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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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Doll Parts | tony stark x reader

i love him so much it just turns to hate // he only loves those things because he loves to see them break // and someday you will ache like i ache // Hole - Doll Parts

all hurt comfort. angst. no happy ending. big sad. tony could have been like this, you know. he was like this to pepper at some point. i don't know why i am like this today. rated M for themes of (implied) addiction & cheating and non-explicit mentions of intimacy. word count: 3,3k

It wasn't as if she was blind or dumb. She saw the way he treated everyone around him; whenever a single person got too close he'd push them away, consciously or not. The man loved pushing everybody's buttons as if he was playing Galaga for a living; rapidly, mercilessly, with intent. Tony Stark was not a man to whom a person would give their heart willingly.

It was her own fault she went and gave hers away, to him, of all people. And sometimes, it did feel like he loved her, in his own way. Tony would shower her with gifts and affection, cling to her whenever he wasn't away on SI business, and God, the sex was out of this world. Sometimes, she felt as if she would suddenly burst into a blinding flash of light, scalding and deafening, that would sprout from the invisible wounds his fingers left on her skin. Like fine china, she cracked little by little under his steady, tender hands.

The first time he'd ended their short, by average standards, but long - by his, relationship, it didn't come as a surprise. She had never held illusions on ensnaring the world's most notorious playboy. Younger and less jaded, she amicably agreed to get her things that very same day, blocked his number and left for an overdue vacation in the tropics. Being able to browse the gossip sites speculating on their lack of public appearances whilst sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri was a much better alternative to spending her nights holed up in rainy Manhattan, having to answer numerous "I told you so" calls from friends and relatives.

Maybe, three daiquiris should've been enough. But she'd quit smoking because he said the smell bothered him and she- well, she could do anything she wanted now. Being alone and not dating a very public figure definitely had way more perks than she previously had taken for granted in her much less exposed life. That's how the heartache began to recede: it was hard to mope when fun was calling for you by your name.

Some of Tony's character traits had migrated onto her. Which wasn't bad per se, she had been told she could use to loosen up. Her friends rejoiced in the newfound adventurousness, never missing an opportunity to go out, throw a party, go on a clubbing spree. She was game and she was enjoying it. Dolled up and eyes sparkling, the newfound confidence radiated off her like a beacon, attracting just about every single like-minded person in a five mile radius.

Tony's champagne he had sent to their table meant nothing. Her friends laughed and giggled and asked her all about the juicy details about the billionaire; as much as she searched the rowdy crowd for a familiar pair of baby doe browns, they weren't anywhere within sight. So she went back to talking and smiled as bright as the strobe lights, throwing down a whiskey shot to water the burning ache in her chest.

She found him on the dancefloor. Seconds after she stepped her foot into the mass of grinding bodies Tony was there, an equally happy and intoxicated smile on his face and arms wide open, as if they hadn't parted ways at all. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, she wanted to snide his frivolity and the possessive way that he had the audacity to treat her.

His eyes, they were her untold weakness. She hadn't seen him so happy in months. Just once, she agreed, she'd let it slide. And so they danced, bodies accustomed to each other in the way that seemed to be impossible for her to achieve with anyone since the day that she left Tony Stark.

A splitting headache and a cold, empty bed greeted her the next morning. Thankfully, her clothes were laying haphazardly on the floor of the bedroom - the bed that was not his own but, rather, as she assumed, one of the many guest rooms in his tower.

Not the one to usually harbour shame of her very human needs, she felt like a cheap whore when she got dressed and grabbed her purse, making a beeline for the door to the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted with a woman in a professional suit - tall, strawberry blonde and as cold as the Arctic, beautiful in the Vogue-magazine, unattainable way.

"Good morning," The woman spoke in a pleasant tone.

She wanted to retch from the false cheerfulness. "Good morning, ma'am. I was just leaving," Refusing to bow to her own shame, she flashed an equally cheerful grin towards the blonde.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal assistant, my name is Pepper Potts," They briefly shook hands, neither of them wanting to touch the other longer than it was necessary. "There is a car waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to take the left exit."

Internally fuming, she smiled slightly wider, seeing no need to introduce herself or prolong the awkward interaction longer than necessary. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, that will not be necessary. I have arranged my own ride. Have a nice day, ma'am," With that, she pressed the button once again, entering the elevator with the expression of polite contentment glued to her face like a persistent piece of dog shit she couldn't shake off the bottom of her shoe.

Ms. Potts' façade slipped slightly - she must've been new - as the blonde ran a sharply observant look over the woman in the elevator, pulling out her phone as soon as the elevator door was halfway closed. That was quickly forgotten, her head growing clearer with each second it was pressed against the cold window of the cab she'd called on the way downstairs.

It was a mistake, a perfectly human accident that happened to the best of them. Only it left a bitter residue somewhere south of her ribcage, something acrid and viscous that even alcohol couldn't melt. The more she drank, the thicker that ball of rolled up frustration became, bleeding into her work, her relationships with her friends. It was tiresome to keep craving something so far out of her reach.

The exhaustion grew day by day, until her chest felt constricted for most part of the day and all the oxygen in the whole wide world wasn't enough. Her heartache was saved, strangely enough, by aliens - they rained down on New York city like frogs during the Plague in the book of Exodus; as if God himself was angry at the state of affairs of his favourite pet earthlings. For a time, she couldn't afford to worry about her broken heart and focused on the dilapidated city, landing her resources and skills whenever, whenever she could.

Late at night, exhausted and drained, she allowed herself to flick through the news, eagerly soaking up the new details that seemed to pop up every other day. Aliens were real, Thor was one, Captain America was alive and her ex-boyfriend was now a member of the merry band of misfit superheroes.

She had never taken his hero sidegig too seriously. Tony had some good in him, he wasn't the attention-demanding supervillain-waiting-to-happen, but neither he was hero material. The Tony she knew was akin to a hyperintelligent kid left without supervision. Consequences were a slight setback, not a surefire deterrent for this man.

Her building remained mostly intact - some cosmetic damages that were repaired quickly and did not concern her apartment at all - so she stayed in the same place, much to everyone's dismay. A good chunk of her friends had moved away from NYC as soon as they could - not that she blamed them - but the calls of her family, consisting of begging and nagging her to move states, were beginning to climb over the annoying line very quickly. More often than not, she ignored all calls that weren't from her friends or work.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Tony showed up on her balcony one night - but the shriek that left her was utterly involuntary. His armored suit was noisy and clunky, just like was expected from a huge chunk of metal. Tony's face was a ghost of the man she used to know: he was pale, the bags under his eyes were fit to carry groceries in and he'd lost more than a few pounds around his middle.

Not that she had a glow-up. Work hours were long, volunteer work was by far more exhausting and emotionally draining. With her support system scattered across the country and free hours few and in-between, she'd acquired a shrink. Nightmares went away and the sluggishness, too, thanks to a couple of convenient prescriptions. It seemed like the professionals were as clueless as any in dealing with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

"You weren't returning my calls," Tony stated in the way of hello. It was so like him, to be skipping the pleasantries and glossing over the details.

"I have your number blocked," She replied unkindly, raising an eyebrow as the suit retracted and the man, wearing worn jeans and an oil-stained tee, stepped into the twilight of her home without an invitation.

"I wanted to make sure you are alive and your home is being rebuilt in case it was demolished. Stark foundation is shouldering most of the expenses," He offered in the way of explanation, beelining for the nice whiskey she kept in a tumbler in the living room.

The snort escaped her lips before she could help it; brain chronically overtired but medicated; Adderall and weariness. He was never a good liar, only a good faker. "Why are you here, Tony?" All of it: the damages, the casualties, all of it was public record, accessible 24/7. All he had to do was open Google.

He turned around, scanning her head-to-toe, in that not-quite-convinced way. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," He tried for nonchalant but his eyes were haunted. The whiskey glass he was holding empty in seconds.

She walked up to him, staying at an arm's distance from the man, before doing a slow, sarcastic twirl. "I'm fine. Not a scratch. Was in Staten Island that day."

He nodded, not at all convinced. "Good," Before slamming the glass down with such force, she was afraid the countertop now sported a rounded indent. Fingers twitching, he pulled the woman into himself before she could utter a peep, smashing their lips together without any grace, paying no attention to the way she froze as still as a statue. "God, I missed you. Couldn't bear the thought of you dying..." He mumbled in between harshly biting the plump of her bottom lip and steering the kiss towards his wishes, hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head.

He tasted like whiskey and desperation.

She couldn't not give in. She'd felt the same way when she watched his red and gold armor fly into that wormhole, missile in tow. She'd felt the same despair clawing at her ribcage when his lifeless body flew back from it before being caught by the rabid green monstrosity.

It wasn't graceful and it wasn't pretty; feeling like a monster herself, she responded the same way he did. She shredded his clothes, she clawed his back, leaving wet crimson streaks in the wake of her nails and whispered the ugliest, nastiest truths she had denied herself for so long. He left with the promise to stay in contact and for once, he did.

Nothing was the same. Tony was far from the careless, extravagant billionaire he used to be. These days he was a cynical, analytical asshole that one-upped people even before he had a real need to do so. Both of them had changed, really. She was not the tender uptown girl either.

The nights with him were rare and long; the nights alone with her work were recurrent and longer. The tower stood out on the NYC skyline like a sore thumb, beckoning with the unattainable snipe hunt of having something stable with the world's #1 superhero, Tony Stark. Each time they met, she felt almost as dirty as the time she stood in the elevator under the scrutiny of Pepper Potts.

Even if he didn't outright hide her. She'd ran into Black Widow and Clint Barton once or twice, each of them casting a glance at her Special Visitor badge before muttering niceties and moving on with their day. It was only slightly better with the Captain: he got in the elevator two floors below Tony's penthouse at 8 AM in the morning, just as she was leaving for work - dressed in a sharp pantsuit that was not-quite on Pepper's level. The soldier must've assumed she was a high-rank employee or a friend, the tips of his cheeks blushing as he spoke a quiet: "Good morning, ma'am," In that semi-formal tone of his.

Seeing a grown man get so flustered was quite adorable. "Good morning, Captain Rogers, sir," She replied in a matching tone, humoring him.

The elevator stopped suddenly and a few employees got in, staring openly at the national icon, who had his eyebrows slanted in confusion. The woman shared his sentiment: it was Tony's private elevator. She guessed all the other ones were too full in the mornings so the tower's AI put the underused one to work.

Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of anyway. It wouldn't be past Tony to get jealous over something as trivial as sharing an elevator car with Captain America.

The plateau of normalcy didn't last long. Just as she was opening her third bottle of wine for the night, laptop open on the kitchen counter and proudly displaying "Tony Stark and Pepper Potts - America's newest power couple?" article, she realised he was a coward, too. Slowly but surely, he had ghosted her, not even bothering with an explanation of his sudden unavailability, the several dates missed and even more postponed indefinitely.

They were never going to be a normal couple. She had made her peace with that, ugly and depressing - but it was real. She thought what they had was real. She finally had admitted to herself that she loved him, loved an impossible man, loved to the bottom of Hell and pitfire. The fireworks under her skin had never fully gone away, she realised as more and more ugly sobs broke from her chapped lips.

She blocked his number again and bought herself a new one, deleting the "Tony Stark" contact for good. There was more than enough work to do and the time to feel sorry for herself was sparse. And if she picked up a habit to make sure the time working was spent with proper efficiency, without soaking documents in saltwater that her eyes seemed to overproduce those days? It wasn't a big deal. She needed to get back on her feet somehow, without being dragged by a man who wasn't even present to actively be ruining her life anymore.

If anything, she thought she should feel grateful. The blinding light, the stars that exploded and shone inside her only for Tony, became something poisonous and vile. It wasn't the bitter taste of regret; rather, she felt a flash of ravenous, burning anger every time his name or his face popped up in a press article within her eyesight. Love and hate weren't that different when it came to the intensity: she basked in those newfound feelings, taking care to pick apart and neatly sort each of his perceived flaws on a cute little shelf in her overtaxed brain and fatigued heart.

It wasn't healthy. A convenient escape for the summer; a cabin far, far away from the busy New York city - she took up the offer and relocated there, being content with working remotely, drinking strawberry mimosas by the lakeside. Day by day, the clarity of her mind returned, lulled into a false sense of security by the tranquil trees slowly swaying in the breeze and wide ripples in the water.

Tony seemed to be enjoying bringing chaos into her life and making her miserable. The quinjet landed right on the neatly manicured lawn in front of the cabin, several obviously exhausted and wounded superheroes dismounting the vehicle, Tony looking sheepish but determined in the lead.

She wasn't completely unaware of the rest of the world and knew of the fiasco the Avengers recently had. Was it the half-dead, limping Widow or the baby blues of the Captain, she couldn't tell, but the woman ushered them into her house, gathering the tools needed for first aid with haste. Fate wasn't looking to give her a break.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen, alone, Tony was there, looking much like that time on the balcony, baby doe browns turned up to eleven and a groveling speech prepared on demand. He'd noticed her weight loss and the ashen tone of her skin, the prominent veins and the bags under her eyes. She was as obvious as a brick to the face with her vices.

She slapped him. He winced, but stayed quiet, preparing himself for the storm - and storm him she did, keeping quiet enough for most of the team to be able to tactfully ignore the scolding Tony was getting. "I despise, you, Stark. You're a coward. Do not dare to set foot in my house ever again."

Needless to say, the superheroes departed shortly after Natasha's injuries were stabilised and frowning, disappointed Thor and Steve (they'd asked her to address them by their first names) bashfully apologized for their sudden intrusion and any discomfort they might have caused. She smiled at Steve, wide and big; refusing to admit it was done just to spite Tony, she joked and blushed in response to the Captain.

Tony did not attempt to contact her again. For some time, she lived in fear - irrational one at that - he'd appear and wreck her life one more, final time, before admiring the destruction and leaving her a steaming pile of ashes on the floor. But seasons passed and all of it faded, like a vivid, terrible nightmare.

Piece by piece, her life was getting put back together. His name stopped invoking a swarm of feelings she needed to drown just to stay afloat; there were news regarding him, another violent altercation, and she simply flicked the TV back to adult swim. New friends and new hobbies were being made; the fine cracks made by his agile fingers were being filled with the gold of newer, better discoveries.

There was always something going on in the superhero world and finally one of the topics reached her line of work: mutant rights. She'd never stopped being a volunteer after that NYC invasion, making new connections in a domain previously unexplored, it paid off in spades regarding her career growth. The connections were vital to be able to climb the corporate ladder successfully.

Stark showed up at her door three days after half of his merry band of misfits were pronounced fugitives. This time, she expected it. She knew better than to expect him to assume responsibility by himself - a quick Google search and his relationship status was listed as once again single - the Virginia Potts she knew would not have let anything like that happen. Stark was on his own.

"They betrayed me," He'd said, from behind the door she had cracked open a few inches, to make him know he wasn't welcome in her home.

"I think you know now, how I felt then," She didn't falter, ignoring the way his still freshly-bruised face darkened. "As far as I am concerned, you deserve it. Goodbye, Tony." She shut the door without waiting for his response, hearing his footsteps slowly back away as she made herself another coffee.

Tony Stark taglist: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @rdjesus4ever @ladyeliot

Well um 💀 yeah. I'll go and attempt to scavenge some serotonin somewhere now. Thanks for reading! 💖✨

#tony stark angst #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bun writes: drabbles #bun writes #this is me tearing your heart out and having it for dinner 💚#it's okay i obsess over this scenario and send myself spiraling at least twice a month

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3wisellamas · 4 years

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Because literally no one else is ever going to make content for this tiny ship, here’s some Sparrell headcanons.

Deal with it.

-During that brief period where Darrell was working at the bodega he would have felt very out of place, having never really had anyone around that wasn't him or his siblings, and tried to get to know his new coworkers and establish himself ASAP. Sparko ended up basically being his first ever friend, being one of the few other employees there who hadn't fought and destroyed him in the past, and he especially loved hearing him talk about his school -- not just POINT Prep, but school in general, since that's something that Darrell never got to experience at all, and would be pretty curious about. And from there they kind of bonded over gossiping about / trash-talking some of Sparko's old hero classmates, like, say, Elodie.

-And on the other hand, I kinda feel like, after getting manipulated (and drugged, let's not sugarcoat it) by POINT and becoming disillusioned on the whole "fancy-pants hero" lifestyle, Sparko would return to Lakewood a little lost, and really looking for a fresh perspective -- suddenly having a straight-up villain around to talk to, and one who's weirdly friendly and genuinely interested in what he has to say, would be a pretty big deal. He really gets into Darrell's own stories about how fun it is fighting heroes and doing petty evil, and the ones about his big, crazy, complicated, yet loving and ridiculously supportive robot family (he missed his a lot while at PP!)

-Even after the whole reset thing, they both stay in touch as slightly more neutrally-aligned pals, and meet up to chat whenever they can, until they realize their meetings have somehow accidentally turned into dates!

-They are both a TERRIBLE influence on each other. Sparko's parents and coworkers are very concerned that he's started littering, and wasting water, and even doing the occasional petty vandalism alongside his boyfriend. And Darrell's family is shocked to find out that he's actually donated (!!) to a charity (!!!!), and has even been doing a few other minor good deeds when he's with Sparko, like cleaning up after said vandalism.

-Darrell's a robot powered by electricity, and Sparko's basically a living lightning bolt. Think about that for a second. Their kisses are electrifying, to say the least.

-They can even boost each others' powers a little via kissing (or just whenever they want, but you know they'd be total dorks about it ;v; ). Sparko can easily inject some of his own energy into Darrell's electrical systems to overcharge him (with the side effect of making him super-affectionate just a bonus in this case), and Darrell's figured out how to let some of his glorb's energy leak out into Sparko, resulting in...you know.

-Sparko is FASCINATED by Darrell's brain. He'll often watch it closely, trying to see if he can catch some of his thoughts forming. (Darrell doesn't have the heart to tell him it's actually just chewing gum...)

-Together they're good enough to reliably beat Raymond in megafootball!

-Sparko's family loves and accepts Darrell right away, even though his parents aren't so big on his villain lifestyle (they're really worried their son is being "corrupted" into a villain himself). However, Sparko is TERRIFIED when it's time to meet Lord Boxman. He's seen the daily plaza attacks, heard his friends' stories about him, knows that he's an extremely dangerous level -10 supervillain who HATES heroes and friendship and love. He's not prepared at all when the guy turns out to be in the middle of a self-improvement journey, trying to support his kids' decisions and reconnecting with his own hero friend, and accepts him into the family and asks him to call him Dad right away. It takes several hours for Sparko.exe to start working again...

-Surprisingly, the person who DOES have a major problem with them being together is Shannon -- she didn't get to have a boyfriend, and in fact Darrell was one of the ones so against her being in love with Rad, so why does he get to have one instead?! But, she starts to warm up to it when she realizes that they do genuinely care about each other, as friends in addition to boyfriends, and that Darrell isn't glitching like she was (at least, not always, with all the sparks literally flying). She still pranks the shit out of them on their dates, though.

-Since the two tend to be nervous wrecks, they eventually start to pick up on each other's signs that they're about to panic, or situations that make the other anxious, and can help them get through it. Of course, this doesn't really work when they BOTH have panic attacks at the same time...

-And particularly when Sparko's anxious over exams, Darrell tries to help him study (as best he can, anyway, since he almost never understands the material), brings lots of snacks, reminds him that he probably won't be expelled for one bad grade, etc. Though he didn't really need much help in that area, his grades definitely improve!

-Likewise, when Darrell moves out to start his farm, Sparko visits him a lot, bringing groceries from the bodega or parts from Boxmore for whatever needs repairs at the moment, and basically keeps him connected to LPT and Boxmore and makes moving so far away from home a little easier. He's learned a few tinkering skills from his boyfriend, as well as how to operate a tractor, but when it comes to actually planting and growing things he prefers to just watch Darrell work from a distance.

-Darrell actually learned how to cook, so that Sparko didn't have to just get takeout whenever he visited! He even packs him lunches and sends him lots of vegetables from his farm, after learning those are supposedly good for non-robotic lifeforms.

-He also totally made Sparko a cowboy costume, to match his. He doesn't understand the cowboy thing at all, but hey, if it makes Darrell happy he'll wear it, though only around Darrell Acres.

-He also does NOT get the hivemind thing at first, and whenever they're hanging out at Boxmore together he gets a little uncomfortable when there's like four or five other Darrells in the room. He eventually figures out how it all works, but still tends to keep a tight grip on HIS Darrell's hand near the factory floors so he doesn't lose him.

-Oddly enough, though, he's perfectly fine with Big Darrells. Sparko finds nothing more satisfying than riding on his level -100 giant robot boyfriend's shoulder while he's smashing the shit out of some rando that gave them lip for being a hero/villain couple. He even loses an entire hero level from cheering him on!

-They both snack on batteries. Sometimes there's arguments about whether small but sweet AAAs are tastier than big, juicy 9-volts, though both definitely agree that CR2032s are a delicacy.

-Darrell helped pay for a decent portion of Sparko's college tuition, with some of the profits from his farm. And at his boyfriend's insistence, he's taken a few business courses at the local community college as well (even if he didn't really need them).

-Later on, Sparko LOVES Robbie and Sara, and tries his best to be a good stepdad/uncle/whatever to them whenever they visit Darrell Acres.

#ok ko #ok ko let's be heroes #ok ko darrell #ok ko sparko #sparrell #emheadcanons

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thedailyimagines · 5 years

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Imagine dating MJ and training her to be a hero.

Anon requested: “May I request a Mary Jane Watson x Male Reader? Reader is another spidey and best friends with Pete. Reader is there for MJ when she’s alone from Pete due to him being away from her all the time and she finds comfort with the reader, reader tries to cheer her up and make her happy by taking her on swings throughout the city and other stuff. Eventually they fall for one another and Pete ends thing with mj cause he sees she’s happier with the reader and gives them his blessing to be together.(1/2)

Also, since MJ doesn’t want to be alone again due to the reader being another spidey, she asks to be his partner and go crime solving with him, so the reader trains her to fight and use different weapons. News spread of a new hero couple which is them. Hope this okay with you, glad I found your blog last night, you have awesome content, hope you have a nice Day/Night 😊 (2/2)”

Congrats, you’re part of the Spider-verse! Don’t worry, it’s a different universe where Peter doesn’t die.

Y/h/n = your hero name

~~~~~~~~

“Peter, if you think I’m staying here while you deal with this, you’re dead wrong.” The brunette sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. As glad as he was to have someone watching his back, it wasn’t what he needed today.

“Y/n. They want to kill MJ. Not kidnap, kill. I need you here to protect her in case they come for her.” Y/n frowned, but after a moment he just nodded his head.

“...Fine. Don’t make dumb choices.” Peter left through the window, and y/n walked out to the living room where the redhead in question was waiting. She looked shaken, and y/n understood why. If he were in the position of being targeted by several supervillains and having no means of defense against them, he too would be shaken up pretty badly.

“He left, didn’t he?” Y/n rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah. Peter thinks he has an idea of where they’re hiding out. He left me here to protect you.” Mary Jane Watson sighed and put her head in her hands. Y/n sat down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, MJ.”

“I know he will.” Not sure how to reply, y/n came up with a brilliant idea.

“Hey, how about this. How about I take you around the city—spider style?” MJ looked up in surprise. Usually that was something Peter did with her, on very rare occasions.

“Really?” Y/n nodded his head.

“There’s no point being cooped up in here. If some comes after you, they’ll do it anywhere. Might as well make the most out of a situation.”

“Alright, let me get my jacket on.” MJ went to grab her jacket, and you went to your room to change into a hoodie, jeans, and (of course) your mask—a partial face mask because hey, he had a nice smile. No need for the full hero suit if one was just casually swinging around.

Soon you and MJ were flying high above New York, her laughing with excitement as y/n swung them around using webs from his wrist web-shooters. Landing on the top of a tall building, y/n set MJ down gently. She blew a lock of hair out of her face and smiled.

“I have to say, I’ve never had that much fun doing that. And I don’t think I’ve ever gone that fast.” Y/n stretched his arms and grinned.

“I’m glad you had fun. Was there anyplace you wanted to go, or did a food stand sound like a good place for dinner?” MJ tapped her chin with her hand, then her eyes lit up with an idea.

“There’s the Italian place just down the street, we could go there.”

“One stop at the Italian place, coming right up!” Y/n took MJ by the hand and pulled her off the roof, swinging down the street towards the restaurant.

<—>

Occurrences like that happened more and more. Y/n developed a crush on MJ, but said nothing about it. Peter was his best friend and MJ was dating him. There wasn’t any reason to cause drama over a crush.

Y/n doubted MJ felt the same way anyway.

Little did he know she did. At first she just thought of y/n as a friend, but as time went on and she saw Peter less, MJ started to develop feelings of her own for y/n. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Peter, but they had grown distant.

Then she got a text from Peter asking her to meet him at their regular coffee shop. As soon as MJ walked in, she could tell something was up.

“Peter, what’s this about?” Peter looked up as MJ slid into the seat across from him. This wasn’t a talk he wanted to have, but it needed to happen. It would be selfish of him if he didn’t.

“MJ, I love you. You know I do. But I want you to be happy. And that’s not with me.” MJ’s eyes widened at what Peter said.

“Peter—” The brunette held up a hand.

“Let me finish. I’ve seen you with y/n, and you look happier than you’ve ever been. I’ve thought a lot about this, and I think we should be just friends.” MJ pursed her lips and thought for a moment. She was happy when she spent time with y/n, but was it really right for her to leave Peter for one of his best friends?

“Peter, are you sure?” Peter nodded and took MJ’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah. You deserve to be happy, and I know y/n will treat you well. He’s a good guy. And if he doesn’t, then you always have me to beat him up.” MJ laughed at Peter’s joke.

“Thank you Peter. Will you be alright?”

“Of course I will! It’s not like we won’t ever see each other again.” The conversation would have continued were it not for several police cars rushing by, their sirens blaring loudly. Peter looked to MJ, who just smiled at him.

“Go get em, Tiger.” Peter nodded apologetically and rushed out of the coffee shop, leaving MJ alone.

<—>

Several months after that found y/n and MJ in a relationship. They had held off getting together until y/n finally asked MJ on a date. She accepted, and one date turned to another and another. Peter had been so happy for his two friends, and even sent them a slightly messy, handmade congratulations card.

(Y/n sent him one in return when Peter started dating a coworker and old schoolmate of his named Gwen. She had just gotten a job as an editor at the Daily Bugle.)

This rainy night found the hero and the redhead in their now shared apartment, puzzling over a new problem. MJ was tired of being left behind when y/n went to go be a hero, but y/n didn’t want MJ to get hurt. Now MJ was rehearsing a script for a possible acting job as y/n hung from the ceiling.

“Okay, I think I have a solution.” MJ looked up from her laptop, the PDF script she had been sent momentarily forgotten.

“And that is?” Y/n plopped down on the couch next to MJ. She set her computer on the coffee table and turned to look at y/n.

“I can teach you how to fight. That way you can defend yourself and if you really want to, you can join me in fighting crime!” MJ took a moment to consider the pros and cons.

“That’s...not a bad idea. I assume no radioactive spider bites are needed?” Y/n shook his head.

“No, but if you really want to—ow!” MJ smacked y/n with a pillow. “Okay! No spider bites!”

“So when do we start?”

“Well I can see if any other heroes have tips for training, and we could start as soon as we make a training plan.” MJ nodded and went to pick up her computer.

“Alright then.”

“Great! Are you sure you don’t want spider—ow! I surrender! No bites!”

<—>

“Did you see the news?” Y/n raised an eyebrow and looked up from the food he was making. It was one of the rare days both he and MJ had off, and that called for making breakfast.

“No, why?” MJ grinned and set the paper down on the counter next to where y/n was cooking.

“Here.” Y/n glanced at the newspaper, then had a double-take. There on the front page was himself and MJ in their hero get-up. Kissing.

Y/H/N CAUGHT WITH NEW STREET VIGILANTE

The ‘new vigilante’ of course, was MJ. Last night was her first night on patrol with y/n and Peter, both coaching her through the dangerous world of crime fighting.

“Well this is great. Now the Bugle is going to make me seem like the next Tony Stark.” Y/n almost tossed the newspaper to the side when a small caption caught his eye.

Photo by Peter Parker

“I’m going to punch him. I really, truly, am going to punch him.” MJ laughed and set a mug of coffee next to y/n, taking a sip of her own.

“Relax y/n. My guess is Peter took the photo and forgot to take it off his camera before Jameson saw it.” Y/n groaned again and put his face in his hands.

“I really hope JJ doesn’t make me write articles for this. He does know the Bugle isn’t a gossip magazine, right?”

“From what I’ve heard about him, anything vigilante related is news.”

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gif, all credit goes to the owner.

#thedailyimagines #imagine #male reader #spiderman!reader #into the spiderverse #into the spiderverse imagine #spider man imagine #peter parker #mj #mj imagine #mj watson #mj watson imagine #mary jane watson #mary jane watson imagine #mj x reader #mj x reader imagine #mary jane watson x reader #mary jane watson x reader imagine

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thewritewolf · 5 years

Text

Rekindle Chapter 9: Ice Skating

Aaaand I’m back. Sorry for the delay, I’ve been working on a couple other projects and this chapter, where Chat Noir gives Marinette a big surprise, ended up expanding wildly out of my control.

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@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

It was late in the afternoon when Marinette began gathering blankets and pillows for Chat Noir’s impending visit. While it was becoming increasingly common for the feline hero to give her a heads up before he arrived, these were usually an hour or two in advance, sent just as he began his patrol. Today was something different, though. He’d asked her to keep her evening free on this specific day a full week ago, which was something he’d never done before.

“No question about it, he’s planning something,” Marinette said as she placed three folded blankets on the couch.

“What do you think it is? There is only so much you two can do here, right?” Tikki nibbled at her cookie as she followed close behind Marinette.

She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m thinking it’s probably a movie night, but some part of me hopes that he is making something for dinner again. I love his cooking!” Marinette turned to see an odd look on Tikki’s face. “...Did I say something weird?”

Tikki waved her away with her paw and a shake of her head, a faint smile dawning. “Sorry, Marinette. You just reminded me of an old friend. He’s a big fan of food too.” She took another bite from her cookie and her face screwed up in concentration. “I don’t think he’ll be making dinner though.”

Trying not to let her disappointment show, Marinette asked as she searched her hallway closet, “What makes you say that?”

“Because he likes surprising people and if he wanted to make you dinner he would have done it while you were at work. Instead…” Tikki trailed off behind her.

Marinette continued the thought. “...Instead, he asked for me to make sure I had an evening free. What does that willy cat have planned?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, purrincess.” A jolt went through Marinette as she spun around, swinging the pillows in her hands like a deadly weapon. Chat didn’t seem the least bit surprised when they connected with him and he continued as if nothing had happened. “And a hello to you too.” He smiled, his hands behind his back and tail gently swishing back and forth. “Who were you talking to?”

“Myself,” she lied after only a slight hesitation. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she crossed her arms and stared him down. “I kinda had to if I wanted to have any conversation in this house before you started showing up, you know!”

There was a hint of sadness in his eyes when he replied, “I can understand the feeling.” He smiled as he playfully nudged her. “Good thing we have each other then, yeah?”

It was easy to return his smile. “Yeah. At least we’ve got that.” She swallowed heavily as she realized he might have caught sight of Tikki. “So, uh… what did you overhear?”

“Not much, just the part about you wondering what I had planned.” His ears twitched and his smile turned sly. “Why? Did I miss some juicy gossip?”

“No,” she tapped him on the nose, making him go cross eyed for a moment, “but since you were eavesdropping the least you can do is tell me what you’ve got cooked up in that kitty brain of yours.”

He chuckled. “Well, I thought that you’ve been so kind in letting me into your space that it was about time that I let you into mine.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Chat… are you… going to reveal your secret identity?”

To her surprise, he scoffed. “No, that guy is boring. I’m talking about Chat Noir’s space. My favorite places to stop all over Paris!” He grinned. “I’ve had plenty of time to find the best spots in the city, after all. Sound good?”

“Sounds chilly,” she grumbled, which is when her eyes trailed downward to see that he was wearing the sweater she made for him, and then back up to his big, pleading eyes. She sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine. Let me get dressed for the weather and we can head out.”

“Awesome!” He stood outside the door to her room as she got changed, talking enthusiastically about how he’d timed it so it was warm enough to go out, but also in the middle of the week so there wouldn’t be a lot of people out, especially this late at night. It was both surprising and endearing that he thought this ahead so much. She stepped out while he was still monologuing, and he quieted immediately.

“What?” She put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing, you just look lovely is all.” He blushed and added, “Not that you don’t normally, it’s just I don’t- you-” His ears flattened against his head and he hunched over in defeat. “Never mind.”

Giggling, she patted him on the head in what she hoped was a comforting way. Tonight was going to be interesting, she could already tell.

-----------------------------

When she agreed to being carried bridal style across Paris, she had expected that she would have spent more time pretending to be surprised and amazed at the views that he was showing her. Instead, she was suprised at how much she genuinely enjoyed looking out on the vistas he was showing her, relearning the beauty of the city she had thought she had known so well. Still, there was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind.

As they leaned against the railing in the bell tower of Notre Dame - the one spot of the evening she did know well - she asked him, “Chat? Have you ever shown Ladybug any of this?”

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t. I’d love to, of course, but I don’t think she’d appreciate it.”

That rubbed her the wrong way, but she tried to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. “I’m sure Ladybug would like the view too, you know.”

“Oh definitely,” he replied with a sad smile. “I just don’t think she’d want me there. She might think it would get my hopes up, that it would be too much like a date. Or she’d probably just decline. My Ladybug leads a pretty busy life, you know.”

“I’m sure she’d find time for her kitty…” Marinette trailed off, unsure if she was telling the truth or not. In all honesty, her friends in her civilian life weren’t the only ones she had neglected at times. It was only now that she was realizing that she’d slowly been drifting away from Chat Noir as well. She frantically rummaged through her memories. When was the last time they’d just sat and talked in the masks?

“Don’t be so sure.” He sighed. “I can’t blame her, though. I’m the one that is struggling with taking no for an answer. Maybe if I were stronger I could move on, but…” He shook his head. “Sorry, I meant for this to be fun and not about me complaining.”

After a moment of hesitation, she stepped up beside him and patted his back. “I’d rather help my friend stop being miserable than have fun in ignorance. How ‘bout you tell me all about it?”

Her stomach growled, catching them both by surprised. He laughed, loud and genuine while Marinette pouted at him through her blush.

“Sure, but what if talk over dinner?”

“Are we heading home then?”

He gave her a sly grin. “Not quite.”

---------------------------------

As the waiter left the empty room, lit only by a single light from above and the candles on the table, Marinette could only wonder at what sort of life her partner lead when he went on patrols. Somehow, he’d befriended the owner of this Italian restaurant and now he let him use this extra space whenever Chat wanted to stop by for a meal after hours. Only this time, they’d make special preparations since it was ‘Chat and his plus one.’

“I get the feeling there is a story behind all this,” she said as she leaned forward on the table. A bottle of wine sat on the table, their glasses yet to be filled since Chat had declined the waiter’s offer to fill them.

“Compared to fighting supervillains, it really isn’t interesting,” he replied while opening the corked bottle with his claws. To her surprise, he pulled it off easily. “I stopped the owner from being mugged one night and he wouldn’t let me leave until I promised to visit his restaurant to repay him.” He stopped talking for a moment to fill their glasses halfway. “I try to pay him for the occasional dish, but he always refuses.”

“So then you decided to set all this up for our outing today? Seems a bit much, even for you.”

He actually seemed embarrassed as he ducked his head and blushed. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.” He put his hand on his heart while taking a sip of the wine. “Cat’s honor. I just wanted a meal since I figured we’d get hungry. Velio was the one that did all this,” he gestured to the high-class set up of their table.

“Velio? Is that the owner?” Chat nodded. “Hm… I see.” She took a sip from her glass. “So what do you want to talk about? I think we were on the topic of Ladybug earlier.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather talk about something else.”

She reached out to take his hand in hers. “Trust me when I say I understand completely. I’ve been there - I’m still there. We can’t change what we’ve done, and how we’ve done them. But we can do our best to move on, right?” Inside the comfort of her own mind she wondered - was she talking to Chat, or herself?

Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah, I suppose so. It just… for so long, I’ve felt like she was the one, you know?” His eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “It's hard to just move on from a whole life that I’ve built up with her in my head. Especially knowing how me pushing so hard for it might have been what destroyed it.”

How could she answer that without outting herself as Ladybug? How could she reply that she would've given him a chance if it weren't for Adrien? Instead, they sat in silence. For a few minutes, there was nothing else to be said that they didn’t both already feel. Still holding hands tightly, they let a few tears escape and simply basked in the understanding that they both understood each other perfectly - perhaps the first time Marinette had felt that with anyone beyond her kwami in a long time. When they heard the waiter approaching, they quickly dabbed at their eyes and pulled back their hands, pretending that everything was fine as he delivered their meals.

Their talk didn’t stray back into heavy territory, but then it didn’t need to. Both were content just to chat with each other over a well cooked Italian meal - a meal which Marinette noted was suspiciously like the one that Chat had made for her birthday. Maybe she could convince Chat to bring her here more often, or at least bring take out from here more often.

And if that meant she got to share more dinners with Chat Noir, well, she certainly wouldn’t complain.

----------------------

There was one last stop Adrien had wanted to make before taking Marinette home, but he needed to wait until it was dark enough to ensure their privacy.

He landed at the ice skating rink and she raised an eyebrow, still latched onto his neck as he cradled her in his arms. It had been a little awkward at first, being so close together, but it wasn’t like they were strangers to physical contact. The many times they’d fallen asleep on each other during a movie marathon attested to that. Besides, although it wasn’t as cold as it had been in the last few weeks, it was still chilly enough that a little extra body heat went a long way. Especially since it was clear she didn’t like the winter weather in the least.

A lot like someone else he knows...

“I don’t know about this, kitty. I’m not exactly graceful.” Marinette brought him out of his thoughts as he set her down, pushing aside strange coincidences that were lining up in his head. “And besides, isn’t this place closed for the night?”

Adrien grinned. “Normally, it is, but thankfully I have connections.”

“What’d you do this time? Save their cat from a tree?”

“No, I rented it for an hour and paid extra to rent it at night.” The honesty caught Marinette off her guard, but instead of being touched, she smacked him on the arm. “Hey, what was that for?”

“How much did you spend?! You shouldn’t be going around blowing your money on me like this, you ridiculous cat!” Despite her words, she was smiling, though there was a little worry in her eyes.

“A gentlecat never spends and tells.” She didn’t need to know it had cost three hundred euros, even after a superhero discount. He could easily afford it, after all.

“That’s not a saying.”

“It is and you’d know that if you spent more time around gentlecats,” he took her by the hand and dragged her towards the locker rooms. “Now come on, there are some shoes and gloves this way.” He looked back at her playfully. “And maybe some pads if you are really feeling clumsy.”

She huffed, but didn’t argue. “...Fine. But you better not let me fall!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, purrincess.”

------------------

Chat left her seated on the benches as he ducked into the back to grab them their gear, leaving Marinette alone with her thoughts for a few moments. It had been a strange night so far. But strange hadn’t been bad. Sailing through Paris through the strength of her partner rather than her own power had been hard to get used to, but it was exhilarating once she was. Visiting the spots that Chat had discovered when he was supposed to be patrolling. And he promised that there was more where those came from, if she wanted to try this again.

She had told him maybe, but what she had wanted to say was yes, absolutely.

“Here you go,” Chat appeared beside her, passing her a bag of equipment as he took a seat beside her. He held the shoes in his hands and asked, “Do you think Ladybug would be mad at me if I used my frost powers to skip putting on these?”

“I think that would be an abuse of power. I can’t imagine Ladybug would think otherwise.”

Laughing, he replied, “Yeah, you’re probably right. She always viewed this,” he flexed his claws on the hand that his ring was on, “as more of a duty or part time job.”

“Really?” While he wasn’t wrong, Marinette was surprised. “What do you see it as?”

He stopped trying to leverage his boots off as he considered her question. His response left her stunned.

“An escape.”

Before she could question it, he’d managed to pop the boot off with a victorious shout, quickly replacing it with a warm sock and ice skate. It reminded her that she hadn’t even gotten started and she rushed to catch up, still pondering the implications of Chat’s reply. She knew he didn’t have a great home life, but could fighting supervillains and risking his life really be better than what he had before? While she started working on the pads, he glanced down at her boots and knelt down to untie them.

“Uh, Chat, what are you doing?”

“No offense, purrincess, but that knot was going to come undone really quick.” He looked up at her with a grin. “I’m purrfectly happy to catch you when you fall tonight, but even so I’d like to keep it to a minimum.”

She grumbled, but let him redo the lacing and knots. This was the first time she’d gone ice skating in almost ten years, after all, and he seemed to know what he was doing. Soon enough and she was taking her first wobbling steps on the ice, Chat skating along beside her as if he belonged there. Watching him move so effortlessly required her to take her eyes off what she was doing, though, and suddenly the ice was rushing up to meet her. As she screwed her eyes shut and waited for the impact, a pair of strong arms caught her

As he set her back on her feet, he smiled gently “Here - take my hand and we’ll do a few laps around the rink. That should help you get your bearing.”

With some trepidation - she had some pride, after all - she took his hand and felt herself being pulled slowly along the edge of the rink. One hand in Chat’s and the other along the barrier, she spent most of her time focused on their movement and staying on two feet. After a couple laps, they drifted away from the wall, but she still had her Chat Noir lifeline. She became comfortable enough to take her eyes off the ground and start enjoying how she was gliding across the ice.

Even then, she didn’t let go of Chat’s hand. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when her legs began to ache and wobble. Maybe he could sense her fatigue, or maybe he was starting to get exhausted too, but either way, he lead them to the benches and they got out of their gear.

Taking off her safety pads, Marinette said with a chuckle, “With you around, I don’t think I needed these. I’ll remember that for the next time.”

Chat Noir looked over at her in surprise, which quickly shifted to a pleasant smile. “So there will be a next time, then?”

“Well,” she said while undoing Chat’s knots, “it doesn’t quite beat a movie marathon or home cooked Italian, but a change of pace is nice, don’t you think?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he laughed.

----------------

Not long after, Marinette was back home and under her sheets. From what Adrien had noticed with her barely being able to keep her eyes open, she would probably be out cold already. He stopped for a moment to look back into her cozy apartment, one foot on the windowsill and one foot inside her space.

“Good night, Marinette.”

And then he was gone.

#MarichatMay2019 #Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Marichat #Tikki #ml fanfiction #my writing #Rekindle

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sociallyacceptablemadness · 6 years

Note

57 for the kiss prompts? :3

Breaking The Kiss To Say Something, Staying So Close That You’re Murmuring Into Each Other’s Mouths

It’s not exact to the prompt, but pretty close :-D Nate/Nora, prewar

It’s the day after the funeral when Nate gathers the courage to drive down to Quincy. He’d seen Nora there yesterday, standing by the casket between her grandparents, staring at nothing as the priest droned on through the service. He parks in front of the old blue house and hesitates, sweating in the August heat. They’d only been on a few dates and he’d heard about Jane’s death through the grapevine of classmates and church gossip; he feels both compelled to visit and like he’s intruding.

He’s still sitting there, wringing his hands on the steering wheel, when the front door opens and her grandmother steps out onto the porch. She grabs the mail from the box and begins shuffling through it before she notices Nate sitting in her driveway like an idiot.

It’s remarkable how much Nora resembles Renee, despite the difference in age, though Renee’s smile is softer and more welcoming than Nora’s bright, mischievous grin. She waves and totters down the steps as he steps guiltily out of the car.

“Nate,” she says, enfolding him in a hug. “How nice of you to drop by.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” he replies, “I just wanted to - you know -”

“No intrusion at all,” Renee says. Her hug is gentle and warm and she smells like cinnamon. He remembers with an inward cringe that it’s almost dinnertime and that Renee rarely skips Sunday dinner.

“Come on in. Nora’s just upstairs.”

He nods dumbly and lets her lead the way back inside. Inside, the smells are stronger, beef and carrots mingling with sugar and cinnamon in an odd but inviting combination. Sitting on the couch, a book on his lap, is Nora’s grandfather, George. He looks up when Renee bustles in and his eyes narrow a bit.

Nate has never been sure if George likes him, hates him, or just tolerates him. In contrast to Renee’s grandmotherly warmth, George is hard and quiet, steel-gray hair combed neatly back from equally steely gray eyes. His clothes are always neatly pressed and trim, tailored over a powerful frame. That, coupled with the ropy scar that stretches from one ear across his jaw and neck before disappearing below his collar, makes him look like a cartoon supervillain instead of a retired lawyer.

“Look who stopped by,” Renee says, patting Nate’s shoulder. “I’ve got dinner going if you’d like to join us, honey.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Nate repeats and Renee rolls her eyes.

“Oh, hush with that,” she says, waving one hand as if she’s brushing away a fly. “Nora needs some company besides a pair of old fogies like us.”

“I’ll go get her,” George rumbles, carefully pressing a bookmark into his spot. Renee turns a sharp eye on him.

“Don’t you bother her,” she replies, “Nate, you can head upstairs. You remember which one her bedroom is?”

Nate feels the blood rise in his face as he nods. Renee gives him a gentle shove towards the door as George glares. He scurries up and away without saying anything.

Nora’s room is at the top of the stairs. The door is heavy, carved oak and there’s still a plaque on it, hand-carved and painted with fading daisy blossoms, that reads Jane. After her mother’s last hospitalization, Nora officially moved in, taking her mother’s childhood space. She’d been back and forth between there and the apartment in Southie, but Nate supposes this new arrangement will be permanent now.

He takes a steadying breath and knocks quietly.

The voice on the other side of the door is thin, worn, but with a bite of aggravation.

“Leave me alone,” it calls, “I’m fine.”

“It’s, um -- it’s Nate,” he calls back, tripping over his own tongue.

“What?”

“It’s Nate,” he replies, a bit louder. He feels so awkward and he’s not even sure why.

There’s a shuffling behind the door and the creak of a loose floorboard, and then the door swings open. Nora stands there, long red hair disheveled and hanging in tangles over her shoulders, dark circles under her eyes. She’s clad in a faded bathrobe, a wrinkled shirt that brushes the tops of her thighs, and nothing else.

Nate glances down and his throat tightens as the air leaves his lungs. He wrenches his gaze back up but that’s no good either; she’s obviously not wearing a bra and her breasts are round and perked under the shirt. It’s the most he’s ever seen of any girl, much less one with Nora’s looks.

She follows his gaze and swears, whipping her bathrobe closed and turning on her heel. Nate turns away, too late, and hears another door slam.

“Sorry,” she calls from inside the bathroom, “I thought you were my grandmother. Gimme a minute.”

“No problem,” Nate squeaks. All the blood rushing from his head makes him dizzy and he feels like he might just pass out right there on her threshold.

“You can come in. Sit down, I’ll be quick.” Nate nods even though she can’t see him and flops into the armchair next to her bed. He came to give her his condolences and ask if she needed anything, be a gentleman and a friend, but his traitorous mind is wandering towards places he’s never been, places that involve those small breasts and round thighs.

He swallows and tries to compose himself, glancing around at anything to distract himself. There’s an Unstoppables poster on the wall, one corner peeling a bit. Hanging from a hook on the vanity is a pair of pointe shoes, one stuffed inside the other and tied together with pale pink ribbons. Opposite the shoes is a rosary, hanging like a warning for wayward teen boys.

The bathroom door opens and Nora emerges, fully dressed, her hair combed into a braid and smoothed back from her face. Nate realizes suddenly that she seems unusually pale, her freckles standing out on her gaunt cheeks. She looks like she’s lost weight, too, though it’s hard to tell because she was always tiny.

“Did you call earlier?” she asks, still standing in front of the bathroom door, shifting from one foot to the next.

“Uh, no -- sorry, I probably should have --”

She shakes her head vigorously. “No, no,” she replies, “The stupid phone has been ringing off the hook all weekend. I’m glad you came by.”

Nate smiles nervously. “I don’t want to intrude.”

It seems to be his theme song today.

Nora returns the smile, if a bit watery. “No, I mean it. It’s good to see you. I’ve been meaning to call you myself.”

Their last date was two weeks ago, and it had gone well -- at least Nate thinks so. It was becoming easier to act normal around her, to feel less awkward and more like he could breathe easily with her in the room. Now, sitting in her room, a discarded dress puddled on the floor at his feet, he’s back to feeling like his brain isn’t running on all cylinders.

“Do you want to --” she begins, but is interrupted by a gentle call of her name up the stairs. She sighs.

“I guess that’s dinner,” she says, “Please stay. My grandfather is going to smother me if he asks if I’m okay one more time.”

“He won’t mind me here?”

She shrugs. “If he does, he can get over it.”

Dinner is a hefty pot roast swimming in homemade gravy, accompanied by piles of roasted vegetables. It tastes wonderful and Renee carries the conversation as she dishes a second and third helping onto Nate’s plate, asking him about his family and his college plans, delighted that he’s going to MU and telling him about her days there decades prior. Nate can feel George’s eyes on him occasionally, but his attention seems mostly focused on his granddaughter.

Nora picks at her food, taking a few token bites when he asks if she’s alright, but when Renee clears the dishes away, her plate is mostly untouched. Nate stands to help Renee and she gives him a grateful smile.

“This is the first time she’s come down in days,” she whispers to him as they stand side by side at the sink, “Thank you for sticking around. Ignore George; he’s just overprotective.”

Nate can’t help but glance over at Nora and her grandfather. He’s leaned toward her, one hand over hers, as she stares at the wall absently.

“Nate, you want to walk into town with me?” she asks suddenly, pulling away from her grandfather. “I need some air.”

Nate freezes. Renee nudges him conspiratorially and he nearly stumbles away from the sink.

“I made coffee cake, but it needs a bit longer to cook,” she says, “Go walk it off, you two.”

He nods numbly and lets Nora lead him out the front door and down the sidewalk. Quincy proper is maybe a mile away, just past the train station, the sounds of the small city muted in the suburbs. They’re still in sight of the house when Nora leans toward him and laces her fingers through his. He tries not to stiffen, not wanting to give her the impression that the touch is unwelcome, but he’s surprised. Their four dates have been a lot of fun, but they’ve never touched beyond the occasional hand brush. Walking with her, hand in hand, feels odd and comfortable at the same time.

Nora doesn’t seem to have a destination in mind and they walk aimlessly, unhurried, down the sidewalk as the sun sets behind them. He doesn’t pay attention to where they’re going until Nora slows.

“Did you come because you wanted to?”

Nate stops and turns to her, baffled. “What?”

“You didn’t come by because your parents said to or something?”

Nate stares and shakes his head. “No. Why?”

She doesn’t answer, just meets his eyes and bites her lower lip. Her eyes are the same gray as her grandfather’s, but warm and placid like the bay. He’s busy admiring them when she looks away.

“I wanted to call you,” she says, “But I didn’t know if I should have.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” he replies, “I’ve missed hanging out with you.”

She smiles, genuinely this time, and he feels his stomach flop in a way that’s both pleasant and nauseating. He can feel his heart rate pick up a bit as his mouth goes dry. Without thinking about what he’s doing, he leans forward, intending to meet her lips, and instead bumps the tip of her nose, and not in a cute way. She laughs and he pulls back, the back of his neck burning. He looks down and adjusts his glasses, anything to avoid her eyes.

“Try again,” she says, putting her hands on his shoulders. He’s taller than her, enough so that he has to bend a bit to reach her mouth. His heart thuds against his ribcage, pounding so hard he’s certain she can hear it. It ends too quickly when she pulls back, but she’s still smiling.

“That was good.”

He nods stupidly. He can’t say if it was good or not because he was mostly concentrating on making sure he was kissing the right part of her. She moves toward him and stops just before their lips meet. Her voice is light and breathy and it makes his head spin the same way it did when she opened the door in her pajamas.

“Thank you, Nate.”

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