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potter-imagines · 3 years

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A Worm? - Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Prompt: It’s three in the morning and Fred can’t sleep. Luckily for him, his girlfriend has to most random questions on her mind.

Notes: I've seen this on tiktok as trend to text your boyfriend so I made it into a write, hope you enjoy (:

Warnings: None (: (making out if that counts ???)

Word Count: 3.9k

You know that feeling of finally retreating to your room and crashing down on your bed after a strenuous day? Getting to snuggle into the warmth of the soft mattress and engulf your body in massive heaps of blankets, it was one of the greatest feelings in the world to Fred Weasley. Although what made it absolute perfection was the nights when his girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n, would join him. Sleepovers were no rarity for the couple- nor for their roommates who had begrudgingly accepted the constant giggling and whispering throughout the night. Weekend sleepovers were his favorite as it meant neither of them were scrambling to get out of bed for class in the morning and he could lay with her for as long as they wanted.

Tonight was no different. Nearly every living soul occupying the lands of Hogwarts was fast asleep, lulled into a galaxy of dreams. Fred wondered if he was the only one awake at such an hour. The darkness from the nighttime sky poured into the room through the glass windows. The light casted shadows around the room making it difficult to make out the different shapes. Fred could barely make out the sleeping frame of his twin brother, George, who was tucked in his bed feet away. Similar was Lee, however his thunderous snores echoed off the walls giving confirmation that was in a deep sleep.

On Fred’s half of the room the silence was deafening. Lee’s snores had become second nature for Fred to block out and in all honesty, didn’t bother him much. Growing up in a home with eight other people, he had that keen ability to muffle out the noise around him. He had to in order to keep a piece of his sanity intact. No one in their sane mind could sit and listen to Ron and Ginny bicker for longer than five minutes before wanting to rip their hair out of their skull. In the same way, noise was comforting to Fred. Yeah, he ignored it for the most part, but it was a familiar feeling to be surrounded by loudness. It was discomforting in a way how still the world felt. Few and far between were the moments when Fred had time to himself. Now that he did, he didn’t want it.

Stealing a glance down to his chest Fred smiled at the sight. Y/n’s head was pressed against his sweatshirt covered chest and her hand was clenched around the material. Her body was cuddled close to him with a blanket draped over them. Fred watched as her stomach lightly rose and fell with every breath. He had lost track of time, not entirely sure how long he had been holding her. Seconds meshed into minutes which grew to hours. He was sure he’d been staring at the ceiling for almost three hours. His attention flipped back and forth, like the pages of a magazine. From the angle he laid, Fred wasn’t able to see if Y/n was awake like him or passed out like his roommates. In a cruel way he wanted to wake her on purpose just for the selfish purpose to hear her voice. He resisted the urge to ‘accidentally’ break her slumber.

Fred’s hand traced patterns on her back absentmindedly as his thoughts drifted like a sailboat floating along the ocean waves. The Quidditch match had taken a large toll on his muscles and all he wanted was to rest. Playing Slytherin was a sure guarantee someone would walk away with an injury- or be carried away. Although Fred knew he wasn’t injured, his arms ached with every slight move from the force he had exhilarated during the match. As much as he desired to switch positions and lay on his side, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the girl resting in his arms. From her steady breathing he figured she had fallen asleep, that was until her head suddenly popped up from his chest causing the warmth of her head to flee his body. Her quick movement took Fred by surprise as his hand halted and his eyes fixed on the girl. The feeling of sleepiness was fading as her large doe eyes glanced back up at him. Oddly enough, she appeared to be wide awake.

Arching a brow at her Fred looked utterly confused. If her alertness hadn’t startled him enough, her next actions would leave him mind boggled. Y/n perched herself up to a sitting position and wiggled over to place her legs over either side of Fred’s body so she sat in his lap as he laid. A childlike smile graced her lips at the small gasp of surprise from Fred. Tiredness vanished in her eyes as she tilted her head.

“Hey, Freddie?”

“Yes, angel?” He asked cautiously.

His hands reset to her waist to keep her steady as she sat. The stained glass window to the side of his bed allowed a glimpse of moonlight to create a beautiful gradient across her face. The moonlight, a glowing yellowy white, projected an ethereal glow around her. He swore he could see millions of tiny stars sprinkled along her skin, gleaming pin pricks of sparkles gleaming in her e/c eyes.

Y/n leaned forward to wrap her arms around Fred’s neck causing him to mimic her and sit up so his back was pressed to the bed frame. He grabbed the heavy cotton blanket from behind her and draped it over her shoulders. She smiled bashfully in gratitude. Peeking up to Fred, whose face was only a handful of inches from hers, she whispered,

“If I were a worm, would you still love me?”

Fred’s features scrunched in an instant at her question as he pulled back slightly. Half expecting for her to start giggling and the other half completely flabbergasted, Fred gaped at her in confusion. Yet Y/n’s face remained stoic in seriousness as she awaited his reply. He gave her a funny look, as if she’d grown an extra eye. Repeatedly his mouth fell open, then closed again as he failed to formulate a proper thought.

“I’m sorry- if you were a what?”

“A worm.” She repeated once again.

Fred forced himself to bite his tongue to hold his laughter in. As much as he wanted to chuckle at her randomness, she seemed so invested in his answer he didn’t know what to do. Fred averted his gaze to the window in search of an answer. His brain was stuck frozen, like the tracks in his mind were broken. Turning his attention once more to Y/n, Fred squinted his chocolate brown eyes as if examining her peculiarly.

“And why would you be a worm?”

Clearly annoyed by his constant string of questions Y/n let out a breathy huff as she rolled her eyes. Her hands waved up briefly, shooing his inquiry away without second thought. Shaking her head she pressed further. “Because I just am, now answer the question.”

Stillness entered the room while Fred pondered to himself. This time he didn’t hold back the teasing grin that spilled on his face.

“Well, am I worm too?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows to her suggestively. Y/n shoved his shoulder back playfully as she giggled softly. Fred always knew how to make her smile, even if the situation didn’t call for it. Even if it was three in the morning and the two of them should be flying through a dreamland of sleep.

Fred’s back leaned into the wood of the frame as he allowed his head to touch against it. Locks of ginger hair brushed against his face. Instinctively Y/n moved her hand out to skim them away from his eyes so she could see them. Fred fought a mental war against the shiver that threatened to escape his body from her gentle stroke. Shaking her head, Y/n shot down his interrogation. “No, you’re just a regular person.”

“So I would be a Muggle in love with a worm?” Fred chuckled at the bizarreness to her rules for her imaginary prompt. Although he hadn't a clue where this was heading, it was entertaining and he had every intention of paying into it, including teasing the girl a tad. There was something so adorable about the flashes of anger and frustration that snapped across her face at his procrastination to answer. Fred found it irresistible. The way her cute face knotted into uncomfortable glares and frowns while he continued to toy with her. He loved it.

Y/n sighed to herself, certainly growing exhausted then reiterated,

“No, no, you’re still you, I’m just a worm.”

“A magic worm?” His eyes widened in feign excitement while her’s narrowed. As much as she loved the childlike nature that was weaved into her boyfriend’s soul, it made it impossible at times to have a serious conversation- not that she truly considered this to be a serious conversation.

A deadpan mien was planted on her face. She turned for a moment to make sure George and Lee were still passed out. Then, she moved her head back to Fred before raising her voice a notch to ensure the message was received loud and clear.

“A worm, Fred.”

His fingers fiddled with the loose strings on her shorts as he pretended to debate his answer. Lips pursed into a thin line, Fred brought his pointer finger up to his chin and hummed.

“I mean… sure?”

Y/n’s grip around his neck loosened immediately at his answer. Her mouth skimmed the ground as genuine displeasure entered her veins. She pulled her arms back to cross them tightly against her chest. Fred’s hands found their previous position on her waist in order to keep her from falling off. She pouted over to Fred with her bottom lip poking out. She tried her absolute best to put everything she had into the over dramatic sad puppy look she had mastered. Fred only cooed at her and pinched the skin of her cheeks between his fingers lightly. Y/n grabbed his hand, pulling it away from her face with a scowl. Despite her glowering appearance, Fred felt a smug grin sneaking up.

“That isn't reassuring at all.” She said with a pointed tone.

Fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose, Fred groaned dramatically as he ran his calloused hand against his skin. Peering up to Y/n he brought his hand up to occupy the warm skin on the back of her neck. He drew his hand closer, pulling her towards him, causing their foreheads connected in a tender touch. The bottom hem of his old tee that she now used as a nighttime shirt tickled his arm as she happily leaned in. With their faces barely an inch apart, Fred lifted his hips to place a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips.

“But angel, you’re not a worm.”

“Just pretend!” She grumbled. Although Fred smirked right at her and, in a very snarky manner, said ‘no’. Y/n clenched her jaw in annoyance at his stubbornness and just as she went to tell him again to play along, a light bulb of an idea sparked in her head.

Stealing a glance over either shoulder, Y/n checked to assure both George and Lee were still snoozing. George was practically laying off his bed in a sideways fashion while Lee was spreading starfish across the whole mattress. She swore she could see the drool dripping from his chin from across the room. Her focus swerved to Fred as she felt him adjust under her. Providing him with absolutely no leeway to her plan at all, Y/n locked her arms around Fred’s chest and shoved him down so he was forced to lay on the bed. His breath hitched as his head smacked into the fluffy pillow. The darkness obscured his view leaving him lost at the turn of events until he felt the pressure of her knees pinning his arms to his side. Just like a war attack, she ambushed him. Y/n danced her fingers at lightning speed across his chest and under his arms. Fred broke out into a booming fit of laughter at the abrupt tickle war imposed on him as he desperately fought to get her body off of his. His feet kicked wildly as he tried to free himself but she had too strong of a hold. Fred tried to hold his laughter back but it was all too much for his bdy to handle and the uncontrollable giggles wouldn’t stop.

Y/n laughed at him as she continued to tickle every inch of his upper body that he wasn’t successfully covering. His frantic squirms made it difficult for her to torture him to the best of her ability, however she put up a considerable fight until Fred managed to slip his hand out from between his waist and her knee. Once he did, Fred clamped his hand to her side and flipped the pair around so he was the one sitting on top of her. Both of their chests heaved rapidly as they attempted to catch their breath, both grinning like fools. Fred moved his body to sit in front of her as Y/n took over his previous spot. His hand still remained clenched around her side to keep her from attacking once more. Struggling to regain his composure, Fred gave the girl a teasing glare.

“Fine! Yes, I would still love you very much, even if you were a slimy little worm.”

A satisfied gleam adorned her face as she gave a small cheer. Her arms extended as a welcoming for him to enter. He bent towards her to allow her arms to be thrown around his shoulders. The hug encapsulated his body in a blanket of comfort and love from the feeling of her skin. Fred pressed his lips to her neck and just as he did, her voice broke the air.

“And you’d still give me kisses and cuddles?”

His loud sigh was audible to everyone in the room as his head fell to her chest.

“How in the bloody hell am I supposed to cuddle a freaking worm-” Before he could finish his sentence, Fred saw the look of sadness clouding over his lover’s features and stopped himself. That famous, moody pout had crept its way up and Fred fell victim like always. He reached his hand out to pick hers up from her lap and laced their fingers. Lifting her hand, his lips kissed each of her knuckles then set her hand down on his leg.

“You’re unbelievable… but yes, I would still give you kisses and cuddles. Just not in front of people-” Y/n snatched her hand away from his and threw it across her chest with an animated scoff.

“So you’d be ashamed of me?”

“I hate you so much right now, why the hell are you even asking me?”

The jokingness of the situation breezed out from the room as Y/n tensed. Fred watched her eyes flicker from over his shoulder, then up to his eyes. It was impossible to read the rambunctious ideas bouncing off the walls of her mind and Fred knew better than to speculate but rather give her the time to process. He always said that her mind ran faster than the Hogwarts Express. There was a small smile on her lips, though one he couldn’t read. The spark of glee still flashed through her yet at the same time she seemed uncertain. Her hand pushed loose strands of her hair away from her view, a nervous habit of her’s Fred had picked up on early in the relationship.

Swallowing her nerves, Y/n let her body sink into the plushness of Fred’s bed as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Just wanna make sure you’d love me no matter what.” She mumbled hushly.

Fred furrowed his eyebrows as he studied her in bewilderment. As silly as the conversation was, he could feel a tang of guilt budding in his gut from teasing her. The two had discussed some of the most random, weird topics out there and it was usually just that, a random discussion. Fred was a bit stunned there was a bubble floating around in her thoughts that there might be a time where he stops loving her, because for Fred, the idea of not loving her was simply implausible. Besides, he had fancied her since they met their first year and there was no chance Fred was willing to lose her.

“Okay, well,” Fred crawled to sit next to Y/n’s side as he went on, “I’ll entertain the thought. If you were a worm I would still love you more than any other living creature on this planet. I’d also protect you from all the birds who want to eat you for dinner.” Fred finished by placing a gentle peck to her nose. There was no sense in hiding the contagious grin

“So sweet, Freddie.” The scent of peppermint from her chapstick wafted to Fred’s nose drawing him closer in. Y/n snaked her hand to his cheek and dragged his face towards hers. Right before their lips connected, she paused for a moment. Her e/c orbs flickered to his plump lips, then in one swift motion, she closed the gap with a pucker of her lips and a collision with his. Fred had expected the kiss but was taken aback by the fire she brought to it. The sheer force of her lips caused Fred to sit up and take notice.

Y/n nudged at his side, a silent signal for him to get on top. Fred didn’t need her to ask him twice. He was quick to kick the blankets covering his legs and repositioned himself between hers. Fred leaned forward to spark the flint once again. His hands attached to her face immediately as he pulled her in tightly. This embrace nearly knocked Y/n right off the bed. She parted her lips and felt him washing over like a tsunami of passion, curling her toes, unfurling all her senses as the taste of him impaired her. Her whole body tingled, the pressure of his fram leaning on hers as his arms wrapped around her felt like an array of fireworks during the finale of a grand show. Her lips parted against his and the abrupt swipe of his tongue inside her cheeks sent a rush of shivers through her body. The intensity was overwhelming as she struggled to keep hold of his shoulders.

Y/n came to at the need for air and pulled away from Fred. A sharp breath filled her lungs as her hands pressed against his chest keeping him in place. However, Fred was growing impatient by the second and the need to be as close to her as possible was too strong of an urge for him to ignore.

Fred pulled her in, claiming her mouth again, hungry and intense, until her arms gave in and she was using his body to support herself. She was nearly slipping from the bed from the pure force of his kiss. Fred kept his free hand steady on the back of her neck to ensure she wouldn’t fall but in the moment, she really couldn’t care. Wasn’t like they hadn’t had a makeout session on the floor- come to think of it, George had walked in on them just last week.

Their hands roamed over each other as if it was their first time touching another. His fingertips grazed the side of her neck earning a muffled moan from the girl. She tugged at his red hair, which was a guarantee to keep his adrenaline pumping. A vibration buzzed in her mouth as Fred groaned into her from the lustful pain. His body was ever moving as his hips grinded into her. This was a familiar position yet the passion was what made the kiss so electrifying. His elbows were placed on either side of her head to hold himself up as he moved his lips against hers and continued to work his tongue with hers. Y/n trailed her hand down from his fiery locks to his sharp chin where she pressed his lips as deeply into hers as she could manage.

Softly as possible, Y/n slowly pulled herself away from Fred. His eyes cracked open at the lost of warmth against his skin and he glanced down at her. Both smiled at each other until Fred rolled over and slid under the covers. He fixed the blankets around until he felt satisfied then opened his arms, as if inviting Y/n to enter. She obeyed without question and coozied herself into his arms. He wrapped her in a loving cuddle as he pressed a quick kiss to her temple.

Y/n leaned into his body, resting her head against his arm that was linked under her. There was a comforting silence that replaced the steaming air. The clock on Fred’s night stand shone bright with the time, ‘4:08am’, meaning morning had practically arrived and Fred had yet to catch a wink of sleep.

Just as Fred was preparing himself to welcome his slumber, a notion came. Propping himself up on his elbow, Fred reached out to shake the girl’s shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n?”

Y/n gleaned over to him in curiosity. Twisting her body she set her gaze directly on Fred, as if to show him she was intune and listening.

“Yes?”

“If I were a worm, would you still love me?” Fred asked in a whisper. Y/n leered up at him in a disgusted fashion. It looked as if she had been force fed a full can of lima beans and sardines. Those sleepy eyes were replaced by saucer like eyes of revulsion. Poking her tongue out she pretended to gag as her eyes twisted shut.

“Ew, no, why would I be in love with a worm? You can’t even talk and if I kissed you, I might accidentally kiss your butt, gross!” Y/n covered her mouth to mask her fit of laughter that shook through her chest. Fred’s mouth dropped in shock at her words as she unwrapped herself from his hold to shift to her side. He stared at her in astonishment as she threw her legs over the side of his bed. His hand reached out to yank her back but she was already up on her feet smirking to him.

“Are you kidding me? Get back here!”

“I need to use the bathroom- I’ll be back in a flash, wormie.” She blew him a taunting kiss and a wave, then quietly shut the door as she journeyed down the hall to the restrooms. Fred still heard her unruly laughter from behind the large wooden door. As her footsteps grew shallower, Fred tossed his head into the pillow and rolled his eyes. Just like earlier, silence overtook the room and this time, Fred was overjoyed because it meant he no longer had to hear about worms. That was at least until she got back, then he’d surely be having a discussion.

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wkemeup · 3 years

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Sunrise (7)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 4.8k warnings: ✨kissin✨ 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“I can't believe this happened,” Natasha groaned, sinking further into her couch cushions as if it could swallow her whole. She held a bottle of cheap vodka in her right hand, her left digging through a bag of sour cream and onion chips. Her red hair was untamed for the first time since you’d known her with strands sticking out at the sides and pieces falling out of her braid. She took another swig from the bottle.

“Maybe it’s not that bad?” you offered, though the slight alteration of your pitch gave way to your doubt.

Natasha had been hired through her new security firm to work the art rooms at MOMA. You’d walked her through the hiring process and sat through hours' worth of practice interviews and resume building and anxiously bouncing your knee as you both huddled around the library computer and waited for the email to come through confirming her hire.

She’d worked so hard for this job. She’d held it for almost six months without incident.

Nat deadpanned as she wiped the excess droplet of vodka from her lips with the wrist of her sweatshirt. “I tackled a civilian, Y/n.”

“You said he was acting suspicious! Isn’t that enough of a defense?” you tried, betrayed again by your tone. You winced.

“He was staring at me with those beady little eyes of his,” Nat grumbled, shoving a few more chips in her mouth, continuing before she had a chance to swallow. “He kept looking over his shoulder toward me like he was checking the surveillance of the exhibit, like he might be staging a robbery in his head or coming up with methods to blow it all to shit.”

She huffed the hair from her eyes, only for it to fall down exactly back into place at the center of her forehead. “Turns out the only plotting he was doing was to get my phone number. Didn’t know that, of course, until I’d had him pinned to the ground and his hands behind his back.”

You sighed. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for veterans like Natasha to struggle in maintaining steady employment. Adjusting to civilian life never came easy. It was why so many soldiers chose to reenlist again and again. Even after years of PTSD and the fractured relationships their distance left behind, they boarded that plane. You’d witnessed it firsthand.

“They fired me,” Nat admitted, sinking further into the couch.

She was one at the VA the others feared. With her strong features and deep voice, intimidating glare and the aura of a woman twice her size, no one took to her be anything but the stone-cold persona she amplified. You were one of the few she let her guard down around long enough to see the fragile, loving person underneath.

“I’m sorry, Nat,” you told her. You reached for her hand, squeezing it in your own.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. Move on to the next one, right?”

You nodded. Keep moving forward. It was the most she could do.

“But enough about me,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “What’s going on with you and the broody amputee?”

“Nat!” You swatted her hard on the arm.

She was unbothered, shoving another handful of chips into her mouth. “Don’t pretend like it's not completely obvious how much the two of you are into each other. Every time I look up to take a sip of coffee at book club, one of you is making heart eyes at the other. Spill.”

You didn’t know where to begin. It felt like you’d known Bucky your whole life. But you started with the moment Sam introduced you at the VA. You told her about the moments at the library and how eagerly he read through every book you placed in his hand. You told her about the coffee trips to Luciana’s and the extra time he spent helping you set up for book club and cleaning up when it ended. You told her about the walks in the park and surprise visits at the library.

There were a few moments you left out, like Bucky’s panic attack on the crowded streets and the flashback episode the fireworks created, but you told her about the good parts. The holding hands. The comfort you felt when he walked into the room. The kiss you’d shared just a few hours earlier.

“Shit, we’re talking about James Barnes, right?” Natasha laughed as you told her he’d been the one to press forward to kiss you first. “Sam used to talk about him all the time before he started showing his face around the VA. I’d gotten the impression that he was barely keeping it together after what happened over there, like he was a ghost or something. Sounds like he’s got some game back though.”

You nodded, a laugh on your lips though it felt a little drained. You thought of the picture on Sam’s desk and the vibrance in Bucky’s smile with his arms thrown over the shoulders of his closest friends. You thought of the version of the man Natasha described, the same one Sam referenced in the library the day before when he thanked you for helping Bucky find himself again.

Curiosity crept it. It was more than that, though. You wanted to understand how a man so full of life and charm and energy could be wiped clean so quickly. You wanted to know, not for your own selfish indulgences, but so you could better understand the man you were falling for. A man who lost himself for so long and was only now starting to pick up the pieces again.

“Do you know what happened to him?” you asked, a bitter taste of shame lingering in your mouth.

“I don’t.” Natasha shook her head and you sighed, nodding. You resigned to let the inquiry go entirely – it wasn’t something you’d ever ask Bucky about directly, but then Natasha cleared her throat. “I do know he came home with a Bronze Star, though. Sam said he won't even look at it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A what?”

“A Bronze Star. It’s awarded for exceptional bravery in combat,” Natasha explained. “My guess is it’s got something to do with how he lost his arm.”

You suspected as much. He carried himself with such distain, as if he couldn’t stand the body he was in. You’d felt the sharp cringe in his back whenever your hand drew too close to his left side, how he’d often stare at you in disbelief whenever you so willingly reached out to touch him. He’d never once removed his jacket in front of you and sometimes you wondered if he made careful avoidance of the mirrors in his own home, too.

***

The first time you saw Bucky again, you’d kissed him on the sidewalk. Rushed up to him as you skipped steps descending outside the doors of the Brooklyn Library, hands pressed firmly to the sides of his face, and just... kissed him.

It startled him at first, enough for his arm to hold out at his side, frozen, for just a second too long before it settled on your spine. Your fingers gently traced along the stubble on his cheeks, smiling bright against his lips, and he’d kissed you back as tourists and locals filtered through the busy walkway as if they were little more than a blur around you.

It became routine, it seemed, for Bucky to be waiting at the steps of the library for you. He didn’t shy away when you raced towards him, didn’t flinch when you reached for his hand, didn’t hold his breath so tight he could hardly focus.

Instead, he was full of laughter. He made jokes that would put Sam’s cheesy one-liners to shame. He walked with you on empty residential side streets even when his anxiety had started to ease only so could take his time with you, dragging his feet along the pavement to stay by your side as long as possible. It was what he told you, anyway, and your heart just about leapt from your chest.

You began to see glimpses of the man in the framed picture upon Sam’s desk. Outgoing. Flirtatious. Charming.

Sam noticed the difference almost instantly. The way his eyes flickered over to the two of you, narrowed upon the absence of space between you both as you leaned against Bucky on the couch, books nestled in your hands. Sam had been standing in the doorway to book club, peering in through the window, when you noticed him staring. His smile grew wide upon his face, a very unsubtle and enthusiastic thumbs-up followed, and you waved him off before Bucky noticed he was there.

No one in book club asked questions when after another meeting, you’d taken to resting your head on Bucky’s lap as you read, his own book settling on your shoulder. Tony peered over the top of his binding a few times with a curious stare the time Bucky had finished his book early and spend the remainder of the time reading yours over your shoulder, his finger drawing patterns on the top of your thigh, a kiss pressed to your shoulder here and there. Natasha smirked from her seat on the floor.

It happened so quickly, how easily you’d fallen for him.

Always in the smallest moments, in the sweetness of his smile, in the way he glanced over at you every so often as if he were checking to make sure you were still there. He opened up pieces of himself to you, set them gently into your hands and waited to see whether you’d keep them safe or throw them to the fire. It was agonizing for him – the vulnerability of trust – but you’d hoped that by protecting the pieces he showed you, he’d feel safe enough to give you more. You wanted it all. You wanted all of him.

Sam insisted he’d never seen Bucky smile as much as he has been since he met you, including in the time before the war. It surprised you at first, until you remembered the photo on Sam’s desk. It was the same smile Bucky flashed you just moments before when he swiped a bite from your donut while you were talking to Tony. Teasing. Lighthearted. The weight of mere feathers on his back.

“Y/n? You alright?”

Bucky’s voice drew your attention away from the tourists wandering around the park, taking photographs of the ducks at the edge of the pond and the old oak trees with leaves of fallen red and orange at their roots, the open branches giving way to a view of the Manhattan skyline.

You blinked a few times, turning to Bucky as he sat on your left, his brows furrowed in concern. You must have been quiet for too long, which was unusual for you, so you pushed out a smile for him, a slight squeeze in his hand.

“Just thinking,” you told him.

“What about?”

You pulled his hand into your lap, tracing over the lines in his palm absentmindedly. A distant pulse of his heartbeat could be felt in the tips of his fingers.

“You.”

He smiled at that, the corners of his mouth curving high up into his cheeks. A twinge of pink rested on the tips of his ears. He chuckled in an effort to hide his nervousness, though it lingered into his voice. “Me? I’m sitting right here.”

“What? I can’t think about you?” you teased, bringing his hand up to your lips as you pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He watched you with the kind of awe that left him speechless for a moment. It was your favorite look on him; how his lips parted ever so slightly, the blue of his eyes shading into something softer, the muscles in his face slacking.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, I guess that’s okay.”

“Good,” you smirked, setting in against his side. You rested your head on his shoulder, playing with his hand in your lap as you watched two little boys chasing the ducks around the pond, flapping their arms and trying to encourage the ducks to fly.

You’d been sitting on the old, wooden bench under the tallest oak tree for nearly two hours when you glanced up to find a series of dark clouds rolling in and obstructing the cast of red and oranges filtering along the horizon. They hung heavy and ominous as a shadow lingered over the park.

“Hey Bucky?” you started, sitting up straight as you gestured to the clouds. He had a sort of sleepy look in his eyes like he could have been content to sit there with you all night long. “We should probably get out of here before—”

You felt the first raindrop on your cheek. Wiping it away, you looked up into the sky just in time as sheets of rain poured out from the clouds. You gasped, grabbing a firm hold of Bucky’s hand and yanking him up to his feet.

“Come on!” you yelled over the rush of rain as it slammed onto the cobblestones in the park and shook the trees. Bursting into laughter, you threw the hood of your jacket up over your head in a half-ditched effort to stay dry. Bucky’s hand secure in your own, you took off running, only for his laughter to follow you as he chased you down the streets.

Rain drenched into your hair and ran in droplets down your spine, clothes soaked through to the bone by the time you realized where you were running. Luciana’s was just around the corner, calling to you like trumpets at the golden gates. Hot chocolate nestled between your palms, the warm hum of the radiator, nibbling on leftover pastries from the day. Truly, Heaven.

By the time you reached Luciana’s, you’d nearly slammed into the door trying to get inside. The canopy was incredibly small, no bigger than space for a single person, but you reached out and gripped Bucky by the lapel of his jacket and tugged him beside you to pull him from the rain. You could feel the heat of his breath through his labored pants, the small puffs of warm air pressing out into the cold, and you laughed nervously at how close you were standing.

“Her daughter has a dance recital tonight,” Bucky read from the sign posted on the inside of the door. “It’s closed.”

Sure enough, as you looked inside, the lights were out, chairs flipped upside down and resting on the tops of the tables. Rain poured against the windows, the mist of it still catching your spine and you pressed up closer to Bucky, nearly against his chest. You tried to control how fast your heart was beating, but you were almost certain he could feel it.

“Okay, let me think,” you said, more so to yourself, as you looked out into the streets. They were empty, save for a few cars going about ten under the speed limit and a few teenagers sprinting by in backpacks and school uniforms. Your apartment wasn’t too far from here...

“Follow me!” you shouted over the rainfall, grabbing a hold of his hand.

***

Bucky didn’t have much time to ask questions, because your hand was in his again and suddenly you were dragging him back out into the streets. You took him down the block, through a few back streets, and along a series of brownstones with fallen leaves littering the streets and the high arch of tree branches shading the sidewalk in small relief from the rain.

You skipped up a few stairs, shouldering open the door and pushed Bucky inside. He waiting in the small doorway as you dug through your bag for a pair of keys, wiping a line of rain from your forehead. You exhaled in relief as the door unlatched and you reached for Bucky’s hand again, guiding him inside.

One floor up and the first door on the left, you stepped inside of your apartment and quickly began rushing around to rid yourself of your jacket and the soaking wet shoes on your feet. Bucky stood planted on the doormat, the door closing slowly behind him.

Rain tapped against the outside windows, a dark cloud of grey hanging in the sky and casting a shadow into your living room. A single lamp illuminated the space in a soft yellow tone, touching over dozens of blankets hanging over the couch and bundled up in a basket on the floor, books piled high on the coffee table, newspapers with highlighter marks folded neatly on the kitchen table, and a few cardigans draped over the chairs.

“Can I make you coffee? Tea?” you asked from the kitchen as you wrung out your hair in the sink, shaking off the excess droplets from your hands. Bucky glanced down at the floor, realizing he was carrying water through the hardwoods in your apartment. He winced, quickly making his way back to the doormat.

“I’m alright, thanks,” he said, keeping himself as small as he could on the mat.

“Take your shoes off,” you instructed, pointing to the series of boots lined up by the door. “I’ll go find you some dry clothes.”

With that, you disappeared into your bedroom.

Bucky stepped out of his shoes, wandering further inside. He’d been too out of it the last time he was inside your apartment, too unfocused with one foot across the ocean to really look around.

He found himself drawn to the hallway leading up to your bedroom, with pictures hanging along the wall in old, wooden frames. Some from what looked to be your childhood, with softer features upon your face and dressed in overalls and bright pink sneakers. Then, a few from high school with your arms hung around the shoulders of your friends, mid-laugh. But there was one in particular that caught his attention.

At the very end of the line, hung a photograph of you standing in front of a couple who looked to be your parents. You seemed to be a few years younger, judging by the cut of your hair and the softness in your features. On your left was a man dressed in an air force uniform, hands clasped behind his back. You were standing on an airbase, smiling, but your eyes were red, reflective. Like you’d been saying goodbye and were desperately pretending otherwise.

“This was all I could find,” you said, emerging back from the bedroom with t-shirt and sweatpants in hand. They were too large for you, men’s sizes, and Bucky felt his heart clench as he saw the faded air force logo on top corner of the shirt. He wondered if it belonged to the man in the photo.

“Thank you,” he nodded as you placed them on the counter.

You were wringing out your hair with a towel when he realized you’d changed, too. The dampness on your skin clung to the fresh cotton of your t-shirt, pulling it tight against your chest. He exhaled a tense breath.

"God, look at you,” you laughed, a hand reaching up to touch the tips of his hair as they dripped excess water down onto his shoulders. You pushed it to rest behind his ear, brushing the lingering rain from his cheeks. “It’s unfair, you know?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, confused. “What is?”

“That you look this handsome soaking wet.”

His instinct was to laugh, but the way you were looking at him made his breaths a little shallow, his stomach twisting into knots. You weren’t teasing as you said it, no lingering joke in its wake. He swallowed.

“I... uh... what? No.” He tried to brush it off, but your hands had slid along his waist behind the hem of his jacket and it stopped him dead in his tracks.

He held his breath as you flattened your palms against his stomach, running your fingers over what once had been hardened muscle before he let himself fall into darkness that took over his life for months. Now, his body favored something softer. You didn’t seem to mind though as you bit down on the fullest part of your lip, hands sliding around to his spine.

“Let me take this off? Please?” you asked, voice low, with the kind of inflections laced within your tone that made Bucky shift uncomfortably in his stance. Your hands slipped up along his chest, lingering by his shoulders and you gripped onto the lapel. It was soaking wet.

“You must be freezing,” you tried again, a little lighter this time, offering him a sweet smile. You must have noticed his apprehension because you softened a bit, letting your hands rest against his cheeks as you drew his attention to you. “It’s alright, Bucky. It’s just me.”

He searched your eyes as you gazed up at him and though he tried, he found no reason to turn you away. His heart was pounding in his chest, his right hand shaking a bit, but then, you leaned forward and captured his lips against your own, and suddenly, he was at ease again.

You kissed him and his right hand found its way to rest against your lower back, pressed flat against your spine; it clenched into the fabric, seeking more, and his fingertips brushed over a sliver of bare skin. He felt your hands slid down along his neck, to his collar, until they slipped under the fabric of his jacket against, resting on his shoulders. You were waiting for his permission.

Then, as you pulled away from his lips for only a second, he nodded. Your lips returned to his almost instantly, and he wondered if maybe you were trying to distract him, or help to ease him as the fabric draped down off his shoulders. His heart was thunderous in his chest, louder than the press of rainfall against the windows outside, but there was a sense of calm in it, a nervousness certainly, but a comfort, too.

He felt the weight of the jacket lift from his shoulders as you set it to hang over the chair. He felt instantly lighter, like you’d removed an anvil from his back, and he suspected it had less to do with the rain-soaked fabric than he cared to admit. He kept his eyes closed as your hands roamed along his shoulders, focusing on the feel of your lips as they traveled from the corner of his mouth along his jaw line.

“Bucky?” you called so sweetly it nearly made his knees buckle.

“Mmm?” He felt a little dizzy, high on the touch of your lips to his skin.

He heard the soft ruffle of fabric as you grabbed the clean clothes you brought for him on the counter. Then, your hand slipped into his and he let his eyes flutter open. You were watching him with more affection than he was prepared for. His heart lurched forward, aching to jump right into your arms.

“Come this way.”

He nodded, trailing behind you as you led him into your bedroom. The lighting was dim, barely casting in a soft orange glow from the lamp at your bedside. The clouds were still dark and heavy as they hung outside the windows, the rain obstructing the view of the brownstones across the street.

“Here,” you set the clothes on the bed. “Get changed alright? I don’t want you catching a cold.”

You smiled for him and his heart just about burst. Then, you disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

Bucky stepped forward, running his hand over the Air Force logo in the top corner of the t-shirt. He picked up the shirt, and held it against his nose. It smelled like you, like maybe you’d been wearing it for years now, but there was a name written in sharpie on the inside tag. It was barely legible, but it didn’t look like your own. He tried not to think about who gave you this shirt and who wore it before him, and he quickly removed the damp one soaked to his skin in favor of the one you’d given him.

He changed his pants, too, and a wash of relief came over his body as the chill faded from his skin. The clothes were warm, soft, and he raked his fingers through his hair, thankful it had dried enough to stop from dripping down onto the fabric.

“Hey,” you called, emerging from the bathroom. Your eyes paused on him for a moment, taking him in with the fresh clothes on and something unrecognizable flashed over your features – something that resembled sadness. You shook it off quickly, pushing out a smile as you walked toward him. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

You leaned up to kiss him again and he swore everything around him came to a sudden stop. You tugged him down onto the bed, sliding in behind him as you threw the covers over you. Bucky kept his back pressed to the mattress as you climbed over his waist, settling with just enough of your weight compressing against him that he found a relief in it.

His right hand slipped along your waist line, sliding flat over bare skin, warm to the touch. You smiled against his lips and he found himself laughing as you peppered kisses along his cheekbones, his nose, his hairline, down along his jaw, and then finally – back to his lips again.

So lost in you, in the moment, he felt his left hand slid along the underside of your shirt, fabric brushing over the top of his hand as he touched over your ribs and inching closer to your chest. He stifled a moan as he cupped at your breast, swiping his thumb along the pebbled nipple. It wasn’t until he felt an echo of a muscle spasm at his left shoulder that he realized he wasn’t feeling anything at all.

His eyes snapped open and he found his right hand at the base of your spine, your shirt untouched. Reluctantly he glanced down at his left side; the open sleeve of the t-shirt leaving no pretenses in its wake. He was empty there. A piece of him missing. He tried to swallow back the frustrated groan before it passed through his lips, but you heard it. You felt it, too.

“Bucky?” you questioned, concern littering your eyes as you pulled away. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, of course not,” he replied quickly, brushing his hand along the side of your face until it drew a smile back to your lips. The way you were watching him, like maybe he could entrust you with the darkest parts of himself, if only for glimpse, and it pushed him to say more. “I just... I hate that I can’t hold you the way I want. There’s more that I would—” He groaned, head sinking back into the pillows. “I’m not used to... I don’t— I don’t know how to with only one... um...I haven’t— Not since before—”

He bit down on the inside of his cheek, his ears flushing red. You seemed to understand what he was saying as you nodded ever so slightly; the fact that he’d barely learned how to manage his life again with only one arm – everything from washing his hair to getting dressed in the morning, to chopping vegetables and reading a book. He hadn’t even attempted to consider what it was like to be with a woman like this; to want to hold her and please her and touch as much of her as he could. It never crossed his mind before you.

“I’m in no rush,” you said simply, like maybe you were implying you’d wait around long enough for him to figure it out. Or maybe, you’d be willing to help him learn again. You leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “It’s late. You’ll stay tonight, won’t you? I don’t want you out in that storm.”

Bucky nodded, feeling a little dizzy as he stared up at you. Backlit from the soft glow of the lamp illuminating around you like a halo, Bucky would have said yes to just about anything you could have asked of him. Relief pressed over your features and you sank down onto the bed beside him, curling up against his right side.

Your arm draped across his waist as his circled around your shoulders, fingertips drawing patterns along your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then, you reached over him to turn off the lamp and a comfortable darkness blanketed the room, the only break from the silence the gentle tap of the rain against the windowpane.

For the first night in months, he welcomed the kind embrace of a dreamless sleep.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you

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dangerouslyallaboutdraco · 3 years

Text

Late night talks

A/n: Post battle of Hogwarts but still 7th year Draco. Mainly fluff with implied sex

"I want to go outside." Draco sighed as he rolled over for the 9th time that night. It had been a few weeks since the couple stopped having the nightmares the war left them with, but now Draco was falling into a pattern of insomnia. He was very resistant to the idea of falling asleep and kept his loving girlfriend up for hours at night.

Not that she minded in the slightest. Seeing him all cozy and relaxed in his pyjamas was all she could think about during the battle, it was the only thing that kept her going.

"Please, Y/n." He begged once more. While she couldn't see his face in the dark bedroom, she could easily imagine his pouting.

"Why not?" The girl in bed next to him agreed as she slipped the covers off her body. Draco pulled the covers off his half of the bed and jumped out. "Can you grab me a sweatshirt?" She asked as she put on some shoes.

The overnight temperature wasn't low in summer, but she wanted to make sure she didn't catch a cold. Y/n had been staying with the Malfoy's since the battle, although Narcissa and Lucius spent a lot of time away doing volunteer work. They were still riddled with guilt which left the younger couple alone most of the summer.

Draco threw her a 'Slytherin Quidditch team' crewneck sweater from his closet. She slipped it on over her pyjama top. Draco was so much bigger than her that it hung until her mid-thigh. He admired how much the green knit suited her, even more than him.

"Let's go then, Dray." She told him, holding out her hand for him to take. He laced his fingers around hers and squeezed. It was something he had been doing since they started dating in 5th year.

They walked to the patio door and finally outside. The full moon made the garden brighter than normal and their shadows danced on the grass. Once they'd walked around for a few minutes, Draco took a seat on the grass. Thankfully it wasn't wet so Y/n sat next to him.

"Do you see that one?" Draco asked as he tried to draw a constellation. He continued when she nodded. "That's Draco." He was beaming with pride for his namesake.

Y/n rested her head on her boyfriend's shoulder. Draco wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her into his warm body. "It's almost as pretty as you." She told him. It was no secret that he was very good-looking.

He grinned as she ran her hand through his blonde locks. They sat together in silence as they watched the sky.

"Do you ever think you want kids?" Draco finally spoke. Her attention flicked back to his strong jawline and warm eyes. She recognised the blush on his cheeks she hadn't seen in a while.

When she finally spoke it was soft. "Yeah, with you." It was something she was sure of. Something she had been sure of since the first time he told her he loved her.

His face instantly lit up. "There's nothing I want more than a family with you." He agreed.

"Would you want to carry on the family tradition?" She asked him. He thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Got any ideas?"

He thought about that question for a moment as well. "Eltanin is the brightest star in the Draco constellation, I like that."

"It's pretty," Y/n commented.

"I do have more," Draco said. She nuzzled further into his arm, encouraging him to continue. "Scorpius has been my favourite for a long time. It's the name of the Scorpio constellation. Or Leo for a boy." Y/n nodded and urged him to continue. Listening to him talk about their future made her ecstatic. "Estella isn't a constellation but it means 'star.' Phoenix is another constellation that sounds pretty." He listed off a few more before stopping. "I don't want it to all be about my family though, do you have any thoughts?" He asked her.

Y/n smiled at the caring boy before answering. "Ophelia. It's not a star but it's a moon of Uranus." She replied.

"Have you done some research, sweet girl?" He asked, making her blush bright red.

"Yes." She sheepishly admitted. "I've known I've wanted this for a while."

Draco beamed at her confession. "You're so perfect." He told her before leaning down to touch their lips together.

She pulled away before continuing to talk. "Venus is nice, again it's a planet but it's also a God. I like Ascella, it's the brightest star in Saggitarius." Draco started giggling causing Y/n to frown. "What?" She insisted.

"With all these ideas we're going to have to have, like, 7 kids." He explained.

"8." Y/n corrected him.

Draco playfully scoffed at her. "I'm not the one who has to actually have them." He reminded her.

"True, but you are the one who's going to have to be up with them at night." Y/n reminded him, causing both of them to burst into a fit of giggles. "And get me whatever I'm craving, muggle or not." She added.

Draco pretended to think about it before nodding. "Deal." He held out his hand for her to shake.

She shook it before putting her lips back on his. Draco deepened the kiss quickly.

"Wanna get some practice in now?" Y/n asked as she swung her leg over his waist.

Instead of his usual eagerness, Draco shook his head. When she frowned he explained. "I've got to at least ask you to marry me first."

Y/n grinned, widely, only inches from his lips. How someone could be so kind and handsome was beyond her. "I'd say yes if you asked right now." She told him.

"Not going to do it out here when you're trying to seduce me." He teased lovingly.

She scoffed and hopped off his lap, standing up. "Fine, I'm going back to your bedroom, alone." She grinned at him, knowing it would quickly get him excited up.

Y/n was right, Draco got up off the grass and pulled her into him. She wiggled out of his grip and started running back to the manor. Draco let her get a few seconds headstart before running after her.

"I'm going to get you!" He yelled as he reached the patio door, now only a few steps behind her. She just laughed back at him as she ran upstairs while he locked the door.

Once he reached her room she was nowhere to be found. "Y/n, I know you're in here." He sang as he walked around the room.

The bulge in the curtains went unnoticed until she jumped out at him, wrapping her legs around his waist. Effortlessly he spun around the room with her latched onto him.

"Hi." She murmured, only a few centimetres away from his lips.

"Hey, pretty girl," Draco replied. "Ready for that practice now?" He asked her.

As soon as she nodded he let her fall onto the bed before resuming his position on top of her. As he ran a finger through her hair he couldn't help but smile. "You're so beautiful."

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cherrykindness · 3 years

Text

one spoon for two |

first of all, i can't make my first post in english without thanking those who helped and encouraged me to make this decision. thank you for everything @waitimcomingtoo, @harryhoney-bee and @parkers-gal 🧡

summary: you and peter share spoons and sweatshirts and are “secretly” in love with each other.

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

warning: hi! english (obviously) is not my first language, so I ask for patience, im still learning <3

"Good morning." You said with a enviable morning good humor as soon as you arrived at the complex's kitchen, receiving distracted nods and murmurs from Bucky, Sam, and Natasha. Peter, on the other hand, received your greeting with equal enthusiasm.

"Good morning, Y/N." He replied anxiously, straightening the posture and removing his feet from the chair beside. "Do you want to sit here?" He asked quick and shyly, pretending not to notice Bucky and Sam narrowing their eyes across the table. "I-I mean, it's empty, but you don't have to if you don't want to."

You nodded, accepting the offer before sitting down next to the boy you used to call best friend, frowning as you noticed that your yogurt with granola was already prepared next to a spoon and a glass of milk.

"Did you do that?"

Peter agreed, feeling a warmth rise from his neck to his cheeks.

"Yes, I figured you would be tired after last night."

That answer was enough to capture the attention of the entire kitchen. Steve, who was walking through the door with an empty mug in hand, stopped as soon as he heard the phrase leave Peter's lips, widening his eyes as he struggled not to let the ceramic object hit the floor.

"What?" Bucky asked in astonishment, blinking rapidly as he looked away between you and Peter. "What did you guys do last night?"

You and Peter looked at each other in confusion, but before you could respond, Natasha pointed to your clothes.

"Is that Peter's sweatshirt?"

Steve's pressure seemed to have dropped at this very moment. With trembling hands and flushed cheeks, the soldier sat down on one of the chairs, hiding his face amidst inaudible murmurs.

"Tony already knows this?" Sam asked with his mouth full of cereal, looking at you both with disapproval.

"What should I know?"

Peter swallowed hard when he heard your father's voice, dreading the mischievous smile that grew on Bucky's face.

"That me and Pete spent the whole night watching Star Wars." You were quick to respond, causing Peter to let out a relieved sigh.

"So that's what the kids call it these days?" Steve whispered, looking more shocked by the minute. Natasha patted her friend on the back, offering consolation.

"The Spider-Baby said he made Y/N very tired last night." Bucky, playing the part of the devil on Peter's shoulder, repeated the sentence with slight alteration.

"I didn't say that." The boy with bright curls said in horror, shaking his head frantically as his face turned as red as fresh strawberries. "It wasn't like that, Mr. Stark."

"So explain it to me." Tony demanded with a serious face, crossing his arms over his chest.

The boy became an clumsy mess in a matter of seconds. Bucky, Sam and Natasha holding their own giggling as the comic moment unfolded.

"You don't have to say anything, Pete." You reassured him, understanding your father's intentions. "Let's get away from those perverts. We still have a lot to enjoy this weekend."

You stood up with Peter at your heels, leaving the kitchen under the watchful eyes of the Avengers. Everyone, except Steve, burst out laughing as soon as Tony made sure that you were no longer around, Sam having to wipe away a few tears that had escaped from the corner of his eyes.

"What?" Steve asked confused, staring at the others strangely. "What did I miss?"

"They are so oblivious." Natasha said with a smile, shaking her head negatively.

"It's kind of cute." Tony admitted, shaking his shoulders. "The boy is unable to make a move, however."

"What?" Steve voiced it for the third time in less than three minutes. "They-they- you know; Aren't you angry? Isn't that a move for you?"

"They did nothing, cap." Tony stated between a sigh. "They spent the night watching Star Wars just as Y/N said, believe me."

"But is painfully obvious the Spider-Boy is upside down for her." Sam stated, earning a nod from Tony, Bucky and Natasha. "He was already here when me and Bucky showed up in the morning. He was sitting at the table and Y/N's breakfast was also already prepared. I was about to sit next to him– and it was the first time I ever considered sitting next to that child, I swear, when he simply put his feet up on the empty chair, saying that he had severe cramps and needed space. When Y/N appeared at the door all smiling and wearing his college sweatshirt, puft, it seems that the boy went out of his mind, and the first thing he did was to offer the seat next to him."

"There was one day that Y/N needed to help Bruce in the lab and was without access to her cell phone for most of the day. Peter and I were working together on his suit, but the boy was picking up the cell phone every two minutes. He sent a message at 04:30 and Y/N didn't answer until at 08:47, so guess what? Peter answered at 08:48." Said Tony.

"The boy was whipped." Bucky uttered between a sip of coffee.

"He and Y/N were sharing a pot of strawberry ice cream during the last movie session." It was Natasha's turn to share a moment between you and Peter, attracting the attention of the men accompanying her, "but there was only one spoon for both."

There was a suggestive exchange of glances between her, Stark, Barnes and Wilson, broken by Rogers' timid and cautious voice.

"So the kids didn't do anything indecent?"

"Oh, for God's sake!" Tony rolled his eyes, leaving the room.

–

It was almost seven in the evening when Peter came into the kitchen again, now with a green mask on his face and a Hello Kitty's patch over his nose.

"What the fuck?" Bucky asked skeptically, almost spitting out the sandwich that was in his mouth.

"Y/N and I are going skin care tonight." Peter replied simply, going over to the refrigerator as everyone watched him intently.

"And what is that on your face?" Natasha asked the question everyone wanted while Peter grabbed a pot of ice cream from the freezer.

"Avocado mask. She saw in TikTok that it is good for the pores."

"So that was the fate of the avocado I bought to eat in the morning." Steve said regretfully. "It's okay, I can buy another one tomorrow."

"I have many questions, but I don't think any answer will answer them." Sam do a grimace before turning to the food laid out on the table.

"Peter, you should ask Y/N out on a date." Thor gave his opinion. "That's what you Midgardians call, right?"

Peter choked with the air as he heard the Thunder God's phrase, almost letting the pot of ice cream slide down the sink.

"W-we go to dates almost every day." He refuted with red face. "Tomorrow we will go to the supermarket. We can buy another avocado for you, Steve."

"But this is not the kind of date we are talking abo–" Natasha tried to explain, but Peter was already leaving the kitchen practically running.

"Bye, Y/N is waiting me to put cucumbers over the eyes."

"You got only one spoon!" The redhead screamed.

"It's enough!"

The Avengers present exchanged a look of recognition before Thor broke the silence, repeating the question Sam had asked that same morning:

"Tony already knows this?"

Everyone shook their shoulders simultaneously, Bruce being the only one to speak up verbally when silence filled the room.

"I'm sure he's already pulling some strings."

–

"Please, Tony, don't tell me that you are hiding to spying Peter and Y/N."

Tony peeked a bit between the leaves as he heard Pepper's harsh voice, putting the binoculars in the back pocket of his pants as covertly as possible.

"Spying?" He laughed exaggeratedly loudly. "Of course not, dear. This is absurd."

The woman eyed him suspiciously, reaching into her husband's pocket as soon as he hugged her.

"So can you start explaining to me the binoculars, the camouflage clothing, and the presence of a giant plant that was not in the hallway before?"

Tony walked away defeated, lowering his eyes at the judgmental look he was receiving.

"The word "spying" is too strong, okay? Let's say I was watching them without them knowing."

Pepper rolled her eyes.

"They are already adults, Tony. You should let them make their own decisions, and it is pretty obvious that they like each other. I know that the idea of Peter and Y/N dating may be strange to you, but–"

"Strange?" He almost shouted, lowering his voice when he noticed that the music that used to come from your room had stopped, now putting his camouflage skills at risk. "Baby, I love you, but you are crazy." He whispered. "Peter is the only boy who deserves to be with someone like Y/N, and all I have been doing for the past seven months is trying to get them to confess the feelings that everyone knows exist, but they seem too blind to see. So far I remain with the verdict that the boy is right for her and I hope don't change my mind anytime soon. They are my OTP."

"OTP?" Pepper asked confused by the slang.

"One True Pairing. Honey, you are so out of date."

"All right, I'm leaving."

Tony arched an eyebrow as he watched his wife walk away and take the binoculars, shrugging his shoulders before hiding behind the leaves again. He spent almost two hours there, but nothing interesting had happened, just you and Peter going back and forth from the kitchen with greasy foods and ice cream, a spoon for two as you shared whatever it was in the aisles, sometimes even taking it into each other's mouths, making Tony look away from those nauseatingly sweet scenes.

He had a story appointment with Morgan and his presence in the little girl's room at nine was a must. The plan affectionately called "Project Starker" had failed that day, and Tony had to accept defeat as he went to your room, expecting to find you and Peter sprawled out on the bed while some nerdy movie was playing on TV.

"Y/N? Peter?"

The room was dark, lit only by adjacent lights coming through the window. Tony stumbled over a few objects along the way, walking blindly through the furniture until he was near your bed.

"Can you even see each other here? God, how–"

Tony had to interrupt the sentence, surprised to see you and Peter snuggled up to each other, sleeping peacefully while a current series he didn't know the name of played on the TV at an almost inaudible volume. He shook his head in denial, holding back a smile before nudging Peter's waist, forging an angry timbre:

"Kid, you have a room here for a reason. What are you doing in my daughter's bed?"

Peter blinked a few times, completely lost and surprised by Tony's presence.

"Mr. Stark?" He asked stunned, trying to see Tony through the shadows. "Why are you here?"

Your father raised one of his eyebrows, aghast at the sudden boldness of the teenager before remembering the younger man's sleepwalking habits. Peter probably thought he was dreaming or some shit.

"Why are you here?" Tony returned the question, crossing his arms.

"Because I'm in love with Y/N and I want to sleep next to her."

Tony opened his mouth like a goldfish, cursing himself mentally for not recording that statement, shaking Peter's body when he started to close his eyes again.

"Aren't you going to your room?"

Peter mumbled something indecipherable, tightening his arms around your body as you continued to sleep heavily on his chest.

"No, thanks for the offer."

Tony nodded to nothing, deciding to just close your curtain and ask to Friday to turn off the TV.

"Thank you for doing Y/N too, Mr. Stark. I appreciate that."

Tony laughed softly, promising himself that he would tease the boy about it the next morning, “Go to sleep, kid. I'm sure no one will leave you alone tomorrow after I tell what you said."

Stark was about to leave when he noticed Peter's feet sticking out of the covers. The night was cold, and there was nothing but a thin comforter protecting the two of you.

"Just one blanket?" He asked.

"Yes." Peter kind of whispered, pulling you closer. "It's enough."

This time Tony didn't hold back his smile, shaking his head before closing the door, leaving you and Peter in that little bubble of teenage passion.

"Point for you, Spider-Boy."

#imagine peter parker #peter x reader #peter parker imagine #avengers imagine #stark reader #tom x reader #imagine tom holland #tom holland x reader

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hintofelation99 · 3 years

Note

Can you describe the batfam by the type of movies or series they like to watch? Also what are the other's reaction whenever they watch it together?

Hell yeah! Tbh I feel like movie nights would be some of the most frustrating nights in Wayne manor, just cause everyone is hella opinionated. Like they take turns letting each other choose movies but even then they fight for at least an hour over what was chosen. But here's what each member typically chooses when it's their turn. Also I briefly mention their reactions in here but I'll probs do a Batfam Movie Night dialogue, fic, series, thingy (??? Idk what to call those things) and I'll link it back to this ask when I do. Link.

Dick:

Genres— Musicals, Rom Coms, Spy Movies

Favorite Movies— Mamma Mia, Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again, The Greatest Showman, Notting Hill, Pretty Woman, A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Kingsman

Basically Dick is guaranteed to pick a musical or a rom com. He loves things that are big and dramatic and beautiful, but also a bit cheesey and silly. Like him.

Everyone groans when Dick chooses the movie because they know it will be a bit cheesey or the stereotypical "Chick Flick". That being said usually what he picks is genuinely good (Mamma Mia and Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again are both masterpieces) and they leave everyone laughing or feeling happy.

Dick does also love classic foreign films (mostly European) because they remind him of movies his parents would sometimes take him to see, this wasn't super common but occasionally the Graysons would find a local theater showing classics.

He used to love the Kingsman movies but stopped liking them after everything that happened with Spyral.

Babs:

Genres— Sci-Fi, Comedy, Rom Coms

Favorite Movies— A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Martian, Star Wars, Star Trek, When Harry Met Sally

Babs is a complete nerd and loves all of the Star Wars and Star Trek movies. She'll occasionally watch Lord of the Rings with Tim but she definitely prefers the nerdy Sci-Fi movies.

She only started liking Rom Coms after dating Dick, he loves them so much that it was pretty difficult for her to not start liking them as well.

When watching one of her favs Babs will be mouthing along the entire time. She also has a lot of cool memorabilia from her favorite franchises.

Jason:

Genres— Classics, Dramas

Favorite Movies— Twelve Angry Men, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, To Kill a Mockingbird

Jason isn't too big on movies. And surprisingly he's not usually super opinionated about movies, he can be pretty opinionated on which movie the family will watch. This is less because he's trying to be combative and more because he's sick of watching his siblings favorite movies, he feels like hes seen them all a million times.

Typically Jason isn't a huge fan of movie adaptations or remakes. They don't bother him and he doesn't care when a new one's released but he's not going to watch it.

Sometimes Jason will accidentally fall asleep during family movie night, these are one of the few nights where he 'cuddles' and honestly it's less cuddling and more 'oops I feel asleep and ended up on someone's shoulder or lap. Whether or not he falls asleep depends on if he's fighting with Bruce or not. If he and Bruce are fighting Jason won't feel comfortable enough to fall asleep (he might even skip movie night), but if they're on good terms he might doze off.

Cass:

Genres— Fantasy, Comedy, Sci-Fi, Horror

Favorite Movies— The Big Sick, The Thing, A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Tangled

Cass mainly knows about movies from her movie nights with Tim, Babs, and Steph, so her tastes have developed based on theirs.

She and Tim frequently watch old B Horror movies together, every once in a while one will quietly sing "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" to the other and they immediately burst out laughing. This is most commonly done at galas.

Tim bought her a sweatshirt with a "horror movie periodic table" on it and she wears it almost constantly.

Tim:

Genres— Fantasy, Classic Horror

Favorite Movies— Lord of the Rings, The Exorcist, The Thing, Stardust

Tim absolutely adores fantasy movies, he's a huge nerd and definitely uses fantasy movies to help him plan his next DnD campaign.

While Tim adores fantasy movies he's more likely to watch movies from his second favorite genre— Classic Horror.

Him, Cass, Steph, and Babs love having movie nights together because they're all major nerds and tend to like a lot of the same movies.

Steph:

Genres— Comedy, Anything Cass recommends

Favorites— Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Big Sick, Palm Springs

Steph is much more outspoken than Tim, Babs, or Jason. This is part of the reason why she is one of the more polarizing siblings on movie night. If she doesn't want to watch something she will let you know.

She can making picking a movie difficult, but every other aspect of movie night is improved by Steph. She gets fun snacks, fuzzy blankets, cool sodas, and she even made them all shirts when they did a Lord of the Rings marathon.

When watching a movie Steph will quietly mimic lines or noises that she likes. She never notices but she does it during every movie. Like during Monty Python she'll whisper 'clip clop, clip clop' when they bang the coconuts together.

Duke:

Genres— Documentary, Mockumentary

Favorites— Darkest Knight: The Truth Behind Gotham's Hero, The Keene Act, America's Most Dangerous City: Gotham, What We Do in the Shadows

Duke loves watching documentaries on Batman just to see how off they are. No one argues when he suggests them for movie nights.

One time he, Jason, and Tim made a 'documentary' about Batman. It looks completely serious to anyone who doesn't know Batman's secret identity.

After making the Batman documentary he decided to make some more on random Gotham villians. He's made about six and all look completely serious to anyone who doesn't know the villian.

In his documentary titled "Riddle Me This" he said that the Riddler gained riddle themed powers after a tragic accident at a riddle book factory. Edward did not appreciate this.

Damian:

Genres— Action, Survival, Documentary

Favorites— John Wick, Riddle Me This, The Keene Act, Jungle, High School Musical

Damian is the absolute worst to watch action movies with, he spends the entire time ripping the movie apart and mocking anything that is even remotely unrealistic.

He and Duke will often talk about their favorite documentaries, he's even started helping Duke make documentaries. Right now they're working on one about the League of Assassins, Tim watched the first cut and almost pissed himself from laughing so hard.

Jon showed him High School Musical and Damian pretended to hate it but secretly he doesn't mind it. Obviously Jon knows this so he showed Damian the entire series, and now it's sort of become their thing.

Bruce:

Genres— Whatever the fuck his kids agree on

Favorites— Please for the love of god let his kids pick a movie

Bruce is tired and just wants to watch a goddamn movie

As always these are all headcannons and have little to no cannonical support. Also all of Dukes movies (except the last one) are documentaries I imagine would exist in the DC universe.

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

the evolution of breaking up

Peter x Stark!reader

Summary: Snippets of you moving on from a bad breakup, frequently turning to your best friend, Peter.

Warnings: it's sad Taylor Swift hours, some choice words,

Word Count: 3252

a/n: inspired by a playlist called the evolution of breaking up that only has TS songs on it lol. Bold is direct or paraphrased lyrics

Masterlist

Peter is 90% sure he fell in love with you the day he met you.

He's 100% sure he fell in love with you within a week of knowing you.

Hell, he's so sure about it, he would tell you if not for one glaringly obvious problem: Jared.

Your boyfriend.

Your started dating Jared a few weeks before you met Peter. That is to say, a few weeks before Tony recruited Peter to join the Avengers.

Peter didn't have any problems with Jared, and he would never wish for you to get your heart broken, but he was definitely jealous.

It wasn't hard for him to love you. The two of you became fast friends. You always worked in the lab together, improving upon tech Tony already had or developing all new creations.

You also patrolled together. Peter had always enjoyed patrolling, but now that you went with him, time seemed to fly.

It was currently about 10:30 on a Friday about two and a half years after you and Peter met. You and Peter were supposed to patrol, but Tony said to take the night off for once.

You took the impromptu free time as the perfect opportunity to surprise Jared.

You left the tower around 5:30 and Peter hasn't heard from you since. Not that he expected to since you were going on a date. He was bored though.

Tony refused to let him tinker around in the lab, saying he needed a better work/life balance. He would've found the statement funny if it didn't feel so true.

He tried calling Ned, but he was out with Betty. MJ was busy with Brad, the two going to some horror movie marathon.

The only other person he really hung out with was you, and you were also on a date.

He wondered the various floors of the tower, looking for anything to do that would take his mind of you.

Eventually, he just set up camp in the shared living area, putting Star Wars on the massive TV and eating more popcorn than should be legal.

He was nearly asleep during Episode V when the ding of the elevator jolted him awake. Someone ran through the halls, quickly opening and closing the door to their room.

He sat up, intrigued by the behavior. As he walked down the hallway, he listened for any indication of someone else being there. Obviously whoever it was didn't want to talk, but that didn't mean he wasn't concerned.

He stopped outside your door, bringing his hand up to knock when he heard music softly playing through the door.

You told me you loved me, so why did you go away?

He froze with his fist raised, uneasy with the why you would put on such a sad song. His hand fell back to his side when he heard you sing along to the chorus.

"Never thought we'd have a last kiss. Never imagined we'd end like this."

The sound of you crying grew louder than the music, urging Peter to knock. He just wanted to make sure you knew he was there for you.

Hyping himself up, he knocked lightly. A few seconds later the music stopped. He listened as you shuffled toward the door, slowly pulling it open.

His heart broke at the sight of your puffy cheeks, red and tear stained.

"Hey Pete." You managed a small smile, happy to see your friend despite the less than stellar evening you had.

"Hey, I... you probably don't want to talk about it right now, but I'm here for when you do." He matched your small smile, trying not to make you feel any worse.

Apparently, he said the right thing because you pulled him into a bone crushing hug, burying your head in his chest as you cried.

He spent the next half hour rubbing your back as you cried, having moved to sit on the bed rather than stand in the doorway.

When your tears ended, he risked talking to you again.

"Did you want to talk about it tonight?" Peter was clearly unsure of himself in this situation.

You shook your head, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

"No, I... He just..." Tears pooled again, but you blinked them away. "He said forever and always, but I guess he didn't mean it."

Peter held you as you cried again, eventually falling asleep. He tucked you into your bed, placing a water bottle on your nightstand and shutting off the lights as he left.

The next few days, you spent mostly holed up in your room. You had a playlist of sad Taylor Swift songs on repeat, letting yourself wallow.

Peter was worried. Tony was worried. Nat, Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Pepper, and Vision were worried.

"What'd she say when you talked to her?" The group questioned, all wanting nothing more than to cheer you up.

Peter sighed, wishing he had more information. "She just cried for like, 2 hours. Somewhere in the middle I asked if she wanted to talk, she said something about him not really meaning forever, and then she cried again."

They were all contemplating what to do when you walked in the room. Every pair of eyes were on you in an instant.

You sighed heavily, kind of glad you could address everyone at once. They've been like a family to you since you were born, so it only makes sense they would all be worried.

"Jared and I broke up." You felt like it was 2 and a half years wasted. You could feel the tightness in your throat threatening more tears, but you refused to cry over this boy any longer. "I'll be okay, I just... I remember it all too well right now."

You turned to your dad, eyes welling up again. "I'm sorry I ignored when you said to run as fast as I can from all the boys I ever met." You chuckled, trying to relieve the tension.

Tony pulled you into a tight hug. "You'll be okay again, princess." You nodded, leaning into the hug. Everyone ended up piling on, offering you words of comfort through the group hug.

A couple weeks later, and you honestly felt better. Not all the way, but enough to want to go out with friends again. You went roller skating with Peter, MJ, and Ned.

It was the next logical step, going out with friends. It made sense. It was working.

Until you saw him. Jared was there with some other girl, skating without a care in the world. Of course, he saw you. He had the audacity to smile and wave, as if he didn't just break your heart.

When he walked up to you, you knew you had enough.

"Don't you smile at me and ask me how I've been. Don't you say you've missed me if you don't want me again." You spit the words at him, trying to hide how much it hurt. You turned away from him, nearly running from the rink before you even put the skates on.

You friends followed you out, profusely denying the need for your abundant apologies.

Ned and MJ hugged you before leaving, figuring less people would be better for you. Peter took you back to the tower, trying to help soothe the lingering ache.

"I just don't understand." You whispered from the passenger side of the car. "Why would he want to break a perfectly good heart?"

Peter struggled to come up with an answer, knowing nothing he said would really fix it.

"You'll find someone else. Someone who won't break your heart." He settled on a vague nod toward the future, knowing anything else could lead to him potentially ruining your friendship.

Unbeknownst to Peter, his words broke your heart just a little more. You always had a soft spot for Peter, and the few weeks you've been broken up from Jared have made you see him in a new light.

Of course, you wouldn't make a move though. Not yet. You didn't want him to think he was just a rebound. He's your best friend. It's too important to mess up with feelings.

You woke up the next morning with a slew of messages from Jared.

This is me swallowing my pride... telling you I'm sorry for that night.

I go back to December all the time.

It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you.

I'm wishing I realized what I had when you were mine.

You deleted them immediately, not wanting to fall back into his trap. Ultimately though, you decided to respond. You wanted to lay it all out that he missed his chance. You were over him, even if it still hurt.

I've lived, and I've learned. Had you, got burned. I'm over it, Jared. Leave me alone.

Then you deleted his contact and blocked the number. He couldn't just say those hurtful things to you and then pretend like it was a mistake. He meant every word he said that night, even if he doesn't believe it now.

Another week went by without incident. You were all smiles all the time, really moving on from him and the pain he put you through.

Then you got a letter. It looked like a card, so you figured it was an early Valentine's card.

Opening it up proved it to be just that.

The inside read:

"I don't wanna miss you like this. I don't wanna need you this way. Come back. Be here."

Signed from Jared with hearts.

Of course you chose to open the card as soon as you got it, with everyone watching.

Your expression fell as the words sank in, knowing he was still trying did weird things to your heart. It made you question everything. Did he really care about you? Was he just bored?

You stared at the card for what felt like an eternity before ripping it up and rolling your eyes.

Of course he doesn't care. Nobody who says to your face that they never loved you cares.

"What was that?" Wanda asked, curious about the mixture of emotions present on your face.

"A load of utter horse shit." You huffed a laugh as you threw away the pieces.

"Language!" Tony called, always taking the opportunity to tease Steve.

"Well it was!" You defended, eager to move on from the conversation. They all stared at you expectantly, clearly waiting for an explanation. "It was from Jared." You were glad Peter was sitting next to you. Just the mention of his name had him rubbing your back, trying to make it easier for you.

"You know, now that I'm sitting here thinking it through. I've never been anywhere cold as him."

You felt another group hug coming on, so you quickly excused yourself to shower, reassuring everyone that you were fine.

You were laying on the floor, feet up against the wall, just staring at the ceiling when Bucky and Peter walked into the gym to train with you.

"Hey, Y/N." Bucky called, a questioning look in his eyes.

"What's going on in your head?" Peter added, spelling out the question for you.

"I knew he was trouble when I met him." You answered him honestly. "And yet, I still said yes when he asked me out." You shook your head, still staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, hindsight is 20/20. Don't beat yourself up about it." Bucky chimed in, knowing how it feels to blame yourself for things that weren't your fault.

"Are you offering then?" You stood up, accepting Peter's hand to aid you. You brushed any lingering dirt from your clothes, laughing at Bucky's confused expression. "For me to beat you up instead?"

The three of you had a good laugh before you got to work training.

Three months post breakup and you're feeling great. At least, you're feeling great most of the time.

"Hey Y/N! What are you doing tonight?" Peter questioned as he walked up beside you in the lab, pulling out the tools he'll need.

"I don't know, nothing specific I guess." You try to remember any plans you had, but nothing comes to mind.

"Perfect. MJ, Ned, and I are going to go roller skating again. I thought maybe you'd wanna come?" He's clearly nervous, unsure if this would help or hinder your progress.

You nod your head, thinking it over. "You know what, I'm in." The determination in your voice catches Peter off guard.

"Cool, um, great. I guess you're doing better then?" He's still nervous, but eager to finally get you to fully open up to someone about everything.

"Yep. Anytime I get sad, I think of something shitty he did to remind me I'm better off." You smile, knowing he was going to ask for examples.

"Really? Like what?" You can't help but laugh lightly, enjoying how well you know Peter.

"Some vague things, like how he would look at me when he was annoyed. Like those eyes add insult to injury, you know?" He nods, but doesn't really understand.

"Or more specific examples, like that birthday party where you all kept asking me about him, and I made excuses, but truth is he just blew me off. That one honestly should've been the moment I knew."

"He did what?" Peter was livid, but trying to contain the rage to that of a concerned friend rather than jealous crush.

"Eh, I'm over it. It's pretty easy to focus on the bad aspects of the relationship when it ended so badly." You shrug, turning back to the circuit board you were working on.

"How, um, how exactly did it end?" He wondered aloud, knowing you hadn't fully told anyone yet. He watched as you tensed slightly before shaking it off.

"That's a story for another time Pete." You managed a tight smile, not wanting to delve into that conversation just yet.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." You mumbled under your breath.

You had been skating with Peter, Ned, and MJ for about an hour when he walked in.

Peter followed your line of sight, trying to understand your mumbling. When his eyes caught sight of Jared, he panicked.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry! I really thought this would help you this time." He rubbed his hands down his face, silently cursing himself for putting you in this position again.

"Don't worry about it Pete. I'm more prepared to handle it this time around." You laughed, watching out of the corner of your eye as Jared approached you.

"Y/N... I, uh, I've been trying to talk to you." He started boldy, not really caring that you weren't even looking at him.

You did your best to ignore him, but he grabbed your arm to stop you from skating away.

"Y/N, come on-"

"No." You spit at him, not letting him get under your skin. "People like you always want back the love they pushed aside, but people like me are gone forever when you say goodbye."

You yanked your arm out of his hand, turning back to your friends. "Let's keep skating. I have no reason to run away."

Peter watched, bewildered as you confidently skated across the rink.

The morning of what would be your three year anniversary with Jared felt weird. You weren't upset anymore, but the lingering nostalgia of celebrating an anniversary clung to you.

You deleted the email reminding you of the plans you were supposed to have that evening.

You sighed heavily as you walked into the kitchen, still trying to clear your head.

"You good?" Peter questioned, easily spotting that something was off.

"Yeah, it's just... I don't miss him. At all. I'm over it, but today would've been our anniversary..."

Peter nodded, trying to understand what you were feeling.

"It's strange to think the songs we used to sing, the smiles, the flowers, everything... is gone." You told him the truth, trying not to hide your feelings.

Maybe you should be over it by now, but you spent the majority of your high school career with that guy. It sucks to think it was all a waste.

He pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back to comfort you.

"I mean, not to state the obvious, but I didn't get my perfect fantasy with Jared." You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"You'll find your perfect someone." He smiled, unaware of the fluttering in your stomach telling you that maybe you already had.

"Yeah, someone who won't say to my face that he never really loved me." You muttered, feeling the rage burn inside you again.

"He's an ass." You hugged him tighter, enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms.

Peter slowed as he walked past your door, listening as the songs changed. He recognized the intro as a song from folklore, but he wasn't sure exactly which one.

"I'm doing good. I'm on some new shit." You sang loudly unaware of listening ears outside the door.

Peter smiled, walking away so as not to interrupt your healing process again.

Meanwhile, you floated around your room, nearly screaming the along to the breakup songs as you finally rid yourself of any lingering items relating to Jared.

"But it's wonderful to see that it never phased you!" You grinned as you threw it all away, ready to fully move on.

When the elevator doors opened, Peter was assaulted with the blaring sounds of none other than Taylor Swift.

Apparently, you moved your dance party from your room to the living room, thinking you had the space to yourself for a little while.

He watched as you danced around the room, singing and smiling to your heart's content.

"So he calls me up, and he's like 'I still love you' and I'm like, "I'm just, this is exhausting you know, like..." You caught Peter's smile out of the corner of your eye, fully turning to look at him as you belted out the next line. "We are never getting back together. Like ever. Noooo."

You grab his hands, forcing him to dance and twirl around with you as the song comes to an end.

"I take it your really feeling better." Peter smiles, overjoyed to see you looking so exuberant.

"I am." You nod, keeping it simple.

"No more thoughts about Jared?" He questioned, smiling when you didn't even flinch at his name.

"Nope. I forgot that he existed." You smiled cheekily, still dancing although you turned the music down.

"That's good, then." Peter smiled, suddenly nervous. If you truly had moved on, maybe now was his chance.

"Hey Pete?" You questioned, smiling shyly.

"Yeah?" He stood in front of you, unsure of where this was going.

"I realized something this morning." You whispered, nervous for his response, but dying to tell him the truth.

"Yeah?" He waited, eager to know what you were hiding.

You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back, watching as he slowly grinned.

"Why'd you do that?" He asked, stunned but grinning like an idiot.

"'Cause, I like you," you smiled, but quickly added 'but I know that it's delicate."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that." He stated, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"No?" You leaned into his touch, feeling like you were on cloud nine.

"Nope. Cause I like you too."

He pulled you in for a deeper kiss, celebrating the beginning of this new stage of your relationship.

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #marvel #maarvel fic #mcu #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #avengers x reader #peter parker x Stark!reader

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flyingstar360 · 4 years

Text

What You’ll Gain

Julie wakes up missing her mom. And Luke does not do well with crying girls. But he knows who does.

When someone you love passes away, there’s a horrible kind of pain that happens somedays. In the morning, you wake up, and in that second before you open your eyes, you can half hear them. Faintly, distantly, the sound they used to make echo in the space between sleep and waking. Breathing in bed next to you. Laughing in the kitchen. Talking in the living room.

Just before Julie opened her eyes, her mom was in the studio, singing.

Julie could hear her. Muffled through the walls of the house, the soft rise and fall of a song Julie couldn’t quite make out. And Julie snuggled into her pillow, stretching, smiling, knowing that when she opened her eyes, she could go down and join her mom. And they’d sit and write for a bit before Julie had to go to school, and maybe her mom would drive her and-

By then, Julie opened her eyes, and the music was gone again. She could hear Carlos and her dad in the kitchen, but no music from the studio. She closed her eyes tight, trying to bring it back, but instead a few tears dripped out onto her pillow.

Once the silence settles in, it sinks into your stomach. The pain radiates from your chest down, and everything hurts. Sometimes, a few deep breaths settle it. Other days, it stays. An ache that nothing can help. Just emptiness and echoing silence.

Julie burrowed deeper under her blankets, trying and failing not to cry more. She huddled there, still wrapped in a blanket cocoon when her dad knocked on the door.

“Mija?” Ray stuck his head in Julie’s room and saw her still in bed. “Oh, Julie.” He treaded carefully to her, slowly sinking down next to her bed so he could see her face. He brushed some of the curls out of her red eyes.

“I don’t feel good, Papi.” Julie said, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, can I- Can I stay home?” Her voice trembled and his heart broke. He knew Dr. Turner had told him that there’d be bad days, and it was important to acknowledge the kids’ grief, but also the importance of normal routines. Letting Julie stay home would be a setback in Dr. Turner’s eyes, but she was doing so much better. Julie had just played The Orpheum less than two weeks ago, just a few weeks after not having touched a piano or sung a note for almost a year.

“I don’t know Mija,” He sighed. “You have no fever and Dr. Turner says….” Julie squeezed her eyes closed even tighter, her lip trembling, as she gave a tiny nod and tried to take a shaky breath. Ray stopped, took a deep breath himself. Dr. Turner was great with Julie and Carlos, but Dr. Turner wasn’t here. Not seeing the girl Ray’d been so proud of up on that stage again with her hologram band, singing her heart out, now trembling in her bed. “Do you want me to stay home with you?”

Julie looked up at him in surprise as her father stroked her hair away from her face. “Really?” She whispered, her voice cracking. He nodded. She tried to smile shakily. “No, I’ll be okay, I just… I can’t go today.”

“Just do me a favor- don’t stay in here all day. Try and shower and eat something, okay? Maybe study a bit since I’m not making you go to school. And do not tell your aunt.” Ray smiled as Julie let out a damp choking giggle. He held out his finger for her, and she reached out and locked her finger in his. He kissed her forehead and pulled the covers back around her shoulders before leaving the room. Julie closed her eyes again, but only heard the sound of her brother complaining about how unfair it was that Julie got to skip school as her father pushed him out the door. She laid there and she missed her mom.

Out in the studio, Reggie was standing by the door, looking out of the windows. “Guys? Hey guys? Ray and Carlos just left, and Julie wasn’t with them.”

Alex looked up from the couch where he’d been laying, staring at the ceiling, and fiddling with his drumsticks while Luke was working on some new material for the band. “She hasn’t been here yet this morning either. She normally stops in to at least say hi before school.”

Reggie chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you think she’s sick?”

“We could go check.” Luke said, shrugging. He was worried, but he was trying not to show it. Reggie and Alex exchanged a look. “It’s not like that!” Luke grumbled. “She’s our friend.”

“Mmmhmm.” Alex hummed. “Sure. Friendship is your sole motivation in this situation.”

Luke glared at his bandmate. “Oh, shut up.” He grumbled as the three ghosts poofed into the hallway outside Julie’s door.

“Julie?” Reggie knocked on the door to Julie’s room. “It’s us. Are you- are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re a little worried.” Alex chimed in, leaning against the door. He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes, sighing a little. “Can we come in?”

Luke opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Julie’s quiet voice broke the silence.

“Yeah. It’s okay. Come in.”

As the boys entered Julie’s room, they knew something was really wrong. Maybe it’s from being a ghost, but the sadness in the air was almost overwhelming. Reggie’s eyes almost immediately filled with tears.

“Julie,” he said, sitting next to the lump of blankets she was huddled in. “What’s going on?”

Alex perched on the other side of the Julie-bump and rested his hand on her back. He had become the best at focusing his energy to be able to physically interact with the world. He could take Julie’s mic from her in rehearsal, take the remote to change the show when Reggie started hate-watching the Star Wars Prequels again, and even touched Flynn’s shoulder in rehearsal the other day. She’d screamed and tripped over a chair, yelling “Air can’t touch me!” Luke was a little jealous it came so easily to Alex, but he also had to remember that Alex had Willie to teach him in the beginning. And being able to physically interact with the world would probably help Alex get Willie away from Caleb and the Hollywood Ghost Club.

Luke sat down on the ground next to Julie’s bed. He could see a tiny piece of her face peeking out. She made eye contact with him, and when he saw her red-rimmed eyes, he looked at the ground, avoiding her.

“I’m okay.” Julie lied.

“Yeah, okay.” Alex huffed, his thumb rubbing little circles on Julie’s back.

Reggie scooted closer to her. “You don’t have to pretend with us, Julie. We’re your friends.” She didn’t say anything, but Luke could tell she was crying again.

“Do you want us to go?” Luke leaned closer to the bed and asked her quietly. She shook her head. They sat with her a while longer, as she cried herself back to sleep.

As her breathing evened out, punctuated only by the occasional hiccup the boys poofed into the hallway. The three huddled together and tried to figure out what to do.

“I promised Willie we’d hang out today while Julie was at school.” Alex said. “Reggie and I were supposed to meet him at the museum.” They had decided to pair off whenever Alex and Willie hung out. That way, Luke or Reggie could keep an eye out if Caleb came around so they could try to get out before having to deal with that pyscho.

Luke nodded. “You guys go. I’ll stay here with Julie.” Alex and Reggie looked at each other, eyebrows raised as Luke waved them off. “Seriously guys, I can handle a girl crying, okay? Just go see Willie. Julie’d be upset if she found out you blew him off because she’s having a bad day.”

Luke was right, Julie would be upset. But could he actually handle a crying girl? Especially a crying girl he liked? “Okay.” Alex said. “But come get us if she needs us.”

After the others poofed out, Luke returned to his spot on the floor by Julie’s bed and thought about how much she’d lost. Which made no sense, because, I mean, Luke was dead. He’d died and left his parents on bad terms, and here was this girl who had given him a second chance and it made no sense. Why had they been brought to Julie? Frustrated, he buried his head in his hands. He didn’t notice her wake up until she whispered his name.

“Hey. How’re you feeling? Any better?” He shifted to kneel next to her, propping his elbows on her bedside.

“I just miss her, Luke. So much. Hurts to breathe.” Julie whimpered. Luke wished he could hold her. Ever since that night after the Orpheum, when he’d been able to feel her hands on his face and wrap his arms around her, Luke couldn’t get it out of his mind. Not that he’d minded the group hug with the whole band, but that moment of just the two of them- he’d finally felt alive. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but his hand passed right through again. The guys were right. He was awful at dealing with crying girls. And sitting next to Julie on her bed as she hurt, being unable to do anything to make it better- it was just as bad as eating a tainted hot dog, or watching his mom cry over his birthday cake.

And just like that Luke had an idea.

“Hey.” He whispered to Julie. “I have an idea. Maybe something that might make you feel better. If you’re up to getting out of bed?”

“I don’t think I can write, Luke, I’m sorry.” She shook her head.

“No, no.” Luke said. “Not that. Let’s go for walk. I know somewhere we can go, something we can do, that might make you feel better.” Julie nodded. She had promised her dad she’d get out of bed. And Luke did know all the best music spots in the city. It might help, she thought.

“Why are we at your parents’ house, Luke?” Julie asked, fiddling with the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt as they stood at the end of his driveway. Dark clouds had rolled in, and thunder was rumbling in the distance. “Did you need to tell them something else? And can’t it wait until later?”

Luke turned so he was standing right in front of her. He reached for her hand, but hesitated. Every time they couldn’t touch again broke his heart a little, and he already felt a little like it was breaking watching her in pain.

“Look.” He said, shoving his hands back into his pockets and shifting his weight from side to side. “I’m not good at this. At comforting people. It’s not something I was ever good at. And it kills me to not be able to know what to say. And I know about dying so...” Julie smiled a little watery smile at him, and his heart melted. He took a deep breath. “I was just thinking. You’re hurting because you miss your mom. And my mom’s hurting because she misses her kid.”

Julie looked up, surprised. “What?”

“My dad’s at work. She’s home alone right now. Crocheting or knitting or whatever. But sometimes she sits and cries too.” He turned to his childhood home and caught a glimpse of his mother in the chair in front of the window. The same place she sat when the police came to tell her he was gone. Julie stepped a little closer to him and they stood there for a minute, before Julie teared up and looked down at her hands, twisting the cuffs of her shirt.

“Luke, I-“Just then, the skies opened up, and a downpour of rain started.

“Julie?” Julie and Luke both looked up to see his mother standing on the porch, opening an umbrella. “It’s Julie, right? You brought the song Luke wrote. Honey, what are you doing out in this storm? Are you okay?”

Julie tried to nod but burst into tears. Big tears. The kind that really made Luke want to run away, but his mother came right down the path to Julie.

“What’s wrong? Is there something I can do to help?” Emily hurried down the path, and quickly tried to cover Julie under the umbrella. She wrapped her arms around Julie’s shaking shoulders

Julie shook her head, embarrassed. She tried to speak but the sobs just kept coming.

“Come sit down inside honey. It’s not safe to be out here. Come inside, have some water.” Luke nodded and gestured to get Julie to agree. She turned and let Emily lead her into the Patterson’s’ house.

“I’m sorry.” Julie managed to gasp out as Emily brought the sobbing girl into their foyer.

Emily shook her head and rubbed Julie’s back comfortingly. She’d lived through enough grief-based panic attacks to recognize one. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

As Julie tried to calm down and breathe again, Luke stood awkwardly next to the stairs in his former house. He fidgeted, unsure of what to say. But it seemed like his mom was helping Julie, so he just echoed her. “It’s fine, Julie. You’re fine. Breathe.”

After a few minutes standing with to Luke’s mother, Julie could feel the weight that had been sinking into her chest all morning start to dissolve. She took a few breaths, sighing deeply.

“Better?” Emily asked. Julie nodded. “Good. Now, you’re absolutely soaked. Why don’t I find something for you to put on and throw this in the dryer, okay? Then maybe we can have some hot chocolate and you can tell me what’s going on.” Julie peeled off her soaked sweatshirt. Luckily, her tee shirt underneath wasn’t too bad, but combined with the chill in the air, she could feel the goosebumps pricking on her arms. She rubbed them as she took a seat on the couch, while Emily ran downstairs to the laundry room. Staring at the framed photos on the mantel, Julie zoned out, exhausted. And when Emily returned, Luke was right behind her, smiling.

“My mom makes really good hot chocolate. Julie. Get ready.”

Emily set two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table and pulled out the bundle of fabric draped over her arm. Emily handed it to Julie, who recognized it instantly. An old orange flannel, well-worn and washed until it was soft. It was almost identical to the one Luke was wearing.

“This was Luke’s. He must have had a dozen, all almost identical. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them.” Emily looked fondly at it. “I’m not sure why, but it felt like the right thing. It was on top of the clean laundry pile. I’m not sure how it got there, but it felt like a sign.”

Julie smiled as she slipped her arms into it. “Yeah, those signs. Who knows where they come from?”

Luke plopped himself down on the arm of the sofa. “Yeah, who knows?”

Emily settled herself in the chair next to the sofa and grabbed one of the mugs. “What’s going on, Julie?”

Julie did the same, wrapping her hands around the mug for warmth. “My mom. She- she passed away, just about a year ago.”

“Oh, Julie, I’m so sorry.” Emily leaned forward, rested her hand on Julie’s arm comfortingly.

“I had found Luke’s song while I was going through the old things in her studio. But today I woke up and…”. Julie felt her throat close off as she tried to swallow down another round of tears.

“You woke up and forgot she was gone?” Emily guessed. Julie nodded. “I still do that all the time. I hear him, strumming away on his guitar in his room.” She stopped for a moment, choking back her own wave of grief. Julie looked over at Luke, who was looking sheepish. He refused to meet Julie’s eyes as he rubbed the back of his head, and she realized that sometimes, when she would come to the studio in the mornings and he wasn’t there, he was here. Playing for his mother. “I used to go in and scold him for making so much noise so early, but now I’d give anything to hear it again.”

Julie smiled. “He sounds like he was trouble.”

“I am not trouble.” Luke groused, pouting. Julie ignored him.

“Oh, he was.” Emily smiled sadly. “He was always making noise, always making music. From the moment he could focus his eyes, you could see the gears turning whenever he heard music.”

“My mom was the same way.”

“Something tells me you are too.” Emily smiled. The two sat in silence for a moment, sipping their hot chocolates.

“Would you tell me more about him?” Julie asked, wrapping her hands around the warm mug.

Emily smiled, got up and went to the cabinet. She opened the doors and pulled out a large photo album. Sitting down next to Julie, she opened it to a photo of baby Luke in the hospital.

“I started this when he was born. I always wished I could have shown it to the girl he brought home. I wanted to embarrass him a little.” Emily said. “Although, I think in a way, he did bring you home to meet us.”

“You have no idea.” Julie said under her breath.

“And I am absolutely embarrassed.” Luke grumbled.

Julie whispered to him as Emily handed her the book and settled in next to Julie. “No messing this up.”

“What, dear?”

Julie thought quickly. “I was just reminding myself to be careful with it. It’s important, and really nice of you to let me see it.”

Emily smiled as Julie opened the book to a picture of a tiny toddler Luke wearing cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and a diaper. Luke buried his face in his hands as Julie burst out laughing.

“This was a mistake” he groaned.

“…And then he would refuse to go to bed unless we tucked his little guitar into bed next to him!”

“Julie, I swear if you mention any of this to Reggie and Alex- Stop laughing! I was five, Julie!”

“…Standing in front of the whole church, leading his first communion class in singing a song he’d made up… I was so proud of him that day.” Emily said, as she ran a finger over the photo of Luke in his little first communion suit, standing outside their house next to her and Mitch.

“It was a terrible song.” Luke said quietly. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“My mom wrote me a song for my first communion too. She’d written others for me, but that was the first one that other people heard that she written for me.” Julie smiled at the memory. “She made my dress too. Then she started a food fight with my cake at the party. It was everywhere, my aunt got so mad. My little brother had smashed handfuls of it into her purse and she didn’t realize it until the next day.”

“Yeah, that sound like Carlos.” Luke shook his head as Emily and Julie laughed and chatted about First Communions that happened nearly twenty years apart.

Emily turned the page to a photo of Sunset Curve, playing in the Patterson’s backyard. “This was right after he started his band. They played my book club meeting.”

Julie smiled, recognizing a slightly younger version of her band and Carrie’s dad. Emily was standing to the side of the photo, blurred as she was turning away. Julie could tell there wasn’t a smile on her face. Emily noticed too. She sighed.

“We had a huge fight right after everyone left. I was worried his bandmates were a bad influence. We’d just found out that one of them, the drummer, was-“

Emily was interrupted by the window swinging open. Both she and Julie looked up startled. They’d been so engrossed in stories of Luke’s childhood, neither had noticed that the rain had stopped. It was still pretty windy, but the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds.

“I keep telling Mitch he needs to fix these latches!” Emily said as she stood to close them. Luke stepped to the side so she wouldn’t pass through him. He looked at Julie, a serious expression on his face, cheeks slightly red.

“That part’s not her story to tell.” He said quietly. Julie already had a pretty good inkling what Alex’s secret was- after all, helping hijack a tour bus isn’t something you just do for a friend. But Luke was right. Julie nodded, and checked her phone.

Almost three hours had passed, and she had six text messages she’d missed. Three were from Flynn. One from Nick. And two from her father.

Almost done with my shoot. He’d written. I’ll be home soon.

He’d sent the last one fifteen minutes ago. Which meant…

“Oh no.” Julie said, as her phone started ringing.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

“It’s my dad. I forgot to leave a note.” Julie took a deep breath and answered. “Hi, Papi. I’m okay. No, I’m at a friend’s house. A new friend, actually.” Emily smiled at her.

“I’ll go get your sweatshirt, honey. Tell him you’ll head home in a minute.” She left Julie alone in the living room.

“No, Dad, I’m okay. Yeah. I’ll leave here in just a minute. It’s not a long walk. I’ll be home soon. Okay. Okay, Love you too. Bye.”

As Emily returned, Julie started to shrug off Luke’s flannel shirt.

“Oh, no, Honey. Keep it. Something just feels right about sending it with you. Kinda like you’re keeping Luke alive, in a way.” Emily smiled as she smoothed the fabric over Julie’s shoulders. “Thank you for visiting today. I know it was a rough day for you, but you turned it into a wonderful one for me.”

Julie put her hand over Emily’s. “No, thank you. I really needed this.”

“Well, anytime you need some hot chocolate talk, you know where to find me, okay?” Emily pulled Julie into a hug. “I think we help each other.”

Julie wrapped her arms around Emily in return. Luke stood off to the side, watching Julie and his mom embrace, his heart full. Emily had her eyes closed, resting on top of Julie’s head. Julie was tucked safely under his mom’s chin. He couldn’t fix everything with his mom. And he couldn’t bring back Julie’s. But he could do this. And maybe…

He walked over and carefully put his arms around the two. At first it felt like nothing. Like he was going to pass right through again. But suddenly, he felt them.

Julie smiled as she felt Luke joining the hug. Warmth and peace rushed over her.

“Thanks, Mom.” She heard him whisper, just before he poofed outside to wait for her.

Emily’s eyes flew open and she looked around for a moment. Then, a little flustered, she walked Julie to the door and said goodbye.

As Julie walked away from the house, sweatshirt over her arm, she spotted Luke waiting for her at the end of the driveway, hands in his pockets.

“You’re smiling, Molina.” He teased. “Feel better?” Julie nodded.

“Yeah. A lot better actually. This was a really good idea, Luke. Thanks.” She smiled at him. He held out his hand to her. She reached out and took it. She could feel the roughness of calluses from his guitar as he rubbed his thumb against the top of her hand, the pressure as he squeezed her hand gently.

“Let’s go home.” He said.

The two turned, hand in hand, and started the walk back to Julie’s, both not noticing that the dahlias’ Emily had planted in the garden in front of the Patterson’s house had begun to bloom.

#julie and the phantoms #Jatp #jatp fanfic #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #I love my emotional support ghost band #I've hardly written in seven years guys so be gentle okay?

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kjack89 · 3 years

Text

gold rush

As was requested, a sequel to ‘tis the damn season (tumblr, AO3). ExR, modern AU, former relationship. Still not a happy ending. Still the potential for writing more.

I’m here.

Enjolras sent the text message and tried to ignore what felt an uncomfortable amount like nerves as he leaned against the fence, scrolling aimlessly through Twitter. He jumped when the gate swung open next to him, relaxing only slightly when he saw Grantaire. “Hey,” Grantaire said, his breath fogging the air.

“Hey,” Enjolras returned, a little awkwardly, wondering what the protocol was for greeting an ex.

Luckily, Grantaire solved the problem for him, reaching out to give him a quick, one-armed hug. “I honestly wasn’t sure you’d call,” he said as he let go of Enjolras. “Considering how we, uh, left things.”

Enjolras was tempted to ask if he was referring to how they’d left things a few nights ago after their chance meeting outside of the bar, or how they’d left things a decade ago when they broke up, but decided against it. “Technically I didn’t call you,” he pointed out instead, shoving his phone in the pocket of his coat. “I texted.”

Grantaire grinned. “Pedantic as always,” he said.

Wordlessly, they fell in line next to each other, walking down the sidewalk in momentary silence, which Grantaire broke with a sideways look at Enjolras. “So are you still scared of my parents?”

Enjolras scowled. “I’ve never been scared of your parents,” he said, somewhat insulted.

“Then why would you not just come up and ring my doorbell instead of texting me?” Grantaire asked, amused. “For that matter, why did you never once ring my doorbell the entire time we were dating?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras said honestly. “I guess it never occurred to me that I should have.”

Grantaire chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I suppose I can forgive you,” he said, nudging Enjolras lightly with his shoulder. “You were in high school, after all. And an idiot.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras said sourly.

“But I’m sure you’ve had a lot more experience meeting the parents of your significant other, Grantaire continued, glancing sideways at Enjolras. Right?”

Enjolras hesitated. “Depends on what you mean by experience,” he hedged.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“In my defense, I haven’t really ever dated someone that seriously.” Grantaire didn’t say anything and Enjolras winced with sudden realization. “Besides, um, besides you, I mean,” he muttered.

To his surprise, Grantaire just laughed lightly. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, and Enjolras frowned at him.

“Do what?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Pretend like we were more than what we were.”

Enjolras frowned at him. “I was under the impression we dated for three years in high school,” he said warily, wondering where exactly Grantaire was going with this.

Evidently, nowhere, since Grantaire just shook his head and looked down at the slush-dotted sidewalk. “You know what? Let’s not do this right now.”

Part of Enjolras wanted to ask, again, do what?, but he figured playing dumb wouldn’t get him particularly far. Instead, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because this is our last night in town together, and I assume when you texted me this morning to ask if I wanted to grab a drink that there would actually be drinks involved,” Grantaire said with a sigh. “And I don’t know about you, but I prefer my drinks without dredged up decades-old arguments.”

Enjolras cocked his head slightly. “Does it count as an argument if only one party is seemingly involved?”

Grantaire didn’t laugh. “I’ll defer to the lawyer among us on that.”

“Then I would say no,” Enjolras said, but Grantaire still didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Seriously, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, and I’m definitely not sure I can table something that I don’t understand.”

Grantaire sighed and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “Can we please just get that drink?” he asked, sounding tired. “It’s too fucking cold to have this conversation out here. And you know that I’ve always been better arguing with a drink or twelve in me.”

“On that point, the defense will stipulate.”

“Ok Yoda,” Grantaire said with a snort.

Enjolras scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Please tell me that I don’t have to explain Star Wars to you.”

“Fuck off, you know that’s not what I meant,” Enjolras said, without any real heat. “But if you see me as Yoda, of all characters—”

“I didn’t say that, but your turn of phrase was particularly Yoda-esque,” Grantaire shot back.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “So you don’t think I’m like Yoda?”

Grantaire smirked. “Didn’t say that either.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and huffed, “I feel like I’m beginning to understand why Han shot first.”

“Oh, so now I’m Greedo?” Grantaire asked, half-insulted and half-amused.

“And I didn’t say that.”

The familiar bickering carried them all the way to the bar, where they settled at a table in the back. “Uh, vodka tonic for me,” Grantaire told their waitress as he struggled to peel his sweatshirt off, the tshirt he was wearing underneath caught up in it as he tugged it up over his head.

Enjolras tried not to stare at the swath of taut skin revealed, and it took several tries before he realized the waitress had asked him a question. “Uh, what?”

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress repeated, looking like she was trying not to laugh.

“Uh…” Enjolras trailed off as Grantaire, finally triumphant over his sweatshirt, settled back in his seat, his arm muscles shifting as he reached up in vain to flatten his hair. “I’ll have the same.”

The waitress nodded and headed over to the bar, and Grantaire frowned at Enjolras. “Since when do you drink vodka?”

“Since when do you?” Enjolras returned, arching an eyebrow. “Last I saw, whiskey was your drink of choice.”

“Yeah, well, too many Jamo shots will ruin even the best whiskeys,” Grantaire said with a light laugh. “Besides, clear liquor has less calories, and I’m trying to watch my girlish figure.”

Enjolras laughed and the waitress returned with their drinks. Grantaire picked up his drink and made a mock toast. “Happy holidays,” he said, taking a large sip, as Enjolras just shook his head, his own sip much more reasonable.

“So now that you have alcohol in your system,” he said, setting his glass down on the table, “can we revisit what it was you were talking about earlier when you said that I shouldn’t pretend we were something we weren’t?”

Grantaire sighed. “Just when I was beginning to have a nice time,” he said mournfully.

“Grantaire.”

Even after all those years, it appeared Enjolras saying Grantaire’s name had a similar effect as it used to, as Grantaire sighed again, tracing a finger around the rim of his glass. “I just think you and I remember things a little differently,” he said carefully. “Maybe it’s just nostalgia coloring your memories, or maybe you’ve got early-onset Alzheimer’s.”

Enjolras frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“And the one thing I ever had going for me was making you laugh,” Grantaire said, a little too wry to be a joke. “But seriously...whatever you and I had, it wasn’t a relationship.” He tried to smile, but to Enjolras, it looked more like a grimace. “Not in the traditional sense of the word, anyway.”

Enjolras searched his expression for a long moment, trying and failing to understand what he meant. “What are you saying?” he asked finally.

Grantaire picked his drink up and drained it before glancing around for their waitress. “I’m saying that you were my boyfriend. But I wasn’t yours.” He spotted their waitress and gestured to her before meeting Enjolras’s eyes again. “I was, at best, your friend with benefits.” He made a face. “Probably more accurately, I was your booty call. Physical release. Whatever you want to call it.”

“That’s—”

Not true was what Enjolras desperately wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to. Mostly because he had a sinking feeling that Grantaire was correct. Grantaire arched an eyebrow as he waited for Enjolras to say something, taking a sip of his drink when the waitress returned with a refill. “Fine,” Enjolras said finally. “Maybe it was mostly physical, but that wasn’t all it was.”

“Sure, it was also your rebellion against the heteronormative world,” Grantaire said, nodding.

Enjolras scowled. “That’s not what I meant.”

Grantaire sighed. “Enjolras—”

“I loved you.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “Maybe you did. I can’t exactly claim to know every thought that’s run through your head. But I can tell you that that’s not how you acted at the time.”

“Was I really that horrible to you?” Enjolras asked quietly.

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “I think to be really horrible, that would have required you to care more about me,” he said slowly. “Instead, you...tolerated me, I guess.”

Enjolras’s chest felt tight as he thought desperately back on their relationship, on some piece of evidence he could present that would prove Grantaire incorrect. Instead, his mind replayed a litany of memories he had long since buried, of all the times Enjolras had scoffed when Grantaire tried to do something romantic, or told him to be serious when Grantaire asked him to homecoming or prom, or blew off their date nights because he had work to do on a protest.

Or, worst of all, that early morning in Enjolras’s bed, when Grantaire told him that he loved him, and Enjolras had told him that he needed to leave before Enjolras’s parents woke up.

Enjolras swallowed, hard, and forced himself to look at Grantaire. “You must’ve hated me for how I treated you,” he said softly.

Grantaire’s smile was sad. “I’ve never once in my life hated you, Enj,” he said quietly. “If anything, I hated myself for not being someone you could love.”

“I’m sorry.”

Grantaire shook his head. “That’s my issue, not yours. You didn’t do that to me.” He managed a tight smile. “I knew who you were when we were together. I knew what you wanted out of life, and I knew I wasn’t going to be a part of that.” He took a swig of his drink before adding, “And let’s also not pretend like I was some kind of stellar boyfriend. I was a fucked up mess.”

Enjolras huffed a sigh. “Maybe we both were,” he mused.

“Is that what this is about?” Grantaire asked mildly.

Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is this whole trip down memory lane with me just you trying to figure out where it all went wrong for you?”

“I– Who says it all went wrong for me?” Enjolras blustered. Grantaire just arched an eyebrow and Enjolras sighed, frowning down at his own, mostly untouched drink. “I guess I did envision a very different life for myself,” he admitted.

“And you’re not happy with where you are right now?” Grantaire asked, in a way that suggested he knew the answer and just wanted to hear Enjolras say it.

“How could I be?” Enjolras asked, aiming for levity as he added, “I wear a suit to work everyday, Grantaire. With a tie. My father told me he’s proud of me.”

Grantaire snorted. “The horror.” He propped his chin on his hand. “But speaking of your father, what happened to your college fund?”

“My college fund?”

“Yeah, you said that you’re working as a corporate attorney because you have to pay off your student loans, right?” Enjolras nodded and Grantaire continued, “If memory serves, your grandparents left you a fairly sizeable college fund that you were supposed to use to pay for school so that you didn’t have to take out student loans.”

“Ah,” Enjolras said, wincing. “They did.”

“And?” Grantaire prompted.

Enjolras sighed again. “And in a moment of well-intentioned idiocy, I donated every cent of it to charity.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “Well, almost. I did pay for undergrad with it. But what was left went to charity. And then my father told me that he would be happy to pay for law school.”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “Really?”

Enjolras made a face. “Yeah, if I agreed to specialize in business law.”

“And?”

“And I told him to get fucked,” Enjolras said bluntly before making a face again. “Of course he’s clearly had the last laugh, so.”

Grantaire shook his head, his expression softening. “Don’t count yourself out yet. I mean, for Christ’s sake, you’re not even 30 years old yet. You’ve got time.” He paused before adding, “Besides, I still believe in you.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Be serious.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “I am wild.”

A small smile twitched at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth and he shook his head slowly. “I keep thinking that you’ve changed so much, but then you go and say something like that and it’s like we’re 18 years old again.”

Grantaire laughed and took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know that I’d say I’ve changed,” he said.

“Then what would you say?”

“That I’ve had a lot of therapy, mostly,” Grantaire said, suddenly serious. “And grown up a little. And that while I may not have changed as much as you’re giving me credit for, I’m also not the fucked up mess I was in high school.”

Enjolras nodded, looking down at his drink again. “I wish I could say the same thing.”

“Well, it’s not too late to try.”

“I suppose not,” Enjolras allowed, managing a small smile, though it quickly faded. “And now I feel even worse.”

Grantaire frowned. “Why?”

“Because we’ve spent all this time talking about me and I haven’t asked you anything about you.” Grantaire made a face but Enjolras continued, “What are you doing these days? Hell, where are you living these days?”

“In a van, down by the river,” Grantaire said dryly.

“Hilarious.”

Grantaire smirked. “I like to think I am.” He shrugged. “I also prefer keeping a little mystery about me. Keeps ‘em coming for more, you know?”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “So you’re not going to answer even basic questions?”

Something darkened in Grantaire’s expression. “I mean, what is there to say? You want the square footage of my apartment? You want me to drone on about my terrible, awful, absolute godsend of a cat? You want me to talk about the latest exhibit I’m curating at the gallery I work at?”

“Actually, yeah.” Enjolras said, a little defensively, even if he didn’t quite understand the hard edge in Grantaire’s voice. “I’d like to hear about your life, if you’d let me.”

Grantaire shook his head and finished his second drink, already looking around for their waitress. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” Enjolras asked impatiently.

“Pretend you’re interested.”

“What makes you think I’m not actually interested?” Grantaire scoffed and looked away, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, realization hitting as the theme of the evening returned in full force. “Because I never used to be.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“I’m—”

Grantaire looked flatly at him. “I swear to God, Enjolras, if you try to apologize one more time…”

Enjolras held his hands up defensively. “Fine, then I’m not sorry for being a completely self-absorbed asshole.”

It was a little too caustic to be a joke, which is probably why Grantaire just shook his head, something contemplative in his expression. “You were never self-absorbed. A little self-important, maybe, and with a white savior complex to rival the colonizers you so desperately hated—”

“Watch it.”

Grantaire smirked, though it quickly faded. “But your problem was never that you only cared about yourself. Your problem was that you cared so much about saving the world that you didn’t have a lot left for the people right in front of you.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Yeah, well, I don’t have that problem anymore,” he said tiredly.

Grantaire just raised an eyebrow. “That remains to be seen.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Enjolras said with a dry, humorless laugh. “Well, in the spirit of trying to show you that, tell me about yourself. And I will actually listen.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, I will tell you about myself – if you answer one question for me.”

“Anything.”

“Why now?”

The stark question took Enjolras by surprise, and he blinked at Grantaire. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why do you suddenly want to know about me?” Grantaire asked, a challenge in his tone. “My phone number hasn’t changed. Facebook exists. Hell, you could even find me on LinkedIn if you really wanted to. But you never made that attempt. So I want to know why you care now.” He gestured around the bar. “Because if it’s just proximity, you go back to your life tomorrow, and I go back to mine, and since the likelihood of us running into each other again is pretty slim, you don’t have to waste time pretending to care.”

“That’s not fair,” Enjolras said quietly.

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “Maybe not. But like I said, I grew up. And I don’t have time for anything but honesty.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “Fine, you want honesty?” he snapped, more riled than he had any right to be. “The phone works both ways. If you had wanted to stay in touch, you could have just as easily.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Grantaire’s face. “Objection. Presumes facts not in evidence.”

“I beg your pardon?” Enjolras said coldly.

“C’mon, you’re a lawyer, if I can pick up what that means from watching reruns of Law & Order, surely I don’t have to explain it to you.” Enjolras just gave him a look, and Grantaire sighed. “Fine, I guess I do.” He picked up his drink and lifted it in a mock toast once again. “I never said that I wanted to stay in touch.”

Grantaire didn’t deliver the words harshly, but Enjolras still recoiled. “Now who’s the one who doesn’t care?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, but it was too late to take them back. Hurt flashed across Grantaire’s face before his expression evened out. “There are a lot of things you can accuse me of,” he said quietly, “but don’t ever accuse me of not caring about you. Not after everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said softly. “That was...out of line.”

“You think?”

Enjolras swallowed and looked away. “So why didn’t you want to stay in touch?” he asked, a little roughly.

Grantaire sighed. “Because I preferred not knowing,” he said simply. “If I didn’t know where you were at, what you were doing, then I could imagine you however I wanted to.” He managed a small, slightly sad smile. “And, at the beginning at least, I could imagine a way that we could still work things out.”

“Like what?” Enjolras asked, intrigued despite himself.

Grantaire glanced at him. “Do you actually want to know?”

“Yes.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure if Grantaire would believe him, but it didn’t seem to matter. Or maybe Grantaire had been looking for an opportunity, and this was as good as any. “I used to imagine showing up at your fancy law school,” Grantaire said slowly, with a genuine if wistful smile. “I used to imagine that I’d sneak into one of those fancy alumni dinners – I don’t know how – and I’d hide in the background, watching you, biding my time. Then when the opportunity came, when you made some claim about the working class or something, I’d casually speak up, contradict you or ask for your sources, just to watch the recognition on your face as you looked at me.”

“But you never did,” Enjolras said, his heart beating painfully in his chest, and Grantaire snorted and shook his head.

“Of course not,” he scoffed.

Enjolras frowned slightly. “Why not?”

Grantaire just shook his head. “Logistics aside, because I knew the reality would never have been as satisfying as what I imagined.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, in the version in my head, you’d smoothly counter my point, we’d bicker like old times and then you’d excuse us to discuss this further. And then…” He trailed off, his smile turning sad. “Well, then we’d wander around campus, bickering some more and it would be like you’d never left. Like we never ended.” His voice cracked and he looked away. “Perfect.”

Enjolras almost didn’t want to speak, to interrupt the moment, but he also couldn’t stop himself from asking, “And you didn’t want to try for that?”

Grantaire shook his head again. “Of course not. Because it was a dream. That version of me and that version of you don’t exist.”

“Do you think they ever could have?” Enjolras asked.

“I don’t know,” Grantaire said honestly. “But it doesn’t matter. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past decade, looking back only gets you so far.” He finished his drink and set it down with a clunk on the table. “Let that be the lesson of the evening, I guess. And speaking of…” He looked at his bare wrist as if pretending to look at a watch. “It’s probably time I got home. I’ve got an early train to catch in the morning.”

“Hang on,” Enjolras said, frowning. “You still didn’t tell me anything about you.”

Grantaire smirked. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “So stay,” he said, more of a request than an order. “Have one more drink. Tell me about your life.” Grantaire shook his head and Enjolras reached across the table, closing his hand around Grantaire’s wrist. “Please.”

“I can’t,” Grantaire said quietly. “But you’ve got my number, if you ever want to continue this conversation. Or, y’know, start a different one.”

“I wish…” Enjolras trailed off. “I don’t know. I wish I had more time. To make things up to you.” He met Grantaire’s eyes. “Or to at least try.”

Grantaire smiled crookedly at him. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, twisting his hand in Enjolras’s grip so that he could grasp his hand. “You’ve given me the only thing I’ve wanted for ten years.”

“What?”

“You asked me to stay.“

Enjolras’s throat felt tight. “Grantaire—”

Grantaire let go of Enjolras’s hand and stood, grabbing his coat and sweatshirt. “Take care of yourself, Enjolras,” he said softly. “You know how to reach me if you want to. Otherwise…”

He didn’t bother finishing his sentence, just rapping his knuckles lightly on the table before walking away. Enjolras watched him leave, wondering not for the first time if this is how Grantaire had felt watching him leave a decade ago.

Wondering if this was really the end for them.

And wondering, just a little, if this was what heartbreak felt like.

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras x grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #former relationship #light angst #idk what even to tag this as #there's a lot of painful honesty here #things that should have been said a long time ago etc etc #and then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea 'cause it could never be

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lyssismagical · 4 years

Note

hello! do you take prompts? i really wanna read something where peter is quarantined with the starks and one day he’s on an online class and all of a sudden tony interrupts him with something and his classmates on the sceen are like :o

Oops sorry this took so long to write but here we are :)

(TW Covid Mentions)

(Also @justme--emily wrote one with a similar prompt so go read that one too)

Peter drops his bag on the front porch, crossing his arms over his chest as he steps across the threshold into the cabin. This is the first time in the past year and a half that he’s been visiting the cabin that he hasn’t wanted to be here.

Happy hovers behind him, frown plastered on his face as he meets Tony’s worried gaze.

“You okay, kiddo?” Tony asks. He reaches out like he’s about to comfort his kid, but he stops short. “You should probably- Uh, wash off before I…”

Peter nods, offering a forced smile, not bothering to answer the question. He ducks down the hall towards his bedroom, once a guest bedroom but now adorned with Star Wars posters and littered in his things. It’s his in a way that he never thought would be allowed before the Snap when he used to pack all of his things up when he left the tower after ‘Training Weekends’ or ‘Internship Retreats.’

The word pandemic still rings in his head. A scary thing to be experiencing, even if he knows he’ll be perfectly safe living in the cabin, virtually in the middle of nowhere. Especially with Pepper, who’s a perfectionist and a clean person, paired with Tony’s concerning health detriments.

But May’s out there in Queens, alone, working as a nurse, and Peter’s upset. He doesn’t want her to be alone, he doesn’t want her to be in danger, he doesn’t want her to be put in the line of fire. But he knows this is what he does to her every day when he goes out as Spider-Man, throwing himself into dangerous situations and leaving her by herself to fret.

It’s fair, he knows that, and she’s the true hero, but he still hates that she’s out there by herself.

He stands in the shower for longer than he needs to, long since finished his washing to make sure he’s clean, even though he hasn’t seen anybody since the announcement of the pandemic, other than Happy. He wasn’t even allowed to hug May goodbye.

Eventually, though, he’s not allowed to continue his sulking, so he heads downstairs for lunch, even if he wants to hide away in his bed for the next few months.

“Peter!” Morgan shouts, racing up to him and throwing her arms around his hips. She’s grinning up at him, showing off one of her missing front teeth. “We missed you so, so, so, so much.”

“Wow, that’s a lot,” Peter says, half-heartedly, scooping her up into his arms and kissing the top of her head. He knows he’s not acting like himself, he sees it in the crease of Tony’s forehead and the pout that adorns Morgan’s face, but he’s tired and he doesn’t feel like putting in the effort of pretending.

It’s been a little while since schools were closed, so Peter already has plenty of homework stacked on his shoulders, along with MJ’s Academic Decathlon meets she insists still need to happen twice a week.

He tries not to let that show in his face when he offers a tired smile at Tony who leans forward to press a kiss to the kid’s forehead.

“I know this all sucks, and I know you’re worried about May, but it’s her turn to be the Parker Hero, alright? She’s going to be okay.”

“And if she’s not?” Peter asks because he knows he’s had to. It’s a painful reflection of the amount of loss he’s faced. “What then?”

“We’ll figure it out if it comes to it,” Pepper says. She, like everybody, looks tired and worry pinches her features.

Peter nods like this is all perfectly fine. Like he’s okay with sitting in the cabin day-in and day-out while May works tirelessly in the city.

“Think of it this way, by staying home and not Spider-Manning and following the rules like the rest of civilization, your aunt will have less people in the hospital with her and less chances of catching anything. Does that?”

Peter shrugs, slipping down into one of the kitchen chairs. “Sure… I’m fine. I’m just tired. I wanna sleep for a thousand years.”

“May sent me a general idea of what your schedule was looking like, and as much as I condone healthy sleeping schedules, you have a Decathlon meeting in a few hours.” Pepper casts a glance at the obvious circles under Peter’s eyes. “But after that, you can sleep through the rest of the day. You deserve it.”

Tony serves up some breakfast for them. Blueberry pancakes after Morgan had demanded a special breakfast for Peter’s arrival.

And it makes Peter feel a lot better already.

Tony makes stupid dad jokes that make Morgan crack up in hysterical giggles, especially when Peter rolls his eyes overdramatically as they get worse and worse. And Pepper playfully scolds them for making a mess with the syrup which makes Peter ‘accidentally’ pour too much syrup on his plate which makes Morgan almost fall out of her chair she laughs so hard.

And Morgan’s laughter is infectious. Peter finds himself laughing along, tired smile slowly becoming his regular grin.

After breakfast, Peter calls May and talks to her on the phone about how work’s going and about the Stark Family. He promises to call her every day around the same time to check in, and she promises to pick up as often as she can.

And then he makes sure Pepper knows he’ll be attending his Academic Decathlon call in his bedroom, so if she could keep Morgan busy, that’d be for the best. There’s something quietly alight in her smile when he says his bedroom.

It’s nice to see his friends again, even through the screen.

Ned, MJ, Betty, Cindy, Abe, Zach, Flash, and Brad are all there on the screen, grinning back at them like they’re just as excited to see all the little pixelated faces.

It’s so different to see everybody in their pajamas, or at least sweatpants and old hoodies, hair messily uncared for. Even Flash’s hair is sticking up in a bedhead way and he’s obviously sitting in his bed, not even bothering to drag himself to a desk for the call.

“You know it’s eleven, right?” Ned whined. “I was planning on sleeping in until at least two. How do you look put together, Peter? That’s literally so unfair.”

“I haven’t slept yet,” Peter admits, laughing a little too carefree. “Oops?”

MJ rolls her eyes, something Peter didn’t realize how much he’d been looking forward to seeing, and she quickly pulls the meeting back on track, pulling out her hefty stack of cue cards to quiz them.

Eventually, an hour or two later, there’s a knock on Peter’s door and Tony pokes his head in.

“Sorry to interrupt, kiddo,” he says, a warm smile on his face. He holds out a Hello Kitty mug. “I made you some coffee. May said you’ve finally caved and joined the coffee-drinkers.”

Peter grins, gratefully accepting the warm mug and holding it to his chest. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Holy shit,” Flash says.

“Mister Stark!” Ned waves exaggeratedly.

Tony smiles, waving back at the screen. He looks like a real dad standing in Peter’s doorway in his sweatpants and an old, fraying MIT sweatshirt, hair messy and smiling proudly.

Peter winces, though, hoping this isn’t about to wildly throw his life off course.

“You actually knew Tony freaking Stark,” Flash says, eyes wide in the screen. He shoves a hand through his hair in a poor attempt to flatten it.

“I told you I did. Not my fault you didn’t believe me,” Peter says, shrugging. He turns back to Tony. “Thanks for the coffee. I should be done in a bit.”

“Have fun, kiddo. I’ll have lunch ready for you when you’re done.” He pulls the door shut behind him as he leaves.

Everyone on the screen has matching expressions of dropped jaws and wide eyes, other than Ned who’s grinning mischievously and MJ who just looks bored.

“I can’t believe you were telling the truth this whole time,” Cindy says, followed by Betty’s, “I mostly believed you because I saw you with the new Starkphone, but you’re actually living with Iron Man.”

“Oh my god,” Flash says.

Peter shrugs. “Yeah. He’s nice and all, but he spent nearly an hour telling the worst dad jokes I’ve ever heard, so don’t let him fool you with the whole cool-guy persona he puts on for the public.”

Nothing’s really right in the world, but Peter’s always been the kind of person to find the good pieces of the bad. He’s got the Starks to keep him company and to help him out with everything, Tony’s a pretty good cook, Morgan’s the greatest little sister the world could ask for, and he’s got his friends, just a phone call away to make his anxieties fade even just a little.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @tonystarkweneedyou {Let me know if you want to be added or removed}

#lyss writes #lyss answers #tw covid mention #tw covid 19 #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #morgan stark #may parker is a hero that's all #Irondad and Spiderson #irondad fic

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lightneverfades · 3 years

Text

That Damned Gazebo

Frostiron Holiday Wishes Challenge ❆ 🎅🎄 Prompt by @snarkyship Fic written by @worstloki Note: AH! So sorry this is a late post, tumblr messed up and I didn’t receive this on Xmas day! Ah! Thank you @worstloki for resending! TwT <3333

Wish (Prompt/Idea): Human/no powers AU. Sort-of-enemies to friends to lovers.Tony rents this house/bungalow by the sea for the summer, with a kind of private beach where there is also a cute gazebo. Only that the gazebo is exactly halfway with the other property (by some mistake?). And the tenant of the neighbour bungalow is Loki, who's not so keen on sharing. So Loki&Tony will start a "war" to gain possession of the gazebo, doing their worst using the excuse of "this is my half, I can use it as I want". ((Optional: there is a table right in the middle, so at the beginning they sit at their own side glaring at each other, before starting deploying more convoluted tactics)).Mischief after mischief, they will start to know each other and of course everything will end with one of them inviting the other to their half for a romantic dinner and they'll end up sharing more than the gazebo <3((I hope it's enough clear and but also not too detailed??))

Stupid cute bungalow. Stupid cute gazebo. Stupid cute neighbour.

All Tony wanted was a vacation; a break from running a business and having to argue for his ideas to get accepted by the marketing teams and just some time to lay low and relax.

All Loki wanted was a break from being upstaged in his section of the family business by his brother; some time off to cool down and de-stress and lay low and relax.

But instead only half their regular favourite beach house was available no matter how much cash they offered to throw at the real estate company renting it out. Could they have picked a different place to stay? Maybe. But none of the other decent rentables this far west have a gazebo, and they would have nowhere to sit alone and admire the waves from afar if they took a place without one.

And, of course, that’s where it all started— that gazebo.

That damned gazebo.

———

Day 1

Tony Stark, genius, entrepreneur, philanthropist, makes his way unsteadily down the sandy-grassy slope from the bungalow to the beach, arms filled with an excessive amount of floating supplies, a personalized towel, sunglasses only half on, a fun-sized bottle of the finest sun lotion, a laptop because he may leave the stock market but the stock market may not leave him, a black Prada shirt over khaki Hawaiian shorts, a speaker for music, hot-rod red flip flops, a bag of snacks, a thin multipurpose blanket, and a polaroid.

He almost slips a few times on his way down, and he thinks he sees a crab and swears, but he does make it down to the brilliant white-sand beach of Malibu unharmed.

His plan is simple: spend the day in the shade of the wooden gazebo, sneak a peek at how his business is holding up, check his emails, play some Tetris, sunbathe around noon when the sun is highest, back under the shelter till the sun starts going down, into the water for some splashing, drying off as the sun sets, listen to some tunes while laying under the stars for a while.

Just a regular day off at his favourite beach.

He walks to the shaded gazebo area and draws the curtain to enter, and dumps the entire contents within his arms over the table in the center. He turns to open up the curtains on all sides but is interrupted by an ahem.

Tony turns, and, in the curtained darkness, makes out the figure of a person.

He must be the one who booked out the other half of the house, Tony thinks, eying the stranger sitting at the opposite end of the table with only a book and bottle of water. Show-off minimalists, Tony thinks, saltily.

“I would prefer if you didn’t open those,” he says, and Tony doesn’t recognize the accent, but there definitely is one. Maybe it’s a blend?

“But what’s the point of sitting under a gazebo on a beach if you can’t see the view?” Tony asks, pulling one open, letting in some light.

The man practically hisses at Tony for doing it, which, okay, weird, but that’s normal when you’re assaulted with bright light and have been sitting in the dark.

“How were you reading in the dark anyway? Don’t you know it’s bad for your eyes?”

“I assure you I was able to read just fine.”

“Yeah… I’m opening the rest of these too…” Tony says, reaching for the curtain by the other side.

“Not if you wish to share this table, you won’t,” the man threatens.

“Are you… trying to bribe me?” Tony asks, shocked, because who does this guy think he is?

“Compromise with,” the man has the gall to say. “And with table space, yes,” and Tony sputters. What can he even say to this. He’s here for a vacation, not to argue with strangers who are taking up half the gazebo space that should be his!

“Half,” Tony suggests, because he will not sit in the dark all day and miss out on his beach-view just so he gets to use the table. “You get half of this space, and I get the other half, and we can do whatever we want on our sides.”

The man sighs. “Fine. That sounds fair.”

The two of them spend the entire rest of the day sitting at opposite sides of the table pretending they’re not intentionally glaring and making crazy faces and trying to telepathically get rid of the other when they’re not looking.

Tony doesn’t comment on how the man barely gets any reading done and the man in turn doesn’t comment on how much equipment Tony brought down that he doesn’t use at any point in favour of using the laptop to retain his spot under the gazebo.

Schedule be damned, Tony is going to enjoy his vacation, and that means enjoying his duplex bungalow, even if someone else is renting half, and enjoying his gazebo that may be in-between the properties and they both may be paying for but is 100% actually his.

They wait each other out, and both head up to their houses at the same time; around midnight.

———

Day 2

Loki wakes at his usual time, showers, pointedly gets dressed into anything but the black shirt he has that matches what the man had on yesterday, and grabs his book before he heads down to the beach.

Having to share the same table was, simply put, incredibly awkward, but Loki has faith in it not happening again. He’s just going to make his way down to the gazebo and spend the day relaxing and rereading his favourite series without a pretentious-bearded neighbour showing up and making things weird.

“YOU!” Loki hears, and turns to find the same man from yesterday rushing down the slope towards him, “WHY ARE YOU UP AT THIS TIME?!”

Loki takes in the sight of the man dressed in a half-buttoned-up hawaiian shirt and pajama pants, with only a laptop and towel in hand, hair clearly fresh from bed, and, before he thinks better of it, counters eloquently with, “why are you half dressed?”

The man waves his arms in frustration, “I was tired! And in a rush! You don’t get to judge me, you’re the other f*ck who woke up this early!”

“I… normally get up this early…” Loki informs him, backing away slowly.

He can’t believe he’s going to have to deal with this guy again.

At least his sweatshirt has a green hood so he can block the guy out of his sight, right? He won’t spend the entire day rereading paragraphs because the man at the other end of the table is making him feel anxious, right? Surely the man is bringing the towel to lay in the sand which means he won’t be needing the gazebo, right?

Loki literally booked this bungalow because it’s in Malibu, and no one pays for a place like this in Malibu when you can rent a lower quality place and spend the money on beach parties and drinks. The fact that it’s far enough from home to make him feel safer was a bonus, but he really just wanted to be alone for a few days.

Loki takes a seat, and crosses one leg over the other, getting comfy so he can lean the book on the table. He tries not to get annoyed that the curtains are still parted halfway. He wouldn’t mind if the ones on his side were open too, but at this point he’s not acquiescing a point to the stranger.

The man pulls the wooden chair out and sits down opposite him.

Of course he does.

Why wouldn’t he.

“So you’re really going to keep reading in the dark?” he says, flipping open his laptop.

“Yep, and that suits me just fine, thank you,” Loki answers neutrally.

“Does my no-light-reading-neighbour have a name?”

“Do you?”

“Tony.”

“Loki.”

“Nice to meet you, Loki,”

“Thank you.”

Loki uses his bookmark to flip to his page, and starts reading. He will not get distracted by this Tony. It’s totally normal to share this table. It’s not huge, but it’s built for at least six, so there’s space. Maybe not enough to lay on, but it’s enough distance to ignore the clicking of Tony’s keyboard as he frantically presses keys.

Loki is two hours into enjoying his reading time, and he thinks he was doing well.

He’d smiled every time Tony yawned because with eye-rubbing and deep sighs that man was not used to getting up early, but he’d actually gotten through nearly three chapters without incident.

Then, the infuriating man had plunked a speaker onto the table and started playing AC/DC.

Now he’s reread this one line at least fourteen times and still doesn’t know what the red-head was doing with Jon.

“Why?” Loki asks, “Why must you do this? You can see me reading, you’re blocking out the distant sound of waves hitting the shore, it’s not even at a decent volume, so, why?!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Tony answers, “Did you say something? Because I couldn’t hear you over the music, but it sounded like you had an issue with what I was doing on my side.”

“Your music is not staying on your side!” Loki argues, but only receives a shrug and an increase in volume.

He presses his lips together.

Fine. If you’re going to be petty about this, then I can too.

Under the table, Loki kicks Tony.

He hasn’t got shoes on, but he’s always had a knack for aiming very well, and Tony’s whimper (?) (it’s hard to tell with the music so loud) assures him he hit the shin bone well enough.

By the time Tony is done cradling his leg and looks up at Loki with a mix of anger/betrayal, Loki is already reading again, the perfect image of serenity.

Loki tries not to laugh as Tony discovers his legs are not long enough to kick back.

———

Day 3

Tony didn’t bother trying to wake up before Loki this time.

He went at his own pace, and remembered to change out of the pajamas, brushed his hair, had coffee, and took the time to make himself a few sandwiches to enjoy through the day.

Yesterday he even went for a quick swim around ten at night and headed straight back up to his side of the bungalow, because he’s a responsible adult who doesn’t need to out-do a stranger’s sleep-schedule. Or leg-length. Or laugh.

It isn’t a competition or anything.

By the time he makes it down to the beach, he finds Loki sitting under the gazebo, alone, with all the curtains tied open.

He’s also... wearing a black Prada shirt which matches the one Tony threw on this morning?? What?! Taking up half the space on his side of the table with 1 (one) bottle of water wasn’t enough, he also has to taunt him by wearing the exact same thing?!

He storms to his side of the gazebo and slams his palms down, taking satisfaction in the fact that Loki was startled and drops his book onto the table. Tony hopes he’s lost the page he was on.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Hello, neighbour,” Loki greets, gingerly picking up his book again and giving a hesitant smile. “I didn’t realise you would be wearing the same shirt again, but I was hoping we could get off on a different foot today?”

Huh, well, would ya look at that, Tony thinks, I actually won. The sucker is gonna admit I’m too much and wave the white flag.

“That... actually sounds great,” Tony answers with his award-winning client-smile, sitting down opposite him. “This whole thing with splitting the table and curtains in half was a bit ridiculou—”

Tony yelps and stands up and starts frantically rubbing his hand over his butt which is stinging— he looks down at his seat and sees the culprit —a crab, menacing in all it’s crabby glory.

“Are you... okay?” Loki asks, far too confused, far too innocently, far too worried for it to be genuine, “what’s wrong?”

Tony, outraged, yells at Loki, “DID YOU FRICKIN PUT A CRAB IN MY SEAT?!”

“I— what?”

“WHO THE F*CK CALLS A PARLEY AND CRABS SOMEONE?!”

“No! I didn’t— are you okay??” Loki says, and he’s gotten up and rushing over and...okay, MAYBE he didn’t mastermind the crab.

“NO, I AM NOT, BUT THANK YOU FOR ASKING,” Tony screams, backing away from Loki, and running towards his bungalow.

Running in sand is hard, but Tony discovers it’s much harder when your butt is stinging.

———

Loki… did not put a crab on Tony’s seat.

He’d honestly wanted to draw up a truce, maybe have an actual conversation with Tony, and he even brought a towel and wore a change of clothes underneath in the event that the man wanted to go for a swim and wouldn’t mind if Loki joined.

He’d even brought snacks to share.

But now he feels bad.

Had kicking him under the table every time Tony had put the volume too loud or managed to slide low enough to kick him back or played We're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard been bad? Had it been too much? Why else would Tony assume he’d actually try and hurt him?

The glare-offs had just been fun, faces when they thought the other couldn’t see wasn’t bad-intentioned, the kicking hadn’t meant to injure. Loki had thought they were getting along. Perhaps he had misunderstood? Perhaps the other had not felt they were fun little pranks?

He owes Tony an apology.

———

Tony has been icing his butt for an hour. If he had any duct tape, he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt.

Tony is thinking about how if he had any duct tape he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt by now when someone bangs at his door.

Gee, I wonder who it could be, Tony thinks, as he goes to answer the door. Just so many people who visit this private beach residence. In all honesty it’s kind of sweet that Loki would turn up to check on him at all really.

Tony leaves the pea packet on the nearest counter and goes to answer the door. Good thing about this bungalow: it has many spare counters for things like dumping peas. An excessive amount of counters, even, and he questions what the designer had been thinking.

Tony swings the door open, “Hey there, crab-man.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki blurts.

“Hey, it’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore, but at least you’re owning to it.”

“I didn’t set that up! I wouldn’t actually try to cause any lasting damage,” Loki explains.

Tony sighs.

“Yeah, I figured, I was just caught up in the moment and shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Would’ve been a very Shakespearean betrayal too…” Loki muses.

“So… anything else you came to say?” Tony asks. Although he’s not sure why.

“Would you be feeling up to sharing the table like normal people?”

“Oh, come on, where would be the fun in that?” Tony jokes.

“You… weren’t hurt or offended when I kicked you or said your music taste is dumb?”

“Course not. We’ve all had wild college nights out, believe me, kick to the shins was nothing.”

“Crab grabs though…”

“If you want to share the table like normal people we will not be mentioning the crab grab.”

“Deal,” Loki says, and he’s beaming as if he’s won a prize. Which is really cute. Which is why Tony doesn’t regret slamming the door in his face.

Stupid cute neighbour.

He needs to change anyway.

———

Loki and Tony hang out under the gazebo, and they share the table.

Every so often Loki will read a line or two aloud and Tony will find himself snickering in response to Loki’s comments on the lines if not the lines themselves. Every now and then Tony tells Loki to look over at his screen as he invests in either the stock market or a round of Tetris.

Around noon Tony asks if Loki would like to sunbathe with him and Loki sees no reason not to join in. He doesn’t have any sunscreen of his own but Tony has plenty and is happy to share.

They talk about their work, and what they’re avoiding (family) in their little getaways from home, just things about life generally.

The sun is going to set soon when Loki asks if Tony would like to spend some time by the water with him.

The two of them spend a good thirty minutes hitting each other with floaties when they aren't sitting around in them, and, despite wading in till their knees, and flinging water at each other, they manage not to get too wet.

They sit in the sand watching the sun set in beautiful streaks of purples and orange as they dry off their feet.

Loki brought two towels in case of such a scenario (which Tony finds very endearing and sweet) and they lay on them as they watch the sky darken to reveal the stars. Loki tries to point out some constellations but Tony is convinced he’s making them up. Maybe he is.

The two of them share sandwiches and chips and chocolates and decide to head up early at around nine.

Tony invites Loki over for a movie, and how can Loki say no? He only just met him, but he’d rather be stuck sharing this bungalow and beach and gazebo with him than have to return home in a few days.

The house is huge, and there is plenty of room on the couch for them to be spaced out, but they choose to share a blanket and stay close because they want to.

Loki hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but he stays late and falls asleep in the middle of a movie and Tony doesn’t mind at all. It’s hard for him to mind when he’s also fallen asleep.

———

Day 4

Tony wakes early.

Not Loki-early, but earlier than usual, because he’s looking forward to spending time with Loki.

Hmm. Maybe it is technicallyyy still Loki-early. Whatever.

Except, Tony wakes up alone and walks down the slope to the gazebo, and finds it empty. A quick scan of the beach also yields no results. Which is concerning, but not overly so. Maybe he just has something else to do today?

Tony gets through a few hours by rotating through Tetris, League of Legends, and Galaga, before he gives in and walks up to Loki’s half of the duplex bungalow.

He bangs his fist on the door and waits.

About a minute later, Loki answers, in green-plaid pants and a vintagey AC/DC band shirt, hair looking only half brushed.

“Are you seriously wearing that kind of shirt as pajamas?”

“Yes. And good... morning?”

“Morning!” Tony cheerily greets in return, before his expression gets less so, “why aren’t you out today?”

“Good afternoon? I... just wasn’t feeling too well, a bad day I guess,” Loki explains, which Tony understands. “And I already over-lived my stay with you yesterday, so I thought you could have the gazebo all to yourself today, since I’m not really in a beach mood anyway.”

And that’s a big no in Tony’s book because no he didn’t go too far or over-stay anything and no he doesn’t owe him anything and no in general because Tony liked spending time with him! He’s fun and caring and Tony’s wondering where this guy was for every other vacation he spent here because Tony considers him a friend!

“That’s sweet,” Tony lies, “I’m not really in a beach mood either.”

“Ah. Would you… like to come in?” Loki asks, hesitant.

“Of course buddy, if my friend wants to stay home I’m sticking with him.”

Loki stands aside, letting Tony into the bungalow that he’s used to owning on his own, but, shockingly enough, doesn’t mind sharing anymore.

“Would it be bad to ask what kind of bad mood?” Tony questions, taking a seat by the TV. It’s off and he doesn’t see a remote.

“A bit, yes, but I value the thought,” Loki answers, checking the kitchen cupboards.

“So what were you doing in here all alone without me, beach buddy?”

“Reading.”

Hmm. Tony considers. They did do what he had wanted yesterday.

“Can I join?” Tony inquires, “if you have any spare books, that is.”

“I didn’t know you could read.” Loki says with half-hearted disgust, walking behind the couch to a small bookshelf.

“Harry Potter, you got me,” Tony states in the driest tone, “Ha ha.”

“I’ve got the second Game of Thrones—“

“There’s a book?!”

“And the series hasn’t updated in years.”

“Bummer, hate when they do that, but at least the show ended?”

“Yeah, badly,” Loki points out. “I’ve got the Lord of the Rings trilogy.”

“I thought you didn’t like the hobbits being taken to Isengard,” Tony pouts.

“Not when it’s on loop and happening the sixth time in a row,” Loki says, dropping the book into Tony’s lap roughly.

Yeah, okay, the man isn’t feeling well, maybe he should leave? But Tony doesn’t want to leave him alone if he’s feeling bad either!

Tony opens the book, skipping through the contents and prologue-y pages. He will enjoy the book and he’ll do it while sitting on the opposite side of the couch because if Loki doesn’t want to lay across and tangle their legs under a blanket that’s up to him. Besides, that’s more an afternoon activity, and Tony isn’t tired at all, so he’s sitting up properly. Which contrasts with Loki’s slouchy leaning-into-the-couch.

“You know, if it’s too quiet, or the book doesn’t interest you, you can just watch something, I won’t be offended.”

“Not so fast, crab-man, I’m doing this to have fun and try something you enjoy, because I like spending time with you, and think that’s fair,” Tony states, and oh sh*t Loki looks devastated. Quick, something fun, something fun, “So I will definitely be trying to read it... at least a bit, before I do anything else… because I may vehemently not-like reading, but I do enjoy your company.”

“Okay,” Loki verbosely replies.

Tony tries to figure out what he’s done wrong but Loki’s opened his book up already.

Tony manages to get through the book in about two hours. Which means he didn’t actually read through it, he just tried, and kept skipping to pages further along that looked more interesting. To be fair, there is a lot of exposition and world building that he knows doesn’t matter because it’s not in the movies.

Loki’s been shifting how he’s sitting at twenty minute intervals, but Tony hasn’t moved lest he come off as restless and not loving the book.

“You can put something on,” Loki suggests, having noticed that Tony is done.

“It won’t disturb you?”

“Not if you don’t have it unreasonably high.”

Tony looks around for the remote, and doesn’t see it. “Any idea where the remote is?”

“Eh, it’ll be lying around somewhere. Maybe check the kitchen?”

And so, Tony sets out on a quest to find the remote.

He doesn’t find it.

He looks through every inch of the couch and in every kitchen cupboard but all he finds are pop tarts and pennies.

At some point Loki puts his book aside and decides to watch him look. He’s even smiling a tiny bit which Tony takes for a good sign.

“Hey, so, I couldn’t find the remote.”

“That’s a shame,” Loki says, and he’s definitely smiling, “would be horrible if someone knows where it is.”

“YOU!” Tony says, rounding in on him, depression be damned, he’s been looking everywhere for an hour now! “Where is it?!”

“Wh— why do you think I would know?” Loki says, turning his face away, his arms crossed pretentiously.

“You’re laughing!” Tony says, pointing a finger at him. “I spend ages looking for this legendary remote and find out you’ve been playing me the entire time” —Tony pokes a finger in the center of his chest for emphasis— “and you’re laughing!”

And okay, it’s a little funny, and Loki’s having fun, so Tony huffs a laugh too.

“I’m not laughing,” Loki tries to say flatly, face turned away, as he clearly tries not to laugh.

Tony being Tony does the only respectable thing in this kind of scenario and jumps onto the couch, straddling Loki, so he can turn his face back towards him.

“Where’s the remote!” Tony yells, to no avail, not even a reaction to having sat on his legs. Is Loki even breathing? His smile is clearly becoming harder to hold…

“Tell me where the remote is” — Tony grabs the thick novel Loki had been reading — “or I’ll take out your bookmark!”

“No!!!” Loki says, trying to grab hold of his book. “Not the bookmark!!! That’s my one weakness! Please, no! Anything but the bookmark!!!”

“Don’t make me do it!! Because I will!!”

Loki chuckles.

“Fine, you win, here” —Loki reaches a hand under the pillow behind him, and holds up the remote.

Tony snatches it immediately, and gives Loki a peck on the cheek thanks before getting off and going back to his side of the couch.

If Loki looks a little confused about the quick kiss, it’s gone by the time Tony is done flicking through the channels and decides a nature documentary is something they could both enjoy. When Mr Attenborough mentions otters holding hands when they’re happy and Loki asks if he can hold Tony’s hand of course Tony says yes.

Later, when Loki insists on cooking for the two of them he throws together some instant noodles and adds in carrots and peas and egg and mushrooms, and he asks if Tony would like to share the meal down by the beach, he agrees.

“You sure you’re up for this? I don’t mind eating back in the bungalow, and if you’re feeling uncomfortable I’d rather just go back,” Tony makes clear.

“I don’t actually know why I thought staying home would make me feel any better,” Loki says lightly.

“Hey man, sometimes you’ve just gotta stay home, it happens, don’t worry about it,” Tony consoles, carefully going down the sandy grassy slope to the beach, his huge bowl of noodles held in both hands. It smells great. “Besides, focus on the date for now.”

“This isn’t a date, I just asked you out to the beach to eat some comfort food with me.”

“The very definition of my ideal date,” Tony says, listing, “I was invited, there’s comfort food, we’re both already in our sexy pjs, there’s a beach, I think you’re a great friend and we could be more if you wanted, I’ve got my speaker in case we want some romantic classical music, the sunset will happen soon, what more could I want?”

“We also held hands for ages earlier and you kissed my cheek.” Loki winces, “this is totally a date.”

“Sure is.”

“How did I miss that?”

“If it’s any consolation, I was kidding, but you seem on-board, so… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” Loki confirms.

“Noodles on a beach is actually one of my secret fantasies,” Tony says, deadpan.

“Well,” Loki suggests, also deadpan, “there’s plenty of space under the gazebo.”

“Table is kinda obstructive,” Tony points out.

“Only if you’re not creative,” Loki counters.

Tony wriggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh.

———

Loki twists the last of his noodles and stabs his last carrot on his fork and puts it in his mouth. He looks into Tony’s bowl, and finds he’s actually finished first.

“You’re an even slower eater than me,” Loki notes aloud.

“Am not!” Tony blubbers out through a mouthful of noodles, “I’m just taking my time to savour it.”

Loki hums, and puts an elbow on the table to watch him finish up.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

Tony slurps up the rest of his food. “Well, now that I’m done, kiss?”

“I was thinking we could stand by the shoreline and get our feet wet, maybe walk up and down the beach a bit…”

“I mean, I’d rather walk up and down you,” Tony says, making a show of looking over Loki, who in turn snickers.

“I’m sorry, that was terrible,” Tony laughs, “it’s just, walk on the beach, that’s so freakin romantic, yeah I’m up for that.”

And it’s nice knowing that they can still hang out as friends, even if Loki is admittedly also intent on the kissing part.

They leave their bowls and flip flops in a pile in the sand and walk to the shore together.

Tony’s hand is warm in his as they swing their arms gently and just take in the salty air and talk about things; just facts about themselves and stories about life and things they like.

Loki’s not sure how much time has passed but it’s dark and only the night sky and it’s reflection on the water provide any light when he presses a hand under Tony’s chin to tip his face up so he can kiss him. It’s slow and sweet, and Tony— even though Loki finds it hard to believe in the moment —kisses back.

They pull apart, and everything is irrelevant in the face of the happiness they feel in having found each other, even by chance.

They kiss again; slower, deeper, and with an urgency ill-befitting of the time and space they have available.

———

Day 5

All records of the final entry have been [REDACTED] until further notice to maintain the rating of this fic.

It can be recalled that the [REDACTED] information featured notable involvement of local gazebo space not limited to below, above, and/or against the table, various uses of the excessive counters both halves of the rented space, more than banging on doors, and future plans for the continued entanglement of [REDACTED] leg distribution underneath blankets.

The reader is warned not to attempt searching for and/or to develop any interest in a desire to search for [REDACTED] records in future placements.

(The End.)

#frostiron holiday wishes challenge #frostiron #OMGGGGGGAWD #SO CUTE #SOOOO CUTEEEEEEEE #prompt #fill

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robinrunsfiction · 4 years

Note

Okay but basement gerard being in awe that he can get the reader off with his fingers (female pronouns if thats okay :) )

Experiments

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: Mature (light smut) Requested By: Anon Word Count: ~1900 Author’s Note: I really liked working on this story! Sometimes writing smut can get difficult because I feel like I’m writing the same thing over and over, but this request gave me a different focus

You and Gerard sat on the cool ground next to the pond hidden deep within the park that was halfway between each of your homes. It was where you regularly met up to hang out and pass time together, but when you called him today to see if he was free, you had something specific in mind. You had been chatting happily about a movie that was coming out soon, but now there was a lull in the conversation so you decided this was your chance.

"Hey Gee, can I ask you a question? It's ok if you don't wanna answer," you asked. You couldn't help how the words came out, but they seemed anxious.

Gerard shifted nervously at your sudden change in tone. "Umm, yea, of course."

"What do guys think of girls with no experience, if you know what I mean."

Gerard's mind went blank for a moment before the question registered. "Oh! Umm, I dunno. I mean, I umm don't have much experience either, so I don't pay attention when other guys are talking about stuff like that. They can be kinda gross."

"Oh," you paused, considering the next question on your mind. The real question that you were beyond nervous to ask. "Because I was thinking... ya know how last year I went out with Scott? Well we didn't do anything, umm, under the clothes ya know, and I kinda wanna at least... have a little more experience in that regard before we move into the city for school. So I was wondering if," you drew out the last word, before closing your eyes so you wouldn't see his reaction, "you wanna maybe experiment a little bit? Together?"

When you opened your eyes again and glanced over at Gerard, his cheeks were rosy red, much like your own, and he wore a look of surprise. "Really? Me?"

"Yea, I trust you Gee. We've been friends for a long time and we don't have to go very far if you don't want and if not, that's ok -"

"I'd love to," he said, cutting you off. "I mean, I'm happy to help," he smiled nervously. "Sooo, when do you wanna start?"

You swallowed hard. You would climb in his lap and start making out with him immediately, but that would make your feelings for him obvious, and you wanted to keep those separate. You liked Gee, a lot, but you were pushing those feelings aside for the purposes of this endeavor. "Whenever," you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant glancing up at him.

He nodded and then started to lean in. Your breath caught in your chest as your lips met his. They were as soft as you'd imagined as they moved against yours. Then one of his hands was cupping your cheek, before sliding back to run through your hair. You leaned into him, clutching at his t-shirt, soft from years of wear. You decided to take things further as you deepened the kiss, as your tongues moved against each other. Your head was spinning as his other hand found your bare knee.

Suddenly you heard a noise in the distance, and even through your lust-filled haze, you realized people were coming up the path toward where you were. You pulled back and smiled at Gerard, who looked equal parts stunned and delighted as a family walked by on the path behind you.

"Wow, I, umm," he breathed as he ran his hand through his hair.

"So far so good," you smiled.

"Yea, do you wanna go someplace less... public?"

"My parents are home. Shit, I forgot I told my mom I'd be home for dinner tonight," you said glancing at your watch.

"Do you wanna come over to my place after?" Gerard offered.

You smiled as you tucked your hair behind your ear. "Yea, sure," you nodded.

"Cool," he replied, running his hand through his hair.

"Ok, I'll see you soon," you said getting up and Gerard scrambled to his feet as well.

You and Gerard walked back to the park entrance in silence, your hands brushing occasionally, but you weren’t sure you wanted to grab his hand. You didn’t want to scare him off. Before splitting off and going your separate ways, you gave him a hug and headed home, your heart pounding in anticipation of the rest of the night.

When you got home, you tried not to rush through dinner with your family before running up to your room to change. When you went to prom the previous year with your boyfriend at the time, you bought a cute lace bra and panty set, but since things didn't go the way you'd planned, they remained unappreciated in your drawer. You pulled your shorts back on, and threw on a zip front hoodie. You took a moment to check yourself in the mirror before rushing to Gerard’s house.

You went around the back door like usual and rocked back on your heels as you waited anxiously for Gerard to let you in. It felt like forever when he finally opened the door, hair still damp, as he had apparently taken a shower.

“Hey, come in,” he greeted you, nerves evident in his voice as you followed him into his room. He shut the door behind you as you stood a few feet apart, unsure who should make the first move.

“Soo-” you started.

“(YN) can I tell you something before we go any further?” Gerard cut you off.

“Yea, of course, anything,” you replied.

“I just want you to know, I just wanna be honest… I really like you (YN), as more than a friend. If that complicates things and you wanna go, that’s ok.”

A smile broke out across your face. “That’s more than ok Gee. I… umm... the reason I asked you to do this with me was because I trust you and I like you too. I was trying to tell myself that I could pretend I didn’t have these feelings, but if there’s no reason to pretend I don’t, then...” you shrugged.

In an instant Gerard closed the distance between you, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. When you pulled back for air you took a step back and unzipped your sweatshirt, letting it fall off your shoulders and onto the floor.

Gerard looked awestruck as he took a step toward you, tentatively placing his hands on your bare waist. “You’re so beautiful (YN),” he said softly.

“Thanks Gee,” you smiled, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Do you wanna,” he nodded toward his bed.

“Yea, sure,” you said, taking his hand and walking over, climbing onto the Star Wars sheets. He climbed in over you as your lips reconnected. You laid back as he caressed your side, seemingly unable to get enough of the feeling of your soft skin.

He pulled back and looked up at you. “Can I?” He asked, nodding toward your chest.

“Yea,” you breathed, as his hand connected with the lace material of your bra. His touch was gentle and he started to kiss on your neck. “Gee you’re making me feel so good,” you murmured.

“Good,” he said against your neck as he continued to press kisses against it.

“You can umm,” you said nodding down, and Gerard took the hint, reaching behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. He fumbled with it for a moment before it came loose and you discarded the garment.

“Shit,” he said under his breath. “Sorry, you’re just so beautiful, it’s… wow,” he said with a goofy smile, making you laugh.

“Again, you sure know how to make me feel good,” you smiled.

"That's all I wanna do. I wanna make my girl feel good," he said before leaning in to kiss you again.

Your mind was spinning again. 'My girl' he said. He called you his girl. You were so happy, you couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

Eventually his hand ran down your body to your hip. Desire and excitement was running through you, but this move made you nervous.

"Hey Gee," you said breathlessly. "I'm not ready to go all the way, but if you wanna… use your hands," you trailed off.

He looked up at you, and he smiled. "Yea, I can do that."

He sat back and you watched as he carefully unbuttoned and unzipped your shorts, as if he was unwrapping a present on his birthday. You lifted your hips as he slid the denim material down your legs, and he dropped them somewhere near your bra as he took in the sight of you laying in his bed, only in your underwear.

He smiled as he laid his body over yours, his thigh rutting between yours, and your hips moved against it, seeking friction. You and Gee made out like this for a while before he trailed his kisses down your neck and his hand found your hip again.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

You nodded. "Yea, really sure."

As he traced the skin just above the waistband with his fingers, you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips. He looked up at you wide eyed as you started to blush furiously. But then he slid his hand under the waistband and ran his fingers gently between your legs. Tentatively he let one finger trail down and then it dipped slowly into you.

You let out another gasp and Gerard's eyes were back on you. "Are you ok? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no, please don't stop," you moaned.

He started to move his finger in and out as your legs spread further apart. You glanced down and saw Gerard was watching your reaction. Then you felt a second finger pressing in and you covered your mouth with your hand as another moan escaped your lips. Then after pumping in and out a few times, he brought his thumb to massage against your clit and your back arched off the bed.

You had never felt this good from head to toe before, like every part of you was electrified. You had your eyes closed and bit your lip as the realization that it was Gerard, your friend, the guy you liked more than anyone else in the world, that was making you feel this way. Not much longer your back arched again as you came around his fingers, moaning his name.

As you opened your eyes, you glanced down at Gerard. He was looking up at you awestruck. "Gee that was incredible," you panted. "I've never felt like that before."

"Really?" He asked as if he almost didn't believe it.

"Yea," you nodded excitedly as he shifted up and kissed you again. He wrapped his arms around you rested your head against his chest. You both laid silently, enjoying the moment together.

"Gee?" You asked softly.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"Did you mean it when you called me your girl?"

He looked at you adoringly and nodded. "Yea, I mean, if you wanna be?"

You nodded back. "Yea, I really do."

He replied simply by leaning in and kissing you deeply, a smile on both of your faces.

#gerard way x reader #basement gee x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fanfic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fan fiction #Anon

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stevenismyboy · 4 years

Text

You Belong Among The Stars.

a/n: inspired by a post written by @jxnehxpper (check her work out because it’s incredible!!!) from a few weeks ago, I just couldn't resist not writing about Steve as Han Solo! I haven't been here long enough, but I hope you still enjoy my work. The day after tomorrow, or in two days' time I should publish the next part of To All The Boys I Loved Before au- who's excited? I certainly am!

summary: This year, Steve is dressing up as a famous Star Wars smuggler for Halloween. But he didn't expect to meet a princess on his way. You can find my Masterlist here.

Steve loved Halloween. As soon as the leaves on the trees started to turn red, yellow and orange instead of green, he and Dustin just couldn't wait for it. Robin didn't share their admiration, although she was happy to join in with the costumes and go for a trick or treat in the evening. Steve wanted that night so badly. He wanted to be someone else for one night. Somebody special.

“Give me that” the guy sighed annoyed. Dustin reluctantly gave him a can of hairspray. Steve looked at himself in the mirror and put his lips in a beak, still dissatisfied with the effect. “You look good, Your Majesty. I've got to look, too. Don't be selfish!” Dustin sighed, trying to rip the can out of his hands. Steve just raised his hand up so his friend couldn't reach it. “Come on, that's not fair!”

“You, my little friend, are just going to ask the old ladies for candy. And I'm going hunting to a distant galaxy today, inhabited by the hottest girls on the planet Hawkins. You don't need a hairstyle from space” Steve snorted.

“Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I have to look worse. Chewbacca had a great haircut. I'm not gonna let your tall ego ruin my image” the guy answered and finally ripped out his can. His costume looked fantastic. The kid worked on it so long, Steve was impressed. The fake fur was sewn by Claudia to his brown sweatshirt and even darker pants. Dustin worked almost all evening to attach his eyebrows and beard, but Robin and Steve assured him that what he had was enough.

It was Steve who came up with the idea for their costumes. He had to admit that he surprised himself year after year. His creativity was getting higher and higher. When he was recently moving cassettes with movies on the shelf with the most watched productions, he came across Star Wars and simply couldn't resist. He found and ironed a white shirt, bought a brown vest for a few dollars, and completed the whole thing with tall shoes, waving a plastic fake gun in his hands. Everyone will know who he is. A smuggler. Casanova of the Milky Way. Han Solo.

“First of all, you look terrible enough for a creature from outer space. And second, who do you want to impress today? You've already found your Suzie” Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Excuse me? Just because I have a girlfriend doesn't mean I'll go to Halloween unprepared. That would be unprofessional, and you, Steven Harrington, should know that of all the people you know, I am the least unprofessional. I could have been Luke, but you insisted I have to be Chewie, so bite your tongue and wait for me at the Millennium Falcon”.

“Yes, Captain” Steve saluted a friend and left the bathroom. His parents weren't home as usual. Why? To ruin his night?

Robin was already waiting downstairs. She was chewing the gum lazy looking at his childhood photos in frames, listening to the wind howling outside. She was wearing jeans, a white checked shirt and a red vest, much more spacious than the one Steve had. She looked at him surprised and made a gum balloon that broke with a loud crack.

“I have to admit that... I didn't expect you to look so good. And believe that it was supposed to be a compliment”she added quickly when Steve made a pirouette to present herself to her. “You really liked that movie so much?” Steve wrinkled his nose, pointing to her outfit. “Well, I don't remember much of it, given that I was completely high, but I had no other idea, and time was running out. Besides, I didn't spend millions on it. Marty Mcfly is fully satisfied with me” his friend shrugged her shoulders. True, she remembered little of "Back to the Future", but so what? She remembered that she liked it. Before she stared at the lights on the ceiling so long that she threw up in the bathroom.

“I gave you an idea. Then you disagreed” Steve squinted, pretending to be offended, though in a way it was. He's been dreaming about this day for months. He was supposed to be Han Solo, Dustin Chewbacca (though he would only spend two or three hours with him and Robin) and his friend was supposed to be Leia. But she didn't even want to hear about it.

“I'll say again for the hundredth time, dingus. I don't want to and I will never dress up as a princess”. “Did you ever watch that movie? She's great! She's damn brave, sarcastic, and I guess I don't have to add that she's super hot. Don't you see the resemblance?” Steve raised one eyebrow. Robin sighined, threw herself on the couch, looking out the window.

“You're only talking like that to convince me. My costume is ready, and Leia is absolutely not persuading me. Do you have any idea how many chicks can dress up like her today? A whole lot. You'll be able to dress up in them as much as you like. So leave me alone and accept that today you're playing a duo instead of a trio” she said with her hands behind her head. Steve refrained from commenting, hearing Dustin's feet rumble on the stairs. The boy ran to them with a perfectly laid out head, smiling from ear to ear.

“Ready for the most scary night of the year?” he asked, carrying his plastic gun and falling out before anyone could stop him.

After Steve and Robin made sure that Dustin would reach his friends safely and his sugar level would not exceed the norm, Steve took them both to the party he had been waiting for so long. Fortunately, Tina didn't organize it. He would have had the resistance to go to the bathroom to relive the same experience as last year. The host was some Nick (he didn't even know who hewas) but Robin made sure that he was a great guy and everyone who will be there would make sure that they don't forget that night for the rest of their lives.

They went through the crowd of sweaty teenagers, heading to the kitchen to find alcohol. Robin's blue eyes were wandering around the people, looking for a girl who has been visiting her at work quite often lately. Steve was looking around too. He was looking for smiling ladies, shiny eyes, long hair. He wanted to feel different today. He wanted to feel as if he could still please someone else. As a smuggler, he wanted to steal someone's heart today. Not for one night. Maybe for longer.

“Steve! Here!” Nancy waved at him, standing by the fireplace. Robin ran up to her first to say hi. The girl was wearing a short green dress and cardboard wings, painted with paint and glitter that was falling under her feet. She looked like a real forest fairy. Jonathan chose no costume, but was wearing a green shirt that matched his girlfriend's outfit. Steve smiled, nodding his head at him.

“You look incredible! Steve... I wouldn't expect you to be a smuggler today, Nancy smiled, drinking a sip of juice from her mug. Apparently after the last time she said she wouldn't touch alcohol on Halloween. “Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far, away...” Jonathan quoted the movie, giving Steve a hand. The boy shooked it, scratching his neck. A couple of people had already managed to hang their eyes on him and, frankly, he didn't expect it to embarrass him. He used to get used to the looks. Now, they made him feel warm.

All of a sudden, Robin's eyes were shining. She saw the blackness of a girl's hair, who had recently occupied her thoughts. She banged up and put her hand on Nancy's shoulder, apologizing to her. “You'll have to forgive me for a moment. I have to... move in time” she smiled at one corner of her mouth and rushed into the crowd so she wouldn't lose her chosen one. Steve smiled at her on the run and went into the crowd himself to dance. Wanting to dance like he hadn't danced in a long time, so that he could enjoy the music with all his heart and that he was among strangers for whom he was now only a smuggler.

At the same time, you too are stuck in a crowd of people. The pride in your costume began to splash like a soap bubble. The long, white dress got tangled under your feet, the long sleeves made you hot. It's good that the belt kept the fabric at the waist and didn't slip lower than it should. Instead of two princess's chignons on both sides of your head, you tied ordinary ponies, hoping that everyone would still know who you are today.

As you were fixing your make up on the couch, the mascara fell out of your hand, making your fingers black. All you wanted was to get into the bathroom to wash your fingers and accidentally not touch the dress. The princess is not allowed to walk in dirty clothes. But a party is always a party. A moment of inattention was enough for someone to step on a piece of your dress. You lost your balance by falling into a crowd of people, getting ready to meet the floor.

But that didn't happen. Someone's strong shoulders woven around your waist to protect you from falling. The ponies just swirled around your face, and when you took them aside, your heart stopped.

The universe has stopped for a moment. The planets stopped circulating, the stars surely glowed brighter. Steve couldn't believe his eyes. One moment he danced as if it was the last night of his life, and the next he held Princess Leia in his arms. You were speechless. The real, living Han Solo embraced you with no intention of taking his hands off you.

“I... um... my hands are dirty” you said the first thing that came to your mind, hitting yourself in your head for this stupid sentence. “My hands are dirty, too” Steve said immediately, and then he closed his eyes from embarrassment. “I mean... No, they're not, you don't have to worry about the dress, but it's a quote... That's what Han Solo said to Leia when... I just wanted...”. “I understand” you said it with a wide smile. Steve relaxed. He still didn't take his hands, but at least he stopped feeling the burning shame. “Well, if you know the movie so well, what did Han Solo say later?”

“I think... I think he asked 'what are you afraid of?’” Steve guessed, squinting his dark eyes a little. “Afraid?” you repeated amused again, not believing in your own happiness. Someone who knew Star Wars lines by heart, someone who was dressed up as Han Solo, someone who looked amazingly charming saved you from falling? No way.

“You're trembling” Steve squinted, continuing to quote. Maybe he was even a little right. You got goosebumps out of your nerves, although just a moment ago, the long sleeves were keeping the heat. “I'm not trembling” your fingers went to his vest. You forgot they could leave ink streaks.

“You like me because I'm a scoundrel. There aren't enough scoundrels in your life” Steve smiled even wider. “I happen to like nice men”. “I'm a nice man” he said it clearly. If he have to, he'll convince you to spend the evening with him. That he won't do anything to upset or disappoint you. He didn't even have to try. You already believed him.

“Well, let's see how well you're dancing” you're smiling, giving him a hand, completely forgetting the traces of the mascara. Steve didn't even care about that. He was led by the princess to the middle of the dance floor and when she held his hand he could swear that although he was in the middle of the house, he saw the stars in front of his eyes.

Taglist: @mochminnie @quen1054 @krazykatkay456 @sydzygy @ghostineleven @the-almond-dinger @l0ve-0f-my-life

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #dustin henderson #dustin henderson imagine #robin buckley #robin buckley imagine #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler imagine

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stories-sometimes · 5 years

Text

Party Blues

Peter Parker x Reader

Set post Homecoming, but pre Infinity War. Characters aged up to 18.

Summary: Peter saves a friend after she gets into some trouble with a guy at a party.

Warnings: Drug misuse, attempted sexual assault

Word Count: 3053

Masterlist

He was sitting at the back of the chemistry class, secretly working on an upgraded version of the web fluid, one that would work better with all the new technology in his suit. He’d been there for a while before the class started, easier to hide his work. Unbeknown to him someone else walked in early.

“Boo!” She startled him, causing him to drop the test tube back into the drawer, he cringed knowing how long it would take him to clean that up later. “Sorry about that,” she said, clearly having heard the smashed glass. “You just seemed so distracted and I thought that scaring you would be the best ‘earth to Peter’ thing to do.” She rambled. Peter couldn’t help but smile at her, she was the most gorgeous girl he’d ever had the pleasure of setting his eyes on. Despite all the popularity and attention that followed her since high school began she’d always held onto her lifelong friendship with him. “So, what were you working on?”

“End-of-year project.” He quickly lied, “but I want to keep it a secret, surprise everyone.” She nodded her head, still slightly suspicious. Soon other students trickled in, including the new kid Aaron. He was the guy all the girls had their eyes on. The typical bad boy, the kind no one’s mother would approve but people would do anything to catch his eye even for a second. He was more often found smoking behind the school building than caught in a classroom. Yet here he was, in the chemistry lab, early. It was immediately obvious to Peter why he’d arrived at this time, she was in this class, and she was the one he tried to pursue.

“Hey.” He said to her, flashing his signature, dazzling smile. She seemed mostly unfazed by this, unlike many people’s reactions to him, still she joined into his conversation.

“Hey, look at you, actually in a lesson. This is called a classroom by the way, wasn’t sure if you knew.” She joked, he chuckled softly, eyes roaming over her.

“Yeah, thought I check out what all the fuss was about. Haven’t figured it out yet, but maybe I’ll stay by your side and you could fill me in.” He continued to flirt.

“Well I can at least promise you’ll learn something. There’s a free space next to me and Peter, there’s meant to be a seating plan but I think sir will be too focused on the fact that you’re here to really care.”

“Sounds good to me.” Aaron agreed, slinging his bag on the empty desk space.

“You know Peter right.” She said, dragging to brunette into the conversation, previously he’d just been listening in, attempting to drown out the painfully clear flirting. Suddenly he felt more alert, always ready to chat with her. He smiled at Aaron but was quickly ignores, the soft smiles he was giving her turned to the harsher gaze he usually received from the popular kids - this caused him to shrink back down. However, that look soon turned more malicious.

“Penis Parker, I’ve heard of you.” He laughed cruelly. She turned and lightly hit Aaron on the chest as a warning.

“Glad to know that’s my reputation.” Peter mumbled.

“You really think that’s funny.” She scolded him.

“Kinda.” She simply rolled her eyes at him. “Alright, alright I’m sorry, I was being immature. Hi Peter, nice to meet you.” He greeted Peter, face remaining approachable until she looked away, then it dropped back to his original expression.

That was how the rest of the lesson went, Aaron flirted, she’d try to include Peter in the chat and he’d quickly get shut down. Well that was how lots of conversations with her and one of her friends went for Peter. Luckily for him, this lesson (and school day) was soon over and he would go on his patrol, forget about his problems in his real life for a while. The bell blared out and students poured out of the classroom.

“Hey, wanna walk home with me?” She asked Peter before he could escape the room. They’d grown up living on the same floor of their apartment block, neither families had much money so the two of them shared a far amount of their possessions with one another, putting together their small collections of toys when they had play dates when they were younger. Even now Peter swore every so often he’d see her wearing one of his old sweatshirts. In middle school they would sit for hours studying together so they could get in Midtown, then ate pizzas and marathoned Star Wars to celebrate when they did. Over that summer Peter witnessed first hand her transformation. He’d always thought she was pretty, now he saw her as completely and utterly stunning. She’d found some hidden away thrift store in a forgotten corner of Queens and got a job there, ditched her old tops and awkward fitting jeans for a more fashionable wardrobe. She easily made new friends in high school, whereas Peter remained on the shadows, only really having Ned as a friend. Still she didn’t completely abandon him, she’d still sit and study, or join in some overly nerdy hangout with Peter and Ned.

“Well, I was..” Peter began to answer her.

“Come on, we haven’t hung out together in ages.” She said, her eyes practically begged him. And there was no way he could say no to that, patrolling could wait.

“Alright fine, you’ve convinced me.” He replied, pretending to accept reluctantly. She pulled Peter in for a tight hug and he felt his cheeks burn.

“Thank God, I feel like I barely get to see you anymore.” They walked home, reminiscing about old memories, eventually they reached their floor. “You going to Flash’s party tonight?” She asked. Peter began to debate in his head, on the one hand it would be good for him to relax a bit, and she obviously wanted him to go, but on the other hand, he’d have to patrol, plus it was Flash throwing the party.

“I’m not sure if I can, I’ve got the Stark Internship.” Peter settled on.

“Really, it feels like that’s all you’re doing. Do you actually have to go tonight?”

“Well, not exactly,” he stuttered out, she raised her eyebrow, “but they might need me.” Peter said, avoiding eye contact with her, too worried he’d give in instantly.

“Can’t you come for a bit, bail if they actually need you.” She replied, “It’ll be fun, have a drink or two, let loose, I can get you a lift there. I promise I’ll save you a dance.” At that his head perked up excitedly, she really had him wrapped around her finger.

“Okay I’ll come.” She grinned at him, the same annoyingly cute yet smug look she always pull when she got her way.

“I’ll meet you in your apartment at 9.” She kissed him on the cheek before turning to enter her own apartment. Peter stood outside with a dopey grin on his face, starstruck for a while.

A few hours later Peter heard a knock at his door. May answered it, leaving Peter alone to mentally prepare himself for a little longer.

“Hey sweetie, I haven’t seen you ages.” He heard May say from the lounge.

“I know, Peter’s just been so busy with the internship he hasn’t had any time to hang out.”

“Tell me about it, it’s like that damn internship is all he does nowadays.” Peter joined the two of them, his jaw dropping at the sight of her. The outfit was casual enough, just very tight, showing off every curve. He tried to suppress the dirtier thoughts before coughing to gain the two women’s attention. “There you are, so how are you getting to the party?”

“My friend Aaron’s giving us a lift.” She responded.

“Alright them,” May turned to address Peter, “I’m visiting Sue tonight, so I won’t be back until lunchtime tomorrow, just text me to let me know you’re home safe.”

“I will.” Peter nodded, letting May pull him in for a hug.

“And good luck with her.” My whispered to him, giving a shocked Peter a sly wink as she moved away.

“You ready?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He quickly took it. She lead him downstairs and out to Aaron’s car. She slipped into the passenger seat leaving Peter alone in the back.

“Didn’t think he’d actually show.” Aaron said upon seeing Peter, his disdain clear.

“Well he did, now be nice.” She warned him. Finally they arrived at the party, she offered Peter her arm as they walked into the party. It wasn’t long before she was whisked away by some blonde girl from their English class. And that’s what Peter had feared, she tries to spend time with him, but it was hard not to get distracted by the flood of people grabbing her attention.

“Back off Parker.” He heard Aaron snarl in his ear. Instinctively Peter shrank away from his voice, sliding to the back of the room to avoid the popular group forming in the centre of the room. He grabbed a drink from the kitchen before settling on a coach, watching Aaron’s arm wrapped around her, full of jealousy. He remained seated there until he heard his phone buzz, alerting him of a robbery a couple of blocks down from here. Luckily for Peter, he had his suit on underneath his clothes. He took off, feeling Aaron’s eyes following him, he could sense the arrogant look on his face.

It was an easy enough to stop, it was obvious they were novice thieves. Soon enough they were stopped and the police were on the scene and could take over. Peter thought about just going home, dropping her a text pretending he’d felt ill, needed to go home. However he decided to go back to the party, holding out hope for that dance. Once he got there me was meet with the disappointing sight of Aaron passing her a drink, the two were sat outside, in a more secluded place of the party. He was still in his suit, stuck to the house wall. Peter knew it was wrong, creepy even, he should leave her alone to enjoy a night with a guy Peter thought she liked. But he didn’t, he couldn’t, he felt both physically and emotionally stuck in that position on the bricks. She started to grow drowsier as she finished her drink, that sparked Peter’s concern. He watched Aaron lean down to kiss her. Peter stayed there, trusting that guy less and less every second.

“No, I feel weird, I can’t do this right now.” Peter heard her whimper whilst weakly attempting to shrug him off, “Aaron stop, something’s not right.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, just relax.” The boy said as he moved his hand under her shirt. That was when Peter snapped. He shot out a web, attaching itself to Aaron’s wrist and forcibly removing him from her. “What the hell, what’s your problem.” Aaron shouted.

“What’s my fucking problem,” Peter screamed back, more furiously then he could ever remember being, “She said stop you piece of shit.” He saw red, not in control of the punches he was sending the boy’s way. He trapped Aaron in webs, tipping them off the authorities. As soon as he’d done that he ran over to check on her. She was quickly losing consciousness.

“Hey, hey, come on you need to stay awake. I need to get you home.”

“No I can’t go, I need to find Peter, he can help me.” She slurred out her words. He felt slightly guilty at the swell of pride at the mention of his name.

“I know you want to find your friend,” Peter said, trying to keep his identity secret, “but you need to go home.”

“Can you take me to Peter’s? Please Spiderman.” She mumbled, eyelids feeling increasingly more heavy.

“Yeah I’ll take you to Peter’s.” She smiled. Peter held tightly to her tired body as he swung back to his apartment. “Peter’s in the apartment, I’ll just go get him.” He said, setting her down on the couch, running into his room to change out of his suit as fast as possible. He grabbed a couple items of his clothing for her as well before carrying her back into his room. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked, back to being her friend rather than Spiderman.

“Heavy, I can’t move properly.” Peter grew madder, Aaron had fucking drugged her.

“You’re gonna be okay, I promise, can you change yourself?” Peter asked, holding up the pile he pulled from his closet.

“No, can you help me?” She shook her head, sinking further into the bed. Peter blushed at the thought, nodding slowly as he began to undress her. He tried to be as respectful, avoiding looking at her the best he could when she was half-dressed. She looked so small and vulnerable, curled up on the coach in too big clothes, dazed, completely out of it at this point.

“Goodnight.” He whispered as he wrapped a blanket over her body.

“Stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” She teared up slightly. That broke Peter, watching someone he cared about so much in this position. He curled up next to her, placing his arm over her sleeping body, almost as his way of protecting her from anymore hardships she’d have to face from this world. He slipped into slumber soon after he knew she was resting safely. Morning rolled around and Peter was up before her, he moved into the kitchen, grabbing water and aspirin in case she needed it, as well as started to scramble at few eggs for breakfast. She woke feeling tense when she felt she wasn’t in her own bed. Her memory of last night was foggy at best, the last thing she remembered was going outside for a drink with Aaron, then it was all a blur from then on out. She relaxed when she saw it was Peter’s room, she’d probably just slept over in his room like they did when he was younger. ‘But what if they hooked up?’ She thought to herself panicking slightly, not that she’d mind much, she’s done much worse drunk. However if they did hook up she’d liked to have remembered it. Slowly she dragged herself out of the bed, her limbs felt heavier than usual. She brushed it off, walking into the kitchen.

“Morning.” She greeted him hoarsely.

“Hey, how you feeling?” Peter responded sounding concerned as he offered her the painkiller.

“Not great, think I drank too much.” She tried to joke. “Did we, you know … last night?” She asked awkwardly, unsure how to bring up the topic.

“No, no.” He reassured her, “how much do you remember from last night?”

“I don’t know, I went outside for a drink with Aaron,” She didn’t miss how Peter’s jaw clenched at the mention of his name, “then it’s kinda hazy after that. Why, do you know what happened?”

Peter sighed before starting, “Aaron slipped something into your drink, tried to sleep with you.”

“What?”

“He drugged you, didn’t care when you told him to stop, luckily someone stepped in before he could get too far.” His voice getting angrier by the minute. Her heart dropped to her stomach, why had she trusted him?

“God I feel so stupid, my gut told me he was bad and I just ignored it.”

“No, no, this is not your fault. You were trying to be friendly and he took advantage of that. You are not to blame in this, this is all on that asshole.” Still she looked crestfallen.

“Yeah I know.” She sighed, moving closer towards Peter, seeking comfort in his arms. He hugged her tightly, stroking her hair as she let out a few sobs. “I’m sorry.” She sniffled, wiping away the tears.

“Stop, it’s fine.” She let out a smile.

“I know, it’s just, I can’t believe that happened. I knew he wasn’t the best guy in the world, but I didn’t think he was that bad.”

“I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t get away with this.”

“You sure, the police aren’t always reliable. His family’s rich, they can fix all his nasty little problems.” She spat out.

“I’ve got some pull with some pretty powerful people.” She cocked her head to the side, an adorable sign of confusion on her part, “I’ve been doing well with the Stark Internship, I could probably pull a favour Mr Stark.”

“You’d really do that for me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She lay her head down on his chest, grinning slightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ into his shirt.

“I miss you.” She confessed.

“I’m here right now.” He said confused.

“No I mean hanging out together, sitting together at lunch. I feel like unless I come to you at school, you avoid me.”

“You know how it is with some of your friends, I’m not exactly their usual type. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them didn’t know who I was. I want to talk to you, but every time I try to someone will butt me out of the conversation.”

“I don’t like lots of them, it’s just a little rude to tell ‘em to fuck off. But if I introduce you to the nice ones I’m sure you’d get along great.”

“I’d like that. I care about you a lot, like a crazy amount. And if that would make you happy, of course I’ll do it.” He said, trying to keep up the lighter mood.

“I think I met Spiderman last night. I vaguely remember his suit and being swung through the city.”

“Wow, he did drop you off here.”

“He was nice, reminded me of you.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, your always making sure I’m safe and happy. Whenever I’m with you I feel like I’m with someone amazing, being saved by a superhero.” Peter’s heart swelled, he was always insecure that people preferred his alter ego, that the only time he could be the hero he was when he had the mask on. But she helped Peter feel that he himself was worth enough. He didn’t need the suit.

“I love you Peter Parker.”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x original character #peter parker x reader #marvel fic

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sroloc--elbisivni · 5 years

Text

It’s been three months since my dad died.

I think about him every day. Never in the same way twice. Sometimes it’s like last night, where I started remembering the way he grinned and the way he made salmon and how much I miss him and start crying into my pillow. Sometimes it’s like today, where I feel numb and dull and empty until I realize it’s been a quarter of a year and I’m not going to do anything for the rest of my life but get further and further away from him, and the person I was when I knew him. And then I start crying on a plywood platform thirty feet off the ground at work.

I’ve been working a lot this week. This whole semester, really. I’ve wanted to be busy. I’ve wanted to not think about things. And I hate it, because I know that thinking about him is one of the only ways he’ll get fully remembered, and I’m too afraid of getting lost in missing him, and I need to move on and be in the world and I don’t always want to.

But the further away I get, the more I lose. So let me tell you about my dad.

‘You’ being, the general world I guess. You don’t need to read this. I just need to say it. Pretend I can shout at the world “A GOOD MAN IS DEAD” and have it matter.

My dad was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota, and he had the state in his bones—one time I needed to know what city for paperwork, and I texted him to ask if it was Fargo, and he said “No, the other big eastern city.” He understood blizzards and thunderstorms and dressing for the cold, and he taught them to my brother and me even though we were growing up in coastal California, where only one of those happened, and then rarely.

He was brilliant. If you want to know anything about my dad, it was that he was brilliant, and he was kind, and he was loving. He also had several small strokes at the end of his life that meant he didn’t remember or retain things well, and that he got more irritable, and reclusive, and locked into routine. We didn’t know about the smaller strokes until a month before the one that would kill him. Just that he was getting more distant.

My dad was prickly at the oddest times, and he had a temper, and he hated telemarketers, and bad drivers. He lashed out when he got mad and got sulky when you lashed back. He could snipe, and pick at things you didn’t even realize you were sore about, and didn’t know how to listen to a problem without trying to fix it.

He was good at fixing problems. He would take apart a toaster to fish out a burnt piece of bread, and study up on the riding lawnmower engine and go at the engine over and over again, and learned like he breathed. He wanted to write a book about learning, about the way we think and how it actually works, and what thinking is and what learning is and therefore what teaching should be. He believed that learning was just patterns of action. He and my mother literally wrote a book on how to teach in a way that built things up, rather than trying to pick at people’s behavior until they did what you wanted.

My dad was a teacher. He was a wonderful teacher. He taught me how to ride a bike, and drive a car, even when I was yelling at him, and he taught me how mean, median, and mode worked for a third grade science project. He helped talk me through algebra, and fractions, and division. He tried to teach me editing, but that went badly, because I was fourteen and had decided I knew what was best, and he never knew how to let things he cared about go.

He was a teacher for all of his adult life, even though he only ended up in the teacher’s program at his college because he took the RA’s keys after the RA left them lying around and he thought that was irresponsible, and the authority in charge of his punishment was his mother’s friend and also the Dean of Education. He stayed in the education program at the University of North Dakota for the next several years, helped found the school’s first no-hazing fraternity, found a skull with some friends at an archaeological dig site and held onto it for a couple years, went nocturnal for a while, and wrote his dissertation on the way we learn and the history of education. He talked about cave paintings, as early human abstract thought, but he didn’t get to see them until last year, when we went to France. My brother and I had to make sure he didn’t fall, as we went down into the cave, because it was rough and sloping and he was unsteady on feet he couldn’t quite feel anymore.

My dad had diabetes. My dad loved food. By the end of his life, he had lost feeling almost all the way to his knees, and insulin was taking up more room in our fridge than the eggs and milk put together. He was a great believer in the power of ice cream, as a special treat or just to hide in the fridge for when you wanted a taste. His favorite food that I baked was chocolate chip cookies. I made them with his mom’s recipe. Every time i was baking, he’d walk by and try to steal a piece. He stole popcorn every time we made some, too. Called it a ‘popcorn tax’. He used food as a love language, which made it awkward every time you ended up stopping on the way home for dinner without him, on a night he was cooking. He loved going out to eat, and would always talk to the waiter. He would always talk to anyone, really. More than the rest of us would like. My brother and i would always complain that he didn’t have to tell people our whole story, that they didn’t care. But he cared, and sometimes strangers did too, and sometimes they became friends.

My dad loved having friends. He loved knowing people, and talking to them, and learning from them and teaching them. He loved people, but had the misfortune of marrying an introvert and fathering two more. He was the popular kid in high school, on the football team and the newspaper. It was a Catholic high school—he was a Catholic until college, and then he started asking a lot of questions and never really went back. But he remembered all the theory, and all the questions, and all the things they tried to answer, and he could tell you about them if you wanted to know. My mom remembers when he met her aunt for the first time, a former nun, and they spent a good hour debating the finer points of something she couldn’t understand and barely remembered about the Holy Stations. He was good at that, at making you feel in every conversation that he was looking right at you, and interested in what he saw.

He got his doctorate in education, moved to Colorado, learned to ski, learned to parallel park—at 38, something I never failed to bring up when he was trying to teach me to drive—got married, became a step-father, started a charter school, had a wonderful couple of years teaching things the way he felt people would learn them, worked a paper route to try and keep it going, closed the school, dressed his stepkids up as Jawas for Halloween, got divorced—not necessarily in that order. I wish I’d asked my dad more about this part of his life. All I have are unconnected stories. Eventually he went back to North Dakota, and met my mom, and they spent the rest of his life together as “itinerant academics,” trading off who found a job at another university when they wanted to move. They got married at a courthouse two days before Christmas, because my dad needed health insurance and Mercury was going into retrograde. They had a kid in St. Paul and another in Tacoma. They were progressive educators, at a time when that wasn’t a comfortable thing to be in the Northern Midwest, and they made the giraffe their mascot because they kept ‘sticking their necks out’. I didn’t really appreciate that my parents were rebels against a system until I found out that in his first year of teaching, my dad and his friend had adjoining classrooms, and they came in with sledgehammers one weekend and knocked down the wall so they could have a big open classroom.

I found that out at his funeral. So many people my parents know are scattered all over the country, which is great for road trips and hard for gathering. They sent stories instead.

My dad played the guitar, and he sang in his first year of college—at a Catholic school choir, before he transferred, and the Beach Boys on the bus. He loved the Grateful Dead, and Jimmy Buffet, and the Eagles, and Peter Paul and Mary, and the Kingston Trio, and Bob Dylan, and he loved singing along in the car and dancing along in the kitchen, shuffle-step bouncing to the beat. He wore a sweatshirt with the logo of the elementary school my brother and I went to for fifteen years at least, from the time I was in kindergarten to the time he died. I remember it getting covered with cat hair, after the cat followed us on a walk to school too far to turn around and take her home, so he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She shed in terror. He used to carry the little half size cello I started learning on to school and back, every Wednesday and Friday, on his back making jokes about being a Sherpa.

My dad liked jokes. My dad liked to laugh. He loved comic strips, and insisted that my brother and I be allowed to read as many as we wanted. Probably the reason he and I got so very good at reading. I would recite Calvin and Hobbes and Garfield and Baby Blues to him, retelling what I remembered and hoping he’d laugh at the punchline. I’d show him things I found on the Internet when I got older, still trying and trying to make him laugh. I was less and less successful over time.

He was excited about the new Star Wars movies. I remember him telling me from his computer in his office, showing me the article. I remember going to the midnight showing of Episode VII, but not VIII—he couldn’t stay up that late. We saw Rogue One with my uncle, weeks after it came out. My dad was always the one who took us to movies as a kid. He liked stories. He liked to have fun. He liked Terry Pratchett and Robert B Parker novels and books about how the universe worked that took him months to finish. He had a brother, a younger brother, and lost him months after he lost his dad, years after he lost his mom. He saved things from them—the couch he grew up with, half a dozen chairs, boxes and boxes of books and records, a flag on the wall, a breakfront with china in it, all kinds of other keepsakes. My dad liked things. liked to save things. Liked to remember people—and he had a good memory. Up until the end. I came out to him about my gender six times, because he just couldn’t retain it when I told him. and every single time, he was supportive, and careful, and kind, even when he didn’t understand.

He loved our dog so much. He would make her food just so, with kibble and wet food and bacon grease all mixed together and heated in the microwave just so she’d like it. He used to take her on walks, every single day, and took her everywhere in the car with him. They walked on the beach a lot. My dad loved the beach, probably because he lived so far away from it until he was 51. I was born when he was 52.

My dad worried a lot about math education. how people get traumatized by math, and when they become teachers and parents, they pass on that learning math is hard. He worked for UC Berkeley for years, running a program to give engineering students the skills to become teachers. He ran a summer camp in Emeryville for STEM for high schoolers. Or…middle schoolers? I don’t remember anymore. He made these math models, abaci and blocks that showed ones and twos and tens and how numbers fit together into bigger numbers, and then he painted them all the colors of the rainbow so they wouldn’t be scary. So they’d be toys, something fun and beautiful and clever.

There are so many more things, about what a full and beautiful and complicated human he was that I can’t pull to mind or don’t have the words for, but I need you to know he was more than everything I’ve managed to pour here.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the best dad I could have had. He was smart enough to answer all the questions I asked him, and he gave wonderful hugs, and he loved with a heart as big and open as the prairie sky. And I miss him, so, so, much, and it hurts to think of how I’ve been missing him for a long time, as little pieces of him broke off and drifted away when we weren’t noticing.

His name was George W. Gagnon, Junior. People called him ’Sandy’ as a kid to keep him distinct from his dad, because he had blonde hair as a baby. When I was little, it was dark, dark brown on the sides and circling the bald top. In the beginning of July it was a snowy white.

He’s my dad, and he’s gone, and I’ve spent the past three months knowing that I’m never going to go home again, not really. And knowing that ‘family’ is too big and whole a word to fill with what we have left.

I can’t cry in front of other people anymore. And I don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling, or what the world is like now. I just want people to know.

A good man is dead. He loved, and was loved, and laughed, and learned, and ate good food and made bad jokes. And even after writing all of that—I still miss him, and he’s still gone.

#sroloc babbles #grief #Personal crap #my dad

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