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#fortunately peter still turned out to be a cutie
sharkbait-hoohahah · 4 years
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How about another mask-less Spider-Man to start the week off? Went a little creative with the lighting on his suit, but overall I hope it’s to your liking!
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hockeytrashgoblin · 4 years
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Ice Cold ~Part 3
A/N: Hi all! An update tonight and expect one tomorrow too! I’ve been writing like crazy and I really hope you guys are enjoying so far and will in the future too! It gets a little angsty in a few parts. I’m sorry for making Auston a bad guy again. It’s just a character though, I really do like him quite a bit. He’s just the easiest one to make mean. I think it’s how serious he always seems to be. I dunno. I promise to write a cute one of Auston after this is all done and that Max Domi one will also be finished soon I hope! I lost all inspo on that one but I’m getting back into it! Anywho I hope you enjoy this part!
"Hey (y/n)! Wait up!"
"Oh for fuck sake.." I mumbled to myself before turning around. "Hi Peter."
"How have you been? I haven't talked to you in a couple weeks."
"Yeah good, I've been good. Super busy, what with unpacking and getting settled into a new area and all. Work stuff."
"That does sound busy."
"It is."
"Too busy to answer a text?"
"Peter cut it out."
"Alright, alright sorry." He said putting his hands up in surrender. He still had a smirk on his face and it creeped me out. Not the smirk I wanted. I kept walking towards the entrance of the building and he just kept following.
"Can I help you with something?" I asked with an edge in my voice.
"So Nylander huh?"
"What about him?"
"Kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?"
"I guess. What does it matter?"
"I keep having to write articles about you two."
"Okay..sorry?" I had seen the articles. They were disgusting, objectifying me at every turn and insulting William. There had been 3 in the last two weeks following times we had gone on dates.
"Don't be sorry I just want to know are you guys a thing? Are you dating? Fucking? What's the story?"
"What's the story? That's all I am to you right now is your inside scoop of a fucking juicy rumor filled story?"
"What no! That didn't come out right!"
"You know what? You can just go fuck yourself Peter." I opened the door to leave but he grabbed my arm.
"(Y/n) wait-"
"Don't talk to me right now and absolutely do not touch me. Ever." I said ripping my arm from his grip and storming away through the snow to union station. The whole subway ride I just stewed in my anger. Who did Peter think he was? Asking me who I'm fucking or if I'm fucking to write in an article for the world to read. As if it was anyone's business in the first place. It was dark by the time I got off and started my 15 minute walk home. I felt really uneasy though so I took out my phone to make a call.
"Hi sweetheart, on your way home?" William answered on the first ring. I felt more comfortable immediately.
"Hi, yeah I just got off the subway. I felt really uncomfortable though for some reason so I called you to talk while I walk. I hope that's okay?"
"Of course that's okay! I like that I make you comfortable enough that you'd call me."
"You make me feel very comfortable. What's the sound?"
"Come on- wanna say hi!- just let me-"
"It's just, ow fuck, Kasperi."
"Oh tell him hi for me."
"Hi (y/n)! Come visit me!"
"Kas shut up!" I heard a loud thud and then it was quiet. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay. I like him, he's funny."
"He's a fan of you too. He likes that you make me happy."
"You're so sweet. I'm glad I make you happy because you make me happy too."
"That makes me so pleased. Your happiness is most important to me."
"Well you make me happy so just keep doing what you're doing." I said opening my door and locking it behind me.
"You're home now?"
"Yes."
"Did you lock the door?"
"Yes I always do. I don't feel safe without it."
"Good."
"What do you mean good?" It was quiet except for rustling. "William?"
"Sorry love I'm just worried about you. You had a bad feeling and I just want you to feel okay. Feel safe."
"You make me feel safe. That's why I'm talking to you. I'll probably be fine, I just need to calm down." I said as there was a crash outside my place.
"What was that?"
"You heard that too?"
"Yes what was it?"
"I don't know..something outside. I don't wanna check."
"Good don't. Stay locked in your house. I don't trust this at all."
"William I just heard it again.."
"Would you be okay with me coming over?"
"Yes."
"I'd feel better if you weren't alone."
"Me too."
"I'll be there in a few minutes."
"How?"
"I'm already on my way actually. I'll explain when I get there."
"William there's something at my window." I said, panic rising in my voice.
"I'm coming sweetheart. This is me I'm knocking on the door right now let me in."
"Okay." I looked through the peephole and opened the door for him, quickly locking it behind him. "Hi."
"Hi cutie. Nice pajamas." He said smirking at me.
"Shut up I was getting ready for bed."
"No they're cute, I quite like them."
"Thank you." I said falling into his arms for a hug. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course. I wouldn't just leave you alone like that."
"I was scared.."
"I know (y/n), its okay. I'm here now, nothing will harm you. If anything I will harm someone else."
"So why were you already on your way?"
"You didn't forget about that huh?"
"Nope." I said laughing with him.
"Morgan told me I should. That it would be a smart idea."
"Why?"
"He's..special." William said slowly. 
"Don't suppose you'll elaborate on that?"
"He's what I guess you'd call a psychic almost? Maybe like a fortune teller?"
"So he can see the future is what you're saying?"
"Yes."
"That is pretty special. Is he any good?"
"The best, honestly. I've never met someone who is right about so many future predictions."
"How does it work?"
"I don't really think it's my place to tell you everything about it."
"Just one more question?"
"Depends. Go ahead."
"Is it just broad? Like the whole world."
"He gets stuff like that and also he can focus on a smaller scale and get stuff for a single person."
"Did he see something bad for me?"
"Not necessarily. He saw something bad but knew that I was going to come over and fix it."
"I'm glad you came to fix it." I said hugging him again. "Sorry I'm being so touchy..I'm just relieved and I kinda always do that."
"Don't be sorry my sweet girl." He said holding the sides of my face giving me a kiss on the forehead. "You're tired. Do you want to lay down?"
"Will you come too?"
"That might not be the best idea."
"Please? I won't try anything, I swear. I just want you close by.."
"Hey that's okay. I didn't think you would make advances and even if you did they wouldn't altogether be unwanted. I just didn't want you to feel any pressure. I'll be as close as you want me."
"Come on then." I pulled him by his hand towards my room. I flipped the comforter up and gestured for him to join me in my bed. He laughed and got it with me. I cuddled up into his side. "Is this okay?"
"This is so nice. I love this."
"Okay good."
"How was work today?"
"It was pretty good until the end."
"What happened?"
"Peter stopped me after work."
"I don't like him." William mumbled playing with my hair.
"Uh yeah fucking me neither."
"What did he want?"
"He's been writing articles about us and wanted me to give him the exclusive details so he could publish them first."
"That's gross. I don't like his articles. I don't like the way he talks about you."
"Me neither. It doesn't feel good."
"What we do has nothing to do with him. Our relationship is ours alone."
"Is that what this is? A relationship?"
"Oh I'm sorry I didn't mean to say that out loud."
"It's okay if that's not what you want.." I said quietly.
"No silly girl, that is exactly what I want. I want to be with you. I just wanted to bring it up differently."
"Be with me like a boyfriend kind of thing?"
"I wish you wouldn't be so insecure (y/n). You have no reason to be like that with me. Yes I want to be your boyfriend. I would be so lucky."
"So are we officially together then?"
"Yes, lovely."
"Okay good." I said smiling, giving him a small kiss that he returned eagerly. When we broke apart I was out of breath. "Wow."
"Yeah.." he said giggling, making me laugh too. "Of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you."
"Aww William! That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"I'm going to say nice things to you forever." He smiled and gave me another smaller kiss.
"Oh yeah about the relationship only being our business, Amy knows most of the business. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. The boys are very aware of everything too. Probably more so."
"You guys are pretty close huh?"
"They're my brothers. Auston, Morgan, Kas, and Mitch. We have a bond like no one else's I promise you that. I love those guys."
"I'm glad that you've got such great friends. It's sweet how you talk about them."
"They're great people. I know you think Auston is awful but he really isn't."
"I don't think he's awful William. I think he hates me. It's different."
"It's silly. I'll admit he's not too fond of this situation but it has nothing to do with you. He wouldn't like me to be with anyone."
"He'd rather you be alone?"
"Yes."
"That doesn't seem very nice."
"Auston thinks I'm too trusting. He doesn't trust anyone. Mitch is with someone and it's a complicated situation. Morgan has someone and it's slightly less complicated. Me, Kappy, and Auston are usually alone. It's easier that way."
"How come?"
"There's just a lot of secrets that's all. Things we can't share that make it hard to be with us."
"Well I don't like secrets much."
"I don't think I'll be keeping many from you, if any. Morgan said-" he stopped himself and shook his head. "Sorry. I know it sounds weird to go off what Morgan says."
"Not at all. I'm never gonna judge anyone on what they think or believe. If Morgan is right all the time it makes sense that you'd put that kind of faith in him."
"You're so incredible." He murmured with his warm eyes looking at me. He leaned in and kissed me. I broke it to yawn though and he laughed. "Let's sleep, yeah?"
"I don't wanna though."
"Why not? You're tired."
"I want to spend more time with you. Talking to you. I don't want to sleep."
"We have all the time in the world (y/n). Just go to bed so you're not tired tomorrow."
"Will you be here when I wake up?" I asked softly.
"You think I'd just leave in the middle of the night?"
"I hope not but I don't know."
"I won't leave unless you specifically ask me to."
"Well I'm not going to ask that."
"Then I will be right here when you wake up. Get up and I'll turn off the lights." I groaned making him laugh as he got up. He turned the light off and crawled back into bed behind me, spooning me, pulling my back close to his chest.
"Goodnight William."
"Goodnight lovely." He kissed my neck and settled to go to bed. I fell asleep so fast.
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amandaoftherosemire · 5 years
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Bulletproof -- Part Eleven
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Fandom: Marvel/College AU
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Gamora, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, Loki Odinson, Peter Quill, OFC Lilah Robbins
Author: @amandaoftherosemire​
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 4,450
Format: Series (Complete)
Warnings: 18+ only, Smut, language, binge drinking, sex in public, intoxicated confessions, angst.
Summary: You and Bucky go with Gamora and Nat to a frat party. Shenanigans ensue. Bucky hears some hard truths.
A/N: Look, it had to happen at some point. That’s all I’m saying.
Banner by: @hellzzzbelle
Part Ten here
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 Part Eleven
You walked to Quill's fraternity house with Gamora and Nat leading the way and Bucky's arm around your shoulders. He'd insisted on walking with the three of you, claiming he needed protection and knew he’d be safe with the three of you.
“Well,” he murmured hotly into your ear, “safe with them. You’re another story, babygirl.”
Your skin went hot and your lips twitched. Snorting, you drilled your finger into the sensitive spot on his stomach. “Shut up.” Your voice was a stern mutter, but your face was a study in smug.
On the sidewalk ahead of you, Gamora and Natasha shared an amused eye roll at the two of you. They were both a little baffled that the two of you seemed to think you were fooling anyone. Still, even Natasha had come around by the time you reached the party, too charmed by the energy of fun and affection between you.
She'd believed Gamora when she'd insisted that Bucky was stupid in love with you, but she didn't necessarily think that meant he wouldn’t hurt you. Seeing you light up under his obvious devotion, however, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The fact that you were clearly setting the rules and boundaries, with Bucky following your lead, helped her understand why neither Gamora nor Steve had interfered in any way.
That you were oblivious to the reality of the dynamics of your relationship with Bucky had her deeply concerned, though. She worried that you were laboring under misconceptions fueled by assumptions. A student of cause and effect, she knew no good could come of confusion, unless there was an order underlying the chaos. As you didn't know you held the reins, you couldn't be directing the course. Natasha planned to discuss this with Gamora at the first available opportunity.
To that end, about an hour after they'd arrived, she went looking for Gamora and instead found Bucky, in the goddamn laundry room, lip-locked with Lilah fucking Robbins. Her face cold and cruel with the plans of revenge running through her head, Natasha pulled her phone from her pocket and began recording.
Bucky was in full-blown panic mode. Gamora had come and taken you from him, laughingly insisting that she needed you for 'girl talk'. (He shuddered to think what girl talk might entail when the girls were you and your friends. He’d never met more dangerous women.) Bucky had decided to play it safe and stay in the crowd around the beer pong table where Sam was winning against a progressively more intoxicated, and thus sassier, but no less able, Thor Odinson. He was having fun until he saw Lilah Robbins stalking toward him in a tight dress designed to raise the blood pressure. He’d made his first mistake by running; predators cannot resist a chase.
Which is how he found himself once again in another frat house laundry room with a pretty girl he was wishing was you wrapped around him.
This time, however, he'd said no before the wrapping.
Trying to be gentle, but also supremely pissed, Bucky put both hands firmly around Lilah's shoulders and yanked her away from him.
"Goddammit, woman," he spat out, infuriated to find himself in this position and utterly sick to his stomach in fear that he'd be the unluckiest bastard on the planet and you'd come walking in on this farce. "No means no, Lilah, the fuck?"
"Oh, come on, Bucky," she purred and pouted, "You know you didn't mean it."
"I told you," Bucky didn't let go of her shoulders, the look in her eye telling him she'd be crawling all over him if he did, "I’m not interested. Even if I was, I'm involved with someone." With that, he pushed her back gently, but with disgust. "And if I pulled bullshit like this, it'd be sexual assault."
Bucky turned to walk out but paused when Lilah shot back, her voice full of venom, "Who is it? Y/N? The girl next door?"
"Keep your fucking mouth shut about y/n," he growled without turning around, anger coming alive in his voice for the first time.
"Get some standards, Bucky."
Rather than respond with the obvious, Bucky simply scoffed, “Please.” With only that, he walked out, so irritated by the whole thing that the small redhead who'd melted into the shadows behind a stack of boxes near the door easily escaped his notice.
Natasha sent you the video along with a text instructing you to listen to the end before putting the phone back in her pocket and easing into Lilah's view with a smile. She figured Bucky deserved a little assistance since he'd done so well.
"I have to say,” she spoke conversationally as the other woman spun around in surprise, "I don't know why you're wasting your time there." The pretty smile took on a sultry edge. "What you need is some imagination. If you're looking to fuck someone unsuitable--" she shrugged and moved forward, "--there are all sorts of options."
Natasha's smile spread, sultry turning feral, when her meaning struck Lilah and was considered rather than rejected. Hey, the things she did for her friends.
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After his narrow escape, Bucky ended up looking through half the house before he found you back in the den. Infuriatingly, he found you in Thor's arms. Granted, you were giggling and shaking your head as Thor bounced up and down and chanted, "Keg stand! Keg stand! Keg stand!"
Gamora was laughing and trying to muffle Quill, who was chanting with Thor and inspiring others to join in.
"What're you doin' with my girl, there, Odinson?" Bucky's voice sailed across the chant and had your head snapping toward him eagerly.
You'd been looking for him when you found Thor, who'd lost thoroughly to Wilson and wanted to share his good fortune. You were careful with alcohol under normal circumstances; a frat party meant one beer in a bottle that you'd fill with water when the beer was gone. You'd long ago found that you had to have a drink in your hand, or you'd spend the night fending off offers to get you more alcohol.
On the other hand, Bucky had just called you his girl in front of a whole crowd of your friends. Tonight was shaping up to be a different kind of frat party. That was proved over again when Thor grinned happily at you and squeezed until you squeaked and boomed, "KEG STAND!"
By this time, Bucky had made his way through the throng to your side. Thor set you down but grabbed your hand to draw you toward the keg in the kitchen. You shot Bucky a look of amused exasperation but didn't resist. "Apparently I'm doing a keg stand," you remarked dryly as you allowed Thor to lead you astray. "You wanna hold my legs, Bug?"
Bucky looked sharply at you, a warning in his face in response to the mischief in yours. "Like I'd let anyone else," he retorted with a smirk as he followed you into the kitchen.
"Gamora!" you called over your shoulder, thinking about the surprise you had for Bucky, "Come make sure I don't show everyone my ass!"
Once you were in the kitchen, Thor pushed the crowd around the tapped keg out of the way. He picked up the tap spout and gestured toward the squat metal cylinder like Vanna White toward your new car. You laughed again, though you were highly uncertain about this particular risky decision. You hadn't done lasting damage to your body by binge drinking, but you didn't like to push your luck, either.
Still, Bucky had that sexy grin on his face, the one that incited you to swing higher, jump farther, go faster. He'd let you down the last time you'd crashed and burned, but these days you were willing to give him a chance to make it up to you. When Gamora gave you a searching look, you smiled fully at her and took a firm hold on the metal rim at the handles. Bucky wrapped his left arm around your legs, careful to smooth his hand over your knee-length dress to preserve your modesty, and lifted them up over his shoulder until you were upside down.
Gamora stepped back to clear a little space around you as Bucky had your ass literally covered but smirked a little when she saw the unimpeded view of your cleavage Thor was currently enjoying.
"Tug my ear when you're done, cutie,” Thor rumbled with his beautiful smile. You gave him a hot look from under your lashes, remembering that Thor loved when you’d played with his ears. You didn’t take the flirting personally, despite the endearment. Thor was a handful; it was part of his appeal. Sometimes you didn’t know how you handled the overabundance of attractiveness around you.
“Quit looking at my tits, Odinson,” you muttered with a smirk before taking the offered spout.
Thor’s grin flashed. “I’m only human, cutie,” he answered before pressing the button and starting the count.
You weren’t paying any further attention, drinking quickly. You planned to hold out for a ten count, long enough to salve your pride but not so long you ended up plastered and puking. At least, that was until you heard Thor’s brother shout, “No push-up?! Then it's not a keg stand!”
Your hands tightened around the handles as Bucky's arms tightened around your legs. The moment he heard the taunt, he knew you'd be rising to the bait. You never could resist a challenge. He wasn't disappointed when you pushed up once, twice, three times to Thor's roar of laughter. When you finished the third push-up, you reached out and grabbed Thor's ear, running your thumb over the lobe and making him laugh harder. He dropped the spout as Bucky carefully lowered your legs to the floor.
You were only just upright when Thor was scooping you up until you were sitting on his shoulder above the crowd as he shouted, "Bow before your Queen, brother!"
From your position on his shoulder, you easily met Loki's eyes with a raised eyebrow and barely restrained glee. With a mocking smile, the wickedly handsome man swept a gallant bow. When he met your eyes again, he nodded an acknowledgement and stated, "Keg stand."
Bucky stood, dumbstruck, smiling up at you as you threw your head back and laughed while Thor set you back down. There were moments when you were so beautiful, when the love rose up into his throat and nearly choked him. He could only stand and grin at you in moments like these, lost in the wonder of it.
Gamora wasn't a romantic; she didn't have that luxury, but even her heart sighed a little at the look of pure, unrelenting adoration all over Bucky as he stood and stared at you. You hadn't noticed; once you were on your feet, Thor was kneeling before you, calling you Keg Queen and you were rolling your eyes and pushing him over. Unable to stand it, and wanting to give Bucky a hand, she decided to intervene through distraction.
"My turn!" she announced gaily and stepped forward. "Thor, hold my legs. Peter, grab the tap."
Thor turned toward her with delight as Peter stepped forward with a grin. Gamora rarely played party games of any sort; both men were excited to corrupt her. As soon as Thor was out of the way, Bucky was grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the room. "I need to talk to you."
"But, Bucky," you could feel the alcohol start to hit you as you tried to keep up and pull your phone out of your pocket at the same time, "I've never seen G do a keg stand!"
To your surprise, amusement, and excitement, Bucky was pulling you into what looked like a linen closet, but it was full of sports equipment. You kicked a muddy cleat out of your way and chuckled, "Bucky, you romantic."
You stuffed the phone back in your skirt pocket, the video Natasha had sent you forgotten. You'd been about to watch whatever she'd sent when Thor had started in about keg stands but being alone with Bucky in a closet had other things taking priority.
Namely, Bucky's mouth as it came down on yours, his arms sliding around you to pull you in close. His lips were soft, but his kiss was hard, almost bruising as his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His metal arm was tight around your waist as you pressed your body against his from thigh to breast, kissing him back with equal fervor.
Your hands came up to tangle in his hair, your fists gripping for leverage as you shuddered in desire. Tearing your mouth from his to suck in a breath, you arched your neck when he buried his face in your throat to take the skin between his teeth.
“Bucky, what the hell?” you gasped, your tone both amused and appreciative as you rocked your hips against his erection.
“I don’t like Thor’s paws on you,” he muttered against your throat, his own paws growing more avid as the hums of pleasure sounding in your throat urged him on.
When Bucky had teased about talking you into a closet to make out, you hadn't expected to be dragged into one to be ravished. You weren't complaining; you were simply surprised. As Bucky's annoyed statement seeped through the fog of lust his mouth and hands had created, you jolted in shock. "Are you jealous?" you asked in a voice rich with surprise.
"Are you kidding me?" His hands had wandered by now down to your ass to grip and lift to press you with his body against the wall. You assisted him by wrapping your arms around his neck and hitching one leg around his hip to open yourself to him. He lifted his head from your throat to glare with desire tinged with green into your eyes. "Of fucking course I'm jealous. I don't want anyone's hands on you but mine."
You shuddered in arousal when Bucky growled the word mine before taking your mouth with a ferocious kind of tenderness. He'd never kissed you like this before, with lightly punishing nips of his teeth and soothing sweeps of his tongue. His kiss, his touch held a wealth of emotion as he worshipped you with hands and lips though both also held frustration and impatience.
You pulled your mouth from his again to turn your head and take his earlobe between your teeth as he skimmed his hand up the back of your thigh and under your skirt. When his hand slowed at the discovery that you weren't wearing anything under the dress, you laughed throatily in his ear and whispered, your words and breath sending chills down his spine and making an already painful erection excruciating, "I don't know why. I would never fuck Thor in a filthy frat house closet."
The bass pumping through the wall was no match for your heart when with almost rough movements, Bucky disentangled himself from you to spin you around. Your hands came up to press against the wall as you bent to push your ass against the hard-on trying to burst from behind his zipper.
He reached behind him to grope for the doorknob, praying for a lock. “Thank god,” you heard him mutter right before his flesh hand cupped a breast while the other slipped up under your skirt to slide between your thighs. You moaned a little as Bucky nuzzled into your neck behind your ear, his breath sending goosebumps over your skin even as your hips rocked fretfully against his hand.
“Babygirl,” he purred, and you whimpered in response, "I'm not going to argue, because I'm not an asshole." As he spoke, he was arranging you just so, stepping back and pulling your hips with him as you kept your hands against the wall to brace yourself. He stayed wrapped around you, his teeth scraping over the nape of your neck. "Or an idiot. But that's not what I meant, and you know it."
The next second, he was straightening to unbutton his jeans and shove his underwear down with his metal hand. The other slipped between your legs from behind, his fingers sliding smoothly into you, wanting to feel you on his skin. Despite the quick, rough foreplay, you were already more than wet enough. It never seemed to take any time at all to get you ready, at least with him.
Bucky couldn't resist taking a moment to enjoy the feel of you, thrusting two long, rough digits gently into you, then ever so slowly pulling them from your soaking pussy. You bucked your hips in irritation when his calloused fingers began to slide slowly back into you like he had all the time in the world and wasn't banging you in a closet during a party.
"Bucky! Go-o!" You used the same childish singsong you'd always used when you were getting impatient, the same moment as Bucky was pushing his cock into you, his laugh rumbling through him and into you.
"Baby," he smirked, his voice almost aching. His fingers dug into your hips, the first thrust making you gasp. "I love when you ask for it."
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A while later, Bucky covered your exit from the closet after peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. You ran to the bathroom to clean up, ruing your decision to not wear underwear when you remembered what kind of house you were in. You were closest to the half-bath near the mudroom, which turned out to be to your fortune as its out of the way location left it with plenty of tissue. Once you looked and felt presentable, you went looking for Bucky.
When you found him, he was on a couch in the den arguing with Sam as they watched the pool game/mating dance between Gamora and Quill. The moment you walked into the room, his eyes were on you and he was offering his lap for a seat with a lecherous grin. You accepted with a laughingly affectionate roll of the eyes and a light shove.
Hours later, after your own loss at beer pong to first Sam, then Bucky, you were murmuring sweet nothings in Bucky's ear as he helped you into a piggyback ride to carry you home. His immoderate chuckling in response was only made worse by the sharp look Gamora was giving him as he tried to look innocent. He didn't know if she could hear you, but he wouldn't be surprised.
By the time he was carrying you up the stairs to your apartment, you had spent the entire walk home telling him about how pretty and sexy and sweet you thought he was. Bucky was feeling mighty fine about his mission to show you how he'd changed. As Gamora had made sure he had your key to get in, he didn't even need to ask for your help.
This was undoubtedly for the best as you had made it to sleepy, too honest drunk. If you were in any fit state to be concerned, you'd have been terrified to be alone with Bucky while this particular brand of intoxication was guiding your behavior. As it was, you'd spent the time you weren't babbling sweetly at Bucky nuzzling into the back of his neck and making happy noises. He was on cloud nine.
He carried you back into your bedroom, an inner sanctum he hadn't been welcome in, in any capacity, for years. Crossing the threshold felt like destiny, but by the time he had helped you clamber down, taken off your shoes, and helped you into your bed, his heart was mush. He couldn't help it; you were adorably drunk and affectionate. He sat on the side of your bed, his hand smoothing over your forehead, marveling at the fact that he even found the crescents of your lashes beautiful as they rested against your cheeks.
"Good night, babygirl," he murmured, his hand gentle as his thumb traced the soft line of your jaw. The longing to climb in the bed with you, wrap you close and fall asleep with your breath on his skin, was almost painful. He sat for a minute with the flutter of hope in his throat that someday soon you'd allow it.
You turned your face into his palm, too sleepy, too intoxicated to hide the softness that lived inside you for him. Sighing happily, you rubbed your cheek against his hand, reveling in the sweet, tender touch. "Night, Bucky-bug."
Bucky made himself stand up, the temptation you held too great to resist much longer. As he turned to leave, his eye passed over and caught on a fifth of whiskey with his name on it sitting on your desk. The bottle was covered in sharpie, the label altered so that the O and the N in Jameson were blacked out, the word James all that was left. Under that, a skull and crossbones had been drawn, surrounded by doodles and curlicues. Almost certain he didn’t want to know but unable to stop himself, he picked up the almost empty bottle and turned to ask, “Y/N, what is this bottle?”
You pried one eye open just enough to see which bottle he held. As soon as you saw the skull, you relaxed back into the pillows and answered, thoughtlessly honest, “That's my bottle of poison, the last of the bottle that almost killed me.”
Bucky actually felt his knees buckle and he nearly dropped the bottle. In case, he set it down and braced himself on the back of the chair next to the desk. "Almost killed you?"
Your voice was utterly unconcerned as you answered. You were too drunk and too close to sleep to think about either what you were saying or who you were saying it to. Also, the only part of that night that you hadn't dealt with until recently was the damage done to your relationship with Bucky. The rest of it felt like ancient history and had no power to hurt or frighten you anymore. "When I got upset because I saw you banging some girl and I ended up in a drinking game with some asshole trying to get me drunk enough to rape me."
That took his knees out completely. He sat limply, sideways in the chair to face you. "The hospital stay." It was a statement of fact, not a question, but you answered anyway.
"Uh-huh," you replied, nodding your head on the pillow, eyes still closed, "I made it all the way to the hallway here." Your face twisted with humor and you snorted. "If you'd brought Gina back here, you'd have tripped over my ass."
Perhaps it was because your voice held no blame, no vitriol, nothing but the humor of hindsight, but your words seemed to punch even harder than if you'd been bitter or resentful. His stomach aching in remorse and regret, Bucky braced his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, babygirl." The words were nothing, nowhere near enough. Bucky didn't know how he could ever make it up to you.
The pain in his gut only increased when you scoffed good-naturedly and moved your hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's okay." You said it cheerfully, with a sweet, happy smile on your face. Your voice softened with affection on the next words. "Steve found me before Brick did." Bucky frowned at the name but couldn’t focus when he was hearing your voice caress Steve's name.
Your face went sly and wicked. "And I have no proof, but if I found out G and Nat didn't have anything to do with that guy going down for some super serious drug charges, I'd be shocked and baffled."
On that, Bucky vaguely remembered an asshole named Brock who'd been arrested and expelled at the beginning of their sophomore year. The only reason he'd noted it at all was because Brock was the last person with whom Steve had started a fight. That wasn't to say Steve hadn't been in fights since then, but it was the last time Bucky had seen him straight start one. It had stuck out because Steve had also refused to explain himself. A lot of things that had made no sense before were falling into place. 
"Steve found you." Bucky asked the question in a voice as cold and empty as the grave. He felt like he was dying, like the future he'd allowed to dream for himself was withering in front of him. Your next words had his heart crying out in agony.
"Oh my god," you cried, your face lit like the sun with happiness and devotion as you thought about your best friend, "I love him so much. My Stevie literally saved my life." You turned onto your side and wrapped your arms around your pillow, wishing it was Bucky. You sighed, on your way to sleep and not thinking about anything but the beckoning blackness. "He's always been my knight in shining armor."
Now he knew why Steve had never made a move; you owed him a life debt. Steve was the sort of man who would always consider dynamics. The imbalance that act would have caused would have left you in charge. Steve would never make a move as long as he thought you’d say yes simply because of that imbalance.
A voice in Bucky’s head spoke up to point out that you hadn’t made a move of your own on Steve, regardless of how sweetly you said his name. Bucky knew from experience you were more than capable of making a move, and they were very pretty and effective moves at that. Instead, you’d introduced Steve to someone else, and saved those pretty moves for Bucky.
“Why do you keep the bottle out?” He felt like your answer would be either his salvation or damnation, but he needed it more than he needed his next breath.
His heart was already cracked when your lips twisted in a look of wry and affectionate exasperation he'd seen cross your face a million times, and almost always when looking at him. Your words shattered it. "To remind me that just because something feels good doesn't mean it's good for me."
In the next second, you were asleep, but if you’d opened your eyes instead, you would have seen the first tear fall from his eyes.
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Part Twelve here
Taglist:
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spacyparker · 7 years
Text
The comfy way of living
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MASTERLIST - PROMPT LIST
Request : Hey there! I wanted to request a peter parker x reader! Can the reader wear glasses and keeps their hair pulled back in a loose ponytail all the time? And one day peter sees her without her glasses and with her hair down? And becomes absolutely smitten with her? (But make sure he loves her even with the glasses though) pretty please write this! Sorry if it doesn't make any sense! ( @nevaehsuga )
Characters : Peter Parker x reader
Word count : 1.4k
A/N : Oookay guys, not a new part of the hallway this time. Hope you’ll enjoy it too anyway. Clearly not my best but here it goes !
You never cared about beauty. You weren't interested in makeup nor dresses. Actually, you lived for natural comfort. All you had in your closet was jean slims and large sweatshirts or t-shirt that you liked to put in your pants. It was your own definition of beauty, in fact. Comfort was the real way of living. You were disappointing your mother on this part, since she was all about girly things, for her a lady had to wear heels everyday, have makeup on her face even if it was just to take the trash out, and smile all day long. But your vans were way more comfy and you couldn't swap them for some fake Louboutins.
People at school always pointed you out calling you ugly or weird. Fortunately, you weren't the only one in this position. You made one friend few years back, MJ, who was like you on this point. For both of you, the most important was to be in harmony with your true self. Didn't matter if this true self didn't please the others.
You arrived at school with your eternal loose ponytail, and your new glasses you had received yesterday. You went with your friends of the decathlon, MJ, Ned and Peter. They were sat down in the courtyard, so you imitated them.
“Yop.” That was your personal hello. “What's up people ?”
You caught Peter staring at you, which was kind of embarrassing. He had this power of intimidating you even if he was such a sweet puppy. You blushed a little.
“Don't you have new glasses ?” Peter asked with an innocent and adorable smile. You were so pleased he noticed this small change.
“Stop looking at me with those amorous eyes.” You giggled.
Peter's mouth opened on a grand scale, and it seemed that his eyes wanted to quit his orbites. “I just.. I..” He stammered. He couldn't talk or think properly so he just turned his head, his cheeks getting pink. Michelle was staring at Peter and his reaction. What was that ?
The bell rang and you all went to class.
“My parents aren't home tonight, anyone wants to come for a movie night ? I don't feel like being alone.”
Michelle laughed, making fun of you and the fear she knew you had. “Again with that pseudoghosts haunting your apartment, [Y/N] ? There were no response when we tried to communicate last time. Don't be afraid of something that isn't there.”
“But I can't help it ! Told you weird things happen all the time at my house, all these creepy noises.” You folded your arms and pouted. “Stop making a fool out of me please.”
“I'll come, if you want.” Said Peter wringling his nose. “May invited some friends of the hospital, I was planning on walking down the streets all night.”
“Thank you, Peter.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “You dumb, it's just that your apartment is old.” She mutterred.
It was 6 pm and you were already in your pajamas, a large t-shirt you had stolen to your father, waiting for Peter to arrive. You felt a little bit stupid since Michelle pointed out your fear of ghosts, you knew many people didn't believe in them and you were wondering if Peter was one of this believers.
Knock knock knock.
It was him. Who else could it be after all ? You opened the door, and found a fresh Peter Parker with packages in his hands. Potatoe chips and other salted stuff. While you were focused on the food, Peter was focused on you. You got out of the shower few minutes ago and your face was still slightly red, you had damp hair and didn't put your glasses back on -actually you never wore them home. He seemed speechless, and you didn't even noticed. Peter licked his lips, trying to come back from his thoughts. But God he found you so beautiful like that, he wasn't used to you being such a cutie. You were beautiful everydays, of course, he was always amazed by how soft your traits were, but right now it was... Such a delight.
“You look... Different.” Peter finally said, entering the apartment.
“Oh ? I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't change anything since we saw each other today.”
“Your... I don't know, it may be your hair. It isn't in a ponytail, I've never seen you with your hair down.” Peter sat down on the couch, his eyes couldn't stare at anything else but you. “Why don't you let them like that more often ?”
You shrugged. “I just don't like to have my hair in front of my face. They fly everywhere and at some point I can't see anymore. That's really annoying, you'd understand if you had long hair.” You sat down next to him, checking Netflix. “What do you want to watch first ?”
He would have liked to respond “you” to that question, but that would have seemed really embarrassing. “Something funny. I guess you don't want to watch horror movies so...”. You immediately blushed and hit his arm. Peter laughed at your reaction. Something was really different now in his heart, he felt that something was going on with him. You both had hanged out many times, but the atmosphere seemed different. Different.
You choose Bruce Almighty, which didn't surprised Peter because he knew you were such a big fan of Jim Carrey. You talked during the movie, laughed, Peter couldn't help but glance at you at times. Your hair was now dry and you were more beautiful than ever. He licked his lips each time he saw you laughing.
You noticed that your friend looked at you, but acted as you didn't. You could feel that it was different between you two too. As if you were closer, as if there were no barreer. Peter was lying on the couch, and so you were half on him, your head on his chest. You never realized how muscled he was until now, but it was maybe because you had never been this close to him. You had never hugged before, but now it seemed like a normal thing. His hand came on your back, he was fondling it through your shirt with his thumb. It was cute, you felt great. Your heart was anormally beating.
Peter was hoping he wasn't going too fast with this little gesture, but he wasn't reflecting on it, he just did what he wanted to do, it felt right and you didn't seem to be against it. On the contrary, you seemed to like it. You grabbed his shirt in your fist and raised your head to reach his jawline you slightly kissed few times. Peter smiled, pulling you closer to him after your lips touched his skin. It was electric. None of you was focusing on the movie anymore, you were too occupied by flirting.
Your heartbeats were dancing on the same rhythm. Peter pulled you closer to him once again, crashing you on his body. Your hair tickled his neck and he was so pleased you didn't wear a ponytail right now.
“[Y/N]” He whispered. He didn't really know why, he just wanted to say your name, felt like home.
You raised your head again so your eyes could meet. You both remained silent for some seconds before you took the floor. “Yes, Peter ?” Your fist compressed his shirt even more, he bit his lower lip. There was some kind of connection you never felt before. A magic connection you wanted to last forever.
“I want to kiss you.” He responded, didn't knowing where he found the courage to tell you. You didn't wait for him to make a move, you turned a bit to sit on his lap and his hands found your hips under your metallica shirt. You went down until your lips touched his for a magistral kiss you didn't know you wanted that much. “Please always keep your hair down honey, you're too sexy.” He told between two kisses.
It wouldn't be your last movie night, for sure.
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robertkstone · 7 years
Text
Woodward Dream Cruise: Cruising With GM’s Tom & Adrienne Peters
Tom Peters has spent 35 years in GM’s design organization, amassing a portfolio of design icons that includes the first Saturn vehicles, the Corvette Indy, the Pontiac Banshee, the Cadillac Sixteen concepts, the Cadillac XLR, and the C6 Corvette. Today Tom serves as director of design for rear-wheel-drive and performance vehicles. Adrienne, his daughter, inherited all the car-lust chromosomes and now serves as marketing manager for GM performance, essentially helping peddle the fantastic stuff her dad designs. We had the distinct pleasure of cruising with both of them at the 2017 Woodward Dream Cruise, and we shot photos of the cars that moWost interested the pair. Herewith: the Peters’ picks of the Woodward litter.
Tom’s 1965 Chevrolet Impala SS396
“Big-block, stick, air!” That’s the rare combo that drew Tom to this particular ’65 Impala, but the impetus to seek one out was the fact that a neighbor had one back in the day, and it made a big impression on Tom. He’d grown up liking GM cars, though his dad was not in the business and did not have any car-guy genes to pass along to Tom. “Everything was amped up in those days of absolutely herculean cars—Cobra Jets, 427s, 396s,” he said. Tom and his friends all got the car magazines and compared notes. He built loads of model cars and began drawing cars almost obsessively. He got good enough at depicting the iconic customized cars of the day, such as Ed “Big Daddy” Roth’s Rat Fink, that he’d sell small original sketches for a quarter or draw them in permanent marker on a T-shirt for $3.50. It was clearly time well spent.
Adrienne’s ’70/’72 Chevrolet Monte Carlo
OK, the VIN identifies this car as a 1972 model, but Adrienne prefers the simpler, finer lines of the ’70. When the best body she could get was a ’72 model, she simply replaced all the trim items that differentiate the styling with 1970 bits. At the start of the project in 2009, while she was still in college, she sat at the kitchen counter with her dad. “I talked,” she said. “He sketched.” They came up with a murdered-out matte black minimalist look with a cowl-induction hood, no badging (her dad debadged even his company lease cars), and tall-sidewall wide rubber all around. The frame was blasted, boxed, minitubbed (to accept 14-inch-wide rear wheels and tires), and signed by Adrienne in welding rod. The engine is an LS6 short-block dressed with a GM Performance top end, mounted to a THM400 automatic spinning a 3.73:1 Positraction axle.
1968 Chevrolet Chevelle 327
Adrienne first set out to find a ’68 Chevelle. She was particularly drawn to the way the narrow taillamps stretched around the side of the car. “I always wanted to build one, but you see a lot of them,” she said. “I wanted something uncommon and unexpected.”
1966 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray
When Tom was a kid during a stint living in the greater Twin Cities region in Minnesota, he recalls one of the kids at his school being dropped off every day in one of two C2 Corvettes. They looked similar except one of them had a TV screen in the dash. He presumes the dad in question might have been a Honeywell exec.
Dodge Vipers
As we pass a gathering of Vipers, we ask the man who’s worked on multiple Corvettes what he thinks of the Viper design. “I like the first one the best,” he said. “With the second one it seemed like they were looking at the Corvette too much. I wouldn’t want to own one, but I appreciate it.”
1969 Chevrolet Nova 502
Ate up with motor! If you zoom in on the engine identifier ahead of the front side marker lamp on this “No. 2” Nova, you’ll see it has been customized to match what it is that has forced the big bulge in that hood: one of the five 502 big-block offerings from the Chevrolet Performance catalog. Tom is friends with the driver’s dad—big-block owners unite!
1961 Chevrolet Corvair Lakewood
“Boy, you don’t see one of those every day.” Tom said as we rolled up on this nicely preserved station wagon example of Ed Cole’s rear-engine VW rival. As we pulled alongside the driver’s window, Tom shouted, “You’ve got the coolest car on the street!”
1999 Chevrolet Camaro
As a GM exec’s daughter, Adrienne was fortunate enough to hop on the company car bandwagon pretty early. Her first car, which she got at the age of 16 and still remembers quite fondly, was a 1999 Camaro. “That might have been a bit too much car for her—she got in a bit of trouble with that one,” Tom said. (Only speeding tickets! Nothing serious.)
1965 Ford Thunderbird
“I’ve always loved those,” Tom said as we rolled by this red beauty. “You mean even before Thelma and Louise?” we asked (and yes, they ruined a perfectly good ’66, not a ’65). “Yeah, I’ve always considered that car a symbol of California cool.”
1965 Chevrolet Impala 283
Tom and this guy exchanged the customary pleasantries, which is extremely easy at the low-n-slow pace of traffic during Woodward Dream Cruise week. The Avenue was lousy with ’65s, but we never saw a single ’63 Impala. We were looking for one because Tom is especially fond of the sculpture on that car, some of which was likely imprinted on him during his childhood when he fondly and frighteningly recalls riding along with older 17-year-old friends and tearing up the back roads at blistering speeds.
1950 Chevrolet DeLuxe
When we asked Adrienne if she had any particular fondness for cars born well before she was, she instantly identified “those fun shoebox cars” such as the 1950 Chevy. They must still be popular because we saw several shoebox-era Chevys on the Avenue, including this little cutie standing guard outside the Sprint store.
C2 Corvette Grand Sport Custom Clone?
This quasi Corvette Grand Sport knockoff had even Corvette expert Peters scratching his head. It featured the radical wheel flares, a rear diff-cooler, contoured clear lenses covering fixed headlamps, and an extreme big-block clearance hood of a Grand Sport, but also this six-lamp rear treatment. And it’s black, not blue and/or white. Alas, you’re likely to see anything on Woodward!
1971 Camaro Z28 RS
“When that generation of Camaro first came out, I didn’t like it,” Tom said. “But over the years, it’s grown on me. Now I really like its almost Ferrari-like lines.” We agree wholeheartedly, and a Z28 with the split bumper and Endura nose would be exactly the one we’d seek out.
1971 Ford Torino GT
As we passed this hidden-headlamp, pointy-nosed Torino, we all agreed that its design, which was inspired by the Jaguar Pirana concept (which led directly to the Lamborghini Espada four-seater), was one of the higher points of Ford styling in its time.
1951 Chevrolet De Luxe convertible
See, matte black isn’t just for murdered-out race cars and bucks-up supercars—it can also make “shoebox” cars with chrome and wide whites look totally cool!
1968 Dodge Super Bee
As we were turning off the Avenue at the end of the evening, Tom spotted a ’68 Dodge. “Man, look at that Super Bee,” he said. “There are some beautiful shapes on that car. It’s one of my favorite non-GM cars.” Like father, like daughter. Adrienne said almost the exact same thing, adding her appreciation for classic, expressive Mopar.
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0 notes
jesusvasser · 7 years
Text
Woodward Dream Cruise: Cruising With GM’s Tom & Adrienne Peters
Tom Peters has spent 35 years in GM’s design organization, amassing a portfolio of design icons that includes the first Saturn vehicles, the Corvette Indy, the Pontiac Banshee, the Cadillac Sixteen concepts, the Cadillac XLR, and the C6 Corvette. Today Tom serves as director of design for rear-wheel-drive and performance vehicles. Adrienne, his daughter, inherited all the car-lust chromosomes and now serves as marketing manager for GM performance, essentially helping peddle the fantastic stuff her dad designs. We had the distinct pleasure of cruising with both of them at the 2017 Woodward Dream Cruise, and we shot photos of the cars that moWost interested the pair. Herewith: the Peters’ picks of the Woodward litter.
Tom’s 1965 Chevrolet Impala SS396
“Big-block, stick, air!” That’s the rare combo that drew Tom to this particular ’65 Impala, but the impetus to seek one out was the fact that a neighbor had one back in the day, and it made a big impression on Tom. He’d grown up liking GM cars, though his dad was not in the business and did not have any car-guy genes to pass along to Tom. “Everything was amped up in those days of absolutely herculean cars—Cobra Jets, 427s, 396s,” he said. Tom and his friends all got the car magazines and compared notes. He built loads of model cars and began drawing cars almost obsessively. He got good enough at depicting the iconic customized cars of the day, such as Ed “Big Daddy” Roth’s Rat Fink, that he’d sell small original sketches for a quarter or draw them in permanent marker on a T-shirt for $3.50. It was clearly time well spent.
Adrienne’s ’70/’72 Chevrolet Monte Carlo
OK, the VIN identifies this car as a 1972 model, but Adrienne prefers the simpler, finer lines of the ’70. When the best body she could get was a ’72 model, she simply replaced all the trim items that differentiate the styling with 1970 bits. At the start of the project in 2009, while she was still in college, she sat at the kitchen counter with her dad. “I talked,” she said. “He sketched.” They came up with a murdered-out matte black minimalist look with a cowl-induction hood, no badging (her dad debadged even his company lease cars), and tall-sidewall wide rubber all around. The frame was blasted, boxed, minitubbed (to accept 14-inch-wide rear wheels and tires), and signed by Adrienne in welding rod. The engine is an LS6 short-block dressed with a GM Performance top end, mounted to a THM400 automatic spinning a 3.73:1 Positraction axle.
1968 Chevrolet Chevelle 327
Adrienne first set out to find a ’68 Chevelle. She was particularly drawn to the way the narrow taillamps stretched around the side of the car. “I always wanted to build one, but you see a lot of them,” she said. “I wanted something uncommon and unexpected.”
1966 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray
When Tom was a kid during a stint living in the greater Twin Cities region in Minnesota, he recalls one of the kids at his school being dropped off every day in one of two C2 Corvettes. They looked similar except one of them had a TV screen in the dash. He presumes the dad in question might have been a Honeywell exec.
Dodge Vipers
As we pass a gathering of Vipers, we ask the man who’s worked on multiple Corvettes what he thinks of the Viper design. “I like the first one the best,” he said. “With the second one it seemed like they were looking at the Corvette too much. I wouldn’t want to own one, but I appreciate it.”
1969 Chevrolet Nova 502
Ate up with motor! If you zoom in on the engine identifier ahead of the front side marker lamp on this “No. 2” Nova, you’ll see it has been customized to match what it is that has forced the big bulge in that hood: one of the five 502 big-block offerings from the Chevrolet Performance catalog. Tom is friends with the driver’s dad—big-block owners unite!
1961 Chevrolet Corvair Lakewood
“Boy, you don’t see one of those every day.” Tom said as we rolled up on this nicely preserved station wagon example of Ed Cole’s rear-engine VW rival. As we pulled alongside the driver’s window, Tom shouted, “You’ve got the coolest car on the street!”
1999 Chevrolet Camaro
As a GM exec’s daughter, Adrienne was fortunate enough to hop on the company car bandwagon pretty early. Her first car, which she got at the age of 16 and still remembers quite fondly, was a 1999 Camaro. “That might have been a bit too much car for her—she got in a bit of trouble with that one,” Tom said. (Only speeding tickets! Nothing serious.)
1965 Ford Thunderbird
“I’ve always loved those,” Tom said as we rolled by this red beauty. “You mean even before Thelma and Louise?” we asked (and yes, they ruined a perfectly good ’66, not a ’65). “Yeah, I’ve always considered that car a symbol of California cool.”
1965 Chevrolet Impala 283
Tom and this guy exchanged the customary pleasantries, which is extremely easy at the low-n-slow pace of traffic during Woodward Dream Cruise week. The Avenue was lousy with ’65s, but we never saw a single ’63 Impala. We were looking for one because Tom is especially fond of the sculpture on that car, some of which was likely imprinted on him during his childhood when he fondly and frighteningly recalls riding along with older 17-year-old friends and tearing up the back roads at blistering speeds.
1950 Chevrolet DeLuxe
When we asked Adrienne if she had any particular fondness for cars born well before she was, she instantly identified “those fun shoebox cars” such as the 1950 Chevy. They must still be popular because we saw several shoebox-era Chevys on the Avenue, including this little cutie standing guard outside the Sprint store.
C2 Corvette Grand Sport Custom Clone?
This quasi Corvette Grand Sport knockoff had even Corvette expert Peters scratching his head. It featured the radical wheel flares, a rear diff-cooler, contoured clear lenses covering fixed headlamps, and an extreme big-block clearance hood of a Grand Sport, but also this six-lamp rear treatment. And it’s black, not blue and/or white. Alas, you’re likely to see anything on Woodward!
1971 Camaro Z28 RS
“When that generation of Camaro first came out, I didn’t like it,” Tom said. “But over the years, it’s grown on me. Now I really like its almost Ferrari-like lines.” We agree wholeheartedly, and a Z28 with the split bumper and Endura nose would be exactly the one we’d seek out.
1971 Ford Torino GT
As we passed this hidden-headlamp, pointy-nosed Torino, we all agreed that its design, which was inspired by the Jaguar Pirana concept (which led directly to the Lamborghini Espada four-seater), was one of the higher points of Ford styling in its time.
1951 Chevrolet De Luxe convertible
See, matte black isn’t just for murdered-out race cars and bucks-up supercars—it can also make “shoebox” cars with chrome and wide whites look totally cool!
1968 Dodge Super Bee
As we were turning off the Avenue at the end of the evening, Tom spotted a ’68 Dodge. “Man, look at that Super Bee,” he said. “There are some beautiful shapes on that car. It’s one of my favorite non-GM cars.” Like father, like daughter. Adrienne said almost the exact same thing, adding her appreciation for classic, expressive Mopar.
<img width="150" height="150" src="http://st.motort
from PerformanceJunk Feed http://ift.tt/2vHyNcA via IFTTT
from Performance Junk WP Feed 4 http://ift.tt/2fPibKs via IFTTT
0 notes
robertkstone · 7 years
Text
Woodward Dream Cruise: Cruising With GM’s Tom & Adrienne Peters
Tom Peters has spent 35 years in GM’s design organization, amassing a portfolio of design icons that includes the first Saturn vehicles, the Corvette Indy, the Pontiac Banshee, the Cadillac Sixteen concepts, the Cadillac XLR, and the C6 Corvette. Today Tom serves as director of design for rear-wheel-drive and performance vehicles. Adrienne, his daughter, inherited all the car-lust chromosomes and now serves as marketing manager for GM performance, essentially helping peddle the fantastic stuff her dad designs. We had the distinct pleasure of cruising with both of them at the 2017 Woodward Dream Cruise, and we shot photos of the cars that moWost interested the pair. Herewith: the Peters’ picks of the Woodward litter.
Tom’s 1965 Chevrolet Impala SS396
“Big-block, stick, air!” That’s the rare combo that drew Tom to this particular ’65 Impala, but the impetus to seek one out was the fact that a neighbor had one back in the day, and it made a big impression on Tom. He’d grown up liking GM cars, though his dad was not in the business and did not have any car-guy genes to pass along to Tom. “Everything was amped up in those days of absolutely herculean cars—Cobra Jets, 427s, 396s,” he said. Tom and his friends all got the car magazines and compared notes. He built loads of model cars and began drawing cars almost obsessively. He got good enough at depicting the iconic customized cars of the day, such as Ed “Big Daddy” Roth’s Rat Fink, that he’d sell small original sketches for a quarter or draw them in permanent marker on a T-shirt for $3.50. It was clearly time well spent.
Adrienne’s ’70/’72 Chevrolet Monte Carlo
OK, the VIN identifies this car as a 1972 model, but Adrienne prefers the simpler, finer lines of the ’70. When the best body she could get was a ’72 model, she simply replaced all the trim items that differentiate the styling with 1970 bits. At the start of the project in 2009, while she was still in college, she sat at the kitchen counter with her dad. “I talked,” she said. “He sketched.” They came up with a murdered-out matte black minimalist look with a cowl-induction hood, no badging (her dad debadged even his company lease cars), and tall-sidewall wide rubber all around. The frame was blasted, boxed, minitubbed (to accept 14-inch-wide rear wheels and tires), and signed by Adrienne in welding rod. The engine is an LS6 short-block dressed with a GM Performance top end, mounted to a THM400 automatic spinning a 3.73:1 Positraction axle.
1968 Chevrolet Chevelle 327
Adrienne first set out to find a ’68 Chevelle. She was particularly drawn to the way the narrow taillamps stretched around the side of the car. “I always wanted to build one, but you see a lot of them,” she said. “I wanted something uncommon and unexpected.”
1966 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray
When Tom was a kid during a stint living in the greater Twin Cities region in Minnesota, he recalls one of the kids at his school being dropped off every day in one of two C2 Corvettes. They looked similar except one of them had a TV screen in the dash. He presumes the dad in question might have been a Honeywell exec.
Dodge Vipers
As we pass a gathering of Vipers, we ask the man who’s worked on multiple Corvettes what he thinks of the Viper design. “I like the first one the best,” he said. “With the second one it seemed like they were looking at the Corvette too much. I wouldn’t want to own one, but I appreciate it.”
1969 Chevrolet Nova 502
Ate up with motor! If you zoom in on the engine identifier ahead of the front side marker lamp on this “No. 2” Nova, you’ll see it has been customized to match what it is that has forced the big bulge in that hood: one of the five 502 big-block offerings from the Chevrolet Performance catalog. Tom is friends with the driver’s dad—big-block owners unite!
1961 Chevrolet Corvair Lakewood
“Boy, you don’t see one of those every day.” Tom said as we rolled up on this nicely preserved station wagon example of Ed Cole’s rear-engine VW rival. As we pulled alongside the driver’s window, Tom shouted, “You’ve got the coolest car on the street!”
1999 Chevrolet Camaro
As a GM exec’s daughter, Adrienne was fortunate enough to hop on the company car bandwagon pretty early. Her first car, which she got at the age of 16 and still remembers quite fondly, was a 1999 Camaro. “That might have been a bit too much car for her—she got in a bit of trouble with that one,” Tom said. (Only speeding tickets! Nothing serious.)
1965 Ford Thunderbird
“I’ve always loved those,” Tom said as we rolled by this red beauty. “You mean even before Thelma and Louise?” we asked (and yes, they ruined a perfectly good ’66, not a ’65). “Yeah, I’ve always considered that car a symbol of California cool.”
1965 Chevrolet Impala 283
Tom and this guy exchanged the customary pleasantries, which is extremely easy at the low-n-slow pace of traffic during Woodward Dream Cruise week. The Avenue was lousy with ’65s, but we never saw a single ’63 Impala. We were looking for one because Tom is especially fond of the sculpture on that car, some of which was likely imprinted on him during his childhood when he fondly and frighteningly recalls riding along with older 17-year-old friends and tearing up the back roads at blistering speeds.
1950 Chevrolet DeLuxe
When we asked Adrienne if she had any particular fondness for cars born well before she was, she instantly identified “those fun shoebox cars” such as the 1950 Chevy. They must still be popular because we saw several shoebox-era Chevys on the Avenue, including this little cutie standing guard outside the Sprint store.
C2 Corvette Grand Sport Custom Clone?
This quasi Corvette Grand Sport knockoff had even Corvette expert Peters scratching his head. It featured the radical wheel flares, a rear diff-cooler, contoured clear lenses covering fixed headlamps, and an extreme big-block clearance hood of a Grand Sport, but also this six-lamp rear treatment. And it’s black, not blue and/or white. Alas, you’re likely to see anything on Woodward!
1971 Camaro Z28 RS
“When that generation of Camaro first came out, I didn’t like it,” Tom said. “But over the years, it’s grown on me. Now I really like its almost Ferrari-like lines.” We agree wholeheartedly, and a Z28 with the split bumper and Endura nose would be exactly the one we’d seek out.
1971 Ford Torino GT
As we passed this hidden-headlamp, pointy-nosed Torino, we all agreed that its design, which was inspired by the Jaguar Pirana concept (which led directly to the Lamborghini Espada four-seater), was one of the higher points of Ford styling in its time.
1951 Chevrolet De Luxe convertible
See, matte black isn’t just for murdered-out race cars and bucks-up supercars—it can also make “shoebox” cars with chrome and wide whites look totally cool!
1968 Dodge Super Bee
As we were turning off the Avenue at the end of the evening, Tom spotted a ’68 Dodge. “Man, look at that Super Bee,” he said. “There are some beautiful shapes on that car. It’s one of my favorite non-GM cars.” Like father, like daughter. Adrienne said almost the exact same thing, adding her appreciation for classic, expressive Mopar.
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