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jupiterparker · 5 years

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what will people think? (p.p)

chapter four

summary: your entire life is already planned out by your parents, forced to follow along, you run into a boy at an internship who might change your whole view

word count: 1.5k

warnings: emotional abuse

paring: peter parker x female!reader

series masterlist | chapter five

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“Okay so this is my suit,” Peter said, doing jazz hands as he moved to the side to let you get a closer look at it.

“Oh wow” This costume, sorry suit, was definitely one of Tony’s better ones. Not that it was higher quality, because all of his suits were high quality, but because you could see the careful thought that Tony put into this.

“WOW??? Is that good is that bad, like just wow???” Peter reacted to your statement, bringing you out of you la la land of admiring the suit.

“Peter,” you said gently, “CALM DOWN.”

“You didn’t say wow when you saw my suit” Tony mumbled, reminding you that he was still there as you turned around to scold him.

“I mean I didn’t tell you wow because it wasn’t at the wow level yet. I mean after my help it was there obviously”, you smiled smugly at Tony, resulting in Peter laughing at your sass.

“But Peter’s suit is at that level?” Tony asked, questioning your judgment.

“It’s Spiderman” you stated like that would explain everything, but it obviously.

“So?”

“So Tony, it’s Spiderman, and you asked me to improve the suits so they would be cooler, and Spiderman is already so cool, and I can’t really improve on perfection!”

“I’m, well Iron Man is… lit… with the kids?” Tony yelled but becoming unsure of himself near the end of his choice of words. He put on a mock sad face, causing you to flinch. You were ready for some yelling and guilt shaming, as that’s what your parents did, so you assumed that it was normal.

You were surprised when no yelling or anything happened, and the conversation just moved on naturally. So you just shrugged it off and looked at another section of the suit, not noticing that Tony and Peter had exchanged a look of concern.

But you really didn’t have much to do with Peter’s suit. The only thing that really came to mind was suggesting to add some gold.

“I mean Spider Man has always been just red and blue, why add gold?” Peter asked, unsure about your suggestion.

“Well it’s not like we would be replacing the red or the blue with gold, but instead it would be acting more as an”-you paused to think of the right word-”accent color? Yeah, an accent color?”

“Hmm, okay… but like how would that help with coolness again, or why do I need it?” Peter asked, still unsure and not wanting to change his iconic look that far. It was one thing to change the material, and the sheen to make is more futuristic and metallic, but the color scheme was what really separates him from other superheroes (other than the fact of like Captain America, but whatever).

“You really don’t, but it would give the perception of you and Iron Man being a unified front, like a team,” you said in a sing-song voice, trying to incite Peter a little more.

At the last comment of him and Tony looking like a team, Peter’s face lights up like a child at Christmas. You gave the perfect sales pitch you thought to yourself as you smiled as his glee.

Hearing your phone beep, however, brought you out of the moment of perfectness and bliss. As your phone brought the painful reality check that you should be leaving now if you were to be home in time. Peter and Tony realized this too as you looked back up to them and approached them to say goodbye.

“Hey Y/N, do you have a Snapchat by any chance?” Peter asked, reminding you of his earlier promise to be your friend. Wow, he actually meant it.

To Tony and Peter’s surprise though, you had to shake your head no, explaining that “My mom said that social media like Snapchat, Instagram, and Facebook would be distracting to my studies. Plus the fact that she directly said that I ‘have no friends anyways, so what’s the point of even asking?’” you finished, using your fingers to signal quotations at that last part.

Peter frowned and look concerned, as this was his first real glimpse of how socially isolated and miserable you were with your parents.

“Actually why exactly do you have to go now Y/N? It’s only 5, and don’t your interns usually get off around 7ish?” Peter questioned, looking at Tony for clarification and back up.

Tony thought about it, trying to recollect his reasoning for letting you off at 5 before turning to you, “Well yeah, but you-well your parents specifically asked to leave at 5 on Sundays. I didn’t question it too much since your parents, and your family is pretty well known with you doing a bunch of internships.”

You fidgeted with your hands for a couple of seconds before realizing that Tony was silently prompting you to shed light on the reasoning if you were comfortable of course.

“Oh yeah, sorry”-you shook your head slightly in apology-”My family is very strict about school, as you can tell by now, and so Sunday’s they just like a little extra time to review for school.”

“You mean they want you to have a little extra time to review for school?” Peter clarified, a little skeptical.

“Oh no, they like having time to review what I am learning about so they can quiz me about it. It’s a competition”.

“What happens if you win?” Tony asked, the concern seeping through his voice more and more by the second.

“They leave me alone till Tuesday.”

“And if you lose?”

You shuddered at the thought of losing, tracing the slight bruises on your knuckles from getting hit by the ruler. You knew the hitting wasn’t normal in America, but in your home country, it was just part of getting your children to behave. “I rather not say, but it’s not pleasant, to say the least,” you said, deciding that was enough information to give, and this was a good place to end the conversation, as you were going to be late if you didn’t leave within a couple minutes.

“Okay, I’ve really got to go, but we will we figure out something okay Peter? I can’t exactly text you in case my mom sees, so I’ll see you tomorrow Tony… and Peter?” you asked, wondering if Peter even came in every day like an actual intern since you were pretty sure Peter’s internship was a cover for Spider Man.

“Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow,” Peter said before nodding and reaching forward to give you a hug. When you stepped back to start heading out the elevator, you noticed Tony was holding something, like a box.

“Is that what I think it is? The new StarkPhone?” you asked, instantly forgetting that you were going to be late as you stared at it in amazement.

“Yup, and it’s all yours, and it has biometric features on it for security reasons so we can’t have anyone snooping around on there,” Tony said smiling.

“No, I can’t take this, that’s too much Mr. S-I mean Tony.”

“I insist, think if it as a company phone that you need for your internship. In case I have a question about your work or another intern does” Tony explained with a twinkle in his eye, before he gestured to Peter, “besides I’m like 99.99% sure it has an app on there called Snapchat? I think that’s what it is called” he joked.

“You’re not 100% sure?”

“If I claim I’m 100% sure, the universe is going to make sure that I’m wrong, and Tony Stark is never wrong.”

“Well I can’t thank you enough Tony, and I’ll talk to you later then Peter,” you said gleefully, realizing that this actually made it possible for you to be friends with Peter.

You finally head out the elevator, and as you walk into the busy city, you realize that for once in your life, your parents did something right, which you could have never dreamt of.

Reaching into your purse, you try and find your phone to check the time and see just how late you might be, when instead you bring out your new ‘company phone’ and realize that while today was paradise and was more perfect than any other good internship, that just meant that you had an even bigger lie to keep secret from your parents.

And the last time that they found about a lie you had told -that you had gone to a classmate’s house to work on a project instead of the school library-their reaction made you worried about what would happen if they found about this much bigger lie.

With that new worry in mind, it took some time for you to realize that sometimes wet was on your fingers. You raised them to your face to see that you had clenched your hand so hard in fear, that they were now covered in blood from your nails piercing your palm.

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#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spider man #spider man imagine #spider-man #spider-man imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #wwpt

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ours-is-feral-love · 6 years

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I Heard Your Voice on the Telephone

A/N: And another one. Enjoy! [Spoilers if you’ve not seen the show]

Summary: Alyssa, having returned home after James escaped without her, gets a phone call. [T for language] [Word Count: 1,801]

There is a pen in my hand. I hate pens. They're too permanent. They're liars, really, because nothing in this world is permanent. Trust me.

But here my mum is, pointing to the black ink pen I'm holding and then pointing to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter.

I stare at her blankly, like I have no clue what she wants me to do. It pisses her off when I do this. That makes me want to do it more often, and recently, with all the fucked-up shit that's happened, I've been given plenty of opportunities to act like the moronic git she thinks I am.

"Alyssa," she says in her famous hushed, annoyed tone as she rocks one of the twins. It's nap time, but he doesn't care. He keeps pulling at Mum's earring. "You need to sign it."

Need. What a funny word. What a funny concept. Mum seems to think I need a lot of things I don't. She always has.

I don't need to sign it. I need to eat to survive. I need to sleep.

I need to find him.

"Sign what?" I say, lifting my shoulders in a brief shrug.

She looks as if her head's gonna explode. You'd think she would be more amenable towards me since I got back from being a wanted girl on the run, but we've sort of reverted back to our old ways quicker than I expected.

I think she's trying to forget I was an accessory to murder. To do that, she has to just pretend nothing's changed.

I bet it isn't working.

I tried the same thing right after it happened, and she should take my advice. Pretending doesn't do shit.

She should just accept the fact that I'm a juvenile delinquent now and move on.

Not that I am a juvenile delinquent in the eyes of the law. Or in the eyes of the media. To them, I'm a helpless girl who was cruelly coerced into following a deranged criminal on his quest to destroy the world.

No one believes I went willingly. Mum lies and tells me she doesn't believe me either.

The only person who believes me is Tony, but I don't give a shit what he thinks. I wish it had been him and not that scumbag rapist slash murderer.

"The restraining order, Alyssa," my mum says breathlessly, having lost one of her earrings. "It must be turned in as soon as possible."

I look at the piece of paper and back at Mum. Her other earring is gone.

I won't sign it. I've been saying it for two days.

It's bullshit. What's a restraining order gonna do? I don't even know where he is. And if I did, I would be out there looking for him. And when I found him, I'd join him.

Mum's just scared. This is her way of trying to feel safe. She's surrounding herself with a false air of security. And since I'm seventeen, she gets to choose who is and who isn't allowed within five hundred feet of me, our house, and the twins.

Even if I did sign, how the fuck would he know there was a restraining order against him? He wouldn't, because he's missing. He probably doesn't even know what day it is.

That makes me sad. Really, really sad.

I swallow the golf ball forming in my throat and continue staring at my mum like I have no idea what she's talking about.

She makes a shrill noise and stomps her foot. The baby starts crying.

"You will sign it," she says, walking past me. "You need to."

She takes him upstairs. When I hear the door to the twins' room close, my body instantly reacts. My lips wobble and jerk. My eyes sting with angry, annoyed, miserable tears.

I throw the pen in the sink. As it clatters, banging around, the landline starts ringing. I don't feel like talking to anyone, but the noise will disturb the twins, so I go into the living room and grab the handset. I don't recognise the number, but I live dangerously now.

I click the answer button and bring the phone to my ear. "Hello?" There isn't a response. I strain my ear, listening carefully. "Is anyone there?"

Breathing. I hear it. Soft, almost ragged breaths.

James.

I don't know how I know, but I fucking do.

I whisper his name. "James." It comes out scratchy, and I clear my throat. "James," I say again.

My head is spinning. I look around the room, my heart quickening, punching my ribs, and I find I want to pass out. I move to the plush sofa in front of the telly and collapse, staring up at the white ceiling.

With just his breaths in my head and the twins silent upstairs, I can focus on the rain clinking against the roof.

It's been raining nonstop since I got back.

"Are you alone?"

I could cry. Actually, I am crying. Hot, bubbling tears drip into my hair. I cover my mouth to muffle my wretched-sounding sobs.

Up the stairs, the door to the twins' room opens. I freeze, relaxing only when my mum chooses to go into her bedroom. It's about time for her mid-afternoon nap.

"Yeah," I say, though the sound is disrupted by a hiccup. Again, I clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm alone."

Fuck, I miss him. I miss him more than I realised.

Which is saying something because I missed him really bad before.

"I shouldn't be phoning you," he says. "But I needed to hear your voice."

There's that word again. Need.

This time it makes sense.

"Are you okay?" It's a silly question, but I have to know. I think I understand that there was a part of me that thought he was dead.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me," he says. I will. Until I know he's safe I will worry about him constantly. "How are you? How’s your head?"

He's trying to sound casual, but I hear the feathery tremble in his words.

He's not okay.

More tears escape into my hair. Is salt good for your scalp? I hope so.

"My head’s fine. I'm scared," I tell him. “And I miss you." It's an understatement, but he'll think I'm mad if I tell him that I think I'm dying without him.

He laughs, but the sound is broken. “I miss you too.”

“James,” I say, the ceiling becoming a white blob, “where are you?”

“Alyssa.” I’ve always thought my name was stupid, but when James says it, I don’t mind it so much. “I can’t tell you that.”

I don’t know where he is. That doesn’t stop me from picturing him. I close my eyes, letting loose a few more tears, and I see him leaning his head against the side of a phone booth in the middle of nowhere. I bet he’s got some form of facial hair by now. I bet all those hairs are grey.

I can see that his eyes are closed.

Is he picturing me too?

“I want to be with you.”

“If we were normal,” he says, “and none of this had happened, do you think we would be together?”

“Yes,” I say. My response is immediate. “Of course. We’re written in the stars, James. In all of those alternate universes and galaxies and shit, we’re always together. Even when we’re not.”

James takes a second to find something to say. I bite my lip, praying to whatever thing is hiding above my ceiling, asking for James to stay safe.

“We’re not normal, though, are we?” he says eventually.

“No.” But that’s what I like about us. “My mum wants me to sign a restraining order against you.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, but I’m only seventeen for another five months. After my birthday, it disappears.” Another reason why the restraining order is pointless. “James, I won’t sign it.”

“Do you have a choice?” he says.

I’m a fucking mess. I can hardly get air into my lungs. “No.” I scrunch my face, glad for once that James isn’t here. I would hate for him to see me missing him like this. “Will I ever see you again?”

He’s in my head once more. In my fantasy, or maybe it’s a premonition of sorts (my dad used to tell me my grandma was a witch), he struggles to fight his own bout of tears.

I want him so much.

I need him.

This can’t be healthy.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “If they find me, you probably will. I’m sure it’ll be all over the news.”

“Don’t joke about that,” I warn, though a small, choking laugh escapes without permission. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I never see you again.”

“You’ll forget about me eventually.”

“No, I’d never” I swear. An idea pops into my mind. “If you manage to stay off the map, maybe I’ll be able to join you when I leave school.”

“I like the sound of that,” James says.

“Tell me it’ll work,” I beg, sure I’m wasting all of the fluids in my body on producing tears. “Tell me that when I leave school, we’ll find each other and leave the country for good.”

“We will,” he promises. “We’ll move to America. We’ll get there by boat and live in some midwestern state that nobody cares about.”

“And we’ll change our names and our accents and get jobs working with farm animals.”

“And we’ll live happily ever after,” he says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Happily ever after.”

We will. I know it.

The door to my mum’s room opens. She probably couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts zooming around in her empty head.

“I have to go,” I say, wishing I could teleport to wherever he is. I can’t be in this house anymore. It’s destroying me. “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to, either. But you have to,” James says. “Goodbye, Alyssa. I’ll phone again soon.”

“You better,” I say. “Goodbye, James.”

The line goes silent. A gentle buzz rattles my eardrum, and I am suddenly alone.

If I was a spy, I could trace that call. I could get his coordinates and find him like that. But I’m not a spy. I’m nothing of the sort.

But he’ll phone soon. He said so. Despite how dangerous it is, he will call just to hear my voice. And I will pick up, just to hear his. And we’ll pretend we’re sitting in front of each other in our unknown midwestern state, laughing at each other’s attempts to do an American accent.

That sounds like fucking heaven to me.

I just hope we don’t have to die for it to come true.

#the end of the f***ing world #the end of the fucking world #james x alyssa #my writing #fanfiction #alyssa POV #just a quick one shot I wrote this morning #i felt i should try being alyssa

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