wondering on if Dumbledore knew how bad she was? She liked to think he wouldn't really leave her down in the kitchens to mope all day like that, but then again, what else would he be expected to do with her? He'd hardly kick her back to the streets.

Harry got a sudden idea about Winky, and turned to ask her if she knew what Crouch might be up to these days.

"I can't see how she would," Remus said in surprise, the former house-elf of the guy had never even crossed their mind. "Crouch only started acting like this loony self after he sacked her."

"I'm sure Hermione would just love to point out how much he deserves this just for that," Sirius smirked.

Further talk of Crouch was not making anyone better, and though it wasn't the elf's fault at all, they were all desperately hoping Harry would drop this very soon so they could move away from this.

Winky focused bleary eyes on them as she hiccupped her way through asking about her master not coming up to school anymore?

Harry confirmed he'd heard reports about him being ill, and Winky began sobbing how Master needed his elf!

Hermione tried to cut in, saying plenty of people got along with their housework.

"Well sure, but magic just can't do everything," James sighed, his mind flickering back sadly to his mum always giving him chores on his holiday. Now that she was gone, he was surprised how much he missed the menial tasks, and her lectures that elbow grease was as good as any spell he would try using.

Winky was distraught at the notion that was all she did, still hiccupping at every other word about how she kept his trust and his most important secrets.

Sirius rolled his eyes in derision at the idea of, "who confides anything in a house-elf? I can't imagine Crouch using her like a diary. Sure he'd talk openly with her around since she couldn't go spreading whatever he told her not to, but I think she's exaggerating her own worth now."

Lily gave him a hateful look for that, he still somehow managed to sound far to condescending of the house-elf kind.

Harry was on his mum's side, there was something very ironic in Sirius thinking house-elves shouldn't be bothered with secrets and tasks...

Harry tried to ask for more, but Winky glared mutinously at Harry, telling him off for being nosy in between her slurring.

Dobby jumped to Harry's defense at once, telling Winky off for calling Harry Potter nosy!

"Well this is certainly interesting," Remus couldn't stop a curious smile lighting him. "House-elf versus house-elf, against two people who aren't even technically their masters."

"I'm sure you'd just love to do a whole study over this," James snorted.

"I'll admit, this is fairly unique," Sirius agreed.

Going on to say Harry Potter is brave and noble, and not nosy!

Despite his own blushing at the praise, even Harry couldn't stop a light laugh along with the others at that last trait he'd own up to.

Winky was being adamant, still hiccupping after every word about how he was putting his nose in her master's business, but Winky kept her silence no matter who asked-

Sirius was going cross eyed with annoyance at having to read so many hic's. Couldn't someone shout boo at her already and scare that off, Winky was certainly tipsy enough she'd fall for it.

then suddenly she slid off the stool and fell to the ground snoring.

"Or that," Sirius said aloud with a happy little laugh, refusing to explain himself to the others just to annoy them.

The now empty bottle rolled away, and a few house-elves came over to tuck a blanket around her, hiding her from sight.

"I'm sure that's their favorite part of the day," James shook his head, "when they can put her in her place."

"You two are depressing me," Lily scolded them both, still trying to find the sweetness in the gesture they were putting a blanket over her even when they didn't like her.

One elf turned to apologize for Winky, asking they not think of the lot of them like her.

"Hermione's the only one who's trying to," Remus had an odd look in place, "which is ironic, considering she's trying to force them all to act that way and not acknowledge they all have rather unique personalities."

"Honestly hoping you two have a discussion about this someday," Sirius told him honestly, if only for the fact that would mean Remus was back in the picture at all.

Hermione tried to explain for the poor thing that she was unhappy, couldn't they try helping rather than just covering her up.

The elf shook its head, saying they were too busy to be unhappy, there was work to be done and masters to be served.

"Well that was just depressing," Lily sighed, having finally admitted that though house-elves seemed to live for their work by their very nature, couldn't they at least have a side hobby or something. They shouldn't have to live for their work twenty-four seven, and should be allowed to grieve or other instances when the time came. Then she honestly wondered if, like Dobby's unique reaction in being happy of his freedom, was Winky even having these emotions at all just as circumstantial? Had studies ever even been done to show the emotional range of these creatures? She'd never heard of one, and now added it to her list of growing projects.

Hermione lost her temper on them, telling all within ear shot to listen to her, they had just as much a right as wizards to clothes and wages!

Sirius sighed and rolled his eyes, wishing he'd taken the time in that cave to talk about house-elves with Hermione rather than Crouch.

Just look at Dobby!

Dobby begged her to leave his name out of this.

"I don't blame him," James was surprised at himself how upset he felt on Dobby's behalf, the poor guy was already an outsider by his kind, Hermione was only making it worse just then.

All of the happy smiles around them vanished at Hermione's declaration, and were suddenly eyeing her as if she were mad.

"From their perspective, she is," Remus agreed.

An elf appeared from the crowd with a ham, and a dozen cakes for Harry to leave with.

Despite the paranoia ringing in the back of Sirius' mind, he wasn't going to deny how warmed he was at Harry considering him like that, ham always sounded better than rat.

Then said ungraciously good-bye, and many tiny little hands were forcing all three of them out of the kitchens.

"Wow, George's prediction came true, Hermione did start a riot in the kitchens," James raised a brow.

"Just in the opposite way of how she meant to," Remus shook his head.

"Credit, we've never been thrown out before, so you did something else we never have," Sirius couldn't stop a bit of laughter.

Dobby called one last thank you for the socks as he vanished from sight.

Ron was angry with Hermione at once, pointing out they wouldn't like them visiting anymore.

"And why would that stop you coming back?" Sirius asked. "You can still pop in and visit, they'd just be a little more bitter about being polite. It's still in their nature to serve you though."

They could have tried to find out more about Crouch from Winky.

"I don't see that happening though," Remus disagreed.

Hermione snapped he didn't care about that, he just wanted more food.

"Yes, and?" James asked, wondering what other reason there was.

The two were irritable for the rest of the trip back upstairs, so Harry went off alone to send the food to Sirius.

"Here I thought you said you were used to it," Lily sighed.

"Doesn't mean I always enjoy hearing it," Harry shrugged.

Pigwidgeon was too small to take the lot, so Harry got a couple of school owls to help.

Sirius still couldn't stop a grimace, the more owls the more obvious the delivery and only proving his point further.

Once they were out of sight, Harry leaned against the windowless ledge and stared out into the grounds, Hagrid's cabin visible. The man was out front his hut, digging up what looked to be a new garden.

"Wouldn't be that surprised," Lily smiled happily, thinking she'd have loved nothing more than to listen to Harry simply watching the going on's of the grounds for hours from his perspective, it would have been far more enjoyable than half the death defying stunts he was usually in otherwise.

Maxime soon made an appearance,

They all got a haughty look about them for that at once, none of them wanting to hear from her after the way she treated Hagrid, and honestly half convinced it was still her fault he'd ended up in the papers like that.

and looked to try talking to him, but Hagrid hardly spared her a glance, and she soon left.

"I'm loving all the colorful things he could have said to her," Sirius gave a not so happy smile.

Lily liked to think Hagrid would have been a bit more of a gentleman and just kindly told Maxime to move along, but honestly she wouldn't put it past him to say something worse either, she sort of deserved it.

Instead of going back to the Tower, he instead stayed late into the night watching the lawns until everything faded to black.

By breakfast Ron and Hermione's argument had ceased, most likely because despite Ron's prediction, breakfast was as good as ever.

"I could have told you that," James chuckled happily.

Harry loaded his plate with all the bacon and eggs he usually did.

Sirius groaned and rubbed at his stomach, food had been mentioned far too often already for his stomach's liking.

Lily sighed, she knew that was coming, and decided she really would start thinking about lunch after this chapter.

Mail arrived on time, and Hermione began looking around expectantly.

When asked, she told that she'd taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet.

"Honestly I'm stunned it's taken her this long to do so," Remus agreed, "I'd half expected her to do it back in first year when she first found out about them."

She was sick of getting all the news from the Slytherins.

"And there's that," Sirius nodded along, thinking it was poor form on Harry's part to always have to wait on his enemies to find out these important things going on.

An owl did indeed arrive for her, but so did half a dozen others.

"Err?" Lily said in surprise.

"Did Hermione subscribe to a few other papers as well," Sirius tried to say before trailing off in confusion.

Harry asked how many subscriptions she'd gone for, but Hermione had no clue what was going on as she tore open an envelope. Then she blanched.

"That's not an encouraging start," James winced.

She quickly flipped the paper around to show them, and it wasn't a handwritten letter, but a jumbled note clipped from newspapers detailing what a wicked girl Hermione was toying with Harry's life.

"Ouch," all five of them winced for poor Hermione.

"I can't believe this," Lily snapped, "people are actually sending her hate mail? Because they think they have the whole story when they've never even met her."

"Welcome to the media," Remus reminded bitterly, "where people will instantly believe the worst."

Hermione was going through even more, getting angrier with every one that was just like the previous. Then she got to one that made her yelp in pain as a yellowish liquid came pouring out over her hands, causing her skin to boil.

"What the bloody-" James began in outrage, thinking if someone had actually sent Hermione a cursed letter for this mess Skeeter had started than someone was really going to have a problem from him.

One sniff showed it was bubotuber pus.

"Oh that poor thing," Lily crooned, already having to fight down the urge to shield Hermione and rush her off for help, she could only imagine how painful that was.

"I'm going to hex someone's brains out," Sirius growled at anyone doing that to a kid. Hermione hadn't always been the top of his favorite people, but even he'd never disliked her this much, and all over a stupid article!

Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes with pain as she tried to wipe it off, but her fingers were already swelling and sores were appearing in her skin.

Harry was starting to go red with rage that someone had caused that kind of pain in his friend, when she hadn't done anything to deserve it, and this was all Skeeter's fault!

Harry promised they'd tell Sprout where she was as she sprinted off for the hospital wing, while Ron whispered that he'd warned her.

"Is now really the time for I told you so's?" Remus demanded.

"He's paying back Hermione for all the times she's done it to them," Sirius sighed.

He was still sorting through the opened letters, clearly worrying as he told that she'd better watch out for herself.

"Or just not open any mail any time soon," Lily agreed through gritted teeth.

"I for once actually wish Hogwarts would screen these kids mail or something," James shook his head with depression. "Even Death Eaters never sent cursed mail to students."

They went through Herbology subdued without their friend, and traipsed down to Care of Magical Creatures in the same mood, which didn't improve when the Slytherin's were seen approaching. Pansy was already giggling and whispering about something, and her mood only seemed to improve when she called to Harry where his girlfriend was? Why had she run out of breakfast crying, had they broken up already?

"I don't believe Pansy's ever had the pleasure of knowing what bubotuber pus can do to you," Remus began pleasantly enough.

"There's an egregious lapse on her part," James agreed with a heavy smile, "I do hope someone passes along the message to a set of twins. She really needs to be set right."

Sirius thought that was being too kind, he wished he could be the one to set the lot of those Slytherin's right, but it was a good starting point.

Harry turned away to ignore her, not wanting to give the satisfaction of knowing how much damage that article had done.

Last lesson had ended with Hagrid promising they were done with unicorns, and the fact that the first thing Harry spotted was more boxes this time wasn't encouraging.

"Err oh," Sirius hummed, fear that the skrewts had somehow created another clutch of eggs. They'd all really been hoping Hagrid had learned his lesson before.

Harry's first thought was more skrewts, but once he got a look inside, he saw fuzzy little black creatures with long snouts and feet like spades, all blinking up at them happily enough.

"Nifflers," Remus beamed at the admittedly adorable mole like creatures of havoc. "I've always loved the root word of them, niff, which means to pilfer. They were originally bred by Goblins to help them in their search for-"

Lily reached over and placed her hand over his mouth with an obvious look, while he pouted and jerked away.

Sirius wasn't even bothering to hide his laughter, they'd all told Remus more than once not to go spouting off those kinds of facts until after Hagrid had explained whatever so that they wouldn't have to hear repeat information.

Hagrid greeted them all, before saying today's lesson was over nifflers. They were found in mines and loved sparkly stuff, one such even demonstrated by suddenly leaping to its feet and going for Pansy's watch. She shrieked and jumped away just in time.

All five of them laughed at that, it was small payback but dearly loved.

Hagrid was still going, saying these little treasure detectors had a job today. Each of the students were going to pick one, and they were going to find the coins Hagrid had buried over there.

He gestured to the upturned soil Harry had seen Hagrid working on yesterday.

"Never let anyone say Hagrid doesn't do interesting lessons," Sirius vowed, his eyes shining with light at this. "All Kettleburn did was a demonstration for us, had a gold coin being moved around while the creature followed it."

After a warning for them all to tuck away their own shiny valuables, Hagrid promised a prize to the person who got the fastest niffler, and then they all stepped forward to pick one.

Harry picked one up curiously, and its long snout at once went sniffling around his ear.

Lily giggled childishly, at the image.

James couldn't resist making the crack, "good luck of it finding anything in there."

"Gee thanks," Harry laughed.

It was really quite cuddly.

"No we're not getting one Lily," James said at once when she looked to asking. "Ask him why not," gesturing at Remus to continue.

He crossed his arms and gave them all a look that plainly said, 'oh, now you want me to talk?'

"Well, just take my word for it then," James concluded.

Hagrid did a quick count before they began and realized they had an extra, asking where Hermione was?

Ron explained she'd had to go to the hospital wing, while Harry promised he'd give details later, Pansy was listening.

"Guess I'm just happy she didn't witness it," Lily sighed, "it would only make things worse."

The class was highly entertained as the little creatures went diving in and out of the dirt like water, always coming up with a new clutch of coins. Ron's was by far the fastest, his lap was soon filled with the gold.

"Good for him," Sirius beamed, thinking as small as it was, it was good for him to have even this small little win.

Ron was enthused with the idea of even buying one for himself.

James was all the more pleased Ron had now asked, since Moony was giving them all the silent treatment.

Hagrid at once deterred what a bad idea it was, they were house wreckers.

"He could have gone into a lot more detail," Sirius said, giving Remus an obvious look, "but picture that thing going into every corner of your house collecting anything it wanted and tucking it away. You can't really train them either."

Lily deflated on the idea, even if she did still want to see one in person eventually.

By the time all the coins had been found, Hermione made her slow approach, her hands heavily bandaged.

Hagrid didn't notice at first as he was telling off Goyle for trying to tuck his coins away into his pockets,

"Why am I not surprised?" James rolled his eyes in disgust.

saying it wouldn't do him any good as it was leprechaun gold, it would vanish in a few hours.

"I'm actually not surprised by that," Sirius agreed, it didn't seem like Hagrid to be playing around with real money.

Ron's niffler had indeed won, and he was presented with a large bar of chocolate.

"Best prize he could get," Sirius smacked his lips in appreciation.

Class was dismissed, and the three of them hung behind, Harry and Ron making sure all the nifflers were put back in their boxes while Hermione told Hagrid what had happened.

Harry spotted Maxime looking out her carriage window at them.

"Serves her right," Lily huffed, she hoped Maxime regretted this forever.

Hagrid shook his head sadly for her, telling her not to worry too much about it, he'd gotten the same hateful letters about him at first.

"What is wrong with people?" Lily flushed anew with hatred. "He didn't ask for his parentage, Hermione never got to tell her side, but these people can just send those terrible, possibly dangerous things. What if Hermione hadn't been able to go to the hospital wing?"

"I wonder if that pus would even have any effect on Hagrid's skin," James scratched absently at his face in thought, then flinched away from his wife who was sending him a very obvious 'that wasn't my point'!

Hermione was shocked as Hagrid quoted a few, but Hagrid brushed it off as them all being nutters. Hermione would do well to just burn the lot if they came again.

On the way back to the castle, Harry told Hermione about the lesson she'd missed.

"Oh that's right Harry, just rub it in," Sirius rolled his eyes.

Ron didn't speak the whole time on the way to lunch, and Harry jokingly asked if he'd gotten the wrong flavor chocolate?

"No such thing," James shook his head at once.

Ron instead asked Harry why he'd never mentioned the gold?

"Why would Harry tell Ron about the leprechaun gold?" Lily asked in surprise.

"Harry didn't even know," James suddenly recalled telling him this back at the Cup.

"Was Ron planning on stealing some?" Sirius asked redundantly.

Harry asked what he meant, and Ron elaborated all that leprechaun gold he'd given at the Cup to pay back those Omnioculars. Harry hadn't ever mentioned it disappearing.

"Uh oh," the five of them muttered, even Remus involuntarily as they all realized this was coming pretty late after the fact, but it still might upset Ron.

Harry had to cast his mind back to realize what Ron meant, that then quickly pointed out he hadn't noticed till much later, he'd been busy looking for his wand.

Ron stabbed at a potato as he bitterly said how nice it must be to be so rich you didn't notice a pocket full of Galleons going missing.

Harry opened, then quickly closed his mouth sheepishly. Truth be told, the thought never had crossed his mind again, as he'd just defended he'd been far more concerned about his wand, and then after the whole event seemed spoiled.

"Ron's just being too sensitive," Remus sighed, breaking his silence, he was getting bored anyways. "I doubt he would have noticed either if it had been his wand."

"It speaks," Lily grinned.

"Apparently about anything other than Magical Creatures," he rolled his eyes at the lot of them.

Harry tried to remind Ron about the important rest of that night, but he was still stuck. Saying Harry shouldn't have given him that hat for Christmas.

"Oh come on, don't tell me Ron's really going to linger on this," Sirius pouted.

"It really was just an unfortunate happenstance," James winced in agreement.

Harry instead tried to convince him to forget about it, but Ron bitterly stated that he hated being poor.

"How do you even respond to that," Lily muttered to herself, keeping her voice low enough Remus wouldn't hear as he'd clearly realized he'd chosen a poor moment to speak up again, he knew better than anyone this wasn't a feeling you ever really just got over.

Continuing he couldn't blame Fred and George for what they were doing, trying to earn some money. He wished he could go buy a niffler and get rich.

"Would not make his situation any better," Remus sighed, "not all the shiny things they find are worth money."

Hermione tried to make a joke they'd be sure to get him one for next Christmas then, but when he still didn't look any better, she instead pointed out it could be worse, he could have bubotuber all over his fingers.

"There's the bright side," James tried for a winning smile.

Hermione was having difficulties eating her own meal, her hands so swollen she couldn't maneuver her fork and knife.

"She should have just had soup that night," Sirius winced.

"I don't think curling her fingers around a spoon would be any better," Lily sighed.

She dropped them quickly enough and burst out in anger how she was going to get that Skeeter woman back.

"Can not wait to hear that," they all agreed enthusiastically, Harry more than anyone with utter conviction it would happen.

Over the next few days, hate mail did continue to come for her, but in Hagrid's advice she tried to get rid of it all. That didn't always work, as some sent howlers, which screamed at her loud enough that the whole hall knew of the event even if they hadn't read about it.

Harry was trying to encourage her it would all die down, like that stuff about him had.

"Still infuriating they believe it at all," Lily snapped.

Hermione was still furiously curious how she was even doing it, listening in on these things when she shouldn't have even been there.

"Hopefully something illegal enough Skeeter won't ever be able to write again," Sirius grumbled.

Harry had an absent smile of agreement in place, thinking on how right Sirius was.

She hung back in their next DADA class, though no one else did as they sprinted for the door. They'd all been treated to Twitchy Ear hexes, Harry still having to hold his down to stop them moving.

"What on earth is the point of that spell?" Harry muttered in agitation. It was certainly annoying, but hardly the best tool he'd heard of for Defense.

"Some spells are created for the sole purpose of not actually having a bad impact when landed," Remus happily answered, and Harry had a flashback to Professor Lupin now more than ever. "When you learn a shield charm and such, you only hope if the spell doesn't work, it won't leave you harmed as much."

Harry nodded in understanding, knowing he'd never have asked Moody such a question, he was too afraid to ask the old Auror what the point of any spell was the way he went on.

Hermione caught up to them, made sure Harry could still hear through his clamped ears, and told that she'd asked Moody, he hadn't seen her anywhere near the judges table, cloak or otherwise.

Ron asked if there was any chance she'd drop this?

"Why would she?" Sirius asked, aghast with once at Ron.

"So she doesn't get even more hurt," Lily sighed, some lingering fear for Hermione still there she could be getting in over her head, going after such a powerful woman with such a following. There was always the chance even if Hermione did find something out, it had to be something so irrefutable Skeeter couldn't write it off as the payback of a 'silly little girl.'

Hermione snapped no at once, she was going to find out how she'd heard all that stuff!

Harry offered maybe Skeeter was bugging people.

Harry felt his tongue curling in his mouth, his jaw doing a wonky number in regret of himself saying that for some reason... and was thankfully distracted from his own dilemma by his dad cocking his head to the side in confusion.

Sirius said back, "I'll explain if the book doesn't in a second," thinking Ron wouldn't know any better than Prongs.

Ron asked what good fleas would do?

James gave a happy little laugh, both that he hadn't been the only one to not get it, and that had been what he was thinking.

Harry explained about recording devices while Hermione shot down the idea.

James pouted, but admitted he was fine with the answer for now even if he was interested for more.

Demanding to know if they were ever going to read Hogwarts, A History?

"Why would they?" Remus smirked, "she clearly has it memorized, they can just go to her for it."

Ron asked why they'd bother, since she knew the whole thing.

"Shut it Padfoot," Remus said instantly before Sirius could mock him.

Hermione answered that electrical devices didn't work at Hogwarts, they went haywire around so much magic.

"Is that why Hogwarts doesn't have phones?" Harry asked in surprise. He'd always thought the castle was just being traditional with the owls and such, not that there was an actual reason for them.

"Yep," Lily agreed, "even outside of Hogwarts, in just plain wizarding houses, anything that relies too heavily on electricity won't work. It's why purebloods are so unaware of them in general, it's not that they refuse to learn about them, they've just never come across them."

"I can vouch for that," James nodded along.

Rita wasn't using anything muggle, if only Hermione could figure out what she was doing.

Ron pointed out they had enough to worry about without adding a vendetta to the list.

Hermione snapped they didn't have to help, she'd figure it out on her own!

Harry did honestly feel bad for her, he knew he and Ron would have tried to help if they could, but they were a little too worried about the payback Rita had already done. That's all they needed was for even more bad things to arise and hit them, but clearly Hermione cared nothing for the consequences.

She marched off, and Harry had no doubts she was heading for the library.

"I agree," Remus chuckled.

Ron asked what the odds were she'd come back with I Hate Rita Skeeter badges.

"I'd wear that prouder than a S. P. E. W. badge," Sirius said with chipper.

"IHRS actually sounds pretty cool anyways," James agreed.

Hermione didn't ask for their help again on the subject, and both were grateful as they didn't have the time to help if they wanted to. Both were hardly treading in their mountain of homework.

"I'd rather find ways of revenge than focus on homework," James scoffed.

Harry didn't understand how his friend had the time for anything extra as he focused on his workload. Still, he made time at least several times a week to send more food up for Sirius.

Sirius couldn't stop a little hitch of gratitude in his throat for that no matter how much he insisted it was unnecessary aloud to him.

Harry just gave him a challenging look back, stating, "If you're going to be sticking around me at your own risk, the least I can do is help however I can."

Sirius could have kept arguing, but he was so touched, and honestly it was a moot point as of right now.

After last summer, Harry had not forgotten what it felt like to be continually hungry.

Lily shivered slightly as she avoided looking at both boys for a moment, growing more and more wary the longer the parallels between those two continued. She'd never wish anything remotely like Sirius' life on Harry, yet that's what seemed to keep happening.

He kept sending notes as well, telling there was nothing new and they were still waiting on a reply from Percy.

It came in the form of Easter Eggs, passed along from Mrs. Weasley and Percy at once. The boys were the size of dragon eggs and filled with toffee. Hermione's was hardly bigger than a chicken's egg.

"Oh she didn't!" Lily burst, turning the growing worry she had for Sirius into outrage on this. "Molly did not really believe this of Hermione!"

"I'm not that surprised," James crinkled his nose up in agitation, "if she believed that tosh about Harry the first time, she'll believe anything."

"I do not understand this woman," Sirius shook his head sharply, "she knew what was written about her own family wasn't true, but readily believes the same woman about kids she should know better!"

Hermione eyed the egg for a long while before asking Ron if his mum could have read that article?

Ron said it was a possibility, around a mouthful of toffee.

Remus shook his head pitifully at Ron not taking a bleeding hint, he really thought that the friend should have offered his own egg in compensation for his mother acting like a prat.

Harry distracted her by reading Percy's letter, which was short and irate.

"It takes talent to make a letter irritated," Sirius agreed.

Stiffly written out that as he told the Prophet, Crouch was taking a well-deserved break. He knew his boss's hand writing of course, so he knew the instructions he was being given were genuine. Please stop spreading rumors otherwise, and don't contact him again unless it was important. He at least signed off with a Happy Easter.

"A very happy holiday to you too," James huffed, even with Percy gone he'd still managed to be an irritation to them all with his unhelpfulness.

The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harry was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season.

"Don't remind me," Sirius groaned like he had a bad stomach ache, missing that sport even more with all the stressful things they'd been dealing with lately.

Instead the approach of the last task was coming, brought up by McGonagall telling him to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine.

"Why?" James narrowed his eyes, with some excitement and some worry he wasn't even sure himself.

"It's a big, obvious place the foreigners can find?" Lily offered, though honestly the Entrance Hall would make more sense if that was so.

"Anybody else wondering why all the events are on the 24th of their month?" Remus asked to try and change the subject.

"To be extra cruel, leaving them at the end of the month," Sirius muttered belligerently.

Bagman would be there with further instructions.

"Why did it have to be him?" James huffed, this night getting worse and worse as that's all he wanted, more paternal advice from Bagman.

At the set time, Harry headed down and met Cedric on the way. He asked if he had any ideas what was coming, and Cedric told that Fleur had been telling him about some tunnel challenge, they'd be looking for treasure.

"Wonder where she pulled that from?" Remus asked in surprise.

Harry said he could deal with that, he'd just ask Hagrid to let him borrow a niffler.

Lily had a little vindictive smile in place as she said, "I think Maxime's making up some tosh, claiming she spoke to Hagrid because that's what she saw him working on."

"If the only reason she ever liked him was because of his dragon help in the beginning, then I'm all the more happy it's been broken up," James scowled.

They made it down to the stadium, but quickly stopped short when Cedric exclaimed what they'd done to the place!

Sirius straightened up in agitation at once, his eyes narrowing viciously. Even if he didn't currently like Cedric, he was a Quidditch fan, and on the Quidditch field making that kind of exclamation was not a good thing!

The once smooth, green field was now jutting with crisscrossing walls in every direction.

"They didn't!" James spat in disgust.

"How could they," Harry bemoaned, thinking if this was the result of their not being constant practices on it, he'd ask his team to go down there at once even on top of their homework.

Upon closer inspection, Harry saw they were hedges.

Then something snaked down Harry's spine, wrapping tight around his lungs and suddenly leaving him breathless with fear. The impact of the third task suddenly being all too real were making spots appear in his line of vision, insisting something truly awful was going to happen in the thick of those hedges, something about him and Cedric...

Someone called to them from the center of the field, and they noticed the other three waiting.

Fleur smiled at Harry's approach.

"There's the bright side of that task," Sirius said with absolute chipper, still agitated enough about his pitch he didn't notice Harry's internal dilemma. "Fleur doesn't see you as some little kid anymore."

When Harry didn't respond, Sirius just put it down to him being too flustered to say otherwise.

She'd been doing a lot of that since he'd 'rescued' Gabrielle.

Bagman greeted them by exclaiming over the place, saying when the time came Hagrid would have these things twenty feet high! All while bouncing with enthusiasm.

"When is he ever not?" James huffed.

Upon correctly reading the looks of the two Hogwarts boys, he quickly promised the place would be put back right once they were done with it.

He asked if they could guess what was coming, and after a beat of silence, Krum said it was a maze.

Bagman congratulated him at once, saying their last challenge was a straightforward maze to the Triwizard Cup, the first to touch it won.

"Joyful," Lily sighed without emphasis, her mind already offering up a few horrid plants from Herbology she remembered that she was sure was now going to feature in this thing. All not even seen by Harry until he reached the highest greenhouse levels.

Fleur asked if the maze was really it?

Bagman did add on that Hagrid would be giving a few creatures to make it an extra challenge,

"Oh just kill me now," Remus blanched in horror at once, anything Hagrid would be providing would leave anyone but the man himself running for the hills.

"Not happening Moony, I'd miss you too much," Sirius sighed as he fidgeted uneasily with the pages, honestly agreeing with his friend anyways.

plus some spells and enchantments they'd have to get past.

They'd be let in in order of their points, so the Hogwarts boys first, then Krum, then Fleur.

"I guess that's a slight advantage," James sighed absently, he'd honestly been wondering what the point of those points were.

"Really says something about Harry that he's tied for first place," Lily gave her son a warm smile, even as unprepared as he'd been for all of this, he was still managing to hold his own in this competition.

Harry gave her a lackluster smile back he in no way felt.

They'd all have a fighting chance on the inside, pointing out how fun this would be.

"I am going to strangle him," James emphasized every word, he couldn't have been more clear if he'd tried how much this bloke was annoying him with his constant enthusiasm for all of this.

Harry, who had real world experience with the kinds of things Hagrid would be offering, thought fun was the last word he'd use.

"At least Harry agrees with us," Sirius gave him a wane smile, for the first time noticing Harry wasn't exactly paying too much attention. Still, if he didn't want to speak up, he wasn't going to force him to.

They were all dismissed, and as Harry turned to leave, Bagman tried to catch up to him.

All five of them groaned in annoyance at this. Even if it was part of the Tournament, and it really wasn't feeling like that since they hadn't found a single hint he was doing this for the others, it was never not annoying from the man.

He was beat by Krum tapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Timing," Remus grinned absently, suddenly as on edge as everyone else what Krum could be up to.

He asked if he could have a word, and Harry agreed.

Bagman offered to wait for Harry, but Harry told him not to bother, he could find the castle on his own.

"Are you sure?" James eyed his son critically, "because I sometimes get worried about that."

"I'm sure I can ask directions from Krum if not," Harry said back solemnly, the joke losing something in the delivery because he was still so distracted by whatever horrid thing was going to come up in the last task, but trying his hardest to ignore it for now.

Harry and Krum left the stadium, but Krum did not set a course for the Durmstrang ship. Instead, he walked toward the forest.

"What's he up to?" Sirius narrowed his eyes at the pages and alternately giving Harry a scrutinizing look.

Harry shrugged without too much concern, and Sirius decided he'd been harping on Harry enough about safety lately, he didn't really think Krum would do something in front of the castle...right?

They passed Hagrid's and the Beauxbatons carriage before he stopped in the shadows of the forest. Harry asked why, and he said he didn't want to be overheard.

"That's not ominous at all," James murmured, suddenly right in line with Sirius' thinking.

When he did stop, he turned to ask Harry what was going on between him and Hermione, still mispronouncing her name.

All four of those around Harry cracked up laughing, while he glared at nothing in particular. He was just so happy for them thinking this was funny, while he was honestly even more annoyed Krum thought that was as true as the rest of the world.

Harry had expected something much worse from this set up, just stared for a moment before declaring nothing! It hit him all over again how much taller than him Krum was.

"You think he'd punch you out if you said otherwise?" Sirius asked in an almost conversational tone.

"I wouldn't have thought he'd really like Hermione that much," Remus returned.

He promised they were just friends, she wasn't his girlfriend, and never had been.

"And never will be," Harry added on meaningfully, unable to picture her as anything but a sister.

Krum pointed out how often she talked about him.

"Because we're friends," Harry said in exasperation, the memory of telling all of Hogwarts this making him think he was probably being too harsh on Krum as he cracked.

Harry insisted it was just because they were friends.

Harry was finding this all hard to believe that the acclaimed International Quidditch player was looking at him as a rival.

"Well you certainly are on the field," James said pompously, all of Harry's Quidditch wins swimming to the surface, "it's not that surprising off."

Harry didn't agree, on either front, but wasn't going to argue either.

Krum struggled to get out one more question, trying to ask if Harry had ever...

Harry understood, and instantly said no.

Krum finally looked appeased, instead telling Harry he'd seen him during the first task, he was a very good flier.

Harry blinked in surprise, somehow a world renowned Quidditch player saying that still didn't feel as big as his dad saying that, though both equally went over his head as he still wasn't sure why they thought that.

Harry thanked him, exchanging the compliment and saying how he'd seen him at the Cup, beginning to ask about that Wronski Feint- but quickly stopped when he spotted movement in the forest behind Krum.

Knowing what bad things could be in there, he spun Krum around.

"Poor guy could be in for some real trouble," Remus agreed at once, suddenly wishing he could shoo the two out of there.

Krum asked what was wrong, and before either had a chance to do more, a man stumbled out.

"Err," they muttered in surprise, but it was better than a beast.

For a moment, Harry didn't recognize him . . . then he realized it was Crouch.

"It was what now?" Sirius yelped, looking suddenly likely to chuck the book in the flames the moment that name came back up. The residual hatred of what he'd done, or was going to do and not the point, to him leaving Sirius with a nasty curse on the tip of his tongue.

Still, the moment was truly odd enough that he pushed past his own vile at his abrupt entrance and read on to hear why.

It was clear he was worn from traveling, his robes were ripped and he clearly hadn't washed in days.

While Lily could not garner up much sympathy for a man who gave people to dementors like it was nothing, she still couldn't help the edge of curiosity in her voice rather than wanting to scream it, "what happened to him?"

"Sounds like he was attacked," James raised an almost triumphant brow, "maybe he was on the grounds snooping around again and something in the forest got him." He did not sound the least bit concerned, if anything the opposite that Crouch had gotten away.

He didn't even seem to see them, babbling wildly at a nearby tree instead. He now resembled a beggar, and Harry's mind flashed back to a rant Vernon had once given to what he'd like to do to people like this.

"I have never in my life wanted to hear Vernon's opinion on any subject," Remus scowled hatefully, "but even I won't deny I'd hand Crouch over to Vernon like that." At least Vernon would be inflicting the pain on someone who deserved it.

A few creatures came to the boy's mind of something that could have possibly bitten Crouch to cause him to be so delusional, at least one of them big and nasty enough they hoped Crouch wet himself before he was bitten and somehow managed to escape.

Krum asked if this was the same judge from their Ministry?

"Sadly," Lily hissed with disgrace.

While Harry nodded his answer he edged towards Crouch, who was paying them no mind as he told a nearby tree that once Weatherby was done with that

That was so unexpected Sirius involuntarily laughed that Crouch was still calling Percy that, which quickly fizzled out as his mind quickly realized he was supposed to be plotting imminent death for the guy.

he needed to be sending owls to others as well, going into a list of tasks.

Harry tried to get his attention, but still the man seemed convinced he was talking to Percy.

Harry took another step closer, as Krum asked what was wrong with him?

"More than I care to list at the moment," James snapped instantly.

"Or did he mean in the moment?" Lily scowled, "because that I have no clue, and no real care."

Harry began to say he wasn't sure, but instead they should-

He was cut off by Crouch coming forward, grabbing a fistful of Harry's robes and dragging them face to face.

Sirius felt a guttural noise escape his throat in protest of that guy grabbing hold of Harry like that, he was suddenly wishing Padfoot had been on the grounds this night, not only was he owed some payback, but he hated the idea of Harry being out there at this moment in time.

His eyes still remained unfocused, but now his voice was strained for every word as he begged to see Dumbledore.

Harry promised they could to go him, but Crouch didn't even seem to hear him as he insisted, pausing after every word that he'd done something stupid,

Lily was finally starting to feel a wisp of unease for the man, side along with her hatred of him. She was getting very concerned at his actions, and did not want Harry around him any more than could be helped in case he somehow got worse, like violent.

he had to tell Dumbledore.

Harry tried shouting to emphasize they could do just that if Crouch would just let go.

Instead, Crouch asked who Harry was?

Under any other circumstances, Harry would have laughed, as he loved nothing more than to not be recognized, but as memory of this was being replaced, he'd never found anything less laughable.

Harry promised he was a student at the school, looking to Krum for some help, who was still hanging as far back as he could.

"Some backup," Remus grumbled, Krum not exactly endearing himself further to them.

Crouch asked if he was his?

Harry said no even as he had no idea what that meant.

Harry looked around hopefully, but either they were still too angry at Crouch to consider what he could mean other than a madman's rambling, or they had no idea and Harry wasn't in the mood to ask which.

He got out one last time he had to warn Dumbledore, before switching back to conversing with Weatherby about how he and his wife and son were due to have tea with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge later that day.

Sirius shook his head pitifully as he got all that out, unable to decide which he was more maliciously happy for, Crouch's moments where he tried to beg forgiveness from Dumbledore for all the things he'd done, or these moments of delusion where he still seemed convinced he had a good life. Both would snap eventually and he'd turn back into the heartless monster he really was.

Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again,

"There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear," Remus shook his head.

and Harry was so surprised he didn't even realize he'd been released.

Crouch was still babbling on about how proud he was of all twelve of his sons O. W. L. grades.

Lily bitterly turned that in her mind, wondering just how proud Crouch really was, or if he even cared above the achievement and not the boy himself getting the marks and making his father look good.

Harry began backing away, telling Krum to stay with him, Harry was going to get Dumbledore since he knew where his office was.

"I'd just leave him there," Sirius said in no uncertain terms.

Harry gave him a wayward look, but didn't respond. No matter how angry he himself was at the man, he'd never just leave someone in that kind of situation.

He turned to leave, but Crouch seized hold of him again, this time clinging to his knees as he begged not to be left alone! He was back to talking brokenly, every word a struggle as he told how he'd escaped

Sirius sensed someone was about to interrupt him in confusion, this didn't feel as comical or lording anymore, there was something almost sinister in that wording, but Sirius ignored and didn't let the comment rise nor did he allow himself to stop in confusion until he got it all out.

had to warn Dumbledore, it was all his fault, Bertha dead his fault, his son all his fault, had to tell Dumbledore that Harry Potter, Dark Lord stronger, Harry Potter...

Sirius finally looked up, blinking in shock to indicate he was done.

"Did he say he knew Bertha was dead?" Remus narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "why on earth would he know about that? The only ones who should..."

He trailed off, either because it was obvious or he was too appalled to say one of the names was anyone's guess, but James had a much more important question, "what's this about you?"

"Don't know," Harry practically whispered back, hearing the truth in his own words, "nothing good."

Sirius felt chills tracing his skin, he didn't find this nearly as funny or pleasurable at Crouch's expense anymore, the venom had actually dripped right out of his voice in his fearful curiosity to read what Crouch was on about.

Harry forcibly wrenched himself free this time, telling Krum to stay here with him while he went for Dumbledore.

Krum called after his retreating form to hurry.

"No, he's going to take his bleeding time," James huffed through his nose, starting to feel twitchy at all the bad this could be. Nothing was adding up with this man lately. There was just no way he could really be a Death Eater, but then how else would he know about Bertha? He'd been acting off since the beginning of the Tournament, and it wasn't just them, everyone had been saying so. James honestly wished Harry had stuck around and tried to ask him some of these questions, Crouch seemed out of it enough they may have even gotten an answer.

Harry made it to the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office and tried to use the password sherbet lemon.

"Oh crap," Remus winced, clearly Harry didn't know that changed every year, and Harry didn't know the new password.

"Wasn't a bad start pup, but now go for McGonagall," Sirius quickly agreed, then turned back to the book in hopes Harry would do just that.

When the statue didn't move, Harry yelled at it to move!

Lily felt a bubble of laughter wanting to erupt up her throat, nothing magical had ever just moved because you shouted at it, but the humor quickly died as she realized how panicky Harry was.

But nothing at Hogwarts had ever moved just because he shouted at it. Instead he began heading for the staffroom?

"Even better," Remus agreed, "there's almost always a teacher in there, and just as close as McGonagall's office which she might not be in right now."

He only made it a few paces away before someone behind him shouted his last name.

They all startled a bit at Sirius shouting that, but no one rebuked him, too busy hoping Sirius would get a move on and show it was Moody or something, he was the most likely to shout they supposed.

Harry stumbled to a halt and turned to see Snape coming out of Dumbledore's office.

"Argh!" James snarled in outrage. "Why is it every single bleeding time something goes wrong around that place, Snape is always the one to show up and make it worse!"

Lily was surprised her first instinct was still to defend, say Snape hadn't done anything wrong yet and instead could just as easily tell Harry the password as any teacher, but the moment was kicked away in seconds as she agreed with James, she had no delusions this was going to go well.

The statue was already closing behind him as Harry came back, telling desperately that he needed to see Dumbledore, Crouch was down in the forest-

Snape cut him off by telling him to stop talking rubbish, what was he talking about?

"He's not speaking Mermish you imbecile," Remus snapped at once, "pull your arse out of your ears and listen for once."

James had a brief flare of regret Remus wasn't at the castle, again, not only because he knew Harry could have instantly gone to him, but just to be telling Snape something like that.

Harry half shouted now about Crouch being down there, ill and acting odd, he needed to see Dumbledore!

Snape had a cruel smile across his face as he told the headmaster was busy.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Lily was already half shrieking in frustration. "What about that was funny? Any part of that should have sent a decent teacher running for the Forest while telling you the password so you could get Dumbledore to do the same!"

"You said it yourself Lils," Sirius bitterly reminded, "Snape has never been anything decent in his life."

Harry shouted back he had to see Dumbledore!

Snape asked if he was deaf?

"Clearly you're not hearing him," James seethed back.

Harry could tell Snape was thoroughly enjoying himself, denying Harry the thing he wanted when he was so panicky.

Remus had his fingers pressed against his temple to try and suppress his urge to keep shouting about this lunatic, who in Merlin's pants enjoyed watching a child clearly frightened except the most sadistic of people?

Before the circular argument could continue, Dumbledore appeared.

"I'm surprised half the castle couldn't hear me shouting and come running," Harry muttered bitterly.

Harry quickly sidestepped Snape,

"I'd have just shoved him out of the way," Sirius snapped.

"Defenestration is lovely any time of year," Remus agreed.

and again told what was going on.

Dumbledore asked no question, but told Harry to lead the way.

Lily sighed in relief, for all of Dumbledore's ever growing shortcomings, at least the man was still springing into action now.

They left Snape standing next to the gargoyle and looking twice as ugly.

James gave a bitter laugh he wished he could indulge in more.

Harry gave more details of what all Crouch had been babbling about as they headed down, Dumbledore's pace quickening with every word.

"He's spryer than you'd expect for a man his age," Remus muttered absently.

Harry finished by telling he'd left Krum to look after him, which sent Dumbledore into such long strides Harry was running to keep up.

"Why would he be worried about that?" Lily asked uneasily, starting to feel a little jittery. She didn't particularly like Krum, but why would he be in danger at the moment, which was the only reason she could think of Dumbledore hurrying along even faster?

No one answered.

Harry took the lead as they got close to the spot, finding the place he'd first stopped and calling out for Krum.

No one answered.

Sirius couldn't help the worry starting to creep up in him, suddenly more thankful than he could put into words Harry had run off for Dumbledore instead of the other way around. This was stupid of course, Krum was fine, Crouch was acting like a lunatic and they were going to find him in moments...

Harry insisted they'd been here!

Harry bemoaned his life that always, at the most crucial times, he seemed to come across as a lunatic.

Dumbledore lit his wand tip with Lumos, and came across Krum.

After a quick inspection, Dumbledore deduced he was stunned.

Lily was biting her tongue to stop herself demanding of nothing what was going on. They weren't even dealing with a task right now, yet they were more wound up than if they were. This was by far one of the creepiest things to happen on Hogwarts grounds.

Harry offered to run for Madam Pomfrey, but Dumbledore told him to stay where he was.

James honestly disagreed, he'd love nothing more than for Harry to go running into the safety of the castle, he wasn't even sure if he trusted Dumbledore enough anymore to keep Harry's safety in mind with whatever was going on, and just knew one thing for certain. He wished Sirius were there.

Dumbledore instead cast a spell that sent the ghostly image of a bird flying towards Hagrid's hut.

The blatant but odd use of whatever magic that was hardly distracted any of them from their scattered thoughts.

Then he turned his attention back to Krum, using the spell Enervate to awaken him. He tried to sit up with a start, but Dumbledore kept a hand on his chest and told him to stay down for the moment.

Krum told that he was attacked.

Sirius was so surprised by that, he just sat there for a moment with his mouth flopped open. Harry had to give him a hard nudge to get him to keep going, resisting the temptation himself to wrench the book away and read it.

That old madman had attacked him!

Lily had half been convinced Krum must be talking about some other 'he,' because there was just no way he could mean Crouch. For all his horrible faults and deeds, it just didn't feel possible he was actually a Death Eater.

Hagrid arrived then, his loud footfalls announcing his approach with his crossbow in hand and Fang at his heels.

"Why's Hagrid there?" James yelped in surprise, not unhappy at his arrival, but the timing.

"You think it was that thing Dumbledore sent?" Remus asked. "A new way to summon someone to you?"

"If so, I kind of like it," Sirius muttered before pushing on and hoping Dumbledore or Hagrid would actually explain it later.

Dumbledore turned and instructed Hagrid to go get Karkaroff, tell him his student had been attacked. Then to go find Moody-

but was cut off by his arrival.

"Now this one I'm calling bull on," Sirius narrowed his eyes curiously. "Why would he know to come down there?"

"One of his detectors he didn't disable went off?" Remus offered without any real hope, it was still too odd a coincidence.

He was cursing his leg, saying he'd have been here faster if not for it. Snape had told him what was going on.

"Now he's lying as well," Remus balked. "There's no way in hell Snape went and told Moody anything."

"I'll worry about Moody later," Lily hissed, trying to wave them all down, "for now let's see the rest of this play out.

Dumbledore turned to Hagrid and insisted he go get Karkaroff, Hagrid agreeing at once and thundering off.

Dumbledore then turned to Moody and told him to start looking for Crouch, which he agreed to at once.

The three remained silent until Hagrid and Karkaroff came back, the second demanding to know what was going on?

"We'd all like to know that," James rolled his eyes sourly.

Krum told his headmaster, and Karkaroff was instantly outraged a Triwizard judge had done this!

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Karkaroff was livid as he called Dumbledore out on this treachery!

"That's his first conclusion?" Lily looked aghast. "That Dumbledore did this. I've called him a lot of things recently, but I can not see him attacking Krum, or in any way setting this up."

"Can't see Karkaroff himself doing it either, and trying to push blame," James agreed. "Krum should be the last person he'd want to attack for any reason."

He went into a mired of tyrants about Dumbledore being a two face, going on about how they should be rebuilding old ties instead of everything that had happened this year! Then he spat on the ground at Dumbledore's feet.

James nor Sirius looked the least bit impressed with this act of defiance. Dumbledore was at the top of their list of someone they needed to have a very heated conversation with, but for all his underhanded and seemingly cruel moves towards Sirius of late, even this still didn't feel in the headmaster's style. They'd give him that much at least.

In one move, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs and slammed him against a tree.

"Now see, why couldn't he have done that to Vernon?" Remus grinned victoriously. "I'd have loved nothing more than for that first visit to end with Hagrid chucking them all into the sea, the pigtail clearly didn't do any lasting damage."

"Reason number seven why I think Hagrid should be around all the time," Sirius nodded along.

"What are the first six?" Lily giggled.

"I'm compiling a list," he waved her off, "I'll let you know when I'm done."

Hagrid snarled for an apology, while Dumbledore told Hagrid to put him down.

"Dumbledore never lets anyone have any fun," James pouted, he rather enjoyed this mental image.

Hagrid released him at once, Karkaroff falling to the ground in a tangle of twigs and leaves at the trunk.

Despite the seriousness of Harry's situation, that didn't stop anyone giving a nice laugh at Karkaroff's misfortune.

Dumbledore told Hagrid to take Harry back to Gryffindor tower now.

Hagrid tried to insist he'd rather stick here, but Dumbledore was being firm, turning to Harry that he was to go back to his tower and stay there. Anything else of any importance, even any owls he wanted to send,

"Hey, leaving me out of the loop like this," Sirius yelped in protest.

Honestly, the others were almost relieved. Now that there was no doubt Harry was out of danger, being with Hagrid and heading back to his tower, they didn't want Sirius anywhere near this. If Harry sent him a letter now, he'd be on the grounds of the castle to investigate before you could finish the first reason of why it was a bad idea.

could wait.

Harry agreed with some unease, wondering how Dumbledore knew he'd already been forming a letter to Sirius in his head.

"Because Dumbledore is a Legilimens," Remus sighed, "something he doesn't usually use on students, but I guess he made an exception on you to see if you missed any details."

Lily tisked, wishing he'd asked permission.

Harry followed in Hagrid's wake back to the castle, after he left Fang standing guard over the scene.

Hagrid was in a rampage, muttering curses about this whole situation and Karkaroff's take on it. Dumbledore was worried about everything lately and this was no help.

Then he turned on Harry, who jumped at being taken aback.

"So am I," James had jumped slightly at Hagrid turning his attention on Harry. What had he done wrong to deserve this?

Demanding what he'd been doing down there with a Durmstrang?

"I think Hagrid's taking Maxime's spurn a little too personally," Remus sighed, "now he hates all the foreign people."

"Though with good reason from that school," Sirius scowled at Harry as well, "I wasn't any happier when you went off with him," still, he smoothed out his face and finished, "but Hagrid is in the wrong this time, Krum wasn't the problem."

Harry rolled his eyes at his godfather, and Hagrid, acting so paranoid when Krum had never done a thing wrong to him.

Krum could have jinxed him, hadn't Moody taught him anything?

"Moody isn't exactly one I'd be taking life advice from," Lily shook her head.

"Well he has kept himself alive long enough to be some credibility," James couldn't help but poke back.

"After gaining himself how many enemies?" Lily challenged right back.

James let it drop.

Harry defended that Krum was alright, they'd just been talking about Hermione.

Hagrid vowed he'd be having words with her next.

"Be afraid for Hermione," Remus said, in almost close to amusement. Cleary Hagrid had taken on an almost paternal roll for all of the kids, which was honestly adorable, the most of which for Hermione. Krum now had Hagrid to fear if things got serious between them.

None of them should be having anything to do with those foreigners.

Harry pointed out he hadn't thought so when he'd been spending time with Maxime.

"You know why that changed," Sirius looked at Harry in disbelief, "why would you bring that up?"

"My point still stood," Harry defended, "he was just fine with it when it was him."

Hagrid looked so menacing as he told Harry not to mention her, he actually looked frightening for a moment.

"I honestly forget how scary he can be," Harry said a little faintly, not used to seeing such a lovable man in an apron look ready to use that crossbow any second. Last time had been his first trip into the Forest, and that hadn't been pleasant either.

Saying he knew better now and that third task wouldn't be over soon enough. They couldn't trust any of them!

"That is so depressing," Lily sighed in sympathy for the poor guy.

Hagrid was in such a bad mood, Harry was relieved to say goodbye to him at the portrait hole. He went inside and at once went to tell his friends what had happened.

"Least you can tell them," Sirius was still pouting he was being left out of the loop till the very last as he passed the book to Harry.

HPHPHPHP

*I've mentioned that I would love nickname suggestions, now you know why. The ones I last used are the ones I like most, but really they're not sitting right with me. The Marauders gave themselves nicknames based on the actual animal's parts, whereas Roan and Fleetfoot just don't fit the pattern as well...

Finally saw Fantastic Beasts, just in time to further appreciate the adorableness of the nifflers in this chapter. I know I've failed as a fan, especially a Hufflepuff at that, by not having seen it long before now but stupid college life crap stopped me. Still, the movie was as beautiful and wonderful as everything with the HP name attached to it, especially for me as I freaked out every five seconds at getting to see all of those beautiful creatures. Let me know which one was your favorite from the movie! Mine was the occamy, kept whispering I want one under my breath in the theater and pissing off those around me, most beautiful gorgeous thing I've ever seen!

Also let me know what beast's you're hoping to see in the following movies, my fingers are crossed for a Horned Serpent like my Ilvermorny house!

In order of the nicknames appearing, suggested by:

MelodyGirl239- Willow/ Petal

MelodyGirl239/ Shakira94- Bambi

#the life that never lived #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #GoF #Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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