#you could consider wanderer to be mj but

[deadsetobsessions]

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

#tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #Peter Parker #I think you know who his mom is #nightwing #batman #red robin #Frank the Crime Alley kid #Tim Drake #Tw: mentions of torture #Tw: human experimentation #bruce wayne #dick Grayson #gotham #Tw: mentions of human trafficking #Catalina Marie Flores #tarantula #Spider in Gotham AU

[landothemuppet]

Please, notice me | part. one

wordcount → 3.4K

summary → It has been eight months since The Blip. It also has been months since you live with Peter’s new obsession, increased feelings for a girl who isn’t you. You believed you would finally spend time with your friends during the Europe trip, this summer. It was without counting on Peter’s Plan. You try to enjoy those last days in New-York with your best friend.

disclaimer → This mini-series takes place during the events of FFH and NWH movies. The fic will contain many of those movie scenes, including some bonus scenes. the Spider-Man divider is from @silkholland

pairing ↳ peter parker x female!bestfriend!reader

warning(s)  → angst, jealousy.

taglist: @justapurrcat  @delightfulmuffinclamauthor if you want to be added in my taglist, please let me know just here

“I have a plan” Your best friend announced, as he sat spontaneously in his chair, somewhat agitated.

He didn’t wait a second longer to state his so-called plan, as if it seemed the best idea in the world.

But Peter wasn't Peter without his hard-contained hyperactivity, which didn't stop you from smiling to yourself. All of Peter's clumsy features made him incredibly endearing.

Ned listened intently to your friend's ramblings as you absentmindedly continued your drawing in your sketchbook. In fact, Peter always had a plan. Well, he almost always had one, except in the important moments when he let his instincts or his feelings take over. But lately, your sweet best friend had a multitude of plans, all aimed at one and the same goal. And that's why, despite all the consideration you had for the boy with the curly brown hair, you didn't give importance to his new schemes.

You still caught Ned telling your best friend not to do any of this, with a lot of irony, which made you split a small chuckle. You loved your friend’s candor. Ned always had the gift to make you laugh, or just smile, even when it was serious. He tried to convince your friend with arguments about the single life, which you didn’t really pay attention to. To tell the truth, it often happened that you locked yourself in your world while your two best friends rambled about various subjects. Today was not an exception.

Ned had never understood Peter’s sudden fondness for MJ, so do you. It was like your best friend, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man from Queens, had woken up one morning with an obsession… Some wake up from a coma by speaking a language they never spoke… Others, like Peter, discover relatively sudden feelings for people they had never considered before. He always talked about her as if she were the most impressive person on the planet, He always looked at her as if she could hang the moon and the stars, He drank her words as if she could put the universe in a bottle. And it had been going on for months, without you knowing why his feelings had grown overnight. You felt like one day he was madly in love with Liz, the next day he was fighting his father, and the next day MJ had become all of Peter’s conversation subjects. And since then, you felt like your head was going to explode.

Your fingers continued to scribble while your mind continued to wander in your own thoughts. Chance, or the irony of fate, call it what you want, wanting the next song on your playlist to reflect exactly the feelings that lay dormant in you.. You were that kind of person who created incredible scenarios in your head when you were listening to music. Thus, a cover of “Mr. Sandman” could send your mind into a torrential rain, where your body was lying in a pool of blood while your soulmate, the biggest charismatic mobster in London, begged you to stay with him.

"Y/N ?" Peter asked

You looked up, the cloud of thoughts dissipating from your eyes to meet your best friend's chocolate gaze.

There was something with his eyes, something that always attracted you. A comforting warmth, a spark of innocence, an open window to the extraordinary person that was Peter Parker. But at that moment, his expression was one of expectation and as you turned your head towards Ned, you only met the same expression. A question on hold, awaiting your response, your opinion.

“No, yeah…Peter’s right. It’s a great plan”.

Ned shook his head in resignation while your other best friend gave you that idiot puppy smile. You always followed Peter's path, the Filipino knew it. And that sometimes caused tensions in the past. It had always been Ned, you and Peter but your friend was not fooled and knew that your feelings for the one who embodied Spider-Man during his free time, would always take over your decision. It was unintentional.

Yet, You didn't want Ned to feel left out again. You were therefore in an awkward position, not knowing the details of the conversation. But admitting you weren't listening might hurt Peter.

"But Ned isn't wrong either" you added, hoping to satisfy everyone.

Peter grimaced, a look of incomprehension on his face. At that moment, you wished you had listened to Peter's plan, but your heart wasn't in it.

"Okay, sure…" Peter said "But I really like MJ, man"

You have chosen this moment to return to your notebook until Peter's restless behavior distracts you from your drawing again.

"She's coming up. Just DON'T say anything." Peter panicked a bit.

MJ stood in front of you. You politely greeted her with a smile as the two boys rambled on. Ned threw the information that Peter had a plan then tried to catch up. You raised your eyebrows at the "teaspoon collection" excuse, even more so when Peter simply blamed it on Ned. What did you do to deserve friends like that? "Oh. Okay. Well, that was a real rollercoaster." MJ said and again, you try to suppress your chuckle. The brunette girl turned to you, patiently waiting, standing a bit awkwardly as she always did and you pinched your lips and shrugged. She was waiting for your own plans for this trip.

"I guess, I’m going to keep an eye on these idiots and take a little interest in art in Venice… but above all, keep an eye on these morons." "It sounds like a great responsibility," she said in her legendary laid-back manner. "It is."

Peter and Ned gave you their offended but quite adorable looks. It would be a lie to say that you weren't the quiet strength of the group. MJ then advised you to use VPNs to protect yourself from the government and you nodded politely again, this time uninterested in why the young woman was interested in conspiracy theories. Ned merely added a remark about the fact that all this had gone well, implying that MJ had not discovered Peter’s plan, and you laughed as your friend gave the Filipino a somewhat impressed and annoyed look, stalling his tongue against his cheek to suppress a sarcastic remark of which he had the secret.

You liked that side of Peter. You found it rather amusing. That little something, those little facial expressions that hinted that Peter could be pungent. That kind of look he just gave at Ned that told you he was holding back some sarcasm…a little verbal rant that would be extremely well thought out and not necessarily harmful. A kind of "no kidding?" non-verbal. And that made Parker sexy.

Sexy wasn't the first word one would associate with Peter Parker. Some would say: loser, weird, nerd or even would ask ; "who?". Usually, You would have said cute….but at that moment, his somewhat sarcastic attitude made your stomach turn deliciously. Peter's gaze softened as it rested on you and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"So, what are you going to do on this science trip?" he asked, as if you hadn’t already answered the question a few minutes earlier, when MJ asked you to. "Anything but science. I really go there for the art. I mean Italy and France are two countries known for their talented artists, right?"

Your gaze shifted to Ned, who shrugged, unaware of your words. Ned and Peter weren't really cheerful or interested with the Renaissance paintings, they were more like: Star Wars LEGO Death Star. What you also appreciate, you would not lie, but you appreciate the poetry in old paintings and sculptures. Some would call you pathetic, others would simply call you romantic.

The bell rang and you simply put your sketchbook in your backpack. You followed Ned and Peter down the halls, this time a little more focused on the conversation. Several students rushed to clean their lockers before the end of the year, while others seemed eager to throw away their classes as if they would no longer need them. You walked through the doors to a new hallway where you saw Flash throwing food from his locker into a trash can. You could not suppress a grimace of disgust.

"So what are you going to do on your last days in New York?” Ned asked Peter while you three walked through the hall. “Ooh, I have some errands to run.” started to answer Peter

You continued on your way when you felt the projectile thrown by Flash fall on your shoulder bag. You looked at the man with an angry look, not doubting that this piece of stale pizza was undoubtedly aimed at Peter. But the widespread indifference of your best friends about it just kept you going your way, so you could focus on the conversation again.

“I have to get a mini toothpaste, pick up my passport and then take down the Manfredi crime family.” “Oh” Ned said, impressed about the last part of Peter’s to-do list. “Can I come? I need to do that too!” you quickly said, only to face two surprised looks from your friends. “ I mean, except the take down Manfredi crime family thing”

There was hope in your eyes. You wanted to spend some time with Peter because a strange feeling told you that you wouldn't during this trip to Europe. The exchange of glances between your two friends indicated a silent conversation and Peter seemed to hesitate. He looked at you with his sheepish expression, his mouth forming an O, waiting to speak his words.

"Uh yeah.. yeah, I mean, if you have to do it…you can do it with me," he said, moving his head and shoulders frantically in a mismatch between his gestures and his words. You could sense the anxiety and hesitation in his behavior. "Are you sure? I can do it alone if you don't want me…it's just…"

You didn’t want to be a burden on Peter, You initially thought his reluctance was due to his Spider-Man business. Although you’ve been his friend for as long as you can remember, you were only made aware of his dual identity after Ned. The truth is, you discovered his secret recently at the prom. As you were leaving the bathroom to join your group of friends, you had met Peter who would run quickly towards the exit, without having seen you. You saw him lifting a bunch of lockers like he was wearing a light weight. Then Ned disappeared from the evening. The next day, you confronted them and were told: Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

You then thought that his purchases were then about his plan to seduce MJ. So, if he had things he wanted to do in your absence, that was perfectly legitimate. You asked only from a practical point of view. You could see the various feelings passed through the eyes of your best friend: the misunderstanding of your withdrawal, the fear of having possibly hurt you, the panic of your weak disappointment. Peter Parker was a quick emotional kettle.

"No. No, you can come with me. Come with me, please Y/N." Peter asked more peacefully, almost begging you to come this time.

You smiled politely, mixed emotions, and then nodded your head in acquiescence. You weren’t really sure that Peter wanted you to be there. You looked at Ned who shrugged and said he had to be with his Lola for the rest of the week.

You first went to Delmar to buy the necessary supplies: mini toothpaste, and small bottles to pour hygiene products into (shower gel, shampoo, make-up remover), without forgetting about electric plug adaptors. The best grocer in Queens kept cheering you up. He always did. His eagerness and interest in the lives of his clients were always remarkable and you loved the interactions he had with you or with Peter. You were amused to see Mr Delmar’s enthusiasm for the call-up of Europe, and how Peter had destroyed all the hopes of your favorite grocer by evoking science. Once again, you could only understand his reaction, the saw was not the main reason that convinced you to make this trip.

You quietly laughed at Peter trying to ask in Spanish for a headphone double adapter, - knowing that Spain was not a stopover on your trip to Europe, and that Italian, despite what you might think, did not look like Spanish at all - . You pinched your lips so as not to laugh more when the grocer answered him nonchalantly with a simple "what" in Spanish. However, you were not able to suppress a funny smile when Peter asked for the dual headphone adapter, this time in English. Mr. Delmar corrected him with a smile, as you strolled through the nearby candy stand, cuddling Murph who was laying on a display. Peter’s interaction with the grocer made your cheeks warm. Peter had this facility to joke with such confidence, blatantly denying that his Spanish was wobbly and that his request was almost accurate in comparison to the words used by Mr Delmar.

“You finally asked Y/N’s out. You’re a great guy, Peter Parker” Mr Delmar said with a “dad proud” look on his face. “Oh, no…no Mr. Delmar it’s not what you.. ” started Peter, trying to find his words.

Peter's gaze turned to you then to the grocer, several times in a row. His mouth opened and closed to find the words. He seemed to run out of words, overwhelmed, like a stray puppy.

Why did everyone keep believing that you and him could be a thing? May, now Mister Delmar, even Karen, the AI ​​of his suit seemed to believe that Y/N was more than a friend to him.

Could you think so too? Could you think that you both could be " a thing" ? Peter’s heart went crazy, not sure to be excited about it or stressed out, or terrified. You were his friend, right? He really liked MJ, by the way. But the idea of you both dating as…lovers? It couldn't be that bad… Peter shook his head to clarify his mind, trying in vain to find an answer to the grocer.

“We…well, She’s…” the brown haired boy continued.

How could this adorable stuttering boy be the brash and brave Spider-Man? You could clearly see two aspects of his personality… The mask must have helped, you thought.

You had to save Peter from this embarrassing situation. You must have. That's what friends do, right? And to be fair, it was awkward for you too. You wished it were true. You hoped that Peter feels the same way as you do. But you clearly could see how the thought of it disturbed your adorable dork friend. It was hurting you to hear your best friend arguing with his thoughts and words about it, over and over and over…and over. You approached the counter placing three small packets of gummy bears on it.

“We aren't together, Mr. Delmar… There’s for another girl.” you say with a small shy smile, lips pressed together, your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Peter looked at you, he gave you the same smile you gave him a few seconds ago. You could feel the look of pity the grocer was giving you. This man knew everything, he was, as you liked to call him, the soul of Queens. Nothing escaped him, not a single gossip, not a single crisp story escaped his ears. He had always listened, voluntarily or unintentionally. He was the confidant of an entire neighborhood. The best sandwiches in Queens but also the best advice. Peter’s eyebrows frowned at the sight of the gelatin gummy bears, not sure of the reason for this compulsive purchase, on his check.

“Hey, what’s that for?” He practically shouted, somewhat offended by your audacity

You shrugged nonchalantly, almost too confident, a mischievous little smile on the corner of your mouth.

“You owe me one. I bought you some churros the other day” “Fine,” Peter said, defeated.

You wrinkled your nose smiling victoriously and, in your spontaneity, you thanked him while laying a kiss on his cheek, as his became redder than your favorite candy. He might be in love with another girl but Peter Parker, remained Peter Parker. An adorable boy very clumsy with girls.

It was a bad idea. It was even a very bad idea to follow Peter everywhere he needed to go before packing his suitcase for your student trip in Europe.

You were now in a pawn shop and your best friend was trying to resell figurines to get money to offer a special jewel for MJ - unsurprisingly -. Once again, you took a step back, letting Peter do his stuff as you had nothing to sell to this guy who seemed a little unpleasant to you.

“You’re sure about this ?” the salesman asked him. “Yeah. I wanna buy a girl I like something really nice”

Jealousy, Jealousy. You felt your blood boil and turn into liquid acid, and if curses had been real - after all, you lived in a world where your seventeen-year-old best friend had fought an alien in space - your skin would’ve turned a bright shade of green. Not the elegant, poetic emerald green, no. A straight-up radioactive green one that was the perfect metaphor for how "corrosive" was the feeling who grew in your stomach.

Especially since one of these figurines were gifts that you had given to Peter. So, seeing him like that, selling his goods to impress a girl, that put you out of your mind. You were hurt. You felt your worth was less than MJ’s. It wasn’t really about the figurine, you were aware that we were all growing up at some point in our lives and that it was normal for us to separate from material goods over time. You couldn’t understand his logic. Peter was in love, certainly…. But to the point of abandoning objects related to his passions, for a girl? It was improbable. It was totally disproportionate.

‘Hm. Well, I hope she’s worth it. Is it her?’

The man pointed to you, as you walked down the aisles again in search of a trinket. There were so many things at such different prices. You were pretty sure you’d find some treasures in the stalls of that second-hand store. Peter looked at you and his ears turned red.

“Oh. No. No, she’s my best friend Y/N. She’s nice, but she’s not… That’s not her” He tried to whisper so you wouldn’t hear him…as if you possessed his super-hearing. “Whatever.” “Are you done Peter? The passport office will close soon” you asked, a bit anxious to be late at the passport office.

Peter quickly looked at you, his chocolate surprised doe eyes. He blinked, tightened his grip on the strap of his backpack, eager to sell his figurines while hoping not to be scammed by the seller.

“Yeah…yeah” “So, all of them, buddy?” “Actually, can I keep the Lobot” Peter asked, like a sad child, moving almost unbalanced from foot to foot, hesitant.

He reached out to his figurine and the seller gave it back. Peter’s eyes landed directly on the little plastic toy, as if relieved to have picked up the Lobot, an adorable smile on his face.

“Thanks. Yeah, I'll keep that one.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, you were softened by the attitude of your best friend. Even though he was love-struck - and it always hurt you to realize that it wasn’t for you - there was still the Peter Parker you had always known. Same old nerd Peter Parker : nerd but cute.

Finally, you both went to the passport office. The line up was long and you felt Peter become increasingly stressed during the day. As your best friend seemed impatient, you looked up at him and saw him tapping on his phone. You dropped a little surprise cry when a little animal spider came out of her backpack.

"It’s all right, miss," the man in front of you asked you, looking worried. "Yes, yes… I… thought I saw a bee flying near me. It was a simple fly" you covered up your discomfort by coughing.

The stranger frowned and you felt the judgment, you offered him a tight smile before the man turned to focus on the waiting wire. A second later, the metal railing flew to a sold-out window and the red light vigil pointing to the closed station now indicated that it was open. You pinched the fun lips while watching Peter try to be discreet, turning on himself to reach the counter to ask for his passport. You followed it to take advantage of it as well. The trip to Europe could finally begin.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fics #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fics #far from home

[letsunity]

With Thunder Comes Lightning

Summery: Peter and MJ tried again, but the spark wasn't there; they stay as friends to raise their soon-to-be daughter. Everything was going great until evil goop and a spooky vampire guy fall out of an orange portal. Little does Peter know that the biggest pain in his ass and future mutant best friend has landed right at his feet.  

art by @gryphll

Chapter 4 - Appointment

Doctor appointments weren't MJ's favourite thing. She had a phobia of needles and other medical garbage. The smell of sterile stuff made her ill.

Of course, Peter has to be the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. For her safety, MJ had their new buddy.

"It's just a checkup. Everything's going to be fine," MJ told herself, biting her lower lip. "I don't feel fine. Ok. Can I have some encouragement?"

"I've never been to a hospital, so I can't accurately assure your safety," Miguel stated, the coldness of it concerning her. "I'll kill whoever comes too close. Does that help?"

"You're trying. That's helpful enough, tough guy."

"I suspect you're infantilising me."

"I have a baby growing in me. Everyone is an infant to me now. And you're, y'know, a decade younger than me."

His little grumble was cute.

MJ might not know how to make a portal watch or swing webs, but she could see when someone was hurt.

The entire situation hurt her best friend; Peter was a good man with a titanic heart, and it weighed heavily on him. She wanted to hug and tell him it was ok, but she couldn't lie to his face. She didn't know how this would turn out.

He cried himself to sleep last night. He was grieving the loss of his friends alone. He tended to put himself on an island when in pain, not wanting to put the burden on others. It was a selfless part of him she used to love, but now she worried.

Her best friend was in pain, as was her new friend.

"Is there anything that they can do here to help you?" MJ asked, her blue eyes wandering up to meet those dark sunglasses.

"There's nothing to help in my universe. I doubt it'll be any different here."

"You never know. They might have something for those allergies and the light thing."

"No."

"Hmm, that sounds like self-harm."

"It's not undeserved."

"What is it with Spidermen and being all self-sacrificing?"

"We have the power to do something. We can do enough to make a significant change. By sacrificing ourselves, the people we protect can rest in peace. That's what it means to be Spiderman."

"Almost sounds like a quote."

"It was. From the Spiderman of my universe before me."

He was from the future, but MJ didn't even consider there might have been a previous Spiderman. Was it like Peter and Miles?

It's exciting learning about other universes.

"What was he like? The one before you?"

"I never met him. He died long, long before I came to be. When Klyntarus ruled our universe, there weren't any heroes or anybody with the power to do something - I'm... still alone on that front. But he was a good man from what I understand."

At least Peter had co-workers, allies and friends.

She was sad knowing that Peter had died there. All of the other heroes, too. It wouldn't be surprising if Klyntarus had something to do with that.

It's sweet that he was inspired by the original Spiderman, though.

He's right, though. If you can make a change for the better, you should.

The creed of Spiderman is to put others before yourself; it's a heavy burden but an honourable one. She respected it.

"I'm glad that he inspired you."

"Gracias."

MJ didn't like the smell of the hospital entrance. It was messy, sterile and also tainted with puke. Thankfully, she wasn't alone in her disgust.

"Oh, mierda. Huele como una morgue horneada," he hissed, cringing.

"No idea what you said, tough guy, but agreed."

She didn't enjoy having to sign in. The receptionists weren't interested in being helpful, mostly ignoring MJ. They only started to pay attention when Miguel growled; it reminded MJ of a pissed-off cane corso.

Having a giant buff Latino vampire proved helpful. He's like a bodyguard, scaring people into listening to her. She used to do that for Peter when people ignored him for being a nerd.

She loves nerds. They've got so many interests and know many intriguing things. They can never bore you.

With the giant having kidnapped their attention, MJ was finally able to get things moving. All they had to do now was linger in the cesspool of stench until her doctor could be assed.

MJ's not happy about sitting on a warm chair surrounded by sick people, all looking as pleased as her.

She hates hospitals.

"How's your first hospital visit?"

"Mierda."

"Agreed."

Although MJ didn't have spidey sense, she had bullshit sense, courtesy of being a little redhead spitfire. She could detect something akin to one of those space wizards in those movies that Peter enjoyed.

There is a foulness in the force.

With some scouring, MJ spotted the source of the foulness. It was a woman glowering at her and her friend, paler than carved marble; she must be anaemic.

MJ's been around long enough to see one of those people.

She's not standing for it. She might be eight months pregnant and a shorty, but MJ had a spider's spirit.

Hopefully, she could distract him from that witch.

"If it's not rude for me to ask, is Nueva a Spanish version of new york?"

"No. It was destroyed in the calamity of 2038 and was rebuilt by Hector Nueva, soon named after him. I'm just Mexican. A little Irish, too."

"You're a damn big leprechaun."

"Very funny. I'm more like a Chupacabra, anyway."

"And here I thought you didn't like vampires."

"I don't. Vampires suck. Chupacabras are cool."

"They do suck."

"You're worse than Parker."

"I take that as a compliment, thank you."

Peter will feel much better knowing that she's not alone. She's got a buddy guard to protect her from any ominous sludge.

All Miguel has to do is sit in the corner and be spooky.

She was due measurements, weighing, blood pressure, a quick ultrasound, and possibly a pelvic exam - she hated those. It's so awkward and invasive.

While MJ should want nobody else in the room, she doesn't get a pervy vibe from Miguel. He didn't react when she came out of the shower, not bothered or even interested. He didn't have a single care about that sort of thing.

Her bullshit sense often intertwines with her gaydar. He's not straight; she knew that much. If she were a gambler, MJ would put her money on asexual.

Does he know what that is? She might ask later.

"MJ."

"Yeah?"

"We need to leave."

"Wait, is it him? Is he coming?" MJ questioned.

She was scared of being too close to that monster. It's hurt her friends so much, and she hasn't even seen it.

MJ didn't get to ask more as a roar echoed from outside.

Before she knew what was happening, she was facing the pale ceiling, bright orange webbing keeping her there. Several other people were up as well, but not her surprise roommate.

A suited Miguel was beneath her in the waiting room, his hands gripping the thick horn of nonother than Aleksei Sytsevich, also known as the Rhino.

Something was wrong, though. His thick hide was burned and scorched, ooze dripping and refusing to mix with his blood.

His face, usually mixed with rage and bloodlust, was full of fear and anguish. Most of his face was gone, reduced to burned bone. He only had a single eye, but she doubted he could see from it.

"Помогите мне кто-нибудь!" Rhino roared, his voice bloodcurdling and terrified. "Обжигает! Обжигает!"

MJ didn't understand Russian, but she knew he was in agony.

A black sludge ripped from his spine, red eyes scowling at Miguel.

"2099! What a coincidence! Such a little universe, hmm?" Klyntarus cackled, forcing Rhino to push forward. "Such weak little bodies. Can you imagine how it feels to be a flame sailing a sea of kerosene?"

"Eres toda mía, perra mocosa!"

"I look forward to you trying."

She winced as Rhino cried again, begging for help that couldn't come.

Klyntarus rammed into Miguel again, pushing him through the empty reception desk. People were running in panic, terrified.

MJ scrambled for her phone, texting Peter as quickly as she could. As soon as he realised she was there, it would go to ultimate shit.

Pick up your damn phone, Parker!

Peter hopped past Morbius' claws, finding them far less impressive than Miguel's. Honestly, the vamp had nothing on Peter's roommate.

He didn't have Miguel's power or claws; even Miguel's fangs were much more intimidating. The red of his eyes had much more potency than Morbius'.

"You are depriving some village of their idiot!" Morbius sneered, trying to pierce Peter.

"And Twilight is missing one of its vamps!"

Peter jumped on the ledge of a balcony, cracking his aching back.

He wasn't sure how to feel about Morbius now. He was somewhat interested at the beginning. After ten years, though? it got old.

At this point, Morbius was the villain of the week.

Weirdly, he felt like a knockoff compared to his fellow spider. He didn't have the same energy or vibe.

He can't put it into words exactly, but compared to Miguel, Morbius is nothing.

"That movie is an insult to what makes vampires so-"

"-Lame?" Peter finished, uninterested. "Are you going to sparkle now?"

"Insolent brat!"

"I'm almost forty, dude."

"You're younger than me, so you're a brat!"

Man, so this is how Miguel felt.

He's still going to annoy him over being younger. What friend would Peter be if he didn't?

When Morbius pounced, Peter jumped onto a nearby roof, feeling his cracked phone buzz. He should ignore it, given he's fighting a "mighty" foe, but his senses demand otherwise.

Peter looked at his phone, seeing a missed call from MJ. Was she done with her appointment already? That was quick!

The text, however, told him otherwise.

Fuck Peter with a salty menorah. He's there.

"I've got a thing. Debate movies with you later, Mikey!"

"Darn you, Spiderman!"

"Whatever!"

He wasted no chance racing towards the hospital, and police were already surrounding the chaos. He landed upon a police car, fear dancing in his bones.

Peter's spidey senses were screaming to run away, but he couldn't. His friends and baby were in there.

As expected, Jameson was still kicking, talking to news cameras, no doubt blaming Peter for this, somehow. He's glad he quit working for that asshole; it was such a toxic environment.

Whatever, he's too old to care about what Jameson's whining about.

Peter swung inside, smelling the rot already. He's here alright. It disgusted him that Klyntarus was attacking a hospital, but he was already vile; Peter shouldn't be shocked at his evil.

There were glowing, orange webs on the ceiling where MJ's text said she'd been. He couldn't see her anywhere, so he would have to go looking. The trail of bloody melted viscera and rot was a good indicator.

The hospital looked like something out of a horror movie; it was decayed, in ruin. It's been infected by Klyntarus.

He was scared that he would find her and hurt them. He was terrified of being a father but even more afraid of losing his child.

Fuck, how can Miguel cope with losing his daughter? Peter hadn't even met his kid and was scared for them.

Peter crept through the ruins, cautiously stepping over suspicious mounds that stank of death. He relied on his spidey senses, but they were overwhelmed by that monster's presence.

Something big had barrelled through the hospital, almost like a torpedo or tank. It would take ages to fix this place up if that were even possible.

Klyntarus destroyed everything around him. It's likely that wherever he goes, it's inhospitable.

He saw some glowing web, a sign of his teammate. He followed it, finding a deep hole that ran so far down that Peter couldn't see the bottom. It appeared to reach the under levels of the hospital; there should only be a basement, though.

Another buzz from his damaged phone - a text!

Peter stared at it, analysing the three dancing dots that eventually became a message. His heart was tachycardic with worry and fear.

The older Spiderman ran, looking at the fading numbers on the doors he passed. He paused at 16B, the one that MJ's number indicated. Despite knowing it could be a trap, Peter broke the door open, scouring the room.

MJ was sitting beside a gurney. She was in shock, afraid and alone.

A recently deceased young man lay not far from her. He was horrifically burned, and most of his left leg was reduced to sludge. He died slowly; Peter knew that as soon as he spotted him.

He quickly came to his best friend's side, checking her for injuries.

"He had Rhino's body," MJ whimpered, shaking from the ordeal. "He was crying for help, Peter. Rhino. He was in agony."

That explained why the hospital had a giant hole in it.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Peter said, bridal carrying his close friend. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No. No, Miguel distracted him so we could run out. Something went wrong, though. The bodies didn't stay -"

"Parker!"

Peter twisted to the deceased man, who was now sitting up, black fluid running from his orifices. His eyes were empty, devoid of life, but something was in there, puppeteering him.

He was close to tightening his grip but knew it'd hurt MJ. He wouldn't do that to her.

She clung to his body, hiding her face in his chest.

"He will reign long, and your friend will be far too gone!" the corpse cackled, rotting at an astonishing rate. He melted to bones before Peter's eyes. Not even his clothes survived the rot.

As cryptic as that was, Peter knew what it was implying.

Peter had to get MJ outside first, however.

He made his way out of the hospital, feeling that fear fade with each step. The further from Klyntarus he was, the more confident he felt.

Did Klyntarus' very presence rot your soul? It seemed so.

"Keep her safe," Peter ordered a surprised and confused police officer, turning back towards the building. "And don't let anybody else inside. I mean it."

"It's the same thing that killed those heroes, isn't it?" the officer said, removing her jacket to cover MJ. "Don't die in there, Spiderman."

"I don't plan on it."

He couldn't make any promises.

So, fear growing in his chest, Peter returned to the leftover Walking Dead set. He wouldn't be shocked to find Rick Grimes' room where he was somehow untouched in a coma for a year.

That entire show was a fever dream; he was sure of it. After Glenn died, the only fun left was, ironically, Negan. He'll have to make Miguel watch that.

When he arrived at the suspicious hole, Peter jumped. His knees complained when he landed, cracking in all the wrong and unsatisfying ways.

The fear of Klyntarus was far more potent than before, suffocating Peter in an aura of fear and death.

He's not looking for that thing, though.

Peter quickly spotted the entrance to a tunnel that shouldn't exist.

Rhino's body lay mangled and twisted at the entrance like a macabre decoration. Instead of being melted, it looked like a savage beast and tore the poor bastard apart. He didn't want to be on the backside of whatever caused that.

He walked down the tunnels, listening out for his friend.

His senses went off, sending a tingle down his spine. He turned around, annoyed to see Morbius had followed him.

"Not the time, Count Lame-ula. Ugh, that sounded better in my head. Whatever, could you go and haunt some little kid's birthday party? I'm in the middle of something."

"What horrors could have created such strife?" Morbius asked, both in awe and horrified by the situation.

"An extradimensional genocidal evil Symbiote that decays whatever he touches. You should go before you eats you, too."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

"You're trying to deceive me!"

"Not everything is about you!"

"Fool! I am the reincarnation of the great Count Dracula!"

"Sure, and I'm the reincarnation of Link - see my little fairy, Navi? We're on our way to rescue Zelda," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes behind his mask. "Just go bother someone else, alright?"

Vampires suck.

Peter paused, feeling something else was down here. It wasn't Klyntarus, but it felt similar and yet distinct. He could feel it was nearby and dangerous, but not the precise position.

That "something" was coming and fast.

Of course, Morbius acted like a child and attempted to attack Peter while distracted. He wouldn't get the chance to get close, however.

A blur of red and dark pounced upon Morbius before he could reach Peter, his senses screaming at him to run. He couldn't see what it was but could hear the rabid rage and terrified cries.

Peter webbed the mysterious form and pulled it away from Michael, hearing a dog-like grunt of annoyance and frustration.

A pair of deep, red eyes stared back at Peter. They were similar to Klyntarus'; they had his unique shade, but Klyntarus didn't have pupils or irises. The eye shape was far too human to be Klyntarus, even if he tried to make a human body.

The eyes were what Peter was focused on at first, but then he saw what the rest of the red was.

A suit.

"Miguel?" Peter questioned, realising what, or rather who, he was looking at.

His pupils were so thin they were almost non-existent. He was shaking, breathing heavily and hunched over, foamy drool dripping onto the ground.

While Miguel didn't exist to Peter's spidey sense, this did. It wasn't the same as Klyntarus, but it was similar enough.

Miguel was swallowing air. It's like he was in a scary trance, trapped far away.

His claws were out, ready to scratch something that wasn't there. His fingers were shaking so much.

Peter felt like he was looking at a werewolf, pure instinct and consciousness battling for control, and the former was dominant.

Morbius shifted into shadows, reforming behind "Miguel". It was a stupid idea, for Miguel turned and bit Morbius' arm.

Having seen what it could do to Klyntarus, Peter grabbed his friend. The stupid villain was clawing at Miguel's face, trying to make him let go. Glowing blue was dripping from Morbius' arm - the venom was already being delivered.

"Get it off me!" Morbius yelled, turning his vampiric claws to Miguel's neck. He wouldn't let go, eyes staring at something that wasn't there.

It was clear Miguel wasn't there. He couldn't hear Peter, stuck in this bizarre and scary trance.

An idea came to Peter.

He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it directly into Miguel's eyes.

The trance version of his friend yowled, letting go to cover his eyes. While Morbius had left deep scratches on his face, the photophobia forced him to let go.

Morbius stumbled back, his arm shaking horribly.

Ignoring the vampire, Peter grabbed Miguel's shoulders, trying to figure out what was happening.

His "buddy" dropped his arms loosely, glowering towards Peter, but it didn't seem directed at him.

"It's me. It's Peter, alright?" Peter said, trying to get through to him. "How about we sit down? Does that sound good?"

He knew Miguel was much more powerful than him, but Peter's faster. If he needed to, Peter could stick to the walls or ceiling.

Encouraging his distant friend to sit down, Peter watched him, paying attention to his eyes.

Without any stimulation, he watched the redness in his eyes fade. When the red left, some awareness returned, replaced by confusion.

"What happened?" Peter asked, glancing at the groaning Morbius still clutching his arm.

"Había mucho ruido," Miguel muttered, rubbing his eyes. "He tried to take me. Estúpido bastardo."

The corpse's warning.

Did Klyntarus trigger a flight or fight response, only instead of Miles' invisibility, Miguel went rabid? It could've been a PTSD thing, too.

"Where's MJ?"

"She's safe," Peter said, feeling Klyntarus' presence growing. "We need to go."

Peter grabbed the taller man's side, feeling his broken ribs. That never seemed to stop him.

"I can move."

"I don't doubt that, but you still seem out of it."

The possession attempt had an impact, as he was still spaced out. It was like he was stoned or drunk.

"Happens sometimes," his friend grunted, a noise that did things Peter wished it didn't. "I didn't hurt you?"

"No. All I'm hurting from is arthritis."

"I always hurt someone..."

He didn't like hearing the sadness and regret there. And Peter couldn't say that he hadn't. He attacked Morbius and must've killed Rhino, though that seemed to be a mercy.

"Indeed."

Peter scowled at Morbius' body, watching "his" head tilt. While Peter was focused on Miguel, he didn't even realise Morbius got snatched.

He didn't like the guy, but Morbius didn't deserve that fate.

The kidnapped body was already starting to decay.

"I'm going to take everything from you, Peter. I'll break you in ways you didn't think could be broken. And I'll have him, too," Klyntarus vowed, tilting Morbius' head too far to the right. "I'll let you play with my toy for now. It'll make it all the easier to break him after I've shredded your soul."

"What's to stop me from walking over there and ripping you out of there?"

"Because you're like all the other Parkers I've eaten. You don't kill, even when you want to. You won't kill me while I'm in someone's body. It's cowardice I thankfully bred out of my true body." His friend hissed, but it only made Klyntarus smile. "You've come so far from the fragile ball of flesh I ripped from that whore wetback."

Peter can't kill. It's his greatest strength and his weakness. How is he meant to beat something that'll only stop if it's destroyed?

He needed to get Miguel out of here and look after MJ. He had to find somewhere safe for her to stay.

Regardless of how his friend felt, they needed help. They were going to get the X-Men for backup.

"Until I find a more suitable temporary vessel, Parker. Farewell."

Peter shot a web at Morbius' possessed body, but he vanished into shadow.

Another day where he could've done something but didn't have the balls. That was a theme he was getting angry at.

"Maldito cobarde."

"Yeah, to whatever you said, pal."

Xavier's going to have a field day over this.

Special thanks to spider-the-bat for the borders!

#ao3 refugee #ao3 might be fucked #ao3fic #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #spiderdads #klyntarus #symbiotes #mj watson #bestie goals mj #across the spider verse #spiderman atsv #attempted spanish #plague of the spiderverse series #with thunder comes lightning

[blueaetherr]

could you pls write a second part to “to love and to be loved”? maybe a continuation where trent confesses or where they’re already together? you choose<3

when fates align

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x gn!reader [they/them]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where trent and y/n unknowingly witness their fates fall into perfect position

author's note: part two to this imagine

now playing: favourite by nicki minaj ft. jeremih

During the early night, Trent and Y/N were up in the hills of LA overlooking the grand sight of the City of Lights. Up there, alone together as an unbothered pair, there was amusement and enjoyment as they smiled and laughed at whatever and drank whatever they wanted, vibing to the music they chose to play aloud for everyone yet nobody to hear.

Considering the end of the season Trent decided to on holiday, and with Y/N. It was not only his chance to drift away from his daily life but to also spend some valued time with his friend. Fortunately, Trent knew his dear Y/N so well, so well that he understood that they were still in their feelings about their ex-lover even if they refused to say it. Either way, Trent wanted Y/N to feel better about themself, to have them neglect their past lover in mind and thought.

The open environment, the calm scenes they had sight of almost every day, being some miles away from their relationship problems, blasting their favourite tunes without fear of judgement, playing both childish and explicit games—it provided Y/N with enough assurance that let them decompress and relax for a minute, letting Y/N enjoy the time spent together with her friend, something Trent deeply cherished for some right and wrong reasons.

"I remember playing Just Look Over Shoulder while I was getting ready for some party and he told me you know it's sampled, right?" Y/N started with their focus on the picturesque views of LA. "And obviously I knew 'cause you can just hear MJ's voice throughout the song, but I didn't know what song was sampled. So he introduced me to the original song and from then on, my appreciation for sampled songs went to another level, especially this one," they exhaled softly before turning to Trent with a hopeful glance. They clasped their fingers together. "So what do you think?"

After listening to the I'll Be There, Trent took the earphones out of his ears. Then he nodded in approval, his facial expression remaining positive and bright. "Yeah, I think it's really nice."

"Oh yeah?" Their eyes gleamed with excitement. Not that Y/N expected their music taste to be turned down, but rather she cared a lot about his opinion— because it was Trent.

"Of course," Trent said with a small laugh, adjusting his position on his car's hood. He cleared his throat, before folding his arms. "I don't think you can go wrong with the Jackson 5."

"I know." Then there was a slight dip in their smile, their eyes falling to their lap. "I hate that I love it though, and every other sampled song."

"Wait, why?" Trent wondered as a frown settled across his lips, his eyes clouded with sympathy. For a minute he thought he had done everything to let Y/N destress and relax. I mean everything had been going so well for some time until some moments ago. It was a mild guess, but he could guess it was caused by the thought of a past lover.

Y/N shook her head. They knew they would find some level of shame in their reasons. "I love them 'cause of him." And I'm correct, Trent thought. With their fingers picking at their shorts, they explained, "Every time I listen to them– some even being my favourite songs– my thoughts go back to him. I think about him and I don't want to, you know?"

Trent's eyes wandered around the scenery before they returned to Y/N, asking, "Do you hate your ex?"

"No. Not really." In truth, Y/N could never hate their ex-partners, both more and less recent ones. Their relationships never ended with arguments, hateful words or with resentment. Instead, the two parties always ended on mutual terms and exchanged their best wishes before parting ways. There was nothing to hate or even dislike about their partners when respect was a given for all of them. 

"It's the fact that everything we had—which was something really good—has kinda been left for me to hold for now," Y/N held their hand up as if they were holding something. "From what I've seen, he's kinda moved on."

Trent nodded slowly, carefully thinking out his response. In simple, he wanted to restore his friend's happiness and confidence. "Your liking towards sampled songs shouldn't be burdened by your ex introducing them to you," he assured, moving his shoulders up and down. "I mean unless you can, I can't see you unliking them any time soon."

They bit the inside of their cheek. "Then what do you suggest I should do?"

"Redirect your feelings about sampled songs towards other things and people," Trent advised, "That way you can enjoy them without having your ex in mind."

Y/N hummed, "Other things and people, huh?"

Noticing the humour and suggestiveness in their response Trent's lips stretched upward, his dimples on perfect display. "Anything and anyone you want."

Y/N tilted their head slightly. "Like a new partner?" When his face dulled Y/N let out a chuckle, holding their stomach. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, relax," they reached their hand on the nape of their neck and leaned back a bit. "I know I'm not in the right place to be in a new relationship."

Although Y/N wasn't quite over their ex, their self-worth and confidence still remained. They understood well that they were lovable and all their other relationships were just simply unfortunate and temporary, and not wastes of time. That there would be a time, maybe after a few more relationships, when they would remain in a stable one. That somewhere there was someone who they sooner or later could define as home and experience, fulfilling their desire to be loved. They just had to be patient and willing to be given the right person rather than trying to rush fate.

"Remember a few weeks ago when you told me you had someone in mind?" They asked as their eyes settled on the views in front of them. They couldn't help it—so mesmerising and delicate to the eye from a high rural position.

"Briefly, yeah," Trent coughed out a response, his words opposing his thoughts so well. He hadn't expected the two to return to the conversation. Not only was it a few weeks ago but he thought Y/N would take it as him speaking hypothetically (even though he wasn't). "What about it?"

"Well, I've been thinking about it, you know, 'cause I love and value your opinion so much. So I've been trying to imagine the next person I might be with, trying to guess if you were describing one of our friends or maybe someone I haven't met yet. And it's been hard 'cause everything you said I mean..." Y/N stretched their words as they lifted their hand above their head, "You set the standards high like that."

Monitoring their facial expression Trent was quick to notice their mild sadness. He patted their shoulder before assuring softly, "You've always had high standards." He didn't just say that to reassure his friend—he truly believed Y/N held high standards when it came to dating. This was evident in the fact that he never found himself hating or disliking any of their ex-partners. What they saw as their low standards was the fact their relationships failed to last for significant lengths of time.

"Yeah, but they're always kinda redundant by the time the relationships end. Anyway, I've thought, and thought, and thought and... I don't know. But whoever it is, wherever they may be right now, they do sound wonderful," Y/N nodded, their recent frown forming into a smile. And though it was small, it managed to reach their eyes perfectly. Then they directed their words towards Trent, "Just like you, so really, I have nothing to stress about, right?"

Something quite evident about the pair's friendship was the fact that Y/N highly appreciated Trent, in both platonic and otherwise ways. He provided their bests through their worst, he provided them reassurance when their confidence was low. He always went beyond the expectations of one's typical friend and for that, they would forever remain grateful that he was involved in their life every day.

For some time there was some quiet between the two, soft music from the speaker brought along lounging in the air. The blend of everything, the soft music, the default romantic scenery they found themselves in, the invisible feelings in the air, and Trent's loud thoughts overwhelming his judgement—was enough for Trent to say what had been on his mind for some time, somewhere as early as Y/N's first relationship.

"I didn't want to tell you a few weeks ago 'cause I thought it would be cruel considering you just broke up with your partner, and I also didn't want to pressure you into feeling any type of way and I'm not expecting anything in return. That wouldn't have been nice, would it? And to be honest, I feel like I shouldn't be saying this now either since you still seem to be getting over your ex. But I just wanted to let you know, that's all."

Y/N's face fell at his words, some confusion yet understanding falling over them. They didn't know exactly what Trent was saying, but they were willing to tune in carefully.

"I'm the person I've had in mind for you. I'm this wonderful person I was talking about a few weeks ago. I'm the wonderful person you're talking about now, the one who set your standards high apparently. Again, you don't have to say anything. I-I—" Trent exhaled deeply as he closed his eyes. His lack of sight gave him some clarity, letting him focus. "Clearly, you've taken my words seriously, so I feel like it's only fair to tell you so I don't lead you astray when everything I was talking about was about, well, me."

Opening his eyes Trent was faced with Y/N. Slowly, realisation dawned on their face as their mouth fell open. It was then that Trent felt panic cross over his face. Did he just say all that for everything to not work out in the end?

But then they came through, their facial expression beginning to open up. "I don't know, Trent... I feel like you're forcing fate right now."

"Really? You've been thinking and wondering about that? " Trent scoffed out a small laugh, one full of relief and happiness. Relief and happiness in finally knowing that the feelings he had been holding towards someone for some time weren't all for nothing and one-sided. "I don't know about you but it sounds like everything's falling into place just right."

Y/N shrugged with a smile, one shy yet somehow still mirroring Trent's. "Maybe is it, you know." They declared, "You're one of my favourite people, Trent. Well, you are my favourite person." Unconsciously, their exes were based on their dear friend, Trent. His vibrant personality, his dull humour, his high standards. That's why Y/N's ex-partners were all so perfect in not only their eyes but also Trent's eyes; Y/N liked everything that was Trent while Trent would, obviously, love everything that was him.

Together, the two shared kind smiles, laughter and conversations. There wasn't anything different about them, but the fact that both Trent and Y/N learned something new about one another—something both of them had wanted to be true for so long—just made their interactions now seem like a different and new experience, something where their visible emotions and feelings were involved.

There was so much to say, so much the two wanted to say, so much that needed to be said. For understanding, to ease minds, to learn all the details there was to know. 

But Trent and Y/N would wait. In that moment, emotions were overwhelming and one wanted to say this and that that it would be too chaotic. Allowing what the two wanted to happen right now would ruin the events that were supposed to happen, rushing fate. So Trent and Y/N would be patient and willing for when it would be okay to move forward, and for once, together.

In the meantime, Trent and Y/N would enjoy their time together somewhere in the hills of LA. They would cherish their final moments together as just friends, knowing that when they would return to their holiday home, when they would return to England, or when a few weeks or months have passed, the two would get to spend time together as everything they have wanted for each other and for themselves—loving (Y/N) and being loved (by Trent).

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold oneshots #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x gn!reader #gn!reader #trent alexander arnold x black!reader #black!reader #football imagines #trent alexander arnold blurbs #football fanfiction #football fanfic #football oneshots #football fluff #black reader

[themculibrary]

Fics With Titles That Start With G Masterlist

Gaja (ao3) - rustingroses bruce/natasha T, 11k

Summary: The doors to the prison cell slammed open, and a woman in a low-cut scarlet dress that perfectly matched her hair came striding in. Her locks curled around ivory shoulders and a gold necklace, framing a serious face. Her lips, too, matched her hair, drawing the eyes irrevocably to that full mouth, made for sin. Her clear blue-grey eyes glinted even in the dim overhead lighting. Aphrodite wouldn’t have turned her nose up at such a figure or face; if the goddess possessed even a portion of this woman’s beauty and grace, no wonder Paris had given Aphrodite the apple.

Of course, as far as he could recall, no goddess carried a pair of strappy gold heels in one hand and a gun in the other.

Huh, Bruce thought woozily as the Hulk roared with frustration and rage at this new threat. Bruce tightened his grip on the Hulk and the cage of anger that contained it, forcing it to yield to him. Bruce had chosen to be here, and had not chosen lightly. This woman would not wrest his control from him. I didn’t know hallucinations were a side effect of this drug.

Gardens of Asgard (ao3) - a_kinkajou, hermionesmydawg steve/bucky E, 11k

Summary: They were warned numerous times - don't veer off the path in the Gardens of Asgard.

Of course, Steve Rogers heeds the advice of no one. Ever.

gator around the warm beds of beginners (ao3) - napricot sam/bucky E, 39k

Summary: How Sam and Bucky get by, after Thanos is defeated. Or: the story of how two idiots become roommates, partners, friends with benefits, and maybe something more, if they could just stop being so oblivious, while they wait to find out if their Steve’s ever coming back from his trip through time.

Gentlemen Prefer Pink (ao3) - glittercake steve/bucky E, 5k

Summary: Steve considers him for a moment.

“Beg for it.”

Bucky makes a terribly helpless sound, “Steve! Fucksake! Steve, please??”

He grins, stares down at Bucky’s mouth as he says the words. He’s probably a dick for getting off on it, “Nicely.”

ghosts that we knew (ao3) - wilsonsnest sam/bucky T, 46k

Summary: Sam (reluctantly) agrees to do a commission for Steve's rich but extremely reclusive friend, James Barnes.

Sam just stared at the other man, the feeling of being watched suddenly overcoming him. God, what kind of weirdo didn’t even come to greet their guests? It was one thing to be a rich recluse, but another thing to just completely ignore people wandering around your house.

“Steve, this is really weird.” Sam stressed. “This isn’t weird to you?”

Gift of Asylum (ao3) - carleton97, sister_wolf clint/darcy E, 47k

Summary: The story of how Darcy Lewis accidentally helps found the Avengers while having an epic, failboaty romance with that dude she nailed in a bar two years ago. Tasers, jackbooted thugs, Tony Stark, and life-altering job offers are par for the course when you help discover an alien/god dude with amazing pecs.

Glow (ao3) - glittercake sam/bucky E, 3k

Summary: Sam showers Bucky with compliments and ridiculous nicknames. It's not Bucky's fault that he starts falling for the guy.

Go And Make Aunt Peggy Proud (ao3) - Nanerich pepper/tony, steve/bucky, mj/peter, peggy/husband T, 19k

Summary: When Howard screws around with one of Hank Pym’s quantum theories, things go south, quickly and that in a way Peggy did not imagine in her wildest dreams: they end up in the year 2019. Luckily, a vigilante in a bright red, skintight spidersuit can help them out and take Peggy and Howard to who will be able to help them out.

Go For The Throat (ao3) - laylabinx T, 9k

Summary: Peter finds out the hard way what it means to be the Ravager mascot and Yondu uses this as an opportunity to teach him how to kick someone's ass.

Going Yard (ao3) - Brenda steve/bucky E, 41k

Summary: Going Yard: Baseball vernacular for hitting a home run.

This is the love story of shortstop Steve Rogers and pitcher Bucky Barnes, estranged childhood best friends about to be reunited on the same team.

This is a love story about New York's other baseball team, the Avengers, and their quest to claim the National League East division title.

This is a love story about going home and new friends and team bonding and first loves and how the people you're the closest to can also drive you the craziest.

But mostly, this is a love story about baseball and the boys of summer who play it.

gonna marry that boy (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor clint/tony G, 6k

Summary: Clint runs a coffee shop with his best friend Natasha, and he has a crush on one of the customer's, but he's never actually talked to this boy. He's awkward enough as it is, and things get even more difficult once he learns who the customer is.

Good Things Come to Those Who Look (ao3) - notbeloved07 bruce/tony T, 5k

Summary: Back when Tony was at MIT and Bruce at Harvard, at some point they met--science convention, bar night, what have you--and had an instant connection. Bruce let it go, in part because he was focused on Betty, but Tony didn't have a whole lot of moments where he'd felt actual genuine connections and he held on to that encounter.

Now, after Afghanistan, Tony realises just how important those connections are and he tries to find Bruce. When he stumbles on to him in Shield's files, he talks Fury into putting Hulk on the Avengers roster, brings him in, and desperately tries to balance world-saving with hardcore flirting and coming up with ways to get Bruce to stay.

Got a Heart in Me, I Swear (ao3) - thepartyresponsible bucky/clint, steve/tony M, 36k

Summary: The pictures leak on a lazy off-season Sunday, in that muddled bit of midafternoon Clint never knows what to do with when he isn’t training. He curls up with Lucky on the couch and naps through the end of his whole damn life. And that, honestly, is pretty much perfect.

got the waves running through your thighs (ao3) - bisamwilson sam/bucky E, 2k

Summary: The first drink he’d ordered upon landing on the island was, in fact, a sex on the beach, just for the novelty of it all. Peach schnapps had never been his favorite—a fact which had thoroughly confused everyone from the time he’d started to drink—but it was the principle of the thing.

He’s drinking a piña colada now, much more to his taste, and enjoying the feeling of the sun on his skin and the sand between his toes, trying his best to not feel annoyed at how much reading Bucky saw fit to do on this vacation.

Apparently, he’d really thought she’d meant a drink.

Got to Do What You Love (ao3) - BlackEyedGirl clint/phil M, 8k

Summary: Phil has control issues, Clint has power issues, and the Avengers are a bundle of issues. It’s no wonder Maria wants nothing to do with them. Phil doesn’t seem to have a choice.

gotta make me follow through (gotta make me chase it) (ao3) - aniloquent sam/bucky N/R, 5k

Summary: The one where Sam's a hot vegan grocer and Bucky lies to get him to go out with him.

Great Unknown. (ao3) - ClaraxBarton bucky/clint T, 3k

Summary: Smugglers and dragons and karaoke and space. Oh my.

That’s it. That’s the summary. Enjoy or suffer at your will.

Ground Control to Major Tom (ao3) - Ellen Fitzwilliam Brandybuck (AFixerMuse) drax/mantis M, 39k

Summary: Waking from a centuries-long cryogenic sleep, alternate Earth astronaut Major Tommiah Jones finds herself among space pirates, in a world and time apart from her reality. Now she must do what's necessary to survive, find purpose, and perhaps avoid falling in love with trouble incarnate: Yondu Udonta. Song prompted one-shots. Humorous smut

Grow To Be (ao3) - Sororising sam/bucky T, 110k

Summary: Sam flops back down onto the bed, shoving a few of the pillows behind his head and upper back - there’s way too many for one bed; if you multiply that by thirty bedrooms there must be -

“I can’t do math when I’m drunk,” he says mournfully. “Bucky, come here and help me do math.”

Bucky lets out a small laugh. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

Sam doesn’t know how to unpick that sentence. He isn’t even going to bother trying; he just waves his arm around in Bucky’s general direction, hoping that he’ll make contact eventually.

Grumpy Coffee Kitten (ao3) - rebelmeg harley/shuri, mj/peter, bucky/darcy, clint/natasha T, 26k

Summary: When Clint Barton, the owner of Bean There, Brew That, takes off on an extended vacation, he leaves his coffee shop in the hands of his trusted sidekick, Darcy Lewis. Darcy is not prepared for this, but that's not going to stop her from keeping the shop going, keeping her sassy baristas in line, and maybe getting a tiny bit smitten with the new regular that started showing up, looking like a sleepy assassin and cooing at his coffee.

Bucky Barnes is a former soldier trying to deal with the effects of PTSD, at the encouragement of his best friend and not-actually-a-therapist Sam Wilson. It might have been sort of an accident the first time he steps into Bean There, Brew That, but it's a first step in a really good direction. He likes the coffee shop, he likes the people that run it, and he definitely likes the sugar-soaked monstrosities that they make for him on a daily basis.

What could possibly go wrong with putting a recovering veteran in the hands of a bunch of sarcastic baristas with access to legally addictive stimulants? The answer is... not much, actually.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #ficsg #ficsg masterlist #masterlists

[startistdoodles]

I'm curious about one thing. If MJ were to disappear forever, how would Hyde feel? Would he care???

“Mary, say something…please, speak to me…” Joey blubbered as he wiped the excess ink off his daughter—or what was left of her. Beneath the soft outer shell laid his precious child, but it was too late. She was already so close to completion, that when the power was cut she was left a disgusting, lifeless beast.

With trembling hands, Joey grasped her face and pressed it to his forehead, soft cries murmuring through his lips.

“My baby girl…what have I done…oh what have I done…”

– A Star is Born

(If I am interpreting the question right, then yeah, he would be heartbroken.

He really does love MJ, even if his ways of showing it are questionable at best–taking the deepest and oftentimes darkest paths for her sake.……..Or maybe for his own sake…)

#ask #ask hyde #hyde #wanderer #mary jane drew #samuelstanfordart #i bring this up only cause technically?? MJ is gone forever?? #if you really squint at it #you could consider wanderer to be mj but #idk #do with this info what you will jaskjsa

[peterpparkerwrites]

begin again - part eight (final)

a/n: currently on hiatus - look at my pinned post for more info! I have this series and the following ones scheduled to post twice a day - once at 11:00 AM PST and once at 7:00 PM PST. since I will be gone and can’t update links, if you want to find previous parts, just scroll down my page :) warnings: language, death mentions, anxiety/ptsd mentions, drinking mentions, blood mentions, gun mentions, sorry for all that LMAO pairing: college peter x reader word count: 5k

masterlist ~ requests are closed!

taglist: @lilbeatlebear @somefuckshit1 @hufflepuffseeker @nocturnalms

@sanniesdiary 

~

Peter woke up to a bottle of advil and cup of water by his bed, and a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that wasn't just nausea.

He didn't drink very often, and it usually took a lot for him to get drunk because his powers fought against it. But it was possible, and he proved that only once before when he and Ned were being stupid and wanted to test it out.

Now he did it for the second time, and he really wished he hadn't.

You didn't leave any trace that you were there except for the advil and water, which brought some anxiety to his stomach. He wanted to call and make sure you got home alright, he knew you had been drinking too and the thought of you wandering back alone made him feel even more sick.

But he stumbled out of his room to see one of his blankets draped over the back of the couch and relaxed a little. You must've slept on the couch and left this morning. His chest tightened at that, wondering if you stayed because you didn't want to go home alone and drunk, or maybe...you wanted to make sure he was okay until the morning.

He scrapped that thought quickly, highly doubting it was the latter. You probably hated him, especially after that stupid stunt he pulled last night.

He felt sick again as soon as he remembered. Why was he so stupid?

Instead of dwelling on that he went to his room to grab his phone, knowing that he should at least thank you. The amount of messages you had sent from the last two months made him more annoyed at himself, but it wasn't like he could change it now.

thanks for bringing me home

He bit his lip as he sent it, deciding to type out another text.

i'm sorry

With a sigh he rubbed his chin and grabbed the glass of water, chugging it to try and get the gross taste of alcohol out of his mouth before deciding it would be best to just brush his teeth.

You didn't reply right away, which he had expected. He knew you were a quick replier but that was different now - he had left you on read for months, he would've been stupid to expect you to reply right away, or even at all.

To his surprise his phone dinged and he scrambled to finishing brushing his teeth and grabbed it, sighing in disappointment when he realized it was just a text from MJ.

His annoyed expression turned confused when he saw what she sent, though.

don't be stupid then, loser, just be honest with her. also i'm not your therapist why don't you text ned about this. and drink some water you sound fucked

With a little panic he went to see what he texted her before, realizing he must have messaged her while he was drunk. He was surprised she could even understand half of the things he sent, considering there were a ton of typo's and sentences that made no sense. Except for one.

I really rally like her but Im scared i messed it up

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, the nauseous feeling coming back. Apparently drunk Peter had a way easier time admitting how he felt than sober Peter. He went back to MJ's text and chuckled a little, shaking his head at her bluntness.

He could always count on her to tell it to him straight without caring if his feelings were hurt.

He was shaking as MJ cleaned up his knuckles, trying to get him to unclench his fist a little. She had been startled when he showed up at her window covered in blood with red rimmed eyes and the mask clenched between his fists, but he was able to say what happened despite how much it hurt, and she decided her first priority was to help him.

Grieving could be pushed until later.

"Why did you come to me?" She asked quietly, staring up at him with slight concern in her eyes.

"I don't want Ned or May to see this," he croaked out, "They'd-they'd be so disappointed."

"But you didn't-"

"No, I didn't kill him, but I wanted to, I-I almost did. I easily could have," Peter bit his lip to stop it from trembling, "MJ, she was just lying there-"

"Don't," MJ said firmly, though Peter could hear a little shake in her voice. She was her best friend, too. "I can't hear that Peter, and you shouldn't dwell on it, it'll just make you feel worse."

He went silent as she continued to clean up his bloodied hands, the sight of them making him angrier. He never hurt anyone with the intent that he did tonight, and he wished he felt more guilty about it.

How could he not feel guilty about hunting down her murderer?

"So...he's gonna live?" She asked after a moment, wrapping the bandages carefully around his hands.

"Yeah. I think he'll be in the hospital a while before jail but...yeah," Peter held his other hand up while she moved to get another bandage.

"You did the right thing," she replied, "I know it doesn't feel like it but...you did. Killing him wouldn't have brought her back."

This is why he chose to come to MJ instead of May or Ned, not only because they were so clear in their expressions that he would know right away if they were disappointed (which they would inevitably be) - he knew MJ would tell it to him straight, even if it hurt to hear.

"Thank you," he replied quietly, shutting his eyes while she finished cleaning his cuts.

She nodded and finished wrapping the bandage, cutting the end with some scissors and taping it on. "Do her parents know?"

Peter swallowed, wishing he could get rid of the looks on her parents faces when he showed up as Spider-Man to deliver the news. "Yeah, they went to the hospital last I knew but...but she was already..."

MJ sniffed a little, quickly wiping her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Peter."

"Yeah...I am too."

"I can't believe she's gone," she said quietly, sitting on her bed next to him. "It doesn't feel real."

"I'm sorry I told you like this," Peter muttered but she quickly shook her head, taking one of his hands in hers.

"I'd rather hear it from you than in the news or a phone call," she sighed, "And I'm glad you came to me for help. We're gonna get through this, Peter. You and me and Ned and all of us."

He squeezed her hand a little, "Yeah...we'll get through it."

He wished he could believe that.

His phone went off again and he snapped out of it, clicking the new text from you.

don't worry about it.

No smiley face, no goofy emojis. His heart hurt a little at that, but he knew he deserved it.

He deserved a lot worse than that.

-

And I...I really missed you

Once you slept and took several pain killers and drank probably a gallon of water, you let yourself wonder why the hell you were letting those words bother you so much.

You didn't really have to wonder why they bothered you, but you did wonder why you were still letting him affect you like this. And you were really wondered why he bothered saying those words to you, and especially why the hell he would kiss you right after.

You weren't a blackout drinker and it was easy to remember how it felt to have Peter kiss you, even if it was just for a few seconds. And it was nice. You hated that, you hated that you still wanted to be with him even though he was treating you like this.

It was obvious that you deserved better than that, and you knew it, too.

But that didn't mean you were gonna get over it so easily. You knew Peter was a nice guy but he clearly had a lot going on to where he was hurting you and that wasn't okay.

You jumped a little when your phone buzzed, your roommate grumbling something before turning over and going back to sleep. With a grimace you opened your messages and was shocked to see who decided to finally text you.

thanks for bringing me home

You frowned when you read Peter's text, barely having time to blink before he sent another one.

i'm sorry

He had apologized twice now, technically. You weren't sure if he was apologizing for kissing you, or for you having to bring his drunk ass home, or everything that he's done in the past few months that has hurt you.

Either way, it wasn't enough to make you feel any better. If he was going to give you a sincere, actual apology, then maybe you would be able to accept it. And if he was going to explain himself with valid reasons for why he hurt you, you might even forgive him.

Might.

You put your phone back down and frowned, deciding to get ready for the day and make him wait a little for you to respond. Like you even knew what you were gonna respond with anyway.

Your roommate got up too and muttered something about how annoying your phone sounds were and how she couldn't wait to go home tonight, before grabbing her bag and rushing out the door. You were a little happy that she had left and decided to reply to Peter's text before jumping in the shower.

You sent the text quickly and grabbed your hairbrush, yanking it through your hair while glancing at your phone a few times.

If he replied, you would be pretty surprised. You didn't have any clue what he would possibly say, since your text was pretty straight forward and not really something to continue a conversation on. Part of you hoped he would send something back anyway, but you quickly scolded yourself for thinking that.

It was past time to get over that stupid boy and your hopes that he might come around and change. If he did then whatever, you weren't going to sit around and wait for him.

With a sigh you shoved your phone away, grabbing your books and deciding to put some time to finishing your work before the weekend. The weather was great and you wanted to get out and take some pictures, maybe even dragging Harry along, but you didn't want to do that until you finished your work for your classes.

It seemed like it was going to be a long day.

-

"There's strange activity a few blocks away according to police comms," Karen said through the mask, "Go right."

"Thanks," Peter sighed through his nose, shooting a web in the right direction and moving with it, trying to go faster.

The day had been boring, he could barely remember much of what he did. He drank a ton of water as MJ suggested, still feeling shitty as he did his rounds. After a while he just went back to his apartment to take a nap and decided to do a late night patrol later on, so here he was.

When he got to the scene he tensed, noticing it was a bunch of men arguing - a large duffle was in the middle, making him more alert.

He hated coming across drug deals - they hit a little too close to home.

"Shut up or you're gonna attract unwanted attention!" One of the guys yelled, making Peter roll his eyes.

He observed the scene, noticing several men surrounding the bag and waving their arms around while arguing. A couple people stood some feet back from the two main guys arguing, but he noticed only the two had guns on their hips. The rest seemed unarmed, or they had knives tucked away and hidden. Easy enough.

He jumped down in the middle, making several of the guys jump back in surprise. He quickly disarmed the two main guys and shot webs on their hands before turning to the rest.

"Hey guys," he said, crossing his arms, "Oh sorry, am I interrupting?"

"Get out of here, or she gets it," one of them said angrily, yanking out and pointing a gun at someone he didn't notice before, a few feet behind most of them.

Peter froze when he realized it was you.

"Y/N?" He whispered, taking a few slow steps forward.

What the hell were you doing here? You were just standing there with a scared look on your face, shaking your head at him. Something wasn't right but he didn't have time to figure out why.

"Watch it, Spidey," the guy threatened, holding the gun up to you again while you shut your eyes. "Actually, this shit isn't worth it."

"Hey don't, don't shoot her," Peter struggled to say, feeling like he was speaking through jello, but the guy raised his gun with intent this time. "Don't!"

It felt like a repeat of when he saw Ben die and when Tony was killed and when he watched her get shot. He couldn't move fast enough and suddenly a shot rang out and you crumpled to the ground while the shooter and his men ran off.

"No no no," Peter scrambled forward and dropped to his knees next to you, "No, you're fine, Y/N you're fine."

"It's okay," you said quietly, your eyes not quite focusing on him as you coughed, and Peter felt sick seeing some blood trickle out of your mouth. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry, I can-we can go to the hospital," he insisted, going to put his arms underneath you and pick you up but you winced, weakly shoving his arms away. "Y/N, please, you can't-you can't do this."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, and Peter felt panic as you shut your eyes.

"No, don't-don't shut your eyes, come on," he freaked out, gripping your arms and shaking you a bit, but you didn't move. "Y/N, don't do this to me, I can't-"

He jolted up and found himself stuck to the ceiling, his blanket falling off of him and back to the bed below. He was in his room, in his pajamas, covered in sweat and his chest feeling tight with anxiety. He never went back to patrol because he didn't wake up from the nap he decided to take.

It was a dream.

His body relaxed a little and he fell back to the bed, trying to focus his on breathing. Nightmares weren't a new thing to him. He'd had them ever since Ben died and even more so since she died, he was used to calming himself down.

But not this time. Something felt different, and he wasn't sure if the reason was because it was his first nightmare about you dying, or the fact that the hair on the back of his arms and neck was still standing up straight, like something might actually be wrong.

He flopped his head over to look at the clock, seeing that it was nearly two in the morning. There was no reason you'd be out this late, much less at a drug deal. That was just ridiculous, he should have realized he was dreaming when it happened.

But it felt so real.

Without hesitating he got back up and rushed to grab his suit, deciding he couldn't wait and see if the anxiety would go away.

-

You bit your lip a little as you stared at the equation in front of you, not exactly sure how to proceed. The subject your teacher was going through this week was difficult and you weren't sure if you were doing it right.

It was nearly two in the morning and you were determined to get it finished before the weekend, so you didn't mind staying awake agonizing over it, even though you were exhausted.

Your phone was a foot away from you, and you almost contemplated grabbing it to text someone in your class for help, or even Peter, despite the late hour. But a loud bang made you jump and drop your pencil, whipping around.

The window shuddered a little as you stared at it wide eyed, seeing Spider-Man perched on the ledge with a hand up on the glass, the eyes of his mask squinted. After a second he reached a hand up and yanked the mask off, showing Peter's bright red face and even worse, tears brimming in his eyes.

You got up without hesitation and went to the window, yanking it open.

"Peter?" You hissed out in confusion as he climbed in, really glad that your roommate had gone home for the night.

He pulled you into a hug, and you could feel his body shaking from how tight he was holding you. You wrapped an arm around his waist and the other went up to his hair, eyebrows knit in confusion as you hugged him back.

"Hey, what - what happened, are you okay? Are you hurt?" There was no panic in your voice, no anger or questions about him being Spider-Man, no shock or surprise. Just concern.

Was he really surprised that you already knew he was Spider-Man?

"You're okay," his voice cracked as he said it, making you a little more confused as he held you closer to him, burying his face in your neck.

"Yeah, I'm-I'm fine," you confirmed, knitting your eyebrows, "Why wouldn't I be?"

You tensed a little when he brought his head up and looked you in the face, like he was looking to see if you were really there.

"I had a dream," he said carefully, like he was almost trying to convince himself that it was a dream. You were looking at him like he was a crazy person but he didn't care, he just held your face in his hands, finally relaxing now that he could see you were okay.

"Okay?" You replied, still sounding concerned. "Um, do you-want to talk about it or..? What's going on?"

Instead of responding he put his forehead to yours, shutting his eyes and trying to make his heart rate go down a little. You were here, you were fine, you were alive - that should be enough for him to calm down.

Peter really should have been given an idiot of the year award.

He wasn't sure if it was because he was so relieved you were okay, or because you looked adorable in your pajamas with messed up hair and tired eyes, or because the moment felt way more intimate to him than it probably actually was. But either way he made yet another stupid decision and closed the gap between your lips.

You weren't as caught of guard this time - for one you were sober and for another you saw him look at your lips and had an idea of what he was about to do next. But you didn't bother stopping him, even though you probably should have.

This was a lot different from the first kiss. You weren't drunk so it wasn't as messy but it was a little more desperate, and you could feel it in how tight he gripped you to him, like he was trying to get as close as possible.

It was almost like you were letting yourself forget every shitty thing he had done while your lips moved together, noses bumping a few times and one of his hands moving to your hair to bring you closer. But you were sober this time, and even though it felt nice, you knew that it wasn't right.

With a little hesitation, you put your hands on his shoulders and held him there while you moved back, not letting him follow your lips.

The only sound was both of you trying to catch your breath, Peter's hands still holding your face like he was afraid to let go while yours gripped his shoulders, though you weren't sure if it was to hold him back or because you just wanted to be touching him in some way.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, and you tried not to roll your eyes.

"I'm so confused," you said a little breathlessly, trying to resist the urge to lean into him again. Instead you stepped out his grip, not looking at the rejected look on his face as he let his hands fall to his sides.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, shutting his eyes and sighing through his nose. "I shouldn't have done that again, I just-"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," you agreed a little harshly, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes as you sat on your bed. "You can't just treat me like you have been and then show up saying you had some-some dream and then kiss me out of nowhere again and not explain anything."

"I'm scared, Y/N," his voice sounded so hurt, it made your anger fade a little at the pain in his voice. "I'm scared that as soon as I let you in, you'll leave."

"Peter..." your voice trailed off, his expression pained, "I didn't plan on leaving."

"Maybe not intentionally," his eyes were tinged red when he met your gaze, "I can't lose you like I lost her. I can't do it again."

You had no idea who he was talking about, but you always had a feeling Peter was hiding something from you, more like someone. The girl from the pictures on his wall.

With a sigh you patted the spot next to you and he sat down quickly, not leaving much space between you. You let him put his head on your shoulder and you brought a hand up to his hair, trying to calm him down a little. It seemed like he was on the verge of breaking down before he even came in your room, and you needed him to calm down if he was going to explain anything.

"You need to start being honest with me, Pete," you said softly, running your fingers through his hair and noticing how he closed his eyes and relaxed at your touch. "I want to know what's causing this or I can't let you drag me around. It's not fair to either of us."

It went silent for a moment while he gathered his thoughts, focusing on the feeling of your hands in his hair comforting him. He didn't deserve you and he knew that, but opening up was hard, even if it was to someone he knew would accept him.

"How long have you known I was Spider-Man?" He asked after a second, and you were a little annoyed that he ignored what you just said, but you decided to go along with it.

"Since you saved me that day I was being stupid," you moved your fingers over the little spider emblem on his chest, pretending you didn't notice him shudder a little at your touch. "You have a pretty distinguishable voice, Parker."

His lips lifted a little at that, "You really knew that whole time and didn't say anything?"

"I can keep my mouth shut sometimes," you said in a defensive tone while he shook his head, "And honestly I was worried it would scare you off if you knew that I knew. It didn't really matter in the end though, did it?"

He frowned at that, his hand moving up and catching yours, holding it against him. "I don't want to scare you off, either. Which is why I've been so closed off."

"You can trust me, Peter," you promised, squeezing his hand.

"I know I can," he chuckled a little, but his smile dropped quickly. "I'm just scared."

"Tell me why, then."

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your messy bun and tired eyes and slightly chapped lips. Lips that he had kissed when he probably shouldn't have, or at least should have asked before doing, but he couldn't change that now. But he could change his problem of keeping things under a tight lid, and just open up for once.

Your thumb brushed over the back of his hand and he relaxed, knowing that he needed to talk about it. For both of your sakes.

"My parents died when I was really young, I don't-I don't really remember them much," he licked his lips, trying to ignore the feeling of you watching him while he spoke. "May and my uncle Ben raised me, but about a week after I got these powers, Ben was killed. And for a really long time I blamed myself for it, I still kind of do, but...it had gotten easier.

"And then it was better for a while, I had Tony and he was a great mentor, but then..." Peter clenched his jaw a little, and you took his hand in yours to encourage him to go on. "I only got through it because of May and...and her."

"Her?" You asked softly, drawing circles on the back of his hand to relax him a little.

"I never felt that way about anyone," he said quietly, his eyes squeezing shut, "I never thought losing someone could hurt more but I was right there and she died right in front of me and I didn't do anything-"

"Hey," you cut him off, knowing him rambling on was just going to make it worse, "Peter."

"I let it happen-"

"It wasn't your fault," you said firmly, not having any idea of the situation but still knowing it was true. He started shaking his head but you put your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault."

"You don't know-"

"I know you, Peter Parker," you ran your thumb over his cheeks, catching some of the tears starting to fall from his eyes. "I know you and I know it wasn't your fault."

He shut his eyes again and leaned forward, his head on your shoulder as he choked out a sob, making your heart ache. You hugged him to you, finally starting to understand why he did all of that. This was the first time he ever really opened up to you and now you were getting why it took so long.

"It's okay," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair while his arms snaked around your waist and held you tighter. "Peter, it's okay."

"I never felt that way about anyone," he repeated in a teary voice, his breath warm against your neck. "Not until I met you."

Him admitting how he felt about you made your heart skip a beat, but the sniffling sound he was making made it clear he was still hurting and you didn't think this was the right time for that conversation.

"We don't have to talk about that right now," you ran your fingers through his hair, biting your lip.

"We should," he replied, pulling back so he could look you in the eyes. This time he put his hand on your cheek, holding you as gently as he had that night when he was wasted. "It was so hard to do that to you and I shouldn't have. I should have given you an explanation instead of running like a coward. And I should not have kissed you when I was drunk or even just now when you still didn't know everything and...I'm sorry, I'm just so sorry."

"Peter, I know you know how I feel about you," you admitted, his eyes tightening a bit at your words, "I'm sorry that you went through losing people that close to you, and I understand why you would be scared to be close with someone again. You're right, you shouldn't have done that to me, not like that. But you were scared and I understand that, so...I forgive you, okay?"

"Just like that?" He asked quietly.

"You might need to work for it a little," you bit your lip to keep from smiling, and the look on his face told you he got that you were teasing.

"I can do that," he promised, bringing his forehead to yours. "Is it alright if I kiss you?"

"Now you ask?" You teased again, but he didn't reply this time, instead bringing his lips to yours for the third time.

It was a lot softer than the last two times. His hand had travelled to hold your waist and the other went to the back of your neck, snaking up toward your hair. And you held his face in your hands, trying not to smile as he moved his lips against yours.

You pulled away only to push him on his back, making him laugh while you went over him and muffled his chuckles with another kiss. He brought both hands to your waist and pulled you closer against him, humming against your mouth while you ran your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than usual from the mask.

"Are these Avengers themed bedsheets?" Peter mumbled against your lips, making you sigh and pull back.

"Mood killer," you accused, hands on his chest while you caught your breath. He just grinned and moved his hands from your waist to grab yours, holding one against his chest before bringing the other to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

You knew deep down that this boy was a romantic.

"That's how I thought kissing you the first time would have been like, not when I was drunk and fucked up," he breathed out, making you smile a little. "I'm sorry for messing it up."

"You didn't mess anything up," you pushed his hair back, taking in his slightly happier expression. "And you've thought about kissing me before?"

The blush rising across his cheeks made your little jab worth it, and he just rolled his eyes and brought his lips to yours again, fighting the urge to smile.

"Maybe a couple times."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker reader insert #spider-man x reader #spider-man fic #spiderman x reader #peterpparkerwrites masterlist #my writing

[stusbunker]

Believed: Brave and Complicit

The final part of a Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini-series

Featuring: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: She lets go, Dean catches her.

Warnings: Insecure reader, Dean is on his knees again, Dean’s a glutton, Cunnilingus, Analingus, Squirting, multiple orgasms because who could deny Dean the things he wants to give, sexual medical aids, and Sam being a sarcastic ass.

Word Count: 3874

Series Masterlist

Massive shout out to MJ @thoughtslikeaminefield for all her help with this mini-series. Definitively wouldn’t have finished it without your support.

Thank you to @rockhoochie for her cheerleading.

    I start testing the waters. Touching him when Sam can see, a brush of his hair when I climb into the backseat. A kiss on the cheek goodnight. Pushing him to complain, or reciprocate. Anything so I know where we really stand. He’s been giving me time and it’s gone on long enough now that I’m worried all over again. 

    Or just finding new reasons to stall.

    He’s been wearing the fed suit all day, but I can still smell his aftershave as we trek back into the motel room. The once careful knot in his tie is loose as he settles in at the small table with his laptop; I can’t help but watch him. Sam’s getting dinner. I kick off my heels and try not to get comfortable with how alone we are.

    “Beer?” 

I pause as he asks and shake my head clear. “Uh, sure? Might as well.”

He pops the cap off one bottle and hands it to me on our bed. Because we haven’t really rotated since that last hunt. Dean opens his own and takes a sip, licking his lips on the way in. He just exists being that hot, and me and the rest of the male attracted populace have to survive through it. It’s really not fair.

“Everything okay?” he asks, nodding at the untouched drink in my hands.

I take a quick drink to stop him worrying and spill half of it down my chin. I wipe it up, laughing, because it’s funny and then giggle some more because Dean was trying not to. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Dean starts, watching his own hands as he sets his beer down before stepping closer.

“Oh no, not that,” I tease.

“That we haven’t really kissed. I mean, usually, that’s like step one, right?”

My brain drops every thought and ounce of blood into the pit of my stomach, then they sink lower. “Step one?”

Dean looks at me, bites his bottom lip and shrugs. “I mean, I’ve been inside you. We sleep together. It’s almost like everything about us is backwards.”

I want to take that last part personally, but he doesn’t mean it that way. I’ve been working on letting myself hear the good before I cling to the bad. I want to believe he wants me. I’m at the point of needing him to. “Are you asking me to kiss you, Dean? Or are you asking to kiss me?”

He considers my words, and me, then kneels between my legs while I stop breathing. Dean’s on the floor, and me sitting gives me the height advantage. I spread my legs as wide as the sides of my skirt allow, welcoming him in. “I’m asking if you want to kiss me.”

What his words don’t say, his eyes do. They’re steady and hopeful and goddamn gorgeous. I grab his stupid face, feel the slight whisper of his five o’clock shadow against each of my palms. “Yeah?” I return his silent questions and ask my own.

“Y/N?” Dean starts. “C’mon, I’m on my knees here.”

I put us both out of our misery. I kiss him. Slowly, I start to relax, letting my lips soften, sucking in the fat perch of his bottom lip. Give him mine in return. He breathes through it, his hands hold my wrists in place, keeping us locked together. Then, he deepens the kiss, making me writhe with the first stroke of his tongue. 

We break apart because Sam’s back, the lock was a split second warning. But Dean doesn’t get up. Gasping, he holds my neck and whispers into my ear, “yeah.”

Sam gives us both withering looks as he wanders to the table and begins unpacking the food containers. Poor guy, he’s had to put up with us this whole time. Dean grunts as he stands, kisses the side of my head and offers his brother a beer.

        We got in after midnight and I’ve been laying in the dark of my room trying to remember how I ever slept without Dean. It was a five night case and my body seems to have forgotten how to occupy my own bed in that short time. It’s cold and big and I know what I want. Frustrated, I tug my shirt down and slide into my slippers. 

    I tell myself this isn’t asking too much.

    The halls are quiet and I shuffle my feet, trying to feel casual. And not absolutely terrified. Because I know what this means, what I’m actually doing and I don’t want the guilt to set in. Don’t want my logical brain to win. This time I just want the impossibility that is being with Dean, not as an emergency or as a convenience, but as someone he knows and sees and wants all the same. 

    I’m giving this to myself and trying to believe I’m not taking something from him he doesn’t want to give.

    His door is closed, but not locked. I don’t knock and shut the door behind me as quietly as I can. I let my eyes adjust and I see him lying there, stretched out onto one side. 

    “Can’t sleep either, huh?” He asks me without moving, knowing I’ll find my way to him now. I kick off my slippers and tug back the blankets.

    “Sleep is overrated,” I grumble, crawling beside him, feeling the mattress shift beneath me in slow motion, unlike the battered one at the motel. He holds out his arm and I rest in the cradle of his chest and his bicep. He smells my hair, leaves a kiss and pulls me tighter all in a moment’s passing. Caring is so natural for him, he does it without overthinking it at all.

    I look up at him and smile because, of course, he catches me staring.

    “You know I kinda expected you about an hour ago. Bed’s too big without you.”

    I breathe him in. “Agreed. Sorry I’m late.” I kiss him quick. 

    “It’s not a problem. Especially if I get you without Sam in the room.” The mischief in his voice isn’t joking, it’s a promise. He nudges my head to kiss my jaw, my throat and back up to my ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

    My eyes shoot up, unable to hide the shock nor delight from my face. “Oh, really?”

    Dean rolls his eyes, not that I can really see it, but he does it with his whole upper body making it obvious. “Yes, really. I mean, you might have been in a little less clothing when I imagined you coming to find me. But I’m not complaining.”

    “Well, good thing that’s an easy problem to fix,” I challenge, slipping my hand under his shirt and feeling him recoil from the sudden contact. He chuckles at his own ticklishness and rolls so he’s above me. I continue my exploration of his skin, letting my fingers roam underneath the smooth cotton as Dean watches me. His eyes darken as I graze a nipple and I pinch the other one before wiggling lower to press against the meat of his thigh.

    “Somebody’s awfully frisky tonight,” Dean points out before he leans back to drag off his shirt. His hands land on my hips, thumbs rolling the hem of my sleep shirt back and forth.

    “Yeah, I---- might---- have been thinking about you too,” I eke out, trying not to feel silly over admitting my own desire. 

    “Really?” Dean has the nerve to look impressed and fucking smug. It’s my turn to roll my eyes. I inch up onto my elbows and start to take off my own shirt, but then Dean’s catching up. He does so well, barely stares at my tits before he’s kissing me filthy with tongue and teeth and raw all-consuming hunger.

    I squirm beneath him, rubbing myself against his thigh and matching his kiss with my own want, need.

    He moans into my mouth, taking my hand out of his hair, twisting it down over the hard press of his cock against his pajama bottoms. I cup him and start to rub him through the fabric, mesmerized by the feel of him against me.

    Dean grunts, and rolls his hips, driving into my palm. “God, you feel so good.”

    He falls against me, careful to hold himself up, all while dragging his lips down. I shiver, cupping his neck as he goes after my tits. His lips are rough and soft at the same time and I cry out as he sucks hard on my nipple. I buck against him, but his massive torso is pinning my pelvis down and I can’t argue with a second of it.

 “Gonna let me taste you this time, huh? Been dying to get my mouth on you, see if you taste as good as you smell,” Dean’s plotting and I can’t barely think in words.

“Dean, fuck! Yeah?”

He grins up at me, knowing and proud. “Oh, yeah.”

I moan as he sinks lower, getting those wide shoulders between my thighs. He kisses me over my panties, tongue adding to the wet patch we’ve made. He tugs at the seams lining my thighs, hooking his fingers behind the lace, teasing me with the fabric, the brush of his knuckles, the heat of his mouth. 

“Okay, let’s get these off of you,” Dean offers, propping my hips up and helping me out of the last of my clothing. “That’s it. Fuck, I’m a lucky guy. Gonna make you feel so good, you ready?”

I nod and whimper simultaneously. Which just makes Dean slow down. He licks those pretty pink lips before blowing a quelling stripe of air against my sloppy cunt.

“Fucker,” I mutter, slipping my fingers in his hair.

“You love it,” Dean replies and gently kisses the top of my mound. “Now, relax. I’ve got work to do.”

He winks. Fucking winks.

And that isn’t even the worst part, because then, Dean starts tonguing me open. He settles in, hands gripping my thighs as he sucks my clit and licks it clean. I quickly realize that I must have died somewhere along the way, because heaven is the only explanation for any of this. But Dean just keeps going and I can’t help but tell him all about it.

“Baby, God, just like that, holy fuuuuuh----.”

He hums and adds his fingers into the mix, drags the rough pads over the in between of my center and my ass, making me squeal.

“Dirty girl, you like that?” Christ, his voice alone.

I can only moan, and then he sinks lower and starts tracing figure 8s with his tongue. Everything tightens and I can feel myself dripping into the cleft of my ass. I shudder from the pooling emptiness and then Dean reaches up and finds my nipple. Feather light, he mimics the circles he’s back to lapping against my clit. My orgasm ricochets through my core, throbbing and hot. It’s seismic and pulsing and Dean never stops eating me. 

I clench and thrash and he slurps it all up, unwavering.

I shudder in the sensitivity and Dean hums, sending vibrations zinging from my cunt to my tits and back again. I start to whimper, try to tug him back to me by the ears, but he just watches me as he continues with a darkening desire in his eyes I’ve only caught glimpses of in bakeries and diners.

“Hungry boy, I’ve already come,” I coo at him, scratching his scalp.

“Oh, there’s more where that came from. Now, shhh, I’m busy,” he actually shushes me, the harsh tickle makes me twitch. 

“You could at least share?” I pout, missing him against me and needing a reprieve from all the sensation.

“You want a taste?” The t’s are hostile, but Dean doesn’t disappoint. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, dragging his heavy length against me. I welcome my personal flavor mixed with Dean’s crisp breath. “So good, in’it?”

“Just because it’s for you,” I explain.

“Nah, that’s all you, doll. You gonna let me keep going?” He cocks his head, gives me a coy smirk, and puppy dog eyes I only thought his brother used.

I throw my head back against the pillows in defeat. “Fine! But if I am too useless for anything else, it’s not my fault. Rubber legs and all.”

Dean cackles in victory. “That’s my girl, let me get my dessert and then we’ll see about those rubber legs.”

He spends another twenty minutes eating me out, tongue fucking my ass and nearly blinding himself as I come hard, hot and wet. Tears of pleasure prickle the corner of my eyes as I clamp his head between my legs, refusing to let him continue. At long last, Dean slides off his sleep pants, freeing his cock for my hands and eyes to finally take in fully.

“Damn,” I husk out, feeling him harden fuller. He raises his eyebrow at me and I huff, “what?! It’s not like I’ve seen it. Might’ve felt it, but, yeah----.”

“Condom?” Dean asks.

“Please and thank you,” I sing-song.

“Of course.” Dean kisses my shoulder and crawls to search through his nightstand. He tosses a spare foil square next to the lamp before opening the package with his teeth. I reach down and hold him at the base as he works the condom down his length. 

“Thanks,” he breathes out, eyes closing lightly as I return to stroking him.

I lean in and lick the sweat on his neck, nipping his jaw at the end. Dean growls and cages me in, towering over me on all fours. I giggle and release his cock, slide up his body to kiss him. Then he’s maneuvering us up the bed, dropping me into a sitting position on the pillows.

    “Alright, you okay up there?” Dean asks, kneeing his way back between my thighs. He ducks his chin and waits for me to answer with a lazy grin. He kisses me around a matching smile and drags my wrists up and sets my hands on the ledge behind his headboard. His hands run down my sides. I roll my neck and try to keep still.

    Dean slips his hand behind my head and kisses me as he lines himself up. He’s cool to the touch, my overheated flesh prickles at the sticky slide of him up and inside of me. He groans and grinds, his head drops to my shoulder and we stay a minute, joined.

    He leans back and watches me as he pulls out and then stuffs me full so fast I lose the air in my lungs. Such a shit and he knows it too. I arch my back and hold on to the stone ledge as best I can as Dean starts to fuck me slow and deep. 

    I’m practically purring as Dean starts to suck on the skin below my ear, still cradling my head in the palm of his hand. I snap my hips down as he slides in, making him moan in the back of his throat. It’s the best high, giving him back a fraction of pleasure he’s given me. 

“You feel so good, hot as hell like this,” he whispers. “I almost came in my pants when you squirted---- the things you do to me.”

    I clench from his praise, holding him to me, I mouth up his jaw. “Well, now you can, big guy.”

He growls and increases his speed, bracing himself against the headboard behind my back. My tits bounce against his face, like he’d planned this. And I can’t help rolling my eyes at his face, so serious but also nearly as wrecked as I feel. He grunts and sucks marks on the crest of each breast, railing me like he didn’t drive seven hours home. Like it’s not nearly three in the morning. Like he’s not fucking forty. I gasp as I realize what’s going on.

“You took the boner pills, you little shit!”

“Call it wishful thinking,” Dean explains, slowing down to watch himself disappear inside my pussy. “God, I needed this. Needed you.”

I whimper as he thumbs my clit. “You’ve got me.”

Dean hears everything I mean with those words and he crashes against me in the dirtiest of kisses. He lets me down and takes me from behind until I can no longer push back. With merciful triumph, he smacks my ass when he’s finally close. His fingers dig into my hips, pinning me in place. Dean buries himself as deep as he can and comes spewing the hottest nonsense, “fuck yeah---- like that---- that’s it, doll. Fucking Christ, you take me so good.”

I reach behind me and hold his neck, unwilling to let go, even as he softens inside of me. He brushes his lips over my shoulder and up my neck. He’s emphatically there, solid, sturdy and real. 

It’s everything. 

Slowly we unwrap ourselves from each other’s body. He’s hard again by the time he tosses the condom, but he just tucks it against my ass and lets me sleep it all off. All the while stroking my arm or kissing my cheek, gently squeezing me in mutual reassurance.

    I haven’t slept in like this since moving into the bunker, fucking bodily functions getting the better of me even now. Dean’s spot is empty beside me, but not yet cold. I roll and groan, stretch until I can open my eyes long enough to find some clothes and a signature gray robe left behind the door.

This thing is so long it drags like a fucking train behind me. Which I know is gonna piss Dean off, sullying his clothes and all that.

I find him in the kitchen, humming as he fries some bacon, looking goddamn delicious. “Save some for me!”

He looks up and grins like the fucking sun. “You’re up! Was gonna try and surprise you with breakfast in bed.”

I stomp down the steps, looking suspicious. “Are you seriously being this schmoopy right now?”

He flusters and straightens. “What? No. That’s not, it’s not that big a deal. I mean, I was cooking for me, too.” He turns when I snake my arms around his waist and catches the tease in my eyes. “You know what? Fuck off. Teasing me for trying to treat my girl. You don’t get any now.”

I puff out my bottom lip in a mock pout and reach down to cup his clothed junk. “I guess I’ll find something else to satisfy me.”

He groans, lets his head fall back and for a few seconds all I can hear is the crackle of the grease and his breath.

Until a throat clear causes us to break apart. “Really guys, in the kitchen?!”

Dean swears under his breath and bends at the waist, poorly hiding his fresh erection. I giggle and sweep off to the coffeemaker, knowing I embarrassed him more than myself. Which, in itself, is a new concept.

“Sorry, Sam, I’ll be good in shared spaces,” I chirp, fixing myself a strong cup.

Sam looks from me to his brother and back to me. “Bullshit. It’s you I have to watch out for. Dean knows better. We’ve got rules, you just have yet to learn them.”

I spin with raised eyebrows. He’s serious. I look at Dean with his back to us now as he plates up the late breakfast.

“Okay, once this coffee kicks in, I’m all ears, but until then--- food,” I sit at the table and am struck dumb with a sudden realization. “Caffeine is a drug.”

They both huff a laugh. “Yeah, what’s your point?” Sam agrees, pouring his post run cup.

“Drugs take time to work,” I say, looking over my shoulder at Dean, who has been suspiciously quiet this whole time.

“Wow, Y/N, you’re really hitting some key points this morning,” Sam sasses. 

I know what I mean, but I need to know if Dean knows what I’m saying. I ignore Sam’s sarcasm and watch his brother carefully bring us our plates, with little to no eye contact my way.

He goes back to the stove for his coffee and sits across from me, since Sam scooted in for him out of habit. I don’t touch my food, even though it smells amazing, waiting until Dean finally meets my eye.

He looks almost sheepish about it. 

“The first time?” I ask, not getting more technical with Sam’s nosy face right there.

He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee, licks his lips after, like that helps the epiphany settle any easier.

Dean never needed Viagra to fuck me. He might have not even taken any for my curse at all, considering how short his finish was compared to last night.

I am a hot mess, burning from the glee and shame and still wearing his damn supersized robe. But God, do I smile then.

Dean rolls his eyes at me, pecks the air between us and starts in on his bacon.

Yeah, I’m definitely going to need to learn those rules, because Sam’s presence is the only thing keeping me from crawling over the table and straddling Dean’s lap. Bacon flavored kisses sound really good about now.

Letting Dean in isn’t always easy, but so far it’s been worth it. And something tells me that’s not going to change. Sure, sometimes he’s overprotective and I have to remind him who he’s dating, but that usually ends in the good kind of argument. Where we both win. 

    He’s driving, Sam’s got his ear buds in and I’m half asleep in the backseat. It’s almost like the past four months haven’t happened. But when we stop for lunch and a waitress gets a little too friendly, Dean lets me place our orders, silently amused at my little territorial display. The moment she heads back to the kitchen, Sam rolls his eyes at both of us. 

    That’s our dynamic now. Sam, still as exasperated with us as before, but for entirely different reasons. 

    Dean makes a point of grabbing my ass on the way out of the diner and I do nothing to stop him. The hunt is over and we’re back home before we have the chance to get too annoyed with sharing the room and remaining kosher for Sam’s sake. So much progress.

    I still get bouts of insecurity, still catch the confused stares of other women when they look at me and Dean. Knowing I’d judge the appearance disparity between us if I was outside looking in. But I know he chose me and I know that he’d fight Heaven and Hell for me. Which is pretty remarkable and not something I take lightly. I work everyday to be the woman he sees me as and he works everyday to remind me he loves me, warts and all.

    Some things don’t make sense when you can only see the dust jacket. But reading the book will give you a better idea. As for Dean and me, we’re still in the opening chapters. And I’m perfectly okay with that.

Hell, I’d even save us for a reread.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008 @wingedcatninja @smi727 @crashdevlin @flamencodiva​ @itmighthavebeenintentional @there-must-be-a-lock @lastactiontricia  @hoboal87 @maliburenee  @wingedcatninja​​ @thestoryofmylife9  @jazzcrackers​​ @divadinag​​ @thoughts-and-funnies @niiight-dreamerrrr​​ @akshi8278​  @deanwanddamons​

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean smut #dean fluff #dean angst

[spideythot]

Happy Spooky Season! 🎃👻💀🎃

I wrote this on vacation, which is really when I get the majority of my writing done. Please enjoy.

Warnings: NFF, Demon!Tony, religious elements, slight mind control/manipulation

The Haunt

Peter hated haunted houses. He hated running through them, the confined space, the jump scares... and he always managed to get separated from his friends. This place was massive - an attraction in an abandoned church called Hell House. They lost Flash and Bette early on. But then Ned and MJ abandoned him completely when they were running through a section being chased by a guy with a chainsaw. Peter must’ve taken a wrong turn then too, because he hasn’t seen anyone...

No monsters, no other patrons. But he can hear people screaming. The hallway he’s wandering, very carefully, it’s lit by candles, but has no real decorations. He’s scared to call for help - What if someone’s waiting for him to speak so they can scare him? Peter stayed against the wall, still following the hall. There’s a door at the end, it’s got to be an exit. Peter focused on the door and his steps picked up. Soon he was turning the handle, pushing.

Locked. No. It can’t be. Peter turned the handle again and pulled. The door didn’t budge. Peter banged on the door with his fist. “Come on,” he pleaded. “I just want to go home!”

Suddenly the lock clicked and the door opened slightly, creaking on its hinges. Peter stepped back, startled. A man appeared behind the open door, wearing priest robes and looking confused. He must be part of the performers crew, Peter thought. Maybe this was a break room or something.

“H-hey...” he said, “I lost my friends. I wanna go home....” He blushed a little, embarrassed to be a scared little kid in front of this man.

The priest looked him over, his dark his considering. “Come in,” he finally said. “I can help you.”

Peter kept his eyes on the floor as he stepped into the room. “Thanks...” he said. “I know it’s kind of dumb to be scared of these things. It’s not real.”

“Fear is very real,” the priest said. He smiled at Peter though, warm and welcoming. He was older... usually scare performers were young adults... but this guy had gray in his hair. He was also attractive; maybe he wasn’t in any makeup yet.

Peter looked around them, trying to distract himself. This room was also lit by candles, and looked more like a church than dressing room. “Is... is this part of the haunted house?” He asked. There were pews, and an altar. Except... it wasn’t a Christian altar. The cross had been tipped upside down and strange, blood red patterns were everywhere.

“Haunted house?” The priest asked. “No, no... this is... something else. Come, sit. I’ll get you something to drink.” The man moved across the room to a curtain. “My name is Father Tony Stark,” he said as Peter stared rooted to his spot.

Maybe this was an unopened part of the haunt. People could get private shows here apparently. Father Stark brought Peter a small glass of water. “What’s your name?”

“Peter,” the boy replied. He sipped at the water, not really thirsty. He still just wanted to leave.

Tony nodded. “I’m sorry that you’ve had such a scare tonight Peter,” the man said. He put an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Don’t worry though. It’s almost over.”

He led Peter toward the altar.

“Is there an exit here?” Peter asked a little confused. The candles seemed to burn brighter as they approached.

“Mmhm,” Father Stark said. “Of sorts.”

Peter looked at the man, hesitant to take another step. Tony gave the boy another warm smile and Peter felt his head spin a little. Were priests supposed to be so handsome? Peter stumbled a little, feeling faint. “Oh...”

Tony caught him, a steady arm around his waist. “Are you feeling well?” He asked. He took Peter’s barely touched water glass before the boy could drop it.

“I’m... dizzy,” Peter said. “Just all of a sudden.”

“Come, sit,” the priest said. He guided Peter forward toward the altar again. Peter stared down at the floor - it was glowing... had there always been a pattern carved into it?

Peter stopped his feet again, feeling Tony pressed firmly to his back. “You’re so close,” he whispered. “Keep going.”

“I-I can’t...” Peter replied. “This isn’t...”

“You will,” the priest’s voice deepened. “You came to me by no accident.”

Peter’s head spun more and his feet moved on their own. He stepped into the ritual circle. The words, “Good boy,” bolted through him and Peter nearly fell to the floor. But Tony lifted the boy into his arms and laid him across the altar surface. Peter shook his head, trying to clear the fog. He looked over at Tony, who stood next to him. The man’s eyes were glowing red. “Please...” Peter whimpered.

“Hush,” Tony said. He leaned forward and kissed Peter. Heat shot through the boy; he’d never been kissed like this before. “You will be obedient,” Tony said. “You’re already craving my touch.”

Peter nodded, his body still aflame. He squeezed his thighs together, trying to create some friction between them.

“Good,” Tony said. He cupped Peter’s cheek. “Now, Peter...”

His name on the demons tongue caught his full attention. Peter’s eyes snapped to the red glow of Tony’s. “Don’t move.” Tony held up a wickedly jagged knife. He cut through Peter’s clothing, exposing him fully.

Peter blushed and attempted to cover his hard-on. But Tony easily caught both of his wrists. He raised them above Peter’s head. “Stay,” he ordered. And Peter was locked in place.

“Spread your legs.” The boy obeyed.

“F-Father Stark...” Peter whined.

“Patience,” the man replied. “Sacrificing your virginity is a delicate process, pet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Peter nodded, though he didn’t fully understand what Tony had said. He raised his hips a little, his body on fire. “T-touch me,” he begged.

Tony chuckled. “You’re such a perfect gift.” He stepped between Peter’s legs, his robes seemingly melting away. He lowered himself between the boy’s thighs and dragged his tongue over them. Peter watched, fascinated by the long, forked organ slithering so near to his length and hole.

Tony’s tongue eventually pressed into Peter’s hole, sending the boy arching his back and keening. The demon priest worked him open, thrusting his tongue in and out Peter. He watched the boy’s reaction carefully. Peter squirmed, Though he was still locked in place by invisible bonds. He panted heavily, moaning and whimpering. He could feel it deep inside of his body, hot and exploring him thoroughly.

Then the tongue was withdrawn, leaving him empty. “N-no...” Peter managed. He stared at Tony, confused, wounded.

The demon only grinned. He pressed his own cock to Peter’s swollen, pink little hole. “Don’t fear,” he said. “I’m going to ruin you thoroughly.”

Tony thrust his hips forward, the head of his dick forcing its way inside the boy. Peter gasped, his toes curling. It was huge, but he felt no pain. Only fire, searing pleasure. His arms flexed as he tried to break free from his restraints again.

Tony’s cock sank deeper into Peter, forcing more delicious moans out of the boy.

Peter thrashed as the demon bottomed out. He was so incredibly full, he could feel every inch of the man inside. Then the demon began to move, snapping his hips hard and relentless against Peter. His legs locked around Tony’s waist. “Good boy,” the man praised. “You’re mine now.”

Peter gasped and nodded. He belonged to Tony, body and soul. Finally, Peter’s arms were released and he could hold himself against Tony’s body. He rolled his hips, earning a satisfied grunt from the man. They moved together, faster, Tony thrusting deeper. Peter couldn’t last. He was too full, too hot, too close to bursting. Tony kissed him again, demonic tongue slithering into his mouth. Peter saw stars as he came, groaning against the man’s lips and falling limp.

He clung to Tony. The demon continued to fuck him. He whined again, still feeling the heat. Peter knew his place though. It was clear. He was Tony’s, a doll, a toy for pleasure. So Peter held on, moving his hips to make them both feel good.

Peter came to outside the haunted house, his head clearing finally. He glanced around. He was standing at the entrance gate, fully clothed and only a little sore. Had he passed out? It wasn’t a dream... was it? “Pete!”

Peter glanced up at his name. Ned and MJ were coming out of the Haunt. “We’re Sorry,” Ned said, as he came up to Peter. “We lost you.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said. “I found my way out.”

“You didn’t get too scared, did you?” MJ asked, teasing him softly.

Peter shook his head. “No... one of the performers helped me... I think.”

His friends glanced at him as they made their way back to the parking lot. “Well, you missed a lot of good scares,” MJ said. “Too bad.”

Peter looked back to the haunted house, feeling an ache in his belly. He got a brief flash of memories. “Yeah...” he said softly. “You know, the pamphlet said that every night is a different scare...”

He stared up at the old stained glass window of the abandoned church, a red eyed figure stared back. He grinned. “Let’s just come back tomorrow night. I wanna do it again.”

#starker #peter x tony #nff #Halloween fic #au #demon!tony

[coolbeansbuddyofmine]

ooh maybe kavin x kaning and thyme x gorya and one of each or they’re all bickering abt who loves their SO more

e.g. thyme “our love story was mutual pining for like 5 months beat that” and kavins like “thank God least kaning and i didn’t waste that much time”

Oh god this was so fun I couldn’t resist especially after todays epsidoe!

best couple forever and ever

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37833241 read on ao3 here

After Kavin and Kaning get together, they have large group hangouts quite often. And sometimes, even Lita and Mira join in from their video screens. With all the mess and drama that makes up their life, such meet ups are actually therapeutic. 

For MJ, it’s a reminder of how far F4 has come. As privileged as it to say this, life hasn’t been entirely easy for them. And it’s nice to know their group has expanded beyond the circles they could imagine. 

It’s nice to have a large group of friends.

As much as he likes Kavin, Ren, and Thyme, it was easy to feel lonely in F4. And it’s why he fell for Iris in the first place. She offered him refuge and comfort in his loneliness, away from F4.

But now, even though she’s gone, he’s never lonely. Not anymore. He has someone.

He turns to look at Kavin, who’s sharing a loveseat with Kaning. He’s smiling and playing with the curls of her hair, as she leans into his chest, and Kavin’s smiling down at her, whispering some sweet nothings and pressing little kisses into her hair.

MJ resists the urge to gag: love has made a fool of Kavin, and a whipped boyfriend at that too.

On his other side, sit the, somehow worse than Kavin and Kaning, couple: Thyme and Gorya. Unlike their usual bickering, Gorya’s animatedly rambling to Lita and Mira, who listen attentively, (something about school; he’s not listening) and Thyme looks at his girlfriend with hearts in his eyes, as if she hung the sun, moon and stars.

MJ, once again, resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

Love has made true fools out of his friends. He has to rely on Ren on keeping him company in the singledom of wisdom and intelligence.

Although, the fondness in his eyes and affection in his smile as he smiles at Mira, who excitedly talks about her new law internship, is unmistakeable. Mira and her boyfriend had broken up a while back, and Ren, her best friend, reconciled her with then, comforting her. Ren doesn’t have any expectations, MJ knows, but the love he’s had for Mira for most of his life isn’t going go wholly go away anytime soon.

But, perhaps, second chances are better, MJ believes, as Mira’s wandering gaze searches and turns to Ren.

MJ is truly quite happy for him. After all he’s done for all of them, Ren deserves a happy ending with Mira. MJ is of the firm belief that they’re really endgame for each other, like the other couples of the F4 (the established ones; Ren and Mira is still in the works).

MJ sighs. Is he doomed to remain the single member of the F4 now?

Normally, he wouldn’t mind. But considering how lovelorn all his other best friends are, maybe he should look for other best friends.

Lita laughs, and he looks at his phone screen where she’s laughing loudly at him.

“Why are you laughing?’ MJ insists.

“At your pain. God, good luck with those lovesick fools!” She hollers, breaking into laughter once again.

Seeing her large grin, and loud voracious laughter, he can’t help but smile. He’s always had a certain fondness for Lita; her relentless energy, enthusiasm, and selflessness. He’s always felt an affinity towards her, and he shakes his head down fondly, looking at her.

“Don’t laugh at my pain!”

“I will! Sucks to be you,” she sticks her tongue out at him, still smiling.

“I had a thought,” Thyme suddenly announces, and they all turn to look at him, confused.

“While I’m happy that we’re all happy, there’s a fact we’re missing.”

“Which is?” Ren asks.

“Obviously, the main character love arc is over,” he says, as if it is something obvious.

Gorya looks at him strangely as well, “Main character love arc?”

Thyme smiles, and wraps one hand around her shoulders, “Yes, darling. We’re the main characters, and obviously our love story is the best.”

Kavin cuts him off, “Hold on, hold on, hold on. What do you mean your love story is the best?”

MJ bites his lip. God, he couldn’t pay anywhere else for this kind of entertainment. Ren and he share a conspiratorial grin.

Thyme frowns, “Well, it’s obvious. Enemies to lovers. We fought against many obstacles: her stubbornness, Ren, sorry,” he looks at Ren apologetically.

He laughs, waving it off, “It’s fine.”

“Then, Hana, Tesla, my mom, Talay, that little maid stint, Lita, sorry.”

“I’m over you!” Lita emphasizes, wagging her finger.

“Yes, yes. But, we’re obviously the it-couple, having gone through so many hurdles.”

Kavin frowns, “But you weren’t together for most of that!” 

“We were pining for each other!”

“That was because you wasted time for 5 months,” Kavin corrects.

Thyme frowns again, pouting like a kid, “Well, I’ve had more romance with Gorya than any of you!”

Kaning interjects, “Actually, I don’t think so. Kavin and I did a fake shtick the day we met. And then we had the whole 4000 baht moment. And we bumped into each other at the club. He saved me from falling in the flower shop, helped me out there and stayed after hours with me. Pretended to be my fake boyfriend and drove me around,” she lists off, counting on her fingers.

Gorya nods, “Yeah, Kaning told me about all of these. They have way more romance than us.”

“You’re supposed to support me, Gorya! I’m your boyfriend,” Thyme whines, lamenting his solo ordeal.

"I am?"

“Actually,” Ren adds, “I think Mira and I take the slice as childhood best friends to lovers.” He clinks his again with Kavin’s and takes a sip.

“But you wasted so much time,” MJ points out. 

“Almost 18 years.”

Lita chimes in, “That’s right. MJ and I were quicker than all of you losers. Ha!”

“We were?”

“You were?”

Confused noises ring in the room, and Lita laughs, “Yes. I proclaimed myself as his pregnant girlfriend, 2 weeks after i met him, and he began helping me learn of Thyme’s interests and then, I left and no longer liked Thyme, sorry, and we began our love interest arc in,” Lita turns, presumably to look at a calendar, “within 2 months of knowing each other.”

Kavin turns to him, “MJ, is this true?”

MJ splutters, “I didn’t know we were having a love interest arc?!”

“But you like me,” Lita adds.

“Yes, but⎯”

“No buts! Unless it’s yours. But it means you like me, I like you. There! Lovers arc,” she quickly explains.

“I suppose,” he admits, reluctantly.

She grins, victorious, “Exactly. So, all of you losers can suck it,” she blows raspberries, as Kavin and Thyme frown and grumble.

Kavin suddenly lights up.

“Kaning and I won something!”

Everyone turns to them, and even Kaning looks confused.

“What?” Thyme asks.

“First to get together in bed,” and Kaning presses her palm against his mouth muffling him, as she blushes crimson.

“Forgive him,” she speaks through gritted teeth as Kavin tries to weasel out of her grip, “he has no filter.”

#f4 thailand #my writing #f4 thailand boys over flowers #f4 thailand: boys over flowers #f4 kavin #f4 thailand fic #f4 mj #f4 ren #f4 thyme #f4 kaning #f4 gorya #f4 lita #f4 mira #kavin #kaning #mj #lita #ren #mira #thyme #gorya #kaning x kavin #kavin x kaning #thyme x gorya #gorya x thyme #mj x lita #lita x mj #ren x mira #mira x ren

[snowstark]

saw people in another fandom doing this & i wanted to do it too so here we go—

First Lines Tag Game

Rules: List the first lines of the last 10 fics/drabbles you published (or all your fics if you have less than 10). Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

[not including any co-written fics]

The window opened with a reluctant creak before cool air weaved its way into the dormitory. Peter exhaled, leaning on the windowsill to poke his head out. He wrapped his cloak around him tighter; it was cold tonight and the pyjamas he was wearing underneath it wasn’t exactly keeping him warm. A hoot and the flapping of wings sounded above him. Peter watched as two barn owls made their way out of the Owlery, most likely in search of a late night snack. The grounds were quiet today, with no students wandering around past curfew for once. — catch the stars [on my firebolt)

“Come on, baby, you’re on top.” The words were purred, velvety and smooth like a river flowing over weathered stones. Tony grinned at the resulting whimper, and squeezed Peter’s hips just enough to turn his skin white at his fingertips. “Show Daddy what you can do.” — playing human

Tony catches the boy trying to pick the lock when he makes his way down to the dungeon. The boy doesn’t notice him at first, so Tony takes his time to linger in the shadows. The boy is a scrawny mess; his hair is scruffy and disheveled like he’s been furiously swiping his hand through it for days, and his face is grimy—a stark contrast from his usual appearance. Which, of course, makes sense considering his current circumstances. — prince's flight

Peter is uncharacteristically trying to stay quiet. — tickle spot

Don’t worry about it,” is what Harry tells Peter when he finds Peter curled up in the corner of the King’s chambers. — set the throne on fire

Be careful, MJ had begged. Please be careful. — don't let the wolves hear

“Shit, should’a known you'd be usin’ him before we even got started properly,” Bucky swears when he enters the penthouse to the sight of Peter bouncing on Tony's dick like his life depends on it. — take a drag (and share my boy)

When Peter runs away, the Soldier is the one who drags him back to the tower, back to where the Superior is waiting, back to home, even though it’s the furthest thing from home that could exist. He’s gripping the scruff of Peter’s neck like he’s nothing but a troublemaking pup, and Peter feels every bit like one when he’s tossed at the Superior’s feet. The Superior is sitting on the couch. — a lick of mercy

“Nice shot, Pete!” — the best player (is always on his knees)

“What did you just say?” Tony gulped and stumbled back as Bucky advanced on him stealthily, eyes flashing at him. Oh, god. Abort mission. Abort mission. — catch you when you fall

i think i mostly start off with a paragraph of description or a short piece of dialogue to jump right into the story :]

tagging (with no pressure): @peterrparrkerr @vaguekiwi @sinditia @starkerscoop @thegreenmetblue @muse-of-gods @starker1975 @winterironspiderling @starkerhead @lemonpeter @professional-benaddict

#starker #nff #tag game

[toomanyrobins2]

Sugar

Summary: Moving to the small town of Lehigh was supposed to be a quiet escape. But, the local sheriff and his determination to drive you crazy turns your plans right on their head.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Content Warning: some swearing, annoying misunderstandings that would be fixed if people just communicated.

Notes: shoutout to @maysdigitalarts for the banner below!

You had just arrived in Lehigh the week before and had been busy moving into your new home on the outskirts. When you’d seen the little cottage, you knew that it was meant to be and used the money grandpa had left when he died to buy it. A few days after moving in the last of the boxes in, you wandered through the small town. The help wanted sign in the front of the diner made the job search easy and after a week working as a waitress, you’d settled into a comfortable rhythm. The other waitresses had been kind to her and now you considered Wanda and MJ to be friends. MJ and her boyfriend, Peter, had a young son and she had begged you to take the breakfast shift so that she could be home in the mornings. You had readily agreed, enjoying filling your days with work, and now it was your first morning shift.

You greeted Wanda as she pulled in and together you flipped on the lights and put on music to dance to as you started up the coffee machines and took down the chairs. It wasn’t long before people started coming in. Two men in uniform walked into the diner and sat in one of the booths in MJ’s usual section. You couldn’t stop the little voice in your head from appreciating how attractive they were, but you shut her down. You walked up to the table and plastered on a smile, “Morning, gentlemen. What can I getcha?”

The blonde looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t know you.”

Your internal voice snorted at the obvious statement and you nodded, “And I don’t know you. Now, what can I getcha?”

The dark-haired man did snort at the awkward interaction, “I will have a black coffee and whatever pie you have.”

“Does cherry work?” He nodded and you turned back to his friend, “And you, Officer Stranger?”

“That’s Sheriff Stranger—I mean Rogers—Sheriff Rogers.”

“Alright, Sheriff,” you decided to take pity on the awkward man, “What’ll it be?”

“Toast and black coffee.”

“Right away, Sheriff Stranger,” you flashed him a dazzling smile and went to put his order in.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head, “Well done, Punk. You made a great first impression on the pretty waitress.”

Steve groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, “Thanks, Buck. Appreciate it.”

“Get some coffee in you and try again. Maybe smile this time.”

After that first failed encounter, Steve had come to the diner every morning. For two weeks, he would come and sit in your section. You couldn’t help yourself and continued to call him Sheriff Stranger. It had evolved into a fond nickname, instead of a sarcastic quip. He had taken to sitting at the counter instead of the booths so that he could chat with you as you moved around. He had been surprised by how quick your mind was and it had become the habit for him to read the paper aloud, the two of you going back and forth about whatever the front page was reporting on.

That morning, just like every other morning, he put in his usual order of black coffee and toast. You threw your head back dramatically and groaned, “Stranger, you’re killing me. Variety is the spice of life. How about scrambled eggs? Home fries? A piece of fruit?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at your dramatics, “I like my toast and coffee, Sugar.”

“Fine!” You threw your hands in the air, “It’s your really boring funeral.” Steve chuckled under his breath as he looked back down at the paper. It didn’t take long for you to bring his plate over and when he put the paper down, he choked at the sight of what was on his plate. You meticulously had arranged a bacon smiley face with melon balls for eyes on top of his toast. You skipped away before he could say anything and he was left to stare at the ridiculous breakfast. Steve contemplated calling you over but dreaded seeing the disappointment in your eyes. Instead, he popped a melon ball in his mouth and when he looked up, you had a massive grin on your face. You purposefully avoided looking over, but both of you knew this was a victory for Y/N.

After that first day, you continued to sneak new things on his plate often. The day after, you brought him his usual coffee and toast, but also put a glass of orange juice down. You winked at him, said something about vitamin C, and walked away to help another customer.

The day after that, it was an omelet with peppers and cheese. Every few days, you would allow him a respite from the over-the-top breakfasts and would bring him toast and coffee, but always added an orange juice to the order, insisting he needed some fruit.

One day when you allowed him to order his boring breakfast, as you’d dubbed it, you pulled the paper away from him, “I have to ask. Is the toast and coffee an indication of the other meals you eat? Because if you’re boiling your chicken, we are gonna have a serious problem.” Steve looked ashamed and you gaped at him, “Oh sweet Jesus! You boil your chicken!” You propped your head up with one hand, “It is flavor? Do you just hate things that taste good?”

“I am busy helping to run this town. I don’t have a lot of time on my hands.”

You looked incredulous, but perked up when you saw someone walk through the door. Steve could see the gears whirring in your head and knew this was not going to be good for him. “Officer Bucky, sir!” you waved him over, “I have a question for you! Answer it right and your meal is on me.”

The dark-haired man looked confused, but figured it didn’t hurt to try his hand at a free meal, “Alright, hit me.”

“What did you make for dinner last night?”

“Ciorba de Perisoare. It’s my mother's recipe for meatball soup. One of Nat’s favorites.”

You grinned victoriously at Steve and tapped the counter where there was a seat available, “That answer gets you one of those potato and cheese omelettes I know you love. Oh, and a slice of cherry pie.” You came back out with Bucky’s delicious looking breakfast and Steve’s sad toast and black coffee. The latter rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, begging God to give him strength to deal with the stubborn young woman who had captured his interest.

“Any chance you can tell me why I’m eating for free?” Bucky asked.

“I boil my chicken,” Steve grumbled.

“What?”

“You’re eating for free because I boil chicken.” Bucky just stared at Steve in disgust and confusion before turning back to his breakfast, shaking his head at the two clueless idiots.

It had been almost three months since you had moved to Lehigh. Once Bucky had told his wife about the pretty waitress at the diner that had ensnared Steve’s attention, Nat had made it her mission to befriend her. She had gone into the diner one day and chatted with you, inviting her to join her friends for a girl’s night. That had been the start of a beautiful friendship that had the redhead trying to sniff out what the feelings were between you and Steve.

At the diner, it had been a long day for you. It was nearly 4 in the afternoon and she was dead on her feet. Nat came flying into the diner, “Sugar, get your best outfit on! We are going out tonight.”

You shook her head at the amount of energy her friend had. All you wanted to do was finish your shift and go home to soak in the claw foot tub you’d just scrubbed clean the day before. You leaned against the counter putting on your best puppy dog eyes, “I have been on my feet since 6 o’clock this morning. The last thing I want to do is go out.”

“It’ll be an easy night, I promise,” Nat hopped onto one of the stools at the counter as you poured her a cup of coffee, decaf of course, “It’ll just be some drinks at the Hideout. Please? First round’s on me.”

You groaned and then nodded, “How could I ever say no to you? I get off in an hour. We getting ready at mine or yours?”

“Mine. I already told Buck that they could meet us there.”

“They?”

“Yeah… Bucky and Steve.”

“Nat, don't tell me this is some setup for a double date.”

The redhead gasped in outrage, “What you must think of me! I just want my friends and I to spend a night out together.” You raised an eyebrow at her friend. Nat held her hands up in defeat, “I promise. No more setups.”

You finished up the last hour of your shift and timed-out. When you walked out, Nat was waiting for her. She drove over to Bucky and her home and they started getting ready. This had become such a common occurrence for the two women that she had taken to leaving a pair of clothes at Nat’s for convenience.

You had opened a bottle of wine while they got ready and by the time the two men arrived, you both had dissolved into giggles. It had not gotten better as the group got to The Hideout. You and Nat were having a great time and the music started playing. The latter had pulled Bucky out of their booth to dance. Steve had slung his arm over the back of the booth and in your inebriated state, you didn’t notice how much either of you had curled against each other. Tucked comfortably in the booth, you people-watched. As the music transitioned into a slower one, he held out his hand, “Dance with me, Sugar?”

“I’d love to,” you laughed as he pulled her out onto the floor. Soon the music slowed, and you were swaying together. Steve had chatted away about his work and you were happy to listen to him speak so passionately. Eventually, you leaned your head against his broad chest, feeling his hand move underneath her shirt. His fingers grazed your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. You felt Steve’s heartbeat speed up and smiled softly to yourself. You weren’t alone the effects of being in such close contact. As the song ended, you lifted her head up and got sucked into his deep blue eyes. Just as you thought he was going to lean down and kiss you, the main door swung open and three women walked in. When Steve saw them, he cleared his throat and stepped back awkwardly. You were left feeling cold and confused as Steve walked away before you could ask him what was wrong. You moved to the bar, wondering if you’d just screwed everything up with that almost kiss. Steve had become the person you were closest to in town and without his company, the loneliness was sure to grow.

Throwing back a shot before heading to the bathroom, you needed a moment to clear her head. You stared into the mirror, wondering how you could fix your mistake. One of the stalls opened revealing one of the women that had come in. She washed her hands and fixed her lipstick before acknowledging you. The smile she gave didn’t reach her eyes. She spun around, “You’re Y/N, right? From the diner?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you were not sober enough to remember if she’s ever been into your work before, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

The blonde looked almost insulted that she wasn’t instantly recognized, “I’m Trish. Steve’s fiancée, Carly, is my best friend.”

You thought you were going to be sick right there on the floor, “Steve has a fiancée?”

“Oh yeah!” Trish explained, “It’s not official yet but she found the ring in his sock drawer a month ago. I’m sure that’s why he hasn’t mentioned it yet. But, it’s coming any day now”

“Right--,” you grabbed a paper towel and dried your hands quickly, “It was nice to meet you. I guess I should get back to my friend.” You hurried out of the bathroom and back to the booth, grabbing your purse and jacket. Thankfully, it seemed that Nat and Bucky were still occupied and you made a quick getaway.

The walk back home was only 20 minutes and as soon as the front door was shut, tears started to well in your eyes. You fanned your face, “Stop it. Stop it. He’s not yours.” Walking into the bathroom, you hated how much Steve had melded into your life. You’d brought paint samples into the diner one day and asked his opinion. Now, the color he picked seemed to mock you. How could she have been so stupid as to let this man in? Of course, he had a girlfriend, soon to be fiancé. Why would he want a waitress who forced her way into his life. God, I’m just a nag. You threw the towel against the wall and curled up in bed, letting yourself wallow in self-pity.

The next morning, Steve didn’t show up for breakfast. Every time the bell above the door chimed, your eyes jumped to see who it was and each time you cursed herself for being that way. Around lunchtime, Nat came in and looked upset. “Why did you leave without saying goodbye last night?”

You plastered on a fake, apologetic smile, “I started to feel sick and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“How did you get home?”

“I walked,” When Nat opened her mouth to scold her about being safer, you shook your head, “I know. I know. It was a stupid idea, but I was drunk. I promise I won’t do it again.”

The redhead nodded and then switched gears. A mischievous grin grew on her face, “You and Steve looked comfy on the dance floor last night.”

You scoffed as you turned to refill a coffee pot, “That’s never gonna happen.”

“But—“

You decided to be blunt, “I know about Carly.”

Nat looked confused, “And because of that you won’t give him a chance?”

“Definitely not. I’m kinda insulted that no one said anything to me.” A family walked in and sat in your section, “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

When you turned back to put the family’s order in, Nat was gone and it felt like a boulder was weighing on your chest.

It wasn’t until a week after that awful night that Steve deigned to come back to the diner. He looked like a child who’d just been told off by a parent. He took his usual seat at the counter and put his hand on top of yours when you came over, “I’m sorry about last week. Sugar, let me explain.”

You slid your hand out from under his and shook your head, “No need. I know the story now. I’m sorry if I gave off the wrong impression. Let’s just be glad nothing happened. I’ll bring your breakfast around.” When you brought him his meal, Steve felt sick to his stomach. There were no melon ball eyes, no bacon smile, not even a glass of orange juice. Just toast and a black coffee. You walked away before he could say a thing.

The food tasted like sand against his tongue and when he swallowed his last bite, he walked out and left the money on the counter without another word. As soon as he was out of sight, he pulled his cruiser onto the side of the road and threw up the “boring breakfast.” His temper was at an all-time high and he was shouting at everyone in the station. Finally, Bucky walked into his office and shut the door, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I fucked up and it’s unsolvable. I almost kissed Y/N last week, but Carly came in and I freaked out instead. You know how those women are and I thought that if they saw me with Y/N, they’d run her off. Turns out I was right. She said she’d heard enough and is glad that nothing has happened between us.”

Bucky was surprised to hear that. You had seemed too sweet to let something like Carly’s lies get to you. Especially without hearing Steve’s side. He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn, Punk.”

Things did not improve as the weeks went on. First, your greetings had slowed down in their enthusiasm and he missed being called Sheriff Stranger. Steve tried to catch your eye, but you quickly put the plate down and went to another table. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your eyes weren’t as bright and he could see the makeup trying to hide how tired you were. Everything about Y/N was just off.

It was late that night when Steve swung around the back of the diner. The main parking lot was packed and he decided the back was easier. He saw a figure leaning against the wall and figured it was one of the waitresses on a smoke break. As he walked closer, Steve realized it was you and that you were asleep. You’d had walked out back for some air and had fallen asleep against the back wall. Steve shook you awake and you were embarrassed that you’d crashed like that. He pushed a strand of hair out of the way and you winced at the close contact. He pulled his hand back, “What’s going on, Y/N. Did something else happen?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. Steve hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your head up so that your eyes met his. He leaned down and kissed you, instantly making you dizzy. You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moved closer until your back was against the brick, both of you intoxicated with the other.

You were interrupted by someone calling your name inside and you pulled away. With one look back, you hurried back inside. Steve ran a hand through his hair, a grin on his face. Maybe not all was lost if you kissed him back like that. You were the first person he’d been interested in since he’d ended things with Carly. After they’d broken up, she was so angry that she told anyone who would listen about how he couldn’t get it up and was all around disappointing. One of the downsides of living in a small town was that once something was out, everyone knew. Since their breakup, Steve had been too worried to even try and date someone else. Suddenly, you’d shown up in a hail of melon balls and paint samples and the idea of trying again wasn’t quite so terrifying.

You had gone home that night, the kiss seared in your mind. It felt like you’d just closed your eyes when your alarm went off. It was a rough morning and you were nursing a cup of coffee when you saw Steve, Bucky, and Nat arrive and sit in one of the booths in your section. You groaned when you saw the shit-eating grins on all their faces and walked over to the table, “Morning. What’ll it be?” Bucky and Nat quickly put in their order and then you turned to the blond.

“Waffles.”

You just stared at Steve and slowly brought one hand up to his face. He cheered internally when he felt your cool hand on his forehead, “You don’t have a fever. Are you dying?”

Both Bucky and Nat were dying on the other side of the table. Steve didn’t take his eyes off of you, “Ha. Ha. You’re on me all the time to try something different; so I am.”

The smile that crossed Y/N’s face made it all worth it. She said nothing else, worried he’d change his mind. She put the order in and went to check on her other tables. The minute his breakfast was ready, Y/N brought it over to him, “I won’t force the orange juice on you today. So, your coffee is on me.”

“Sugar, you don’t need to do that. If I didn’t want the waffles I wouldn’t have ordered them.” Nat saw the smile falter at the pet name and decided she was going to get you to talk before she left.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m in charge of your bill. Just say thank you and tell me I’m right.”

“Thank you.”

You tried to stay busy as the trio ate, but you squeaked as Nat came out of nowhere and dragged you into the bathroom, “Spill.” You stammered as you tried to figure out what to say. “I know you and Steve kissed, but when he called you Sugar you looked like you were dying inside. Are you really so shallow that you’re going to let one little rumor from a heinous girlfriend ruin this chance?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m honestly super pissed off that you’d try and set me up with an engaged guy just because you don’t like his fiancee.”

“Who’s fiancee?”

“Steve’s!”

“Steve doesn’t have a fiancee.”

It felt like all the air had deflated from you, “What?

“Steve’s not engaged to Carly. Never was. They broke up over a year ago.”

“I don’t understand. Why would her friend tell me that?”

“Because Carly is a psycho bitch hates to see Steve happy. After they broke up, she told everyone that his little friend was less than great and he sucked in bed. Everyone in town has been talking about the two of you and how cute you guys are. You’re the first woman that he’s gotten the courage to any show interest in since it all happened.

“That…” You couldn’t believe you’d been trapped in such a lie, “BITCH! How could she do that to Steve? He’s like the sweetest guy ever!”

“He thought you’d heard the rumors and that’s why you pulled away.” You were so confused and just stood there. Nat smacked you on the arm, “Well, go out there! Kiss him and tell him that you're both idiots. Go!”

You were practically gnawing at your bottom lip, your stomach in knots. You walked up to the table, “Steve, could we talk?”

“Of course, Sugar.”

Your eyes slid over to Bucky, “Outside?” You grabbed his hand and dragged him out the front door. You bounced your leg as you tried to figure out how to start this, “Um--so--you see--I--.”

“Y/N?”

“Fuck it,” You threw caution to the wind and hooked your finger into Steve’s belt loop, pulling him in for a kiss. He buried his hands in your hair, his tongue tangling with yours. He pulls away, both of you trying to catch your breath. His eyebrows were furrowed and vulnerability and fear shone in his eyes. “I am an idiot,” you blurted out.

“I’m just not quite sure what’s going on. We don’t talk for like two weeks and then I kissed you and you ran away and now you’re kissing me again.”

“I thought you were engaged.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, I know that now. Nat explained everything to me. The actual story. I have half a mind to burn down that bitch, Carly’s, house.”

Steve laughed and wrapped an arm around your waist, “I really don’t want to have to arrest you for arson.”

“Technically, it be attempted murde--,” He leaned down and kissed you again, shutting you up. You pulled back and smiled up at him. “I’m taking you out tonight. I’ll tell Nat to come by your place to help you get ready.” You couldn’t help but giggle at how well he knew you.

You turned to walk back into the diner and found every patron plastered against the windows watching you. “Somehow, I think she might already know.” Steve just smiled at you and laced your finger together, walking back into the diner where it all began.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #avengers au #avengers imagine #Chris Evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #steve rogers fluff #toomanyrobins #avengers #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain America #avengers x reader #marvel

[snorlax891]

@moon-spirit-yue  Could this be considered Sapphic Yearning Namaari as well? It kinda seems like it to me. This was once again kind of inspired by it. XD Raya: *has just succeeded in stealing the Dragon Scroll from Fang*  Namaari: *managed to catch up to her* Nowhere to run now, Dep la. Any last words? Raya: *spins around suddenly wearing a suit and a fedora* As a matter of fact, yes. :P Namaari: ...Wha? Raya: *music plays out of nowhere, and she starts dancing, MJ style* You’ve been hit by, you’ve been hit by, a smooth criminal!  Namaari: ... General Atitaya: *managed to catch up with Namaari, leading more Fang soldiers* Princess! We found you! *sees what’s going on* Ummm? Should we apprehend the criminal now Your Highness? Namaari: *waves her off* No, no. Let her finish. *drooling over Raya and clearly too gay to function* Atitaya: *sighs* I don’t get paid enough for this shit. Fang Soldiers: *lowkey vibing along to the beat* Raya: *finishes her routine a bit sweaty and panting, but grinning* Namaari: *a big gay smile on her face* Wow...that was...wow. Raya: Thank you, thank you. *bowing dramatically* I’d love to stay for an encore but I really have to go. Places to be, things ta do ya know?  Namaari: Hee hee, ok bye. *waves slowly* Raya: Later, Binturi. It was nice seeing you. *winks and backflips out the window* Atitaya: Princess? Shouldn’t we...you know...go after her? I can organize a search party and- Namaari: *blushing, a dopey, in love expression on her face* Did you see that? She winked at me, and smiled, and she said it was nice to see me. *wanders off down the hallway, giggling and smiling* Atitaya: *sighs as she watches her go, knowing Raya got away again* That woman needs to get laid, big time. Fang Soldiers: *wondering if Raya could be persuaded to perform again* Atitaya: I need to get laid, big time...

#rayamaari #rayaari #raya x namaari #raya #namaari #namaari is a simp #raya in a suit hrrrnnnnnggg #ratld namaari #incorrect ratld #ratld incorrect quotes #ratld memes #soft namaari #namaari of fang #raya of heart #they're gay your honor #they're in love your honor #raya and namaari #namaari and raya #raya and the last dragon #raya is a troll #Namaari can't cope #namaari can't handle all that style #raya's got style #raya can sing #she has the voice of an angel #raya can bust a move

[unsettledink]

Worth the World - Fluffuary Day 23

Prompt: Flowers

Words: 5463

Summary: Valentine’s Day is not Peter’s favorite holiday by a long shot. And it’s not just because he’s a little jealous of everyone else showing off gifts from their partners. 

But it’s still really nice that an unknown someone sent him a gift this year. Or two. Or— okay, this is getting out of hand.

*

Valentine’s Day.

Ugh. 

Peter sighs. Without a doubt, this is his least favorite holiday. It’s just…

It’s not, as MJ would say, because it’s an over commercialized performative display of heteronormative romance (or something like that; he might have gotten it jumbled up a bit). It’s not even that he doesn’t have—and never has had—someone to spend it with, like Ned tends to suggest. Though that sucks too. 

It’s watching his classmates get flowers and silly singing telegrams and cakes, watching them wander around the rest of the day with balloons trailing behind them and juggling their gifts, everyone seeing it. He’d said as much to Tony—Mr. Stark—a few days ago when he’d apparently been too mopey to be ignored. Which is kinda embarrassing.

He hadn’t known how to really explain the difference between being sad not to get anything and not being sad he didn’t have anyone. It— he would have been just as happy if May sent him something silly; it was about people knowing. It was— kind of selfish, really. No matter how he stumbled around trying to say it, it just sounded bad. In the end, he’d settled for saying it was about wanting to feel normal again, for a little bit. 

He knows Tony doesn’t think much of that. 

It doesn’t really matter. Peter’s never gotten anything before, and it’s not like that’s going to change just because it’s his senior year.

Most of the teachers have given up on getting anything real done during Valentine’s Day, with all the interruptions, but not Mrs. Powell. She’s right in the middle of drawing on the whiteboard—and as far as Peter is concerned, first period is too early for trig--when someone knocks on the door. First delivery of the day, looks like. He stares out the window; at least he doesn’t have to think about math for a few minutes.

“Peter Parker?”

Honestly, it doesn’t even register for a moment. It’s not until Ned pokes him in the side that Peter’s brain stutters back out of shocked white noise and starts running again. “Uh,” he says. “That’s me? I mean, I’m Peter Parker.” 

Someone giggles. 

The lady delivering just smiles at him though. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says, and hands him a tall, slim vase, with just one perfect, dark red rose. Peter stares at it. 

Ned elbows him again. “Who’s it from?”

There’s no tag, no note, nothing. “I don’t know,” Peter tells him. “It doesn’t say, so…”

“Oooo,” Flash says. “Parker’s got a secret admirer. Yeah right; you probably sent it to yourself.” Peter can feel how hot his face is and it probably just makes him look really guilty, but he didn’t. Not that he can prove it.

“Back to the reason you’re actually here,” Mrs. Powell says sharply, “maybe Flash can tell us the formula we need to use here.”

Peter has no idea if Flash gives the right answer or not, because he can’t stop staring at the rose. Can’t stop thinking, his mind spinning too fast. 

Someone sent him a gift. 

Part of him is still running through possible gift givers; not MJ, surely not. He can’t even imagine that. Ned’s heard him sigh about getting nothing plenty, but there’s no reason he’d do something now. May? Maybe, and he can totally see her forgetting to even include a note. 

Maybe, he thinks with a sudden swoop of his stomach, it’s a prank. Please don’t let it be a prank. Maybe— maybe there actually is someone who likes him. Maybe there is. 

But even with all that running through his mind, it’s background noise to the single, enormous feeling of actually getting a gift for Valentine’s Day, in front of everyone. 

It’s really nice. 

No one pounces on him in the hall between classes to yell ‘gotcha!’; he gets a few looks and a few smiles, but nothing suspicious. Maybe it really is for real. 

Second period, Mr. Jackson doesn’t even try. Just puts on a movie and grades papers while everyone gossips as other deliveries start arriving, flowers and a teddy bear with candy and a singing telegram, and Peter is no longer the only one drawing attention, thankfully. It was nice getting it early in the day, though. 

“Mr. Parker?”

It— it can’t be. He misheard. Right? 

He raises his hand, slowly. 

A gold box is deposited on his desk, all fancily embossed and no label. No note. 

“Well?” Peter looks up, startled; he hadn’t even heard MJ scoot over in front of his desk. Well, it’s not like Mr. Jackson is paying attention, though it feels like everyone else is. “Are you going to open it?”

“Um,” Peter says. “Yeah, I— I guess? What if it’s like, a glitter bomb?”

MJ looks at him like he’s lost a few marbles. “Ooookay,” she says. “You’ll still have to open it eventually.” 

True. “Well, here goes,” he mutters, and lifts off the top. 

It’s chocolate covered strawberries. Really fancy ones, all decorated and different colors and some are even rolled in stuff. They smell amazing, not kind of artificial like a lot of strawberries do. Not that it’s something he noticed before the bite, but—

“Not glitter,” MJ says, and Peter laughs a little. This is crazy. “No note?”

Maybe they are from her? “Nope,” Peter says. “Uh, you want one?”

They taste pretty amazing too. He ends up sharing them with a couple other people; there’s at least two dozen of them and while he probably could eat them all before they got mushy, he’s pretty sure he’d feel sick. 

He catches Ned in the hall after class. Gives him a strawberry too and takes a couple minutes to freak out at him before third period, because neither Ned or MJ share it with him. “Are you really, really sure it’s not MJ?” Ned asks him.

“I mean, does it even seem like something she’d do?” He doesn’t think so, but then— he might be wrong. 

Ned barely considers it before he shakes his head. 

Third period brings reading Hamlet out loud and a dozen roses. 

They’re lighter than the first one, with a dark yellow center. Really, really pretty, and he gets a couple people ‘awwing’ over them. He still has no clue who is sending these. This is nuts. It’s just— it’s straight up crazy. No one else has gotten more than one delivery yet, and he’s gotten three. Who is it? 

He pulls the first rose out of its vase and tucks in the center of these roses, trying to ignore the way a bunch of his classmates are looking at him and giggling. It stands out against the lighter ones; Peter bites his lip.

Please don’t let this be some elaborate prank, he thinks. He can’t really imagine why someone would put this much effort into it—and money, roses aren’t cheap for Valentine’s Day!—just to make fun of him, but then he doesn’t really understand why people started making fun of him in the first place. 

Maybe it’s Flash. He wouldn’t care about the cost and he’d probably love to humiliate Peter in a big, showy way. 

Ned’s mouth drops open when he sees Peter carrying this newest gift. “Wow,” he says. “This is crazy.”

“That’s what I said!” 

He can’t concentrate even a little bit during fourth period. Ned keeps looking over at him every time Peter’s leg starts jittering again, but he can’t help himself. He feels nearly sick with nerves, waiting for whatever is next. Because three times— three times is a pattern. Three times means there’s almost definitely going to be a fourth. 

There is. 

This time it’s a box, a little bigger than his hand. He’s pretty sure this one isn’t a glitter bomb either, but he still hesitates. 

Stares, once he’s opened it. “Dude,” Ned says, craning over. “What is it?” 

“Uh,” Peter says, tilting the box so Ned can see too. “It’s a watch.” A really fancy looking watch; it’s not flashy, not like some of the really crazy watches Peter’s seen Tony wear, but sleekly elegant. Slim and dark and just— pretty. Something Peter could actually see himself wearing. 

“Is that a Piguet?” Flash says behind him and Peter startles. “Seriously? When did you nab yourself a rich sugar daddy?” He eyes Peter, a slow once over. “How? I mean, come on, Parker.” 

He says it all loud enough that people are staring, of course, and Peter’s face is so hot it hurts. “That’s not—” he says, “I’m not— I don’t! They’re not that kind of gifts!”

“Like you know anyone that could afford something like that,” Flash says before he saunters off. Why is he such a dick? 

“You’re not though, right?” Ned says, much quieter. Peter gives him a betrayed look and Ned holds up his hands. “I don’t think you would!” Ned says. “It’s just. Really weird, that’s all.”

“I know,” Peter says, staring down at the watch, and a little of the excited, pleased shine has been rubbed away by Flash making things all… sordid. For second, he almost just closes the box and shoves it in his backpack, but— no. No, he’s not going to do that. 

It fits like it was made to measure, and it looks good on him too. 

MJ shares fifth period with them; “So?” she says. “Was there more?” Peter holds up his wrist and MJ’s eyebrows rise. 

“Wow,” she says. “That’s actually really nice looking. I was kind of hoping for something flashier.” 

Peter glares at her. “This whole thing is flashy,” he mutters, but even if he’s feeling pretty embarrassed… he’s kind of enjoying it too. 

“Bets on what’s next?” MJ asks Ned. Ned shakes his head. Peter doesn’t say anything, but he’s pretty sure it’s going to be flowers again. 

Maybe he should have bet, because he’s right. It’s roses again, two dozen of them, a slight lighter red than the first, and every single petal is edged with gold. Not like, yellow flower color gold, but literal gold foil or paint or something; it actually shines under the light. 

Ned and MJ stare at them in silence right alongside him. “Well,” Mj says eventually. “That’s— flashier.” 

“But like, classy,” Ned says. “I wonder if that’s real gold. That’d be crazy, right? Can’t be.” 

Peter would almost be willing to bet it is. 

He’s really, really wishing he had the first clue what’s going on. 

He needs help carrying them to lunch, so Ned takes the smaller vase. (Okay, he could have carried them all but he would have had to sticky something and it might look weird.) He’s already getting plenty of attention; the glances and smiles from earlier have turned into stares and whispers, and in the cafeteria there’s all the other grades that haven’t seen things delivered. Peter kind of wants to hide out in the library for lunch or something, but he’s hungry. At least he can have a little break, right?

Wrong. So wrong. Because it seems like the second they set Peter’s flowers down, there’s a polite throat clearing behind him. 

Peter turns, and there’s a guy with a bunch of bags. “Um. Hi?” 

“Are you Peter Parker?” When Peter nods, the guys nods too and steps past him to put the bags on their table. They stare as he starts pulling out container after container after container, and there’s a noticeable hush at the tables around them, more and more people watching. 

“This is a new one for me,” the guys says, casually. “Never thought of doing something like this for Valentine’s? But I might steal the idea for myself, next year. Anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day; enjoy!” 

Peter pries open a container and the most amazing smell wafts out. His stomach straight up growls. “I… I guess this is lunch?” he says. Takes another look at the pile of containers. “Lunch for all three of us, actually.” 

“I am dying to know who is doing this,” MJ says, opening another container, and Ned’s not wasting any time either. 

“You and me both,” Peter says.

“Seriously,” Ned says and passes him a tray. “You don’t have any ideas at all?”

Peter shakes his head. 

The food is good; scratch that, the food is amazing. Somehow everything is hot and nothing is soggy and every single thing is something Peter likes. There’s a soup in particular that Peter makes Peter nearly moan when he takes the first bite. 

It’s… familiar? How— why does he know this dish? Where has he had it before?

He closes his eyes when he takes the next bite and tries to stop thinking for a second. Not very successfully, but it doesn’t matter because the memory hits him like a brick. 

He’s had this in Tony’s workshop. 

Peter doesn’t know the name of the place—though he’s pretty sure it’s a lot closer to Stark Tower than it is to his school—but he knows this dish. Tony orders in food for them pretty often and this had shown up once and Peter had eaten every bit of it. Had been really obvious in how much he liked it, because it showed up several more times without Tony ever saying a word about it. 

No one else would know that. 

“Peter?”

He looks up; Ned’s frowning at him. “You okay?” he says. “You were just staring at your food for ages.” 

“Yeah,” Peter says, his mouth dry. “Yeah, uh, I’m fine. I’m— yeah, fine.” He makes himself start eating again, but as amazing as it tastes he’s barely registering it, because Tony sent this. Tony had to have sent this. There’s no way someone else would just choose this out of the way, definitely does not deliver here restaurant, or this specific meal. And if Tony sent this, it means Tony sent everything else too. 

Peter’s doesn’t know what to do with that fact. Theory. No, fact. 

Tony sent him— why? Why would he do this? What possible reason could there be? It’s just— it’s crazy. Peter’s pretty sure it’s not a joke, even if Tony finds it funny, but that only makes it harder to understand. 

Is it pity? Did he hear Peter complaining about not getting things and decide to fake someone being into him so Peter wouldn’t feel left out? Does he feel sorry for Peter? 

Was he ever going to tell Peter it was him, or just let him keep wondering forever? 

He can’t wait for school to be over now, because he needs answers.

Fifth period, he knows exactly what to expect, and Tony—probably Tony, 99% sure Tony—doesn’t disappoint. Roses, more roses, over two dozen for sure but Peter’s not counting, white with dark, dark red edges. Roses, and every time Peter ever smells roses again he’s going to think of this; he doesn’t know if that makes him want to cry or not. 

Because even if Tony isn’t doing this for a laugh, or out of pity, he’s not doing it because he actually is interested in Peter like that. 

And Peter desperately, desperately wishes he was. 

By the time sixth period comes around, everyone in class knows that Peter Parker is (supposedly, thanks Flash) getting a gift every hour from his sugar daddy, and everyone is watching him, just waiting for what’s next. Peter hunches his shoulders and puts his head down and gets more and more tense as the minutes tick by and nothing appears. 

It’s not until the last ten minutes of class that the gift is delivered, late enough that Peter had started to hope that maybe that was it. This gift comes in another box, about the same size as the watch box but slimmer. Peter takes a deep breath before he opens it. 

Snaps it shut a minute later, before Ned’s even had a chance to lean over. 

Oh, god. 

“Peter,” Ned hisses. “What is it? Come on, man. Why do you look like that?”

Peter shakes his head; leans over and whispers in Ned’s ear. “It’s a key,” he says. “A— a car key.”

Ned’s just as wide eyed as Peter feels. “They got you a car?” Ned whispers back.

“I think so?” Peter says. He doesn’t know what else to think about the key and fob in the box. Or the little card tucked in with them: Don’t worry, FRIDAY has the wheel until I get the chance to show you some real driving.

He guesses Tony isn’t trying to hide after all. Oh my god, Tony got him a car. Probably a ridiculously expensive, ridiculously fast, ridiculously flashy car, and Peter doesn’t even know how to drive. Not really. Stealing Flash’s car doesn’t count for much. What is he going to do with a car? Where is he going to keep a car?

What is Tony thinking? 

He knows what he wishes Tony is thinking, as impossible and hopeless as it is. Because it is. It is, utterly and completely, no matter how Peter wishes this was Tony wanting to… to court him, in his usual over the top way. No matter how much Peter wants to think that this might actually mean something, it doesn’t. He knows that. 

“You still don’t know who it is?” MJ whispers, and it’s really unnerving the way so many people are staring at them. 

“Uh,” Peter says. “Actually—” He sighs. “It’s Tony.” 

For a minute, she doesn’t get it. “Tony— wait. Are you. You mean. Really?” 

“Does that mean you’re, you know,” Ned says, making vague gestures. “Together?”

“What? No! Of course not!” 

“So he just… does this sort of thing?” MJ asks.

“I don’t know,” Peter says. “I guess? I don’t know what he’s thinking.” 

“Does he even get that it’s super weird?” Ned says, and Peter shrugs. Everything Tony has been involved with that included Peter has been pretty weird. Where is this supposed to fall on that scale? 

Seventh period lasts forever, Peter resenting every second. He’s almost free. He’s so close to escaping and being able to ask Tony what the fuck is going on. Just half an hour. Just twenty minutes. Just—

“Peter Parker?”

No, no no no. 

He puts his hand up and his head down, and when he lifts it again, there are roses everywhere. Dozens and dozens and dozens, every one of them the dark red of the very first one. How many are there? Did Tony buy out an entire florist? What is he thinking? What is Peter going to do with all of them? He doesn’t even know how he could get them home. 

This is a nightmare; Peter puts his head back down and groans.

MJ laughs softly, and when he looks at her she’s sort of petting one of the roses. “He’s really going for some grand gesture thing, isn’t he,” she says. 

If Tony was— if Peter was— if they were actually together, or if Peter believed for a second this was leading there, this would be incredibly romantic. Really, really excessive and ridiculous, but still. Really romantic too. And Peter would still be blushing so hard he almost thinks it’s never going to fade, but he’d also be so— 

So happy. 

Instead, he just wants to cry. 

Miss Ahuja gives him permission to leave most of them in her room for a few hours, until he can figure out what to do with them, so Peter just takes the gold tipped ones and the yellow and red ones and the very first one with him. 

And almost runs right into Happy when he comes out of the classroom. 

“I— Happy?” Peter says, because this day just keeps getting weirder. 

“Hey, Peter,” Happy says. “I was told to help you carry stuff to the car. What kind of stuff are we talking about? Why can’t you get it all?”

“Um,” Peter says. Leans back and pushes the classroom door open; Happy pokes his head in and sighs. “Wait, the car?”

“So it’s like that,” Happy says, whatever that’s supposed to mean. “Alright, kid. Got any friends to help out?” 

“Yeah, um, Ned, can you—” and Ned’s already grabbing a vase, MJ right behind him. “Seriously though, the car?”

“The car,” Happy says. “Which I need the keys for. What?” he says when Peter frowns. “Tony had the thing dropped off, I guess.” 

“Right,” Peter says. “Because that makes perfect sense. Why would he—” He sighs. “Right. Keys.”

“Could be worse,” Happy says while Peter digs out the box and hands it to him. “Could be a giant bunny.”

“A— a what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The car is not what Peter was expecting. Okay, he’s sure it’s incredibly expensive and fast, but it’s not flashy. At least, not overtly so, like a lot of the cars Tony drives. It’s silver and sleek and a convertible, so at least there’s still something wholly impractical about it. It takes them three trips to bring out all the roses and they completely fill the backseat, Peter having to stick a vase down by his feet as well. 

“Where am I taking you?” Happy asks. “Home? May’s going to have fun with this.”

Oh no. No. “Actually,” Peter says, “could you maybe take me to the tower? I, uh. Think I need to talk to Ton— Mr. Stark.” 

Happy snorts. “Going to read him the riot act, huh? Good luck with that. Not that he doesn’t deserve it,” he adds, looking over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Peter says, weakly. “Yeah, that.” 

It festers inside him on the drive, this awful little fragment of hope that’s been growing ever since lunch. This tiny voice that keeps saying, what if he does? What if he is? What if he feels something? 

It a really stupid voice and a stupid idea, but he has to ask something. Even if he can’t come out and ask it straight up, he has to at least ask something.

“Good luck,” Happy says when Peter climbs out. Pats him on the back. “Keys’ll be in the side pocket when you’re done.” Peter nods, not really paying any attention. 

Tony’s in the workshop. Of course he is. 

For a minute—for two, three, four, and FRIDAY doesn’t say anything so it’s okay—Peter just watches him, and wants. 

Tony notices him eventually, like he always does, even when he’s in the middle of something. “Hey!” he says. “How’s it going, kid?” He grins, slow and obviously pleased with himself. “Have a good day?”

Peter walks a little closer to him. “I— I had a really weird day,” he says. “Um. I mean, thank you? That was— really—” Words fail him and he waves his hands around vaguely; he doesn’t even really know what he’s trying to say.

“Oh, you’re wearing it,” Tony says. “Good, here— lemme show you something. Right, so, tap the face three times and then turn the outer ring clockwise.” Peter does, because at this point, why not. 

There’s a click, and then a moment later the watch is unfolding itself, spreading up his arm and down his palm. Is turning into a variation on his web-shooters. Peter stares at it.

“It doesn’t pack quite the punch your usual ones do,” Tony says, “but it’s easier to keep on hand all the time. Hopefully you can wear this anywhere without raising eyebrows, and it’ll be closer to hand then the nano ones even.”

Everything Tony has done today has been excessive and over the top and way, way too much, but this— this is the thing that breaks Peter. This is the thing that makes it obvious, makes it so, so obvious, that Tony put thought into this. That Tony didn’t just do this on a whim or for a laugh. 

Right?

“Tony,” Peter says, slowly. “What— what exactly did you mean, with all this?” 

“What did I mean?” Tony says, just as slowly, confused. 

“Was it— was it a joke? Or—”

“No!” Tony says, cutting him off. “God, no, it’s not a joke. Peter— shit. I just. You sounded so down about being invisible for Valentine’s, and I thought— that, that you could have something nice for it. Should have something nice for it. And I could fix that? I—” He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “I wanted to give you a nice day. And— a little flex, you know? Since you have to hold yourself back so much already, I thought— why not show them someone thinks you’re worth the world?” 

“Oh,” Peter says.

“I fucked up,” Tony says, “didn’t I. I’m sorry. I should have just— was it awful?”

“You didn’t— no,” Peter tells him, and he means it. “No, it wasn’t awful. It was nice, I did have a nice day. It’s just…”

“I know,” Tony says. “Too much.” 

Yeah, but. If they were— 

Peter liked it. 

“So,” he says. “It was because you wanted to be nice,” and it’s so, so hard to force the next words out. “Was… was that it? All it was?”

Tony hesitates, looking at him. “Yes?” he says. “Was— is there something else it should have been?”

He was wrong. He knew it, he knew it and yet it still felt like a weight sinking right down though his chest, into his stomach. “No,” he says. Shakes his head. 

“Peter,” Tony says. “Was there something else you thought it was?” And, a moment later, when Peter can’t quite bring himself to say anything but can’t quite manage to leave either, “Was there something you wanted it to be?”

He should say something. He should say something, because roses and watches that turn into web-shooters and Tony wanting people to think someone loved Peter. He should— “It’s just,” he says. “It’s. You know. Valentine’s Day. I thought— I hoped—” No, that’s not right. 

“I wanted it to actually be because you—” God, he’s so terrible at this. 

“Kid,” Tony says so softly, and this is where he tries his hardest to let Peter down gently, isn’t it. “Come here, will you?” 

There’s no point in saying no, so Peter goes to him. Comes even closer when Tony gestures him forward, and then Tony reaches out and sets his hand on Peter’s hip and pulls him a step closer, until Peter’s standing between Tony’s legs. There’s a faint flutter of hope trying to rise up again, and Peter tells it to fuck off. This isn’t that. 

“I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t occurred to me,” Tony says, and Peter stares at the casing on Tony’s chest, unable to look higher. “I’d— I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t on my mind while I was deciding what to get you, that I haven’t— haven’t thought of you like that. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

He’s not hearing this right. He can’t be. 

“I couldn’t do that to you, Peter,” Tony says, and he sounds tired. “It’s more than a little fucked up for me to even be interested, much less act on it. I don’t— you’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and I don’t want you to end up damaged in the ways this sort of shit can. You don’t need that living in your head forever, don’t need me dragging you down.”

He is hearing this right. What the fuck. He is— and Tony is— 

“Why are you so sure it’s going to go so wrong?” Peter asks. “It doesn’t have to?”

“It does,” Tony says. “It will. It— it always does, Peter. There are some gaps you just can’t bridge. And when it’s your first, it doesn’t ever really fade. It just. It doesn’t. I don’t want you to end up like—” 

He sighs, and Peter finally looks up. Tony looks as miserable as Peter feels. “I want you to be better than me, kid.” 

Peter thinks. Chews on his lip and takes his time because he has to do this right, he has to say this right, and Tony gives him that time. Just waits, quietly watching him, his hand burning on Peter’s hip. 

“You keep saying what I don’t need,” Peter says finally. “And what you want, and like. I know you don’t think I’ll make smart decisions, and I know you want to protect me, but… why can’t I know what I need? What about what I want? For once, can I get to choose what happens to me?”

Why does everyone always think they know what’s better for him than he does? Maybe he’s still a teen, but he’s not stupid. 

Tony’s pulled back a little, looking at him closer. “Alright,” he says, after what feels like ages. “What do you want?”

Maybe— maybe he can hope. “Can we try?” Peter asks. “For a little? At least see what happens? Because—” He swallows, hard. “Because I really want this, even if you think it’s a bad idea.”

“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll end up regretting.”

“Well,” Peter says, “that’s kind of already happened. A lot. So.” 

The silence goes on and on and on, neither of them moving, and Peter doesn’t know what else to say. 

So he ends up just blurting out the next thought in his head, like an idiot. “Would you— would you kiss me? Please?”

He doesn’t think it’s going to happen, even when Tony’s hand settles against his cheek, even when Tony leans in, even when Tony’s lips are almost on his. It doesn’t seem possible that it’s happening, but it is, and oh, fuck, it’s so good. It’s soft and barely more than brushing their lips together and even so, when Tony pulls back Peter sways after him, this tiny noise catching in his throat.

If the first one was good, this kiss is mindblowing, Tony’s lips opening under his and his tongue against Peter’s and his arms around Peter, pressing them together. Peter wraps his arms around Tony’s neck and clings, moans into Tony’s mouth and wishes he didn’t have to breathe. 

“Jesus, Peter,” Tony whispers. “You can’t make noises like that, or I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

“Don’t,” Peter says, trying to tug him back. “Don’t bother. I don’t even want you to.” 

Tony laughs and while Peter could make him get closer, he doesn’t want to use his strength like that. 

“Okay,” Tony says, “so I knew it was a bad idea the second I bought it, and I didn’t think I was ever actually going to be able to give it to you, but I got you another gift.” Peter kind of doesn’t care all that much, but if Tony’s telling him now, there’s probably a reason. 

“It’s over there,” Tony says, nodding at a different desk, and when Peter—very reluctantly—steps away to go there, Tony’s right behind him.

There’s a flat, rectangular box on the table, black, about as big as Peter’s laptop; it’s surprisingly light when he picks it up. 

Inside, there’s this— this pale, pale pink, almost white, thing. This thing that’s all mesh and lace and a lot of straps and Peter’s not even really sure how it should go on, but his breath catches anyway with how hard and fast the want hits him. 

“Please,” Tony says, pressed right up against his back, his chin on Peter’s shoulder. “Please tell me if this is too much, too fast, but I’m thinking you could go upstairs and put that on, so I can take it right back off. Yes? No?”

Peter can’t breathe. He nods, over and over, vigorously, and Tony laughs against his neck. “You want to try that in words, baby?”

Baby, Peter thinks, his brain completely short circuiting. “Yes. Yes,” he manages eventually, “I could absolutely do that. I would really really like to do that. I would love to do that.”

Tony sucks in a breath, and Peter can feel how he shudders, clinging a little tighter to Peter for a moment. “Okay,” Tony says, so softly Peter’s not even sure it was meant for him. “Good.” He steps back. “I’ll see you soon.”

Peter picks the box up; makes it halfway to the door before he gathers enough courage to stop, to turn back and say “Tony?”

Tony’s head snaps up, and he looks worried. 

“Don’t take too long.”

There’s a second where Tony’s eyes just go wide, and then he’s smiling, grinning, growing slowly across his face. It’s so much happier than he’s looked since Peter showed up, and it feels— it feels incredible to know he made Tony smile like that. He made Tony happier. 

He’s going to make Tony feel a lot of things. He’s sure of it.

*

AO3

#fluffuary #starker #ironspider #tony x peter #peter x tony #tony stark x peter parker #mcu #spiderman #posted a little late whoops #that got completely out of hand #my work #fanfiction

[mercurysstars]

The shadow thief (part 2)

Summary: What happens when Peter has to work with the girl he hates to possibly save the world.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing.

A/n: Sorry it took so long for me to post!

_

It's like he could sense she was there. Peter was at lunch sitting next to Ned and Mj when he got the sudden urge to look at the door. He glanced at the door and a few seconds later Y/n walked through. He groaned, Y/n wasn't there for the first half of the day so he assumed- no more like prayed she would just have skipped school.

Ned and Mj followed his line of sight. They could see Y/n scanning the lunchroom Ned stood up and waved her over. Peter quickly pulled his friend back down sneering at him.

He pleaded to whatever God that would listen that she wouldn't have seen him. But of course, they ignored his pathetic pleas and Y/n began to walk over with a slight skip in her step. It was like she knew her very presence tortured him and loved to use torment him by it.

Peter was not having a good day today and he didn't want to deal with Y/n and all of her-, her extraness.

Y/n ungraciously plopped down on the bench across from Peter and slide off her bag setting it on the floor. Y/n could see the sour expression on Peter's face when Ned waved to her and she had to bite back a laugh. She usually wasn't the provocative type but when it came to him it was too easy. "Hey, guys."

Ned greeted her and Mj gave her a nod of acknowledgment. Peter still didn't say anything, he just dipped his chicken nugget into ketchup and aggressively took a bite.

He tried to ignore her presence and Focus on his food but it was very hard when she said stuff like "It's okay Peter I know you missed me you don't have to say anything. You did look a little sad when I had to leave yesterday."

Y/n could see that his scowl had deepened when he finally looked at her. He clenched his right fist into a ball and gritted out "I did not."

Y/n just shrugged and winked at him. She turned to Mj and propped her head onto her hand "Are we still partners for Art? That class isn't really my strong suit."

Peter looked away and then muttered, "I'm pretty sure all of your classes aren't." Y/n narrowed her eyes at him but didn't address his comment.

"For sure. I was thinking we maybe could do a Whale an octopus."

Y/n and Mj talked for a couple of minutes on what to do their paper-mâché project on. She had to admit Mj was way easier to cooperate with and genuinely had considered her ideas. "Why weren't you here earlier."

"I had to help my mom." She said simply.

Peter raised an eyebrow at her vague. It wasn't like he was listening in to their conversation. Not that at all he just happened to overhear it. "Doing?"

"Stuff." She stated. Y/n stole a tater tot off of Peters tray.

Peter saw her and swatted her away "Dude you didn't even try to hide it. Get your own."

She popped it into her mouth. "I couldn't the lunch line was closed when I got here."

He scoffed "You could've to ask instead of sticking your grimy fingers into my food."

"Come on. Sharing is caring. Isn't that the hero thing to do? Help people in need." The truth was Y/n couldn't afford to eat but she wouldn't say that. Instead, she downplayed it as she did it to annoy him.

The bell rang as he rolled his eyes "The heroine thing to do would be to lock you up with the other criminals."

Peter thought he could hear her mutter out a whatever he couldn't be sure because he was already out of the lunchroom heading toward his next class

_

Y/n walked into AP chemistry. She picked the seat all the way in the back not like being in the front. She watched as Peter sat down a couple of seats away from her.

Class began and Y/n's mind began to wander. What would she be doing if she had a normal life? Would she join a club? Play a sport? Do cheer? Okay maybe not cheer but you get the point. Sometimes she longs to be like everyone else but no matter how much you could wish for something. Wishful thinking would never be a reality.

Y/n nearly dozed off but her head snapped up within a second. She looked around to make sure no one notice. When her gaze landed on Peter she could see his attention was directed downward while his arm was mixing something.

Her brows furrowed and she moved her body to get a better angle. Did the teacher give them work to do? The other student was either taking notes or talking. He was mixing what looked like to be white paste into a container. And it hit her he was making webs for his web-shooters.

She didn't get why he didn't just do it at the Avengers compound considering he was basically Tony Starks golden child. She glanced toward the front to make sure the teacher wasn't watching "Pst Parker."

Either he couldn't hear her or was ignoring her. She figured it was the latter considering his above-average hearing. "Hey, Peter." She whispered again.

Peter continues to mix his webs. Y/n rolled her eyes and glance back at the teacher. She ripped a corner off of her notebook picked up her pencil and wrote Hey Web slinger, are those your webs? She crumpled the note up and threw it at him.

Peter felt something hit his cheek and she turned to glare at Y/n 'what' he mouthed. She just pointed at the floor in response. He looked down and saw a balled-up piece of paper. He picked it up, straightened it out, and read the crumpled note. He picked up his pen scribbled a few words and then tossed it back.

Y/n opened the note yes. now leave me alone. She rolled her eyes. Just as she was about to write the note the teacher called on Peter "Mr. Parker what is an atomic number?"

He glanced up from his webs and quickly replied  "Number of protons in the nucleus of an atom." Y/n smirked and wrote down her reply. She threw it back. This time Peter was expecting it so he caught it before it hit his face.

He opened the paper up once again and let out of barely audible scoff. The note read L.O.S.E.R. ps I don't think the teacher likes me very much. Surprise, surprise he thought to himself. Peter threw it back without a second glance.

Y/n caught the note in both hands. Well, I don't like you either so we have something in common. Rude she thought. What was his problem? She flung the paper back at his desk.

What crawled up your ass today? You're being an annoyed asshole. That is what the note said. He nearly laughed. Keyword being nearly. He was annoying? She was the one assaulting him with notes. Another note landed on his desk I'll meet you by the school entrance.

_

Peter was waiting at the gate in front of the school. At least she wanted to get their project done earlier rather than later. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for her. He watched as she walked out of the door and over to him. When she was within a few feet he asked "Ready." She stuck her arm out "Lead the way."

Peter walked out and to the left while Y/n followed. Peter decided they should use the subway to get to his house faster. They walked through the turnstile without paying. Y/n was surprised she's pretty sure that was the most "bad boy." The thing he's ever done.

They made their way down the stairs and onto the platform. They stood side by side waiting for the subway not muttering a word to each other. Finally, it arrived people flooded in as soon as the door opened.

Peter walked in first heading for the back. Y/n followed, she passed a woman holding a baby on one hip with her purse laying half-open by the other. It was the perfect opportunity, while the woman was distracted with her child Y/n stuck her hand in the bag and pulled out $50.

She continued like normal and took the seat next to Peter "Give it back." He said.

Y/n acted like she didn't know if he was talking about and looked at him with an innocent look "Give what back Parker?"

"The money that you took out of her purse. She had a baby Y/n. That's pretty low even for you." Honestly, It was a coincidence that Peter saw her. He turned to make sure she was following and then seen her slip her hand in for a millisecond.

"She has a Louis Vuitton it's not like she couldn't afford it." She rolled her eyes. It was kind of annoying how sometimes he'd catch her and other times he would be completely oblivious.

"I'll buy you whatever you want if you just give it back." Peter didn't know why he was bargaining with her. He could just wrap her up in webs and drop her off in front of the police station and nobody would ask questions. But some small part of him couldn't do it. Surprisingly she agreed.

Y/n Pushed herself up off the seat. She weaved between people hanging onto the poles to the lady and tapped on her shoulder. The woman turned around looked her up and down and sneered looking at her like she was the scrum of the earth.

Y/n had to force the words out. It physically pained her to say it "Excuse me ma'am you dropped this." She stuck out the money and tried to sound polite.

The woman's face did a 180 and replaced her sour look with a grateful one "Oh goodness thank you. Having her has had me all over the place."

Y/n forced out a chuckle and told her she was welcome and not to worry about it. She walked back over to Peter and slumped down into the chair "Happy your majesty?"

"Yes, yes I am."

They continued the rest of the ride in silence. Their stop arrived and Peter got up. Y/n trailed behind him. They once again passed the woman.

The lady gave Y/n a forced smile and Y/n had to bite back a smirk. Jokes on her. When passing by the second time Y/n stuck her hand in again this time pulling out $100.

She didn't have Peter on her back this time because who would go behind Spider-Man's back twice? Y/n didn't have one ounce of guilt. She had bills to pay after all.

Peter and Y/n exited the subway and began to walk down the street. After a few turns, Y/n became curious "Where are we going?"

"Well, I said I would bring you to buy whatever you want and a deals a deal."

Okay, maybe she felt a tiny bit bad. Not for that woman but for not technically keeping up her end of the deal. What is she saying? She felt remorse for impolite Parker. Oh god, she was going crazy. "Are there any good places to eat in queens?"

"Yep, Delmars which is where we are going."

They walked up to a corner street deli. Peter opened the door for her. Y/n shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and walked in. She could see an older looking man and a fluffy brown and white cat. Her eyes lit up and she ran over to the cat picking it up. "Aren't you a pretty kitty." She cooed.

Peter watched as she snuggled the cat. It was like her cold heart melted a bit he thought. He did have to admit it was kind of cute. What was he saying? No it wasn't. He had to remind himself she was the enemy.

Mr. Delmar walked out of the back and noticed him waving him over "Hey Mr. Parker long time no see. Looks like Murph has taken a liking to her."

Y/n tucked the cat in her arm and began to walked down the isles of food. She grabbed chips, pop, slim Jim's, and other things for her. She walked back over to Peter with an arm full of food and a cat in her arms and set it on the counter. Peters eyebrows shot up at her.

"What? it's for both of us. You are a growing boy Peter." She pinched his stomach. Peter had to resist the urge to slap her hand away.

"Are you two together?" Mr. Delmars eyes shot between them.

"No. But he's paying." The cat nudged against her face and she nuzzled it back. Peter rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet.

Mr. Delmar began to ring up the food and grabbed another bag that was behind the counter handing it to him. Peter handed him the money. Y/n squatted down and put down Murphy. She petted his head "We will meet again little one."

Peter sighed and pulled on Y/n's arm. He just wanted to get home and sleep. Y/n reluctantly got up and waved to Mr. Delmar. They walk outside and started to make their way to his apartment.

Y/n walked into Peters room and sat down on his bed setting her bags down on his floor. Peter sat on his computer chair and swiveled it to face Y/n. She kicked her feet up on his bed "Pringles or funions?"

Peter took the bag off of his arm and pulled two sandwiches out "Pringles. Here I got you this." They both threw the food at the other one to switch.

As much as Peter didn’t like her, he knew she had to be hungry since she didn’t eat lunch so he got her the same one. Well he will admit Mr. Delmar did have to convince him to get it saying he would give it to him free.

“Can you hang upside down?”

“What?”

“Well I know you can climb up walls and swing like a circus freak but can you hang upside down?”

“Where did this even come from? Are you planning on murdering me?” He took a bite of his sandwich.

“Don’t flatter yourself. As insufferable as you are not even you are worth it. So answer the damn question.” She wiped her hand onto her pants and grabbed her drink and opened it.

“Well I guess technically I can I’ve only done it a few times. The blood doesn’t rush to my head if that was what you were wondering.”

Y/n nodded “How did you even get your powers? Were you born with them?”

“No. We went to a field trip and I got bit by a spider. Passed out and next day woke up being able to do more than a half of pull up.”

Y/n was surprised he was actually answering her questions. She finished her sandwich, balled it up and threw it toward the garbage.

They began to do their project. They mostly tried to ignore each other. Of course it didn’t work and they soon began to argue. One saying one thing the other one disagrees. “Let me do it your aren’t doing it right.”

Y/n groaned and rubbed her forehead. She looked at the time reading 7:30 pm “Don’t you have hero business to get to.”

Peter looked at the time and his eyes went wide. “Oh shit I forgot about that.”

Y/n faked gasped “Peter you just said a no no word.”

Peter ran over to his closet grabbing his suit out “Shut up and get out. Lock the door when you leave.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Part 3

Tags

@fandom-strumpet • @ginger-swag-rapunzel

#peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter x reader #peter paker #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman

[toomanyrobins]

Sugar

Summary: Moving to the small town of Lehigh was supposed to be a quiet escape. But, the local sheriff and his determination to drive you crazy turns your plans right on their head.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Content Warning: some swearing, annoying misunderstandings that would be fixed if people just communicated

Notes: This has not been proofread, so any mistakes are entirely my own. Whoops!

You had just arrived in Lehigh the week before and had been busy moving into your new home on the outskirts. When you’d seen the little cottage, you knew that it was meant to be and used the money grandpa had left when he died to buy it. A few days after moving in the last of the boxes, you wandered through the small town. The help wanted sign in the front of the diner made the job search easy and after a week working as a waitress, you’d settled into a comfortable rhythm. The other waitresses had been kind to her and now you considered Wanda and MJ to be friends. MJ and her boyfriend, Peter, had a young son and she had begged you to take the breakfast shift so that she could be home in the mornings. You had readily agreed, enjoying filling your days with work, and now it was your first morning shift.

You greeted Wanda as she pulled in and together you flipped on the lights and put on music to dance to as you started up the coffee machines and took down the chairs. It wasn’t long before people started coming in. Two men in uniform walked into the diner and sat in one of the booths in MJ’s usual section. You couldn’t stop the little voice in your head from appreciating how attractive they were, but you shut her down. You walked up to the table and plastered on a smile, “Morning, gentlemen. What can I getcha?”

The blonde looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t know you.”

Your internal voice snorted at the obvious statement and you nodded, “And I don’t know you. Now, what can I getcha?”

The dark-haired man did snort at the awkward interaction, “I will have a black coffee and whatever pie you have.”

“Does cherry work?” He nodded and you turned back to his friend, “And you, Officer Stranger?”

“That’s Sheriff Stranger—I mean Rogers—Sheriff Rogers.”

“Alright, Sheriff,” you decided to take pity on the awkward man, “What’ll it be?”

“Toast and black coffee.”

“Right away, Sheriff Stranger,” you flashed him a dazzling smile and went to put his order in.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head, “Well done, Punk. You made a great first impression on the pretty waitress.”

Steve groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, “Thanks, Buck. Appreciate it.”

“Get some coffee in you and try again. Maybe smile this time.”

After that first failed encounter, Steve had come to the diner every morning. For two weeks, he would come and sit in your section. You couldn’t help yourself and continued to call him Sheriff Stranger. It had evolved into a fond nickname, instead of a sarcastic quip. He had taken to sitting at the counter instead of the booths so that he could chat with you as you moved around. He had been surprised by how quick your mind was and it had become the habit for him to read the paper aloud, the two of you going back and forth about whatever the front page was reporting on.

That morning, just like every other morning, he put in his usual order of black coffee and toast. You threw your head back dramatically and groaned, “Stranger, you’re killing me. Variety is the spice of life. How about scrambled eggs? Home fries? A piece of fruit?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at your dramatics, “I like my toast and coffee, Sugar.”

“Fine!” You threw your hands in the air, “It’s your really boring funeral.” Steve chuckled under his breath as he looked back down at the paper. It didn’t take long for you to bring his plate over and when he put the paper down, he choked at the sight of what was on his plate. You meticulously had arranged a bacon smiley face with melon balls for eyes on top of his toast. You skipped away before he could say anything and he was left to stare at the ridiculous breakfast. Steve contemplated calling you over, but dreaded seeing the disappointment in your eyes. Instead, he popped a melon ball in his mouth and when he looked up, you had a massive grin on your face. You purposefully avoided looking over, but both of you knew this was a victory for Y/N.

After that first day, you continued to sneak new things on his plate often. The day after, you brought him his usual coffee and toast, but also put a glass of orange juice down. You winked at him, said something about vitamin C, and walked away to help another customer.

The day after that, it was an omelet with peppers and cheese. Every few days, you would allow him a respite from the over-the-top breakfasts and would bring him toast and coffee, but always added an orange juice to the order, insisting he needed some fruit.

One day when you allowed him to order his boring breakfast, as you’d dubbed it, you pulled the paper away from him, “I have to ask. Is the toast and coffee an indication of the other meals you eat? Because if you’re boiling your chicken, we are gonna have a serious problem.” Steve looked ashamed and you gaped at him, “Oh sweet Jesus! You boil your chicken!” You propped your head up with one hand, “It is flavor? Do you just hate things that taste good?”

“I am busy helping to run this town. I don’t have a lot of time on my hands.”

You looked incredulous, but perked up when you saw someone walk through the door. Steve could see the gears whirring in your head and knew this was not going to be good for him. “Officer Bucky, sir!” you waved him over, “I have a question for you! Answer it right and your meal is on me.”

The dark-haired man looked confused, but figured it didn’t hurt to try his hand at a free meal, “Alright, hit me.”

“What did you make for dinner last night?”

“Ciorba de Perisoare. It’s my mother's recipe for meatball soup. One of Nat’s favorites.”

You grinned victoriously at Steve and tapped the counter where there was a seat available, “That answer gets you one of those potato and cheese omelettes I know you love. Oh, and a slice of cherry pie.” You came back out with Bucky’s delicious looking breakfast and Steve’s sad toast and black coffee. The latter rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, begging God to give him strength to deal with the stubborn young woman who had captured his interest.

“Any chance you can tell me why I’m eating for free?” Bucky asked.

“I boil my chicken,” Steve grumbled.

“What?”

“You’re eating for free because I boil chicken.” Bucky just stared at Steve in disgust and confusion before turning back to his breakfast, shaking his head at the two clueless idiots.

It had been almost three months since you had moved to Lehigh. Once Bucky had told his wife about the pretty waitress at the diner that had ensnared Steve’s attention, Nat had made it her mission to befriend her. She had gone into the diner one day and chatted with you, inviting her to join her friends for a girl’s night. That had been the start of a beautiful friendship that had the redhead trying to sniff out what the feelings were between you and Steve.

At the diner, it had been a long day for you. It was nearly 4 in the afternoon and she was dead on her feet. Nat came flying into the diner, “Sugar, get your best outfit on! We are going out tonight.”

You shook her head at the amount of energy her friend had. All you wanted to do was finish your shift and go home to soak in the claw foot tub you’d just scrubbed clean the day before. You leaned against the counter putting on your best puppy dog eyes, “I have been on my feet since 6 o’clock this morning. The last thing I want to do is go out.”

“It’ll be an easy night, I promise,” Nat hopped onto one of the stools at the counter as you poured her a cup of coffee, decaf of course, “It’ll just be some drinks at the Hideout. Please? First round’s on me.”

You groaned and then nodded, “How could I ever say no to you? I get off in an hour. We getting ready at mine or yours?”

“Mine. I already told Buck that they could meet us there.”

“They?”

“Yeah… Bucky and Steve.”

“Nat, don't tell me this is some setup for a double date.”

The redhead gasped in outrage, “What you must think of me! I just want my friends and I to spend a night out together.” You raised an eyebrow at her friend. Nat held her hands up in defeat, “I promise. No more setups.”

You finished up the last hour of your shift and timed-out. When you walked out, Nat was waiting for her. She drove over to Bucky and her home and they started getting ready. This had become such a common occurrence for the two women that she had taken to leaving a pair of clothes at Nat’s for convenience.

You had opened a bottle of wine while they got ready and by the time the two men arrived, you both had dissolved into giggles. It had not gotten better as the group got to The Hideout. You and Nat were having a great time and the music started playing. The latter had pulled Bucky out of their booth to dance. Steve had slung his arm over the back of the booth and in your inebriated state, you didn’t notice how much either of you had curled against each other. Tucked comfortably in the booth, you people-watched. As the music transitioned into a slower one, he held out his hand, “Dance with me, Sugar?”

“I’d love to,” you laughed as he pulled her out onto the floor. Soon the music slowed, and you were swaying together. Steve had chatted away about his work and you were happy to listen to him speak so passionately. Eventually, you leaned your head against his broad chest, feeling his hand move underneath her shirt. His fingers grazed your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. You felt Steve’s heartbeat speed up and smiled softly to yourself. You weren’t alone the effects of being in such close contact. As the song ended, you lifted her head up and got sucked into his deep blue eyes. Just as you thought he was going to lean down and kiss you, the main door swung open and three women walked in. When Steve saw them, he cleared his throat and stepped back awkwardly. You were left feeling cold and confused as Steve walked away before you could ask him what was wrong. You moved to the bar, wondering if you’d just screwed everything up with that almost kiss. Steve had become the person you were closest to in town and without his company, the loneliness was sure to grow.

Throwing back a shot before heading to the bathroom, you needed a moment to clear her head. You stared into the mirror, wondering how you could fix your mistake. One of the stalls opened revealing one of the women that had come in. She washed her hands and fixed her lipstick before acknowledging you. The smile she gave didn’t reach her eyes. She spun around, “You’re Y/N, right? From the diner?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you were not sober enough to remember if she’s ever been into your work before, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

The blonde looked almost insulted that she wasn’t instantly recognized, “I’m Trish. Steve’s fiancée, Carly, is my best friend.”

You thought you were going to be sick right there on the floor, “Steve has a fiancée?”

“Oh yeah!” Trish explained, “It’s not official yet but she found the ring in his sock drawer a month ago. I’m sure that’s why he hasn’t mentioned it yet. But, it’s coming any day now”

“Right--,” you grabbed a paper towel and dried your hands quickly, “It was nice to meet you. I guess I should get back to my friend.” You hurried out of the bathroom and back to the booth, grabbing your purse and jacket. Thankfully, it seemed that Nat and Bucky were still occupied and you made a quick getaway.

The walk back home was only 20 minutes and as soon as the front door was shut, tears started to well in your eyes. You fanned your face, “Stop it. Stop it. He’s not yours.” Walking into the bathroom, you hated how much Steve had melded into your life. You’d brought paint samples into the diner one day and asked his opinion. Now, the color he picked seemed to mock you. How could she have been so stupid as to let this man in? Of course, he had a girlfriend, soon to be fiancé. Why would he want a waitress who forced her way into his life. God, I’m just a nag. You threw the towel against the wall and curled up in bed, letting yourself wallow in self-pity.

The next morning, Steve didn’t show up for breakfast. Every time the bell above the door chimed, your eyes jumped to see who it was and each time you cursed herself for being that way. Around lunchtime, Nat came in and looked upset. “Why did you leave without saying goodbye last night?”

You plastered on a fake, apologetic smile, “I started to feel sick and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“How did you get home?”

“I walked,” When Nat opened her mouth to scold her about being safer, you shook your head, “I know. I know. It was a stupid idea, but I was drunk. I promise I won’t do it again.”

The redhead nodded and then switched gears. A mischievous grin grew on her face, “You and Steve looked comfy on the dance floor last night.”

You scoffed as you turned to refill a coffee pot, “That’s never gonna happen.”

“But—“

You decided to be blunt, “I know about Carly.”

Nat looked confused, “And because of that you won’t give him a chance?”

“Definitely not. I’m kinda insulted that no one said anything to me.” A family walked in and sat in your section, “I have to get back to work. I’ll see you later.”

When you turned back to put the family’s order in, Nat was gone and it felt like a boulder was weighing on your chest.

It wasn’t until a week after that awful night that Steve deigned to come back to the diner. He looked like a child who’d just been told off by a parent. He took his usual seat at the counter and put his hand on top of yours when you came over, “I’m sorry about last week. Sugar, let me explain.”

You slid your hand out from under his and shook your head, “No need. I know the story now. I’m sorry if I gave off the wrong impression. Let’s just be glad nothing happened. I’ll bring your breakfast around.” When you brought him his meal, Steve felt sick to his stomach. There were no melon ball eyes, no bacon smile, not even a glass of orange juice. Just toast and a black coffee. You walked away before he could say a thing.

The food tasted like sand against his tongue and when he swallowed his last bite, he walked out and left the money on the counter without another word. As soon as he was out of sight, he pulled his cruiser onto the side of the road and threw up the “boring breakfast.” His temper was at an all-time high and he was shouting at everyone in the station. Finally, Bucky walked into his office and shut the door, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I fucked up and it’s unsolvable. I almost kissed Y/N last week, but Carly came in and I freaked out instead. You know how those women are and I thought that if they saw me with Y/N, they’d run her off. Turns out I was right. She said she’d heard enough and is glad that nothing has happened between us.”

Bucky was surprised to hear that. You had seemed too sweet to let something like Carly’s lies get to you. Especially without hearing Steve’s side. He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn, Punk.”

Things did not improve as the weeks went on. First, your greetings had slowed down in their enthusiasm and he missed being called Sheriff Stranger. Steve tried to catch your eye, but you quickly put the plate down and went to another table. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your eyes weren’t as bright and he could see the makeup trying to hide how tired you were. Everything about Y/N was just off.

It was late that night when Steve swung around the back of the diner. The main parking lot was packed and he decided the back was easier. He saw a figure leaning against the wall and figured it was one of the waitresses on a smoke break. As he walked closer, Steve realized it was you and that you were asleep. You’d had walked out back for some air and had fallen asleep against the back wall. Steve shook you awake and you were embarrassed that you’d crashed like that. He pushed a strand of hair out of the way and you winced at the close contact. He pulled his hand back, “What’s going on, Y/N. Did something else happen?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. Steve hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your head up so that your eyes met his. He leaned down and kissed you, instantly making you dizzy. You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moved closer until your back was against the brick, both of you intoxicated with the other.

You were interrupted by someone calling your name inside and you pulled away. With one look back, you hurried back inside. Steve ran a hand through his hair, a grin on his face. Maybe not all was lost if you kissed him back like that. You were the first person he’d been interested in since he’d ended things with Carly. After they’d broken up, she was so angry that she told anyone who would listen about how he couldn’t get it up and was all-around disappointing. One of the downsides of living in a small town was that once something was out, everyone knew. Since their breakup, Steve had been too worried to even try and date someone else. Suddenly, you’d shown up in a hail of melon balls and paint samples and the idea of trying again wasn’t quite so terrifying.

You had gone home that night, the kiss seared in your mind. It felt like you’d just closed your eyes when your alarm went off. It was a rough morning and you were nursing a cup of coffee when you saw Steve, Bucky, and Nat arrive and sit in one of the booths in your section. You groaned when you saw the shit-eating grins on all their faces and walked over to the table, “Morning. What’ll it be?” Bucky and Nat quickly put in their order and then you turned to the blond.

“Waffles.”

You just stared at Steve and slowly brought one hand up to his face. He cheered internally when he felt your cool hand on his forehead, “You don’t have a fever. Are you dying?”

Both Bucky and Nat were dying on the other side of the table. Steve didn’t take his eyes off of you, “Ha. Ha. You’re on me all the time to try something different; so I am.”

The smile that crossed Y/N’s face made it all worth it. She said nothing else, worried he’d change his mind. She put the order in and went to check on her other tables. The minute his breakfast was ready, Y/N brought it over to him, “I won’t force the orange juice on you today. So, your coffee is on me.”

“Sugar, you don’t need to do that. If I didn’t want the waffles I wouldn’t have ordered them.” Nat saw the smile falter at the pet name and decided she was going to get you to talk before she left.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m in charge of your bill. Just say thank you and tell me I’m right.”

“Thank you.”

You tried to stay busy as the trio ate, but you squeaked as Nat came out of nowhere and dragged you into the bathroom, “Spill.” You stammered as you tried to figure out what to say. “I know you and Steve kissed, but when he called you Sugar you looked like you were dying inside. Are you really so shallow that you’re going to let one little rumor from a heinous girlfriend ruin this chance?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m honestly super pissed off that you’d try and set me up with an engaged guy just because you don’t like his fiancee.”

“Who’s fiancee?”

“Steve’s!”

“Steve doesn’t have a fiancee.”

It felt like all the air had deflated from you, “What?

“Steve’s not engaged to Carly. Never was. They broke up over a year ago.”

“I don’t understand. Why would her friend tell me that?”

“Because Carly is a psycho bitch hates to see Steve happy. After they broke up, she told everyone that his little friend was less than great and he sucked in bed. Everyone in town has been talking about the two of you and how cute you guys are. You’re the first woman that he’s gotten the courage to any show interest in since it all happened.

“That…” You couldn’t believe you’d been trapped in such a lie, “BITCH! How could she do that to Steve? He’s like the sweetest guy ever!”

“He thought you’d heard the rumors and that’s why you pulled away.” You were so confused and just stood there. Nat smacked you on the arm, “Well, go out there! Kiss him and tell him that you're both idiots. Go!”

You were practically gnawing at your bottom lip, your stomach in knots. You walked up to the table, “Steve, could we talk?”

“Of course, Sugar.”

Your eyes slid over to Bucky, “Outside?” You grabbed his hand and dragged him out the front door. You bounced your leg as you tried to figure out how to start this, “Um--so--you see--I--.”

“Y/N?”

“Fuck it,” You threw caution to the wind and hooked your finger into Steve’s belt loop, pulling him in for a kiss. He buried his hands in your hair, his tongue tangling with yours. He pulls away, both of you trying to catch your breath. His eyebrows were furrowed and vulnerability and fear shone in his eyes. “I am an idiot,” you blurted out.

“I’m just not quite sure what’s going on. We don’t talk for like two weeks and then I kissed you and you ran away and now you’re kissing me again.”

“I thought you were engaged.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, I know that now. Nat explained everything to me. The actual story. I have half a mind to burn down that bitch, Carly’s, house.”

Steve laughed and wrapped an arm around your waist, “I really don’t want to have to arrest you for arson.”

“Technically, it'll be attempted murde--,” He leaned down and kissed you again, shutting you up. You pulled back and smiled up at him. “I’m taking you out tonight. I’ll tell Nat to come by your place to help you get ready.” You couldn’t help but giggle at how well he knew you.

You turned to walk back into the diner and found every patron plastered against the windows watching you. “Somehow, I think she might already know, Stranger.” Steve just smiled at you and laced your finger together, walking back into the diner where it all began.

#avengers au #avengers imagine #toomanyrobins #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers au #steve rogers #avengers