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lyssismagical · 2 years

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2,805 miles

There’s 2,805 miles between here and home.

If he hadn’t changed his mind, there would only be 181.

Why did he change his mind? The question would probably forever haunt him, the biggest decision he’ll ever make, he’ll always wonder whether or not it was the right choice. MIT had been his dream for so long, but he chose Caltech.

MIT was a good school, one of the best, but it was also the school Tony went to. Peter didn’t mind living in Tony’s shadow, but he was worried about the possibility of added pressure or being handed things because of his relationship to one of the biggest alumni. He doesn’t want an unfair advantage like that.

But god does the 2,805 miles feel uncrossable.

MJ’s at Harvard. Ned’s at MIT. Flash is taking the year abroad with Harry. Cindy’s at NYU. Betty’s at Yale. Their group of geniuses have been split up and scattered across the country, and Peter’s alone on the west coast.

It shouldn’t be this bad, the homesickness, the ever present ache in his chest, the crushing loneliness, the bittersweet phone calls. It shouldn’t feel like this. He’s in college, for god’s sake. He should be out partying, meeting new people, studying in beautiful libraries, being a free adult. But instead, he’s curled up in bed, laptop open to the Skype screen as he counts down the minutes until Tony will call him.

He knows what Flash would say. Poor baby wants his mommy? Oh wait. And it shouldn’t sting, it wouldn’t if it weren’t true. Flash knows what lines not to cross anymore, dead mom jokes are okay, they should be fine, Peter makes them himself all the time, but it’s true, and it hurts. He wishes his mom were here. He wishes his mom and dad were still living in California, just a bus ride away, and he could go visit them for Family Dinner.

What he really wants is just a hug.

What he would give for May to give him a hug and kiss his forehead and tell him everything would be okay.

The text comes through, an apology, an excuse, something about Morgan, and the postponing of their Skype call.

And it’s okay because Tony doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how desperate Peter’s getting, how much he craves the smallest normalcy, how much he needs these conversations to function. It’s okay.

He calls MJ instead.

“Hey, I’m a bit busy, dude, can I call you back?”

“Yeah, no worries!” he says, proud of himself for keeping his voice even. And then she hangs up and he’s alone in his small, empty, unhomely dorm room with plain white walls and textbooks stacked carefully on the edge of his desk and his pile of clothes in the corner of the open closet.

It’s pathetic really.

“Fuck,” he says, out loud because it’s the only human voice he gets to hear that isn’t tinny or crackly over device speakers. “It’s going to be just fine, okay? Five weeks until Spring Break. Five weeks. You can survive five weeks.”

He sits up, stretches, counts to ten and then drags himself over to his desk.

“I think I’m depressed,” he tells Ned the next day.

His back aches, the pit in his stomach has just gotten darker, his head hurts, his eyes are so dry, his hands keep cramping, but at least he’s ahead in his physics class, right?

Ned kind of laughs, one that means he’s not quite sure if it’s a joke or not. “Homesick?”

“How do you know me so well?”

“You’re, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, a momma’s boy. You like familiarity and comfort and your love language is physical affection which I’m sure you haven’t been getting much of lately. Even if your family has it’s… complications, they’re still the most important thing to you so it’s hard to be so far away.”

“What the hell, dude?”

Ned laughs, realer this time. “Sorry, I’m taking a psych class.”

“Is it easier there? Being closer, I mean?”

He pauses, thinks about it, the sound of Peter’s fan, the one constant in his life, that fills the space between. “It’s not like I’ve exactly got the time or money to make the roadtrip home all the time. A hundred and eighty miles is still a hundred and eighty miles.”

“I guess.”

“All I’m saying is that you made your choice for all the right reasons, and you shouldn’t change your mind now because you think MIT will be easier. Peter Parker doesn’t give up for the easier option.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking a philosophy class too.”

“Speaking of, I’ve gotta go, dude, I’m sorry. Listen, take a shower, get dressed, go for a walk, eat something good. It’ll make you feel better.”

He gets a notification for five dollars sent to him by MJ with a little note buy yourself a coffee bestie.

Peter’s nothing if not a good listener, so he gets up and does as he’s told. It’s a nice, cool day in California, so he puts on a pair of jeans, a collared button-up, and a comfy sweater overtop, a classic Peter look. If MJ saw him, she’d definitely tell him that college is about experimenting and finding yourself, not sticking to what you’ve always been. Despite them not being here, he’ll always have her voice in his head. And he buys himself a coffee from the shop just around the corner of his dorm building.

Campus is big so it’ll be a long walk to go around the campus in a circle. He puts on some music and starts walking, getting lost in his head.

Smell the roses, May would say. Get out of that big head of yours and see the world around you.

And if Ned were there, he’d laugh and say, If we had brains like his, we’d never see the world either.

Peter would blush and shake his head, try to peel back the compliments but he’s learned it’s pointless with them.

Someone touches his arm, a barely there feeling, and he looks up, a polite smile on his face. You have a resting sad face, MJ says in his head.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He focuses on the southern speaker, a young man with wild dirty blond curls, sunkissed skin, a sprinkling of freckles over his nose, a silver nose ring, dark blue eyes, and eyelashes he knows Cindy would fawn over. He’s wearing an old black t-shirt that reads Yee and a flannel over top with a pair of even older straight-legged jeans.

“It’s alright,” Peter says automatically. You’re too nice to strangers, it’ll get you killed, MJ would say.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking about how my friend would say I’m too nice for my own good,” he replies honestly. “And too honest.”

The man laughs. “Maybe, and my sister would say I’m too forward or maybe that I’m annoying, but it’s who I am… My name’s Harley, we’re in the same chemistry class with Bailer. You didn’t show up for class yesterday and I was thinking about reaching out to offer my notes, but I chickened out. Like why would a random student notice one person missing from our class of like three hundred? It seemed creepier than helpful.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Peter says. He takes a nervous sip of his coffee. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, but he also knows exactly why he’s so nervous. It’s just a conversation with a classmate, but Harley’s paying his full attention to him, looking at him and smiling and nose ring catching the sunlight.

“It wasn’t too complicated anyway,” Harley says. “And from what I’ve seen, you’re like a certified genius, so I don’t know how much my notes would help, but at least it’s something.”

Harley pulls open his bag adorned with colorful pins and pulls out a notebook filled to the brim with cue cards and sticky notes and paperclips a variety of colors. He flips it open and rips out the last few pages and hands it over.

“Here,” he says, smile unwavering like it’s what he was born to do. “You can give them back to me the next time you’re in class.”

“Sure, of course, thank you so much.” May would roll her eyes at his constant good manners and say you sure didn’t get that from me or your uncle.

Harley nods. “Yeah! My mom would say it’s southern hospitality or something.” He puts on a higher pitched, slower voice to imitate his mom.

Peter can’t help the smile that tugs at his mouth. They have very similar thinking patterns, apparently. “Well, thank you.”

“Hey!” Harley says, looking at Peter’s coffee. “Do you live at Pasadena? I’ve been meaning to try their coffee place, is it good?”

“It’s really good, yeah… Maybe we can study together there sometime?” Peter offers shyly. “We have that big chem midterm coming up and I haven’t found any study partners yet.”

Harley smiles a little wider. “That sounds perfect. Here, I’ll write my number on those notes so you have it and we can find a time that works.”

He pulls a red sharpie from his bag and writes his number on the chemistry notes.

Nice one, loser, didn’t think you had it in you, MJ would say. And Ned would laugh and demand pictures and the phone number so he can see for himself if Harley’s good enough. And May would ruffle his hair and try to give him a condom. Just in case! she’d say, hands lifted in defense and try to teach him about safe sex again. And Cindy would start spouting statistics about first dates and relationships. And Flash would say, how’d you score someone so out of your league, Parker?

“It’s a date,” Harley grins. “I’ll see you around, Peter. And, might I suggest, get out of that genius head of yours before you run into a tree.”

And maybe he’s not so homesick. Maybe he needs to make California his new home with people like Harley. Maybe he should reach out to Gwen from his English Literature class who he worked on a project with. And maybe he should start talking to the boy who lives across the hall from him in Pasadena, Harry, who loaned him a couple quarters to do his laundry and bakes cookies every weekend to share with the floor.

Maybe he will get out of his head and into the world.

There might be 2,805 miles miles between Caltech and Queens, but there’s only half a mile between his dorm and coffee and a world of possibilities.

Taglist:

@littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir @not-today-thx @fandomstuffff @wicked-starlight-collector @moongoddess2k4 {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #parkner #irondad #michelle jones #ned leeds #cindy moon #peter parker #harley keener #abbie keener #tony stark #morgan stark #may parker #ben parker #flash thompson #gwen stacy #harry osborn #parkner fic #homesick #homesickness

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fromcainwithlove · 2 years

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master post: important jordan poole characterization

the athletic: you don’t know jordan poole

Jordan Poole's persona made that shot. Gray talked and Poole answered. He launched that ball with the confidence of 10 armies. That ego. Those stones. This is who Poole spent the last 18 years trying to mold himself into—a sashaying, shit-talking, shot-making star. He's the guy who makes this shot.

Jordan Poole, the person, then reacted to it. Wide-eyed, mouth full of braces, he darted around the arena, flailing his arms, whimsy in the air, as teammates chased. He didn't strut or swagger. He ran everywhere and nowhere and nearly lifted off the ground like Peter Pan. This is the guy who, down to the marrow, carries the endearing disposition of a daydreamer.

Between the two, it's a fine middle-class life, one with weekends spent apple picking and attending art festivals and pottery classes. The Pooles are church folk, a Lutheran household, and that's how young Jordan was raised. That turned slightly complicated, though when Jordan's blooming personality outgrew ecclesial tolerances.

"We always encouraged individuality," Monet Poole said on Wednesday night, sitting in her living room, wearing a University of Michigan long-sleeved shirt. "He didn't want to go to parochial high school because he was so fun and so different. The parochial school kind of wants you to walk a fine line. It would've smothered him.”

"When he was little, he was so annoying, "Wilson said in the A&M locker room on Wednesday. "I’m not gonna say I hated em, but (I) always wanted to beat him up. The first time I met Jordan, we were at a King James Tournament and he was like 8 or 9, and I was like 12 or 13, he just kept talking crazy, like, I can beat you one-on-one.' I was like, bro, you're 8 years old, get outta here. He just always had this crazy energy, talking about how good he was.”

One side of Poole is prim and G-rated. He's strong in the classroom. He loves animals and has volunteered at the Wisconsin Humane Society. He also participates in a reading program at a grade school in Ann Arbor. He's disarming—looking just as he did as a freshman in high school, except with a thin mustache that may or may not be stenciled on.

This all comes with an eccentric's bend Poole carries the sort of countercultural style that comes with embracing individuality. He manages to go so far in the other direction that being a (for lack of a better term) dork translates to self-confident cool. In high school he was not the high-profile athlete lounging back in the bleachers at a sporting event; he was the one leading the student section in cheers at women's basketball and volleyball games. Those who knew him at Rufus King and La Lumiere describe someone who figured out how to transcend castes and cliques. Or, better put, perhaps, he chose to.

But there's the other side, too. Poole's wealth of confidence can be misappropriated funds, often resembling arrogance. He's not one to stand in line. When he arrived at Michigan, he gave approximately zero damns about his place in the pecking order. He fired up whatever shots he wanted. He got into a scuffle with walk- on Brent Hibbitts in the first week of practice and fired a ball at him, a scene that, if you know Brent Hibbitts, sounds preposterous.

Poole is a trapeze artist of social relations. He can rub you the wrong way and be everyone's best friend, all at once.

the chron: warriors’ jordan poole recoils from the spotlight, but it found him, anyway

He didn’t need many people. He didn’t clamor to be in cliques or have a lot of friends. He was fine with Blink and Drake. Those were his cats. Blink, jet black, slept in his bed nightly. He trained them to sit for treats like dogs, even taught them to fetch felt balls.

“He’s a little cat whisperer,” said his mother, Monet Poole.

Jordan strolled through the wilderness whenever he could. His dad, Anthony, called them “little nature walks.” Milwaukee’s lakefront and Doctors Park were among his favorite retreats. The Midwest is known for its scenery — its burly trees and stunning lakes. Poole escaped into its tranquility.

“Can we finish this another time?” he asked as he got up from his seat, politely. “I want to get some shots up before I miss the last bus.”

He walked over to the 3-point line, where Chris DeMarco, the Warriors player development coach, joined him and proceeded to work on his game. The squeak from his gray Kobe Nike’s was the loudest sound in the gym.

If Poole is anything, he is self-aware. He knows popularity, the pursuit of clout, is a rabbit hole. He knows he’s at risk for getting swept up in it all. So he chooses isolation, a tendency that traces to his childhood, when he blocked out distractions in pursuit of his dream of becoming an NBA All-Star.

“He wants to be great,” Thompson said, “and you need that confidence to be great.”

the merc: buckets, cartoons and confidence: rookie jordan poole making an early impact for the warriors

Like on the black tops of Milwaukee, Poole’s age hasn’t revealed itself on the court at Chase Center. In the locker room is when the age disparity between him and his teammates is most obvious.

One of many new perks at the Warriors new arena includes a personal TV in each of the players’ lockers. After Thursday’s win against the Minnesota Timberwolves, most of the players had their sets tuned to the news. Poole was watching “SpongeBob SquarePants.”

“Here, in San Francisco, it’s the most ‘me’ vibe. Be yourself, be unique. It’s real chill, laid back,” Poole said. “I feel like if there’s any place I was supposed to be, it was California.”

nbc sports: photography, friendship sparks lifetime bond for poole, jimenez

For Poole, while he did take a photography class in high school where he even he had to work in a darkroom, his true love of working behind the camera as he continues to get used to being front of one so frequently, was during his sophomore year at Michigan. First during a summer trip to Spain, and then in the classroom.

The Michigan Wolverines men's basketball team made a three-game, 11-day trek through Spain in August of 2018 going into Poole's sophomore season. He took a camera with him everywhere he went and as someone who journals daily, dates entries and his pictures, he loved looking back at the expedition from a different angle. Then, he met Professor David Turnley.

My fault for asking Poole what grade he received in Turnley's class.

"Yeah, I got an A," Poole, the Warriors' most-memeable player said with a look that would have lit up Twitter. "C'mon."

He also quickly confirmed Poole easily earned an A, remembering his work as being very natural, interestingly composed and full of grace -- making sure to always give his subjects the dignity they deserve.

"To be a great photographer requires having great people skills," Turnley said, an answer that mirrors Jimenez's. "Jordan is a natural. He communicates easily with everyone, and he always has a twinkle in the eye. He is disciplined in his work as a student. He was always very modest, and humble with his fellow students about his incredible abilities as a basketball player. I think he is such a secure man about that side of himself, that he doesn’t want to intimidate others with that. And to be in a position to interact with people in a way that doesn't limit himself, as a human being -- not denying his great athletic abilities -- but also aware of other parts of his and others' humanity.

"It was clear to me that Jordan will be great in life at everything he does. And the world is fortunate to have him."

the athletic: jordan poole, it’s time for your turn in front of the camera

Jordan Poole has this thing he does. When he’s making appearances or out among the people, he has his favorite cameraman, Bay Area photographer Jordan Jimenez, turn the camera away from him and onto others. The two Jordans pull up on people — the vibe capturer known as J-Squared pointing the lens, and the Golden State Warriors guard dishing instructions — and give them a chance to say whatever comes to mind. If they ask Poole anything, he refers the subjects back to their heart.

He calls it Five Seconds of Fame. To random people, to friends, to colleagues, out of the blue and unsolicited, Poole is doling out moments. It’s odd, even jarring, the way he flips it. The NBA player normally commands the space. But Poole gives people a chance to be the center of attention, let them feel the heat of sudden expectation.

nbc sports: how klay’s brotherly mentorship of poole helped warriors

One of the longest and strongest was Jordan Poole putting his face into Klay Thompson's right shoulder, the two wrapping their arms around each other. Ten years apart in age, an unbreakable bond and a lifetime of mentorship was displayed under the lights of a crowning achievement: The first championship for the 22-year-old Poole and a fourth for the 32-year-old Thompson.

"He's taken me under his wing and from workouts together, to text to talks and conversations in the locker room and calls, it was really special to see somebody who is as closed off kind of like to himself," Poole said after an emotional pause at the postgame podium. "He's his own person, and for him to embrace me at such a young age and kind of take me under his wing, teach me his tricks and show me his blueprint is really special, and I'm glad to be part of that."

Poole has his 90-second rule for interviews, which has vanished as his star status has grown. Klay taps the table and often looks away as he answers questions, even in his 11th year as a pro, and ninth season when taking away his two lost years to injuries.

It's the last place they want to be at times. On Thursday night in Boston, they soaked it all up. As Poole said, Thompson can be to himself. He's happiest in the water or on the hardwood. They're both gym rats, though, basketball junkies always striving to take their game to levels that so many doubted they would reach at one point.

Golden State drafted Poole one week after Thompson tore his ACL in Game 6 of the 2019 Finals. It was his first major injury and a new low for him on and off the court. There were countless dark days. For Poole, the Splash Brother was a bright light when the Michigan product was struggling.

Klay even saw a younger version of himself when Poole was a rookie, trying to get his feet wet on a Warriors team that had lost Thompson to injury, Kevin Durant to free agency and Steph Curry to injury four games into the season. The Warriors finished the regular season with the worst record in the NBA. Thompson made sure he was there to pick Poole up when he needed it most.

"When it comes to Jordan, that's my rook," Thompson said to reporters after the Warriors won the Western Conference, beating the Dallas Mavericks in Game 5 of the Western Conference finals at Chase Center. "I remember a couple years ago when he would go through a shooting slump, he would be so hard on himself. Reminded me of my younger self. I just kept telling him, it's going to pay off young fella, you're gonna play in the NBA Finals one day.

"I told him that on the bench, third game of the season when we were getting smacked. He was going through it as a 19-year-old rookie. Now for that to come to fruition, I mean, I'm so happy."

the athletic: jordan poole unplugged: from g league to steph curry comparisons

There was no better way to get a sense of who Poole is than, well, asking him to talk for more than 90 seconds. Nearly 20 minutes later, with Poole proving to be a delight during our Wednesday discussion that lasted twice as long as originally advertised, it was quite clear he’s the kind of player and person who will elevate the Warriors’ already-elite program for years to come.

So personality-wise, have you always been a don’t-love-talking-about yourself guy?

Yeah. If you go to my college interviews and stuff, whenever we would do media, I never really was a fan.

How come?

I don’t know … but I used to want to do journalism.

Did you really?

Right, so I kind of get the concept. I feel like, you know, they’re looking for their big break, as well. Everybody is looking for their big break. They’ll get it however they can. So, if you don’t give them the opportunity, you know? But I mean, I keep it pretty neutral.

Did you ever dabble in any type of journalism stuff?

I took a lot of English classes, but I was only in school for two years.

This is a little bit of a cliché question, but I think it’s still worth asking: If I asked you what was your lowest point when it comes to belief that something like this might happen, what comes to mind?

[Thirteen seconds of silence pass before he answers]

There was never really a point to me where I didn’t believe it would happen, if that makes sense. If anything, when it gets tough, that means it’s working. That’s how I look at it. If you go through a bad shooting streak for a week, two weeks, normally the people who come out of those go on a hot streak or something like that. I mean, my rookie year was rough.

You’ve been around for a minute, but to all of a sudden be having these kinds of games on the playoff stage is different. What’s the world around you like these days?

I keep a small circle. I’m not, like, a big social media guy. All I have is Instagram, and I’m rarely on that. I don’t do much. I just kind of chill at home, be to myself. I put all of my energy into the hoop stuff, go home, restore my energy so I can come back and do it again.

There’s a video that went around the other day of you in Game 3 (against Denver) sitting in Coach Kerr’s seat in the huddle and just lifting everybody up. Somebody made the point to me that a couple years ago, you obviously didn’t have that voice. What’s that evolution been like?

Growing up, whatever team I was on, I was always a leader. It was more so in terms of giving guys confidence, telling them, “Yo, just be yourself.” You don’t have to overthink it. Just positive reinforcement, positive reinforcement. And when I got here, it was pretty cool to see how much of an impact Steph has and the player that he is. But he wasn’t insanely vocal. And then we have Draymond, who was like the most vocal. So, I was able to kind of pick and choose a little bit, see what direction I wanted to go in.

Klay wasn’t really around in terms of practice because he was hurt. But naturally, I’m always ready to give positive reinforcement. I do a lot of it in the game, like talking to Klay, talking to Steph, at the free-throw line, walking back from timeouts. But at that time, it was the last couple of minutes, I think, the last two minutes. And no one had said anything. I’m (thinking), “This is the time where we all, this is where we win the game.” And it had nothing to do with age to me; it was more so, like, I built the relationship with Steph, with Klay, with Wiggs, with Draymond, that I could go and tell them, like, “It’s your time, (so) step up.” That’s all it was. It was more so confidence. It had nothing to do with basketball. It had nothing to do with plays, nothing to do with switch here, switch this. It was like, “Steph, be a dog. Klay, when you get any look, knock it down. Wiggs, be aggressive. Draymond, take somebody out the game.” It was more (a message of), “This is the time, of any time, to step up.” People on the bench, like the other guys, they were kind of just chilling.

the ringer: making a splash

“You gotta say it,” Poole, beaming a million-watt smile, said to Terry Ryan, a Chase Center security guard. “You gotta say it or I’m not doing it.”

“Y’all have him for 90 seconds,” Ryan said, prompting laughter from the press corps.

Ryan has been making the same joke since midseason. The media began to request to interview Poole more and more, but the 22-year-old guard wasn’t quite used to being in front of a live microphone.

“If I could duck it, I would,” Poole tells me a day later. “I guess it’s just … we kind of signed up for it.”

The rook couldn’t stop talking. During the first week of his first training camp, Poole was the lone shooter playing against a first-string team featuring Curry, Green, and D’Angelo Russell. Poole was clearly overmatched, but he kept jawing and chucking.

“He was just all over the map,” Kerr tells me. “You could see he had ballhandling skills, but they needed to be tightened up. You can tell he had the talent, but what was he going to do with it and how was he going to respond to the inevitable lumps that he was going to take? And, frankly, I had no idea at that point how he would do that.”

“He talking shit because he kind of low-key cooking, but it really don’t matter because you ain’t winning,” says Juan Toscano-Anderson, an undrafted rookie at the time.

The Warriors’ veterans were struck by such boldness from the 28th pick. Some made comments wondering where the rook got this confidence. But Poole never intended to make it a scene; his tough talk is merely a means of survival learned long ago.

Playing with grown-ups meant dealing with dirty screens, trash talk, and doubt. If Jordan even thought to complain, his pops would relay a recurring message: “No matter what, don’t let nobody tell you what you can’t do or what you can do if you’re doing the right thing,” Anthony would say. “You can question authority, as long as it’s done with respect.”

But Jordan also developed a propensity to gab. “I was never like a bad kid or I never did anything to get in trouble,” Jordan says. “But If I wanted to stand out without being obnoxious, I would—whether that’s what I wore, whether that’s what I listened to, whether that’s the things that I talked about, the questions that I asked, the people that I hung out with.”

But in the practice facility at Chase Center in his rookie season, Poole’s mouth was getting on everyone’s nerves, and players were letting Draymond Green know about it. “They’ll come to me like, ‘Dray, tell him to shut up. He a rookie,’” Green tells me.

Except Green didn’t have much sympathy for his fellow vets. He saw something in the kid who wouldn’t shut up.

“I was a big advocate of his then,” Green says. “I think a lot of people didn’t like his attitude early on, and I loved it. I was a rookie that talked, so I’m not going to go tell another rookie to shut up because y’all think, ‘Oh, you young. You shouldn’t say a word.’ I don’t roll like that. And so right then and there I’m like, ‘Oh, you getting under people’s skin. OK. I love that.’”

Most nights would be spent scouring YouTube at 2 a.m., downloading video clips of Damian Lillard’s stepback, or Steph’s shot off a curl, and sending them to Patrick Turner, his offseason trainer, with the accompanying message, “We need to work on this.” When he got to Turner’s gym, just outside of San Francisco, he’d ask more questions. One evening following a workout, he asked Turner about the toughest thing he’d ever seen somebody do in a workout. Turner pointed to the corner of the gym, and said Poole had 20 attempts to make at least 18 3-pointers without the ball touching the rim. “And I told him only two people had done it,” Turner says, “Steph Curry and Sabrina Ionescu.”

“Bet,” Poole responded. “You’re about to see the third.” And an hour later, his words came true.

“That was him during the whole pandemic,” Turner says “Just wanted to be great. Just coming in, working his ass off and getting after it.”

Poole took frequent trips to the G League. He scored 23 points in his first game, helping the Santa Cruz Warriors overcome a 15-point deficit. But in his third game, he jawed with an opponent and earned a technical foul, prompting then–Santa Cruz coach Kris Weems to take him out of the game. “You can’t be doing that, man,” Weems said. “I need you to just stay focused. Don’t be worrying about dudes who are not at your level.” Heeding the message, Poole responded with one of his own. “Watch,” he said. “I’m going to win this game.” Then he scored five of his game-high 24 points in the final three minutes and 40 seconds, including two free throws to ice a 110-106 victory.

An opportunity arose on May 11, 2021, in a matchup against the Suns. The Warriors, in the thick of the play-in race, needed a win. Poole scored 20 points, including a go-ahead 3-pointer, opening the eyes of the team’s biggest stars.

“I could see the moment didn’t bother him,” Curry tells me. “And you can see the passion. This matters to him. I don’t know how loud it was to everybody else, but to me, I was out there with him, and I could feel a different energy about him.”

Poole doesn’t mind talking to the media. The issue, he says, is he’s afraid to give a piece of himself to a group that he feels doesn’t actually want to hear what he has to say.

“People really don’t care,” he tells me. “They’ll ask you the questions, right? They’ll say they want to know, but genuinely, they really don’t care. I mean, you know the people who do. Those are the people that are probably close to you, are like family. It’s just conversation, blank conversation for whatever time we have. … I’d just rather stay away from it.”

***

#clips and pics from eight articles and interviews #just needed to get these in one place #fic inspo #jp #my best gay muppet son #fascinating little jelly bean #dubs

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muchmoreclever · 6 months

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there’s just gotta be a sequel these days.

scream!AU the sequel. (sneak peak ;))

There's a light shining in his eyes. Blinding him. A sickly yellow colour that draws bugs and girls alike. A streetlamp just like the one near the Macdonald house. In fact, he was quite sure that's where they were, the Macdonald house. Yes- there's the music from the party and he can feel the wind from that cold night.

Looking down he can see Peter staring right back at him, all wide-eyed and teary. Begging. Pleading . The knife in his hand is solid and comforting, and when it plunges into Peter’s neck, the cut is clean.

Its flashes of yellow light and blood after that, the knife going in and out over, and over, and over, and over. Eventually, Peter doesn't make sounds. Eventually, the music gets louder– except… Except the party had been over by the time Remus got there. The music had been turned off long before Peter had made it back into the house. The knife in his hand suddenly feels foreign, because Peter wasn't stabbed to death, no Remus had used an axe.

He wakes up frozen. Paralysed, and half expecting Peter to be standing over him (maybe in the mask, maybe not. Both haunt his dreams.). It takes him a moment to register where he is, his eyes drifting around the dim room.

Boarding school took a lot of getting used to.

Hell even when he wasn't dreaming about murdering his ex-best friend he still woke up confused half the time, still expecting to wake up in his bedroom at home even after nearly a year.

It's not that boarding school is bad or anything–It's actually really great. The education is top-tier, the grounds are beautiful, the dorms are spacious, and the cooks really are incredible. it isn't even exceedingly lonely, he’s made a few friends here and there (of course after making sure they weren't revenge-seeking psychos.). It's all just different from what he was used to before. The loud laughter of James and Sirius, the grounding hugs from Lily, the great advice from Mary, and the comforting silences of Dorcas and Marlene. Compared to what he had, boarding school is far too quiet.

“Alright, Lupin?”

Remus wiped a hand over his eyes, riding himself from the last strings of sleep, sighing as he looked over to where his roommate sat at the little desk by the window, writing something down on scattered papers.

“Fine, Gideon.” Remus yawned, “Where's Fabian?”

“Noooo fucking clue.” Gideon said, turning back to his papers, “Was downstairs I think? Went to talk to uhm... Rabastan I think?”

“Why would he do that to himself?”

Gideon chuckled, “He has some fireworks that I am dying for. Fab’s trying to convince him to hand them over.” Gideon swivelled his head to look at Remus for a moment, “Oh, I think you missed a call by the way, don't know if it was your mates or your dad though. Pandora said they called for you.”

“Alright, thanks,” Remus said, kicking away his blankets and climbing out of bed. The best part of the dorm, in his humble opinion, was the attached bathroom. Listen, he has his reasons. When he first chose to go to boarding school the idea of sharing a bathroom with a hundred other teenage boys was the least appealing thing about it–safe to say he was relieved (and thoroughly impressed with this school's fucking budget) that each room had their own private bathroom.

He quickly brushes his teeth, avoiding his own eye in the mirror. It's a work in progress, learning to look at himself and see… well, himself. Like some sort of imposter syndrome or something, he's sure it has a name. It's just that when he does look in the mirror he sees a lot of things, most he doesn't like. He sees his father reflected in his tan skin, his mother reflected in his freckles, and Peter in the scars on both his face and chest. He sees Peter in a lot of himself. He sees Peter in pretty much everything–but he especially sees him in the mirror. Remus can still see the manic stare Peter had, the one knew he also had. One he isn't sure he ever got rid of.

It's hard to look in the mirror. Remus does his best not to these days.

Leaving his dorm room with little more than a quick yell to Gideon, Remus made his way down the common area, nodding to the people he knew. There’s a little space near the linen closet that’s tucked away from the main common space, just big enough to not feel claustrophobic, with a few phones on the wall and a small sad-looking table with a few rickety chairs. Remus had spent a lot of time down here, especially during the first few months, waiting on those timed phone calls that couldn't really make up for the real thing.

He takes one of the phones off the hook, not bothering to look at the ‘missed call sheet’ as he dials a number he knows by heart. Its Friday. He always calls on Fridays.

“Hello?”

“Still miss me?”

“You wish.” Sirius laughs down the line, and Remus smiles.

“Did you call earlier?” Remus asks as he leans into the wall, he left his cane up in his dorm and the cold really does hell on his leg.

“Nope,” Sirius says, popping the p, “Must of been your other boyfriend.”

“You think you're funny.”

“I know I'm funny.” Remus rolls his eyes, “But I'm serious about your other boyfriend, who was it again?”

Remus closed his eyes tightly, this little fucker, “...I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh but I think you do, Moony.” Sirius hums, “Robert Pattison was it? Yeah , I think so.”

“Oh, you fucking wish you were the twilight guy.”

Sirius gasps, offended, “Are you saying I'm not a hot sparkly vampire?”

“I'm saying you're delusional.”

“Wow. You're a dick.” Sirius tuts, Remus can basically see him shaking his head, “You don't deserve your movie.”

Yeah, that was another development from the whole murder spree thing. Turns out people got really invested in their case especially after some prick shared the footage of Rita's final stream. That had been a pain for her parents to get to get it taken down. Remus thought that had been the end of it, that all the chats would die down and people would stop mailing his dad creepy shit until one day they got a letter in the mail basically explaining a movie was being made in their ‘likeness’, whatever the fuck that had meant. It had been months of fighting with the directors and studios just for them to say there wasn't enough ‘evidence’ to tie the murders in Canvey to the ones being written into the movie. So, yeah. Remus has a movie. About his dead friends. Whoopie.

“I don't want it, please do take it.”

“Me and James are thinking about going to see it,” Sirius admits, “Just to see what they got wrong.”

“You're not worried at all?”

“About what?”

Remus was quiet for a moment, thinking of the right thing to say, “Memories. I mean… We watched him almost kill James, it's ok if that fucks someone up a bit.” He doesn't say how it fucked him up.

“I know that,” Sirius sighs, “We can always leave the theatre.”

It was safe to say that the both of them didn't really like to share the trauma they had actually gotten from the night. They both knew about the others, of course, had talked each other through the panic attacks and nightmares, had held onto each other when the weight finally broke them down.

“You’ll tell me if it's bad?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, of course.” Sirius said, “It's gonna be alright, though. Maybe no one wants to see it and it’ll be the biggest flop since Evan Almighty.”

“Maybe.” Remus chuckled, “Alright I’ve got to go. I promised Amelia I would help her plan something for Halloween.”

“You’re celebrating then?” Sirius asks, and Remus can hear the question lying beneath it.

“I am.” Remus said carefully, “Nothing.. big. Holidays already got enough around it. Probably just going to drink a bit of stolen booze with ten other people in an empty common room.”

“Wow. Boarding school sounds riveting.”

“A true bash.” Remus said, “You guys doing anything?”

“Eh, a repeat of the first bit of last year.” Sirius says, sounding as if he was trying to make a bit of a joke, “Sit in the Potter’s basement and watch movies off of Lily's computer. Marls and Dorcas are coming over too.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It will be.” Sirius says, “I guess I should let you go see Anna.”

“Amelia.”

“Same thing.”

“Jealous.” Remus chastises, “I’ll miss you guys, tell them I said hi.”

“We miss you too, have fun.”

“I will.” Remus closes his eyes, and for a moment he can almost pretend he's home, “I love you.”

Sirius laughs warmly, “Love you more.”

The phone clicked as he placed it back in its place on the wall. Without SIrius’ voice, the room was too quiet. Too bland. He didn't really want to be in it at all, and made a move to leave, trying to think of where the hell Amelia would be hanging around, but in way far too clique, the phone rang.

He picked it back up without thinking, having fought away the habit of flinching at every ring-like sound, and brought the receiver up to his mouth.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Remus.” a distorted voice crooned.

If this were a movie, this would be the part where the theme song starts to play.

#marauders #james potter #dorlene #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine #marlene mckinnon #remus lupin #sirius black #modern wolfstar au #scream au #scream

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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SOUNDS - 1988

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narcissisticmf · 3 years

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come back, please | peter pevensie x fem!reader

description: y/n lives in narnia and after the pevensie siblings leave, she feels like her connection with peter was left unfinished. she begs aslan to go see him in his world.

trigger warnings: angst, violence, sword fighting, mentions of anxiety/depression, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: 3.1k

You stood beside Caspian as you watched Aslan stand before the crowd of Telmarines and Narnians. The air was rather brisk that day, you felt your clothed arms grow subtle goosebumps all amongst them. You attempted to avoid eye contact with anyone except Aslan, for you were unable to look to the Pevensie siblings without shedding a tear or two, or many more. You felt Caspian nudge your arm softly with his elbow as a way to comfort you without using words. You forced a small smile to your glossy lips and continued to look at Aslan.

"If any Telmarines wish, I will return you to your forefathers. I'm not referring to Telmar, either. Your ancestors were seafaring brigands. Pirates run aground on an island. There they found a cave, a rare chasm that brought them here from their world. The same world as our kings and queens," Aslan trailed off and continued to explain more about where he would send any of the volunteers.

When he'd mentioned the kings and queens of Narnia, your eyes flickered to the Pevensies. The warmth in your eyes slowly started to grow cold when you locked your gaze with Peter, who looked back at you with a gentle expression. Through your lashes, tears blurred your vision. You felt as though you shouldn't be crying, you did your best to fight it, but the tears continued to trickle down from your waterline, along your cheeks staining your soft skin.

After a family had offered to go through with Aslan's offer, he awaited upon another volunteer. You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing what was coming when Peter stepped forth.

"We'll go," He swallowed thickly, his gaze bounced from Aslan to you.

"We will?" Lucy's voice raised in pitch.

"Come on. Our time's up," Peter released a breath and walked towards you and Caspian. His attention was solely on the prince as he pulled off his sword. "After all, we're not really needed here anymore," He handed the sword over to Caspian who took it in his grasp.

"I will look after it until your return," Caspian spoke with incandescence.

"I'm afraid that's just it," Susan spoke up. You glanced up to her with a knowing expression. "We're not coming back," She finished.

You felt Peter stand before you, but your eyes refused to look up to him. Without making any weeps, hot tears fell down along your flushed cheeks. Your blurred vision caught a glimpse of Peter's hands motion towards your face. His warm palms caressed your wet cheeks, making you finally look up to him.

"Why must you go, Peter?" You released in a soft whisper, nearly inaudible.

"I've learned what I can from this world, Y/N.. it is time for me to live in my own," He spoke gently, a subtle sadness under his tone.

"I will miss you so much," You choked out, in an attempt to keep your voice steady, but you failed miserably.

Peter parted his glossy lips and stared at you with the most comforting gaze you could imagine. He snuck his arms around your shoulders and buried his face into your shoulder, squeezing you tightly. You wrapped your arms around his torso with all the emotional strength you had left in you. You couldn't let go, not until he would first.

"Don't forget me," You whispered, lifting your head up to look at him.

"Never," Peter pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You fluttered your eyes closed in response and let the warmth from your forehead spread throughout the rest of your body.

You felt Peter pull away, his fingers grazing across your sides as he stepped back, keeping his eyes upon you as he made his way to stand beside his siblings. Caspian and Susan shared a goodbye beside you, but you continued to watch Peter as he did you.

A burning sensation overtook your eyes as you watched the Pevensie siblings make their way between the trees of which Aslan had made for anyone who wished to go into another world. As soon as they stepped between the trees, they disappeared and you were left with your heart sunken into your stomach. More tears trickled down your cheeks as you stood silently watching the same spot Peter once stood.

More Narnians and Telmarines volunteered to go, but not all. Many people chose to stay. You planned to stay in Narnia with Caspian and the rest of the Narnians. You continued to stand still, watching the same place Peter was last seen before he disappeared.

The night was rather cold in Narnia, brisk wind and starry nights. You remained in the same spot for hours on end, still staring at the same tree. You hadn't known why you felt so weakened by Peter's departure, but you knew there was no way you'd be able to cope in any healthy manner.

"Don't you think it is time you get some rest?" Caspian's voice was heard from behind you. You couldn't break your gaze from the trees as more tears begun to fall.

"He's not coming back," You whispered through your parted, dry lips.

Caspian begun to walk up along the steps behind you. He stood to your side and followed your gaze to the same tree. "If it makes you feel any better, I am just as unhappy to know that Susan will not be back either," Caspian stated quietly.

"Knowing we are both miserable makes me even more unhappy," You released a soft breath, feeling emotionally tired.

Caspian sighed and continued to stand beside you, for even his company may do some good for you. After hours upon hours of looking through the trees, you broke your gaze and looked at Caspian. His eyes found yours and your parted your dry lips, breathing slowly.

"I've done enough mourning for one day," You spoke, "Goodnight, Caspian."

Starting down the steps, you walked along the stone of the fortress and headed towards your chamber. With sleep, prehaps, you'd be able to regain some emotional strength for the days to come.

The sun's rays snuck through the curtains of your chamber and struck your eyes mildly. You groaned and turned over, in no desire to awaken just yet. Your body felt awfully heavy and the skin around your eyes puffed due to how much you'd been crying.

Slowly, you fluttered your eyes opened and felt the mixture of mucus and tears harden along the inner corners of both your eyes. You took your knuckles and rubbed them away, releasing a deep sigh as you did so. You begun to sit up against the headboard of your bed. You pushed yourself off the mattress and walked barefoot about your room. You quickly changed from your sleepwear to your armor. Although not needed, you decided to practice some sword fighting early that day, in hopes of getting your mind off of Peter.

You pulled your boots on over your barefeet and grabbed your sword from the case at the end of your bed. Hurrying across the hall, you made your way out into the field where many Narnians were gathered. You kept your eyes peeled for Caspian, in hopes of asking him to practice with you.

"You're looking well rested this morning, Y/N," The voice of Caspian was heard from behind you, making you jump.

"Don't creep up on me like that," You scolded softly and watched him chuckling lightly. "Mind practicing with me for a little while? I need to get my mind preoccupied."

Caspian nodded his head, "Allow me to get my sword first." You nodded in response and scurried out further into the field, where you both would maintain a harmless battle away from the rest of the Narnians.

Awaiting in the field, you held your sword by the handle, having the blade kiss the grass. The sun's rays were potent that day, the leather armor against your body grew hot against your skin. When Caspian was seen in the distance with his sword and two shields, you released a breath and felt the adrenaline begin to build.

"We can't fight without shields," Caspian offered a grin as he tossed one to you. You rolled your eyes playfully and held up the shield in your free hand. "Ready?" He asked as he stood relatively far from you.

"Are you?" You offered with an evil glint, swinging the blade towards him as he dodged it with his shield. When Caspian tried to strike you from the head, you bent down so that you'd dodge his hit. You took the opportunity to swing your sword at his feet, causing him to stumble backwards.

You stood straight and watched as he slowly got up, swinging his sword towards you from the left and right. A grunt left your lips when your blade came to contact with Caspian's shield, a spark flew off the metal.

You couldn't help but remember Peter, how you and he would often practice together. Mostly because your sword fighting needed some work, but never directly spoke of that. You missed him truly and it grew harder to come into terms with when you knew you'd never see him again.

Caspian's strike to your blade kicked you from your thoughts. You mentally thanked him for that. You let out another grunt and swung your sword to his, the strike so powerful that it knocked it from his grasp. Caspian looked rather surprised and when you kept swinging, he dodged almost every hit with his shield.

You swung beneath his feet, which caused him to jump, swiftly avoiding your hit. You watched as Caspian reached for his sword upon the grass, making you swing to his shield again.

The both of you froze when you turned to notice Aslan was watching over the field at the top of the castle, overseeing all the Narnians. You released a soft breath and slowly brought your blade down, endless thoughts of Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy ran through your mind. You dropped your sword and begun to run back into the castle.

"Y/N! Where are you going?" Caspian called, but you were already hot upon your feet, too fast to turn back.

You scurried up the stairs, making left and right turns until you'd make it to the top, where Aslan stood overseeing everything and everyone. You needed to take the opportunity you had to speak with him yourself. You opened the doors to the top and looked straight ahead, seeing Aslan still there, before the same tree you spent all of yesterday looking at.

"Aslan," You breathed out and watched as his head turned to look at you. His light green eyes found yours, his mane moved softly with the brisk wind. You made your way towards him and stopped once you came to the edge.

"I see you've been practicing on your skill, dear one," Aslan stated, turning his head toward you.

"I need something to occupy my mind," You bashfully admitted.

"Missing them, are you?" He asked, with concern.

"More than I would like to admit."

"I miss them too, Edmund and Lucy will return eventually, in a few years potentially," Aslan continued to look at you, finding your face was written with distress. "What's the matter, dear one?"

"I must see Peter again," You spoke in a shaky tone. "I want him to come back and be here."

"Y/N, Peter has grown and learned all that he could from this world," Aslan said, his eyes softening.

"Can't I visit him in his world?" You spoke gently.

"Yes, but only for a little while," Aslan breathed out.

"How long?" You whispered.

"Two days of their world and then you will return."

You nodded gently, parting your lips as you stared at Aslan. He nodded in response and motioned towards the trees, the wind picked up in and the leaves rustled against the thin branches. You watched with a mesmerized gaze, keeping your eyes locked with the leaves. The color of the sky faded into a dark grey from a light blue. You squinted softly and turned your head to look before you. The road was slick and droplets from the sky fell rapidly down upon the ground. Puddles overflown against the sides of the road.

Glancing down at your clothing, you noticed you'd been dressed in a maroon colored uniform with your hair now straightened against your shoulders. You parted your lips and turned to look around, noticing how busy the streets were.

Slowly, you stepped forth to make sure no oncoming vehicles would hit you, when both sides of thr street were clear, you scurried across and made it to the other end, seeing that many a persons walked about the concrete. You'd been in Narnia so long that you'd forgotten what the streets were like during the daylight. You questioned if daylight would still be referred to as the same despite the gloomy whether that arose over England.

You turned your head to notice several people were exiting the underground railway station. You felt a nervousness grow deep inside your stomach. The center of your palms produced a thin layer of sweat when your eyes were met with four people you knew all too well in your world. You parted your lips softly and watched as Peter, Edmund, Susan and Lucy came up from the staircase and upon the same sidewalk as you had been upon. You were unsure if they'd recognize you, being so far away.

Your eyes locked with Lucy as she turned her head and noticed you. She had a wide grin upon her face as she reached to tug Peter's sleeve, her gaze never breaking with yours. Your lips formed into the most beautiful smile, shining ever so brightly on such a dull day.

When Peter looked to Lucy, she pointed towards you and her eldest brother followed where her finger led to. When his deep blue eyes fell into your warm ones, he froze in a state of shock, but also great happiness as you could tell his smile was rising. You missed everything of him, his smile, his eyes, his voice, his arms and his incandescent attitude. Susan and Edmund were the last to notice you, smiling happily.

You couldn't hold yourself back any longer, you begun to run towards them with pure excitement running through your veins. The adrenaline ran through you like wildfire, spreading about beneath the surface of your skin. The pit of your excitement lied within your chest, where your heart was palpitating like crazy.

"Peter!" You smiled as he started running in your direction. Behind him, the rest of the Pevensie siblings ran to you. You released inhaled deeply once you were close enough to Peter. His smile was wide as he wrapped his arms around your torso, lifting you up and spinning around with a sweet laugh escaping his lips. You hugged his shoulders and buried your face into his neck.

"Ah! Y/N, I missed you," Peter spoke as though a large weight was taken off of his shoulders.

"I missed you.. all of you," You let happy tears trickle down your cheeks as Peter placed you down onto the concrete. You slowly peeled back from him and took Lucy into a hug, along with Susan and Edmund.

"How did you get back?" Susan asked with a grin to her lips.

"Aslan, I will be here in your world for two days," You released a breath.

"Why two days?" Lucy questioned.

"I suppose it has a lot to do with how much I miss you all.. how terrible it was to let you go the first time.. it'll hurt no less the second time," You sighed gently.

You looked from Lucy to Peter with a softening expression. "If it's okay, I would like to speak to you," You mentioned softly.

"I'll catch up with you, wait at the traffic light for me," Peter looked to Edmund, Susan and Lucy as they all nodded and headed up along the sidewalk. You turned to look at Peter, who was already staring down upon you.

"I couldn't bear it," You released in a gentle breath. Peter offered his hand and you gladly took it, feeling an overwhelming sense of butterflies in your stomach. He lead you to a small bench before the road and you took a seat in it, soon after he did as well.

"Peter, I wish you could come back with me," You admitted.

"I wish I could as well," He pressed his lips together, "But I'm afraid I am just grown too old to go back."

"You're never too old for Narnia," You spoke softly. Peter offered a thin smile and took your hand in his own, entwining your fingers together.

"Come back, please," You felt your eyes brim with tears, "There's so much I haven't gotten to tell you."

Peter gently took his free hand and brushed away the tears from beneath your eyes. "What is it that you haven't gotten to tell me, Y/N?" He whispered and leaned in closer, making the moment much more intimate.

"Two days won't be enough time," You looked up to him.

"Come back, bring Lucy, Susan and Edmund.. Narnia needs you. I need you," You admitted ever so gently. "I'm unsure if Aslan will ever do this for me again, Peter."

Peter rested his forehead against yours and looked down at your fingers intertwind with his own. "There's only one thing Narnia has that I would go back for in a mere second," His voice lowered.

"What is it?" Your eyes flickered up into his own, a deep nervousness kicked back into your stomach.

Peter pulled his head back gently and smiled, his dimples caving in as he did so. You parted your glossy lips and watched as his blue eyes locked with yours. You felt your body move closer to him, not physically, but rather emotionally.

Before you could comprehend it, your lips were overtaken by Peter's. You fluttered your eyes closed in response and gave into the kiss, feeling your lips mold together in the most perfect sync. You felt his chest press against your own. You took the opportunity to cup his cheeks with your palms, feeling pure gaiety within your body. You missed Peter more than you could even begin to explain. You were unsure where else this kiss would lead, but you had no intent to rush there.

a/n: hello lovies!! so this may have been one of my favorite things i've ever written. i know it's angsty but those are the types of pieces i love writing the most. i hope you enjoyed this one and who knows maybe i'll write a part two? hmm? haha! anyway, thank you so much for reading! be safe and treat people with kindness. — angelina.

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sunflowerharrington · 2 years

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♡ idiots ♡

Part One: Just because it won’t come easily, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

—————

summary: jubilee wasn’t planning on playing cupid today, but sometimes; two idiots need a little help falling in love.

wc: 3210

warning(s): none i think! (that’s a first) well actually there’s a tiny bit of bad language.

notes: i chose the oc’s name to be parker, you know, cause… peter parker? and he, like quickie, is also a superhero?! haha i’m so funny, i know! this oneshot is dedicated to my beloved charley, @quickiesgirl, who is just as, if not more in love with pete than i (didn’t know that was even possible but it is!). love ya and hope you like this!

— featuring the shirt from this amazing gif :)

—————

Parker drags her feet behind the group as they walk up the drive to the mansion. She’s hot and mentally exhausted from the most recent mission, ready to try getting a wink of sleep on her break before she has to teach the kids. The evening sun beats down on the group, mixing with her already splitting headache, making her want to curl up in a ball and disappear. She’s having a truly shit day.

Jubilee looks back to see her walking alone behind the group and hangs back until Parker catches up with her. She grabs Parker’s hand and they walk together, with Parker throwing her a sad smile, unable to hide her bad mood.

“Did I tell you I adore your shirt, Parks?” Jubilee chirps up in the silence, taking the hem of the purple and blue fabric in her hands. “Feel like I’ve seen this before…”

She swings their arms, trying desperately to brighten up Parker’s mood. Parker looks at her, instantly feeling a little better. Nobody knows how to make a bad mood vanish like Jubilation Lee does. Parker nods, grinning back at her best friend. The pair ramble on for a few moments about how their day has been, and how funny Scott looked with his shirt on backwards, as nobody told him it was.

“Oh my God!” Jubilee gasps. “My favourite part of today was this morning in the kitchen, I heard your sweet singing voice, Parker. You sound like a nightingale.”

Fuck, it felt so good having Jubilee around to keep Parker sane. She keeps walking ahead and laughing along with the rest of the conversation. She spins on her heels and walks backwards to face Parker. She brings a fake microphone up to her mouth, lyrics exploding from her mouth.

“Sweet Dreams are made of this!” She sings, her shoulders bopping along to the words she’s singing. Parker immediately joins in, bringing her own fake microphone to her mouth. She dances towards Jubilee, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Who had a mind to disagree?! I travelled the world and the seven seas!” Parker yells.

“Everybody’s looking for something!” They scream in unison, noticing everybody else had made their way inside, leaving the two girls all alone. They hum the rest of Parker’s favourite song together as they open the door and head for her bedroom to take a nap.

Jubilee kicks off her shoes, sitting down next to Parker on the latter’s bed. She watches intently as the look on Parker’s face changes to one Jubilee knows so well. And it means she’s thinking about one thing, and one thing only… The x-men had split up into two groups, one with Jubilee, Parker, Scott and Jean, and Erik (after he stopped terrorising them) leading them. And the other had the rest, with Charles leading and giving the rundowns and orders. Fucking hell Parker just wanted Xavier and Lensherr to get together already. Only Parker, Jubilee, Scott, Jean and Erik have made it back to the mansion so far, so that gives them time to do whatever the hell they want. In Parker’s case that’s having a nap, and in Jubilee’s case that’s playing matchmaker. Jubilee wasn’t planning on playing cupid today, but sometimes; two idiots need a little help falling in love. And idiot #2 is still out there, so she has to wait for him to get back, which obviously doesn’t take too long.

“You like Peter don’t you?”

Parker whips around to look at Jubilee, a confused look written all over her face. She goes to speak but closes her mouth.

“It’s your face, Parks. You always have a look on your face when you’re thinking about him.” Jubilee laughs, placing her hand on Parker’s arm.

“I do?” Parker asks. “Is it a dumb face?”

“No! No,” she says. “It’s kind of like you’re daydreaming and shocked. Like you’re on the edge of a cliff and you don’t know if you want to jump or not.”

“That’s oddly specific, Jub.” Parker raises an eyebrow at her and chuckles.

Jubilee just shrugs, waving it off. She gets off the bed and leaves the room, coming back a few moments later with a small bag of makeup. Parker watches her rummage through the bag, pulling out some products and a sponge.

“I’m gonna make you look so hot, he won’t know where to look tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“We’re all having dinner together tonight, order in. Charles’ treat.”

“Oh fuck! I’ve got nothing to wear!”

“You can wear something of mine, Parks. Something… silver,” she squeals, taking some product on her sponge and dabbing it on Parker’s face, until they both hear shouts coming from outside.

Parker gets up and looks out her window just in time to see the others getting back, and there he is, with the most adorable little grin on his face, through all the pain nobody else can see. These back to back missions are beginning to take a toll on him, and on top of that he’s also a professor. As is everybody else, but nobody else in that mansion, other than Jubilee, is as precious as Peter is to Parker. And he’s holding his arm, like it’s been hurt pretty badly, so Parker immediately runs down the stairs as fast as she can to tend to him. If she has to nurse him back to health, then of course she will, any excuse to get close to him.

She finds him laying face down on the sofa in the teacher’s lounge, whimpering in agony. She kneels down next to him and daringly runs her fingers through his hair once. He lets out a guttural whimper when he turns his head to look at her, surprised she’s there, after all he’s been acting so cold and distant towards her for the last two weeks for whatever stupid reason he can think of. Truth is, he was falling in love with her but didn’t know what to do with his feelings, so he pushed both Parker and his feelings away.

As soon as she sees the cuts on his beautiful face, she rushes out of the room and comes back with a first aid kit, wondering how fucked up the rest of his body is if his face is that bad. She doesn’t care about her own cuts and bruises right now. Peter’s her number one priority.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

The energy in the mansion had switched drastically since Erik came back. Peter and Parker talked and joked like normal. She flirted a lot, knowing Peter loves it. He loves knowing he’s the only one she has an interest in and he soaks up every ounce of her he can get. And yet… Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No quick hugs when he runs past, no tucking her hair behind her ear while they talk. If she caught him staring over at her one more time without saying anything she was going to flip. Or beat him up. She doesn’t know which.

She kneels back down next to him and asks him to sit up, which she has to help him with, the skin to skin contact between their hands electrifying the air around them. But all that was once there is now gone as they let go of each others’ hands, Peter resting his in his lap as Parker turns to get a wooden spoon out of the first aid kit. “Bite down hard on this, okay?”

Parker placed the spoon in his mouth and he bit down, letting out a scream as Parker popped his left shoulder back in place. “The rubbing alcohol might sting a bit too, just warning you.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs as best as he can with his dislocated shoulder.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am!”

“Stop being so stubborn,” she says, dabbing the cotton wool over his cuts to clean them, the alcohol working its magic in seconds. He’s thankful she’s doing this for him, but he isn’t about to tell her he has a large cut across his chest. No way would he make her even more worried than she already is.

Parker can’t suppress the smile that tugs on her face, her cheeks turning that bright pink colour that Peter loves. She tilts her head, smiling at him as she finishes cleaning his wounds, placing a bandage over a gash on his right arm and fuck she forgot how nice his hands are. She knows it’s wrong to think about that right now, but she can’t help but think about how he would use them on her, if they ever got that far in their situation-ship.

“I’m worried about you Pete,” she finally says. “You never sleep, and fucking hell you could’ve died out there today!”

“But I didn’t die. And you’re worried about me?” He teases, his mouth pulling up into a small smile. He rests his hands on his things and starts patting a beat, nothing in particular, just something to distract him from the increasing tension in the room.

“Always,” she says, lacing her fingers together to also take her own mind off the tension in the room.

They stay quiet for a little too long, just basking in each other’s presence. Peter goes to say something but stops, closing his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. She would lean in to kiss him right now if she could, but she’s not entirely sure how he feels about her, so she doesn’t.

He hops to his feet and tells her he’s going to the store and he’ll be back in a minute before speeding away, not bothering to listen to her reply. He has better things to be doing, like body slamming into Jubilee, apparently—a woman on a mission.

“Can we talk?” She asks.

He nods, following her into an empty room. They stand at the door on the inside of the room with the door closed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, bubs, but I do need to talk to you. But… Parker… She really likes you.” She breathes out. “She really really likes you.”

“I really like her. Really really like her,” Peter admits, running a hand through his hair.

“I think you’re tiptoeing around it,” she says bluntly, thoughts coming out of her mouth before she even has time to process. “She doesn’t know you like her. She’s been moping around all day because she thinks you hate her! And she told me how you were being really ungrateful when she was trying to help you earlier.”

Peter nods, staring off into space, uncertain of what to say next.

“Just tell her how you feel. Show her. That’s all she wants.” She pats him on the shoulder, and he unexpectedly pulls her in for a hug.

“Thank you.” He gives her a tight squeeze.

“You’re welcome.” She rests her hands on both of his shoulders. “You’re so gonna owe me, Maximoff.”

Peter splutters a laugh, blushing, and Jubilee laughs as they walk to the teacher’s lounge together. The food has now arrived, and Jubilee has left the room, in search of her best friend.

At the table set up in the room, crammed with everyone, probably isn’t the best place to be gawking over somebody, but Peter can’t help checking the doorway every two seconds.

He almost lets out a loud gasp when Parker walks into the room, her arm linked with Jubilee’s, dressed in his colour. She doesn’t look at him, instead going over to help take out plates and cutlery for everybody, turning her back to him as she talks to Jubilee.

“You’re practically drooling.” Scott nudges his arm.

“I’m hungry.”

“Mhmm, not for food.” Scott says quietly enough for nobody else to catch what he’s saying.

“Fuck you,” Peter laughs. Yeah, he can’t believe he’s thinking this but Scott is right. He’s just not admitting it yet.

He feels like he hasn’t fully picked his jaw up off the floor after seeing Parker walk into the room, dressed to the nines in her sparkling, silver dress, and a silver ‘P’ necklace around her neck. Parker sits opposite him after dinner is dishes up, her glittery dress clinging to her as she settles into her seat at the table in the lounge.

Peter’s heart races in his chest just looking at her, the way she’s smiling as she pours curry over her rice. Dinner is amazing, but there’s that tension in the air again as they all tuck in. He can feel her gaze on him as the others converse, they are the only two not talking to anyone, which to hear Peter not talking is a fucking miracle and a half. Their eyes never meet, her eyes locking with Jean’s when he tries to catch her gaze. She looks down at his plate, completely licked clean, and she blushes ever so slightly, wondering what his tongue could do in other places.

She can’t help but like him a little more. Peter’s joking with Kurt, well, Peter is speaking and Kurt is just nodding along, pretending to be interested, when Peter jumps suddenly. Her foot rests against his calf under the table as she crosses her legs for a most definitely innocent reason. He sits there, speechless and kind of, sort of in love.

Everyone stays at the table, talking late into the night. Parker’s attention is completely focused on Peter under the table, brushing her foot against his leg, watching the way he blushes, until someone says her name.

“Parker?” Logan questions her. Everyone else at the table is looking her way. “We’re playing; would you rather, you in?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, would you rather… Kiss me,” he says, flexing his arms. “Or Peter?”

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, Howlett. I'm not impressed." She replies, instantly. A chorus of 'Oohs' echoes round the room as the boys laugh. Hank punches Logan on the arm, laughing, and he hits Hank back. “I’d much rather kiss Peter.”

His stomach drops onto the floor, as does his jaw. “What do you think of that, Pete?” Somebody asks at the table, but he’s not quite sure who.

Everybody looks over to Peter as he starts talking. He’s speaking so quickly he’s not sure the words are coming out of his mouth in the right order, all jumbled up like the colours on a Rubix cube as he explains that he’s truly flattered she would pick him over Logan. He can’t resist looking over at Parker as the next question is asked.

She, to Peter’s surprise, looks kind of down. She’s laughing along to the answers but her heart isn’t in it, her laugh never reaching the loudness that he falls harder and harder for every time.

Parker gets up instantly, walking out of the room as everyone else starts clearing the table. He watches her trying to run away in her sparkly heels, and he wonders what just happened. He speeds up to Jubilee, who’s wiping down plates in the kitchen.

“Can you, um—“ He breathes out, eyes watching Parker disappear. “Keep everyone downstairs? Or at least away from Parker’s room?” He rushes out, looking at the girl with pleading eyes.

“Sure, but you really owe me now.”

Peter beams, wrapping her up in his arms before speeding away. “I mean it, you owe me!” She tells as he leaves from her sight.

Parker’s already in her room when he catches up to her, her chest heaving. He leans against the doorframe, and she still has her back to him.

“Are you alright?” Peter asks, chuckling to himself at how hard she’s breathing from just running up a few stairs. She turns around and looks him in the eye for the first time that night, smiling and catching her breath. He smiles back, taking a nervous breath before asking. “Can we talk?”

“You’re talking right now.”

“Haha, you’re very funny.”

“I live to entertain, Pete. Thank you.” She grins. The light in her room is soft, and weirdly romantic. He doesn’t know how to continue the conversation so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Nice shirt.”

She looks over at the purple shirt she was wearing earlier, now hanging back up on her coat rack. That's meant for coats but she doesn’t follow the rules. She chuckles, biting down on her lip. She prays he’s far enough away so he can’t see her blushing. But he can, and he loves it.

Peter and Parker are still watching each other, completely in the dark as to what’s going on downstairs, hearing crashing and loud, off-key singing coming from Logan, Hank, Scott, Jubilee and Jean since the rest have gone to bed. They can practically hear Charles’ eyes rolling.

“Wonder what kind of lecture we’re going to get off Charles tomorrow morning…”

Parker bursts into laughter after hearing some more wild shouts coming from downstairs. God, he fucking loves her laugh. And she loves his laugh. And they both swear if the other doesn’t say something else they’ll burst.

“I really like you,” Peter blurts out, unable to hold his words in. His heart races in his chest, unsure what to do in the silence as she watches him for a long time, their stares not breaking.

“I— I like you too, Pete.”

He feels like he’s shaking from the pure happiness running around inside him. He soaks in the moment for a second, just smiling at her.

“So, what does that mean for us—?” Parker starts, before getting interrupted by Logan and Jubilee skipping down the hallway.

“If that’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen…” Peter whispers, and they both erupt into laughter, both feeling a spark as Parker holds onto Peter’s arm.

Parker sits in front of her desk, wiping Jubilee’s makeup off her, her eyes scrunched together, and Peter thinks she’s the most adorable person he’s ever laid his eyes on. He watches from the doorway, arms folded over his chest, waiting for her to be done. She catches his gaze in the mirror and sticks her tongue out. He smiles and makes a face at her reflection, and she laughs quietly, smiling back at him.

Parker sighs as she gets up, walking over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest, careful not to hurt his aching body. She cocks her head, looking up at him, and he looks down at her lips, stained from the lipstick she was wearing. She moves in first, cupping his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss. He swears he feels a shock shoot down his spine as she presses her lips against his.

He pulls her closer, holding her as if she would disappear if he let go, his hands gently cradling her waist as they continue to mould their lips against one another’s. His hands travel slowly up to her hair, singers slipping between her locks.

Shit, he really fucking likes her. It could be love, he doesn’t know.

She’s laughing as she pulls back, noticing Jubilee standing in her doorway. She raises an eyebrow at Peter, smirking at the both of them, shaking her head as she leaves the room with one word and a laugh. “Idiots.”

—————

taglist: @xxlangdon @sympathyforher

want to be added or taken off? dm or ask me and let me know, my inbox is always open <3

#peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff #fluff #tiny bit of angst #quicksilver #jubilation lee #magneto #professor x #wolverine #quicksilver xmen #quicksilver xmen x reader #xmen fanfiction #xmen fandom #xmen #evan peters quicksilver #peter maximoff x oc

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ezzydean · 3 years

Note

“ i could have lost you today! do you know what that would have done to me? ” - Peter & Stiles

Stiles manages to hold his tongue until they’re safely tucked away in Peter’s apartment. Away from their enemies and allies alike. Away from the world that seems so determined to take every last bit of Stiles’ happiness and chew it into mush before spitting it out to dissolve on the concrete of the abandoned strip mall parking lot that is his life, complete with weeds struggling to survive as they spring up through the cracks and crawl across the pitted concrete.

So maybe he needs to take a few deep breaths and step back from the cache of flowing words and artful descriptions his creative writing class has tucked away in his mind.

It doesn’t matter what words he uses. He’s angry and frustrated and on edge and the way Peter is looking at him like he wants to pin him down and gobble him up is not doing anything other than make him even angrier.

“That was dangerous, Peter. Dangerous and stupid and ridiculous and if I’m saying it was stupid? Me. The undisputed king of doing stupid shit without thinking it through? You know it was fucking stupid.”

“Oh please.” Peter rolls his eyes as he saunters towards his bedroom to change out of his dirty clothes. “I’m a werewolf, darling. There is very little in this world that can even leave a scratch that doesn’t heal within a few hours.”

“Yeah and one of those things is a band of pissed off hunters who have gone rogue, no longer follow a code, and are systematically taking out smaller packs one by one.” Stiles doesn’t bother to raise his voice. One: because he’s tired. Two: because he knows that Peter can hear him no matter where he is in the apartment, even if he whispered.

He throws himself on to the couch, spreading out over it so Peter will have to either move him, sit on him, or sit in the chair off to the side when he comes back. Yes he’s being a little bit petty. But he had just watched Peter throw himself into a fight with a bunch of off the rail hunters who were hellbent on destroying anything and everything supernatural that they could. It doesn’t matter that Peter managed to not get hurt this time. It doesn’t matter that Issac and Derek had swooped in with an almost eerily synchronized move to pull the attention off of Peter.

Stiles had still seen it. He had seen the blade oozing with the twisted version of wolfsbane these particular hunters had been known for. He’d seen it centimeters away from Peter’s chest before he had been grabbed by Isaac and yanked out of the way. A millisecond later and that blade would have been in Peter’s heart. He’s going to be having nightmares about Isaac being too late for weeks. About Isaac reaching out and the blade already in Peter’s chest. About Peter on the ground bleeding and gasping and fading away because this particular wolfsbane blend is made to be quick and vicious and damn near impossible to burn out of a werewolf’s system.

Stiles is good. He can do a lot of shit. And maybe, maybe, if they were mated or bonded or had claimed each other or whatever he’d be able to save Peter even on the brink of death.

But they’re not.

He appreciates being the one to warm Peter’s bed and he knows that neither of them are with anyone else. But they’re not really even with each other so it’s only a small consolation.

Peter looms over him and Stiles peels his eyes open and glares up at him. He doesn’t let his eye rake over Peter the way he wants to. Doesn’t let himself give in to these instincts to curl around Peter and protect him.

Peter doesn’t want that. Peter doesn’t want Stiles to take up that position in his life. In his bed? Sure. On his side in a fight? Definitely. By his side in life? No thank you. Peter’s made it pretty clear where Stiles stands in that regard.

He gestures for Stiles to move his legs and when Stiles refuses Peter raises his brows. “What has you in such a mood? I barely even got a scratch on me and the hunters were put in their place. Everyone wins. Except the hunters, who are dead now.”

“Barely got a scratch?” Stiles hops to his feet, rage flooding him so fast that Peter actually leans back when Stiles leans towards him. “Barely a scratch? You were, quite literally, a hairbreadth away from death, Peter. If Isaac hadn’t grabbed you when he did you wouldn’t be here now.”

“But I am. Here and unharmed.” Peter reaches out for him and Stiles bats his hands away. “It was a risk, Stiles. We all take them every time we go into a fight.”

“Not all of us take unnecessary risks, Peter. You’re the one who taught me that unnecessary risks are just that: unnecessary.” Peter crosses his arms across his chest and takes a step back from Stiles.

“Be that as it may I still don’t see what has you so upset about this whole thing. So I took an unnecessary risk. What is the big deal?”

“The big deal? The big deal is that I could have lost you today! Do you know what that would have done to me? What losing you would do to me?”

Peter stares at him for a moment, words sinking in, before he scoffs and looks off towards the windows.

“You’d survive just fine without me. I’m sure you wouldn’t even miss me for that long. There are plenty of others out there who would fall over themselves to be with you,” Peter says quietly.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any of them. I want you, Peter. I don’t care how many people out there would be willing to be with me. I didn’t choose any of them. I chose you.”

Peter’s lip curls as he lets out a growl. “Oh, please. I’m not a choice. You know it. I know it. Hell even the hunters who come to try and kill us all know that I am, at best, a convenient fuck for you.”

Stiles’ mouth is already open to snap back when the mention of hunters makes him snap it shut. The hunters had been talking amongst themselves just before Peter had leapt into the middle of them and the whole plan had gone out the window. Is that what they had been talking about? Is that what they had said?

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Peter.” He waits until Peter drags his gaze from the windows and looks at him. “You’ve been my choice since before I even knew you were an option.”

“What?”

Well. This was either going to end in some really amazing sex and a new stage of their whatever they’ve been doing or it was going to ruin the best thing he’s ever had. But he is the undisputed king of doing stupid shit without thinking it through after all.

“You’ve been my choice since before I even knew you were an option,” he repeats. “The only reason I haven’t given in to my spark’s need to bond with you, to claim you as mine, is because you’ve never seemed to want anything more than a convenient fuck out of me.”

Peter’s eyes widen at ‘bond’ and ‘claim’ even as he winces at having the ‘convenient fuck’ part thrown back at him. He stares at Stiles and Stiles knows Peter is listening to his heartbeat and subtly scenting the air to measure the truth of Stiles’ words. Stiles learned a long time ago how to control his heartbeat and mask his scent but he had promised to never do it while the two of them were alone and fuck Peter is so blind if he can’t see all the ways Stiles bends for him where he’s steel for everyone else.

“You’ve never wanted that,” Peter finally whispers. “You’ve never—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “No.”

“I’ve wanted it since the day you gave me a key to your apartment and told me you trusted me with it. You. Peter Hale. Trusting me with the key to your apartment. The key to your safe—”

Well shit.

Peter was blind to how far Stiles was willing to bend for him and Stiles was blind to how much Peter had already bent by him by giving Stiles his trust.

“As much as I loathe to admit it about myself,” Peter says softly as he reaches out for Stiles. “We’re both idiots when it comes to each other, aren’t we?”

Stiles collapses into Peter’s arms with a laugh. “Yeah,” he huffs as he buries his face against Peter’s neck. “But I’m your idiot. And you’re my idiot. So I guess it works out in the end.”

“I guess it does, darling. I guess it does.”

#teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #wolfy writing #steter fic #prompt #cattatonically

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hiiraya · 3 years

Text

one last chance (rewrite)

masterlist

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

words: ~2,029

warnings: angst with a happy ending

requested:

a/n: part 2 of one last dance. hopefully i’ll post a nat fic in a few days, i miss writing for my other baby. happy reading!! ♡

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

"I wish you all the happiness in the world, Wan. Out of everyone in the world, you deserve it the most. So take care of yourself for me, okay?"

If only she knew then that she was at her happiness whenever she was with you, no matter where in the world you might've been, she would've never let you leave.

Like history repeating itself, it'd been months since she last saw you. Since anyone on the team had seen you in the flesh.

When you left that night after your dance with her, you did it in the way you knew best; quietly, without a fuss, not a single word to anyone on where you were going.

You were never one for causing a scene anyway.

Fury kept his promise to you about telling no one your whereabouts, much to chagrin of Wanda. It didn't help that you'd been around the Avengers for so long you'd picked up all sorts of tips and tricks to staying hidden whenever you needed your space.

Wanda knew she wasn't the only one missing your presence back at the compound (though she was the only one that outwardly showed it), but she had to respect your decision to go, hoping that something would bring you back to the team.

To bring you home.

She tells herself that she's happy.

Because why wouldn't she be?

She's married the man she loves, the one who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She's already chosen him, the weight of the gold band on her ring finger serving as a constant reminder of her decision.

She wasn't supposed to be longing for someone else.

Wanda had promised him for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish him until death do they part.

So, she's tells herself that she's happy. Because there's no other choice for her to take. She's happy even though there's you sized whole in her chest that continues to remind her of the way your eyes drank her in on the night of her wedding, memorising the sight of her face, the sight of her before you left for good.

Being who he was, Vision could tell that something was off with his wife.

He could see the change in her behaviour ever you left the reception that night all those months ago. He would see the looks she would give the door whenever she would pass by your old room, as if she was waiting for you to come out and greet her for the day.

From the moment you were gone, Wanda started to retreat back into her own shell no matter how many times she insisted that she was fine.

It hurt him to see her be excited to come home from a successful mission, to watch her look around for you, ready to share stories about what had happened, only to have the reality of your absence wash over her.

Every now and then Wanda would slip, telling the team “I can’t wait to tell Y/N about this!" or "Wait till Y/N sees this, she's not going to believe it!"

Everyone would only stare at her expectantly, and for a moment she was confused as to why until she remembered. The smile disappearing from her face before she excused herself to her room. He knew that there was no stopping the heaviness in her chest when she remembers that you weren't there anymore.

Because how could you be happy when the one person you love is hundreds of miles away from you?

"Wanda, can I ask you something?"

The look in her husband's eyes tells her that there really was no excusing herself from the conversation that they were about to have.

"Of course, Vis."

"First, I need you to close your eyes." He says, quickly adding a soft 'please' when she throws him a confused look. Nevertheless, she follows his instructions and lets her eyes fall shut.

"I want you to be honest with me, I'm not here to judge or pick a fight." She hears him walking towards her, only to feel the couch dip a few seconds later, telling her that he was sitting by her side, most definitely watching her reactions.

"If I tell you to go back to our wedding night, at the reception, who comes to mind first when I ask you to remember a dance from that night?" His voice holds no malice, no grudge or bitterness towards her.

She sighs as she lets her mind wander back to that night. The dance she shared with her husband should be the first one to come to mind, she knows this but it's not at all who she sees.

Instead she sees you, like she always does. She sees your smile as you held her flush against your body, sees the way your eyes studied her like you were trying to memorise everything and anything in that moment.

She sees you.

By the look on Vision's face when she opens her eyes, she knows that he's known for a long time. Maybe he's known all along.

He gives her a soft smile, nodding his head in understanding as he leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead before exiting the room.

You missed your home. You missed your family.

You wanted to say that leaving helped heal your heart, that your decision to leave was treating you well but you couldn't lie to yourself. Not when it was so painfully obvious that you were anything but fine being away for so long.

You missed helping Peter with his homework on the days that he would stop by the compound after school.

You missed the bickering between Sam and Bucky whenever they asked you to play mediator whenever they had their little arguments.

You missed being in the labs with Tony and Bruce, keeping them company and offering your opinions on their newest ideas when you could.

And even though you hated the way it left you with sore muscles and aching bones, you missed training with Steve and Natasha, the only two who could truly get your ass out of bed.

You missed everything that ever made you feel at home.

But you couldn’t go back. There was a reason why you left in the first place, and as much as you missed your family, you were a coward when it came to the matters of your heart.

You still loved Wanda and there was nothing you could do about it. You told Fury that you would only come back if they needed you. The fact that it had been months of radio silence from him, you just assumed that they were doing fine without you.

They didn't need you as much as you needed them.

But when Fury calls you about a rouge syndicate planning an attack using a chemical nerve agent, saying that they needed your help to create a antitoxin with Bruce if things took a turn for the worse, you don't hesitate in taking the next flight back to New York.

Thankfully, the team manages to stop the attack before it could even begin.

Since they'd been tracking the movement of the syndicate ever since they caught wind of the attack, they managed to track down the base they'd been using to create the nerve agent.

Still, you and Bruce create the antitoxin as a precaution.

But now that meant you had to stay in the compound until it was time for your flight back.

Everyone had been elated that you had returned that Tony threw a small party just for you and the rest of the team after returning from the mission.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

Ever since you all arrived back to the tower, you'd been actively trying to avoid Wanda, talking to whoever was around when you saw her looking at you from across the room.

It was a cruel thing to do but you couldn't help it. You were still hopelessly in love with her despite everything. You could feel the tension fall around room as everyone became quiet, trying hard not to make it obvious that everyone was waiting for your response.

Nodding your head, you meet her eyes for the first time in months.

"Lead the way."

It's silent as you head to your old room. Closing the door behind you, your eyes can't help but drink in the sight of the woman in front of you.

"What did you want to talk about, Wanda?"

She gestures for you to sit on the empty bed beside her.

“They say absence makes the heart fonder, but Y/N, all it did was make mine even more yours.” She starts, eyes downcast to her lap.

You furrow your eyebrows at her words but don't get the chance to ask her what she means as she continues to talk.

“For months, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m happy with Vision because that’s what I’m supposed to be right? I’m supposed to be happy because I chose him, because I married him so why wouldn’t I be happy with the decisions I’ve made?”

“Wand-“

“But I’m not. I’m not happy. I'm far from it. Every time he touches me, I can’t help but wish it was you. Every time he says my name, it sounds wrong coming from his lips. It feels wrong looking into his eyes and seeing them morph into yours. I find myself looking for you until I remember that you're not here, that you're god knows where. You're not here with me."

You too shocked by her words to realize that she's crying until she reaches up to wipe her cheeks.

"I danced with two people that night, Y/N. The one I married and the one I wish I had married instead.”

Your mouth drops open at that, you know you should say something, but you don't know what and even if you did, you were too scared that this was all just a trick.

She just missed you being around, that's all it was. She mistook missing you as thinking that she was in love with you.

“You left and it was like you took a part of me with you. You left and I didn’t know where to look for you. I love you, Y/N and I’m so sorry I let you go in the first place.”

You stopped her rambling there, leaning forward and kissing her lips before she could say more. Because when Wanda Maximoff looks at you like that, with apologies and honestly written all over her face, there’s not a thing in the word that could stop you from pressing your lips against hers.

“I love you too, but you already knew that. There isn’t anyone else but you.”

It's only after you two catch your breath that you remember something important.

“But what about Vision? Aren't you two still married?”

She offers you a sheepish smile as you look at her with concern, dread filling your chest at the thought of being the reason that Wanda was unfaithful to her husband.

“Actually, he was the one who actually made me realize my feelings for you.”

“So what you’re saying is-” You start. She nods as her smile grows, planting another kiss on your lips.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, moya lyubov. We’re not together anymore.” She finished.

Abruptly standing up from the mattress, you turn your body to face her, bowing slightly as you hold out your hand to her, palms facing up at you smile at her.

Wanda frowns at your sudden movement before a knowing smile appears on her face as she realizes what you were doing.

“May I have this dance?”

Her smiles grows up at you as she stands, nodding her head as she places her hand over yours. With your arms wrapped around her waist, her own around your neck, you pull her close and she can't help but think that this was where she was meant to be all along

“You may.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda x reader #avengers x reader #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #myfics.txt

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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Eleven

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Steve, Sam, Peter, OC background characters

Warnings: language, sexual implications and references, blackmail

Summary: Bucky decides it’s time to come clean to Tony, consequences be damned. Steve has his own bombshell, of sorts.

Author’s Note: Hi. I’m a lazy piece of crud. I wanted to post this earlier but I suck. It’s kinda short too, at least compared to previous parts. There will probably only be a couple parts left, maybe 2-3? I’m posting these chapters as I write so tbd in length lol. And as always, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed @charmedbysarge @cruelsummer-s

Series Masterlist

“Are you fucking insane?”

Everyone moved back to your apartment to avoid freaking poor Matt out any more. And now there was a standoff in your living room.

“It’s the only course of action that makes sense,” Bucky said in his defense.

“Buck, her dad will skin you alive if he sees those pictures,” Sam said. “Even if he’s somehow fine with it, she’ll lose her job!”

“If we don’t do this, that kid downstairs loses his family!” Bucky shouted back.

Sam groaned in exasperation and ran his hands over his face. “There’s gotta be a way to get the money.”

“There’s not,” you said defeatedly. All eyes turn to you. They initially looked to you for guidance, but your reliance on Bucky gave him the wheel on your own personal highway to hell. “Even if we do give this person the money, there’s only one person we can get that kind of cash from. Bucky’s right. We have to tell my dad.”

“[Y/N], maybe we should brainstorm some other options,” Peter nearly whispered, keeping his voice soft in the midst of the chaos. “I don’t want you to lose your job.”

“I’ll quit,” Bucky said suddenly. “I’ll quit being an Avenger and just do, fuck, private security? Or something.”

You could see the stress and fear and frustration written on his face. In a couple steps, you were standing in front of him and were able to cup his scruffy cheeks as you spoke.

“We’ll figure all that out later.” You perked up on your toes and gave him a short kiss. “But right now, we’re on a bit of a time crunch. I’d like to end this sooner rather than later so… let’s tell Tony.”

With Peter willingly sitting in the open trunk area of the Jeep, everyone was able to fit in one car back to the Tower. The tension inside the vehicle could’ve been cut, sliced, and diced with a knife. No one wanted to say anything, but no one really knew what to say anyway.

Steve was still silent. He didn’t say a word when you discussed telling Tony, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He had something to say, he just wasn’t saying it.

By the time you got to the Tower, you felt like you were gonna throw up. You held the envelope with the letter and media tight in your grasp, only letting go to open your door. The second your feet touched the garage floor, Bucky was right beside you.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, squeezing a little extra so you knew he was there with you and wasn’t going to let anything bad (worse) happen. Knowing he was willing to risk his entire livelihood for you made you love him even more. But you knew if it came down to it, you’d give up your position with the Avengers. Even with only two years spent at Stark Industries — just under a year spent with the Avengers (and nearly a year with Bucky) — you’d have no problem getting a new job with any other company. Bucky’s skills were put to the best use saving the world.

As the elevator approached the floor with your dad’s office, Sam finally broke the silence.

“Do you want us to be in there with you? I’m thinking it might be better if it’s just you two.”

You turned to see Peter wringing his hands, subconsciously agreeing with Sam — he clearly didn’t want to be in the room when all this went down but was putting on a brave face to be a good support system. Steve still stood silent with his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever was going on in that head was still festering.

“I think you’re right,” you agreed with Sam. “We’ll come find you once he gets the news.”

Your eyes met Bucky’s and even though he was trying to remain confident for you, there was fear behind those baby blues.

“We’ll be okay,” you said just loudly enough for him to hear.

When you reached the floor you’d been dreading, Sam, Steve, and Peter all turned to go to their designated rooms, partially because it had been a while since all of them had been back, partially to stay far away from the impending outburst.

You took a deep breath and started toward Tony’s office, just to be pulled back into Bucky’s arms. He held you tight, nuzzling his face in your hair and just holding you. You gripped the back of his shirt in response and just took a moment to appreciate the hard muscles of his chest and the weight of his arms around you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whispered.

Bucky let out a breath and kissed the crown of your head.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

This made you pull back and look up at him.

“Lose me? Bucky, I’m not going to let this affect us. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. I love you too much, Bucky Bear.”

The affectionate nickname made him smile, even if it was just a little quirk of the lips.

“I love you too, Build-A-Bear.”

You let him hold you for a couple more minutes before leading him to your dad’s closed office door. When you slowly pushed the door open, you saw Tony sitting behind his desk with half a dozen holographic screens open in front of him.

“Hey pumpkin, what are you doing here?” he asked, barely taking his eyes off his work for a second.

“Um, I kind of really need to talk to you.” Despite being on close speaking terms with your dad — the kind where you felt comfortable swearing in front of him and joking with him, even sharing some of your secrets — you felt like this was crossing a line.

Of course it was. You were in bed with (his perception of) the enemy.

Tony could tell something was wrong by how timid you sounded. You were always loud and bubbly with him — a quality you definitely got from him. He swiped all of the screens closed and walked around the large desk to stand in front of you. He briefly met Bucky’s eyes as the super soldier stood close behind you.

“What’s going on?”

“You-you should probably sit down for this,” you said shakily. Tony took the seat nearest you instead of walking back behind his desk. “So… you know how I’ve been dating James for, like, 10, 11ish months now?”

“And I still haven’t met him?” Tony said with a quirked brow.

“Yeah.” You forced a chuckle. “Well, when we were going through mail this morning, I… I got this.”

You held up the envelope before sliding out the letter and handing it to your dad. His expression went from curious to furious in seconds as his eyes scanned the entire page.

“They sent pictures. Pictures taken through my apartment windows of me and James. Being… intimate.”

“James who?” your dad asked, still staring at the letter. When you didn’t reply, he looked you in the eye, his expression hard as he demanded, “[Y/N], what is James’s last name?”

You took a short breath, the most your anxiety-gripped lungs could handle, and avoided his gaze as you replied.

“Barnes.”

Tony shot up from his seat, his eyes moving from you to the man behind you. The familiar feeling of a metal hand on your lower back helped ease the anxiety coursing through you at your dad’s reaction. When Tony took a step toward Bucky, you countered with a panicked step between them, looking up at your dad and pleading.

“He didn’t know who I was.”

“Bullshit,” Tony spat. He and Bucky were glaring at each other over your head.

“He didn’t, I swear. He found out the same day everyone else did.”

The grinding of his teeth let you know he was seething. But trying to hold it together for now.

“Let me see the rest,” Tony said calmly, holding his hand out. You reluctantly dropped the photos and DVD into his open palm. Bucky didn’t want to get too affectionate, so he just rested his hand on your hip while Tony flipped through the photos.

Everything was back in order, so he went through the same sequence you did: pap photos, to apartment photos, to sex photos. You could tell when the pictures turned raunchy by the way Tony’s face contorted, tossing the photos down shortly after.

“Friday, play the disc,” he commanded. The video played against the only blank wall in the room, the audio of you and Bucky playing through the speakers.

“Dad, you really don’t need to —” you started, quickly stopped by a sharp glare from your father.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“I’m gonna put a baby in you. I’m gonna cum inside this tight pussy until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony nearly growled. “Friday, shut it off.”

“I tried to tell you,” you murmured under breath, though not loud enough for him to hear. Bucky did hear it though, evident by the way he squeezed your hip.

Tony leaned forward against his desk, hanging his head in clear frustration. You knew better than to speak up while he contained his emotions, so you stood in silence with Bucky as your dad sighed heavily and spoke to himself under his breath.

“You just have something against me, don’t you?” Tony said accusingly to Bucky.

“Don’t do that,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to do that. If you’re going to get mad at anyone, it needs to be me.” You never got snappy with your dad, but everything weighing on your shoulders frayed your nerves and his attitude didn’t do anything to fix it. “I’m the one who knew full well what we were doing. I’m the one who had all the details. I’m the one who chose to risk everything for this from the start. So if you’re really that mad, take it out on me. Otherwise, help us. We’ll get to the semantics and firing and all that bullshit later. Right now, there are literal lives on the line.”

Tony was still fuming until he heard the last line.

“What do you means ‘lives on the line’?”

Bringing Steve, Sam, and Peter in helped all of you explain what happened, from the note you received to the first viewing of the photos and video to the confrontation with Matt, but not without Tony grilling all of them about when and how they found out about you and Bucky. Peter looked nervous about keeping a secret from his boss, but you knew your dad wouldn’t do anything too bad to the kid. Maybe kick him off a couple missions, but nothing noteworthy. Steve and Sam looked like they really couldn’t care less, especially since Sam was the last to know.

Despite still wanting to rip Bucky’s arm off and beat him with it, Tony remained civil for your sake, at least until all of this was sorted.

The first step was getting Peter, Happy, and Pepper to try to track down where the letters came from, which likely meant scanning for fingerprints (despite how many hands held it that day alone). The second step was for you, Bucky, Tony, Sam, and Steve to scope out your building and any neighboring buildings someone may have been scoping your apartment from. There was no one someone could’ve been dangling outside your windows without you noticing. The third step was meeting with your doorman again to try to piece together some answers.

You all agreed to keep local law enforcement out of it so the culprit didn’t catch on as quickly. Having a few Avengers and Tony Stark show up at Tony’s daughter’s apartment wasn’t out of the ordinary so you could still stay under wraps. There was no reason to draw attention to your place and possibly trigger the mystery person into accelerating their plans.

With your dad’s confidence in the plan, you gradually grew more and more optimistic about the plan. If all else failed, Tony would get the two million and continue tracking the fucker down. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak a tracker into the cash and watch where it goes once it’s out of your hands. That’s when you could bring in local law enforcement.

It felt like things were finally going your way.

As you and your crew headed downstairs to drive back to your place, Steve grabbed your arm and tugged you to the side.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and followed him down the hall; Bucky was busy talking to Sam and Tony was on the phone briefing Rhodey so he could stand guard outside your doorman’s place for a while, giving you the perfect opportunity to step away for a minute. When Steve pulled you into a side room, you finally spoke up.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

Steve crossed his arms and huffed. That signature frown of his softened when he met your concerned gaze.

“I know we’re not necessarily close, but I consider you a friend. You know that, right?”

“I consider you a friend too,” you said with a nod.

“What I’m about to say... I need you to keep it between us. Don’t tell Bucky or Sam or Peter or your dad. Just between us, at least for now. Okay?”

“O-okay...? You’re making me nervous, Steve,” you admitted. “What’s going on?”

“I think I know who’s blackmailing you.”

#SORRY IT’S SUCKY AND SHORT #I’M THE WORST #bucky x reader #bucky x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes series

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dalishthunder · 3 years

Note

Imagine....dualscar being tense and grumpy from a nights work on the ship...sitting down in his chair and reader comes out behind him to start rubbing at his shoulders....he has appearances to keep and doesn't like loosening his posture much but it's so hard not to melt under those warm hands

I actually wrote something that went down like that.... let me find it for you. It's between a servant reader and dualscar.... if that is your cup of tea (I'll put it under the cut in case it's not).

But just the thought of him melting..........

“Would you like me to go…?” You asked him, hoping beyond hope that he would say yes. It had been a while since you’d gotten a good sleep in. His first mate always had a task for you to do. Always. Without fail, something else. But if you slipped out now, maybe you could sneak back to your hammock before the sun rose.

He didn’t even turn his head to look at you as he spoke into his pillow.“I need your tiny little hands, there’s a knot in my shoulders. Work it out.” He unclasped his cloak and tossed it to the ground. Lovely.

You sighed, standing up and walking over to the bed. His armor was still on of course, but you weren’t going to mention that, no need to doff that if you didn’t need to. You just wanted this over as soon as possible… and with any luck he’d fall straight to sleep. You really, really hoped he was sleepy drunk.

Your fingers began to rub little circles at first at the top of the shoulders first.

“Harder.”

You applied more pressure.

“No. No, angles off. You should know by now how I like it.” He snipped, voice muffled by his pillow.

You ground your teeth, but hopped up onto the bed and straddled his back, kneading the base of his shoulder blades. He allowed it for a few minutes before speaking again.

“You’re going to have to take off the armor, sweetheart. I can barely feel you.”

“Of course.”

“’Of course’ what?”

“Of course, sir.” Your nostrils flared as you found the buckles on the side, working the stiff leather until it finally came loose. He shifted so you could slide it off of him leaving him only in a lavender silk chemise and pants.

Your palms pressed firmly into his back and you dragged up, eliciting a deep moan from the man below you.

“That’s the ticket.” The troll hissed, arching his back into your touch. You worked your fingers into his muscles, another shameless moan escaping his lips. “Just like that.”

Dualscar The Orphaner, Feeder of the Deep One wasn’t usually so… vocal.

“Mindfang is just so infuriating.”He moped. “That’s the third trade ship this sweep that she’s raided… the third fuckin’ one! That ship had off-world product on it! Four hundred and thirteen kilos of Timoorian steel just gone. She’s probably selling it off to the rebellion for a killing. It'd be endearing were she not such a piss poor kismesis…. She does this all the time. Wind me up with enough hatred to turn my bloodpump black then just fuck off to glub knows where doing glub knows what just leaving me stewing in my own concupiscent rage.”

Ah. He was chatty drunk tonight….

He went on and on as you worked his muscles, babbling like a brook. Mindfang this. The Condesce and Gl'Bgolyb that. You wanted nothing more than to zone out, but a talkative drunk could slip up information that could be used against him. So you listened, giving a thoughtful hum whenever the situation demanded, learning more and more about the intergalactic price of raw dafad wool against your will.

His monologue began to peter off after what felt like hours.

“Do you know why I chose you to be my personal attendant?” He asked suddenly, propping himself up just a bit.

“Because you’re not threatened by me.” You replied without hesitation. “And even if I tried anything an ocean surrounds us so there’s nowhere for me to go.”

“Well don’t we have a smarty pants here… Didn’t realize you could talk so much.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” You muttered under your breath.

Dualscar turned his head to grin at you cheekily, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you under him. “So small.” He murmured. “With such a smart little mouth.”

He was intimidating even on the best of days, but pinned by his weight with his face only inches from your own…. You couldn’t help but swallow thickly as you caught a glimpse of his shark-like teeth.

“Such fragile skin.” His grin widened, teeth so sharp…. So sharp, you could swear you saw serration on the edges. Not the uneven rows of a bull or mako shark… but the perfect even triangles of a great white. The troll bent his head down, tracing his lips along your jaw and down your neck. “I could kill you right now.” His breath was cool against your skin, the bristly hair on his chin scratching against you. “It would be so easy….” He dragged his teeth along the length of your throat, just hard enough for you to feel it.

“… To rip your windpipe right out with my teeth.”

It was all you could do to keep still as he gently bit down, cold sweat covering your skin. No self defense class had prepared you for this. You could feel your limbs trembling as you stared up at the ceiling, view obscured by his bright orange horns.

“Not that I would of course,” He murmured into your neck, chuckling as he pulled back just enough to plant a soft kiss where his teeth had been a moment ago.

You exhaled shakily, and he pressed his lips against your throat again, laughing. “There’s nothing to be scared of… I’m not actually going to hurt you.”

You gave a nervous chuckle, hyper-aware as the prickle of his stubble left your skin as he brought his face back up, pupils blown wide as his eyes met yours, cheeks flushed a deep lilac hue. Your breath hitched in your chest….

Dualscar was a handsome man, Probably one of the most handsome men you had met; Troll or human. High cheekbones, thick black hair, violet eyes framed by golden sclera and long dark lashes… even the thin jagged lines that scarred his otherwise perfect face gave him character.

He loomed over you, his weight on your arms was almost unbearably uncomfortable at this point, pins and needles prickling along your veins, as his eyes bored into your own. Until he closed them, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently as though testing the waters. You melted against him faster than you would ever care to admit, and you could feel the smile on his lips. His fingers lit fires under your skin as they slid down your arm to your waist and up against the small of your back. How long had it been since you’d felt the comfort of an embrace…?

Passionate. Insistent. Desperate.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer. You could taste sea salt and his drink, bitter and slightly citrusy, on his lips… So different from what you were used to.

His cool skin was a balm to the heated way he kissed you. You gasped as he groped your ass, claws pricking through the fabric of your pants, taking the opportunity to unceremoniously shove his tongue in your mouth. He absolutely reeked of alcohol but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, getting lost in the cold, foreign feeling as he explored your mouth.

You followed as he retreated, nipping his lower lip before running your tongue along it. He moaned, breath ragged as you dragged your nails along his scalp and behind his fins. You kissed him deeply, hands curling around his horns.

He gabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, Dualscar’s voice just a low growl in your ear.

“No.”

You whined as he nipped your jaw, lathing over the spot with his cool tongue. His free hand slipping under your shirt, blunted claws scraping against your skin as he kissed along your jawline and back up to your mouth. It was hot and needy, grinding his groin against your leg.

You pulled back, ducking your head to kiss his neck. He moaned, hand exploring your chest, thumb rubbing over a nipple, sending a shiver down your spine.

After a few more minutes, of licking and sucking his neck, careful to avoid the sharp plates in his gills, he finally sat up, breath ragged as he looked at you. Nudging you off the bed.

It was unexpected… and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done something wrong before he spoke once more.

“Now strip.” He was looking at you with a lazy smile, sitting upright, legs crossed.

You flushed, pausing for a moment, mouth slightly agape. The kissing, the groping, the humping… you had figured it would lead up to this, but you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Sure, plenty of people had seen you naked before, but this was far from your forte. It wasn’t that you were a prude or anything… but it had been longer than you’d like to admit. In your younger years you had been so focused on excelling in school, and completing college that romance hadn’t been your primary concern. You’d had a couple of datemates, but it usually didn’t last very long anyways. And since you’d landed on Alternia it wasn’t like you even really thought about romance… probably something about too busy trying to survive to really care.

You must have been taking too long because Dualscar reached out and took your hand in his, pressing his lips to your palm, dragging his sharp teeth along your skin. Giving you an altogether disarmingly charming smile.

#dualscar #dualscar ampora #dalish mail #suggestive #thundersou applesauce #feeling thorny

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5thmarauderwrites · 3 years

Text

The Thin Line Between Loathe and Desire — James Potter x Reader [Part I] | Request.

Requests are: OPEN.

Requested by Anonymous: “Could you do a James x gryffindor reader where they have a sort of rivalry because she keeps going around to ruin the marauders pranks since she doesn’t believe in Slytherins being ‘evil’. 💖💖 “.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor Reader.

Word Count: 4,9K

Warnings: Just cursing.

A/N: i LOVE a good enemies to lovers trope and i REALLY got carried away with this request lol i’m still finishing up the next part but since it took me a while to write this and the nonnie who requested it is basically waiting forever now, i decided to release the first part nonethless. hope you all enjoy it! :)

A delicious and inviting smell of food was coming from the Great Hall as the four Marauders crossed the main hallway of the castle in the direction of the door on the right side of the Entrance Hall, which guarded the stone steps that descended deep into the dungeons, where their destination, the Slytherin Dungeon, laid. The sun had already set and the thousands of corridors that made up the imposing fortress of Hogwarts were now empty and silent as the students lodged inside their own Common Rooms, resting from the exhausting day of classes and not so patiently waiting for the last and welcomed meal before they could tug themselves into their comfortable beds.

“The feast is starting soon,” Remus nagged as the boys tiptoed their way down the stone steps, feeling the air get a little chillier the deeper they went. As much as Remus loved his friends and not-so-secretly enjoyed playing harmless pranks in the other students, he couldn’t deny that James was taking things way too far this time.

“Yes, Moony, that’s exactly why we’re heading down into their nest right now!” The boy with untidy black hair that stuck up at the back retorted with an extremely pleased smile. “We’ll caught the snakes off guard by surprising them whilst they’re leaving their hole and L/N won’t be there to ruin our prank this time.”

“And here we go! Took you long enough to bring the name of your lover into our conversation Prongs,” Sirius teased with a lopsided grin as he eyed the darkness ahead of them. Remus and Peter both barked a laugh at Sirius’ words.

“Sod off, would ya Pads?” James growled, narrowing his eyes as he glared in Sirius’ direction. “It’s not my bloody fault that this – this – annoying, pretentious human being keeps ruining our fun repeatedly!”

“Oh mate, she doesn’t ruin my fun, quite the opposite actually,” Sirius grinned as he winged a brow at his best friend. “It’s extremely amusing to watch you two together.”

“I’ll have to agree with Padfoot,” Remus said as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and shrugged lightly, a playful smile playing across his lips.

James pursed his lips and chose to ignore his best friends as the boys arrived at the end of the long staircase, facing a vast and gloomy stone corridor hedged with detailed stoned pillars and armours ahead of them. He despised Y/N L/N with all the strength he could muster, ever since she ruined what was supposed to be the Marauders’ most epic prank on their first year at Hogwarts. Just the mere thought of the y/h/c girl made his blood boil inside his veins and his heart pick up its beating pace. How could a smart, daring and sassy Gryffindor like herself stand up for Slytherins with such enthusiasm to the point of fighting with her own housemates? James could never understand how Y/N could possibly reckon that “not all Slytherins are evil” when the majority of you-know-who’s followers emerged – and keep emerging – from this very house. The boy had spent countless nights thinking about it, but that was something he would never admit aloud.

“Mate, are you listening?” Sirius’ hand rested on James’ shoulder as the latter blinked repeatedly, trying to focus on his surroundings as he was slowly snapping out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” James mumbled, realising they were now standing in front of the blank stone wall that led to the Slytherin Common Room. “Where’s the bucket? Wormy, do you have it?” He asked with a firmly and more confident tone of voice.

“I do, Prongs!” Peter smirked mischievously whilst lifting a bucket filled with a silver, enchanted paint that shone alluringly despite of the dim light.

James and Sirius’ features lightened up at the sight, a feeling of pure excitement washing over their bodies as their minds anticipated in a very vivid picture what was about to come. Remus, however, wasn’t as nearly as pleased and happy as his friends; his face held a deep frown and the disapproval was crystal clear in his eyes as he shook his head negatively, severely glaring at his three best friends.

“Do you really think this is necessary?” The brown-haired boy asked, trying to dissolve the boys from their terrible idea one last time.

“Seriously, Moony? This is our best prank yet, we’re making history here!” Sirius exclaimed with a scolding tone, bouncing his hands in the air.

“History?” Remus asked incredulously, winging his eyebrows whilst his eyes widened. “How is writing ‘Death Eater Wannabe’ in people’s foreheads history?”

“We won’t be writing it Moony, we’ll be painting it,” Peter mockingly corrected him, a lopsided grin on his lips.

“Indeed, Wormy!” James wrapped Peter’s shoulders with his arm. “Besides, their faces will be painted with the Gryffindor colours first; the phrase that shows their true selves will only appear if they try to wash the scarlet and gold away.” He shrugged, a proud grin on.

“Sure, because a Slytherin would definitely wear their rival house colours with pride,” Remus scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s only obvious that they’ll try and wash it immediately!”

“Now that is not our fault, is it?” Sirius barked a laugh, earning a glare from Remus. “Lighten up a bit, would ya Moony? The paint will only last three days, the snakes will be fine.”

“Pad’s right! It’s just a fun, harmless prank; you don’t have to go full L/N on us, alright?” James grinned as he pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, shrugging lightly in the process.

“Mate, that’s the second time you talk about her in less than ten minutes, are you really sure you loathe the girl at all?” Sirius teased, squeezing James’ shoulder playfully and wiggling his brows.

“Fuck off, Padfoot!” James hissed as he shoved Sirius’ hand off his shoulder. “Let’s put our plan in motion.”

Sirius nodded, a glint of teasing still in his eyes as he stared at James with a playful defiance. After a while, he turned his attention to Peter. “Did you manage to squeeze their password from that twat Slytherin that was in detention with you yesterday?”

“I did!” Peter answered proudly and gave the raven-haired boy a small nod, clearly satisfied with himself. “I just had to brag about Gryffindor having the most creative and unobvious passwords and he quickly told me theirs and rambled about Slytherin’s cunningness.”

“Wicked, Wormy!” James bumped his fist against Peter’s shoulder in a congratulatory way, a wide smile on his face. “Very good! I think you should do the honours.” He added, winking mischievously and pointing to the stone bricks in front of them.

Peter grinned and straightened his robes as he solemnly stood in front of the wall, clearing his throat in the process. “Pure-blood” He said and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open, revealing a long passage that led to the Slytherin Common Room.

The boys hurried to carefully shut the door close before any Slytherin student could notice them lurking. From the quick glance they took around before that, they felt the room held quite a cold atmosphere, with all the flickering green lights coming from the greenish lamps that hung on chains.

“That’s quite a scary place,” Peter said weakly as a terrified frown took over his features. He was clutched at the back of Sirius’ robes.

“That’s just a Common Room, Wormtail,” Sirius said, shaking his robes so the boy would let go of it.

“A Death Eaters’ Common Room,” James shrugged, scrunching his face.

“Godric, you three are unbelievable,” Remus shook his head as he lowered it down a bit, massaging the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closing his eyes for a slight moment.

Smirking, James flickered his wand at the bucket filled with enchanted paint that Peter had put down on the floor. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The bucket flew graciously above their heads and stopped itself carefully right upon the Slytherin Common Room door. James’ devilish grin grew wider as he eyed his doing proudly.

“Come on! Let’s hide behind that pillar,” the Gryffindor Quidditch captain nodded to a carved stone pillar on their left that provided a wide viewing from the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room.

The other three Marauders signalled their agreement by nodding at him and quickly ran into hiding. James soon followed them, his wand still carefully pointed to the paint bucket. The boys – except from Remus – leaned forward expectantly, eagerly watching the door and waiting for their first victim to cross the portal.

“And,” Sirius sang, glancing at his watch whilst bouncing on his toes. “Any minute now.”

When the door swung open and the four boys eyed the little Slytherin crowd ready to make their way out, James promptly straightened himself up, waiting for them to cross the doorstep before he could turn the bucket upside-down and, therefore, maximize the casualties. At the perfect moment, the boy with hazel eyes and unruly black hair lowered his wand as quickly as he could; ready to watch the Slytherins being bathed in the magical paint. That, however, didn’t happen. The bucket stood still, floating above the door as the students passed by below it, marching in the direction of the Great Hall.

“What’s going on? Why isn’t the bucket moving?” Sirius frowned.

“I don’t know!” James answered exasperatedly, wielding his wand to the bucket and mumbling each and every spell he could possibly think of, but nothing seemed to work.

Remus did his best to suppress a laughter as James, Sirius and Peter hopelessly watched the last Slytherin student crossing the portal, closing the door behind him and waiting until it disappeared into the wall to walk away. Like the others that passed through the doorstep before him, he didn’t seem to have noticed the suspicious bucket that floated above his head.

“What the bloody hell happened?” James asked incredulously at no one in particular, coming off from behind the pillar and stopping underneath the bucket, angrily glancing at it.

Before anyone could say anything, a wicked cackle echoed through the now empty dungeon corridor and the bucket turned upside down, spilling its entire content on James, who unsuccessfully tried to shield himself with his arms.

A loud, amused laughter grabbed the attention of the Marauders as Y/N L/N emerged from behind an armour. “Nice job Peeves!” The girl exclaimed at the school poltergeist, her arms crossed across her chest whilst she leaned against the wall.

“Always a pleasure to ruin Potter’s day, L/N!” Peeves bowed theatrically, his wicked, dark eyes twinkling and his wide mouth curling up into an evil smirk.

The initial shock wearing off, Sirius barked a laugh as the poltergeist flew off the dungeons and sang cursing verses to James in the process. James glared at the raven-haired boy before turning his attention to Y/N, his fists clenched and his body – covered in the glowy enchanted paint that was slowly turning scarlet and gold – trembling with anger.

“You!” James hissed, narrowing his eyes at the y/h/c girl as he slowly started to walk in her direction.

“Me!” She teased with a grin, tilting her head back in a defiant gesture and winging her eyebrows.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing here, L/N?” He spat, getting closer to her.

“What do you think? Stopping another one of your stupid, reckless actions,” the girl retorted, pursing her lips and clenching her fists as she met James halfway.

The two stared intensely and angrily into the other’s eyes, noses and bodies almost touching as their features and shoulders tensed up with the proximity. Their fists tightened their grips as Y/N’s perfume invaded James’ nostrils and the smell of his shampoo and shaving lotion flooded her sense of smell. James could feel her hot breath dancing across the skin of his face, making it tingle and flooding him with its warmth as he did his best not to break eye contact and, therefore, lose their little battle for dominance.

“Oh, the sexual tension!” Sirius exclaimed after a while of steamy silence and James and Y/N could hear the satisfied grin in his voice. “That’s hot!”

“Sod off, Black!” The girl hit back in an outraged tone, still not backing away from James and his intense stare.

“Excuse you? Now you’ve wounded me!” The boy answered, theatrically leading his hand to his heart.

Y/N and James ignored Sirius as they seemed to be lost in each other, fuming with what they’d describe as mutually rooted, profound loathing.

“How did you know about this?” The hazel-eyed boy asked, breathing heavily. James could feel the air becoming heavier and harder to be inhaled.

“How could I not? Your big ego and self-gloating aren’t exactly discreet, you arrogant twat,” Y/N frowned deeply.

“I am an arrogant twat? I?” He cried out, getting closer to Y/N, his nose brushing against hers.

The girl jumped slightly with his sudden move but quickly recomposed herself, making sure he wouldn’t notice it. “Well, obviously.”

“I’m not the one walking around thinking that I’m so much better than everyone else, sweetheart,” he spat in response.

“Do I think I’m better than everyone else? No. Do I think I’m better than you? Definitely,” the Gryffindor girl took another step toward him, and now not only their noses were brushing against the other, but their bodies were almost glued together. James felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck.

“Are you two going to kiss?” Peter asked confusedly, blinking repeatedly as he looked back and forth between Y/N and James.

“NO!” The two rivals groaned in unison, turning their heads in Peter’s direction at the same time and unwillingly backing away from each other.

“It definitely seemed like you would though,” Remus smirked, amused, as he tilted his head.

“Oh, fuck you, Remus John! I’m way out of this daft dimbo’s league,” Y/N rolled her eyes at her sandy-haired friend.

“I’m the one way out of your league, L/N!” James frowned, poking his tongue slightly into his cheek, clearly offended.

Y/N glared at James from head to toe with complete disdain. “I suggest you go clean yourself up, Potter. Or maybe not, if you don’t want to have Death Eater Wannabe written on your forehead,” the girl laughed before turning on her heels and walk up the corridor in the direction of the staircase, leaving a huffing James behind.

“That girl is a fucking genius,” Sirius said nonchalantly as he eyed the y/h/c Gryffindor climbing up the steps.

“Genius? She’s a nosy know-it-all who thinks she’s above everyone else!” James spat in response.

“Oh come on, Prongs! Even you have to admit that your girlfriend was bloody brilliant using Peeves to prank you with your own prank,” he grinned lopsidedly.

James in fact agreed with Sirius, but he would never admit that. “She’s not my fucking girlfriend, would you stop with that?” he gritted, clenching his jaw.

/////////////////////////////////

James massaged his forehead with one of his hands, rubbing the place where the phrase Peeves Rocks was written in shimmery gold, mentally thanking the damn poltergeist for having changed his original spell a bit, as he laid in his bed. He much rather having this written down than Death Eater Wannabe, that was for sure. Actually, he preferred to have succeeded with his plan and having his forehead clean and normal, but thanks to L/N that wasn’t possible. Once again, strong emotions took him by assault as the girl crossed his mind for the hundredth time in the past hour.

“I can’t believe her, seriously. Did you see the satisfied smirk she had on her face when Peeves dropped the paint on me? She’s so bloody infuriating!” James frowned, steading himself on his elbows so he could glance at his friends, who had been chatting about something he wasn’t paying attention to.

The boys rolled their eyes, immediately knowing that that would be a very long rant. “And here we go again,” Remus groaned, covering his face with his pillow.

“Who does she think she is? She’s no queen of the enchanted land of Hogwarts,” James pursed his lips as he went on.

“Bloody hell Prongs, just ask the girl out so you can both relieve that sexual tension that has been tormenting you two for years now and move the fuck on,” Sirius grinned, as amusedly as he always did when teasing his friend about the topic in discussion.

James aimed for Sirius’ face and threw his pillow with all the strength he could muster, but the grey-eyed Black boy dodged it easily. “Fuck you.”

Sirius barked a laugh and soon, Remus and Peter joined him, all of them teasing their hazel-eyed friend. James flashed his middle finger at the three boys, an annoyed frown on his face.

“She’s extremely nice, you know,” Remus said nonchalantly as he crossed his arms behind his head. “And quite similar to you.”

“Not to mention she’s bloody hot,” Sirius shrugged, winging his brows.

“Why don’t you date her then?” James asked grumpily.

“Oh I’ve tried mate, but sadly, that girl never fell for my charm,” Sirius answered thoughtfully. “Besides, I would never go for my brother’s girl.” He added with an innocent smile and a wink as he climbed off his bed and hurried to the bathroom door.

James quickly followed his steps but Sirius was faster, getting inside the bathroom and locking its door before the hazel-eyed boy could catch him.

“I swear to Godric that the next time you imply I’m interested in her in the slightest I’ll bloody hex you, Padfoot!” James shouted, smashing one of his hands rather strongly against the wooden door.

“Well, truth hurts, doesn’t it Prongs?” Sirius’ muffled voice teased him from behind the door.

“Padfoot, I’m warning you…” James bumped the door once again amidst the loud sound of laughter coming not only from Sirius but from Remus and Peter as well.

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“You’re late, Mr Potter!” Flitwick scolded a breathlessly James as the boy opened the door of the Charms classroom after clearly running through the hallways trying to make it to class in time.

“Sorry, Professor,” the boy answered, glancing around and noticing that the only available seat was next do Y/N L/N. He immediately rolled his eyes.

“Come along,” Flitwick motioned for James to come in. “We're experimenting with Nonverbal Spells today, we've already divided into pairs – you can sit next to Miss L/N and work with her.”

Knowing it was pointless to argue with the Professor, James nodded and dragged himself with a shuffling gait to the table he was assigned to, not bothering to hide his unpleasantness.

“Hi, Potter!” The girl teased, a wry smile on her lips, as James seated next to her. “Glad to see you’re feeling well! Heard you got a nasty food poisoning that took you off classes for the past three days.”

James’ face was immediately taken over by a profoundly annoyed frown, Y/N knew very well that she was the reason he had been unable to attend classes. “The only poisoning thing in this castle is you, darling.”

Y/N laughed and faked a pout at him before turning her attention back to Flitwick, who was explaining how the pairing would work in this specific lesson.

“For today’s lesson we’ll be using the Mending Charm!” Flitwick exclaimed excitedly. “This charm, as you know, repairs broken objects. You have a shrunken desk in front of you with four broken legs. Each one of you will be responsible to mend two of them and you’ll compete against your own pair. Let’s begin!”

The class hurriedly started to work on their legs, everyone eager to be the first to succeed. Y/N straightened herself in her seat and graciously grabbed her wand from the table.

“This is going to be a piece of cake!” She said cheerfully, purposefully wanting to annoy James.

“You think you can beat me, L/N?” The boy quirked a brow.

“I don’t think I can, I know so,” Y/N gave him a skewed smile.

James huffed in response whilst rolling his eyes. There was no way he was going to let her win.

Non-verbal spells were very difficult and required a good deal of practice, concentration and mental discipline, which made performing them successfully particularly even more difficult for teenagers. The entire class was noticeably having a hard time; even Lily Evans, who were one of the brightest students from their year, was looking like she was constipated due to the amount of effort she was putting into her attempts.

“You alright there, Potter?” Y/N asked sarcastically when she noticed a swelled vein popping on his forehead as he tried for the umpteenth time to repair the legs of the shrunken desk.

“Would you mind your own business? At least I’m trying to do something here, unlike you,” James hissed in response. “Have you given up already?”

Y/N just smiled wryly at him and turned her head to the little desk, flickering her wand. The two broken legs on her end clicked together and half of the desk was standing again, two of its legs perfectly fine.

“Look, everyone! Miss L/N successfully performed the first non-verbal spell in the class! Well done, Y/N!” Flitwick clapped his little hands excitedly.

“You were saying?” Y/N teased James with a triumphant look on her face.

“You obviously cheated!” The hazel-eyed boy spat in annoyance.

“Excuse you? It’s called talent; I don’t need to cheat to beat you!” She retorted, offended.

“Yeah, right! You used some non-verbal spell that we weren’t supposed to just so mine wouldn’t work, admit it!”

“Oh, sod off Potter! Stop being a sore loser!”

“Here we go again,” Marlene McKinnon sighed from her seat, rolling her eyes like the rest of the students.

Y/N and James engaged on a fiery argument for the short rest of the class, much to the amusement of Sirius and to the dismay of Flitwick and the majority of their classmates. The two Gryffindors seemingly missed the ring of the bell that announced the end of the class and also the students leaving the classroom one by one, as once again they were too wrapped on each other to be aware of their surroundings.

“Should we tell them the class is over?” Peter asked Flitwick unsurely, as they eyed Y/N and James from the Professor’s desk, Sirius and Remus with them.

Flitwick sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “No, let them be,” he answered, starting to walk away from the classroom and motioning for the boys to follow him.

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The full moon wasn’t gentle in the slightest with Remus. He had a particularly rougher time last night and his whole body ached with deep, fresh scars. Clotted blood covered the scratches and cuts as he laid on a bed in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had cleaned his scars and applied a potion to help with the pain and the healing process but the boy was still suffering nonetheless.

“How is he?” Y/N stormed in, asking no one in particular as she clutched into a piece of the bed curtains, frowning worriedly.

“Hey, Y/N/N. I’m ok,” Remus answered weakly with a smile on his face, trying to sit up.

“No, no, no! Stay still!” The Gryffindor girl hurried to stop him. “Godric, I was so worried! I was waiting for Sirius’ note to know if you were okay but it never came.”

“Sorry about that, he had a rough night and we couldn’t leave his side. This full moon was particularly hard on him,” Sirius apologized, rubbing her back gently as he tried to comfort her.

“Wait, does she know about Moony’s condition?” James scrunched his nose incredulously.

“Of course I do, you twat. He’s one of my closest friends,” Y/N glared at James with despise.

“Please, would you two behave yourselves and try not to fight this time? Your arguments are more painful than all of these scars combined,” Remus joked, groaning in pain as he tried to switch his position.

“Oh, come on, Moony! They’re quite fun to watch,” Sirius grinned lopsidedly, offering his hand to Remus so he could help him.

“I do agree myself,” Peter laughed, mockingly shrugging his shoulders and pouting.

Y/N rolled her eyes and waited until the boys were chatting distractedly before walking over to James, who stood a little further to them. She had a thoughtful expression and her brows were furrowed as she approached him, fiddling with her fingers furiously. James had been studying her every move curiously and noticed Y/N was uncommonly anxious, finding it strange that the overly confident girl was displaying such an unusual behaviour. The boy with unruly black hair widened his hazel eyes in shock when she suddenly leaned in the direction of his face, his figure becoming painfully aware of their proximity. An involuntary electrical current awakened his now tensed body whilst a lump started to take form in his throat, but James brushed the odd feeling with a quick shake of his head.

“What? I’m not going to bite you,” she grimaced impatiently at the flustered boy.

“Well, you leaned in out of the blue, I’m sorry if I was surprised!” He retorted with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck and hoping that the heat he felt on his cheeks didn’t mean he was blushing.

Y/N furrowed her brows at his response, but her features slowly relaxed and a playful smile took over her lips as his words sank in. “James Potter, did you think I was going to kiss you?” She quirked her brows amusedly as she teased him, crossing her arms across her chest. “Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart.”

“As if I would ever dream about you,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “What do you want?” He asked in a cold and harsh tone of voice.

“We need to talk,” she said, once again looking anxious. Y/N grabbed his arm and dragged him to a distant bed, closing the curtains that surrounded it and turning around to face a very confused James.

“Have you ever heard of the Wolfsbane Potion?” Y/N almost spat the words as she fiddled with her fingers, gazing at the floor.

“Wolf what?” James frowned in confusion, tilting his head a little.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me?” Y/N rolled her eyes, the confidence seemingly returning to her snarky self. “The Wolfsbane Potion, it’s a relatively newly formulated potion that relieves, but does not cure, the symptoms of lycanthropy.” She explained, this time staring into James’ eyes.

“Meaning?” James shrugged crankily, crossing his arms across his chest. He had no idea what she meant discussing potions with him after a long and tiring full moon. Maybe this was a prank of some sort?

“Godric, are you really that daft?” She grimaced incredulously. “Meaning that the transformation wouldn’t be as nearly as painful for Remus as it currently is. This potion will allow him to hold on to his mental faculties after becoming Moony.”

“Hold on, are you telling me that Moony would be a werewolf but still think and behave like himself? That would be awesome! I didn’t know that it was possible!” James’ features lightened up. “He would finally stop beating himself up for things he can’t control.”

“Exactly!” She smirked, nodding excitedly. “He deserves that more than anyone I could ever think of.”

“For once I agree with you, L/N,” James winged his eyebrows, a lopsided grin on. “How do we brew this?”

“I’m sorry, we?” Y/N frowned, the smile slowly fading from her lips. “This potion could be extremely dangerous if incorrectly concocted so, I’m sorry, but your average Potions skills aren’t fit for this task.”

“Average?” The boy huffed, displeased. “And I suppose yours are?” He asked with despise.

“Precisely,” Y/N shrugged, the ends of her lips curling up in a wry smile. “I received an Exceeds Expectations in my O.W.L.s.”

“Oh, yeah, because you’re so much better than the rest of us plain mortals,” James sneered in a mean tone of voice, his face completely disgusted. “Tell me, is this potion even real or did you just thought it would be fun to prank me by using one of the people I care about the most to humiliate me?”

Y/N frowned in shock as her mouth fell open and James felt bad almost immediately, noticing the hurt clear in her y/e/c eyes. “Do you think I’d ever toy with Remus’ life like that? He is my best friend too you egocentric – arrogant twat!” She spat, pursing her lips and clenching her fists with a slow, disbelieving head shake.

“Look, I‘m- I’m sorry ok? I know you wouldn’t,” he heaved a sigh, massaging his forehead as he let his head fall into his hand. “How can I help?” He added after a few minutes of silence, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring into Y/N’s eyes.

“I’ll accept your apology, only because I’ll need you to help Remus,” Y/N said, lifting her chin up as she glared displeased at James. “First, we’ll have to enter the restricted section of the library.”

James nodded thoughtfully as the two of them unsurely eyed the other.

#au #imagine #writing #james potter #james potter x reader #harry potter #james potter imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #the marauders imagine #the marauders x reader

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toomanyrobins · 3 years

Text

a little birdie told me pt. 7

Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader

Content warning: physical abuse, miscarriage, cursing, mentions of forced marriage

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: thank you to @firefly-graphics for the team cap divider! Makes my life much easier! 💛

Series masterlist // next part

The next morning, Steve heard someone clearing their throat. He opened his eyes to see a familiar face standing at the foot of his bed with his arms crossed. “Peter, what the hell are you doing?”

“What the hell am I doing! What the hell are you doing? Why is my sister in your bed?”

Steve looked down and saw Y/N burrowed under the sheets. He knew she hadn’t been sleeping well and hated to wake her up. “Let’s go talk in the kitchen.” he put on the coffee maker before turning back to his fuming friend, “Birdie stayed over last night after I had to rush home because Jaime was sick. She stayed to help with him and we fell asleep.”

The tension started to leave Peter, “Oh, is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Look, I get that you’re especially overprotective since Y/N came home but if she had woken up first and saw you, she would’ve been pissed. We are both adults and don’t deserve to be treated like criminals for what we decide to do.”

“You’re talking like something might happen.”

“Do you want to hear it?” Peter nodded, “Yes, I like your sister. She’s amazing and I enjoy every second I spend with her. I don’t care about her past and I hope she doesn’t care about mine. We both have made choices and we live with the consequences.”

“You like my sister...how long?”

“I don’t know. She used to just be your sister, the other half to the problematic duo that was her and Becca. Since she’s been back, something has changed.”

“Is this your savior complex?” Peter scoffed at the scandalized look on Steve’s face, “Don’t look like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Before I grew up, I was as strong as a limp noodle, and you and Bucky were always there to pull someone off of me. I just want to be sure you actually want Y/N because she’s Y/N and not because you think she needs saving."

“This isn't like you picking fights with guys double your size. I’m not doing this to hurt you, Parker. But whatever relationship I choose to have will be between us and I hope you can understand that. Because I won’t be the one to make her choose.”

“I hate you a little bit for this,” he ran a hand through his already unruly hair, “I kind of want to punch you.”

“Well Bucky punched Sam when he proposed to Becca. If I get that far, you can punch me.”

“Fine,” Peter took the cup of coffee Steve gave him. “So, when are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I’m scared she’ll say she’s not interested.”

“Well, I’d do it fast, before someone else notices how great she is.”

The duo decided to switch over to discussing some business, until they heard some noise coming from the baby monitor. Peter knew he should leave Y/N woke and made a quick escape. Steve walked back into his room, opened the curtains, and put a cup of coffee on the bedside table closest to Y/N. He peeled the blankets back and shook her softly. The only response he got was a grumble and her burying her face in the pillow. He decided to grab Jamie and let her slowly start to wake up. The baby at least was happy to see him that morning and kept saying dada over and over again. Steve brought Jamie into his room like he did every morning and put him on the bed next to Y/N. He immediately started to climb on top of her, wanting attention. “Sweetheart, you have to wake up. We have a visitor.”

“What?” The throaty morning voice that she spoke with sent shivers down Steve’s spine. She slowly sat up and kissed Jamie.

He handed her the mug. “A guy could get used to mornings like this: coffee, baby, and a pretty girl.”

Her face grew warm, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crash so hard.”

“No need to apologize. We were all tired. Drink your coffee and I’ll drop you off on my way to the Ivory.” The trio moved slowly, enjoying the lazy morning. It hit Steve how comfortable and easy this morning was and that he wanted this to happen again. Their eyes connected in the mirror and she smiled at him. He spun around, “Would you be my date to the holiday party?”

“You want me to be your date?” Steve nodded and she bit her lip, “Yeah, I’d really like that, Stevie.”

He groaned, “What have I said about calling me that?”

“Follow through and I’ll stop.” He chuckled at her cheeky response and finished getting ready. They managed to get out the door on time and while she was bent over buckling Jamie in, she felt a sting on her ass. She whirled around, shock painted her face, “Did you just spank me?”

“You told me to follow through. I’m just doing what I’m told.” Steve walked to the driver’s side, leaving Y/N standing beside the car, a smile on her face.

A week later, Y/N walked into Steve’s apartment, garment bag draped over her arm, make up and hair already done. They had agreed that she would come over to help with Jamie and they would finish getting ready together. All of them would be spending the night in rooms at the Ivory since this party was known to get rowdy. She was glad to see that their overnight bags were packed for the night and she put hers down as she called out for him. “I’m in the bedroom!” She found him standing in the center of the room in just his trousers and unbuttoned dress shirt. He had a look of deep concentration, his tongue peaking out between his lips as he struggled with his shirt. Y/N laid her dress on the bed before Steve threw his hands up, “Can you help me with these damned cufflinks?”

She laughed at his struggle, laying her things on his bed and taking his sleeve in her hands. “I can’t believe you still are wearing these things.” They had been a gag gift from her their first Christmas after he became her guard. She had bought him Tweety Bird cufflinks and told him that he would always have a little birdie with him even if she ran away from him. She switched arms, “How did you get anything done before me, Rogers?”

Steve looked down at her, “I’m not quite sure, Birdie.” She stepped closer to him and started doing up the buttons of his shirt like it was a common practice between them. He held his breath, worried that the intimate moment would end if he made any quick movements. When she reached the top, she smoothed his collar down, her fingertips grazing his neck. She put her hands on his chest and smiled up at him, “There. Now I’m sure you’re capable of tucking your own shirt in. Yes?”

He simply nodded, worried at what pitch his voice would come out. Y/N grabbed her dress and walked into the en-suite bathroom to change. Steve took a deep breath, his skin burning where her fingers had brushed. He walked into his closet, trying to decide on which tie to wear. His decision making was interrupted by his name being called again, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Could you zip me up? I can’t get it.” Steve cursed up his breath, this girl was going to be the death of him. He walked into the bathroom and got the first look at the dress Y/N had been hiding from him. She spun around, letting the skirt swirl, “Worth the wait?”

“You look gorgeous.” Y/N blushed at his compliment and turned around so that he could zip her up. He purposefully took his time, dragging his finger along her back even after he reached the top of the zipper. When he reached the base of her neck, he left a lingering kiss where his hand stopped and walked out without another word. She let forehead come to rest against the cool countertop as she tried to get her hormones under control. The two of them had been playing this cat-and-mouse game for too long and it was leaving the both of them incredibly sexually frustrated.

Y/N had picked Steve’s tie to match her dress, ignoring his smirk when she chose it. He put everything in the car and the trio drove over to the Ivory. Steve’s hand found its way to rest on her thigh as she sang along loudly to the Christmas music on the radio. They handed the keys to the valet and made their way up to their adjoining rooms. Steve and Y/N quickly dressed Jamie up in his little suit that was too almost too cute to handle. She pulled on her heels and straightened his tie before they made their way down to the ballroom and marveled at the expert work that had been done. Tony and Pepper had decided on a White Christmas theme and the decorations were done to recreate the final scene of the movie. Giant trees were in every corner of the room and garland was strung across the room. An orchestra in the corner was playing music and everyone was in their finest outfits. They greeted their families and everyone was passing around well-wishes. They were complimented on what a striking pair they made and She tried to hide how flustered she was by Steve’s hand coming around to her waist and pull her closer.

Suddenly, Y/N heard her name being called. She spun around and groaned when she realized it was Alice Jones calling for her. That bitch had made her life hell in high school and the last thing she wanted to do was make small talk with her gang of women. She threw her shoulders back, plastered a fake smile and made her way over. Alice greeted her with a kiss of both cheeks, making Y/N roll her eyes internally. All of the women greeted her like they were old friends.

It did not take long for each woman to be trying to up the other of how great their lives were. Thousands of dollars worth of jewelry was flashed as they bragged about their husbands and fiances. Suddenly all of the women were looking past Y/N and fixing their appearances. She looked over her shoulder, confused, and realized that Steve was coming their way. He nodded quickly at the women before turning to Y/N, “Could you take Jamie for me? I need to discuss some things and his cuteness is a distraction.”

“Of course. Give me my little man,” she made grabby hands and Steve handed the baby over, who was all too happy to be with her. He babbled away as he played with her necklace.

The blonde gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, “Thank you for this. I shouldn’t be too long.”

When Y/N turned back to the group, they were all looking at her like she had grown another head. She laughed awkwardly as they bombarded her with questions. She tried to answer them gracefully and without giving away any actual information. No one but she and Steve were entitled to know what they were to each other and if she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t even sure where they stood. They had become incredibly close since she had been back, even more than before and it seemed that they were both waiting for something to push them over the edge and it never seemed to come.

She let her eyes roam over the ballroom. Indy and Peter were off to one side looking like they were discussing something serious as she tried to get him to put down his drink. George and Tony were off to the side speaking with the latter’s old friend, Colonel Rhodes. She watched Steve shake a man’s hand and then walk over to the bar and start talking to Bucky. Alice placed a hand on Y/N’s bare arm, drawing her attention back, “Well we are so glad to see that you’ve finally settled down,” The group of women tittered away, “I mean I remember in high school how all over the place you were. A nightmare! You’ll have to tell us how little old you managed to snag Steve Rogers.”

Y/N smiled at Alice, “Well I suppose I was a bit all over the place. Not all of us can spend so much of our time in one place on our knees. If you ladies will excuse me.” She quickly made her escape and headed towards the bar. Y/N’s attention was drawn away by Steve and Bucky, who quickly traded her a drink for Jamie when he saw the stormy expression on her face. “What a loathsome bitch.” Steve snickered at the disdain in her voice and looked over to see that the group of women was watching them. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, partially shielding her from their gaze. He was sure it looked like he was whispering dirty secrets to her and it wouldn’t take much for him to start. They had been swirling through his head all night. “You’re an amazing woman. Don’t let them get to you.” Her grip slowly relaxed on the champagne flute and Steve nodded as he ran his fingers along her spine, “Good girl.” Y/N tried to hide the fact that the praise from him had any affect on her, but he knew her and noticed the slight shiver that ran down her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@founding-fuck-bois

@animegirlgeeky

@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

@directorsnarrative

@marvelofwitch

#avengers au #avengers imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #mafia!avengers #mafia au #mafia!steve #mob!au #mob!avengers #mob!steve #steve rogers #steve rogers au #toomanyrobins #avengers #avengers x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #mafia!steve rogers

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harryspet · 4 years

Note

dark peter parker x innocent naive reader (or ofc it doesn’t matter) non-con fic?

CAMP KISSLESS | peter parker

[WARNINGS] dark peter parker x reader (Y/N), virgin reader, noncon sex, outdoor/car sex (public?), peter isn’t very friendly neighborhood spidery in this

A/N: I’ve wanted to do a camp au for a little while so that’s why I chose this setting! This ended up being way longer than I thought it would be. Read at your own risk.

In which your the new camp counselor and you’re excited to start your job but Peter has other plans for your summer.

word count: 2.7k

It was gonna be a great summer.

It wasn’t your first summer at Camp. No, your parents drove you to upstate New York every summer since you were eight and you stayed at Camp Moonfall for three weeks out of the summer. You always made the best memories there but, now that you were older, you were saving up for college next semester. Now that you were eighteen, you felt responsible enough to get a job and of course, Peter put in a good word for you.

You remembered the summer before, all the counselors had let you join them around the fire since you were older. That’s when the game of never have I ever happened and that’s when you changed the way you looked at Peter. You always thought he was cute but with him smiling around all his friends, the firelight illuminating his skin, you developed a small crush. He was a year older than you and you remembered saying how you were going to miss him during your Senior Year.

He smiled at you, of course, and your heart fluttered.

It was in that game that everyone learned your secret about how you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet. They looked at you, shocked, and you would’ve preferred if they had just teased you rather than pitied you. You didn’t care that you hadn’t had your first kiss because you were waiting for magic. You wanted to settle for nothing less.

“So who’s first on your list?” Peter had asked you and you raised an eyebrow. He turned his marshmallow over the fire, letting it brown, “Your kiss list? Who’s your dream first kiss?”

“Thor, I think,” You joke to Peter and he only rolled his eyes.

“Haha, Y/N,” He spoke sarcastically, “But I’m serious, who’s number one?” For a moment, looking in his eyes, you could’ve sworn he wanted you to say him.

“I don’t have one,” You slouched back in your chair, “Whoever it is, I want them to be the one I marry.”

All of their eyes turned to you, even Peter as if you had said something offensive, “What?” you asked.

“You should save it for as long as you can, Y/N?” MJ said across from you, easing the tension, “High school boys are Satan's spawn. And I hear college boys aren’t far off.”

For the first day of camp, your outfit consisted of a tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of running shorts. You had dreamed of carrying the clipboard you now possessed. Along with the wooden whistle around your neck, you felt complete.

MJ pointed at a gray minivan parked in a long line of cars where parents were unpacking their kids, “Y/N, can you check them in?” You immediately nodded

She remembered her training, all eight hours of it, and took a deep breath as she approached the family. The Dad was lugging things out of the trunk and the mom was rustling around with her triplets.

“Good morning, campers! I’m Y/N” You greeted them with a wide smile, hands tight around your clipboard. The kids didn’t seem to care much about you but you could get used to that, not every child was gonna fall in love with you, “Hope you all are excited for the best three weeks of your year. Can I get the last name?”

“We’re the Nelson’s,” The woman muttered, clearly not excited to hear your chipper voice this early in the morning. She pointed to each child and named them off.

You looked down the long list of names and easily found the three Nelson’s. You took a look at each boy, knowing you’d have to remember all of them, “There, found ya! Are these all of their things?”

The father nodded, three suitcases and several pool noodles on the ground, “You got a bellhop, Betty?” He spoke, clearly not bothered to know your name.

You looked down, still trying to smile wide as you crossed off the names, “Uhm, if you carry your things over there, someone will be there to carry their things to their cabin. Someone will also be there to take the boys down by the lake and they can join in the welcome festivities. You guys can say goodbye there and that’s when your vacation begins, Mom and Dad.”

You expected a smile or a nod of approval but you got cold stares, “We want to make sure they get settled in and see where they will be living. You can’t expect us to say goodbye now.”

Your smile fell a little bit but you kept your composure, “Well, here at Camp Moonfall, we want to keep the goodbyes short. When you took the tour, you were able to see the campsite. It’s very safe. We just find it’s easier for kids to adjust without the big, emotional goodbyes. It helps the homesickness when you start the fun right away,” You thought your smile would somehow lift their spirits but it only crushed yours.

“Could you stop smiling like an idiot? You’re an adult, aren’t you? They must be hiring the mentally incompetent here, Diane,” The father said to the mother.

Your heart sank and your lips parted to say something but the words didn’t leave, “I’m going to that cabin, sweetheart. Do you know what it’s like to give birth to triplets? I spent nine months with these kids and you aren’t gonna rip them away from me. I was in labor for twenty hours!”

“I-I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just telling you the camp policy. We just find that it works best-”

The dad interrupted, mimicking your voice, “We just find that it works best. God, Diane, I told you this was a bad idea.”

“My mother said this would be a good experience for them!” The Mom yelled back at the husband, she held her boys closer to her, “The boys are not staying here. It seems like there’s something in the water here anyways …” The woman scowled at you.

“I-I can g-get my supervisor-”

“And now she’s stuttering,” The father rolled his eyes, starting to grab their things and put them back in trouble, “Get in the car boys.”

How could your first time at this have gone so wrong? You clutched the clipboard to your chest, tears stinging your eyes.

A second later you felt a hand on your shoulder, “What’s going on, Y/N?” He looked at the family then back at you.

You just shook your head. He could tell you were about to start bawling, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Go back to your Cabin and collect yourself,” You nodded and instantly walked away.

You heard Peter talking to the family, hoping to solve the issue so that the boys didn’t miss out on camp because of their crazy parents.

“I did it. I saved the triplets,” Peter entered the girl counselor’s cabin, a soft grin on his face. He saw where you were laying on your twin bed and sat down on the edge, “I might regret it later because the funny looking one with the mo-hawk looks like a biter.”

You didn’t laugh, just pressed your face further into the pillow. Peter’s hand rested on the small of your back. You felt him start to rub circles there and that level intimacy enticed you as much as it scared you.

“I suck,” You spoke but it came out muffled.

“You don’t suck,” Peter insisted, “They sucked, hard,” That made you laugh. You turned your body to look at him and his hand moved to your waist, “You’re gonna have a good rest of the day. You’re gonna go swimming, eat hotdogs, and play way too many rounds of hide and seek. It’s gonna be awesome and you’re gonna have to perk up if you want to steal my title as everyone’s favorite counselor.”

You snorted, “Really? I recall Ned being everyone’s favorite last year.”

Peter faked a frown, “The man can make a mean s’ more.”

Absentmindedly, your hand touched his and you moved it away quickly. Too quickly, “You’re right,” you coughed awkwardly, “Today will be good.”

Something clicked, you could see it in his eyes that something had shifted.

“Do you want to come on a drive with me tonight, after everyone’s in bed. I have a view I want to show you.”

“Isn’t that not allowed?”

“I’m head counselor, Y/N. Plus, I’m Spiderman. Who’s gonna fire me?”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, but we’re back before midnight.”

For such a techy guy, Peter’s car was more run down than you expected, “What? She’s a passion project,” He said, touching the dash as if he believed the car was actually a person.

Peter was right, you had a great day. The kids loved you and you even had one of Ned’s famous s' mores. You had a feeling the night might even get a little better. The way Peter was looking at you was how you’d always wanted to be looked at by someone.

The car turned on onto a dirt road and it seemed you were on it for ten minutes before suddenly a valley opened up before you. Peter parked the car so the trunk was facing an amazing view. You got out of the rusty truck with your flashlight shining for extra light. You really didn’t need it because the moon was full and the stars were shining so bright.

They illuminated the valley and the beautiful mountain range in front of you, “Wow,” your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and Peter looked at you as if you were the cutest thing in the world.

“Just wait,” Peter opened up the back of the pick-up trunk and there laid a bunch of blankets and pillows. He kicked off his shoes, climbing in and setting the lantern down. He patted the spot beside him, “You can see the stars better if you lay down.”

You would’ve thought this idea was the most romantic thing in the world if you didn’t get so terrified at that moment. This was like … a date. At least, to her, these weren’t things normal friends did. Not when they held your waist and looked at you like that.

You played with your fingernails, “Uhm..” Your voice trailed off.

Peter had already laid down, expecting you to join him. He sat up on his elbows, “Y/N?”

You could do this.

You climbed up into the truck, crawling beside him but leaving a few feet in between you. You let the small lantern keep you separated, “D-Did you only bring me here because of what happened earlier, Peter?”

You looked up at the stars and it was breathtaking.

“No,” Peter laughed nervously. “I just … It just made me realize something.”

“Realize what?”

You turned your head and realized he was already looking at you, “That I wanted to get to know you. You were still nice to those people even after they were so rude to you. It made me …” His voice trailed off and his eyes shut as if he didn’t want to admit what was next, “It made me want to protect you.”

Was this it? The magic you always wanted.

“You don’t … y-you, don’t have to protect me, Peter.”

He laid his hand out and you surprise yourself when you pressed your hands to his, “But I want to,” He said.

“I don’t know how to do things like this,” You admitted.

“It’s okay, I can show you,” Peter said quickly, “Not that I’m super experienced either. But, as you can see, I’m pretty good at choosing romantic locations.”

You blushed and he interlaced your fingers.

You laid there for a while, pointing out constellations and making jokes about the new ones you made up.

“There, I found it!” Peter pointed up but there were so many stars that you couldn’t tell which one he was looking at.

“What is it?”

“It’s you, can’t you see it?” You shook your head, leaning closer to him so you could try to see from his perspective. As you moved closer, Peter turned his head towards you, “Take my word for it, it’s as beautiful as you look right now.”

You looked at him too and you stared until Peter leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. Magic. This was magic. You weren’t sure how to move your lips but you just pressed yourself further into him.

As you pulled away to catch your breath, you smiled, “Was that good?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah,” and he pressed his lips against yours again, his hand on your waist, “I’ve wanted to do that since last summer.”

You pulled away, “You’ve liked me for that long?”

He tried to kiss you again, pulling your body into his, “Of course, you’re so beautiful … and innocent.” And naive, you thought. You didn’t want him to think of you as innocent. You didn’t want that to be the reason he liked you.

You pressed a hand to his chest, trying to create distance, “Peter, maybe we should go back now. What if someone notices we’re gone?” He held you tighter and your heart raced, “Peter, I-I think we’re moving too fast.”

“This is what people who like each other do, Y/N?” He buried his head into your neck and began to kiss the skin there, “You don’t like me?” His breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine.

“P-Please, please, Peter,” You begged, struggling against him. He soon was on top of you and, as you tried to escape his grasps, he pinned your arms above your head. You screamed for help and Peter only frowned.

“No one’s gonna hear you,” He sounded annoyed. Who was this boy above you? Was he always a wolf in sheep’s skin? All these years?

“Peter, you saved me today,” You tried to reason with him, “Don’t do this.”

He held your legs down as he ripped off your shorts with ease, “White panties? I should’ve known,” This was what he wanted. To steal your innocence and to hold that title forever. He spread your legs with his own.

His eyes hovered above your own, his eyes staring right into, “What do you think people will believe? This story or that an innocent little girl like you wanted to lose her virginity with the boy she’s always had a crush on. Who do you think they’ll believe, you or me?”

You cried out but he shushed you by forcing his lips on you. You bit his lip and he pulled away, fuming and his grip on your wrist tightened, “We’re gonna have fun these three weeks,” He pulled off your panties next, stuffing them into your mouth to muffle your screams, “I’ll be gentle if you stop struggling, Y/N. I know it’s your first time.”

He positioned himself between your legs, pulling down his own shorts before feeling your sex with his fingers. He tested your reaction, watched you flinch as he stimulated that foreign part of your body, “I bet you haven’t even masturbated,” Peter growled, “Jesus.” He could probably finish just with the idea of you being so tight.

He positioned himself at your entrance and you felt just how hard he was. You closed your eyes tight but they shot open as he slowly entered you. You struggled but that only made it worse. You were still, the pain ripping through your lower region. Tears were spilling out of your eyes.

He didn’t need to hold you down anymore, his body was pressed against yours now and you felt too helpless to fight it anymore, “You’re gonna be mine, Y/N,” Peter whispered in your ear, tasting your tears with his tongue, “Only mine.”

As he rubbed your sensitive area and moved in and out, you hated that you were getting used to it. You hated that it was starting to feel pleasure. Peter noticed that you were getting wet and that only made him start to thrust his hips faster.

Something began building in your core and you thought you might explode. Your body convulses and your breathing becomes even more rapid. You tightened around Peter’s member, milking his climax out of him as you did the same but against your will. Peter slammed his hand down beside your head, groaning loudly as he finished inside of you.

You were his for the rest of camp and you were not to tell anyone what happened.

“This is gonna be such a good summer, Y/N.”

Feel free to request some drabbles! If you want more dark peter than check out my masterlist!

#peter parker x y/n #peter Parker au #dark Peter #dark!peter #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #fanfiction #dark fic #dark marvel #marvel smut #marvel #mcu smut #mcu #mcu fanfiction #harryspetrequests #camp au

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spider-pxrkers · 4 years

Text

you’re worth more || popular!peter parker x female reader

summary: you and peter used to be best friends before he re-brandished himself into someone more popular and forgot about you. a few years later, he comes to you with an unusual favour.

a/n: this was an entry for @quackeroos writing challenge under the “fake dating” prompt. if you’d like, go check it out:)

warnings: fake dating trope, angst, fluff, swearing, peter needing a hug:3

masterlist || add yourself to my taglist!

i do not own any gifs used. all credits go to the original creator

“I don’t get it, what is it you want from me?”

The moment you tried you recalling the last conversation you had with the boy before you, you felt yourself get flung back into a memory in middle school, where a younger you and a rather scrawny, smaller boy sat huddled next to each other within the crook of his bunk bed, under a hurdle of blankets with a bowl of chips between the two of you. You both had your gazes fixed onto the bright screen of the laptop before you. Some silly science film Peter always talked about played all because he’d won the coin flip deciding who’d pick the movie that night. That night was the last time you remembered hanging out with him, the last night you and Peter Parker were actually friends.

“I want you,” as he spoke up from opposite you, snapping you back to reality, your eyes finding him leaning in much closer than he was a few moments ago. “To be my girlfriend for a couple months.” His tone was nonchalant as he spoke, his voiced laced with relaxed confidence, as if he knew he was going to leave the conversation getting what he wanted. “Or pretend to, at least.”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy before you. The Peter in front of you was definitely not the same boy you knew years ago. His arms lay on the cafeteria table in front of you, his fingers resting intertwined with one another has his chest rested slightly above, leaning in as if he was telling you some forbidden secret. His hair was lightly gelled and his eyes were the same brown shade, yet with something unfamiliar resting within them.

Peter Parker had grown from the shy nerd he used to be, no longer dawning T-shirts with silly puns on them but instead draped in leather and fitted shirts. He was pushed around constantly in middle school, picked on for every little thing he’d do before he decided to change it all and change who he was. He was mocked, pushed around and more or less tortured by the very people he now calls his friends.

It was the summer after ninth grade when he returned to school. He was taller, toned and more attractive than ever with a completely new wardrobe and contacts instead of his usual thick, round glasses. He abandoned you and Ned Leeds, moving on to a completely new clique. A few years went by and now, he’s one of the most popular kids in school. So, why did he want you to be his girlfriend?

You leaned back a little bit, leaving the once close proximity of his face to yours. “You want me to be your girlfriend?” You let out a laugh laced with satire. “And what? Lean on your arm for a couple weeks until you find yourself another girl to fuck?”

You expected him to be offended but all your words did was trigger a smirk hidden behind a smile. “It won’t be like that. The guys,” you glanced behind him at the table he was at before he had come up to talk to you, full of jocks who tried their best to look like they weren’t looking at your conversation unfold. You rolled your eyes at them before focusing your attention back to Peter. “Made a bet with me. They want to see how long it’ll take for me to, you know..” He spoke calmly, looking at you expectedly, as if you were supposed to catch on.

Unfortunately, you did.

You tilted your head at him, folding your arms almost defensively as you furrowed your eyebrows. “Know what, Parker?”

“Come on, Y/N. They want to see how long I could a keep a girl like you for.”

Your raised an eyebrow, “A girl like me?”

His smile disappeared as he sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

Silence lingered over the two of you and Peter leaned back.

This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

It was no surprise you weren’t as known in the school as most others. Truth was, most of the kids in Midtown annoyed you. You preferred staying under the radar, having a few close friends rather than a ship full of them.

You stared at him, hardly recognizing the boy who once belonged to your friend group. After a few more moments, you gave in to the silence. “You expect me to go along with this?”

“I didn’t have to tell you about the bet alright?” He said to you. “But I found it, in the goodness of my heart,” he placed a hand over the left side of his chest, earning an amused look from you. “To tell you instead of screwing you over. I thought maybe we could work out a deal.”

You nodded slowly, catching on. “What do you get out of this?”

His eyes looked up to meet yours, a ghost of a smile making its way back onto his face as he shrugged. “Five-hundred a month.”

Your jaw dropped, “Five hundred?” All he did was nod. Your eyes shot back to the jocks table as your eyes landed on the “leader”, Martin. You studied him as you recalled your friends tell you his dad was some owner of a big oil company. You figured he was the type of guy who’d push his money wherever he wanted, but never would you have thought him to be this low. But why on earth were you worth five hundred a month? “Why would a guy like you need that much cash, Parker?” You always thought he was as well off as the other guys, he was popular and brandished himself such anyway.

His eyes faltered for a bit at your question, his eye twitching as he looked you over. It was as if a mask slipped off his face for a split second, revealing a look of doubt before it withered and the mask came crawling back on. “I need to get a couple things done.” he said simply.

“Uh-huh,” you decide not to push it. “And what do I get out of all of this?”

His eyes glistened with mirth. “Twenty percent?”

“Thirty.” You shot back.

“Twenty.” He leaned back onto the table, eyes challenging you. But you wouldn’t back down. If you were going to take part in this stupid act, might as well get something out of it.

“Twenty-five.”

The air grew tense as you stared down into his eyes which were locked directly onto yours. You swore you saw the corner of his mouth tug upwards as he spoke, “No one can know you know about this Y/N.”

All you did was smile as you reached out to grab the apple in front of you before taking a bite. “Know about what?”

“This is, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

You and MJ were sat in the bedroom of your apartment afterschool, you at your desk chair while she lay on her back on your bed, her hands folded behind her head accompanied by a blatant look of judgment etched onto her face. You told her about your and Peter’s arrangement, despite him telling you not to, the moment after it happened; an arrangement which she heavily did not approve of. She never liked the popular crowd in school, she was convinced they were all spoilt and shallow.

Some of them were.

“Come on MJ,” you’d been trying to make her see your point of view the entire day. But if there’s one thing your best friend was, it was stubborn. “The money isn’t a lot yeah but you know I need to start saving for college and-”

MJ shot up from her position, a humorless laugh escaping her. “Oh please,” her laughter continued, even louder confusing you as you stared at her.

You fought the smile appearing as your watched your friend’s outbreak, despite your puzzlement. “Why are you laughing?”

She wiped a tear from eye as her laughter resided, standing up to tower over your position on the chair, her grin still wide. “Don’t pretend you’re in this for the money.”

“What do you mean-”

“You’re doing this because by the end of it, you’re hoping you’ll fish out the ‘real’ Peter Parker from somewhere.” You titled your head at her, trying to grasp the point she was trying to make. She leaned in closer to you, her face inches from yours as she spoke lowly, “You know, the guy you had the biggest crush on in eight grade?”

You scoffed at her expression, “I did not-“you paused mid-sentence as you stared at MJ’s expected look on her face. “Alright, maybe.”

Her grin widened even more, “Ha! I knew it!” She pumped her fists in the air while you shook your head as she did a mini celebration dance.

“But that’s not why I agreed to this.” You stated.

“Sure it isn’t.” She looked over at you, her chuckles seizing as she gave you a look of sympathy. “You know if you do this, you can’t expect anything from him after?” You furrowed your eyebrows at her. “He doesn’t feel the same about you Y/N, the two of you haven’t spoken since middle school. And he’s not that same kid anymore. ” MJ walked over to you and crouched in front of your sitting frame. “You can’t change him back into that kid. This is only going to end with you getting hurt.”

You slowly shook as you looked at her. She was right. Peter wasn’t the same kid he was years ago. He usually sat in large groups with the jocks at the back of every class, laughing at their lame jokes and taking part in their stupid ideas of fun. He looked different, dressed different, talked different, and as you thought over your arrangement, a quick flash of doubt entered your head.

But when your eyes peered behind MJ at the picture of you and Peter in ninth grade on your bedside table, posing with Ned Leeds in front your group’s first place science project with peace signs and wide smiles, you figured the nerdy kid you’d been in love with since you were thirteen was still in there, somewhere.

You were free during fourth period, and you chose to spend that time alone in the gymnasium. You didn’t know the other kids you were free with, and preferred the time alone anyway. On most days you’d sit on the bleachers and catch up on homework or a late project. Today however, you had your headphones plugged in, a song by your favorite artist playing. You sat with your eyes closed, content, for a few moments before being interrupted by feeling someone place their hand on top of yours. Your eyes shot open as you drew your hand back quickly, looking to your left to see Peter Parker sitting. An expression you couldn’t recognize rested on his face as you saw his hand next to yours. “What were you just doing?”

“Holding your hand?” he said expectedly. “You know, the thing people who are ‘in love’ do.” He positioned his body to instead straddle the bleacher seat, his front facing your side, separated by your book bag.

You scoffed, removing your eyes from his gaze, instead looking directly ahead of you at the empty gymnasium. “We are not in love.”

“Of course we aren’t,” he said. You glanced over at him, a bit of hurt panging in your chest before pushing it away. “But if we’re going to be telling everyone we’re dating, we might as well give them something to believe.” He spoke with a mischievous tone. You looked over at him. He was in his usual brown jacket, a smirk prominent on his face.

“Something like what, Parker?” you challenged.

He chuckled at you as he leaned in closer to you, his breath warm. “How about I show you?”

You laughed as you shifted to your side, trying to put a little distance between you and the boy next to you. “Alright, we need some rules if we’re going to do this.”

His lips turned into a pout, obviously taken aback by your pulling away, but he wasn’t going to show you that. He straightened his posture, clearing his throat. “What kind of rules?”

“Rules that,” you began. “Will entail boundaries, what we can do, what we can’t do.” This is my first experience with a relationship, so we-”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up,” he let out, leaning back and holding his hand out in front of him. “You’ve never dated anyone before?”

You caught his eyes, feeling as if he was judging you. You felt a pinch of insecurity as he looked at you but ignored it. “Yeah, so?”

His eyes softened as his smirk turned into a light smile, it almost seemed genuine to you. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “Just didn’t think Y/N L/N never got around.”

“Oh right,” you grinned. “Just because I don’t throw myself at every girl with two eyes and a round-”

He laughed. “Alright, alright. I get your point, I’m not judging.”

The two of you sat together during your free period, creating a list of rules for your ‘relationship’. After the two of you were done, you sat back satisfied as you looked over the list you wrote. The first rule was at the top of the page, written by Peter:

No telling anyone the relationship isn’t real.

You chose not to admit to Peter that MJ already knew, it wasn’t like she’d tell anyone anyway.

After his rule you wrote,

No kissing in private or in public.

“That one’s stupid.” He’d said when you wrote it. “How are we supposed to sell a relationship if I can’t kiss you?”

“You’ll find other ways.” Was all you said, earning a smirk from him.

You came up with the third rule as well,

At least one movie night every week, with Y/N’s choice of movie.

Peter protested at the last part, but you wouldn’t budge. If there was anything that could maybe help Peter get back to his regular self, it was a binge of the silly sci-fi movies he loved.

The last rule was mutually chosen between the two of you and in his writing was scribbled,

After the relationship has ended and both Peter and Y/N are paid, the two would never bring up the relationship again.

Peter didn’t really care about the rule, all this relationship was to him was a way to earn money. You agreed to it too; you hoped to get the old Peter you knew back, not the one who threw himself at every girl he saw and picked on any kid smaller than him. If it couldn’t happen by the end of a few months, you didn’t want to be involved with him.

You neatly folded the paper and tucked it into your bag before you and Peter shook hands in agreement to this new relationship.

This was going to be fun.

It’d been three weeks since you began on your relationship. You did what regular couples did, went on dates (making sure to post a lot of pictures online for everyone to see) and spending most of your school days connected at the hip. You got to know the new Peter a lot more, something you can’t say was easy. Most of the times you hung out were when he was with his friends. That meant seeing him laugh at obnoxious demeaning jokes, and making some of them himself. They’d make fun of other students and you’d give him a pointed to look if he ever went too far, earning the vaguest shimmer of guilt before his regular smirk would settle back onto his face, and he’d delve more into the joke, earnings loud guffaws and bumps from his friends. Whenever they would make a joke about Ned, you’d shake your head and leave; that was a line you didn’t want to see Peter cross.

The next few weeks also consisted of you and Peter getting used to having each other in the other’s lives; to really sell the two of you ‘dating’, the two of you spent a lot more time together. In the beginning, Peter asked you to sit with him in classes the two of you shared. When he first asked you, you were hesitant and honestly reluctant. You were serious about your classes and the jock’s reputation screamed nothing but, ‘Distraction.’

Peter knew you’d be uncomfortable, he knew the moment he saw your face fall when one of his friend’s made some stupid joke about your ‘relationship’, as he pulled you to sit with him in the back row, despite your protests. You were quiet the entire class after that, even removing your hand from the grasp of his. And after the bell rang, you got up and left without saying a word. He wanted to go after you, but was stopped by his friends pulling him back and sending pats on his back and laughter in a deep mocking voices, a congratulations for going along with Martin’s bet. His face was hard, all he felt was guilt as his friends pulled him out of the class and out the doors of Midtown.

As you walked up the stairs of your apartment, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you swiped your lock screen to see a text from Peter.

‘Hey.

I’m sorry about today

It was stupid to make you do that.’

You shook your head, almost laughing at his text, before replying back with one of your own.

‘Didn’t know you were such a sap, Parker.’

You bit your lip nervously as you saw him typing back. You were about to tuck your phone back in when the screen lit up.

‘Ha ha very funny.

I need to talk to you about something, call me when you reach home.’

Your eyebrows narrowed while you read his message before running up the stairs and into your apartment. The moment you fell back onto the bed you dialed Peter’s number, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hey, babe.” The word slid of his tongue so smoothly through the phone, it made you cringe.

“Please, don’t call me that when we’re not in public.” You mumbled as you perched the phone between your ear and shoulder, playing with your fingers.

“Alright, babe.”

You could hear his soft chuckle at your reaction as you cringed out loud once more. “What do you want, Parker?”

He didn’t answer for a bit, a silence lingering between the phone lines. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost gentle. “After you left today,” he began. “The guys asked about you, about us.”

You lent back into your pillows as you listened, “What about us?”

“They well- you know how they are.” Your face tightened as he spoke to you. He was silent for a little longer before sighing, giving in completely. “Martin says he won’t pay unless he has proof we...you know, slept together.”

Your eyes closed as you heard him, anxiety filling you. “What do you mean proof?”

“It doesn’t have to be like a video or anything,” Peter’s voice grew more and more soft, realizing how this must’ve sounded to you, how freaked out you’d be. “You could maybe just come over tonight maybe and-”

“And do what, Parker?” your tone was thick, you hated where this was going.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” He quickly reassured you. “We could just hang out, watch a movie or something. I’ll send him some stupid picture and nothing needs to happen.” You heard his breath hitch. “I promise.”

Silence filled you once again as you grew uncertain. This shouldn’t be weird, you’d had several sleepovers with Peter when you were younger, but you knew this would be different, even if nothing happened between the two of you.

The last few weeks played tricks with your mind. You were convinced you didn’t need to like Peter to keep up your fake relationship, but something inside you thought otherwise. As you hung out more and more, the pair of you grew more comfortable with one another.

You hated to admit MJ was right, but as the days went by, you felt your feelings from four years ago resurface. It was slow at first, it began when hesitant fingers crawling on the other’s turned into tender arms draped across the other’s shoulder. It grew as the two of you spent afternoons watching your favourite movies; you even decided to give his new love for crime movies a try. And after several mornings of grabbing coffee together before school, he eventually learned your order and would have it ready before you’d enter the coffee shop, making you realize this ‘relationship’ was going to get a lot more complicated, especially since you knew he didn’t feel the same. It’d be wrong for you to go to his place, to spend the night there, without him knowing how you felt. But you doubted he cared, he was Peter Parker for God’s sake, he could have any girl in New York with a snap of his fingers, why would he want you? Some girl from his past who he suddenly decided to talk to for five hundred bucks?

After a long time of saying nothing you took a deep breath. It would be wrong of you, but it wasn’t like anything between the two of you would happen anyway.

“I’ll be there by eight.”

Within the hours of four to eight, you began to get ready. After your shower, you called MJ -much to her distaste- to confer about the outfit you were going to wear which ended up turning into a two hour long rant session with your best friend about whatever. After, you pulled on your jeans and a crop top, before pulling it off and replacing it with a light blouse instead. You packed a separate bag with pyjamas and whatever else you needed. When you were ready, you headed out the door and left for the address Peter sent you.

You’d seen his apartment before. It was located close to where you stayed, a smaller apartment that most. As you climbed up the stairs and knocked on his door, you felt yourself grow excessively more nervous. You adjusted the bag’s strap on your shoulder before looking up to see Peter open the door.

His hair wasn’t gelled like it usually is, instead in light wet curls, you assumed he just stepped out of a shower. A plain white tee-shirt clung to him above worn blue jeans.

“You’re early.” Was all he said with a smirk as he stepped back to let you in.

Why did he always have to smirk?

You walked into the apartment and down a short corridor before entering the living room. You recognized a few decorations lying around, the frames on the walls and picture of his uncle Ben. It’d been so long since you’d been in the Parker residence, it almost felt the same from all those years ago. But as you looked around, you noticed no science fair trophies or class awards on the end table like there used to be. Instead, laid simple miscellaneous decorations. Gold medals no longer decorated the walls, Peter must have made his aunt remove all of it when he got to high school.

“So, what movie did you get?” Peter’s voice sounded behind you pulling you from your thoughts and as you turned around, you saw him leaning against the kitchen wall, his hands fidgeting.

He probably just wanted to get this night over with.

You bit your lip as you reached into your bag, pulling out a DVD disk. Here goes nothing. “I brought Star Wars,” you said quietly as you watched his face shoot up to meet yours. It was a movie he would make you watch all the time in middle school and judging by his reaction, he seemed to remember.

You expected him to get mad, his face was hard, expressionless. “Did you bring anything else?” he asked, pushing himself off the wall and making his way over to you.

“No,” you replied, still grasping the cover. He now stood directly in front of you, reaching his hand out to take the cover from your hands as he stared at it.

“I haven’t seen this in years.” You looked up to see Peter with a soft smile on his face as he flipped over the cover, viewing the back. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours as a smile found your face.

“Didn’t think you’d still like it.” You mumbled as you realized how close the both of you actually were. There was something in eyes you couldn’t point out, they were softer, almost more vulnerable than any thing you’d seen of him in school. It was as if all his walls were down.

The hand of his that wasn’t holding the case lightly made its way to your arm, grazing it. Your faces were inches apart. His gaze was below your eyes, at your lips as he stepped even closer. “You don’t know what I like.” He whispered.

The two of you leaned in close to each other, forgetting the rules you made, almost in contact until the sound of a door clicking made you jump away from him, landing on the couch.

“Peter! I left some leftovers on the stove,” the sound of May calling out while she entered the room rang through the apartment, as you and Peter straightened yourselves and you stood up. “Just put it on medium in the microwave for a bit and it should get-“she turned around to see her nephew standing by the couch and you next to him, playing with your fingers. “- done.”

There was an awkward silence among the three of you as May stared at the two of you, tilting her head to the side as she tried to grasp what was going on. “May,” Peter spoke up, breaking the silence. “You remember Y/N, right?” He snaked an arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to his side.

You gulped as she kept staring at you. “Hey Ma- Mrs. Parker.” You gulped, waving at her.

It was quiet for a bit longer as her eyes darted between the both of you, a warm expression finding her face. “Y/N, I haven’t seen you since,” she said softly, a smile appearing as she shook her head slowly. “I can’t remember.”

You felt almost remorseful as you watched May’s expression shift. She was heartbroken when you and Peter fell out, you remember Ned telling you countless times that she’d scold Peter for letting go of you.

“Yeah, we got in touch recently and,” Peter said he went to grab your hand pulling it up. “This happened.” He lied smoothly as you smiled at her.

You swore you saw her smile falter a bit, “Oh.” Was all she said as she put her keys in her purse and looked at her nephew before her gaze landed back on you again. “Well, I’d love to catch up, Y/N, but I have to get to work.”

“It’s not a problem Mrs. Parker.” You said as she walked to open the front door.

“Dear, you can still call me May.” She laughed before stepping out. “Have fun you two.”

After she shut the front door behind her, you moved your hand out of Peter’s grasp, stepping back from him. “So,” you said to him while he avoided your eyes, making his way to the kitchen. “Does your aunt not like when you bring girls here, Parker?”

He laughed quietly, pulling out a few ingredients out of cabinets. “I don’t really have girls over here.”

An amused smile found your face as you moved to stand opposite the counter in front of him, completely forgetting about the interaction before May entered. “Oh really?”

He looked up to you grinning, before pulling a cook book out of a drawer. “Oh really. Only if they’re very special.” He winked at you before flipping through the pages, making your cheeks stain red.

“What are you doing?” you asked him, flustered at his actions, trying to change the subject.

“No offense to May’s pot pie but,” he began, eyes lighting up as he found the page he was looking for. “I’m really craving a good batch of cookies right now.”

You snickered at his childishness before moving to stand by him. “I’ll do it.”

He snorted without missing a beat, “Sure you will.”

You narrowed your eyebrows, smacking his arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it’s supposed to mean is,” he tilted his head to look at you. “The last time you tried baking, we almost burnt your kitchen down.”

“That,” you defended. “Was five years ago. I’ve grown since then.”

So the two of you got to work. As you created cookie batter, Peter played some music on his phone. He named himself ‘DJ’ for the night since anytime he tried helping you bake, you’d swat his hand away, muttering an ‘I got this.’

He watched you work, your eyes darting between the pages of the recipe to the ingredients around you. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your lips caught between your teeth as you worked and he’d laugh whenever you’d softly swaying to the music he played.

Why was he so entranced by you? Why did he feel like kissing you when you showed him a movie he’d last seen when he was fourteen? For every minute he spent with you he found himself with memories of things the two of you did when you were younger, when he hadn’t transform into a whole new person.

He could let his walls down around you, you knew the real him. A few weeks ago, you were just some girl he was holding onto for some money, it wasn’t supposed to go beyond that.

But now, he wanted nothing more than that.

“This tastes like ass.” You spit out the cookie onto your plate, gagging at it. You both sat opposite each other at the small dining table, eating the disaster of the desert you tried to make.

Peter chuckled as he took another bite. “Didn’t know you’d know what that tasted like, Y/N.” he teased.

You rolled your eyes at him before staring at him in disbelief as he bit into the cookie again. “You don’t have to pretend to like it Parker, I know it’s terrible. I failed as a chef.” You said, dramatically tossing the cookie back onto your plate and slumping back into your chair in defeat.

“No really,” he said before taking one last bite and dusting his hands out before forcing himself to reaching for another cookie. “It’s good.” He really didn’t like it; it was goopy and burnt, but he didn’t want you feeling worse.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft music he played.

“Why don’t you call me Peter anymore?”

You looked up at him, not expecting the question. “What do you mean?”

He placed the cookie back onto the plate before leaning in front, his arms resting on the table, his eyes looking directly into yours. “You call me Parker, all the time. It used to be Peter, I just wanted to know why.”

You contemplated your words as he looked at you. “I guess,” you spoke slowly. “I started hating you, after eight grade?” He nodded slowly at your words. The two of you never spoke about your falling out after it happened, the two of you never talked at all. “Not anymore of course, I just didn’t feel like calling you by your name. You weren’t exactly my favorite person after that.” You tried laughing a bit to diffuse the tension, but Peter didn’t seem that taken aback. “I mean, were best friends, Parker. And then one day you decided to throw that away without even telling me for, I don’t know, rep?”

A few more moments passed. You looked down at your lap. Should you have said that?

“You can still be happy, Peter.” You whispered, brushing a tear from his cheek. “You don’t need to sink to their level.”

“It wasn’t rep.” He said after a while. You thought he’d be angry, but his tone was soft and quiet, almost broken. “You know what it was like for me, Y/N.” he began. “They’d push me around every day. I’d come home with bruises on my face and I’d have to lie and tell May it was because I fell during gym. I couldn’t leave class a single day without being insulted or getting threatened. And then Ben died,” You looked at him when his voice cracked and you saw his hand shaking while he took a deep breath. “And I just couldn’t take it anymore, Y/N. I couldn’t.” You reached your hand out to his but he pulled his chair back and got up.

“I know I pushed you away, I know I did with Ned too. But, I- I hated my life. I hated waking up, I h-hated living.” You got up and went after him, standing opposite his shaking figure, gently lacing your hand with his, rubbing circles into his knuckles. “But after I did what I did, after I changed, they treated me like a god Y/N, I was finally happy for the first time in so,” You watched his face morph into a broken expression as his watering eyes stared into yours. “So long.”

“You didn’t know what it was like, Y/N.” he said, his hand moving up to clasp around yours on his face as he caught his breath. “I can’t go back to that.”

You found yourself leaning in front, until your forehead was pressed against his. “You don’t have to. But you don’t need to throw away who you really are either.” You realized you may never get the old Peter back, but you could sure as hell help this one.

Peter found himself leaning into your embrace for the second time that evening. His hand moved out of yours an instead encircled you waist, pulling you closer as his lips grazed over yours.

“What about the rules?” you whispered, your hand making its way into his hair.

“Fuck the rules.” He shook his head muttered before pressing his lips against yours. The two you stood pressed against each other for a few moments as his lips molded into yours. He tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss. You felt yourself slowly walking backwards until your back was pressed against the wall behind you. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair as his hands pulled you flush against him. Years of anger, confusion and longing to go back to what once was poured out of the two of you as you pulled him closer, breaths mixing into a fusion of adoration before the loud ringing of someone's phone sounded.

“You better get that.” You mumbled into his mouth. He simply groaned and shook his head against yours, his lips moving to the corner of your mouth. “It could be Martin.” You said. “Peter.”

He pulled away, his eyes looking deep into yours before he pecked your nose and moved back, untangling himself from you and grabbing his phone, sliding to answer the call. “What do you want, Martin?” he spoke impatiently, eyeing you still against the wall.

“Hey man,” Martin spoke from the phone. “Just thought I’d call to see if everything was,” his voice lowered, “going according to plan? You still do want that cash don’t you?”

Peter looked up at your tangled hair and lightly swollen lips. Your eyebrows furrowed at him as you stepped forward.

You were worth so much more than five hundred bucks.

“Screw the money, Martin.” He said.

“What?” Martin replied, taken aback. “Parker, what’s going on without you?”

“I don’t need your money, I don’t need you.” Peter bit back, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Watch it Parker-” Peter hung up the phone before Martin could finish, tossing it onto the table before sighing.

“What happened?” You asked him, approaching him and grabbing his hand.

Peter smiled at you before pulling you against him, nuzzling his face into your neck, pulling you into an embrace. “I don’t want to fake a relationship with you anymore.” He whispered before lifting his face up and gazing into your eyes.

You gave him a bemused look.

He chuckled at you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I want to do it for real.” You looked up at him as you heard his voice change. It wasn’t as deep, instead lighter, and more genuine. You grin was wide as he dipped his head back down, connecting his mouth back to yours.

“You know I could’ve done with that five hundred dollars.” You pulled back, grinning at him.

“Shut up.” Was all he said before kissing you again, both your smiles broad.

Things changed a lot during the next week. Even though Martin was pissed at Peter, the rest of the guys didn’t seem to care that much. He still hung out with his friends, and after a while of actually getting to know them, they didn’t seem all that intolerable.

Most of them.

You saw Peter softening up sometimes, he no longer dragged you to the back of classes or spent every minute of the day with the guys. However, there was still a line between the old Peter and new one.

Sometimes the line was less obvious, like when you introduced Peter to MJ. The two were hesitant to talk to each other at first, not knowing how to act or what to say, but after Peter caught a glimpse of the book MJ had with her during lunch, the two of them dove into a heated debate, frustrating MJ and amusing Peter.

You grinned as the two of them bickered, laughing at MJ. She’d probably be much closer to the Peter you knew when you were younger, but you learned to love the Peter you had right now.

“Peter?” he hummed in response for you to go on as you played with his hair. “I invited someone over today, to hang out with us. That okay?”

It was one evening when you decided to test just how much the line could falter.

You and Peter hung out in your apartment, his head resting on your lap as the two of you sat on your couch, watching TV. You saw your phone buzz before deciding to talk to Peter.

“Don’t know,” he replied before grinning at you. “Is she cute?”

You rolled your eyes at him, silently scolding him as the doorbell rang. You lightly pushed him off of you as you went to answer it, him standing up behind you and following you. “It’s not a she, actually.” You grasped the front door handle, turning to face him.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he crossed his arms behind you. “Who is it then?”

You smiled at him before, pulling open the front door. Behind it, Ned stood, playing with his hands. “Hey Peter.” He said quietly, slowly waving at him.

Peter looked between you and Ned, stepping in front of you to be directly in front of the boy. Your heart sunk as Ned flinched at the movement, probably used to being hurt by people like him.

Peter’s face softened as he held his hand out to the boy, smiling instead. Ned’s mouth turned into a broad grin before he excitedly put his hand in, the two delving into their old handshake before Peter pulled him into a hug, both of them laughing. “I missed you buddy.” Peter said before pulling away and pulling you in, Ned’s hands trapping the two of you into a group hug.

Things weren’t going to be the same, but right then and there, you knew you could be okay.

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nicolewoo · 3 years

Text

Yo, Jamie!!! It’s almost done.

Pairing: King Roman Reigns X Female reader

Warnings: None

My average day was a controlled chaos. Everyone wanted an audience with the king, and I had to know what issues were pressing, which nobles I could and couldn’t talk to, and a million other details. All of these things weighed on me daily. Now, with my mother and the church pressing me to take a bride, I’d reached a breaking point.

After I had yelled at a servant for no reason, Charles the Lord of Sussex and my most trusted advisor and friend, suggested we take a few hours to go riding this morning. He’d been right, too. A few hours away from the castle and the nobles was exactly what I needed.

We’d tried to slip out before the sun rose so we could avoid anyone, but as we prepared to leave the grounds, the Captain of the Guard saw us. Christopher was a tall lanky man with almost no hair anymore and an unfortunate habit of rubbing his face when he was nervous. Now, as he insisted that the king should not ride un-escorted, his hand brushed over his face repeatedly.

“Your highness, we have hundreds of nobles arriving this week. I’m afraid there will be more thieves in the forest. I’ve got plenty of guards on the road, but if you’ll be avoiding the road,” he eyed me suspiciously, knowing I never stayed on the road, “I insist you take a couple of guards.”

I begrudgingly agreed but told the guards to stay far back from us unless we encountered other people.

Charles and I enjoyed a very peaceful ride, stopping once for a cleansing swim in a river and to eat some bread and cheese Charles packed. “My friend, you’ve done me a great service today.” I said as I lounged shirtless on a patch of grass soaking in the sun.

Charles cocked his head a bit as if surprised to hear a compliment. “It’s my pleasure, sire. You needed a break.”

“I guess we should head back.” I admitted as I stood and finished getting dressed. Charles finished a minute before me and packed up the rest of the food. Once mounted on my horse, I hesitated to leave. “I wish I could do this every day, like we did when we were kids.”

Charles smiled at me. “You were never destined to a life of leisure, Your Highness. God chose you to be a wise and fair king who is building a greater country and a greater world.” He whistled to the guards I’d forgotten were even with us, and they mounted their horses to follow us. “Besides, you’d be miserable if you lived a quiet, boring life.” We both laughed.

Finding a slow trot, Charles and I continued talking, mostly about Charles’s sexual conquests. As a young, unmarried titled man, he had his choice of lovers in the court, and none of them ever kept his attention for more than a few months. Knowing I’d be married off one day in a probable political move, I’d chosen to be much less adventurous. I’d enjoyed the affections of a couple of women, but I never knew if it was because they liked me or the idea of becoming a queen. Now that I was king, I was too busy, too stressed, too careful. I noticed the ladies at court. There were a couple of fetching noble women, but none that sparked anything even close to passion.

I knew it was time to marry. I wanted to get married, but for love. Instead, women from around the world were invading my castle, and I was to meet every single one of them in a week-long quest to find a wife. Not only would my attendance be necessary at every meal and every social occasion, I was to meet each potential candidate in person and in private (with a chaperone), a task I was dreading. Meeting after meeting of women throwing themselves at my feet trying to become the next queen.

“Are you ok, highness?” Charles’s voice broke me out of my worry.

“Just thinking about this week.” I admitted to him.

Charles thought for a moment before talking. “I envy you. You’ll have your choice of women. If I were you, I’d bed whichever ones I wanted. You could have a wife and mistress by the end of the week.”

Of course, he was excited about the prospect of more women at court. “My friend, I believe you’re going to bed many of them this week.” I chuckled.

Charles laughed with me, “Not until Your Royal Highness has ruled them out as your future queen.”

“Well then, I’ve finally found the worth of being a king. I don’t have to accept your discarded women.” I stopped my horse at a river so both of us could drink. Charles pulled up besides us and jumped off his horse too.

Charles’s laugh rang out over the forest. “Would that be so bad?”

“Your prowess is well known, and I’ve seen ladies after you’ve spent an evening with them. I’d be afraid I’d disappoint.” I said.

Charles smiled shyly. “Sire, you know whomever you choose must be pure.”

I laughed now, “Are there any pure women anymore?”

“On my oath sire, I’ve tried to ensure there are no virgins in this country. That’s why we are importing new virgins from other countries to meet you.” Charles teased before becoming serious. “I have a great feeling about this week, sire. I honestly think you’ll meet a fetching young bride from some exotic country that needs an alliance with us and you’ll find some measure of joy in your marriage.”

“An alliance?” I looked down in disappointment and patted my mare on the neck reassuringly. “I’m afraid that’s all my marriage will be about.”

“I’m telling you sire,” Charles said as he bent low to fill his water skin, “I believe you will find someone who will give you a cordial marriage.”

“Cordial? I guess love is too much to hope for.” I hopped back on my horse.

Charles mounted his horse too and we began a slow trot through the woods. “That’s what the mistress is for.” I knew he was jesting, but the seriousness of the whole situation fell on me again as we rode.

Why was I forbidden to marry for love? Why was I born to be king? “Let’s speak of other things. Our ride was supposed to distract me.”

Charles was always quick to raise my spirits. “The delegation from the Arabian Peninsula is bringing you a dozen stallions when they arrive. It’s said their horses are the best.”

At my happy expression he continued. “As soon as they arrive, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can find a few free moments to go see them.”

That sounded great. “Thank you. Not just for letting me know when the horses arrive. Thank you for today. I needed this.” Charles gave me a respectful nod as his answer. I inhaled the forest air, trying to etch the memory of it into my mind to carry me through this busy week.

“Care to race, Your Highness?” Charles challenged. I didn’t answer but tapped my horse’s side to gallop full speed. I heard Charle’s call of “Not fair.” As I took the lead. He caught up quickly and we raced for a long while.

Realizing I was only hastening my journey back to the castle and my royal obligations, I slowed us down again and we rode in silence for a few short minutes before we heard the ping of metal hitting metal.

“Let the guards go first” Charles suggested.

Metal on metal usually meant swords, so I agreed. I motioned to the guards, and they rode ahead of us for a minute. As we neared the top of a hill, one of the guards motioned that it was safe. I looked ahead and saw a carriage with a wheel off on the King’s Road. “Let’s go help.” I said to the guards.

Peter, a thin young guard with messy hair and a patchy beard answered. “Your Highness, I can take care of this.” He motioned to the younger guard next to him. “William can protect you on the way to the castle if you’d like.”

In that carriage was surely one of my potential brides coming to the castle to meet with me. Yes, I wanted to escape, but maybe I could sneak a peek. If she was fetching, it could go a long way to easing my fears. If she was unattractive, at least I’d be prepared for my meeting with her. I trotted closer to the guard and took in the whole scene in front of me.

Not only had the wheel fallen off; it was stuck under the now emptied carriage. The ladies in waiting and an elderly man I assumed was the driver were seated on a blanket off to the side while what seemed to be the lady of the carriage tried to lift the vehicle.

She’d managed to get a small log on a rock and was trying to pry the carriage up using her body weight. It wasn’t working, but from where I was standing, I got a full view of a truly amazing bottom swaying with her efforts. I was so amused, I pondered not offering her help just to see how she’d do.

Just as I was about to speak, she defiantly stuck her chin out and looked around my guards locking her eyes on me. “Must I ask for assistance or will it be offered?” She spit the words out like weapons.

She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, despite the dirt all over her and hair falling out of it’s restrains and trailing down her neck. Her dress was beautiful despite the oil and dirt covering it. It was wrecked though.

She dabbed at some sweat on her forehead with a ragged piece of cloth and ended up smearing dirt on her face.

Charles leaned forward a bit, “It will do you well to watch your tone in front of...”

I interrupted, “The Lord of Sussex.” I had stolen Charles’s title, and he gaped after me in confusion. I shot him a look that convinced him to keep quiet.

She seemed more contrite now. “My apologies, My Lord.” She curtsied a bit.

I smiled down at her. “Think nothing of it.” I looked at Charles now. “Mister Brandon, Shall we assist this damsel in distress?”

Charles smiled. “Yes your Lordship.” We dismounted and handed the reigns of our horses to the elderly driver.

We made short work of lifting and replacing the wheel. After a quick survey of the road, the guards found a missing bolt. With that in place, the carriage would be fine.

“Why have I not seen you in court?” I asked as I held the carriage still While Charles and the guards.

She exhaled haughtily “I’m afraid I’m not very welcome at court, nor do I care to go to court.”

I lifted my brow “And why is that my lady?” I tried to suppress a laugh. She was so direct, so plain-spoken, unlike most of the women at court. Court could probably do well to have some women with backbones like her. It would at least make court more interesting.

“I have an unfortunate habit of telling the truth.” I laughed hnow. Seeing that I was genuinely amused, Charles relaxed and laughed too.

“Well now, telling the truth is a virtue, even at court.” I smiled as Charles chuckled under his breath.

“My Lord, I’ve seen many things in court, but virtue isn’t one of them.”

I leveled her with my gaze. “Are you saying The King lacks virtue?”

I caught a brief glimpse of annoyance in her voice. “I said nothing of the kind!”

“Are you saying the courtiers are without virtue?” I asked.

She blanched when she realized that as a Lord, I could be a regular at the palace. “My apologies My Lord. No. I simply meant that matters of piety are not a priority to all who attend the court.”

I glanced over at Charles who was laughing under his breath at her stubbornness.” This is a fun game and one I didn’t want to end just yet.

“Well, gentle lady, would 2 non-virtuous gentlemen of The King’s Court offer their assistance to a lady in distress?” I asked as I gestured to her now repaired carriage.

“I tell you truly, sirs, that many in His Magesty’s Court would not assist, but to serve their own purposes.”

I walked a step closer to her in a show of power, but instead of looking away, she stared me straight in the eye defiantly. “And what, pray tell, do I have to gain from helping you today?”

“My Lord, I didn’t mean any offence to you or your friend.” She nodded to our party. “You have indeed done me a great favor today.”

Was she finally breaking? “And what have I asked in return?”

She smiled now. She was breathtaking when she smiled.

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