#michelle jones is uncomfortable with emotion | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spicysagittarius · 2 years

Text

if only you knew, part v

Alternating POV: MJ has an interesting proposal for Peter. When he agrees, they realise their situation is messier than they thought. Both of them are confused by new feelings and repressed emotions and begin to realise how much they actually need each other.

Rated E

Peter and Michelle spend the next four days apart without a single text. He assumes she’s still processing Thursday evening, because he certainly is. It’s all he can fucking think about.

After she left — around 5pm — he realised that he’d completely blown Ned off.. He swore to himself then that his best friend would never, ever find out that the reason he didn’t hear the four FaceTime calls was because he was balls-deep in the annoying classmate he’d always ranted about. Seriously, though…if he can’t even understand the situation himself, how can Ned?

If someone had told him a mere week ago that he’d be having mind-blowing sex with Michelle Jones-Watson, Peter would’ve laughed out loud.

Yet here he is. He knows what it feels like to be inside her; what she sounds like, what her orgasms look like, and not an ounce of him feels repulsed or put-off. Not only that, but he feels the exact opposite: it was fucking awesome and he wants to do it again.

Over the weekend, Peter waits for the expected regret to set in. Friday goes by, then Saturday, then Sunday and Monday. He assumes the complexity of the situation just needs time to settle.

But when Tuesday morning rolls around, it still hasn’t come. He’s freaked out that he’s not freaked out. What the fuck is he supposed to do now? Dunn’s lecture catches up to him like the gigantic rock in Raiders of the Lost Ark — racing him to his fate. 0

I could really use that kind of luck right now, he thinks as he anxiously enters the room, knowing she’s gotten there early.

For the first time since…well, ever, she doesn’t glare at him when she spots him or completely ignores him as she usually does. When he finds her eyes, they’re already on his, and she offers him a small smile.

Of all the possibilities he’d imagined — anger, avoidance, embarrassment, and every other negative emotion — a fucking half-smile would never have occurred to him. He’s surprised but hopeful. After everything he’s learned about Michelle through Em, continuing their hatred for each other makes him uncomfortable.

Throughout the lecture, they sit on opposite sides of the room as they’ve done every week. They accidentally make eye contact a few times, and to Peter’s relief, her gaze remains more positive than he’s ever seen it.

Which isn’t saying much, but he’ll take what he can get.

Before long, Dunn wraps up another lecture. Every Tuesday that he and Michelle have met in the library after class, they’ve walked there separately, even though the library was only a few buildings away. It had been a way to avoid each other as long as they could, and they’d created a routine: she always went ahead of him. It worked. Her freakishly long legs allow her to walk twice as fast, saving them a few precious minutes apart every week.

It’s this routine that causes him to blink twice when she doesn’t immediately rush out of the room and instead locks eyes with him. He watches curiously as she heads in his direction, towards the set of doors near him rather than the set near her.

When she’s close, Michelle jerks her head towards the exit. “Library?”

“Erm, yeah, of course.” Peter’s quick to grab his things and follow her out of the room.

They walk down to the library in silence, but it’s not the uncomfortable, suffocating silence they’re used to. It’s…nice.

Michelle’s the first one to say anything once they’ve settled into their usual spot. “So…erm, before we get into the project, I wanted to…” she exhales, furrowing her brows slightly. After a moment, she huffs a small laugh. “I’m kind of the worst at having serious conversations, but I was thinking we should probably, you know, talk about…Thursday…because honestly, I don’t want things to be super weird for the rest of the semester.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Peter’s relieved. “I- I completely agree. I didn’t know how you felt about it, and I didn’t even know how I felt about it, and I was, just…super fucking anxious to see you again.”

“Me too,” she admits quietly. “And I know that, er, hooking up and all makes things super complicated, so I wanted to…” she fiddles with her sleeve. “We need to stop being such dicks to each other.”

The surprises just keep fucking coming, Peter thinks, timidly running his hand through his curls. “I know.”

“I realised that I’ve spent so much energy on hating you, and it’s exhausting. Obviously, a few things about you frustrate me, and I’m not saying I’m gonna do a whole 180. But whatever’s going on between us is way too complex to continue the way we were.”

He takes it all in, nodding in agreement. “I agree, and— and same, but I’m confused. This is, like, honestly the last thing I expected,” he confesses. “You’ve never had a problem with complicated before. Tell me if I’m wrong, but there’s got to be another reason you’re willing to make some sort of peace with me.”

Michelle, he can tell, would be a terrible liar. It’s obvious to him because the moment he finishes the sentence, her cheeks flush and her knee starts to bounce rapidly. “Well…” she mumbles.

Ah, so there is something else. Peter leans forward in encouragement.

She groans, hanging her head in her hands. Her long curls hide her persistent blush and he can barely hear her as she stutters: “ThursdaywasfunandIkindofwanttodothatagainmaybe?”

“Wha—?” He’d caught maybe 10% of that.

Michelle lifts her head from her palms, the blush having deepened. “Thursday was fun and I kind of want to do it again?” It’s a squeak with a definite question mark after it.

And fuck, Peter can’t help but grin. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Not if you’re gonna react like that.”

“I’m not making fun, I swear. I just, like…did not think that you’d admit it.”

“Er…admit it?”

“Well, yeah. The sex was incredible and you came three times. I kinda figured you didn’t hate it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Michelle grumbles. “And seriously, keep it down if you’re gonna talk about sex in a school library, idiot.”

He lowers his voice but not without smirking. “What, like you kept it down last week?”

“Cut it out or consider my proposition revoked,” she whispers threateningly. Peter just grins wider.

“Well, shit. We can’t have that.”

The banter, he realises, mirrors that of Ben and Em’s. It’s them, of course, but joking with her like that in person is ten times as satisfying.

Peter swears he sees the same conclusion in her eyes when she coughs awkwardly. “We should, er, probably work on the presentation and then revisit that topic of discussion. You know. “

“Sounds good to me.”

After she works up the courage to talk to Peter, MJ has to admit that it’s one of the best ideas she’s ever had.

Parker still irritates her pretty regularly — it’s not like they’d hugged and made up like forgiving toddlers, after all. What’s nice about their current standing is that the annoyance and rival-esque feud of theirs is no longer the focus.

Well. That’s solely due to the fact that since their conversation, the only interactions they’ve had outside the library occur when one of them booty-calls the other.

For example.

That Friday, they figure out that they’re both free and hey, we’re both horny and home alone and whose bedroom should we use this time?

(It ends up being hers. She can’t argue with him when he points out that they’d gone to his last time.)

The sex is just as mind-blowing as the first time, to MJ’s disbelief, and she finds that he’s unfairly strong when he fucks her against the wall of her shower. Seriously, though, she’s utterly stumped on how he’s able to do it so effortlessly.

She rewards him by dropping to her knees and sucking him off before they could even grab towels, her knees burning on the shitty carpet of her bedroom. She barely notices. Peter’s groans and curses turn her on far more than she’s ready to admit.

This time, when they part ways, it’s much less awkward. Michelle’s relieved at that and can’t believe her current situation.

Peter’s texting her the very next day a few minutes after one a.m.

Parker: u up?

She snorts out loud.

With that line, it’s a hard no.

Parker: Thought so. Come over.

She’a definitely not giving in.

Give me 20 mins.

Parker: ;)

And fifteen minutes later, MJ’s raising her hand to knock on his door but he swings it open before she can, tugging her inside.

Like she said earlier, though, their flirty banter doesn’t usually leave either of their beds. When they’re in a lecture or the library, an onlooker wouldn’t assume they’re anything more than occasionally-petty acquaintances.

That’s how, three weeks after she propositions him, Michelle Jones and Peter Parker have a friends-with-benefits type of arrangement. Friends is definitely an exaggeration, but they rarely quarrel like enemies now, so she’s not sure what to call it.

The casual agreement seriously couldn’t be any more perfect for them both. MJ’s stopped worrying about her dry spell and Peter’s shockingly slept with the same person twice — something she know’s he’s only done once before.

(It’s true, Parker’s a slut, but she’s secretly thankful she gets to reap the benefits of all the experience he has.)

For nearly a month now, they’ve fucked almost every other day and have still managed to separate it from their academic relationship. It’s a perfect balance and she ’s able to breathe and she’s desperate for it to stay that way.

It’s been almost a month since Peter and Michelle have formed what he jokingly calls a “sexy truce”. When she’d first suggested it, casually hooking up like this, he’d thought it was the greatest idea of all time. Michelle’s certainly annoying but fuck if she isn’t also ridiculously clever for that one.

Over time, though, something changes for Peter. He’s not sure what it is exactly, but it feels complicated and unnerving and dangerous.

The last few times they’ve slept together, she’s come over to his. Her roommates are home more often now and she’s refused to have him over when they are, saying that they’d only bombard her with invasive questions about it.

That means that the last few times they’ve slept together, she’s leaving too soon with that small smile of hers and he’s watched her go with a strange squeeze in his chest. That is what he considers unnerving and dangerous and can’t seem to identify despite hours of forfeited sleep.

To Peter’s dismay, the ache only worsens the next time she comes over. The sex is incredible as always: she’d shyly admitted to a recent fantasy of being gagged and who would he be to deny her? Once he’s stuffed her panties in her mouth, he fucks her with her legs on his shoulders and pins her wrists to the mattress. One particular whine causes him to meet her eyes and in them, he swears he catches a glimpse of something beyond raw desire. It feels familiar, and even whilst fucking her like this, he realises it’s the same gaze he’s caught himself with when he watches her leave.

All of the sudden his chest feels tight and it’s too difficult, too intimate to keep looking at her like this.

Michelle lets out a surprised moan when he pulls out of her, gripping her hips as he flips her onto her stomach. Peter chooses to focus on her squeals and gasps once he’s fit inside her again, trying to drown his confusion in the heat of the moment.

After they’re both finished and cleaned up, Peter walks to his sink in boxers to wash his face, just like he always does when she gets ready to leave. This time, though, he doesn’t hear the usual sounds of rustling fabric and the zipper of her jeans.

Curious, he turns back to his bed and is surprised to see her sitting on his bed, knees held tight to her chest. He melts just a tiny bit when he sees that she’s put on the t-shirt he had on earlier. Michelle just meets his questioning eyes with a ghost of a smile.

He quickly finishes his face and moves to sit next to her. “Everything okay?”

Michelle nods. “Yeah.” Her tone doesn’t match the reassuring answer at all: it’s sad and small and tight.

“Michelle.”

“I’m fine, Peter.” Still tight and sad but also angry and he’s worried he’s done something to upset her.”

“Okay.” He exhales. “But if there was something—“

“My mom died seven years ago today,” she admits quietly. They haven’t been personal or vulnerable with each other since they’d called each other different names. The personal nature of her words catches him off-guard.

“Michelle—“

“You don’t need to say anything. I don’t even know why I just told you that. I don’t know.” He watches her struggle for the right words. “November 18th. It’s my least favourite day of the year. Which is probably expected, I guess, but it’s always felt unbearable and I think this is the first year I haven’t completely collapsed.” Her eyes stay on the carpet below them whilst his stay on her.

He has no idea what to say but his heart shatters for her.

Michelle lets out a bitter, humourless chuckle. “And not only did I manage to get out of bed today, I also haven't been, like, crippled by immobilising grief the entire day. I know it’s been almost a decade and I should’ve moved on awhile ago but…god, I dread that anniversary the whole fucking year.”

Peter shakes his head fiercely. “Grief and loss don’t have expiration dates, Michelle. There’s…there’s no deadline you’ve missed. You can’t do that to yourself.”

She looks at him then and the tears in her eyes break his heart all over again. Everything in him is desperate to hold her and keep her safe and happy and content. He watches her sniff and blink rapidly. “It’s my fault.”

“What is?”

“What happened to my mom.”

“Michelle,” he breathes. He can’t take it anymore and moves to wrap his arms around her, tapping her knees in silent request so he doesn’t startle her. When she nods, he envelops her fully in an embrace against his torso. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

“It’s one of the last things my dad said to me.”

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, feeling a painful ache in his throat; a repressed sob on her behalf. “What?”

“A few weeks before he got busted, we had this…this stupid argument about me going to a friend’s house. He was angry that I went there so often and I told him it was because his addiction made me terrified of him. It…it did. But he didn’t take it very well. God, I wish I didn’t remember it so…so vividly, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget the exact moment he told me that I the reason he used.” Her body wracks with a shuddered sob. “If I hadn’t slept through my alarm and missed the bus, she’d be alive, he said. And he was right. I’m the reason they’re both gone,”

He feels tears leak past his eyelashes, holding her tight to him as she struggles to breathe. After a minute, he leans back a few inches so he can see her face, her head relying on his shoulder to keep her upright.

If she was even a little bit less of a mess right now, MJ would probably feel embarrassed to share such an intimate moment with someone she’d hated less than a month ago.

But she is a complete mess. So she doesn’t.

Instead, she timidly meets Peter’s eyes as he watches her with something powerful and important and it feels so fucking strange.

MJ decides she doesn’t mind it, though, when he reaches up to brush a few stray tears from her face with a tender thumb. His glassy eyes mirror hers and the sight causes her heart to drop to her stomach.

“Em,” he exhales almost reverently. The heart in her stomach beats deafeningly loud. “You can’t possibly be blamed for what happened to either of them.” His voice, while full of emotion, is firm and sure. “I was the same age when my uncle died. He was out looking for me after we’d had this argument, and happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and…and someone shot him.”

Michelle tightens her grip on his bicep.

“I blamed myself for years. The only reason I don’t anymore is because of my aunt. If she hadn’t been so strong after he died…if she’d directed her grief and anger towards me…I don’t know how I would’ve survived. But you did and you’re here and when I told you I was proud of you, I meant it.”

She feels the urge to break down because no one’s said those words to her face in more than seven years.

“I’d bet anything that your mom would be, just, overwhelmingly proud of who you’ve become after everything you’ve been through.”

This is what makes her start to cry again and she’s grateful when he holds her to his chest.

After some time — five minutes or five hours, she isn’t sure — Michelle pulls away from him and brings a hand up to cup his face. She knows he understands what she means by the gesture: that she’s thankful for every word but can’t find the right way to use her own and tell him aloud.

She’s not sure how, but she just knows he gets it.

She’s also not sure if it’s him or her who initiates it, but in the next moment, their lips meet and it’s unlike any other kiss they’ve had before.

There’s lust and want like there always is but this time there’s intimacy and passion and MJ has to fight her every instinct to run from it. She chooses to free herself from fear and doubt just this once.

It’s not too long before he’s pushing inside her after gently guiding her back to the mattress. She’s so used to needy, rough, careless sex with Peter that when his thrusts remain slow and deep she’s gasping at the overload of new sensations. MJ has never experienced this kind of sex before and she can tell he hasn’t either by the overwhelming vulnerability in his eyes.

As the pressure builds, they maintain eye contact that she’s normally intimidated by. Instead of feeling exposed and afraid, she feels more connected to him in this moment than she’s felt towards anyone. The intimacy even trumps what Kathryn Crosby dramatically describes love to be.

Huh?

She’s caught off guard by her train of thought, but before she can understand why her mind had ended up there, the intensity of Peter’s eyes and his skin and the feel of him inside her is too much and she tumbles over the edge. As she clenches around him, gasping, her eyes stay locked on his. He finishes seconds later the same way and he breathes her name like a prayer against her lips.

This time, she leaves her clothes strewn across the floor, entangled with his the way their limbs are on the twin bed, heavy with exhaustion.

And this time, she stays.

#not as much smut in this one bc it’s focused on emotional intimacy!#yuck ik #if only you knew #petermj #petermj fic #spideychelle fic #peter parker x michelle jones #petermj smut

53 notes · View notes

ao3feed-irondadspiderson · 1 year

Text

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43801188

Throw a Wrench in my Plans (I’ll Rewrite Them for You) by Frogdottir Peter didn't mean to seem ungrateful. It was really nice that Tony had been more present lately, it was just...he didn't feel secure like this. What if he made a mistake again? Was Tony just going to throw him to the curb again? So, the teen decided that was that. He wouldn't grow attached to the man, and neither of them had to think too hard about it. It should've been easy, but for whatever reason, the vigilante couldn't seem to get off the hook that easily. or Tumblr prompt: Tony never genuinely apologizes for the Vulture incident. Peter begins to feel uncomfortable around Tony because of it. Words: 11203, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Teenage Drama, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Hurt Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, POV Tony Stark, POV Peter Parker, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Awesome Michelle Jones, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Minor Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, spiderson, Peter Parker has abandonment issues, but it's ok, because the adults in his life are HEALTHY, Angst with a Happy Ending

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

12 notes · View notes

wallcrawlparker · 6 months

Text

— character info sheet.

(repost, don’t reblog)

name: Peter Benjamin Parker

name meaning: Peter (Greek) Meaning: Rock; Stone Benjamin (Hebrew) Meaning: Son of the South Parker (Old English) Meaning: Park Keeper

nicknames: Pete, Petey-Pie (Thanks Deadpool), Spidey, Underoos/Kid (Mister Stark, I swear), Penis Parker (Flash is very penis-obsessed..), Queens (Steve)

nicknames meaning: Pete - Shortened version of Peter Petey-Pie - Deadpool thinks Peter's adorable Spidey - Nickname for Spider Spoods - The mun is weird and likes to go with that Underoos / Kid - Tony Stark will never get over Peter's first suit being 'a onesie', and his age Penis Parker - Flash is a jealous brat with 0 creativity Queens - During his fight with Steve Rogers, he mentioned he was from Queens

alias/es: Spider-Man

Gender/Sexual identity: Cis Male, Panromantic and Demisexual

ethnicity: American with Irish Heritage from his mother one (i do what i want) pictures you like best of your muse:

The 'please say sike' pic

The hungriest of Spider Boys

The cutest of babies

three h/cs you never told anyone:

Peter's always been really skilled with science and tech... as well as stubborn. The fake Iron Man mask and gauntlet he is seen wearing at the Stark Expo when he was 5 were made by him - using the LEDs and bits from electronic parts of a toy ambulance he'd been gifted - having hated the sound it made anyway, he destroyed it and made himself something he actually liked. He was very proud.

Peter is convinced and insists that KAREN, FRIDAY and DUM-E can, in fact, feel emotions and have their own preferences like anyone else. He's working on discovering their favourite song, colour, and movie. Yes, he puts on a movie for them to 'watch' from time to time, and has Karen play music on patrols so she can get acquainted with various kinds.

Peter doesn't want people to ever feel unwelcome or uncomfortable and will go out of his way to make them feel safe and wanted - as he has struggled with feeling abandoned himself. For example, he always subtly adds Loki-friendly items around the compound when the God is around to help lessen tension; green blanket on the couch, extra chair at the table, etc. He doesn't take credit, he wants it to seem natural.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

Reading on the ceiling, it feels grounding (HAH, get it?)

Playing videogames with other heroes

building and repairing tech in the labs

eight people your character likes / loves:

May Parker

Ben Parker

Ned Leads

Michelle Jones

Tony Stark

Happy

The Avengers

two things your character regrets:

Not being able to protect Tony

Messing with the first spell from Strange... it would have been easier to deal with Spiderman being forgotten than himself entirely

two phobias your character has:

Claustrophobia

Disappointing others

Abandonment

tagged by: @ssolessurvivor

tagging: any of my bb's, y'all feel free to tag me

#Aesthetics || Peter Parker #Aesthetics || Spider Man #Peter Parker RP #Spider Man RP #Marvel RP #Spiderman RP

3 notes · View notes

ao3feed-friendsofspiderman · 1 year

Text

Throw a Wrench in my Plans (I’ll Rewrite Them for You)

by Frogdottir

Peter didn't mean to seem ungrateful. It was really nice that Tony had been more present lately, it was just...he didn't feel secure like this. What if he made a mistake again? Was Tony just going to throw him to the curb again? So, the teen decided that was that. He wouldn't grow attached to the man, and neither of them had to think too hard about it. It should've been easy, but for whatever reason, the vigilante just couldn’t seem to get off the hook.

or Tumblr prompt: Tony never genuinely apologizes for the Vulture incident. Peter begins to feel uncomfortable around Tony because of it.

Words: 11203, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Teenage Drama, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Hurt Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, POV Tony Stark, POV Peter Parker, Good Friend Ned Leeds, Awesome Michelle Jones, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Minor Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, spiderson, Peter Parker has abandonment issues, but it's ok, because the adults in his life are HEALTHY, Angst with a Happy Ending

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/43801188

#Peter Parker #Michelle Jones #Ned Leeds #FOS #fanfic

0 notes

cherrykindness · 3 years

Text

there'll be happiness after you |•

Pairing(s): Ex!Peter Parker x Female Stark!Reader, Peter Parker x Michelle Jones, Harry Osborn x Female Stark!Reader

Warning(s): angst, small hints of fluff if you squint closely, swearing, conflicting emotions, cheating (?), harry osborn will be a knight in shining armor.

Summary: chase two girls, lose the one

part one of the stars around my scars mini-series

wc: 1,4k

"Holy shit, I found the perfect guy. I'm being one hundred percent honest now." Peter heard Gwen say as she practically shoved a cell phone in your face, causing you to step back minimally to look at the glowing display. "This guy will be the future father of your children, Y/N, and no one can tell me otherwise."

Peter felt his stomach bubble, an uncomfortable feeling running through his whole body at the sight of the smile that appeared on your lips as you stared at one of the profiles on that stupid app. He rolled his eyes, unable to contain his frustration at seeing yet another of Gwen's attempts to push you into a date.

You two had broken up three months ago. Peter had broken up with you three months ago.

As much as it hurt to accept it, the boy you loved was no longer there. You knew it. So did Peter.

A few conflicting weeks preceded the turbulent breakup. Somehow MJ had become as recurrent in his thoughts as you were. Peter found himself waiting anxiously for a message from the curly haired girl, even though he knew he would get nothing more than a friendly question about how he was. He also stared at her much longer than would be considered normal for someone with a girlfriend, having to look away quickly whenever MJ stared back at him with that suspicious and questioning look.

It was difficult to admit this to himself, but Peter began to doubt his feelings for you. This had never happened before, and he was frightened to the point of ignoring you for weeks in a stupid attempt to get his thoughts in order.

He had left you in the dark and hated himself for it. You were too good for someone like him, and he knew it. You were completely out of his league, and yet he still managed to fuck things up with you.

Dialogue had been the key. After a week and a half of constant absences and shallow answers, you had finally decided to put an end to that story by knocking on the door of Peter's house at seven o'clock at night.

He remembered clearly how he felt his hands sweat when he heard May enthusiastically say your name, greeting you cordially and starting a conversation about homemade recipes as she always did when you came over.

When you entered his room, the affectionate atmosphere you shared with his aunt changed dramatically. Peter noticed how misty and pleading your eyes were, how your fingers drummed nervously on your thigh while you were sitting in his desk chair.

"What's going on, Peter?" You inquired after a few seconds of silence, and Peter noticed how your voice sounded in a tone that was more worried than irritated. This made things even more difficult for him; Peter hated to see you worried. If you were mad, if you confronted him with an angry expression and your forefinger on his chest, it might be easier to admit that he had given up. "You- you didn't go to the date we arranged yesterday. This is the third time I've tried to approach you and do something we used to do every weekend, but you just left me alone in that restaurant and didn't answer any of my messages."

Peter sighed, bowing his head in shame. He didn't want to raise his eyes and see that hurt look on your face, face the consequences of his absence and neglect of your relationship.

"Did I hurt you?" You continued in a low voice and Peter felt his heart break. You felt guilty. You felt guilty about something he had been putting you through for weeks. Peter hated himself.

"Oh my God, no. This has nothing to do with you, Y/N." He shook his head vehemently, staring at you for the first time since you arrived in the room.

When your gazes met, everything seemed to fall into place. That look Peter gave you only showed itself in very specific situations; like when he couldn't accompany you and Morgan trick-or-treating on Halloween, when the dinner celebrating your first year of dating had to be postponed when he was seriously injured during a mission, or when he felt he was overdoing it with the force of his blows to you during training. Remorse.

"I-I don't think I love you anymore."

Peter saw up close the moment when realization took over your eyes. You widened your orbs minimally, your mouth opening and closing in search of an answer that didn't exist. He knew that you had tried your best to hold back the tears, but when it all became unbearable and the heavy drops fell down your cheeks, Peter felt his own eyes glisten simultaneously.

"You just think?" You asked with difficulty, swallowing dryly to quell the sobs that insisted on wanting to escape from your throat. "Maybe- maybe we can work it out, Pete. It might just be a conflicting moment, or... I don't know, maybe you're just confused."

Peter hid his head between his hands to hide his crying, but he knew his vulnerability was in evidence by the way his shoulders shook and the salt water dripped onto his pajama pants.

He couldn't help but wonder if that was the shitty job he had done in almost two years of dating. Didn't you know you deserved better? Hadn't Peter made you feel confident enough to know that you shouldn't be anyone's fucking doubt? You were Y/N Stark, for God's sake! Who was Peter to ask you to stay until your feelings finally aligned?

"I think I might be in love with someone else." He admitted muffledly, his face still hidden.

The room had suddenly gone silent, only the sound of his uncompassionate breathing filling the untimely stillness.

"Who is it?" Peter heard you inquire softly, making his teeth clench.

He chose not to answer immediately, and perhaps that was his biggest mistake. He kept quiet as the loud sobs and grunts left your mouth in a way that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Peter didn't have to say it out loud, and at that moment he couldn't tell whether it was a blessing or a curse; you already knew which name would ring out around the room before he even had the courage to utter it.

"Oh my God, I'm so stupid." You choked as you stood up.

Peter did the same, watching helplessly as you paced back and forth, putting your hair back nervously as your cheeks took on an increasingly red tint. "You two," you interrupted yourself, closing your eyes tightly as if interrupting an unrealistic image, "you two kissed or-"

"No, no, no." He repeated relentlessly, feeling disgusted with himself just for making you think of that possibility. "We- we didn't do anything, Y/N, I swear. I don't even know if she feels the same way. I would never intentionally hurt you, but- I don't know. I don't even know what to tell you. I think- I think we can't choose who we fall in love with."

Peter's head bowed again, his eyes falling to where his fingers wrapped anxiously.

"I meant everything I said while we were together, Y/N." He murmured timidly. "Nothing was a lie. I-I really loved you. I loved you very much and I didn't mean for that to ha-"

"I have to go." You cut him off, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of the sweatshirt you were wearing. "I'll sort through everything you left in my room, and get it to you tomorrow or whatever, but I-I really need to go, Peter."

Peter. No more Pete, baby or love. Peter.

You were already on your back when he nodded, the strap of your purse clamped firmly on your shoulder as you opened the door.

"Oh, and you're right," you turned to face him one last time, "If I had my choice, I certainly wouldn't fall in love with you."

"Let me evaluate." Liz leaned over chair, approaching you and Gwen. "Damn, he's hot." She hissed. "What do you think, Betty?" Allen turned the phone to the blonde, arching an eyebrow.

The girl's face flushed immediately as she saw the image of the shirtless boy, his well-defined torso standing out as he posed on a beach beside some friends.

"W-well," she stammered, blinking repeatedly as she tried to evade Ned's assertive gaze, "he's cute."

"Cute?" Gwen repeated indignantly, shaking her head. "I want him to use that jaw to slice me up like french fries."

"Oh my Gosh, Gwen." You laughed out loud, putting your hand over your mouth when you remembered that you were in a public place. "You're so nasty."

Peter gave an automatic little smile as he heard your laugh, stiffening instantly as he felt shy fingers searching for his under the table. He felt his throat dry up, forcing himself to smile at MJ, who was sitting next to him.

"Are you okay?" She asked low, rubbing his back affectionately.

Peter nodded quickly, pressing his hand over hers.

"Yeah, I'm just tired."

Michelle hummed in agreement, turning her attention back to the circle of friends.

"Okay, let me give you a summary of his biography so MJ can give the verdict." Liz clinked a spoon over a bowl of milk shake as if about to make a very important announcement at a fancy event.

Peter looked around the table, laughing as he saw Brad's beak while Gwen stood with her head resting on his shoulder, probably sulking at his girlfriend's praises of the still unknown boy.

"His name is Harry, he is nineteen and he loves dogs. He's a student-"

"Y/N is a cat person." Peter couldn't hold the words in his own mouth, feeling his ear heat up as he gained the table's full attention. "I'm just saying."

"Man, we're talking about a guy with fluffy curls and has an abdomen sculpted by angels," Gwen took sides again, speaking so slowly that Peter felt like a child learning the alphabet, "if he has a giraffe, then Y/N will be a giraffe person."

"Period." Liz agreed, shaking her head. Peter snorted, leaning back in his chair again. "As I was saying, he's a student at MIT." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Okay, that's sexy." MJ admitted, raising her hands in surrender.

"What?" Peter stammered, staring at her indignantly. "That's not sexy."

"Man, that's sexy." Ned opined for the first time since the discussion began, shaking his shoulders when Peter glared at him reproachfully.

"And look at that body." Brad commented as he looked at the cell phone Liz had handed him. "I would lick any alcoholic beverage that was put in those abs."

Gwen nodded quickly, agreeing with her boyfriend's words before passing the smartphone to Peter. The curly haired boy begrudgingly looked at the display, his brow furrowed as he ran his eyes through all the information available on the screen. Harry looked tall, much taller than Peter, his jaw set just as he was used to seeing in the leading men from those romance movies you always made him watch.

Peter hated how there seemed to be nothing to complain about, nothing that seemed convincing enough to make you give up on giving that guy a chance. He looked perfect; a complete package decorated millimeter by millimeter with pretty gift paper and a pink bow.

Peter didn't want to attribute his reluctance to see you with someone else to jealousy, to selfishness. You had been his best friend for a long time before you finally ventured into a relationship, you were the daughter of his mentor and the most adorable girl he had ever met. Peter was simply concerned, nothing more.

"Just be careful." He said between a sigh, reaching out to pass the phone to you again.

You bit your lip, nodding as your fingers brushed along the way. Peter felt that burst of electricity that always happened when your skins touched, and knew that you too had been affected by the way your hand instantly twitched.

He noticed how your shoulders bent, your head tilted slightly to hide from your friends any kind of emotion that might show on your face.

"Well, now that you already have the blessing of us all," Gwen joked, arching her eyebrows in your direction, "you're going to drag to the right, aren't you?"

You were hesitant. Peter could tell this just by your body language, the way an answer took a while to come out of your mouth and your eyes remaining apprehensive as they ran across the table. He noticed out of the corner of his eye how your gaze stayed on him longer than it did on the others, but he didn't dare to stare back at you – he was afraid of the emotion that showed in his eyes.

"Uh, maybe it's good not to spend all day in the lab like I've been doing for the past few weeks." You said finally, shaking your shoulders. There was a loud celebration by your friends, Gwen asking the waitress for a few more bowls of milk shake for an official toast.

The match had been instantaneous, and Peter couldn't help but feel annoyed at the smile that grew on his face when he saw that Harry hadn't waited more than a few minutes to strike up a conversation with you.

When the orders arrived at the table and your cell phone was placed on the wooden surface again, Peter's eyes instantly turned to the case that protected your smartphone; it was slightly stained by time and some colorful scratches that he was sure were made by Morgan, but the drawings that you two had made on the rubbery material were still noticeable. Peter had given you that case during the school trip to Europe, bought at a local market for less than ten pounds. He had been deeply insecure about that gift; being a Stark, there weren't many innovative things he could give you (nothing that was in his budget, anyway).

The idea of giving you something you could customize seemed minimally decent in Peter's conception and, surprisingly, you assured him with a bright smile that it was the best present anyone had ever given you. The object was already fully decorated by the end of the evening, hearts and statements written by Peter with a black pen adorning all the white material. The Avengers had been making jokes about it for weeks, always making fun of how cheesy you two could be, but secretly commenting on how cute you were.

Peter's eyes stayed on your cell phone longer than they should have, sweet memories distracting him from whatever else was going on around the table. He raised his eyes, surprised to find yours already fixed on him. You gave him a closed-lipped smile, putting the display up as you whispered something he could discern as "sorry".

He mentally beat himself up as he realized that you had misinterpreted him; as if his persistent look showed discomfort, as if he didn't want you to used something so important to what you both had, especially in MJ's presence. Peter was about to call you to explain himself, but gave up when he saw you in a lively conversation with Liz, showing her something that Harry had sent you. He sighed, resting his head on his palm as he watched you fall in love with someone else.

#imagine peter parker #peter parker angst #peter x reader #stark reader #tom holland angst #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker fluff

331 notes · View notes

annab-nana · 3 years

Text

Bookshelf Confessions - Peter Parker

Peter and MJ are caught in the middle between a relationship and a friendship, a situationship if you will. There are definitely some feelings between the both of them, but when she overhears Peter talking to Ned about them in the library, she pulls you in to listen in with her and the conversation takes a turn you both didn’t expect.

A/N: Hi guys! So this was a late night tiktok inspiration. Here is the video I got it from and I changed the words up a bit to better fit how Peter would talk and to better describe MJ as well but anyway, I hope you enjoy! Oh also, if you guys really want it, I could do a part 2 to this but we will see :)

Part 1 of Books Tell Secrets and Lies

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 3.2k+

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

“Ned, I need to talk to you,” Peter whispered to the boy as he grabbed his arm and pulled him between a couple of bookshelves in the library. School had just ended, and the mop of brown curls dragged his best friend all the way to the room filled with books and resources as soon as class had been dismissed.

Though it was a library and you were supposed to be silent, the way Peter was being exceptionally quiet and almost secretive obviously caught the eye of an observant and nosy Michelle Jones. She was about to join the pair, but upon noticing that her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—seemed to try to be hiding something from her, she stopped. If Peter ever had a problem, he would round all three of you guys up to discuss it, needing all of the brilliant sound minds of his buddies to help him make a decision. So, when he was only talking to Ned without you and her included, she got a weird feeling and hung back behind the shelf next to them to eavesdrop.

You were minding your own business as you searched for a book to write your English report—which you thought was ridiculous that you already had a big assignment to complete when it was only the second week into your senior year but that was a topic for another day—and you were walking past the aisles to find where the fiction books of author’s with the last name starting with Z would be found when a hand reached out to grip your arm and tug you into a nearby aisle. You were about to protest until you saw it was only your harmless yet curious best friend. Before you could open your mouth to ask why the hell she dragged you here, her hand quickly but silently covered your mouth, prohibiting you from speaking at all. Her other hand came up to her own mouth as she placed a finger in front of her lips signaling you to be quiet. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone.

Y/n: ??

She pointed towards the bookshelf and you heard the mumblings of one Peter Parker, the top of his head hard to miss when it was peering above the dusty books that lined the metal shelf.

You, MJ, Ned, and Peter made quite the friend group. Though you all were fairly different, your similarities brought you together and you loved having them by your side. What made it even better is that when MJ and Peter started their “relationship”, it didn’t mess up the dynamic at all. You all still hung out and you and Ned weren’t uncomfortable with their closeness at all, though you both did want to know if they were actually dating or not.

Since the Europe trip, they have been a lot closer. There was no denying that. You and Ned both have seen the stolen glances and holding hands under the lunch table. There was something going on there that they didn’t want to let on or they were just simply happy being together more often.

When you heard about Peter’s plan to woo MJ over the summer, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you were not a little disappointed. You were ecstatic for MJ, but your heart longed to be in her place. He had looked to you for help in making her swoon since you had been her best friend for years and while you would always help Peter no matter what, it hurt to see him in awe of another girl. Once you found out that MJ felt the same towards Peter and you knew his plan would work, you pushed those thoughts and feelings to the back of your mind, far where no one could find them. You had been a tad upset for a moment, but when you saw how happy they were, there was nothing more you could do but support them.

You still were confused as to why you both were hiding from your friends behind a bookshelf before MJ started typing furiously on her phone to text you.

MJ: peter is being hella sus and i wanna get to the bottom of it

Y/n: you little detective

MJ smirked at you as you both leaned in a little closer to hear better.

“I’ve been hanging out with MJ,” Peter started, running a hand through those beautiful chestnut curls and focusing on Ned who was smiling innocently and nodding along to the conversation. “Everybody thinks we’re dating because I spend my weekends hanging at her house and watching movies or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Ned chuckled, clueless to where the conversation was heading as were you. MJ had a deep feeling in her gut that it would lead to him telling Ned he wants to break up with her even though they were not actually together, but she wasn’t quite sure that was all he had to say.

“She’s on the decathlon team, one of the smartest people I know, and she’s could even be prom queen if she wasn’t so against it.” Both the boys lightly laughed at that as you all knew MJ too well. You had to hold back your giggle while you and MJ shared an amused look before continuing to listen in on the conversation.

“While we study chemistry, there’s a little more chemistry between us if you know what I mean,” you watched the bashful boy sputter while pink dusted his cheeks. You looked to MJ who found the floor to be much more interesting than your gaze at the moment.

‘You guys fucked? And you didn’t tell me,’ you mouthed after placing your fingers under her chin to make her look up at you. Her eyes widened and she shook her head profusely before mouthing back, ‘no, just made out a lot.’ That put your heart at ease a bit yet you still weren’t fond of it, but Peter’s next words caught the attention of you both.

“But I have a secret I must confess,” Peter sighed, eyes flitting down almost as if in shame. Your eyebrows furrowed while your puzzled expression met MJ’s worried one. Your hand reached out to grab hers and your thumb rubbed smoothly over her knuckles, a small gesture you knew provided her with much comfort and though she was trying not to show it, you knew she was getting anxious.

“It’s not her laugh or the way she’d dress. She’s not the reason I’ve been thinking about love,” he muttered with his head still down. Ned let out a light gasp at what he was hinting at and your heart broke for MJ. You tugged at her hand and tried to step forward to lead her out of the library, this conversation being one she did not need to hear, but she remained put. She gave you a sad nod as if saying ‘it’s okay y/n’, so you conceded and stayed with her for emotional support. But you knew the second she left, you would rip Peter a new one if she hadn’t done it first.

“Every weekend we hang out, I lose my cool when she’s around over stupid little things that shouldn’t even bother me,” Peter stated with a huff, angry with himself because of how he felt. If he could love MJ and not feel at war with himself and his feelings, then that is what he would do but he was growing tired of the constant battle in his head and in his heart. “And I don’t know if this is just a crush.”

So, he liked someone else for sure because that was the second time he mentioned something like that. You were growing angry with the boy and you knew that even if he possessed superhuman abilities, your rage would overpower him. Your eyes mixed with sadness and anger sought out MJ again to check on her. She was remaining closed off as always, but she had begun to open up a bit more recently and Peter’s actions were putting her back where she was.

“How do I find the words to tell her,” Peter paused, eyes darting around before meeting Ned’s, “that I’m in love with her best friend.”

You and MJ both stiffened and for some reason, you felt uncomfortable holding her hand now. You were doing it to comfort her as you always have, but you were the girl her ‘boyfriend’ was in love with. Your wide eyes remained trained on Peter and Ned as you waited for them to further confirm your suspicions.

“Y/n?” Ned gawked at his best friend. He had zero clue that Peter felt like this, but he did know you had a small crush on Peter when y’all were formulating the plan to get MJ to fall in love with him. Ned had seen the way you looked at Peter and one day, he saw the tears that brimmed your eyes before you excused yourself to the bathroom, Peter too focused on perfecting each step to see that you were distraught. Ned left as well to go ‘get something from his locker’ and he found you fanning your eyes dry and blowing some air out to calm yourself.

“You like him, don’t you?” Ned questioned as you turned around to hide your embarrassment. You were crying over Peter Parker while helping him get with your best friend. It was silly.

“Hey,” he spoke calmly as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to hide from me. I saw the tears before you left but y/n, why are you helping him with this if you know he will end up with someone else? Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yes, it hurts like hell but what am I supposed to do? Tell him I like him?” you spoke sarcastically but of course, he took it literally.

“Yes! That’s exactly what you should do,” he encouraged while you shook your head.

“I can’t do that to him, Ned. He is head over heels in love with MJ. Anyone with eyes can see that and though she will not let anyone know, I can tell she has a crush on him too so who am I to get in the way of that? They will be happy together and I will get over him. I will be okay, Ned,” you told him as you quickly wiped away your tears.

“Promise you’ll be okay?” Ned inquired, holding out a pinky for you to link yours with his. The childish act made you smile, and you did just that.

“I promise as long as you don’t tell him.” Ned nodded in agreement and you two unlinked pinkies. “Now I am gonna actually go to the bathroom to make sure I look fine, and I’ll be back,” you informed him before heading into the restroom.

“Yeah, Ned. I fucked up. I am going to ruin the whole group and their friendship. MJ will hate me and so will y/n for hurting MJ,” he sighed, leaning against the shelf to his right and keeping his eyes down. He felt so bad for this, but this was how he felt and he could not keep lying to MJ.

“Peter, you’re an idiot if you think they’re gonna let you ruin their friendship. They were best friends before you and they will be best friends after you too. You’re starting to sound like Flash,” Ned giggled while Peter shot him a glare, quietening him for a moment. “Sorry, but you should’ve come to this revelation back in June. Things would’ve been a lot easier.”

You had forgotten that they didn’t know you were there, and MJ was about to hear that you had been in love with her fling for a while and didn’t tell her. Again, you tried to get her to leave to spare her from hearing any more, but her feet remained planted. She was not going anywhere and if she wasn’t, you weren’t either. So, you stayed and listened beside her.

“What do you mean by that?” Peter quizzed and Ned’s eyes widened, realizing that he said too much. He let out a sigh before giving in and telling him.

“Y/n’s... kinda been in love with you since before the summer. I don’t know how much before, but she liked you when we were planning how to get MJ to fall in love with you during the Europe trip. I saw her tear up once and then I found out.”

MJ’s hand dropped from your own, her face reading shock and hurt when you looked at her. You felt like shit and you hadn’t really done anything wrong. Maybe you should have told her that you used to have a crush on Peter, but it seemed irrelevant since they were closer, and you never stood a chance so why add drama when it wasn’t needed? She took a couple of steps back before walking to leave the library, leaving you to follow.

“MJ, wait,” you called after her, but she was long gone. Tears filled your eyes as you watched your best friend storm away through the hall where you stood from the library’s entrance. You could have followed her further, but you knew MJ and you knew she’d rather be alone right now.

“Y/n...” you heard the faint voice of Peter whisper from behind you, a warm hand clasping over your shoulder as you turned to look at his freckled face. Under any other circumstances, you would’ve been thrilled to hear that Peter had liked you back, but your best friend’s heart was broken by him because of you as well and you just wanted it all to be fixed.

“You really had to tell him. I promised you I’d be okay if you didn’t tell him,” you spoke to Ned, choosing to ignore Peter’s presence in front of you for the moment.

“I’m sorry. It slipped and I couldn’t get out of it. I didn’t know you guys were right there.” He was right. It was not completely his fault. You two were invading on their privacy. You can’t help what you hear.

“Y/n,” Peter repeated, and your tear-brimmed eyes snapped to his honey brown ones.

“What?” You did not mean to come off angry, but you were aggravated to say the least.

“Are you okay?” he asked genuinely. The softness of his voice and eyes were pulling you in but you were so irritated with him at the same time.

“No,” you whispered, breaking your promise to Ned as he did to you. Peter stepped forward to hug you but your hand on his chest stopped him. “You can’t comfort me anymore. Do you realize what you have done? You have broken MJ’s heart, a heart I didn’t know was capable of breaking. If she sees us hugging, that will just drive the knife in deeper. You hurt me by dragging me into the middle of all this and because I didn’t tell her that I liked you, she probably hates me too.”

Saying that last little bit broke your heart. Your best friend probably hated you. Your crush liked you back, but you could not be with him which was more infuriating than longing for him from afar. You felt angry, upset, and exposed as your biggest secret was out. All the emotions whirled within you and you did let a few tears fall.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. This was not my intention nor how I wanted this to go at all. I’m so sorry,” he softly spoke before trying to hug you again as he desperately wanted to comfort you. He hated to see you upset. This time, you let him. You let your arms circle his waist and your head cry into his chest. You let him wrap his arms around your neck and press his lips to your head, something he had always done when trying to calm you down. You felt like you would have no friends left if you pushed Peter away so why do it? The reason why you should have spoke up and broke you two apart in an instant.

“Wow,” she muttered, saddened brown eyes dancing between you and Peter. “I came back because I wanted to talk this out before I stayed in my room and was left alone in my head, but you know what? I don’t really feel like talking anymore.”

“No! MJ, wait! Please!” you tried to stop her but her cold eyes and raised hand warned you to give it a rest.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk but until then leave me the hell alone.” And with that, her head of unruly brown crinkles and curls left the building of Midtown for the weekend.

The interaction made you feel even worse as a sob bubbled up your throat. You had never been like this with MJ, and you were scared you were going to lose her forever. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound of you crying and Peter was quick to wrap his arms around you again, but now, you shoved him away.

“No, Peter! Can’t you see what this has done? We can’t be together. I don’t want to see you until MJ and I are on good terms and maybe not even then. I just...” you backed away towards the door, “I need to be alone. Ned, I’ll text you later.”

Ned nodded at you with a sad smile and held his pinky up toward you, his silent way of asking if you were okay similar to the promise you two had made months ago. While the action caused your lips to turn upwards only slightly, you shook your head to answer the question. He understood and he and Peter both watched you leave as well.

“Well, I guess I was wrong. You can come between their friendship,” Ned spoke up, trying to lighten the mood with a joke that was way too soon for Peter to enjoy if he ever would.

“Ned, not now. I’ve accidentally broken two girls’ hearts and they both happened to be my best friends. I feel like shit,” he groaned, rubbing a frustrated hand down his face. “I’m just gonna go on patrol to distract myself and then swing home.”

“Okay well, I’m gonna bring this to y/n and check on her before going home. I’d check on MJ too, but she scares me so I’ll just text or call her later,” Ned chuckled while holding up a copy of The Book Thief, the exact book you were hunting prior to the whole fiasco. “But you need to figure out what to do. You can’t ruin their friendship. I understand if they don’t want to be friends with us, but you can’t tear them apart.”

“I know, I know. I really fucked up,” Peter huffed while stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do but I’m going to fix this.”

“You better,” Ned stated before he left the school himself. Now all of his friends had left and were angry with him in different ways. He crushed MJ’s heart and then he crushed yours even more by unintentionally making your best friend hate you. Ned was more disappointed than angry, and he felt bad himself for spilling your secret. This whole thing was a huge mess that Peter had to fix to bring his favorite people back together and he was beginning to wish he had just kept his mouth shut in the first place.

Part 2: A Chemical Aquaintance ->

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

tag list: @rebelemilu @starrybrock @mxltifandoms06 @mendesblurb @dpaccione @msgorillagripcoochie @vintageobx @ilovejjmaybank @bibliophilewednesday @marjorie189 @sovereignparker @drewstarkeysbitchh

click here to be added to the taglist

#peter #peter parker #peter imagine #peter x reader #peter fanfic #peter fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #marvel #books tell secrets and lies

189 notes · View notes

momentofmemory · 3 years

Text

FICTOBER 2020 - day thirty

Prompt #27: “Give me that.”

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker

Words: 1326

Author’s Note: Set post endgame pre ffh, Peter’s acting weird—but different weird from his normal weird. MJ’s determined to find out why. Fluff, MJ POV.

>> light me up

MJ’s pretty used to Peter doing weird things.

In fact, ‘Peter doing weird things’ is pretty much the reason she started paying attention to him in the first place: the sudden dropping out of extracurriculars, skipping classes when he’d rarely even been tardy before, zoning out in the middle of decathlon on questions even Charles could get right.

(That, and he’s cute.)

(Maybe.)

(A little.)

But regardless, Peter tends to reserve his weird behavior for getting out of school activities—so when he all but vaults over her to get into their arts classroom before her, she can be forgiven for being taken a little off guard.

“Peter, what the—” MJ freezes when Mrs. Pats glances in her direction—“fudge?”

He’s hastily taking down one of the photographs hanging on the wall, and trying very hard to ignore her.

Naturally, she walks directly up to him and tries to snatch the photograph away.

“MJ!” He’s faster than she is, to an obnoxious degree, and stuffs it into the folder sticking out of his backpack just in time. “What’re you—hi?”

“Hi,” MJ says, like they didn’t literally just walk to class together. “What’s with the photo?”

“Photo?”

It’s times like these that she has to question her ‘Peter Parker is Spider-Man’ calculations, because wow is he bad at lying. “Yeah. Photo. The one you just put in your bag, genius.”

“Oh. That one.” He shoves the folder deeper into his backpack. “Mr. Catz likes to display his favourite class photo of the week as like, a motivation for us to do well or something.”

MJ glances at the corkboard—sure enough, ’Photos of the Week’ is spelled out in multicolored foam sticker letters across the top.

“Huh,” she says. Then she nods towards his backpack, which he’s been not-so-surreptitiously sliding behind him. “So is it yours, or you just stealing some random freshman’s pic?”

“Mine,” Peter says, clenching the straps a little tighter.

The clock in the back of the room ticks away the seconds of their free period, Mrs. Pats dutifully grading assignments in the corner. Peter doesn’t offer anything further.

“Great, so.” MJ clears her throat. “You gonna show me what you did to earn a spot in Mr. Catz’s heart, or—”

“No.”

The rejection is so abrupt MJ barely has time to parse it before Peter’s brushed past her, walking to the far side of the room and pointedly taking out his sketches for the still life study that’s due on Wednesday.

MJ stands stock still.

A year ago (six years ago?) it probably wouldn’t have stung as much. But ever since the Blip, she, Ned, and Peter—and really, most of their class from Before—had hung out a lot more often. There’s nothing quite like a worldwide disaster to force people together, and while she wouldn’t’ve chosen it, acting as a full-fledged member of their group had been—nice.

Except, apparently she isn’t one, since he’s determined to keep something as simple as a photograph a secret from her.

His mistake. If there’s one thing that’s sure to get her to figure something out, it’s being told that she can’t.

MJ slinks to over to the seat next to his, feigns that she dropped something, and then deliberately leverages her backpack so that it swings off her shoulder and crashes into his—

Spilling its contents out all over the floor.

“Ha—”

He’s still definitely faster than she is, but she has the added benefit of surprise this time.

She snatches up the folder and flips it open to the offending photograph before Peter can fully register what’s happening.

“Wait, no no no—” Peter lunges to grab it from her, but MJ swings it out of reach (one of the many benefits of being tall). “Give me that!”

"Nope,” MJ says, darting to the opposite side of the table. “We’re going to find out exactly what was so important you could show it to your class but not to—”

MJ freezes mid-sentence, because she’s finally registered the subject of the photograph and—

And it’s her.

She’s sitting out on her fire escape, legs crossed, head tilted just slightly up and laughing at someone out of frame. Her posture is relaxed, nestled comfortably in the lower left third of the composition, and light from the setting sun spills across her face. It’s shot in tight focus—only her face and hands in full clarity, the rest a soft blur.

It’s the sort of photo that would’ve been taken quickly, the moment there and gone in an instant, but not on a whim. It would’ve been captured by someone paying careful attention.

“MJ?”

Her eyes flick up to meet his.

“Michelle, I’m—I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I didn’t think he’d choose it; I just submitted it because I thought it turned out well enough for a grade. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I can just—we don’t have to—”

He trails off, pleading silently with her to say something.

MJ rests her hand on the table, tracing the curvature of her smile with her fingers. She remembers the night he must’ve taken it.

They’d been at her apartment—her, Ned, Betty, and Peter—going over interior and exterior angles, congruency, and transitive vs substitution properties for the hundredth time, in anticipation of the Geometry test on Monday.

It’d been a good night. To feel like she was part of a group; to have just a moment to be a normal teenager instead of a survivor of a world-ending event.

And apparently, Peter had thought so, too.

She clears her throat against the rush of emotions that brings, not the least of which is the heat that floods her cheeks.

“The background’s a little overexposed,” she manages, squinting at it like she’s looking closer, when honestly it’s an attempt to mask the hopeful smile she wants to make instead. “And I—I mean, your subject—it could use a little more light on the camera facing side, probably. A reflector would help with that.”

She hands the photo back to Peter, and he accepts it wordlessly. She doesn’t miss the crestfallen look that passes over his face.

She swallows.

“But, uh. If you’d used that, you probably would’ve lost the candidness of the shot.” She bites her lip, then takes the plunge. “And it… you wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt a really fun evening.”

Peter lights up with a speed that astonishes her. “Yeah?”

MJ very, very willfully does not smile, because she’s already given away too much. “Yeah. You know. As best as you can get spending a Friday evening on math homework.”

Peter laughs, and he sounds relieved—and hopeful? Maybe she’s projecting. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s great, I just—I mean, I took it without you knowing, and I didn’t want to make you feel weird.”

It definitely, definitely makes her feel weird. And exposed. And—

Seen.

“It’s fine,” she says. “It was good enough from a technically standpoint for Catz to be impressed. And, um.” She shrugs and looks intently at her shoelaces. “…You can tell you put a lot of care into it.”

A pause.

Then: “It’s easy when my subject’s pretty great, too.”

MJ jerks her head up at that, but Peter’s already walking back over to the board and she doesn’t feel like broadcasting her wtf does that mean across the room.

Instead, sits back down in her chair and watches as he clips it back to the string. It’s definitely still weird seeing a picture of just her in their classroom.

Weird enough that she might have to adjust her ‘Peter Parker likes Michelle Jones’ calculations.

She grabs a pencil and starts working on her still life studies, deliberately not looking up when Peter comes back from his task to join her.

But if she happens to scoot her chair just a little bit closer to his, well.

It’s just because there’s better lighting.

#fictober20 #fanfiction #michelle jones #peter parker #spideychelle #spiderman

20 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Text

Track to the Future

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E (explicit sexual content) Word count: 7675 @spideychelleweek

Spideychelle Week Day 6: Only One Bed

Summary: Peter and MJ board the train to the academic decathlon tournament in New Orleans as friends, but after the booking company messes up Mr. Harrington's sleeping car room assignments and they're forced to share a compartment for the night, Peter hopes there's a chance they'll be more than friends by the time they have to, ahem, get off.

“…and if anyone needs anything at all during the night,” Mr. Harrington said, finally wrapping up his thorough Spending the Night on a Train Protocol, “Mr. Dell and I have compartments at either end of the car you’ll be sleeping in while your co-captains’ shared compartment is the first in the next car. Sometimes it’s easier to reach out to a peer if you’re experiencing any feelings of homesickness or stress ahead of tomorrow’s tournament. But remember, Mr. Dell and I are here to support you.”

“Nah, don’t knock on my door,” Mr. Dell said with a quick negative slice of his hand. “I’m taking a sleeping pill, you know the drill. I’ll also be putting my headphones on and turning the volume way up to sleep in a cocoon of music. I’m trying to spend as much of this trip as possible listening to jazz. By the time we roll into New Orleans, I’ll be fully immersed in the atmosphere.”

Peter’s eyes darted between the team’s chaperones as their group of ten sat crowded into adjacent booths in the dining car. The one person he was careful not to linger on was MJ. Things had been normal between them since boarding that afternoon―meaning they’d gotten in lots of quality moments of smiling at each other and looking swiftly away―until Mr. Harrington sprung on them the fact that they’d be sharing a sleeping cabin. Apparently, the train had double-booked a room, leaving the Midtown Academic Decathlon contingent one short. Their teachers (mostly one of them, after Mr. Dell begged not to be dragged into ‘this snafu’) had decided the best course of action was to pair up the captains. Surely, these were their two most responsible individuals. That’s what Peter assumed Mr. Harrington had been thinking. That and he probably hadn’t noticed the way Peter and MJ had been dancing around each other the past few months; as long as students were present, still breathing, and had all their limbs attached, he seemed satisfied. But Peter knew that he and MJ were going to have to be the real adults here and eventually confront the fact that they’d be spending the night on top of each other. Because bunk beds.

“Yeah, come find me or Peter if you need us,” MJ chimed in. Though her expression told Peter she was reluctant, the same instinct for leadership that made her a good captain was forcing her to speak up now. “Or text or something. I’ll keep my phone on.”

“Did you pack a phone charger?” Flash asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Yes.”

“Can I use it?”

“I’m offering you emotional support, not access to my belongings. Some things are sacred.”

“Pfft,” Flash scoffed. “You just don’t want me showing up to ask for it. Scared I’ll interrupt something while you and Penis are shacked up together?”

Ned laughed loudly.

“MJ and Peter?” he asked doubtfully. “Are you kidding? Those two aren’t into each other at all.”

Peter appreciated that his best friend was trying to cover for him (he’d kept Ned abreast of his crush on MJ as it developed), but this was verging on overcompensation and it’d only make Flash more suspicious. Subtly, Peter shook his head to tell Ned to cut it out and his friend fell silent.

“Please, everyone, just go to your rooms,” Mr. Harrington implored. “I’ll be around to check on each of you over the next twelve to fifteen minutes. Don’t switch rooms, don’t get up unless you’re using the bathroom or asking for help, and please, please do not fall off the train.”

“How do you think they’re going to manage that?” Mr. Dell wondered.

“Things happen, Julius. Be thankful you haven’t seen what I have.”

“I was there for that Mysterio nonsense in Europe, remember? I’ve seen plenty.”

“But not everything…” Mr. Harrington trailed off hauntingly. Peter and Ned exchanged a look that said, is this guy ok?

On that note, everyone trooped to the sleeping car with their bags and said goodnight to each other. By the end of the car, there were just Peter’s footsteps ahead and MJ’s behind. He touched the door to open it and the two of them stepped into the vestibule between cars. There was a loud rattle of the train in motion, not muffled like it was in the cars, and it suddenly felt as though they were very much separated from everyone else. Now would probably be a good time to break the ice over them sharing a room. When Peter turned around, MJ was right there, waiting for him to press the other door and let them into their car. His mouth opened, but he froze. Giving him a look like he was being a weirdo, she reached around him and opened the door herself. Peter laughed awkwardly and proceeded.

“So, this one, I guess,” he said as they came to the door of the first room. “Should we…” He glanced at the floor, then quickly up into his co-captain’s difficult-to-read face. “MJ, should we talk about how strange this is? Us sharing this tiny room?”

She nodded slowly, giving him a tight smile.

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Peter continued.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” MJ promised quickly.

“You’re not?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, ok. Great.”

They were still looking at each other, still standing in the corridor instead of either one of them moving to open their door.

“It’s relaxing,” MJ offered after a few seconds of silence.

Peter perked up a little, pushing his shoulders back.

“Sharing a room with me?”

“Being on a train. Quiet, you know? Hey, you ever read Murder on the Orient Express?”

“No, but I’m guessing somebody gets murdered?” Peter ventured.

“That’s the gist of it,” she agreed.

Was she afraid that was going to happen to them? Had she only taken the step of reaching out to their teammates because she was the one who was scared?

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he assured her.

MJ sighed.

“You’re probably right. We’re not that lucky.”

Peter was still puzzling over that comment―was MJ saying it’d be unlucky for all of them to reach Louisiana alive?―as she let them into their room. He looked around her to take it in. There really wasn’t much of it to take in. She’d said she wasn’t uncomfortable, but he was sure his instinct to lighten the mood wasn’t misplaced. Should he joke about the small space being cozy? No, that sounded like he was trying to imply something romantic. Talk about the tournament tomorrow and completely ignore their forced intimacy? No, he was too tired to keep that up for long, especially if she offered to run through practice questions with him. Maybe rock-paper-scissors to choose bunks? Yeah, that was an immediate and practical problem that needed to be solved.

He was looking around for an out of the way spot to shove his bag as he asked, “You want top or bottom?”

“Uhhhh,” MJ replied.

“You can think about it while I go brush my teeth,” Peter offered, finding a spot for his bag, then reaching in for his pajamas and toiletry kit.

“Oh, that’s not indecision you hear in my voice. Look.”

He straightened up at her instruction. She was pointing at the wall, where what he’d taken at a glance to be the second bed, ready to fold down, was placed. He looked closer. Oh shit. It wasn’t a bed. Or, it didn’t exactly look like one. Peter would’ve investigated further, but MJ was already kicking her shoes off and climbing up to stand on the bottom (only?) bunk for a closer inspection. She flipped what was supposed to be the top bunk down and it came with a clatter and a cascade of straps.

“It’s for luggage,” she informed him.

Oh, he heard her, but he still heard himself ask, “What?”

“Like a thing you put your bag on and, I don’t know, strap it down so it doesn’t land on your head while you’re sleeping.”

“So, it’s not a bed.”

MJ clipped the not-a-bed into place, dropped back to the floor, and rolled her eyes at him. Yeah, that had sounded pretty stupid, but the comment hadn’t really been for her; it was more Peter’s way of verbally processing their current circumstances. Those being: two co-captains and one bed that looked proportionate to the room. But the room was tiny, which meant the bed was narrow as hell and probably not intended for two people, even when those two people planned to share it, because physical contact was no big deal for them, because their relationship was at that stage, because they didn’t have to look away from each other whenever they started to hold the stare just a little too long. Fuck, Peter was freaking out.

“Um,” he told MJ, flailing his pajamas and toiletries around, “why don’t you… and I’ll…” Peter jerked his thumb towards the door and, nodding like there’d been some kind of agreement made, exited their room while his co-captain gave him an odd look.

In the corridor, he almost screamed.

“You guys are first up on my bedtime check-ins list!” Mr. Harrington announced, looking up from a clipboard.

“Oh,” Peter replied.

“Yep, no pressure, but I came to you and MJ first because I’m counting on you to put me at ease. Please don’t tell me there’s anything wrong with your room,” he added, voice turning desperate.

“What room? Oh, our room? The room MJ and I are sharing? Well, it…” He swallowed. “It’s great. Small, you know, but, um, definitely has two beds.”

“Do you want me to take a quick peek inside?” his teacher offered. “I’ve led dozens of student trips and I’ve gotten pretty darn good at spotting damaged amenities, traces of bedbugs… Not that I could really do anything for you at this point. The room’s already booked and there isn’t another one the two of you could switch to. I suppose you could take my room while I slept in a seat on one of the cars, but of course, mine only has the one bed.”

“That’s ok. Everything’s good. Nothing’s broken or bedbuggy.”

Mr. Harrington was still looking at Peter like he was waiting for him to stop putting on a brave face and let the adult do a quick sweep. He should probably let him. MJ had put the luggage rack back the way they’d found it and they could pretend they hadn’t discovered it wasn’t a second bed yet. That would be the honest thing to do, and very possibly the thing MJ would want him to do. It was just that instinct was telling Peter to protect this secret opportunity. This very innocent chance for them to… bond and stuff. He wasn’t really sure, he didn’t have a plan, but all of his plans that involved MJ involved figuring out how to get closer to her, not how to run away. Figuring out how to share a single bed in a cramped room with an entire night ahead of them was basically the Chance for Closeness jackpot. If she disagreed, she could easily storm out and go to Mr. Harrington. Or slap Peter right across his opportunistic face. Or pretend to be cool with it, wait ‘til he fell asleep, and get her revenge by squeezing his entire tube of toothpaste into one of his shoes, or cutting holes in all his boxers. (He was ready to swear that one wasn’t sexual; he’d just had some very specific nightmares when their entire acquaintance was about him being wildly intimidated by her, before they became friends and he evolved to being only moderately intimidated.)

“It’s no trouble,” Mr. Harrington promised.

“MJ’s changing in there right now,” Peter blurted. It was the perfect excuse and came to him on the spot. “You could come back after you check the other rooms, but we’ll probably be fine. Anyway, MJ and I are both, um, mature enough to ask for help if we need it. No need to worry about us.”

He gave his teacher a tense, closed-lipped smile. Mr. Harrington seemed relieved.

“See you both in the morning then.”

“Yep, no problem!”

The second their chaperone was gone back into the other car, Peter opened the door and saw a flash of MJ’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” she yelped.

“What are you doing?” he shot back, hastily turning away and shutting the door of their little compartment.

“Putting my pajamas on! You just told Harrington I was in here changing!”

“Yeah, well, if you heard that then you know I told him a lot of things I didn’t think were true!”

“The presence of more than one bed may be a blatant lie, but didn’t you consider that I might actually be changing? I’m done, by the way,” she concluded in a less indignant tone.

Peter turned back around. Before he could stop himself, his gaze zoomed down her body. Her oversized t-shirt read ‘MICHELLE OBAMA’S ARMS BRAIN’ and her loose turquoise shorts just about disappeared under its hem. With wide eyes, he forced his gaze back to MJ’s face.

“Put yours on,” she suggested, eyes flicking to his and away.

Ok, this was it. This wasn’t the way he’d expected it to go. He’d though there’d be some kind of conversation first, or at least an acknowledgement of their feelings. Carpe diem, Peter guessed. He took a deep breath―probably the deepest he’d ever taken when he wasn’t dressed as Spider-Man and attempting to lift something heavy―and peeled his t-shirt off.

“Oh my god, nerd, in the bathroom, not here! Don’t make me regret staying quietly in this room while you lied to our teacher’s face.”

Flustered, Peter threw on the shirt he’d brought to sleep in and left the room without picking the other one up from the floor. In the bathroom at the far end of the car, he brushed his teeth, then stared at his face in the mirror for a minute, pausing for comprehension that didn’t come. What was happening? What had happened in that room? What would happen when he went back? It would probably have been helpful to talk this through with Ned, but MJ was waiting for him to let her know the bathroom was free. She was also most likely waiting for him to explain what the fuck his thought process had been in assuring Mr. Harrington that there were two beds, since she obviously had not been expecting Peter to start taking his clothes off in front of her. Though she’d definitely looked when he had. He’d noticed that.

This time, he knocked before entering.

“You’re done with the bathroom?” MJ checked, folding her toothbrush and toothpaste into a facecloth.

“Brushed my teeth and everything. You wanna taste the mint? Smell,” Peter corrected, blushing ferociously. “Smell the mint. Never mind. You don’t wanna do that.” He started to raise his hands apologetically as she slipped past him to open the door. “Forget I―”

He shut up instantly when his rising hand brushed her breast through her t-shirt. Shit. His eyes locked on hers as his lips parted to apologize, but MJ fisted the front of his shirt and tugged him into a quick, firm kiss. She broke it and released him.

“Probably a good idea if we talk about this when I get back,” she muttered and fled.

Alone in their room, Peter would’ve done a backflip if he’d had the space. Option B was repacking his bag and mentally cataloguing the potential lab injuries listed on his Chemistry class WHMIS test as a method of subduing the erection that had started to perk up when MJ grabbed his shirt like that. So maybe her reaction to him undressing had been more shock than anger or violation. She’d certainly repaid him for that; Peter was still a little stunned and his lips tingled like he’d been punched in the mouth. Punched very softly. By the mouth of the girl he had a huge crush on. He ran a finger across his lips as he zipped his bag back up. Then, there was nothing to do but… stand? Lean against the wall? Was sitting totally out of the question, since the one logical spot he could sit was on the bed they had yet to fully address? What the hell―he gave it a try. Immediately, his bare foot was jumping against the floor. Crap, should he have left his socks on? Was the floor of a train compartment as ready to give him nefarious foot diseases as the college residence showers May had already started warning him about, almost an entire year early? He wedged his bare feet back into his sneakers and stood with his arms anxiously crossed. MJ didn’t take long.

“Counter proposal,” she suggested as she stepped into their room and set her things on a teeny ledge that Peter didn’t know the purpose of.

He would’ve asked what was being countered, but MJ had him pushed against the wall in a second, her mouth planted back on his. Now they both tasted like mint. She was seriously not helping with his efforts to not have a boner right now. The fact that he was utterly amateur in the issue of how to hold a girl in a passionate embrace, and the evidence that she didn’t have any more experience kissing than he did (she kept catching his lip with her teeth and he wasn’t sure either of them knew whether it was intentional), didn’t actually seem to matter that much. His hands ended up on her hips, which wanted to tilt naturally towards his, and the fervour of her kisses calmed to something more enjoyable and bite-free when she appeared to overcome the way she’d surprised herself by kissing him in the first place.

“No,” she said, breathless as she drew back―his mouth might’ve chased puppyishly after hers for a second. “No, we should probably talk. I was right the first time. Counter proposal withdrawn.”

“Uh, withdrawal accepted,” Peter replied. He was dazed, his heart was kicking against his ribs, and if MJ looked down, she would see that part of him was still in favour of proceeding in a way that didn’t involve speech.

She huffed out a breath, fluffed a hand exasperatedly through her hair, and started packing away her bathroom paraphernalia. Meanwhile, he stood against the wall with a hard-on and watched her carefully seal her wet facecloth into a Ziploc bag. His brain was horniness and confusion. Finally, crouched on the floor by her luggage, MJ twisted to look up at him.

“I let you tell Mr. Harrington that there were two beds in this room,” she recapped. It wasn’t quite a question, but Peter nodded just in case she wanted the confirmation.

“You can go tell him something different.”

“Nah, I don’t really want to.”

“I could leave and you could keep this room, or maybe you could share with Betty, or―”

“I said I don’t want to,” MJ repeated. She moved to sit on the bed.

“So… what do we do?”

Peter was very curious about what her solution might be, mostly because he wasn’t 100% clear on what the problem was. If neither of them was bothered by the absence of a second bed and both of them had avidly participated in that tragically curtailed make-out session… well. He felt there were certain courses of action that would seem reasonable. But he didn’t trust himself to have a solid grip of what was going on, not when he remained semi-hard in his pajama bottoms and stared at MJ’s mouth as frequently as into her eyes.

“We… would have to share?” This time it was definitely a question and Peter nodded more slowly to acknowledge that question, rather than to agree with it outright.

“If you want both of us to stay, then, yeah. I don’t really want to sleep on the floor and I can’t stay awake all night with the tournament tomorrow.”

“And how would you feel about sharing?” MJ’s eyes darted to his face and down to her lap where she pulled her t-shirt down her thighs. It looked like she was doing it more for something to do than out of any inclination towards modesty. Also, the eye-contact avoidance said she was a little insecure about what his answer might be.

“I would feel, I would feel really good about it,” Peter stuttered out. She met his eyes.

“I like you,” MJ blurted.

“Me too. You.”

He smiled and she patted the bed at her side with an awkward, sarcastic expression. He took her invitation and stepped forward with a lurch to sit next to her. His gaze trailed down her arm to witness her gripping the edge of the bed with both hands. Her shoulders hunched, then shrugged back down.

“We’d be in pretty deep shit with a lot of people if anyone knew this was happening right now,” she speculated.

Peter laughed.

“Definitely.” He cleared his throat. “And, uh, what exactly is happening?”

MJ looked at him. Slowly, she reached for his face, turned and angled it to her liking, then gradually leaned in and, very softly, kissed him for the third time.

“Oh, ok,” he said as she drew back. “So the talking didn’t mean the kissing wasn’t going to continue.”

“I was trying to be responsible first.”

“Right. Co-captains.”

“There are expectations for our conscientiousness. And I will drop you like a hot potato if you threaten anyone’s belief in my conscientiousness.”

“You will?”

MJ smiled in a familiar way.

“You’re messing with me,” Peter realized, also smiling and rocking back slightly to scan the ceiling.

“About everything but the hot part.”

He straightened up immediately, completely focused on her.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. That’s really going to be a problem,” she said thoughtfully. Peter frowned. “For when we lie down on this thing―” MJ swatted the bed. “―and see what happens if we keep kissing.”

“I’m sorry my attractiveness is such a drawback for you,” he joked.

“I’d be better at resisting temptation if temptation didn’t have ridiculously chiseled abs.”

He puffed out a laugh and presented her with a lopsided smile, struggling between feeling embarrassed and really fucking thankful that he appealed to her in such a shallow way. For self-congratulation, he gave himself two whole seconds of side-eyeing the peaks of her boobs through her t-shirt.

“Actually, I’m not that clueless about what would happen,” she confessed. “I think it’d be pretty impossible for me to lie beside you and be chill about it.”

“That’s fine with me,” Peter promised eagerly, “but we don’t have to lie down right away.”

He reached over and let his hand hover above her knee until MJ grasped it and brought it down to rest on her cool skin. It took the shortest glance to make him lean into her space and kiss… her cheek, chickening out a little after all the talk about the obvious proceedings from the second they were horizontal together. Peter wanted that―he definitely wanted that―but he also really liked sitting in this moment with her, knowing that she wanted that too. And that she would be alright with him kissing her, if that was another thing he wanted. He did. The hand he didn’t have on her knee lightly cupped her face as Peter skimmed his lips down to her mouth. There, that was better, he thought, as MJ sighed against his lips.

Slipping his hand from her cheek around to the back of her head, he secured his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth harder to his. She made a small sound that seemed to plunge straight down his throat and echo around in his stomach. Then, it plummeted even farther, stirring his groin. His hand tightened on her knee. Less tentatively than he would’ve expected (or had expected, in his fantasies of what kissing her would be like), MJ snuck her tongue into his mouth. At the feeling of their tongues gliding past and around each other, she became the one grabbing for him, hand low on the back of his neck. When she mirrored him by gripping his knee, Peter jumped, then smoothed his hand up her thigh as she twisted into him.

They were at an impasse for a second, or at least he was, fighting the urge to ease MJ onto her back and cover her body with his. No lying down; not yet. There was so much tension in their postures as they leaned into each other, gripping legs and necks and barely breaking the kiss long enough for a deeper inhalation. Even to Peter, it felt abrupt when he swung his legs up onto the bed. Though he had to swing them away from her, MJ understood―just like he’d expected―and climbed over to sit astride his thighs―just like he’d hoped. He was breathing stupidly hard as her eyes locked on his and she shuffled forward. His hands seized her hips, then her ass, and then he closed his eyes as they rolled back in his head because she was pressed right up against him and his fingers couldn’t trace the lines of any underwear through her cotton shorts. Something primal surged up from deep inside him and he narrowly managed to not start grinding into her.

“However this goes,” Peter panted, opening his eyes, “swear you’re not gonna murder me on this train. Or open our door to a murderer while I’m sleeping.”

“I swear. Strangely, this is better.” She smiled.

He didn’t know what was so strange about preferring feeling each other up over solving/committing a homicide. Then again, they did both kinda have a thing for violent crime.

“That’s reassuring,” he told her, hands hot on her butt. She shifted against him and he grunted.

“Sorry,” MJ said immediately. Peter choked out a laugh.

“That wasn’t a noise of pain.”

“Oh.”

Her smile returned―broader, slyer. She folded her arms around his shoulders and rocked her hips against his. When he gasped, MJ looked the most delighted he’d ever seen her. She kissed him and rolled her hips again, but this time, his hands on her ass kept her in place and he rolled his hips back, groaning as his erection rubbed against her through their pajamas. Somehow, she wriggled even closer, thighs clamped on either side of him and seemed to consciously and minutely reposition her hips. The next time they ground against each other, she went, “Unnh!” and he understood. His whole body flushed with heat.

Hastily, they started trying to take each other’s shirts off at the same time. MJ already had both hands up under the fabric and pressed to his chest by the time Peter had gotten a single hand past the drapey folds of her oversized choice. They were stuck again, neither able to proceed with the other’s hands on them.

“You want me to go first?” Peter asked.

“Better do mine first,” she said. “You’re going to have a tough time prying me away once your shirt’s off.”

He blushed at how matter-of-factly she’d said that.

“I have no idea why you think I’m going to do any better.”

“So I shouldn’t take mine off?” she checked.

“Definitely take it off.”

“You’re such a moron.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed absently, lifting the hem of MJ’s shirt as she wriggled her arms out of the sleeves. Once her hands were tucked away inside the big t-shirt, Peter tugged the whole thing straight off.

“Now you,” she said quickly, grabbing his shoulders so he couldn’t immediately tip forward and begin kissing all over her chest.

She couldn’t prevent him from staring though. He did that until MJ jerked the neck of his shirt up over his eyes and he was forced to help her divest him of it or else be blinded to anything that might follow. And he definitely wanted his sight, wanted his eyes wide open.

In the end, she didn’t let him stare that long; she got this overwhelmed look in her eyes and hugged herself to him, their chests flush. Peter imagined a kind of surface-level vibration, like what was holding them together was static cling and with every little brush, they were recharged. What to do with all that waiting energy? He put his hands back on her ass―roaming more now, curving to shape her hips and her backside―and guided her purposely against him. MJ’s thighs tensed around him as she took control of the movement until Peter was grasping without pushing or pulling. As her eyelids drifted down, he exhaled and listened to the wispy sounds of her moan-toned breaths and the clatter of the train around them, always in southward motion down the track. It was dark outside and the light in their sleeping compartment was low without an assist from the sun. Probably because, in a room this small with mysterious ledges and misleading luggage racks, they’d had a hard time figuring out where to put a lamp or a pot light that emitted a decent wattage. Whatever. This railroad mood lighting wasn’t the worst.

MJ’s fingers skated along his jaw for almost a full minute (any longer and he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from twitching away out of ticklishness) before they stilled with his face in her hands and she kissed him. Their mouths bumped and slipped, hungry and gentle. There was a note of distraction, Peter thought, thanks to their minds skipping ahead to the next part, making the kiss the bridge rather than the destination. Pressing his lips to hers was no longer the ultimate joy he could hope for. Suddenly, there could be more.

Her hands caressed down his neck, a slight quaver in her fingers, and dragged through his collarbones like she was scooping them out. She could’ve been. She could’ve run a finger along the length and blown after it, sending up blustery sawdust. Peter was no longer 100% certain that he’d had a clavicle before MJ had touched him. Moving his hands up to her waist because it felt like a more respectful place to let them rest on her and because bare skin beneath his fingertips, he kept up his end of their abstracted kissing as she explored across to his shoulders. His cock throbbed against her, impatient with her leisurely hands and lazy hips, only shallowly swaying now. When she broke the kiss with a hot pant against his lips, it was to look in his eyes while she discovered his chest, then pressed against it. He laid back like she wanted. His hands sailed down her thighs and squeezed right above her knees. Bizarrely, that was the action that woke him up to what was happening. There was no way to look up at MJ―mostly naked, straddling his lap, doing her best to keep her hair out of her face as she looked straight back down at him―except with more than a little bit of awe. He swallowed thickly.

She rocked a few times without breaking their stare, then said, “Should we get under the sheet?”

“Ok.”

It was less fumbling than it could have been, mostly because they moved so quickly. Peter was practically shaking with adrenaline after forcing himself to be still as MJ mapped him with her hands. Suddenly separate and next to one another, suddenly between two sheets like the flap of an envelope was about to be licked and sealed down over them. Send us anywhere, Peter thought. The room looked bigger like this, lying on his side with his back to the wall, but he only glanced. MJ swept across the bed like a shooting star in the sky for a kiss and they rapidly shed their bottoms. Her toes touched his, right after they’d gotten fully nude, and his abdomen clenched up, ready to support a thrust or to defend him from whatever was making him flinch like that. Well, screw that.

They kept kissing, making contact only up to their ankles, until Peter laid a cautious hand on her stomach.

“You want to keep going, right?” MJ asked, pulling back for a second. She’d tucked her arm beneath his neck and was systematically scratching her nails across every bit of his scalp, which was both comforting and erotic.

“For sure, yes, if you still do,” he babbled. He could feel her pulse hopping under his hand. He wanted to follow it down so bad.

“Alright then,” she said with a brisk nod, and grabbed his wrist to make his fingers stumble south.

Peter’s mouth fell open and part of him wanted to snatch his hand back because her expression was petrified. But then, it might’ve been that way because she was worried that he didn’t want to touch her like this, in which case removing his hand would make her feel way, way worse. It would’ve been good for him to ask for verbal confirmation here, but the part of his brain that put words together and held their hands until they’d successfully departed his mouth was broken right now. Because MJ had put his hand between the warmth of her thighs, allowing his fingers to graze and his palm to cover the intimate texture of hair. He could feel the questioning look on his face and, apparently in response to it, she piloted his hand a little lower, into the realm of the arousal she must’ve worked up grinding against him. His other hand clenched into a fist as his drive to be inside her swelled like his restless erection.

It was nerve-wracking, so much pressure not to touch her too lightly or too rough―and besides that, to make it somehow feel good for her. That he wanted very badly. Peter was out of his depth. That was when, as usual, MJ swooped in to lend him a literal hand without fuss. Her thighs parted further for him and, with her fingers directing his, he felt the soft creases and curves start to make sense. Gradually, he moved faster, dipped deeper, and nearly shouted victoriously when he accidentally flicked something that, by MJ’s sharp breath and the buck of her hips, was her clit. He ran his fingers across her entrance to wet them and flicked again, slowing to a tap, then a knead when she responded well (death grip on his wrist). Working up the nerve to probe his middle finger gently inside her came with a wealth of rewards: hitched breathing, her hand sliding precariously far down his abs, and a tight heat that his dick was longing for with more urgency than ever now that he knew precisely what it felt like.

Lying so that both his hands were down where he needed them to be wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but the way MJ gasped and then quietly moaned his name when he had the dexterity of extra fingers to offer her made it worthwhile. He could now continue fingering her from the inside while also pressing fingertips to her clit. Rewetting them after every few swipes made her gasp and writhe against his hands all over again. When she abruptly said, “Faster,” the finger inside her froze and he worked her clit double then triple time as she folded into him, forehead on his chest, and unceremoniously grasped his dick.

“You can’t do that right now,” he laughed, lightheaded. MJ’s fingers, fully around his erect penis. Avengers fucking assemble because this was not a drill.

At his plea, her hand darted to his hip instead, gripping even more firmly as, incredibly, Peter Parker (aka Spider-Man on a Train, aka Friendly Neighbourhood Third Baseman) brought her to orgasm. Her hips jerked and she made muffled hiccupping noises from where he couldn’t see her face and he thought to introduce a second finger to give her something to, holy shit, ride? He guessed? This was insane. Had the feeling of freedom from a school trip made this happen? Did people just get extra horny on trains? He was so glad the train company had fucked up Mr. Harrington’s ticket reservation to stick Peter and MJ in a single room for a night.

“We should,” she began, lifting her head with a blush of warmth and maybe self-consciousness after she’d sagged into herself and he’d removed his hands uncertainly, “discuss logistics.”

“Oh,” Peter said, surprised. “Oh, I guess, yeah. Logistics. Right.”

“What I mean is―”

He cut MJ off with a short kiss of determined pressure. Going straight into talking about logistics actually didn’t feel right, not when he’d just had her in his hands like that. This shouldn’t feel like business; it was affection. He really cared about her. Seeing and feeling and hearing what Peter had just seen, felt, and heard was monumental. Would she be his girlfriend after this? Should he ask her right now?

“Go ahead,” he urged with a smile, foregoing mention of the other stuff for the moment. It wasn’t business. They didn’t require a pause to agree on the parameters.

Plus, MJ was flustered now, which was amazing and adorable.

“I…” She trailed off when he found her hand under the sheet and held it. With a resolute tilt of her head, she took another run at her sentence, “I did not happen to pack condoms. Did you? Also, I’m not on birth control. I didn’t really know this was, um, going to happen.”

Peter kissed her again, for longer, at the vulnerable expression on her face.

“Me neither,” he promised. “Definitely a surprise.”

“So, you are equally ill-equipped?”

Instantly, he frowned.

“Technically, but it’s so harsh to say it like that! I’m not sure you would’ve been super thrilled if I had had condoms.”

“I would’ve been suspicious,” MJ confirmed, looking suspicious of him even as she spoke the words.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Do you think they sell them on the train?” Apparently, they were switching gears.

“I don’t know. Do you really want to be wandering around trying to buy condoms and have Mr. Harrington catch you though?”

“Hmm. Good point. So, what are our options?”

He was cooling down after the frenzy of getting her off and reflexively shifted towards her. The move made them both instinctually awkward, unsure where to touch and hyper-aware that their faces had never been this close before tonight. They were just existing with their faces close now, like this was their normal. Peter kept tight hold of her hand and basically willed himself to wade forward into talking this out.

“We could just not do anything else,” he suggested first, internally pleading with her not to go that route.

“Obviously, we can stop if you want to, but I’m kind of dying to see what you look like when you, you know.”

Peter was speechless for a moment.

“Uh, well, I mean…” He scratched the back of his head. “I could pull out?”

“And just… on the sheet?” She asked, avoiding his eyes (he assumed―he was kinda avoiding hers too).

“Yeah, then I’ll take it off and rinse it in the bathroom, we sleep on the top sheet and get that blanket―” He pointed to where one was tucked against the wall, ready for use. “―to put over us.”

MJ snorted a laugh.

“What is it?” he asked uneasily.

“I totally forgot we’re actually going to sleep together after this. You’re not missing the joke. That shouldn’t be funny, it just is for some reason.”

He grinned.

“Yeah, it kind of is.”

“You really bold-faced lied to Mr. Harrington, huh? The team should admire you. What a rebel leader you are. Don’t―” she added, raising a finger to his lips as he started to reply. “―say anything about Star Wars. I will definitely never have sex with you on a train again if you do.”

Peter shook his head.

“I’m not risking that.”

For a quiet minute, they adjusted their bodies to bring them even closer. He liked her eyelashes and how her mouth sloped naturally down at the corners; she seemed to be tracing the path of freckles across his cheek and over his nose.

“Do any of the people in that murder book have sex on the train?”

“Who cares?” MJ said. “They’re not real. We are.”

Their fingers slipped, only loosely entwined now, as their concentration returned to yielding kisses, lips moulding effortlessly together. Peter’s free hand stole up the back of her neck and when he shifted his weight subtly into hers, not even completely aware that he was asking, she answered, tipping onto her back.

“I’ll pull out,” he reaffirmed as her thighs were parting for his hips and he was positioning himself at her entrance by hand.

“I trust you, Peter,” she said in a nonchalant tone.

“I trust you.”

“It’s not a competition,” MJ complained and he let her have the last word because she’d probably said it out of the same nerves he was feeling as he eased the head of his dick inside her.

They both shifted slightly and settled. She laughed when he swore out of sheer bliss, pitching forward a little and drawing back, then he laughed at the sound of her laughing. Somehow, in all that, he ended up completely inside her and she pressed her hands to his back like maybe she really needed him and didn’t want him to go anywhere, even after the sex and the happenstance of a shared room. That would be really, really great.

The sex wasn’t perfect: for all MJ’s evident enjoyment, Peter didn’t have the inherent, untested talent or beginner’s luck to see her climax again and, of the two times she tried to kiss him while he was thrusting, she bonked their heads together on the first and brutally clicked their teeth on the second. They laughed some more. They were a mess. They were, possibly, each other’s.

He finished on the sheet like he’d promised and it felt wrong and gross enough that he’d be buying condoms before they did this again, but it also felt sort of hot the way MJ watched him pump doggedly through the circle of his own fingers until he groaned her name. The follow-up logistics were another mixed bag of sexy and unsexy. Peter threw his pajamas back on, bundled the sheet to his chest with the wet part deep in the center, and bolted to the bathroom to give it a hasty dip in the sink. But he returned to the sight of MJ remaking their bed in her PJs, complete with her sleepy smile. He figured out the light switch and crawled in beside her. Something unexpectedly tender in his chest squeezed when he learned that this tall, coolly critical girl took obvious comfort in being the little spoon. Her body went soft with his arm around her; he fell asleep with his nose and mouth resting against the back of her neck.

The alarm MJ had set on her phone got them up half an hour before they had to meet their team and teachers the next morning. First, Peter let his arm go slack so she could roll over to face him without leaving his embrace.

“Hey,” she said with her eyes barely open.

“Will you be my girlfriend now?”

He could only guess that she’d have given him a look that more clearly called him an idiot if they hadn’t just woken up.

“Yeah, ok.” was the response MJ went with instead.

Peter shook his head with bleary exasperation at how lukewarm her words were, but then she snuck her hand into his pajama pants and really damn quickly worked out how to give him a handjob. Long story short, they desecrated another sheet and were still on time for breakfast (only because they ran).

After everyone had finished eating and Mr. Harrington had delivered a heartfelt-yet-underwhelming pep talk for the day, they were sent back to their rooms to pack up their stuff. They’d be arriving in New Orleans within the hour.

“Are you disappointed there weren’t any crimes last night?” Peter asked with a smile as they repacked their luggage side by side.

“Well, I could say I stole your virginity,” she pointed out, nearly making him catch his hand in the zipper as he closed his bag. MJ gave him a sly sideways glance. “But virginity is a construct. And you were more than willing to give it up.”

She mercifully interrupted his ensuing stuttering with a kiss that he hoped would become a habit. (The kissing, not the stuttering.) His head was hazy with the idea as he jerked the clasp of their door and slid it open for the last time. To find Flash standing in the hall.

“’Sup, Penis, or should I call you ‘Big Easy’ after you two were somehow allowed to share a room?”

Peter stiffened, but he was hellbent on not giving anything away. He rolled his eyes and assumed MJ did the same as they pushed past Flash with their bags and opened the door to the vestibule. He sincerely, stupidly believed that dickhead was following them and that they were in the clear. But as he went to close the door behind them, he noticed Flash hadn’t followed. At Peter’s alarm, MJ joined him in glancing back into the car they’d just left. Flash had his hands braced on the doorframe of their compartment, leaning into the room.

“Wait a second! That other thing’s not a bed!”

The door closed. They stared at each other.

“Oh man, Flash is gonna tease the crap out of us. Do we run?” he asked.

“That’s a dumb plan.” She paused. “And I don’t have another one.”

Their oblivious classmates were emerging from their rooms and Peter and MJ jostled them thoroughly as they booked it down the corridor towards the front of the train.

#my writing #spideychelleweek2k20 #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

35 notes · View notes

stusbunker · 4 years

Text

What Lingers Within: Five

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Written for @thisismysecrethappyplace

Amazing help & beta’ing from @itmighthavebeenintentional

Lovely aesthetic from @thoughtslikeaminefield

Word Count: 1972

A/N:There are some quick flashbacks and talk of rotting bodies, but nothing out of the normal of the show for warnings. Angst. Thanks for reading! xoxo Stu

Series Masterlist

^*^*^*^*^

In a strictly “looking for a silver lining type way,” Sam was impressed with how Dean held in the road rage as they reached the city limits. He felt it too, the worry, the restlessness, the need to do something, anything. Dean drove, Sam thought; it was all they could do in the moment, however unsubstantial. Luckily, the natural progression of intense emotion defused overtime leaving logic and hunters’ patience on their side.

They spotted Michelle in her parked truck, right where she’d told them to meet her. Dean had to circle back twice before they found a spot big enough for the impala. They made do with only their handguns hidden on their backs, clocking their bustling surroundings on the way to the old pick up. Michelle dodged traffic and met them on the sidewalk, her shock dulled with exhaustion. Sam tried his best to reassure her before walking her back to wait in their car.

Ten yards before Sam reached his brother, Dean’s phone rang.

^*^*^

The first week had been a blur, being introduced to everyone repeatedly and suffering through hours of online training in your tiny bland cubicle. Your new job, essentially, was double checking other people’s work. “Quality Assurance Specialist’’ had been thrown around, but your title didn’t matter; it was entry level work.

You went home each day to your airy, quiet apartment alone. Hours spent reminding yourself that you had made the right choice moving and starting over. But there were moments when it felt like you were stuck, by moving you had acted on a hidden impulse to search for something. Something missing from your life.

Your nights were spent scrolling decorating boards cuddled on the couch in an old flannel that had started to wear in patches from burying your face in the soft fabric, searching for a scent that had long been washed away.

Mornings were easier, especially with a coffee shop just around the corner. Slowly you had built a routine, growing more comfortable with your surroundings and your coworkers.

Then came the afternoon Katelyn called you into your office, the day this all began when somehow you had put a chopping block over your own head and inadvertently, Chase’s.

You had been doing your job, she couldn’t fire you over the discrepancies you had bubbled up. But, whatever scheme she had been working was deemed more important than two people’s lives. The memory burned into the back of your mind as you listened to the call ring over the line.

“Agent Berkman.”

“Dean?” You croaked, his voice broke through your fighting mentality, bringing an instant vulnerability.

“Thank God! Where are you?”

“I don’t know! Katelyn got out on bail—the cops know you guys aren’t FBI!” Your mind jumped back, warning Dean before you could focus. His fake business card crumpled in your clenched fist.

“Is she there now? Are you someplace safe?” Dean coached.

“Um, I think I’m in a basement, it’s all cement and smells. This is Katelyn’s phone, I had to—,” you started to sputter.

“Hey! Listen to me! Is there a door? Can you get out?” Dean pressed.

You exhaled slowly. “I think so? I don’t know who dragged me here. I didn’t see them clearly before they knocked me out. I got fucking chlorofomed! I didn’t think people really did that.”

Dean grumbled, and you realized he must have been catching Sam up.

“Well, generally they don’t. I’m guessin’ Katelyn and her partner aren’t exactly experienced kidnappers.”

“That’s oddly reassuring.”

“You movin’ yet?”

“Oh, right. Don’t hang up.” Drawn out of your daze, your eyes focused onto corroded metal, your only exit.

“Honey, I wouldn’t dare,” Dean huffed out a chuckle. It made your cheeks burn as you wiped away the tears. You took another deep breath for courage and cranked open the heavy, old door.

*^*^*^

Her voice rang through the pre-dawn air, she was already giggling his name as he nuzzled against the back of her neck.

Dean was already hard, but the way her laughter broke off had him aching. Noises in any other context would be annoying were melodic, craved, sought out there. She was soft against his chest as he wedged a knee between her thighs. He rocked into the inviting cushion of her ass as they rolled, sheets twisting into an inescapable cocoon.

He took his time, sprinkling kisses over every inch of her back as they settled into place. With nowhere to go and no one that needed them, they indulged in each other. It had been a hard fought couple of months finding a new normal without Sam, but they’d done it together. This was just the dollop of whipped cream on their slice of pie. A perfectly lazy morning lay, something they’d done dozens of times before and Dean couldn’t imagine them ever stopping.

She whined with exhaustion and moaned with pleasure, a soundtrack he never knew he needed. He fell back asleep sometime after nine, and she lingered beneath him, playing with the hair at the scruff of his neck as he drooled in the crease below her bare breasts. Sticky and sloppy and stupidly content.

They went for brunch or ate in or any number of other silly weekend things regular couples did. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was the feelings never left Dean’s memories. They were folded in among the layers of her scent and the flash of her smile, the warmth of her voice and the shape of her body against his. Things time had faded but could never fully erase.

^*^*^

Dean and Sam beelined for the alleyway, retracing her steps until they ran into the trail they had followed to the vampire den less than a week prior. Dean switched his phone to his other hand as he held open the hatch for Sam to ease into the service tunnel. He prayed he wouldn’t lose service as he continued to talk her out of one room and into the labyrinth.

“Alright, are you being followed? Check again. Don’t stop watching your back, you hear me?” Dean huffed, his shoulder pinching his phone against his ear as he climbed down after Sam, leaving civilization behind.

“I am!” She was whispering all the sudden, which only made him more worried.

“Do you see anything? Any emergency lights or signs, pipes maybe?” Dean offered, crouching as he kept up with Sam’s hurried pace.

“Oh god,” she broke off.

“What is it?” Dean barked.

“I figured out what the smell is,” she coughed.

“Let me guess, bodies?” Dean jutted his chin to Sam.

“Who says that as your first guess?” She muttered the rhetorical question. “Wait, did you do this?”

“Maybe. Listen, whoever dragged you down there knew the vamps had been cleared out. Keep sharp.” Dean pushed against Sam’s back, speeding up as much as they could in the cramped space.

“I’m not going in there, I just spotted them through the hole in the wall.” She was adamant; Dean knew exactly the face she was making with that tone in her voice, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Alright, we’ll be there as soon as we can. Just, uh, keep talking,” Dean prompted.

“So, uh, is it weird that I’m hoping to see Michaelangelo or Donatello down here? Because I am getting some weird nostalgia vibes right now,” she wondered aloud, earning a solid guffaw from Dean, which got him a questioning grimace from Sam.

“If you see a man-sized rat, I wouldn’t stop and ask for any Kung Fu tips,” Dean mock warned.

“Master Splinter is more than a mere rat, dude,” she tisked.

“You see the new ones?” Dean kept her talking.

“With pretty boy Casey Jones? Or the cartoons?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Look, they could have been worse—,” Dean was cut off.

“Shit! Roy’s calling! What the fuck do I do?” She started to panic.

“It’s call waiting, just let it ring through, you’re fine. It’s going to be okay,” Dean tried to soothe her with only bullshit and a sliver of hope.

“What if it was him that drugged me, Dean? What if he’s looking for Katelyn and comes looking for me?” She continued to spiral and Dean felt like they were moving backwards. It hadn’t taken them this long to find the vamps the first time, had it?

Just when he was going to butt in and calm her down, the line went dead.

^*^*^

If Katelyn’s phone had grown hands and punched you in the face, you would have been less surprised; Roy’s face, in an altogether uncomfortable smirk, stared back at you from the blue tinged call screen. Somehow he had managed to interrupt your call to Dean.

There was no hiding that you weren’t Katelyn. You had no reason to answer her phone before, why would you now?

Too bad logic didn’t ease your worry.

You pushed End Call and shoved the phone in your back pocket. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you ducked into the hole with the decapitated vampires and hugged your knees. Any moment you could be discovered. You kept yourself quiet by reminding yourself that there was hope that Dean or Sam would find you before Roy could.

You buried your face in the grime and sweat on your clothes, trying to block out the stench of decay. You felt eight-years-old again, hiding in your grandmother’s closet waiting for the older cousins to find you. You remembered they had given up and started playing baseball without you. No one had come to find you until it was time to leave. Your dad said you had won Hide & Seek, but you knew what he wasn’t saying: you had been forgotten because you were unnecessary. A bother.

It wasn’t the last time you had been left behind.

Just when you decided to try and continue escaping, heavy footfalls echoed closer. You trembled in place, face hidden in your forearms while your eyes slammed closed in fear and childlike instinct.

“Where is she?!” Dean’s voice broke through the eerie quiet. “She said she was out here.”

“Here! I’m, I– I didn’t know where to go?” You crawled onto your knees and then climbed out through the gap in the wall.

You fell into Sam’s side, one pair of warm hands caught your waist and another righted your shoulders. Before your eyes could readjust to the light, you found yourself drowning in freckles and lashes.

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” Dean searched your cheeks and neck, wrists and feet for any sign of injury. His touch was hurried, but careful, like you could crumble at any moment.

“I’m fine, just a little woozy.” You mumbled, suddenly self-conscious of being the center of attention. “We really need to get going.”

“Did you see Roy?” Sam asked, gun out and eyes darting around.

“No, but he’s bound to track Katelyn’s phone eventually.” You held up the phone. Hastily, you wiped it off with your shirt best you could before dropping it to the mildewed floor and crushing it beneath your shoe.

“Why’d you do that? Why not just leave it for a false trail?” Sam cocked his head.

You shrugged. “I was hoping it would delay the inevitable. Katelyn’s dead. Or at least I think she is. I killed her.”

“You what?!” Dean and Sam gaped in unison.

“Look, can we keep moving? I need you guys, uh, to hold off on the questions, because I am not really sure how I feel about it yet.” You hoped your desperation was coming off as endearing, because you still needed their help. Sam was obviously befuddled, but Dean’s expression looked more like pride.

You pressed your luck. “Be my getaway driver?”

“I’m all yours,” Dean smirked and clicked his tongue, ushering you to follow Sam’s lead.

^*^*^

Series tags: @tiggytaylor @vicmc624 @kalesrebellion

General SPN tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja

^*^*^

Read On: Chapter Six

#what lingers within #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean angst #amnesia fic

54 notes · View notes

spider-manholland · 5 years

Text

Don’t Break Me Again | Peter Parker

part four of the mending hearts mini-series

Pairing(s): Ex!Peter Parker x Female Reader, Peter Parker x Michelle Jones, Brad Davis x Female Reader

Warning(s): angst like always, major fluff (i know right?! finally!), swearing, implications and mentions of sex, Far From Home spoilers

Summary: Sometimes it takes losing the person you once loved to make you realize how much they still mean to you.

Requested by @decaffeinated-turtle

Masterlist

In the lobby of the old rundown hotel stood Peter, Ned, Michelle, Betty, Flash, and Brad, all watching the news on the slightly cracked television as it discussed the events of what happened at the market area early today. “That guy that flew in was really cool,” Brad stated, smiling widely as Betty just shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, he kinda looks like Iron Man sorta.”

Peter stepped away from his friends as they began to debate—more like argue who was the more cooler one. He walked over to the staircase where MJ was currently at, sitting on one of the steps. “Hey,” Peter spoke softly, enough to where only she could hear him. “You okay?” He sat down beside her, resting his arms on his knees as he turned to face her.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” MJ nodded, smiling. “Just a little shook from what happened today. What about you? You just disappeared.”

“O-Oh,” Peter froze, nibbling on his bottom lip nervously. “Yeah, I got out of there as fast as I could, ya know? It was really dangerous to stay there.”

“Sure.” MJ’s voice trailed off, squinting at Peter curiously before returning her attention back to her friends who were now calmed down from their loud debate. “Whatever you say, Peter.”

“Hey, do you guys know where Y/N is?” Brad suddenly asked, realizing that they were missing their friend. “She’s in our room.” Betty answered, pointing her finger up towards the floor above them. “She said she wasn’t feeling well so she decided to just rest.”

“I’ll go check on her.” He said while he made his way towards the stairs, stopping when Peter stood in front of him, blocking his path. “No, that’s all right.” Peter shook his head, “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure, Parker?” Brad asked, smirking teasingly. “I thought you and Y/N weren’t on speaking terms after everything that’s happened-”

“I got it.” Peter cut him off, glaring at the slightly taller boy before turning around and walking up the staircase, leaving his friends back downstairs. When Peter got to you and Betty’s shared room he felt himself start to get nervous and he didn’t know why. You guys haven’t talked since what happened at the market earlier today, seeing as that after he saved you, you both decided to go find the rest of your class and see if they were okay.

Peter raised his fist and banged it gently against the door, immediately hearing your soft voice say, “Come in.” Peter opened the door, his eyes landing on you laying in your own bed, his cheeks flushing at the sight of you wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts. “Hey,” Peter greeted, closing the door behind him. “Betty told us you weren’t feeling well. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You reassured him, smiling softly while your bed’s sheets covered your slightly exposed body. “Just a little bruised up that’s all.”

“Let me see.” Peter offered, walking over and sitting on the edge of your bed. “Knowing you, you say its not bad but it’s the total opposite.” He teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him. With some hesitation at first, you agreed with him. You sat up from your current position on your bed, wincing slightly which Peter instantly noticed, worry clear on his face.

When you lifted up your shirt, Peter’s eyes squinted with confusion when seeing a large bandage taped to the side of your stomach. Peter glanced up at you, asking your permission with his eyes, which you just nodded. He then slowly and carefully took your bandage off, his eyes widening at the large gash. “That’s not little-” his voice filled with concern, “-or a bruise.”

“It’s not that bad, Peter. I’m fine.” You tried to reassure him but he just shook his head, standing up from your bed. “No you aren’t. You already bled through your bandage and you’re still bleeding.”

“Just stay here, I brought a first aid kit with me just in case something like this would happen—with me, of course.” Peter quickly corrected before leaving your hotel room. After waiting for a few minutes, Peter came back inside, locking your door just for precautions and sat back down on your bed. “I’m going to have to stitch it up.” He said, opening up his first aid kit and taking out a small needle and a roll of thread.

“What?” You stared at him with wide-eyes. “Oh, hell no!” You laughed hysterically while shaking your head. “I’m not letting you stitch me up. Without any anesthetic it’s going to hurt so much! I’ll die from the pain!” You rambled, causing Peter to laugh at your reaction. “You hear me, Parker? I’ll die.” You frowned. Peter couldn’t help but find your pouting face adorable.

“Don’t worry, I have some anesthestic medicine for the pain.” Peter said, calming you down slightly. “You do?” You asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, grabbing the empty syringe inside the first aid kit and filled it with the liquid anesthetic. “Considering how many times you had to stitch me up, I asked May to get me the hardcore first aid kits, the ones that come with them.”

“Oh,” you nodded, hissing loudly when you felt him push the needle unexpectedly into your gash, one of your hands gripping your sheets and the other suddenly grabbing onto his thigh, surprising the both of you. “Sorry,” you immediately pulled your hand back, blush creeping on your face as well as his.

“It’s okay,” he smiled softly, beginning to stitch up your wound. Silence then filled your room, causing you both to start to feel uncomfortable, the guilt of you and Peter’s last conversation coming back to your mind.

“I’m sorry, Peter.” You spoke up suddenly, “For snapping at you back at the market. You didn’t deserve that and I’m really sorry-”

“Hey,” Peter cut you off, pausing his stitching so that he could stare at you in your eyes. “I already forgave you. It’s alright.” He smiled reassuringly but you just shook your head, sighing. “But it’s not alright. You were just trying to be nice and I was being a complete bitch to you. I should’ve thanked you for buying me that necklace, instead I just rejected it, even though I really wanted it. My emotions just got the best of me and I was wrong to do that to you.”

“I wasn’t in the right, Y/N.” Peter added, “You were right, I shouldn’t have bought it. We aren’t together anymore.”

“But, we’re f-friends right?” He then asked, his voice slightly cracking and his eyes softening. You paused, feeling your heart pick up speed out of nervousness, and you knew Peter could hear it too which just fueled your emotions. “Of course.”

You both shared heartfelt smiles before Peter continued to stitch up the rest of your wound. And while he was doing that, he couldn’t help but suddenly chuckle out loud, causing you to stare at him confusingly. “What?” You asked, smiling amusingly as he just shook his head, releasing another small chuckle.

“I just remember a certain someone telling me that I’d never have to help them with these type of problems.” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows and eyeing at your wound. “Oh, shut up.” You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes.

“I hate seeing you like this, ya know?” You reminded Peter as you slid your secret stash of medical supplies under your bed and threw away the bloody gauze into your empty trash can. “Really? I thought you’d like to see me like this?” He asked, smirking when you turned back to face him. Peter was laying on your bed in nothing but his boxers, his suit discarded onto your floor. “That’s not what I meant, Peter.” You replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Come lay with me.” Peter patted the empty spot next to him on your bed. You wanted to be mad at him for coming to your apartment at three in the morning, all bloody and injured but you couldn't. You walked over and climbed into your bed next to him, immediately feeling his muscular arms wrap around your body and pull you close to him, letting you rest your head against his strong but bruised chest. “Thanks for patching me up, sweetheart.” You felt Peter press a kiss on top of your head, “And I promise if you ever get hurt—which I hope is never, I’ll take care of you like how you take care of me.”

“Oh please, Parker.” You scoffed, gently patting his chest. “You’re never gonna have to patch me up because I’m careful, unlike some people.” You teased, leaning up and pressing kisses along his jawline, smirking at the feeling of his body tensing up. “Alright, fine.” Peter shrugged, “But if it does happen, I get to tell you ‘I told you so’. Deal?” You shook your head at him, giggling at his childish deal. “Whatever you say, Parker.” He smiled before pressing your lips against his, letting your hands run along his strong chest.

“O-Oh, I love you.” He moaned suddenly against your lips, causing you to immediately pull away and stare at him with wide-eyes.

“You what?” You froze, feeling your heart beat uncontrollably at his words. You and Peter have been dating for little over five months now and this was the first time either of you said “I love you” to each other. “I love you.” Peter repeated more clearly. “Do you love me?”

“Yes.” You finally answered after some hesitation. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Peter because you did of course. It was just that you were nervous because this was your first relationship ever, same as him.

Peter could feel his heart burst into millions of butterflies at your answer, immediately crashing his lips against yours, letting his thumbs rub your exposed skin between your oversized t-shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts. You didn’t hesitate this time as you kissed back, your hands sliding up his toned chest until you reached his face, cupping his cheeks as your lips molded together with his.

The kiss became more aggressive, more passionate as one of Peter’s hand went down to your thighs and gripped onto them tightly, pulling and pressing your half exposed body against his nearly naked one. “Peter...” you moaned softly as your hands slid down and gripped his biceps. He pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath. You both stared at each other intensely, letting each other’s hands slowly caress one another. Peter shifted himself to where he was hovering over you, his hands resting on your hips as yours slowly explored the muscles in his back.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, his lips centimeters from yours. It was like a sudden burst of confidence filled your veins because instead of answering his question, you wrapped your fingers around the hem of his boxers, tugging them down slightly, smirking at his wide-eyed and flushed expression.

Let’s just say you were happy that your parents decided to take the night-shift at the hospital that night. And you were definitely going to get a noise complaint from your neighbors.

“And, done.” Peter said, cutting the remaining thread and shoving all of his medical supplies back into his first aid kit. “You see? That didn’t hurt at all.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You scoffed, cracking a smile as you glanced down at your now stitched wound, finding it quite impressive that Peter could do something like this really well since you’ve been the only one to patch him up after his patrols. “Oh and, Y/N?” Peter spoke, causing you to raise your head up and face him. “I told you so.”

“Oh, shut up.” You giggled, pulling your shirt back down, accidentally revealing couple love bites that Brad left on your collarbone, which was immediately noticed by Peter. Peter couldn't help but feel his blood boil at the image of you two together.

“So,” he spoke up, staring awkwardly down at his hands that rested on his lap. “You and Brad? When did that all happen?” You felt your heart suddenly stop at his question, you knew it was only a matter of time it was gonna be asked, he did see you two walk out of the airplane’s bathroom together. “When did what happen?”

“You two being together?” He asked, repeating his question but more clearly this time. “There’s nothing going on between me and him.” You answered honestly. There really wasn't anything on between you two, and you both knew that it was only a one time thing. “Really? So you just fucked and that’s all?” He questioned, his tone coming out more harsh than intended but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know why he was so upset over it. You guys weren't dating anymore and he really likes MJ. But the image of you and Brad together just made him furious for some reason.

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered, nodding your head. “What’s wrong with that?” You felt yourself frown when Peter just shook his head, laughing sarcastically. “Because you told me that you completely despised meaningless sex, that it has to feel like you’re making love instead of just a quick fuck. That’s why whenever we did it, it was always on a special occasion or when it just felt right. But here you are, fucking Brad Davis in airplane bathrooms. God, its like I don't even know you anymore.”

“Well the Peter I knew wouldn't have hurt me like you have.” You fired back at him, glaring at him as tears began to swell up in your eyes. You couldn't believe he was angry at you for something like this. You weren't his anymore and its not like you were the one that ended your relationship, he did. “So I guess we don't really know each other.”

“I guess we don't.” Peter replied, tears also building up in his eyes but he quickly blinked them away before you could notice. “I think you should just leave.” You whispered softly, careful not to show him your trembling lips, a sign where you knew you were close to breaking down. You watched as Peter then angrily stood up from your bed, not caring about his first aid kit as he stormed towards your door without it and leaving your room, not even sharing one last glance.

And once your door slammed shut, that’s when the tears began to fall.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Let me know if you want to be added to this series taglist or my permanent tablets!

- Permanent Taglist -

@laic2299 // @starsholland // @untoldstoriescomingtrough // @squid-kidd8 // @harringtonwife // @maybemona // @valentinevirgo // @disgustangg // @peterparkers-waffles // @xxtomxo // @wonders-of-the-multiverse

- Series Taglist -

@stuckonpeterparker // @cherry3bombshell // @slytherpuffyy // @skarsgard-bill-sstuff // @the-nargles-made-me-do-it // @liljennyx3 // @h00drhatwaifu // @fakindob // @charli-xy // @imagine-lovebug // @greene-house // @sweetdarlingholland // @t-holland2080 // @baby-unidorn // @unsolvedhearts // @fizaalam98 // @lunatic--charm // @lbuck121 // @its-the-unknownspidey // @ravngers // @tomshufflepuff // @hypotheticallyhumanxx // @mizzvanjie // @jessiyoshi // @clairestarkparker // @yoonmiint // @tom-hollands-blog // @awokenfandoms // @goldenpeaxh // @geeksareunique // @promiscuous-banana // @ppkrtingle // @spideyyeet // @parkeret // @cleoprker // @pluckypete // @simplyhemmings // @andreuskystuff // @trumpettay // @alooga262 // @anini71 // @justeveeeee // @xxxxdelenaxxxx // @spideyyypeter // @melaerica // @tony-stark-mcu

622 notes · View notes

you-guys--are-losers · 4 years

Note

HI! For your kissing prompt list can you please do number 37 or 38 for Peter Parker x Michelle Jones. Thank you! ❤❤

//You got it! Thanks for the prompt! ;) We’re gonna start this morning off with some fluff. XD

37: Awkward teenage crush kiss

Lots to Learn

Summary: In the wake of a huge disappointment, Peter and MJ learn a few things about what it means to be there for each other.

Characters: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Wordcount: 2,303

Warnings: Fluff, Disappointment, Cult References (As Always)

It’s been a good day for Peter since the beginning, even though it’s a hard one for her.

Peter gets the text at 7:30 in the morning. He’s a morning person; even on a weekend, there’s no way he ever makes it past seven before he is awoken by his body. This is something MJ knows, and so his first instinct when he hears her text tone is to grin to himself. The second thought, which follows immediately after, is concern.

She almost always stays up until 3 AM writing on the weekends… Why would she be texting him this early? As Peter fumbles for his phone where it lies on his cluttered desk, another text from MJ comes in. As soon as he sees the messages, his heart sinks.

Hey. I didn’t get in. I’m fine.

Then, two minutes later:

I’m not. Come over

He was there in ten minutes.

At his insistence, the day since then has been a blur of MJ’s favorite things. Doing each other’s nails in dark colors while they watch Don’t Fuck With Cats in the dark of her room, something that they’ve been doing more and more since they returned from Europe. At first, MJ is mostly quiet, but by the time they’re half an hour in and Peter has finally finished painting her nails dark purple, there is the ghost of a smile on her face as she examines the bumpy polish.

After that, it’s people-watching on a park bench with middle-eastern street food, placing bets on who is most likely to be a serial killer and making up outlandish backstories for the most normal-looking people. Then, Peter convinces May to let him take the car out so that they can drive to the Mysterious Book Store, MJ’s favorite spot. On the way there, they listen to MJ’s favorite conspiracy podcast (”Lizard People”); on the way back it’s MJ’s mix of music, which Peter is never opposed to, as they banter over who made the better purchase. Then, it’s back to her place, where Peter is currently in the process of cleaning up after their dinner mess.

MJ is fiddling with her laptop, trying to illegally download the documentary she has been telling him about for weeks that he never got around to actually watching, when he finally breaches the topic.

“So,” he mentions, his voice rising slightly in pitch as he sets the pan they used for stir fry in the dishwasher. “Are you… Y’know. Are you okay?”

Even with her back to him, Peter can see MJ’s shoulders stiffen from the sofa. There is quiet between them for a minute as Peter puts their forks away, but it is not an uncomfortable one. It’s the kind of silence he’s grown accustomed to since he and MJ have started spending more time together: a pensive quiet. Sometimes, MJ needs a minute to put her thoughts together. Ever since she first expressed the need for it, Peter’s grown to appreciate it more and more.

Right now, though, that appreciation is mingled with concern.

After a second, MJ quietly exhales from on the sofa, turning her body slightly so that she is looking into the kitchen while he puts in the dish soap. The machine has started to whir softly before she finally answers, brown eyes watching him intently.

“I mean, I’m disappointed. But I think I will be.” Her tone is quiet, measured. Still, Peter can hear the slight catch in her throat on the word ‘think,’ and his eyes met hers, holding her gaze. She quirks the corner of her lips up into a small, slightly sad smile, asking him not to mention it. He nods and lets out a breath, straightening up and heading to her little box of loose-leaf tea, which she has painted with dark foliage.

Despite the heaviness to her gaze, a quiet, thankful gratitude sparks in those eyes as MJ follows the movement. “The middle finger mug. It’ll help me maturely manage my feelings.”

Peter’s snort of amusement causes her little smile turn into a smirk, and her shoulders relax as he retrieves the mug and lightly scoops some of her lavender tea into it. No diffuser for her– MJ likes the texture of the wet leaves, something she has always insisted vehemently. However, Peter fills one of the tiny metal contraptions up with his cinnamon chai, and then sets his Ruth Bader-Ginsburg to steep on the counter beside the mug she requested, which is currently flipping the kitchen off.

Peter rests his back against the counter, facing her in the quiet for a second. Her wicked smirk softens slightly as they take the moment to just look at one another across the warm light of her parents’ apartment, breathing each other in. She’s told him about how empty it feels here when her parents are gone for work (so all the time); since then, he’s made every effort to be here as often as he can. They’ve built a friendship here, learning each others’ rhythms and preferences. Sometimes, they’ve built a little more than that… Her head on his shoulder when she falls asleep to a move, her fingers tentatively stroking his hair when he collapses on the sofa beside her after a patrol night.

Even now, in this moment of disappointment, they’re building something strong– stronger than rejection.

“Maybe it’s good.” MJ speaks up, causing Peter to lurch out of his thoughts, out of the dark eyes he’s grown to love drowning in.

“Huh?”

“Berkeley,” Michelle hums, amused as she shoots him another smirk. “I mean… It’s California. Far. Bard is closer.”

“Right, totally,” Peter says quickly to show he’s paying attention. “Besides, you know, California people… Lots of, uh, social media influencers and stuff.” He’s really just citing his stereotypical knowledge of the West Coast, but MJ seems to appreciate the effort.

“Yeah. A ton of people pretending that everything is perfect,” MJ agrees. “I’d probably suffocate. And really hot, too.”

“But you’re always cold,” Peter finds himself saying, bemused.

MJ shoots him a look, but she seems to find the comment funny. “Not helping, Peter. Come on, at least try to slander this place with me.”

“Right, sorry.” Peter can’t help his grin as she turns back to her laptop, responding to the ‘ping’ of its tinny speakers telling her that her piracy is complete. “Well, slander sounds good to me… With our drinks, of course. Wait, we could spill tea both literally and metaphorically.”

“Peter…”

Peter grins as he picks up the cups, back to her once more as he tries to balance the heated mugs so that they will neither spill nor burn his hands off. “Sorry, sorry. I know terrible puns won’t help right now. Though, I don’t really know if they would help ever-”

“Peter.”

There is something in her voice, which has gone deathly quiet, that causes Peter to turn a little too fast. He winces as the cinnamon-scented tears of Satan splash onto his skin, but as he quickly sets down the mug his eyes do not leave the back of her head, which is frozen above stiffened shoulders.

“MJ, are you…”

“Peter, I got in.”

There is a moment of silence, and the only sound is the dripping of the tea that Peter spilled slipping over the lid of the counter-top. Peter is frozen for a moment, eyes wide as he looks to where she is sitting. After a moment, he finds his voice.

“But, I thought-”

“There was a mistake with my email,” MJ says, turning to face him. Her eyes are wide, and though she is clearly trying to stay calm, the speed of her tone and the smile that bursts through no matter what betray her emotions.

“They got me mixed up with another Michelle Jones. Apparently it’s a common name, but I think it’s more likely the government was trying to suppress my voice by restricting my access to higher education-”

“MJ.” This time it’s Peter’s turn to interrupt, a grin edging across his lips as his eyes take in her dancing eyes. “You got in.”

A laugh bubbles from Michelle’s throat, wild and incredulous and something that sounds like a dream. “I got in.” She says the words once, testing them out on her lips, and apparently liking the way they feel. “I got in!”

“You got in.”

In an instant, she is tripping over herself to get off her sofa, and Peter is racing across the kitchen to meet her in the hug that she initiates. Her arms wrap around his neck as his circle her upper back, holding her tight as she laughs. For a moment, he holds her close his eyes squeezing shut as she wraps her arms tighter around her neck.

After a few heartbeats of pure elation, Peter pulls back just slightly. MJ does the same, her eyes holding pure light in the dim glow of her living room lamp, and her arms do not leave his neck. The two stand together in the embrace, and suddenly Peter feels his heartbeat increase as he comes to a realization.

He… Wants to kiss her.

Peter bites his lip, catching his breath, and MJ’s eyes flicker down to his mouth before returning to his own. There is something more than just excitement now… A tentative, uncertain glimmer of something deeper, and understanding.

The two of them haven’t kissed since returning from Europe. They’ve held hands, they’ve sat next to each other and given little touches and even snuggled a bit closer for warmth. But they’ve been taking it slow; MJ doesn’t like labels, and Peter’s happy to just explore what they are and save the kiss they’ve already shared for the moments when he feels like he can’t keep going.

But now, he can’t seem to suppress the urges he is feeling: to bring a hand to her cheek, to brush the few wisps of hair that have fallen into her eyes away using a gentle touch. And, based on the way her hands come to rest, brushing the base of his neck, he thinks that she just might feel the same.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispers, trying not to think about the lack of distance between them.

“Y-yeah,” MJ breathes, lips slightly parted as she looks down at him. “You know, Scientology first started in Southern California, and the Manson Murders were in L.A. So if I get any offers to join a cult, I’ll totally make sure that they’re willing to recruit you.”

Peter laughs softly, but his eyes don’t leave hers. Lightly, her fingers relax at the nape of his neck, cradling it gently. He catches his breath as her thumb carefully strokes the skin there, and he can tell she notices by the way she holds her own breathing.

“MJ… Can I kiss you?”

There is a moment of quiet between them as her finger stops caressing the back of his neck and she stares inscrutably into his eyes. Peter blinks several times, cheeks warming.

“I mean, it’s okay if-if not. I’m happy for you either way, and I just… I’m crazy proud of you, even though they’d be stupid not to accept you really, and I-”

Her lips come down to meet his before he can dig himself into a deeper hole.

It’s their first kiss since the bridge in England, and as his eyes flutter closed Peter is worried that maybe he’s doing it wrong. At first, it’s not quite the right angle– she’s taller, for one, and it takes a second to bring their lips together so that they fit against one another.

The kiss is hesitant, gentle… Experimental. Peter knows Michelle, and he knows that it takes her a moment to get comfortable in new experiences. This is new for him, too, so it’s good to take it slow. Her mouth is soft against his own, careful, and at first it’s just a gentle brushing of their lips.

Then she kisses him again, and this time it’s more insistent. They’ve started to figure it out: where their noses need to go, how to hold themselves. One of her hands gently moves up the back of his neck, gently sliding her fingers into his curls. The other comes to cradle his cheek as his own hands lightly tug her upper back closer, offering support.

It’s perfect. It’s new and it’s a kiss of growing, of learning each others’ angles and contours and keeping them in mind. It’s the lemon-flavored Italian soda they had with dinner, it’s MJ’s beeswax lip balm, it’s the feeling of his hoodie swallowing her slim shoulders beneath his fingers. It’s the quiet of her apartment and the soft hum of appreciation that travels from her lips to his before they gently part, foreheads resting together to take a breath.

Peter keeps his eyes closed for a moment, and when they flutter open they find her deep, dark irises peering into his curiously. There’s a shy grin on her lips, but though both are a bit bashful, she’s not hiding.

She’s letting him look, letting him see her in a way that no one else gets to. For all of her walls and her mystery, MJ is inviting Peter to read her story and to stand by her side as she writes it.

She’s sharing one of the biggest moments of her life with him, and Peter has never been so grateful.

When Peter closes the distance between them once more, her raspy laugh against his lips tastes like home. In the warmth of her apartment, free of pressure and labels and prying eyes, Peter is happy to prompt many more soft laughs, to explore the place he has found at her side for as long as she’ll let him.

Taglist: @eniemeanie @inlovewithtoomanythings @booksarelife-stuff @AlexanderThyGreat @flawless-tlc @heynowitsafangirl @but-saving-what-we-love @haurasha @friendly-spoodermin @lundya366 @nicolewithasoul @1am9root @spiderkaren

#spideychelle #michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones x peter parker #spideychelle fanfiction #fluff #kiss #original work

46 notes · View notes

saiilorstars · 4 years

Text

Next Stop, Everywhere

Chapter 27: The Clever Girl and the Time Lord

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Female OC

(Minerva’s face claim: Victoria Camacho) (Kaeya’s face claim: Michelle Trachtenberg)

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter summary: One year has passed since the Master took over and over the course Minerva has formed a new bond with a certain crystal and its owner. When the fight begins again, princess Kaeya will make an appearance to settle the truth.

// Story Masterlist //

"Everyone is gone except you and I. I need you to leave!" an ashy-brunette woman ordered a woman beside her with shoulder length black hair and blue eyes.

"But I can't leave y-"

An explosion that didn't sound too far rocked both women, nearly knocking them to the snowy ground.

"Zohar, get out of here, NOW!" the brunette shouted and pushed the black-haired woman back.

"But Kaeya, I can't just leave you here! We can leave, we can escape somewhere..." Zohar looked around, seeing their premises were clear for the moment.

"Anywhere we go it'll be a risk. Everyone's gone, Zo. But there's a ship in the south, it's been hidden but it still works. Go!"

Zohar's eyes watered up, "But...but I can't..."

"I already lost my parents and grandparents. I will not lose my only friend on this planet. Go," Kaeya turned Zohar around.

"But-" as Zohar tried to turn around, Kaeya had lifted her arm up to reveal a Vortex Manipulator, "Where are you going?"

Kaeya bit her lip as she tried figuring out the blasted manipulator, "You and I both know what we saw minutes ago. That ship...that ship belonged to Time Lords, and if it belongs to them...then..."

"Kaeya, you'll get yourself killed! And for what? A chance? What if it's not even him!?"

"I'm willing to take that chance," Kaeya looked up, dead serious, "If you haven't noticed, I have nothing left on this planet. This is my last hope, so please just go."

But Zohar wouldn't have it, she marched up to her friend and set her hand over the manipulator on Kaeya's wrist, "Fine, then we go together."

"Zohar, I can't ask-"

"You are my princess, you are my friend, and we go together."

Kaeya sighed but activated the manipulator.

I gasped lightly as I woke up from the awful dream. I lifted my head from my spot on the floor and looked to see if any of the Jones's had woken up. It was dark inside the Valiant's cell rooms, everyone sleeping as much as they could. I shared a cell with Martha's family for the night, the most uncomfortable place to sleep in. Most of us took the floor for a sleep, none of us accepting any commodity from the Master as it would probably bite us later.

I turned flat on my back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling my chest slightly ache as was usual after having those dreams I'd taken custom to having ever since this awful year started. Sometimes they were good ones, nice little scenes but...then I'd get those types of dreams, of a war, and suddenly they weren't dreams anymore, they were nightmares. Worst of all they weren't even nightmares that belonged to me...they belonged to a certain princess of a certain snowy planet.

I shut my eyes, forcing myself to try and return to sleep, praying that just for tonight my sleep would be dreamless.

~ 0 ~

Francine and I entered the main room of the Valiant where the Master greeted with his usual, mocking tones and smiles, "My little toy," he pointed as I set the tray of food on the table. He reached for my arm but I jumped back, gasping with horror. He frowned and looked around, sending a smirk at the Doctor who sat on a wheelchair across the room, still elderly, "That's a peculiar reaction...haven't really had that one all this time," he stepped forwards and I quickly stepped back, "Have I finally broken you?"

I swallowed, "Stay away from me..."

"What's wrong with her?" he looked at Francine.

"We don't know, she awoke like that," she muttered, giving her usual glares at him.

"What's wrong little toy? What's changed between last night and today?" he stepped forwards again and I quickly went around him and Francine.

"It's...it's the crystal, its affects," I hugged myself, giving them my back, "They gave me nightmares."

"In that case you should let me help you," I heard his footsteps nearing followed by his hand touching my shoulder.

"No!" I cried and moved farther away, spinning to face him, "Don't touch me! Stay away! I saw what you did and I don't want you anywhere near me you cold-blooded murderer!"

"Oh, those are definitely new reactions," the Master smirked.

"I saw what you did..." my voice broke and I shook my head, "How cold are you? You're pure evil!"

"Tell me exactly what you saw?"

"No."

"I said tell me," he stepped forwards, his playful tone gone and replaced with his serious, ordering one.

"Why? I don't want to remember!" I put a hand on the side of my head and sniffled, "It's stuck inside and it's awful, I don't want to remember."

"Minerva," the Doctor called, his voice slightly scratchy from his new age.

Without a thought or hesitation, I dashed to where he was and encased him in a hug, uncaring if I accidentally pushed him back on the wheelchair. I wept quietly into his shoulder and felt his arms move to hug me. The poor Martian had no real strength anymore but this hug was just as good as his others, cause it was still given with the same intentions: comfort.

"This was your intention?" he demanded from the Master, "Make her cry? For what?"

"That was not my intention," the Master plainly said, "I had no intentions from her except entertainment with a measly crystal. That crying is all her, all the emotional mess humans are."

"I'm not a mess," I shot back, glaring daggers at him, "I'm reacting like a regular person would after seeing a murder! You are despicable!"

"Now let's not go insulting or other people can get hurt," the Master warned, eyeing the Doctor as an example.

"Don't," I quickly wiped my face, "I'll stop but...but don't hurt anyone."

"That's more like it. I won't tolerate any insults from you, little toy. Remember, your acts define whether or not your family continues to live."

I swallowed hard and nodded. It had been only a matter of hours, on the first day the Master took control of the Earth, for him take my family into custody. He kept them on Earth, locked up somewhere...I had no idea where they were, if they were being properly fed, well-treated...all I knew was that if I didn't obey, they would be killed.

"Leave them alone," the Doctor said.

"Of course, come to defend the poor human," the Master rolled his eyes, "Perhaps that kind of defense might have prevented poor Kaeya's demise."

"You leave her alone!" I snapped, surprising him and the Doctor.

"You defend her?" the Master raised an eyebrow.

"How can I not? After seeing what you did to her..." I swallowed hard.

"How did you see it?"

"Your crystal showed me."

I certainly wasn't going to reveal to him nor the Doctor that I had been having dreams of Kaeya and her past life for the past couple of months. She'd been able to use the crystal the Master used on me to create a link between us. With that link she showed me certain moments of her life on the Monsoon, and last night had been the most horrible moment I ever had to see. It was plain awful and no matter what my thoughts had been on Kaeya no one deserved to go through what she had to.

But something was wrong with the princess.

Over the past months I've been able to learn more about her and her people. I can actually say that she had been a lovely, kind person to everyone she'd met. It made me feel genuinely bad for my past thoughts on her. We'd been able to get to a new relationship level of friends as weird as it was. It wasn't that hard to construct after seeing some of her moments with the Doctor and the moments she'd had with her family. It was like she and I shared the same dreams of adventure, only she couldn't have that. After having a dream (that's not really dreams but her memories in reality) of her having an argument with her grandfather about leaving her planet, I understood her even more. So when she asked me to help her, I couldn't refuse. She needed mine, but mostly the Doctor's, help, and I planned to help her.

Of course, that didn't mean I was okay with the fact that she still remained in love with the Doctor...

Beyond everything, I still wanted the Doctor to myself. I wanted him and it broke my heart that Kaeya was still coming back to try and rekindle what they had in the past. I didn't blame her, now that I knew how long she'd gone without seeing the Doctor and suddenly knowing that he was alive...I'd go after him too. But there was something she would need to face when she returned and she knew...after all, she had willingly returned several things to me.

"The crystal, right," the Master seemed to buy the lie but not the Doctor as he was still giving me a sharp look that made me look away, "Well, today we'll get to learn what else it can do."

The Master had taken custom of using me every-so-often to figure out what else Kaeya's crystal can do since it apparently worked for me only, despite its burns. But it was because of that crystal that was the origin of the link between us and so as much as it physically pained me. I endured the burns it gave me to keep my contact with Kaeya.

"But for the meantime, let's all appreciate this new Time Lord Empire. It's good, isn't it? Isn't it good? Anything? No? Anything?" neither the Doctor nor I spoke, " Oh, but they broke your hearts, didn't they? Those Toclafane, ever since you worked out what they really are. "

The crystal had also shown me what those Toclafane really were...and I nearly cried.

"They say Martha Jones…has come back home. Now why would she do that?"

"You leave her out of this," I quickly ordered.

"Oh, touchy territory, again," he put his hands up.

"She's my best friend, and she's gonna kill you...unless Kaeya does it first."

"Interesting, see because it's been a year, and there's been no sign of the snowflake princess," he shrugged, "Guess someone isn't coming."

"Yeah, you keep thinking that," I looked around, "But let me remind you her spirit lurks...she's sneaky, Master. Don't think one night she might reappear and kill you in your sleep."

"Such dark talk for a young woman," he shook his head.

"Says the man who's taken nearly 90% of the population."

"I'll make it 95% and nice little Americans if you keep talking."

I swallowed, feeling my fear trade in for weariness, "I've done everything you wanted so far. Why won't you at least let me talk to my family?"

"Does get Martha to talk to her family?"

"Well...no, but-"

"Gotta keep the game fair, don't I?" he teased.

"You're going to die," I declared, not a warning, simply a statement, "You'll be stopped and then you'll die."

"Minerva," the Doctor said, tugging on my arm.

I turned to him, kneeling in front of him, "I'm sorry, Doctor. But he's committed an atrocious crime..."

"Look at that, hm," the Master sauntered over, his hands behind his back, "You turned a human who abhors deaths and violence into a...killer. How does that make you feel, Doctor?"

"I never said I was going to end you. I'm simply saying you've angered a very powerful woman. You tried murdering her and she survived, something you weren't expecting. You keep thinking of Kaeya as that snowflake princess but the truth is she's sick. She's not well anymore, she's sick and she has no control...I bet that'll give you nightmares, never knowing when she'll appear."

The Master simply looked to the side, none too pleased to hear my words.

~0~

"Right here," the Master patted the seat beside him, his wife Lucy on the chair to his left while another woman, Tanya, was massaging his shoulders.

Suppressing my hisses, I carried Kaeya's crystal in my bare hands and placed it on the table, "There," I opened and closed my hands repeatedly and flinching at the intense stings. Truthfully, my hands were destroyed from so many burns, not to mention their pain it caused me.

"What shall we do with this toy today? Hm, ladies, any ideas?" He glanced at Lucy and Tanya.

"How about you leave me alone?" I suggested, "Murderer."

"Condition red!"

"What the hell?" the Master jumped from his chair and ran up the stairs to the bridge.

Repeat: condition red.

Francine quickly grabbed the Master's jacket and threw it to Tish who then handed it to the Doctor. I watched helplessly everything, the pit of my stomach telling me it wouldn't end well.

"Oh, I see," the Master turned to the Doctor who aimed his laser screwdriver.

"I have one thing to say," the Doctor said, but the screwdriver didn't work...

"Isomorphic controls," the Master leaned over, plucking the screwdriver from the Doctor's hands and then backhanding him, sending him to floor.

"Doctor!" I moved to run but the guards were quickly on it, restraining me with ease.

"It's his fault," the Master gestured defensively, "And hers," he shot the wall beside Francine, still grazing her leg, "Say sorry," he commanded darkly.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry!"

"Mum!" Tish ran over to her.

"Didn't you learn anything from the blessed Saint Martha?" Lucy ran over and helped the Master into his jacket, poor thing looked like she would crack before us, "Siding with the Doctor is a very dangerous thing to do. Okay. Gotcha," he lifted the Doctor into a chair at the table, "There you go, Gramps," he sat on the edge of the table, looking around the room to Tish and Francine, and then me, "Oh, do you know, I remember the days when the Doctor, oh, that famous Doctor, was waging a time war. Battling Sea Devils and Axons. He sealed the rift at the Medusa Cascade single-handed. Ooh. And look at him now. Stealing screwdrivers. How did he ever come to this? Oh yeah. Me!"

"I just need you to listen," the Doctor tried to say but was cut off.

"No, it's my turn. Revenge! Best served hot. And this time…it'll be a message for Miss Souza and Miss Jones," he snapped his fingers, the guards moving me up.

"N-n-no, please," I pleaded, seeing him pick up the crystal.

"Guess what I discovered today? Man do I love to research," he smiled, placing the crystal in my hands despite my struggles to push it away. "It's a very nice trick."

"It's burning me..." I bit my lip hard, tasting a bit of the metallic flavor of blood from the strength.

"Leave her," the Doctor reached out but to no avail.

"One...two...three..." the man counted, "...it's a lovely feature, really. I tell you with this little crystal the Time Lords could have won the war," he nodded to the guards and stepped back, "...did I mention...four!" he pressed a part of the crystal.

I felt a shock start up at my wrists that quickly spread to the rest of my body. It felt like every inch of me was on fire. It made me wonder if this is what it felt like for the Doctor when he had been taken over by the sun of McDonnell's ship. I screamed at the top of my lungs, dropping to my knees when it all stopped, but flinching when the burns and the aftershocks struck every second or so. Eventually, it was just too much and I fell on my side on the floor.

"Amazing, how do you keep doing that?" The Master bent down beside me, moving a piece of hair from my face with his stupid laser screwdriver, "You keep surviving. After everything that crystal's done...you just keep surviving..." He had the audacity to sound awed by my persistent survival.

"Get away from her," the Doctor snapped, falling from his chair in his attempt to reach me. At least he did. "This was my plan, my actions. You don't have to hurt her."

"But I do, because that's how the message gets through. And now for Miss Jones..." the Master smirked, standing up.

"Minerva? Can you hear me?" the Doctor lifted my head up.

"He's...he's a m-murderer...awful..." I twitched with no control, "...I h-hate him."

"My people. Salutations on this, the eve of war," the Master began his broadcast, a stupid camera in front of him, the guards picking up the Doctor by my side, though I remained on the floor...my eyes wandering to the crystal not too far from me, "Lovely woman. But I know there's all sorts of whispers down there. Stories of a child, walking the Earth, giving you hope. But I ask you…how much hope has this man got? Say hello, Gandalf," the Master moved to the Doctor's side, " Except he's not that old but he's an alien with a much greater lifespan than you stunted, little apes. What if it showed?" he looked down at the Doctor, "What if I suspend your capacity to regenerate? All 900 years of your life, Doctor. What if we could see them?" he used the screwdriver on the Doctor again, the poor Martian convulsing again as he aged even more, "Older and older and older. Down you go, Doctor," the Doctor fell to the floor, writhing in pain as the Master continued.

I struggled to move towards the crystal, it wasn't even that far...if I could just stretch...

"Down, down, down you go," the Master finally stopped and silence fell over, "Doctor," he bent down in front of the Doctor's clothes on the floor which were empty.

My hand touched the crystal...

A large, domed head peered out from the Doctor's clothes, blinking eyes as he looked around.

The Master stood up and faced the camera, "Received and understood, Miss Jones?" the transmission ended.

As a tear rolling down my face as I broke a piece of the crystal.

~0~

Kaeya stepped forwards, only a couple feet away from her favorite iced-lake, "Hello?" she cautiously called, her hands at her sides and balled up, swirls of snow forming underneath them.

There was a foreign spaceship on the other side of the iced lake with an open door. She recognized it was Time Lord ships but she had listened to Zohar's words and would act with caution until she proved that it really was the Doctor. Zohar currently awaited not too far from the lake, just at the right amount where she could act in case Kaeya needed her.

"Who's out there?" Kaeya called, remaining in her place.

"Help..." came a muffled voice from across, a man's voice.

"Since you are on Moontsay territory and I'm..." Kaeya swallowed as she gathered her courage to speak her next words, "...the last of the royal family, you will answer me. Speak your name right now."

"Kaeya..." she saw a man stepping out of the ship, looking injured around the abdominal area.

Kaeya's eyes watered up at the mention of her name, "How do you know me?" her authoritative tone faltered.

"Because I love you, why else?" the man dropped onto the snow on his hands and legs, "Please help me."

"Doctor? Is that you?" she stepped onto the lake, tears beginning to stream down her face, "Is that really you?"

"Yes, but please...help me."

"If you're hurt you can regenerate, do it, please," Kaeya rushed over, forgetting her caution as she dropped beside him.

"I can't, I need your crystal to heal myself."

"Are the injuries that bad?" she tried to inspect them but he kept moving from her, "Let me look at your face," she had to smile even through all the losses and pain. It had been ages since she'd seen the Doctor, he'd changed again!

"Help me stand, please."

Kaeya nodded and wrapped an arm around his waist while his arm went around her shoulders, "What's happened? Why do you need the crystal?" she asked as they walked down the iced lake.

"Don't waste time, Kaeya. I can't heal myself unless I have it. Please, don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, with my life. The crystal is inside the castle but I can't leave you here. Here," she moved in front of him and took her arm back. She frowned when she saw no blood of any kind on them, "Doctor, where exactly are you hurt?" she looked up to see a wicked grin on the man's face, "Y-you're not the Doctor..." she stepped back, her eyes wide with terror.

I jumped in my spot of sleep and snapped open my eyes to see I was still in the cell that had become a sleeping room for me and the Jones's. I groaned and sat up, leaning against the bar cells, "What happened?"

"You passed out, that's what happened," Tish answered, "After you were practically electrocuted."

"I'm not even cuffed," I looked at my free wrists.

"I believe the Master's words were: a gift," Tish rolled her eyes, "I swear to God I'm gonna kill him."

"I'm gonna kill him," Francine corrected her, "If I have to wait 100 years, I'm going to kill the Master. One day he'll let his guard down. One day. And I'll be there."

"No, that's my job. I'll swear to you. I'd shoot that man stone dead," Clive kissed her, the two apparently back together.

"I'll get him. Even if it kills me," Tish reinstated.

"Don't say that," her mother scolded.

"I mean it. That man made us stand on deck and watch Japan burning. Millions of people. I swear to you, he's dead."

"I don't think any of you will have to kill him," I sighed, garnering all their looks.

"Why do you say that?" Tish asked.

"He's had luck for an entire year, but everyone's luck runs out eventually. That man has done wrongful things, murdered a person and that can't go unpunished. It's cliche but I believe justice will prevail."

The three just stared at me like I was crazy. I'm pretty sure they wanted bloodshed but as much as I hated the Master, I didn't think bloodshed was necessary. I was sure the Doctor would have some kind of punishment he saw fit for the man, the only thing I hoped was for Kaeya to find some peace with the punishment he would choose.

~0~

Everyone was sleeping, including the Master...so I started taking out the crystal bits hidden within my clothes, making sure to be as quiet as possible.

~0~

"What now?" I groaned as I was brought inside the main room again, really all I wanted was to be back in my cell with the Jones family, hopefully to try and get some needed sleep.

"Ouch, a bit rude for someone who just wanted to talk," the Master flashed a grin as he plopped down at the end of the table.

"Oh, you want to talk?" I raised an eyebrow, the man nodding silently, "Okay, return the Doctor to normal and we'll talk all you like."

"Clever one she is," the Master glanced at the Doctor, now in a cage by his orders, "Isn't she?"

"Leave her alone," the Doctor ordered.

"I just want to talk," the Master sighed, as if annoyed no one would believe him.

"Make it quick cause I got things to do," I rolled my eyes.

"I thought you were afraid..."

"I was, I am, but I figure it's better to be angry with you than afraid of you. You don't deserve my fear."

The Master rolled his eyes and motioned for the guards to sit me down on a chair beside him, "So I was thinking, you could tell me what exactly Kaeya's been up to."

I smirked, "You're afraid."

"Am not."

"Are too. My words did get to you. Well, unfortunately for you, I don't know what she's been up to."

"You are the last being linked to this stupid thing," he took out the crystal and placed it on the table, "You activated it, god know's how, and now it responds to you, meaning...you have an open link with Kaeya," he neared the crystal to me, smirking when he saw me stiffen, "And the woman was telepathic, she can speak in other's minds. Seeing as your the closest person to that," he nodded back to the Doctor who was watching carefully, "I'm sure she's contacted you somehow."

"Well you're out of luck cause she hates me," I lied and shrugged. It was best to keep that thought alive, "She hasn't contacted me, she never did. The only reason she was in my head in the first place was cause I wore her necklace one time."

"Where is the necklace?" he looked from me to the Doctor, "It seems it has disappeared..."

"Even when the TARDIS is cannibalized it still manages to get you," I smirked.

"Where's the necklace!?" he shouted, making me flinch.

"Leave her alone!" came the Doctor's voice, a couple sounds of struggle against the cage afterwards.

"I just want to know where the bloody thing is!" the Master turned to him.

"Why?" I stood up from my seat, pushing the guards away from me, "What is so important of that thing?"

He glanced back at me, "You know, it's really quite amusing to know that the human who claims to be so clever-" he returned his gaze to the Doctor, "-and the man who was able to end the greatest war of in the universe haven't figured out what that necklace is in reality. Idiots!" He shook his head.

"It's a necklace with a mysterious energy level," I said, "How would you know its purposes?"

"It's called research, my darling. I've had a whole year plus the eighteen months I spent here, unbeknownst to you both. That necklace can bring so much destruction, if treated properly."

"You can't even touch it," the Doctor reminded, "It burns you."

"I'm sure I'd be able to find another way to unleash its power," he gestured to his black glove, "And since Kaeya has not returned then it means its power is still intact."

"Well you're out of luck cause neither of us know where it is," I shrugged.

He turned around, shooting me a glare, "How do I know you're speaking the truth?"

"You don't. And that's your problem, not mine, nor the Doctor's."

"You mark my words, I will find that necklace and when I do, you'll be the first one I unleash it on," he narrowed his eyes but his threat meant nothing to me.

~ 0 ~

We watched Martha be escorted inside the bridge room, up to the Master. She glanced at Jack and I and smiled. She looked over to her family and the Doctor before being forced down on her knees in front of the Master.

"I'm gonna need your teleport device. In case you thought I'd forgotten," he held out his hand. Martha threw her manipulator over to him, "Down below, the fleet is ready to launch. Two hundred thousand shops set to burn across the universe," he grabbed the communicator, "Are we ready?"

"The fleet awaits your signal. Rejoice!" a man responded.

"Three minutes to align the black hole converters. Counting down!" he gestured to the counting clock against the wall, "Never could resist a ticking clock. My children, are you ready?" he turned back to us.

"We will fly and blaze and slice! We will fly and blaze and slice!"

"At zero, to mark this day, the child, Martha Jones, will die. Ha, my first blood, well second," he shot me a smirk, "Ha, any last words? No?" he glanced around but didn't receive what he wanted. He stopped with the Doctor, "Nothing? No? Such a disappointment, this one. Days of old, Doctor, you had companions who could absorb the time vortex. This one's useless!" he looked up to me, "And this one's a freak all on her own."

"Murderer," I whispered.

"Sh, sh," Jack nudged me, offering a dim smile.

"Bow your head, Martha Jones. And so it falls to me, the Master of all, to establish from this day, a new order of Time Lord's! From this day forwards-" Martha started chuckling, cutting him short of words, "What's so funny?"

"A gun?" she looked up, still chuckling.

"What about it?"

"A gun in four parts?"

"Yes, and I destroyed it."

"A gun in four parts scattered across the world? I mean, come on. Did you really believe that?"

"It doesn't matter, I destroyed it," he shrugged, still in the dark.

"As if I would ask her to kill," the Doctor spoke up.

"It still doesn't matter. I've got her exactly where I want her," the Master gestured.

"But I knew what Professor Docherty would do. The Resistance knew about her son," Martha explained, "I told her about the gun so she'd get me here. At the right time."

"But you're still gonna die! Doesn't matter!"

"Don't you wanna know what I was doing? Travelling the world?"

He rolled his eyes, "Tell me."

"I told a story, that's all. No weapons, just words. I did just what the Doctor said. I went across the continents all on my own. And everywhere I went found the people and I told them my story. And I told them to pass it on, to spread the word so that everyone would know about the Doctor."

"Faith and hope? Is that all?" the Master could care less, "Really?"

Martha stood up, "No, cause I gave them an instruction. Just as the Doctor said."

"I told them that if everyone thinks of one word, at one specific time-"

"Nothing will happen! Is that your weapon? Prayer?"

"Right across the world. One word, just one thought, at one moment… but with 15 satellites!"

Now he was getting it, "What?" he blinked.

"The Archangel Network," Jack reminded, with a smug smile.

"A telepathic field binding the whole human race together," I smirked, "Martha?"

"Oh, yes," she smiled, statically, "And with all of them, every single person on Earth, thinking the same thing at the same time. And that word…is Doctor."

"Look at that," I pointed at the clock, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached number zero."

We looked over and saw an energy ring glowing around the Doctor.

"Stop it! No, no, no, no, you don't!" cried the Master.

Everyone around closed their eyes, thinking of only one thing, one person, one name.

"Doctor," I whispered, hearing everyone else do the same.

"I've had a whole year to tune myself into the psychic network and integrate with its matrices," the Doctor was saying, his voice returning to the one we knew best.

"I order you to stop!" the Master yelled, "Stop this right now!"

We opened our eyes, and found the Doctor in his normal self, growing closer to the Master.

"The one thing you can't do. Stop them thinking. Tell me the human race is degenerate now when they can do this."

"No!" the Master tried to shoot at him but it was easily deflected.

Martha ran back to her family and gave them a hug.

I started digging into my pocket...

"You killed Kaeya..." the Doctor continued, his face turning dark for a second or two, "I don't know how you did it but you killed her. But you know what? I'm sorry. I'm sorry for you."

"Fine, then I'll kill all of them," the Master looked around, stopping at Jack and I, "Starting with her!" he aimed his sonic at me.

But a blue light zoomed through the room and knocked the sonic from his hand, making it fade away. And just like that, the light was gone along with the sonic. I blinked, feeling some sense of familiarity with it...like it had been there before.

With no way of protecting himself, the Master started backing away from him, "You can't do this! You can't do—It's not fair!"

"And you know what happens now."

"No! No!" the Master cried, backing away up to the wall.

"You wouldn't listen," the Doctor floated towards him, "Because you know what I'm going to say."

"No!" the Master curled up on the floor.

The Doctor finally landed on his feet and walked over to him, bending down and giving him a hug, "I forgive you."

"My children!"

We felt the ship rock a little and the Doctor looked around, "Captain! The paradox machine!"

"You men! With me!" Jack called for the guards, "You stay here!" and he ran off.

The Master pulled out his manipulator and disappeared...along with the Doctor.

"Minerva, the spheres!" Martha pointed to the window, "They're gonna come for us," she ran up to get a better look.

"I don't think so," I mumbled, opening my hand that burned and looking down at it. I looked back at the table where Kaeya's crystal still remained, about to head for it when the Doctor and the Master returned again. Suddenly, the ship rocked again and made us all fall to the ground.

"Everyone down! Time is reversing!" the Doctor yelled.

We remained on the floor or wherever we could until the ship finally stopped.

The Doctor stood up and quickly went to go check on the controls of the ship, "The paradox is broken. We've reverted back, one year and one day. Two minutes past 8:00 in the morning," he turned on the communicators.

This is UNIT Central. What's happened up there? We just saw the President assassinated!

"You see? Just after the President was killed, but just before the spheres arrived. Everything's back to normal," the Doctor looked back, "Planet Earth restored. None of it happened. The rockets, the terror. It never was."

"And the spheres?" Martha questioned.

"Trapped at the end of the universe."

"But I remember it," Francine stood up.

"We're at the eye of the storm. The only ones who'll ever know. Oh, hello!" he turned to Clive, "You must be Mr. Jones! We haven't actually met!"

With that distraction, the Master ran past us towards the door.

Jack stopped him and turned him back around, "Woah, big fella! You don't want to miss the party!" he glanced at a guard, "Cuffs," he grabbed them and cuffed the Master, "So what do we do with this one?"

"We kill him," Clive stepped up.

"We execute him," Tish glared.

"No, that's not the solution," the Doctor said.

"It's really not," a new voice rang throughout the room.

"I know that voice..." Martha became alarmed.

"As do I..." the Doctor agreed, nervous.

I turned to face them, a brand new necklace around my neck, its burn at an all-time high, "You tried murdering me you bastard!" I/Kaeya shouted as I stormed towards the Master.

"Doctor, that's Kaeya, she's doing it again!" Martha ran towards me, her face in anguish.

"No," I turned around, closing my eyes for a second, knowing they were filled with Kaeya's blue hue, "This time it is different, I assure you that."

'Well, this is a twist," the Master's said, making us turn around, "Is it really you, Kaeya?" he smirked, "The great princess of the Silver Monsoon...inside a human body?"

"My essence remains, Master," I/Kaeya glaring at him, "All this time you've been theorizing what happened and I can assure you that you are correct. I triggered it."

"Well, well, well, Moontsays aren't that primitive as they were thought to be, abominations," he spat.

"If we were abominations I wouldn't be here right now would I!?" I/Kaeya shouted, "If anything we are more powerful than your people! But unlike you I wouldn't use feelings against them to kill them."

"Kaeya, you're hurting Minerva," the Doctor pleaded, turning me around, "Please, leave her alone."

"She's not being hurt, Doctor, there's more control this time," I/Kaeya smiled, "But look at you..." I raised my hand to rest it over his cheek, "...alive. You're alive..."

"How are you doing this?" Martha demanded from behind, "And what the hell are you and that man talking about?" she shot the Master a glare.

"Minerva broke the crystal into pieces, creating a replica of the necklace I had made in the past. With a little bit of my essence I was able to activate it and allow only a small part of me to return for a few minutes. So don't worry, I won't be long, just a couple of minutes..."

"But what for? What do you want?" the Doctor asked, taking my hand off him.

"I need you to help me, Doctor. I'm going to die if you don't help me," I/Kaeya looked at the crystal that still laid on the table, "Everything went wrong and I can't fix it on my own. Please help me."

"Why are you telling me this now? Why didn't you say anything before when you took over Minerva's body?"

"It was the wrong part of me that took her over. It wasn't supposed to be like that. I've apologized, I swear. But please help me, cause if you don't...I'm sorry but I won't be the only one to die." I turned to face the Master, a glare forming on my face the moment I laid eyes on him, "And I hope you rot in hell for what you tried doing with me."

"You survived, didn't you?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look okay to you? I lost my entire family, my people, my friend...I don't know where any of them are! I am a wreck and I may die again! But I'm going to do something I should've done far too long ago," I turned back for the table.

"What are you doing?" the Doctor asked, suspicious.

"Destroying the thing that brought my entire planet destruction. If Minerva was to destroy it on her own it would simply have reformed again. Now that she has a little of my essence we can finally destroy this thing once and for all," I picked up the crystal, the burns starting immediately.

"But your grandfather is still alive!" Martha exclaimed, "If you're really dying then shouldn't you wan to keep that crystal?"

"It can't do anything for me anyways," and then I threw it to the floor, the crystal shattering into pieces. I passed over the bits, stomping on them until they were itty-bitty pieces that could never come together, ever.

I gasped suddenly and stumbled forwards, the Doctor immediately rushing and catching me before I fell, "It's okay, I've got you."

"Will you help me?" I/Kaeya asked, reaching to touch his face once more, "Will you help this screwed-up princess?"

He nodded, "Yes, I will. But you have to tell me what you did to survive."

I/Kaeya half-smiled, "That's the man I've missed. It's been a long wait to be able to talk to you again, but it's been worth it. Thank you."

"Right, but-"

"And please remember that I love you, I've never stopped. There's something important you need to know."

"What is it?"

"Moontsays, we can," I swallowed, "We can-""

I gasped one final time and felt my energy drain as the necklace around me deactivated itself. The Doctor held me before I fell and gently set me down on the floor.

"We have to help her," I whispered, my own voice free of overlapping.

"Yes, we will, but-"

...there was a gunshot. I glanced back, seeing Lucy holding a gun that was aimed straight for...

"No!" the Doctor shouted, seeing the Master on the floor with a gunshot wound, "Martha, help!"

Martha rushed to us and took his place at my side on the floor while he ran to the Master.

"Put it down!" Jack ran over to Lucy, cautiously taking the gun from her.

"I've got you, I've got you," the Doctor set the Master down on the ground.

"Always the women," the Master half-smiled.

"I didn't see her."

"Dying in your arms. Happy now?" the Master glanced at me. That was never Kaeya's intention.

"You're not dying, don't be stupid. It's only a bullet. Just regenerate," the Doctor brought his attention back.

"No."

"One little bullet c'mon," the Doctor insisted, frantically.

"I guess you don't know me so well. As an old friend of mine said, 'I refuse'."

"Regenerate. Just regenerate," the Doctor gritted his teeth, slowly breaking down, "Please! Just regenerate! C'mon!"

"And spend the rest of my life imprisoned?"

"You've got to. Come on. It can't end like this. You and me, all the things we've done. Axons? Remember the Axons? And the Daleks? We're the only two left, there's no one else. REGENERATE!"

"How about that? I win," the Master paused, "Will it stop, Doctor? The drumming. Will it stop?"

He closed his eyes for the last time and died. The Doctor grew frantic, poor thing, rocking him back and forth as his tears streamed down.

The rest of us watched the Doctor cradle the dead Time Lord in his arms. I looked up, feeling that we were being watched, and found that blue light from earlier making rounds up in the ceiling.

~0~

The Doctor, Martha, Jack and myself now stood by Pierhead Building, overlooking the bay. I sat under the rails, my legs dangling down, unconsciously opening and closing my hands. They were practically destroyed with all the burns and cuts from the crystals, Martha promising to look it over as soon as we got to her parent's home.

"Time was, every single one of these people knew your name. Now they've all forgotten you," Martha sighed.

"Good," the Doctor nodded, going under the rails and sitting beside me, "How are your hands?"

"They hurt..." I admitted, letting him take them into his, "...just a little though."

"Yeah right, you took bits of a burning crystal into your hands, hid them and touched a burning crystal everyday. I'm not that big of an idiot."

I playfully rolled my eyes, "No, but it'll be fine with proper care."

"Yeah but-"

"It doesn't matter, Doctor," I smiled broadly, "You're here now, restored to your usual idiot self," he smiled, "And my best friend's back too," I glanced up at her, "And the immortal too," Jack shot me a wink, "All that's left is to..." I returned my gaze to the Doctor, finding him very close to my face, "...call my grandmother," I whispered, swallowing hard.

He took my hands into his, sadly watching how I flinched with pain as his fingers passed over my destroyed skin, "...I wish you'd remember."

"...remember what?"

He leaned forwards, "It's just...I can ramble on for hours and yet when I want to speak these words...my m-mouth goes all dry and-and I stutter and..."

I saw Martha's legs, from the corner of my eyes, passing by us. With any luck, we could have a small moment alone. "Just take a deep breath, Martian," I offered, seeing him getting really worked up.

The Doctor sighed, still struggling to speak, "Minerva, I'm...I-"

Suddenly, he was pushed forwards, his lips landing perfectly on mine. My eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of something warm pressed onto my mouth, a feeling that was all too familiar.

"I have been waiting months to do that!" Martha cheered on the side. "I literally had to push!" She started laughing and seconds later Jack joined in.

The Doctor and I pulled away, both blinking at our actions. I was nervous of what he could do or say next...how Martha had practically pushed him on me...

"I wish you'd remember," he whispered instead with the same sadness that filled his eyes. He kept glancing down at my hands like he was too scared to face me.

"Remember the fact you nearly made me fall in love with you in 1913? Or that I posed as a blind woman who called herself Lisabetha and stole your human heart?" I raised an eyebrow at him, almost laughing when his eyes snapped up to me.

"Y-you...you remember?"

I smiled, "I remembered a long time ago. Kaeya returned my memories months ago."

"So...you remember, everything?" his hand reached to cup my face. My eyes wanted to close at the soothing touch of his fingers. "You remember our kisses? Our time together? You remember all of that?"

I nodded, "Yup. You bloody Martian got straight to work as a human."

"This is...this is amazing!" he laughed, bringing my hands to kiss them...until he remembered their condition.

"I can take care of them," Martha reminded.

"No," he cut in before I could say anything, "Minerva, I know I don't deserve you. I've been stupid, stupid and oblivious. But I was confused, I was really, genuinely confused...but then I realized, back in 1969...that it was you who I wanted to kiss."

"And that's why you kissed me secretly while I slept?" I loved seeing his reactions at the fact that I already knew this information, "Doctor, I wasn't asleep! That's what I wanted to talk about, remember? I wanted to know why you did it...why you kissed me..."

"Because you're wonderful. When I saw you sleeping, I had to go closer...and seeing you, it reminded me of our moments in 1913 and it made me yearn for them. I wanted to kiss you again, feel your lips on mine again...so I went for one...apparently not so secretly."

"Here's a secret, Martian," I leaned forwards, "I would've gone for one too..."

His hands took mine again, and slowly we leaned over to reconnect our lips. I could feel all his honesty in this kiss, how his mind had been cleared...his yearn to just kiss me again. I also felt my right hand being gripped, the stings striking again, and moved a little off to our sides. Something warm started spurring inside it, making me pull away.

...there was orange energy wrapping around it...and my left hand.

"Doctor, no," I whispered, seeing him use his own energy to heal my wounds, "It's a waste."

"Never. Nothing will ever hurt you again, I swear on my life. And if anything tries, if anything gets past me then I'll heal you myself."

"You're wonderful," was all I had to say. I looked down at my hands and was amazed at how normal they looked again. It was like nothing ever happened to them. "Wow..." I whispered. I looked up, ready to thank him...when I met a pair of lips on mine, pulling me into a kiss of a life time. My hands went up to his shoulders, feeling his arm wound around my waist that 'discreetly' brought me closer to him, deepening our kiss.

"Alright, cut it out you two, people are starting to stare," Jack's hand patted our heads.

I pulled away, completely blushing, "Sorry..."

"I'm not," the Doctor whispered with a smirk on his face.

"I told you, Minerva!" Martha bent down beside us, "If the human version fell for you, it meant the big, daft original one had already done so."

"I guess you were right," I conceded, "The amazing, brilliant, original version likes me."

"So, so, much," he brought my healthy hand up to his lips, "And the clever girl actually looked at me twice!"

"If you knew how many times I could not force myself to look away, think about something that wasn't you. What do you think I did all that year? The Year that never was? Do you think I thought about Jack?"

"Hey!" the immortal man gave a cry, not too pleased.

"Shut up, you owe me and I'm trying to make a point," I waved him off, "Or how about that date with Jerome?"

"I don't like him," the Doctor immediately stated, "Now I can say that clearly. I. Don't. Like. Him. I was jealous, very, very jealous that you were out with him and not with me. I hated the fact he gave you a present before I did, and a good one! I hated it and I hated him. I still hate him."

"Also right," coughed Martha.

"But why did you hide 1913 from me?" I asked, still confused, "That actually would've been really nice to know about."

He sighed, "Cause I was confused and you deserved better. I wanted to be fully committed to you. Plus, I was scared."

"Why?" I nearly laughed, "It was pretty obvious how I felt."

"Yeah, but...it didn't stop me from being scared," he said and I nodded, understanding him, "So...about us...you and I...is there an 'us' and a 'you and I'?"

"There is if you want it to be," I nodded.

"Oh yes!" he exclaimed, "Most definitely!"

"You and me, then? As an item?"

"Oh yes..." he whispered, leaning forwards again, his gaze locked on my lips, "...because I already wasted a year pushing my feelings away from you. No more. Everyone can go to hell because I just want you."

"Oi!" Martha and Jack cried, again not so pleased.

"Shut up," the Doctor and I said as we went for another kiss.

"Well I'm gonna get back to work. I don't want to see a snogging session," Jack declared, making us pull away once more.

"You know, Jack, I really don't mind, though. Come with us," the Doctor offered.

"Oh, I think it'll be fun having an immortal man around," I agreed.

"I'm sorry but according to the Doctor over there, I''m a flirt and I'd make you uncomfortable."

I laughed, "Right, right."

"I stand by that," the Doctor pointed between us.

"A little flirting isn't bad, Doc," Jack smirked, "It gets other people to speak up."

"We make such a good team," Martha remarked to him.

Jack laughed, "Anytime you need me just call. But seriously though, I had plenty of time to think that past year, the Year That Never Was. And I kept thinking about that team of mine. Like you said, Doctor, responsibility. Plus, you might be a bit busy now..." Jack's eyes wandered over to me.

"Defending the Earth. Can't argue with that," the Doctor moved to shake his hand...and then we saw the manipulator Jack wore.

"Hey, I need that!" the immortal cried as the Doctor pointed his screwdriver at the manipulator.

"I can't have you walking around with a time-travelling teleport. You could go anywhere—twice. The second time to apologize."

"But I bet if that one over there," Jack nodded to me, "Asks for a manipulator, she'd get it in a heartbeat."

"I'll admit it may be a little more challenging to deny her things, but..." he glanced at me, "I'll try my best."

"And when that doesn't happen, you can all meet me with Leonardo Da Vinci," I grinned mischievously, "He promised he'd make a portrait of me!"

"No, absolutely not," the Doctor frowned, a finger pointed at me, "Especially now that I can call you mine!"

"Was your jealousy the reason why I couldn't go back to Da Vinci?" I raised an eyebrow, "We were just friends back then, brand new friends actually."

"Well..." he pondered, seeming as though even he didn't know, "...I am not exactly sure. I just know that I didn't want you near him."

"That's the start of jealousy," Martha pointed out, Jack nodding in agreement.

"So does this mean I'll never get to see Da Vinci again? Cause I really liked him," I frowned.

The Doctor chuckled, bringing me closer to him, "Tell you what, I'll bring you to any other artist you want. You name it."

"Renaissance, 1700's?"

"Yes, just for you," he tapped my nose, "Anything for you..."

"I like this very much," I whispered, resting my head on his chest, "Finally."

"Finally," Martha threw her head back, "A whole year's worth of work finally paid off."

"Well, again, it's been nice, but I really gotta go," Jack stepped back, looking just so eager to get back to Torchwood, "And Minerva, if you're ever in need of a new job, I've got you covered," he winked.

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll be working anytime soon. I've got someone to be with, now," I glanced up at my Martian, "And I'd like to be with him 24/7. "

"Understood," Jack nodded.

"But actually," I wiggled out of the Doctor's hold and stood up. I went straight to hug Jack, surprising him for a couple seconds.

"For the record she began the hug," I heard him warn, probably the Doctor of course.

"Minerva, what are you doing?" the Martian nearly whined.

"I just wanted a hug from the immortal man, everyone got one so why couldn't I?" I pulled from Jack and nodded, "And you give very good hugs."

"Thank you," Jack nodded then promptly moved me back to the Doctor, "Now stay there," I laughed and sat back down beside the Doctor, "Before I do leave though, I have one question cause, see, I can't die...but I still age. Can you fix me? Will I ever be able to die?"

"Nothing I can do. You're an impossible thing, Jack," the Doctor shrugged.

Jack laughed, "Been called that before," he straightened up and saluted, "Sir. Ma'am's," he made to leave then turned back around, "But I keep wondering…what about aging? 'Cause I can't die but I keep getting older. The odd little grey hair, you know? What happens if I live for a million years?"

"I really don't know," the Doctor just smiled in amusement at the man's worries.

"Okay, vanity. Sorry. Yeah, can't help it. Used to be a poster boy when I was a kid back on the Boeshane Pennisula. Tiny little place. I was the first one ever to be signed up for the Time Agency. They were so proud of me. They Face of Boe they called me. Hmm, I'll see you," he ran off towards the water tower.

I looked between the Doctor and Martha with wide eyes, "Oh my god..."

"Can't be," Martha shook her head.

"No, definitely not. No," the Doctor said, but he started to laugh, "No!"

"Oh I am not gonna let that one live down!" I laughed.

"Not a word," the Doctor warned, still getting over his own laugh.

"But-"

"Not one," he pulled me back to his chest, kissing the top of my head.

That was the end of all my words, feeling very content at the moment because I'd finally gained something good, something very, very good.

~0~

"Yes, grandma, I'll stop by soon. Mhm, yes, bye," I hung up the phone of the TARDIS, tears in my eyes.

I flinched when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind, "Sorry," the Doctor whispered, moving to unwrap himself from me.

"No," I placed my hands over his arms, making him stop, "I'm just not used to this...but it doesn't mean I don't like it," I glanced up at him, blushing.

"Me neither," he admitted, wiping my face of tears, "So how are they?"

"You were right, none of my family remember anything. I even called my mother, took her by surprise, she still gave her usual yells. But she did tell me my dad was fine...everyone is fine."

"So why we're you crying?"

"Because I'm happy," I shrugged, "My family's fine, the world is saved...and I've got you, now. Everything is just fine."

"Just fine," he turned me around, leaning us against the console, "Finally."

"Are you okay?" I whispered, realizing I hadn't even asked about him, "You just lost the only other Time Lord and you discovered who killed a very important person to you."

"I...don't know. But I do know that I won't forgive him for what he did to Kaeya."

I shook my head, "What he did to her was plain awful, Doctor, "Do you know how she was attacked, though?" I looked up at him, "What he did to get near her?"

"No, what he'd do?"

"He pretended to be you. He pretended to be the one person she would always help. He tricked her into telling him where her crystal was and then...then..."

"Who the hell are you?" Kaeya backed away from the man that clearly was not the Doctor, "And where's the Doctor?"

The man just laughed, "You are quite stupid my dear. The Doctor is no where near this planet."

"Who are you?"

"I am the Master, and you have just told me where your precious crystal is, meaning I have no more use for you," he pulled out a decent-sized knife from his jacket's pocket.

Kaeya's eyes widened as she stepped back, "No, wait, you don't have to do this. The crystal won't activate unless I touch it. You need me."

"Actually, there was a corpse of your grandmother out in front of the castle. Pretty sure I can use her too as she was part of the Royal Family."

"But you can't kill me," Kaeya pleaded, her eyes watering up, "Please, it's not fair. I already lost everyone, at least tell me if you know where the Doctor is. Is he alive? Is his family okay?"

"Let's not do this, please. I'm short of time," he lunged for her but she jumped back.

She quickly turned around and tried calling out for her friend, "ZO-" but she was spun around in a second and gasped at the immediate plunge of a sharp object into her stomach. She tried gripping the man's arms, forming only bits of ice on it as her powers and energy started to fade, "No..."

"If it's any consolation, I hear your people have a myth," the Master whispered into her ear while making sure the knife was dug in deep inside her stomach, "If it's true then I guess one day we'll see each other again. Maybe you'll even find out whether or not your precious Doctor made it out alive."

Kaeya's eyes watered up as she looked at him with utter horror, "But I-I don't know how to...tell me how, please..."

"KAEYA!" came Zohar's scream.

"My cue to run," the Master grinned and stepped back, pulling the knife out of her as well. He undid the manipulator on her wrist and strapped it on to himself, "Castle here we come. Bye!" he waved and flashed out.

Kaeya fell to the iced lake with a thud, convulsing and gasping here and there, "Mommy, I need to remember..." she shut her eyes while her tears streamed down.

"He stabbed her and left her to die for a crystal that in the end he couldn't even get working," I sighed, "That's cruel."

"But you said there was someone else with her, right?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I guess a friend. She was called Zohar. I guess she helped Kaeya. Doctor we have to help her. When she talked to me, she said she needed your help because she couldn't fix whatever she did on her own anymore."

"To help her I need to know what she did first," he rested his chin on my shoulder, oblivious to how deeply he was making me blush with our closeness, "The Master apparently knew what it was but it's not like we'll be getting anything out of him."

"I'm sorry, she didn't tell me either. The link between us wasn't too stable, only few words could get through."

"No, it's alright. I'll figure it out."

"I want to help too," I admitted, turning around, "I told her I'd help so I'm gonna keep my word."

"You sure you're okay with that? I know it's not easy..."

"Well, she is still in love you so that'll be a challenge. But all feelings set aside, she's not that bad of a person and she needs help. I'm no one to deny her that."

He smiled and rested a hand on my face, "Well, if this makes it easier for you, I want you to know that I choose you."

"C'mon, Doctor, a first love never really dies, you know. I'm okay with that, really. Some part of you will always love her but if I can take over those two hearts of yours then I'll be the happiest woman in the world."

He half-smiled, "Already done."

I leaned up to kiss him, but struggled with his height, making us both chuckle, "You're quite tall, Martian," I remarked, merely able to brush my lips on his.

"You're quite small, clever girl" he countered, leaning down and closing the gap between us.

Our kiss lasted a mere minute when we heard the TARDIS doors opening, "So, is this how it's gonna be from now on?" Martha put a hand on her hip, "Snogging all day?"

"Quiet Martha," I pushed the Doctor off me.

"I'm your best friend, it's my job to tease."

"Anyways, Off we go! The open road!" the Doctor went around the console, excited to start our trips again, "There is a burst of starfire right now over the coast of Meta Sigmafolio. Oh, the sky is like oil on water. Fancy a look? Or…back in time. We could…I don't know, Charles II? Henry VIII? I know! What about Agatha Christie? I'd love to meet Agatha Christie! I bet she's brilliant..." but we looked up and saw her smiling in what could be called an apologetic manner.

"Martha?" I frowned, walking over to her.

"I just can't," she said to the Doctor then looked at me, taking my hands, "It'll be just fine."

"What are you talking about?"

"She's not coming," the Doctor joined us, "She's staying."

"But...but why?" I blinked, misunderstanding my best friend's decisions.

"I've spent all these years training to be a doctor. Now I've got people to look after. They saw half the planet slaughtered and they're devastated. I can't leave them."

"But...what about us?"

"Hey, we can still talk over the phone, visit each other. And besides," she took my hand and the Doctor's, putting them over one another, "You've got each other now."

"But I already lost one best friend," I whispered, thinking of Mickey and who he might be doing at this precise moment.

"But you're not losing me. I'm simply...moving out!" she shrugged, "Nothing has to change. I'm just gonna continue my studies, be with my family. I think I did what I had to do, what my purpose was in all this...get my two favorite people in the world together."

"Well for that job I'd give you an A+," I sighed as I glanced at the Doctor, "And for saving the world, 200%!"

Martha chuckled, "Thank you. But I've got some presents for you two," she announced, digging into her pockets, "Doctor, here," she handed him her cellphone, "Keep that. 'Cause I'm not having you disappear. If that rings, when that rings, you better come running. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," the Doctor nodded.

"And for you, I've been working on this," she pulled out an mp3 player, with earphones, "You can't be in a relationship with an alien of 903 years old where even he listens to music."

"But I don't even-"

"It's already got pre-downloaded music, even that Spanish music you liked," she handed it over, "Though those were a bit tricky..."

"You listen to Spanish music?" the Doctor turned to me.

"Well, I'm half Mexican. I'm not gonna ignore that part of my heritage," I winked, pulling one earphone into my ear, searching for one specific song, "Besides, there's a song I like that relates to you and I."

"Really?" he beamed, "Mind if I can hear?" he leaned down to kiss me.

"Ah, ah," I put a hand to stop him, gesturing to the mp3, "Found it," I walked to the side, hearing Martha's snicker.

"I don't like your present," the Doctor muttered to her.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you might not. But I had to give her something to distract her at times. I don't want her snogging you all the time."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," the Martian declared, neither of them seeing my smirk.

"Thought you might," Martha sighed, "Minerva?" she called.

I turned around and returned, pulling the earphone out, "Yes?"

"I'm off, take care," she hugged me and the Doctor, "And behave," she pointed with a fake serious look.

"Martha!" we both scolded, blushing like mad.

She laughed and walked towards the doors, "I mean it. I want hands off each other."

"Bye Martha!" we mock glared.

"Martha?" I called before she opened the door, "Thank you. You saved the world, you helped me...you helped us," I glanced at my Martian, oh, that felt nice...my Martian, "Thank you."

She smiled, "You know what, I'm good. I'm really good."

"Yes you are," the Doctor nodded.

"I just hope that Minerva will see she's so not second best," she watched my smile fade, her eyes softening as she glanced at the Doctor, "But that's your job now, Doctor. Make her see she's grand all on her own...that she's the best."

The Doctor, although confused, nodding, winding an arm around my waist, "She is the best."

"Hm, hear that, Minerva?"

The Doctor gave me a sharp look, trying to decipher what was going on. I shifted on my feet, feeling like I could kick Martha because I didn't need the Doctor to know about my insecurities. It didn't matter.

Martha chuckled, "I'll see you later, guys," she waved and walked out.

"Minerva, are you okay?" the Martian asked, leading me back to the console, "I got the feeling Martha was hiding something from me. And if it concerns you then I need to know."

"It doesn't matter," I waved him off, watching him start up the old box of wonders.

Swiftly, he yanked me to his side, locking me between the console and him, "I've wasted so much time ignoring you, pushing my feelings away...I was an idiot, a big idiot. But no more. And you know what?"

"What?" my voice was just above a whisper, my heart beating faster as he pressed his forehead against mind.

"There's one thing that attracts me to hell from you..." he leaned me against the console and placed his hands on my waist.

"What?" I blinked, swallowing hard and feeling my face warm as the sun.

"That..." he smiled softly, "...you're clever...and I like it."

I fiddled with his lapels, avoiding his look as I was blushing like mad, "It's a good thing I like you too then."

"So we're on the same page, then? You and I, in the TARDIS, next stop everywhere?"

My eyes looked up, and for the first time I didn't feel just happy as in laughing and smiling...but that kind of happy where your stomach is just always full of butterflies, always feeling a warm tinge. I don't think I've ever felt like that, not even with my grandparents. This was something different and I definitely liked it.

"Doctor, next stop everywhere," I whispered.

He smiled, looking me over and making my body just burst with bubbliness and happiness, especially when he leaned down for a kiss, one that would seal this actually perfect day.

We pulled apart in time as a ship's horn rang in our ears. We barely managed to glance back when the TARDIS shook unexpectedly and sent us to the floor.

"What the hell...?" I lifted my head up to see a ship's ocean liner.

"What?" the Doctor reached for a life preserver, "What!?" he turned it over...

...and we saw the word 'Titanic' sprawled across it.

"Big what..." my eyes widened, both of us glancing at each other and the life preserver.

Author's Note:

And voila! The story shall continue in a new season, with new characters, new problems and a new title...Star-Crossed. It's already listed on my profile! Go check it out!

Thank you to everyone who’s read/reblogged/liked!! I hope you continue to like the next story as well!

SEQUEL: Star-Crossed

#ocappreciation #doctor who #10th doctor #dw imagine #10th doctor imagines #doctor who fics #dw fics #10th doctor fics #oc: Minerva Souza #oc: Kaeya Louvier #fic: next stop eveywhere

6 notes · View notes