#yeah I’m so normal about this mediocre show I promise (lying)

[kiwowiwo]

At the end of this show they really said this show is about love, it’s about the sacrifices we make for other people, from strangers to people that redefined our lives by being in them, it’s about love pulling you out of misery, it’s about companionship and community and platonic and romantic and familial love and what it means to be a person and about how maybe house can’t be fixed but how maybe he can change

[lovemepleaase]

i. warm.

in which it’s new year’s eve, and champagne has harry feeling bold. rated m.

massive thanks to katy perry for the line, “skinny dipping in the dark.” also, yes, i know this doesn’t make sense for england at this time of year-- suspend your disbelief.

read the rest of my writing here.

...

Normally, she’d never be up at two on the morning of January first. The original plan was to have been in bed at least an hour ago, slightly buzzed, Advil sitting within easy reach for when she woke up feeling like death was only a few steps away, reruns of Friends playing as she fell asleep. She’d been gathering her things at half-past midnight, kissing Nick on either cheek and assuring him that, yes, she was fine to drive, when Harry, shirt barely clinging onto its last two buttons, had slurred at her to stay— just while he sobered up, he promised, promptly shoving another drink into her hand and setting her coat on the couch, leading her over to the loveseat and asking her about her New Year’s resolutions. So that’s how they ended up here, sprawled out on Nick’s couch while he snored over on the cushy loveseat, his legs laid casually over Meshach’s lap with Pixie sat on the floor, her head hanging back against the cushions. Nick’s house was an absolute mess— empty cups and champagne bottles were scattered about, deflating balloons mingling up near the ceiling, confetti covering every inch of the hardwood floor, and what wasn’t on the floor was being carefully arranged among Harry’s curls by Y/N. It was bold of her to crawl up into his lap with a handful of sparkly confetti, sure, but she was quite a few more glasses of champagne in than she was before, and Harry’s loose, warm grip on her hips was more than comfortable. His eyes were closed, his breathing even— she’d think he was asleep if it wasn’t for the occasional quip about her hairstyling skills here and there and the light brushes of her hip with his thumb. (It would be too much from anyone else, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t wondered what it would be like to find herself in this position more than once over the course of their friendship. Saying she had feelings might be taking it a bit far— she had a curiosity, and certainly a desire. Harry was her friend, sure, but he was also extremely attractive, oozing confidence and a sexy sort of swagger she hadn’t come across in any of her dozens of mediocre dates this year— or last year, she supposes. And, besides, who could deny those cheekbones?) She took the last piece of pink metallic material from her hand, placing it just on the bend of one of his curls before leaning back to admire her work. “Perfect. Looks handsome.” His eyes fluttered open sleepily and he blinked a couple times, looking up at her with a gentle smile. “I was just starting to get comfortable.” She frowned dramatically, crossing her arms as he steadied her on his lap. “You don’t even appreciate all my hard work.” He grabbed for one of her hands, pressing a misplaced kiss to the knuckle of her thumb. “Love it. Gonna steal this look on tour, I swear it. Gucci’ll be contacting you any day now.” She felt the corner of her mouth lift of its own accord in response to his terrible joke, her free thumb rubbing over his cheek. “Yeah, they better.” Harry kept his eyes on her, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, scanning over her face like he was sizing her up, a curious sort of look on his face as his eyes traced over her features.

(And if she was leaning into the hand that had just barely slid down to her ass, so be it.) “What?” He pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing like he was thinking. There was a pregnant pause before he answered. “You ever been skinny dipping?” She barked out a laugh— sure, he was drunk, but the implication of the statement was very clear and seemed very, very sure in its weight. “If you wanted to get me naked, there are better ways than both of us freezing to death.” He smiled boyishly, lifting one of his hands to tug at his bottom lip. “Pool’s heated.” (He’d avoided replying to the more incriminating statement, she’d noticed, but she was willing to let it go for the sake of flirtation.) Yes, she was more than willing to get into bed with him, but hopping into a pool in the dead of winter wasn’t exactly the way she’d thought it would go. At her own place, perhaps, where everyone was dry and maybe just a little less drunk. He didn’t give her a chance to respond, tapping at her leg to get her to crawl off his lap, putting a hand back behind him to push himself up and off the couch. “C’mon— it’ll be an adventure.” He pushed himself up off the couch, his shirt hanging open, revealing the moth and the birds and whatever other ink he’d covered his body with over years of spending all of his time with impulsive teenage boys spread out over the warm skin of his torso, the black standing out fiercely against his skin (or maybe it was just the alcohol tricking her eyes; either way, he was gorgeous). He had a large hand held out to help her up, looking at her with raised brows expectantly, a slight, drunken smile toying at his lips. “Harry...” “Come on, love. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She shifted just barely in her spot, the sentiment combined with the ample time spent on top of him making her feel the need for just a little friction against her center. She reached up hesitantly, taking his hand and letting him carefully pull her up, ignoring the way the room went just a little blurry as she made it up to her feet. “Fine.” Harry led her outside, keeping a grip on her hand as he slid open Nick’s glass door, taking a deep breath as he stepped out, fog appearing in front of him when he exhaled. She hissed when her bare foot hit the bitter cold concrete, immediately wondering why Nick’s guest room wasn’t suitable— but, she supposes, they’d already made it this far.

(Watching Harry stop in front of her and drop her hand, reaching down to unbutton the last of his shirt, sliding it off his arms and abandoning it on the ground was a solid reason for her to continue with his ridiculous plan, she decided.) She only realized she was just standing there watching him lamely when he was pulling down the zipper of his jeans and stopped to look up at her. “You gonna strip or are you going in like that?” “Right— sorry,” she said, tugging her sweater over her head and cringing as it fell onto the likely dirty floor. No turning back now. He was down to his boxers the next time she checked, just as she was stepping out of her jeans, leaving them in an inside out pile next to her sweater. He may as well have been naked with the way his waistband was hanging so low on his hips, down past the dark trail leading down from his bellybutton, far enough that he could show off the neatly trimmed but much thicker hair just above his dick— the image it brought on was certainly enough to make her want to drop to her knees and help him get his boxers off.

Y/N blinked her arousal away, diverting her gaze down to the floor and reaching back to unhook her bra and letting it slide down off her shoulders— better to get it all off before the cold had the time to sober her up enough to recognize that what she was doing was absolutely insane. Her panties were down around her ankles when she heard Harry hum— he was looking down around her hips when she looked up at him, clouds partially masking his facial expression with every breath. “What?” “Didn’t know you had that.” He pointed at her and she looked down, searching for what he was looking at until she realized he meant the tiny tattoo inked just against her hip bone. “Oh. Right.” She brushed over it with her thumb, watching tiny goosebumps follow in its path. “I guess you wouldn’t have.” “‘S cute.” She looked back up at him, his expression earnest even as he was standing in front of her, eyes glued to her bare skin, already half hard. She had no doubt he meant it, even if he was clearly looking for something more than ‘cute’ from her. “Thanks.” She looked over at the pool, steam rising up in waves from the warm water— a formidable sight in the bitter winter air. “I’m not getting in until you do.” He grinned at her, and then, without hesitation, took a running leap into the water, splashing enough that she felt a few drops hit her, creating little spots of cold on her already chilled skin. He was still grinning when he came back up, his hair plastered to his forehead, the shiny confetti she’d worked so hard to arrange floating out around him and bobbing in the waves he’d created. “Your turn.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and making her way over to the ladder that dropped down into the water. She dipped a toe into the water, feeling less susceptible to risks than Harry, even if she was stood in Nick’s backyard completely naked. “It’s not that bad.” “Told you. Now get in.” He was treading water, watching as she took each step down into the water very carefully until she, too, was floating in the deep end of the pool, her dry face still pink from the cold air. She frowned at the contrast. “It’s gonna be so fucking cold when we get out.” He snickered, letting his head go under for just a moment so he could push the hair off his forehead, grinning when he came back up. “So we better enjoy it then, yeah?” He turned his back to her, taking a lazy pace over to the shallower end of the pool, the lights lined against the wall illuminating his elongated shadow against the pool floor as he used broad strokes, making his way over to the wall at the other end of the pool and then leaning back against it casually, stretching his arms out along the edge. “You comin’?” She inhaled sharply before setting out to follow him, trying her best to ignore how cold the outside air was as the water got shallower and shallower, and then her feet were touching the bottom. She only stood for a second before making the decision— she walked over to him as best she could through the resistance of the water, his arms coming back down to rest on her hips as she got close to him, pressing their wet chests together and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him so close their noses were nearly touching. She felt his dick twitch against her thigh when she shifted, working one of her knees between the two of his. “Hey.” “Can I kiss you?” She laughed through her nose at his bluntness— clearly the cold had done nothing for his inebriation or the boldness that accompanied. “Sure.” He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, leaning in and closing the gap between them— he tasted like whiskey and minty gum and strawberry chapstick and apparently liked to keep a slow pace, his hand languidly drifting from her hips up to her waist and then just barely brushing the underside of her boobs, and then cycling back again, keeping the other against her cheek, pressing it into her skin as he worked his lips against hers, the tip of his tongue pressing against her bottom lip.

(He could definitely feel her nipples pebbling against his chest, but in her defense, it really was cold.) She was just reaching up to card her hands through his wet hair when he moved, bringing the hand that was on her cheek down to her waist and shifting to press kisses to the drops of water lingering against the skin of her neck, his teeth just barely skimming against the column of her throat. Whether it was out of drunken clumsiness or on purpose didn’t matter; she gasped nonetheless, tugging at the hair on the back of his head. He reached up, brushing at her nipple with his thumb, laughing against her skin when she gasped. He was attentive, even drunk— he trailed kisses down her neck, around her collarbone, between her breasts before leaning over and taking his nipple into her mouth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive skin. “Oh, God...” He had a finger still brushing over her other nipple, letting his teeth barely graze as he sucks, clearly relishing in her breathy moans and the way she was pushing him closer. He was hard up against her leg, but still very focused on his task; she reached down blindly, grasping at water once, twice before she got a grip on his cock, giving him a couple firm strokes, feeling him grow harder in her grip. He moaned  against her chest, the sound vibrating against her skin and making her eyes flutter shut. Y/N moved her hand, circling her thumb around his head before running her finger against his slit. Harry pulled back, resting his forehead against her chest, hissing when she moved to give him another stroke. “I...I wanna...” “Whatever you wanna do,” she started, pausing to lick a droplet of water off his neck. “We probably can’t do it in the pool.” He sighed, looking up at her with warm cheeks. “We um...” He let his head fall into the crook of her neck, sighing again before looking up at her. “We didn’t grab towels.” It was maybe 50 degrees, at most. They were naked, and wet, and both feeling very needy, and they had no towels. “...shit.” Harry licked his lips, looking over at the patio with razor sharp intensity. “Nick’s got a pretty good blanket on the couch over there.” She looked over where he was— it was a good blanket, all thick and fuzzy and probably much, much, warmer than the New Year’s air. She turned her head to look at him again, his hands still resting on her waist, her hands still tangled in his hair. “Wanna make a run for it?” He looks back at her, and then over at the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for it.” She pulls off of him, wrapping her arms around her exposed skin, feeling grateful her hair wasn’t wet like his was— she’d be much better off when it came to getting dry and warm, even when he was still shivering and complaining. He followed her up the stairs and quickly over to the couch, careful not to slip as they made their way over to Nick’s couch— she grabbed the blanket, tossing it over her shoulders and climbing back on top of Harry when he sits, letting the blanket drape over them both as she leaned in to nip at his neck and press kisses to his jawline, working her hips over his at a gentle rhythm. “Do you wanna...?” She pulled off his neck, kissing his cheek a couple times as she answers. “Yes, yes, please...” “There’s a condom in my jeans.” Safety first, always, but it was bloody cold— she stopped immediately, pulling back to look at him with furrowed brows and a frown. “You want me to get out from under the blanket?” “I’ll warm you up.” A solid promise, but nonetheless, there was still dampness on her skin where the blanket wasn’t, and it hadn’t gotten any warmer outside since they’d found the protection of Nick’s lovely blanket. She looked back behind her at the piles of their clothes sitting tauntingly on the concrete, the shiny blue corner of the metallic wrapping poking out from the front pocket of Harry’s jeans. She took a breath, gaining momentary courage before she tossed the blanket off her shoulder, pushing herself off Harry and running over to his jeans, pulling the little square out of his pocket before running back to the safety of his and the blanket’s warmth, where he was holding the blanket open for her, giggling childishly. “Shut up,” she said, tearing open the packet and giving him a couple firm pumps before rolling the condom over him, squeezing tightly when she gets down to his base. “Sorry, sorry, you’re just...cute.” “Whatever.” She scooted closer to him and sat up on her knees, guiding him to her entrance. His head was warm against her as she rubbed him between her folds a few times, gathering her wetness where it mattered most before finally sinking down on him, not bothering to take her time, letting him fill her completely on the first stroke. Harry groaned when she did, the grip he had on her hips tightening. “Fucking— shit, you’re warm...” She laughed— an out of place comment at any other time, but any additional warmth was welcomed in this situation, even if the stretch was a little much; the heat radiating off of him felt just as nice as she was sure she did around him. His eyes were squeezed shut, his head falling back against the cushions of the couch, his brow furrowed deeply as she rocked against him. He was using the hands on his hips to help keep her to a rhythm, guiding her up and down, front and back, holding on tightly as she ground and rocked against him.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re amazing, you know that? Been thinkin’ about this for ages…”

It just sort of slipped out— she was drunk and he felt amazing inside her, warm and firm against all the spots she can’t ever seem to reach herself, his fingers just barely skimming against the tattoo he’d noticed earlier. “Think about it when you’re getting yourself off?”

He laughed, ducking his head down so his forehead was rested against her shoulder; it was faint, but she still heard him. “All the bloody time.”

“Think about anything else?”

Harry groaned when she squeezed around him on the next drop, his hand moving back to grab at her ass. “Can’t really think about anything but y’cunt right now, love.”

“Good.”

He brought one of his hands down to her front, rubbing firm circles into her clit, smiling when she flutters around him. He had both of his feet planted firmly on the floor, wrapping his free arm around her, getting just the right amount of leverage to meet her rhythm with his own thrusts upwards.

The sound of skin against skin and rumbly groans echoed across Nick’s patio; Harry moaned, low and loud and long, and she was almost scared the trio inside might wake up and find their friends fucking out on the patio until he hit a spongy spot deep inside her on one of his strokes, and she’s right there too, with a loud “Harry!” and a push of his head into her cleavage.

“There?”

“Yes!”

He pressed just a little more firmly against her clit, his circles just a little less precise. “How are we doin’, love?”

Any of the burning stretch she’d felt before had been worked out, leaving just a pleasurable pressure from the inside and the feeling of the head of his cock hitting against her just right. “God, you’re big…”

If it inflated his ego at all, it doesn’t show; he pressed a kiss to her jaw, watching as her eyes fluttered shut. “Close?”

She just nodded; anything more would take too much effort, and she could feel her orgasm rapidly approaching, the pressure building low in her belly as she slowed to a stop, letting him take over completely, keeping a steady pattern of thrusts for the both of them.

“Come on, love, cum on my cock, let me see it…”

She whimpered— she was teetering over the edge, her eyes fluttering shut, her head falling back as it built higher and higher inside her, the feeling rising.

“Give me somethin’ to think about.”

The image of Harry with his hand on his cock late at night, cumming as he thinks of her is all she needs— she felt her body tense up as she came with a soft, “Oh, God,” her grip in Harry’s hair tightening astronomically.

Harry muttered her name into her neck as she started to come down, his hips starting to sputter. “‘M gonna cum…’m gonna—“ He cut himself off with a drawn out moan, and she could feel him pulsing inside her as he buried his face into her neck, emptying himself into the condom.

It was a couple moments before he went loose underneath her, pulling back to look at her, a boyish smile on his face. She couldn’t help but laugh softly— she got what she wanted, after all, even if it was under unconventional circumstances.

“Sorry. Didn’t take long.”

She smiled, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Don’t worry about it. Make it up to me next time.”

His brows rose, just barely, but he didn’t say anything— an unexpected response, then, but a positive one.

(After the way this had gone, she hoped there would be a next time— her vibrator really could only do so much, and it certainly wouldn’t drunkenly ask her for a fuck in their friend’s swimming pool in the middle of winter.)

She tucked her hair behind her ear, taking a breath before lifting off of him, cringing when she sits back down and feels him wet against her thigh. “So…”

“So?”

“The condom.”

His nose scrunched as he tried to hide a laugh, pulling the blanket tighter around them. “Was kinda hopin’ you’d ask me home with you, honestly.”

Her brows shot upwards— so it was mutual, then, and not just because of the champagne and the party atmosphere. This meeting was premeditated on both sides. “Oh yeah?”

He couldn’t help but giggle, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in close. “Guess I didn’t have to.”

She shook her head, falling into his warm embrace gratefully, the clouds of their breath mingling in the cold. “Happy New Year, Harry.”

“Happy New Year, love.”

“...think we can go inside? I think my nipples could probably cut glass.”

She felt his hot breath on her shoulder as he laughs through his nose. “Please. This condom is bloody disgusting…”

[obradsimpson]

Love — Brad Simpson ✿

  prompt: you were hopelessly in love with bradley simpson   words: 1.6k   warnings: n/a

There had been no defining moment when you had fallen in love with him. It had been a process, something that wasn’t recognizable until the sheer amount of it caused you to stumble on your own, two feet.

Throughout the two year development, of course, there were memories a bit more memorable than others.

The day was less than mediocre. The clouds had decided early that the day wasn’t for them, opening up their bellies and unleashing cool, fat drops upon the city of London. The sun seldom made an appearance, seemingly content with hiding in the shadows of the clouds. The wind provided a frigid breeze, causing noses to become rosy and jackets to be zipped up to the neck.

You had taken shelter in a rather fair-sized café, one that had become a favorite of yours. You frequented enough that the majority of the employees knew your order without a word. Others had also taken refuge in the small shop, some actively conversing while others sat alone with their personal devices.

You fell under the category of the latter, with earphones slipped into the shell of your ears and a notebook lying beneath your wrists. Since your arrival, you had been considering various ideas for an analysis paper — one you weren’t particularly excited for. Narratives had always been easier for you, while contemplating the meaning behind a few pieces of writing weren’t.

Lyrics tumbled from your lips in a hushed tone every few minutes, occasionally stumbling and missing a word here and there.

When you looked up, hoping to find a distraction of some kind, the sight of a curly-haired, dimpled-chin boy stood in front of you. One eyebrow was raised as he pointed a finger in the direction of the vacant chair sat across from you. You tugged one cord from your ear and asked, “Sorry, what?”.

He smiled. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Sure, yeah.” He settled his attention on the barista behind you, most likely waiting for his drink to be finished and his name called.

Like many others, when a pretty boy sat feet from you, your heart beat a little faster and you couldn’t resist the temptation to tuck any stray hairs behind your ears. With his cologne drifting past and his smile still so fresh, it only became more difficult to sit so close to him.

Abruptly, before you could somehow embarrass yourself, he spoke. “I have to be honest.” You lifted your gaze from your notebook filled with scribbled, half-assed ideas, thoroughly surprised that he had spoken again.

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ve been sitting back there,” he paused and hooked his thumb somewhere behind him. “For almost an hour waiting to see if you were meeting someone here.” His fingers tapped a beat into the table, something that sounded vaguely familiar but one you couldn’t place. “I’ve run out of patience and decided that even if you were meeting someone, they’re an absolute dick for making you wait.”

You laughed, both in disbelief and surprise. “No, I’m not waiting for anyone.” You gestured towards the door. “Just trying to get out of that weather, yeah?”

He nodded, bottom lip jutting out in a considerate pout. “Well, that’s great. I mean, not the weather but y’know—,” You laughed once more, only finding this boy more charming as he continued to speak.

“No, no I understand.”

A name was shouted then, drawing the boy’s attention. “That’s me.”

You smiled and lifted your gaze as he stood. “Brad, was it?” He nodded and you offered a hand and then your own name.

Friendship with Brad was concurrently incredible and complicated.

Bradley was either regularly free or consistently occupied — there was no in between. When the rearmost was the case, there was no communication between the two of you. It was an incredibly frustrating friendship.

There was no explanation between the two. When three months passed and Brad suddenly appeared into your life once more, he acted as if everything was perfectly normal.

How could you be expected to spend almost every waking moment with someone, only to not hear from them for weeks? How could he send you cheeky text messages that made your heart flutter, only to cut all contact off with you for months? How could you deal with seeing his smiling face through video calls every night, only to end the call unsure when the next would be?

How could you be expected to be okay with that?

That was how you had appeared outside of his flat, your hoodie pulled past your ears and obnoxious, blue cabin socks pulled past the ends of your sweats. It didn’t take long for someone to open the door, one who was not Brad.

If it hadn’t been for the loud music in the next room, you may have spoken. If it wasn’t for the alluring voice feet away, perhaps you could have contained all of your confusion and hurt.

Of course, you hadn’t.

The singing abruptly cut off as you stepped inside, blood rushing into your cheeks at the sight of the group squeezed into Brad’s little living room. Brad himself held an acoustic guitar between his fingers, his eyes wide and reminding you of a rabbit looking a coyote in the eye.

Ironically your first thought was that it was unsurprising that he could sing. Every other thing was perfect about him — why wouldn’t he be able to sing?

However, despite the half-dozen pairs of eyes on you, you asked the question that had seared itself into your skin. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re always gone?” Brad swallowed and blinked. You tugged the sleeves of your hoodie past your hands, using them as some sort of anchor so you could continue. “I don’t think it’s fair that you keep acting like that isn’t wrong. I know we’re just friends but—,” you paused, feeling the confidence beginning to drain from your system. “It’s not fair.” You finished, unable to stop from whispering your last words.

Every eye turned to Brad then, the majority of their jaws dropped and curiosity sprawled across their eyes. He set the guitar down and stood, mumbling something about excusing himself before leading you up the stairs and into his room.

A flowered bandana kept his hair from his eyes, unfortunately allowing you to see each and every emotion that flashed through those dark eyes. He softly closed the door as you sat on his bed, limbs stiff and embarrassment coursing through you.

“I’m sorry, I should have called—,” Brad held a hand up and gently smiled.

“No, it’s fine.” He dropped beside you, causing the bed to dip and adjust. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to ruin this, y’know?”

“Brad—,” You began, only to quiet yourself when his gaze met yours.

“I’m in a band. The lads downstairs are in it with me.” He smiled once more, but it again didn’t reach his eyes. It was clear that he wasn’t expecting this to have a happy ending. “We do shows. Go on road trips and stuff. Sometimes they’re a bit long.” His eyes fell to the floor, eyes unfocused and tongue swiping out to wet his lips. “I didn’t know how you would react. I didn’t want you to think that I’m this big celebrity when I’m.. Just.. Me.”

After a brief moment of silence, “I don’t care who you are. It doesn’t matter to me if you had five dollars or five thousand in your bank account.” You settled your hand on the top of his, smiling as he curled his fingers around yours. “I just care when you disappear off the face of the planet for Christmas with no goodbye or promises that you aren’t dead. I had a great present and couldn’t even give it to you.”

He released a breath of a laugh and nodded. “No more disappearing.”

Neither of you spoke then, simply allowing the presence of the other to comfort you. You dropped your head onto his shoulder, his warmth and familiar scent welcomed.

“You’re an amazing singer. You know that, right?”

He grinned and craned his neck to look at you. “Thank you.”

There was something that Brad was particularly quite good at. As marvelous as he was at dancing (a personal favorite), napping at the worst possible times and choking down an entire bag of Goldfish in one sitting, there was that one thing that had your toes curling and breath catching.

Brad was most likely the best kisser you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

It was quite the indescribable thing. There was no one reason as to why but more so the experience of kissing him.

The way he seemed to always smile beforehand, eyes falling to your lips and eyes softening before wrapping a hand around the curve of your jaw. He’d gently guide your lips towards his own, only pausing once his nose gently bumped against yours and there was only a breath in the space between you.

Sometimes he would say something, usually a quirky comment or cheeky statement that never failed to get you to grin. At times it was the sheer stupidity of it, while others it was a comment that made your cheeks feel warm and your chest feel a little tighter. He’d kiss you then, lips soft and his thumb tracing circles just below your jaw.

Occasionally, neither of you bothered to pull away until it was absolute must to take a breath. It was an unnecessary thing — breathing.

So when people ask if you’d be able to answer your children when they ask when you fell in love with their father, there was little doubt in your mind.

As it had taken some time, but damn were you in love with those eyes and that smile.

[peter-parkers-backpack]

67 Chevy Impala part 2

A/N: I was overjoyed but the comments on 67 Chevy Impala, and because of a request I’ve decided to write a part 2, sorry it took so long, I’ve been really busy. Hope you like it! Thanks for the feedback everyone!!

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!Winchester!reader

Fandom: Spider-Man Homecoming, Supernatural

Summary: Peter never forgot somebody that he used to know. He had her number, but was afraid to use it, until the new Avengers Facility seems to be haunted. 

Warnings: Mentions of Hell (idk if this should be a warning but), violence, cussing, Season 5 of Supernatural just happened, so the time frames don’t add up, sorry about that, Infinity War doesn’t happen because I don’t know what events will take place and I don’t want to screw the story up.

Part 1

Three years.

That’s how long it had been since she had to move.

Peter had graduated now, he was living in the new Avengers Facility. After high school, he had decided that he actually did want to be an Avenger, and was immediately taken in.

His first few months there were great, he was the ultimate fanboy, and the others found it quite entertaining.

Until a new shipment of, well something, came in. Tony told them it was pretty important, but after opening the box, they found it just to be some old antiques. Apparently the supplies were for something he was working on, but no one really quizzed him on what that was. 

That night the heater seemed to fail, then the next morning the TVs glitched and turned off, before turning back on like nothing had happened. They began to worry, Tony’s systems didn’t fail continuously like this on a normal basis. 

Peter remembered something the first time something weird happened. He remembered a girl he used to know. The things she told him. 

It all added up, cold spots, glitches, that meant ghosts if he remembered correctly. 

“H-hey Mr. Stark?” Peter approached him the next morning, only to find most of the Avengers already at breakfast with him.

“Yeah, Spidering?” He responded, not looking up from whatever he was doing.

“I-I think I know how to- or k-know someone- w-who can fix the w-weird stuff that’s been going on.” He was so worried they would think he had gone mad that he almost couldn’t get out a full sentence.

Tony finally looked up. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about what had been happening “And who is this?”

“W-well I used to know her at school, h-her family solves s-stuff like this. T-they are called ‘hunters’.

“Thanks, but I don’t need someone who can shoot deer, I need someone who knows what’s going on.”

“N-no” Peter stuttered nervously “T-they hunt m-monsters, I-it’s real, I-I promise.”

And after some laughing, and more convincing, Peter found himself dialing a number he hadn’t ever before. Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stare at his phone every night, debating whether to call or not.

(Y/n) had also left high school, but she didn’t have the chance to be a superhero. She had to help her brothers fight Lucifer and Michael. So yes, she may not be an Avenger, but how many people can live to say they stopped the apocalypse? Two, the answer is two.  

They used to be a family of four. John, Dean, Sam, and (Y/n) Winchester. Now they were all split up.

John had left first. He sold his soul to save Dean’s life, died a few hours later, and they hadn’t seen him since. 

Then Sam. He was currently in the cage in Hell, after winning a fight against Lucifer and jumping in to trap him forever.

Dean left next. He had made a promise to Sam, Lisa and Ben. He was happy, and that’s all (Y/n) needed. A happy Dean didn’t come to often, and she was determined to make it last. 

So as far as he knew, (Y/n) Winchester was dead, just like the rest of them.

(Y/n) found herself yet again living off of stolen credit cards and fake IDs. Just, alone this time. She continuously felt thankful that she had amazing abilities when it came to computers, or she’d be screwed. 

She didn’t have a car anymore. Dean had taken Baby with him, not like she expected otherwise, he thought she was dead. And who leaves a car to a dead person?

However, after awhile she got fed up with busses, and stole a beaten-down, two-door, rusty pickup truck from the side of the road that had a ‘for sale by owner’ sign on it. It wasn’t much, but she had a seat for herself and enough room to lay across he seats, and that’s all she needed.

The only belongings (Y/n) had were some clothes, a computer, and some weapons. Even these were mediocre, compared to what she was used to. She had three knifes, Ruby’s demon killing knife, one 8 inch hunting knife, and one pocket knife that seemed to have every kind of tool on it. Her favorite pistol, and a shotgun were the last guns standing, seeing as she didn’t have much room left for the other ones.

For the most part, she hunted demons, and considering how pissed she was at them, she was pretty good. In fact, she killed so many in a short amount of time that she soon became Hell’s most wanted. 

Her sole focus was to kill as many black-eyed sons of a bitches as possible.

That is, until her phone rang. And for the first time ever, the name Spiderboy came onto the screen. 

“Hello” she picked up, trying as hard as she could to not sound as pissed off as she was.

“H-hi (Y/n), I-it’s Peter, Parker, I- um- we have a problem. I think it’s a g-ghost, I can’t be s-sure, b-but I was wondering, I-if you could c-come get rid of it?” Peter was nothing but a stuttering mess on the other end, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but agree.

“Yeah, give me an address and I’ll be there.”

“Okay, a-are your b-brothers coming t-too?”

“No” she deadpanned, and after getting the address, she immediately hung up.

When a rough-looking pickup truck rolled into the parking lot, and a teenage girl ran up the steps, it was Tony Stark who answered to door.

“Sorry, I didn’t order girl-scout cookies this year.” He joked.

“Well I ordered a good joke, but clearly I came to the wrong place.” She retorted, smirking as his face fell “Look, I’m (Y/n) Winchester, and I’m here to fix your ghost problem.

Tony had heard that name before, and it wasn’t from when Peter was explaining what hunters were, in fact he now realized Peter never actually said the name of the person that was coming.

“Come on Spiderling, there’s a don’t be like this, there’s a party. Come join.”

“Sorry Mr. Stark, I really don’t feel like it right now.”

Tony sighed “There are plenty of girls out there” he kept trying to convince him.

“I’m not interested, thanks though.”

“Oh, well there are guys to-”

“N-no it’s not that, I-I just, I’m not interested”

Tony sat down “Alright who was it?”

“W-what?” Peter looked up at him.

“The one who broke your heart, who was it?”

Peter sighed “(Y/n) Winchester. S-she didn’t break my heart, she just had to move. Her family wouldn’t let her stay. She told me they move around a lot, at least five times a school year”

“Come on in then” He said snapping out of his thoughts. 

“So tell me, how long has this been going on?” (Y/n) asked Tony as she sat at the dining table, a fresh coffee in her hands.

“About two weeks.”

She nodded “And how long have you been living here?”

“Longer than two weeks, that’s for sure.”

She nodded “Ok, that makes it less likely that the building itself is haunted.” She thought for a moment “Have you had anything come in the building around the time the odd things started? It’s most likely something old.”

Tony nodded “Actually there has, I’ll show you.” 

They passed many rooms on the way there, including a theater, that happened to hold many of the Avengers. Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Wanda were perhaps the most curious people (Y/n) had ever met, and they insisted on following her and Tony to one of his labs. 

When they got there, (Y/n) saw a box labelled ‘antiques’ and immediately walked over and spread the objects out on a table.

Before she could do anything Tony asked “So why would a ghost be in an object?”

“Well ghosts are stopped when their bones are burned, but sometimes they leave a piece of themselves behind, often hidden in an object. This makes them tied to said object, so wherever it goes, they go. So what I’m thinking is that one of these things has a ghost tied to it, which is why nothing strange happened until after it got here.”

“Why are you using an old busted up Walkman?” Sam asked, looking at her like she was the strangest person in the world as she took the tool out of her pocket and pulled out it’s antenna.

“It’s an EMF meter, and it looks like a Walkman because it’s homemade. It was my brother Dean’s” (Y/n) explained as she waved it over an old rusted mirror.

“What does it do?” Wanda asked, eyeing the thing as she waved it over another object.

“Basically it tells if an object, area, or even person is haunted or possessed by a ghost. When it detects something it will-” then the EMF meter’s lights went nuts as she waved it over an old book “-do that.”

“Well what do we do with it now?” Natasha questioned, eyeing the book suspiciously.

“We salt and burn it”

Clint’s smile grew “Cool”

It had been one of the easiest cases (Y/n) had worked in a long time, and it seemed like a vacation from the black-eyes. But she knew she had to get back to what she was doing before. So when the Avengers wanted her to stay for dinner, they basically had to lock all of the doors, to which (Y/n) pointed out was kidnapping.

“Oh come on, you helped us, the least we could do is give you dinner.” Tony said “And don’t even try denying again, your food is already on the table.”

When everyone was seated and starting to eat (Y/n) was bombarded with questions about her life.

“Where do you live?”

“You said you have a brother, where is he?”

“Where are your parents?”

“Do you get paid doing this”

“What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever done?”

(Y/n) chuckled at their curiousness, and knew it was because they were new to the fact there were hunters out there and wanted to know how they lived.. “Ok everyone, slow down. I don’t live anywhere, I just sleep in a hotel wherever the case I’m working is, then I move on to another town. Actually I have two brothers. Dean is the oldest, he has a sort-of-family now. It’s a complicated situation, but he lives with them. Sam is the middle child, he’s“ she paused, her eyes beginning to fill with tears before she blinked them away “he’s dead.

“My parents are dead too, my mom was killed by a demon when I was a baby, I never knew her, and my dad died a few years ago to save Dean’s life. Another complicated story.

“No I don’t make money, people don’t exactly pay you for saving their lives. The coolest thing I’ve ever done…” She debated telling them she has had many conversations with the king of hell, or fought angels and demons alike, that she was number one on the most wanted list in hell, all things they would consider cool. “The coolest thing I’ve ever done was cut off a vampire’s head with Spider-Man’s web.”

Before anyone could react to her crazy, yet seemingly normal, answers, Peter Parker walked in the room. 

“Sorry I’m late, I was-” but he trailed off when he saw (Y/n) sitting there.

“Peter! How are you? Wow, it’s been awhile. I see you still have awesome t-shirts” she laughed at seeing his shirt had the NASA logo on it saying ‘I need more space’ .

He smiled and hugged her, which gave his stomach a warm feeling, “I didn’t know you were coming today.” Peter was also confused, he knew she was pissed at him, but clearly she was hiding it. 

“Well, I was closer than I thought.”

After dinner they all went to watch a movie, but when Peter tapped her on the shoulder, the two of them went outside to talk in private.

“I’m sorry”

“Is that all you got?” (Y/n) asked “I called you every night for months Peter. You would think you could’ve answered at least one of my calls.“

“I know, and I’m sorry, so, so, sorry. I just knew that if someone went after you because of me, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“That has got to be the most cliché thing anyone has ever said. Come on Peter, if you are worried about someone getting hurt, maybe don’t date a hunter. I get hurt all the time, but you know what, not once has it been because of you. In fact, right now I have the king of hell looking to kill my ass, I should be the one worried about you. So don’t give me that shit, don’t even try.”

“I guess I just thought after a while that you would be to mad at me to answer the phone.“

(Y/n) looked into his brown eyes and remembered the boy she fell in love with years ago. “I never got that mad Peter.”

“Can you give me another chance?”

“Of course”

“Can I kiss you”

“Of course”

And then his lips were on hers, and for the first time in a long time, she felt all her worries slip away.

“NICE GOIN SPIDERLING”

“TONY LEAVE THEM ALONE”