#and peter was the only one who followed me everywhere

[novelmonger]

Moments That Bring Me Joy: Air Bud

Because Disney+ finally put up Air Bud, I decided I'd do one of these for one of my favorite childhood movies. I have no idea why this movie in particular grabbed my heart and never let go, amongst all the other dog movies I watched. I mean, come on - this is a movie about basketball, for crying out loud! Why would I, who have never had even a smidge of interest in any sport whatsoever, fall in love with a movie about a basketball-playing pooch?

But I did. I loved it almost from the first glimpse of that beautiful golden retriever face (possibly partly because my aunt and uncle had a golden retriever at the time who was the sweetest dog ever). I cried like a baby the first time I watched it (we had to pause for lunch right after Snively takes Buddy, and I could barely eat). I identified with Josh surprisingly strongly, considering I was a girl who had never had a dog or played basketball or lost my dad or anything this kid goes through. But empathized with him really strongly, and for the next year or so, I got through boring schoolwork by daydreaming highly dramatic scenarios involving me training on various sports teams with my imaginary dog Peter. (Peter was a collie, not a golden retriever, but I can definitely point to Air Bud as being the spark of inspiration for him.) Or I think sometimes I would be training Peter for a dog show or something, and he would successfully jump through a hoop or do a trick each time I answered another question in my workbook XD

But anyway, enough about that! Here are the moments in the movie that still give me joy, all these years later (and remember, joy doesn't necessarily mean happiness):

THE OLD DISNEY LOGO! Oh gosh, the nostalgia! *_* I think I got this movie for my seventh birthday or something. That was such a long time ago....

"Fernfield, Where Everything Is Possible." What a town motto XD

"Hey, kids, it's Happy Slappy Time!"

All of the unimpressed expressions on the audience during the disastrous clown antics XD The extras in this movie are just. The Best.

All the cows watching Buddy through the fence after he falls off the truck. Simple humor, but effective. Love it.

Oh gosh, who does the music in this thing?! ...Brahm Wenger. Never heard of him, but the soundtrack in this movie is incredible. Way better than it needed to be, but we're hardly 8 minutes into the movie and I'm already noticing it. Mr. Wenger, you were wasted on all those Air Buddies movies.

When Josh is walking past the kids playing basketball, running his fingers along the chain-link fence. I can't quite put it into words, and I certainly couldn't then, but I remember sitting in the living room at seven years old, seeing that for the first time and thinking, "That's me." The best I can explain it is it's something about being on the outside looking in.

Just realized the first word we hear Josh say is "sucks" XD

When Josh breaks down the rotten fence and the music swells as we get that gorgeous view of the lake(?)

There's nothing like seeing a sad little boy and a sad little dog bonding and having fun for the first time in forever <3

*right after Buddy has utterly destroyed the living room* Josh: "So...can I keep him?" Mom: 😒

Josh's mom letting him keep Buddy as a Christmas present :')

"Sigmund twins moved to Canada, God knows why." - I don't remember this line at all, but it makes me laugh now XD

That doggy smile Buddy gives Josh the first time he makes a basket ^_^

That "well, crap" look on the coach's face when he realizes he has to put Josh on the team after embarrassing him in front of everybody, because Josh is that good of a player

I just really like the fat referee. He's having the worst night of his life, and I want to give him a hug and tell him it'll be okay XD

I take a vicious sort of joy in the rightness of the first coach getting caught red-handed in the abusive way he punishes Tom for fumbling the ball, and Coach Chaney taking over instead.

Man, the music in this movie! It turns a simple scene of the new middle school mascot doing a trick into a heroic moment of sheer triumph, followed by that montage of them winning games that just makes you want to get up and cheer.

Josh's mom coming out the morning after Snively takes Buddy away, and finding a newspaper on her driveway for the first time...I like the subtle touch.

"I don't want my dog to do beer commercials. I got ethics!" *30 seconds later* "Out of curiosity, how much are we talking for one of those beer commercials?"

Snively's unbelievably terrible truck - and driving XD Plus his pathetic little "No, I needed that!" when the steering wheel falls off :P

The whole scene where Josh lets Buddy go. Yes, that scene brings me joy - and I'm tearing up, even though I can't even count how many times I've seen this movie and know perfectly well that everything will turn out fine very shortly! It's just so perfectly done, showing their bond and providing an opportunity for Josh to explain what he's doing even though there's no one with him except for a dog. And that music, I just...it's in my soul. It's the heart's cry of the little girl I used to be, lonely and wishing I could have a dog that wasn't just in my imagination, because that was the only kind of friend I could imagine having. And that bit where the music is swelling and Buddy is racing after Josh through the brambles and dead bushes...I can point to that moment as the beginning of the many, many daydreams I would have about my imaginary dog Peter as I'd gaze out the window of a moving vehicle.

"Ain't no rule says a dog can't play basketball!"

"Hey, Water Boy...nice shot." - I FORGOT ABOUT THAT!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!! Even Larry has to finally acknowledge Josh is a good player!

The whole trial is so silly, but somehow...lovably so? I'm not sure if that would be the case to someone who's actually a lawyer, though ^^' But it's just so full of fun moments:

"What is that dog doing in the courthouse?" "That's the, uh...child, sir." "That's a pretty ugly kid."

"I will not have my courtroom turned into a circus." *literal clown walks in*

"I'm the plaintiff." "You look like an idiot."

"Who are you, Barnum or Bailey?" "Arthur Chaney, Your Honor."

"Mr. Chaney, during my forty years on the bench, I have heard a lot of lame-brained, cockamamie proposals. But this one...I like."

"Case closed! Thank God."

Oh, interesting! I never noticed before, but in the credits, right under the note about "no animals were harmed," there's a note that says, "No special visual effects were used in the basketball sequences of this Motion Picture."

And again, that soundtrack! I can guarantee you, if seven-year-old me had known soundtracks were a thing, I would have begged and pleaded to get my hands on the Air Bud soundtrack, and I would have worn it out completely as I daydreamed about my adventures with my imaginary dog. You know...I still might see if I can get it, because the music alone brings me so much joy ^_^

[notanactressyayy]

—𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞—

pairing. ex! Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary. in a day you simply wanted peace, two unexpected visitors showed up. for one of them, you were glad.

warnings. smut! I am NOT responsible for your content consumption! — making out, thigh riding, strap on usage, cursing, angst (w happy ending), soft dom Nat.

notes. my first language is portuguese, so I apologize for any grammar errors. feel free to give me advice, though!

divider credits: @cafekitsune ★

Natasha Romanoff was known as a cold, ruthless woman, who never cared for anyone besides herself. Most of the people didn't know this was due her past — the Red Room was always in complete secrecy, so they feared her. She was already used to it. Whenever she started something with someone, in the next day, she had an empty bed as a gift. To be completely honest, she always felt used. Men and women touched her, to leave her in the morning.

That changed when she met you.

You could say you'd changed her completely, for the best, of course. She became more open with you, learned to express herself better and was not known as the most selfish Avenger in the team anymore.

But just like people say, not everything is a bed of roses.

Instead of using that achievement to improve your relationship, she began to care a little too much about her team of superheroes. At some point, she was no longer paying attention to you.

Reports this, reports that. Missions and more missions. "I have to go somewhere with Cap." "I have to train with Tony to a mission." "I can't, I'll have to go with Clint."

When you confronted her about this, begging for her to understand and willing to help her change, she decided that it was a better option to part ways. You were devasted, and she saw it. That made her heart ache — someone actually lov— liked her enough to want to stay.

This was the one and only reason Natasha didn't forget about you. The only reason she thought about you everyday. The only reason she teared up whenever entering her car and seeing the polaroid with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on her rearview mirror, that she didn't dare to take down.

Today, you were leaving work, heavy tired steps echoing on the pavement's wooden floor as the moonlight illuminated the room. The building was already empty, the streets, darker than your thoughts.

As you started walking to the nearest bus stop, you heard quick footsteps behind you — it was already late and usually there was no people on the streets like this. You turned your head, "you gotta be kidding me".

"Hey, Y/n!" Peter exclaimed, running to catch up with you. "I didn't know you were going to be here at 11:30pm."

You rolled your eyes and took a sharp inhale, but like always, tried to be polite. This so called coworker of yours was always looking at you, following you everywhere, and asking you things, not always work-related. You always made it clear that you weren't interested in men, and he insisted on saying he could 'change your mind'.

"Hey, Peter." you replied, faking a smile and nodding. "You need me to review your documents again?"

"Oh, no. I was just wondering if you wanna go on a date with me. Did you see the restaurant that just opened over there? I could treat you to—"

"No, I don't." you cut him off, more harshly than you intended to. "Look, Peter, I'm sorry. But I don't want anything to do with you, alright? So if you want, go ahead and find somebody else."

You shook your head, not even waiting for his reply and picking up the pace again, quickly rushing to the bus stop. That's when the guy showed you a side that you just suspected, but preferred to believe he didn't have

"C'mon, Y/n." he grabbed your arm, nails digging into your skin. "You won't broke my heart, will you? You're such a gentle, beautiful, kind woman. You will give me a chance."

You cleared your throat, feeling him get closer, and thinking about a certain Red Head — how she would gently, delicately graze your skin with her fingers, so softly whispering into your ear and bringing you to her embrace—

"Back off."

"Oh, no." he laughed. Such a creep. "I won't back off. And if you don't cooperate, I'll make you give me a chance."

Your hands trembled now, silently praying to whoever was seeing this just call the cops or do something. You didn't know the guy anyway. He didn't talk to anyone at work beside you, and you never got to know him, you would never. That's when it would be a good use to have a spy girlfriend. Just the last thing you expected to happen was to hear the sound of a gun cocking behind you, and a very familiar female voice.

"She said back off."

Relief unconsciously washed upon you as your arm was released, only because of the gun, though. You knew that if if wasn't for her, who knows what could've happened there. Peter left, annoyed, but the Russian swore to herself that she'd make his life a living hell.

"... Natasha?" you whisper, turning around with a confused and even scared frown.

"Yes," she worriedly rubbed your arm, shooting you, slowly making the feeling of the disgusting hand fade away. "Are you okay?"

"I am..." you nodded subtly, leaning into her touch. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I saw a woman being harassed. What was I supposed to do? Mind my business?" she said, obviously avoiding your question.

"You know this is not what I mean." you frowned, carefully letting go of her caress and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Natasha sighed, trying to think of a way to explain herself. 'Oh, I'm here because I miss you so much I can't even sleep anymore.'? No, it wouldn't do.

"I... followed you."

"Oh, great, so I'm being stalked twice today." you hissed, making Natasha look down with your harshness.

"No, Y/n.. I'm here for.. personal reasons. I saw you leaving work, and I noticed that guy following you. I decided to follow too, until he grabbed you and I knew I had to intervine." she explained quietly.

The fact she had said 'personal reasons' deeply hurt you, but you couldn't do anything, you had broken up after all. You nodded, and prepared yourself to walk tp the bus stop again.

"Wait," Natasha quickly stopped you, her eyebrows furrowed. "I won't let you go home like this."

This was something about the old Natasha you knew, the protective one. It was okay, you were tired, and a ride would be no harm. "Where's your getaway car?"

She smiled softly at your joke, and tilted her head. "Around the corner."

You two walked silently towards the vehicle, as she unlocked the doors with the keys and you entered the passenger seat. You threw your bag on the backseat before you could focus on the environment around you, and see the polaroid of you and Nat with the heart pendant you gave her hanging on the rearview mirror.

Natasha noticed your gaze as soon as she entered the driver seat, clearing her throat and starting the car's engine. "Couldn't bring myself to take those down."

You stayed silent, but your eyes could tell everything. I'm glad. Oh, I'm so glad.

Natasha remembered your address as if you hadn't broken up nine months ago, and when you reached your place, you too much disappointed for your own good.

"Thank you for the lift," you whispered, turning your body to be able to grab your bag from the backseat — in the exact same moment Natasha turned to unbuckle her seatbelt — your fronts touching, which made you two a little startled.

The problem was that you didn't pull away, neither of you. You slowly turned your head to meet Natasha's gaze, your face so close to hers you could feel her breath. Familiar. It was pure instinct, almost muscle memory, of the times she always kissed you goodbye when dropping you somewhere.

You didn't even notice your hand going up to hold the back of her neck, much less when she placed her hand on your thigh, and leaned in so your noses brushed. Natasha closed her eyes for a brief moment, almost savouring your closeness, your aura enveloping her once more. Then your lips barely, barely grazed, breath hitching, as she couldn't take it anymore.

The redhead pressed her lips against yours, giving them a long peck. It was surprising how much time you lasted without air. You didn't break the kiss, just darted the tip of your tongue out to lick her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She gave in, trying to pull you closer but being stopped by the goddamn control panel. As soon as you felt her tongue touching yours you realized that this was going too far. You pulled back harshly, leaving you two panting for air and a disappointed Nat.

"Do you..." you shakily breathed. "... wanna come in?"

"Mhm." Natasha hummed, turning off the engine. "Can I?"

You didn't answer, just opened the door and slipped out the car. As you entered, you could practically feel Natasha's eyes burning the place. How you didn't take down any picture of yours. How her stuff was spreading across the pavement. It gave her a sense of... hope? Of course, since she was in the same situation.

"So.. are you seeing anyone?" you asked her while kicking off your heels and leaving them by the door.

"I think you know the answer for that." the redhead practically hissed, making your head snap towards her.

"But I want you to say it." you retreated. "I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn't forget me. I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me the reason of why you came to my town again and followed me when I left work. I want you to tell me the reason of why you kissed me just like we always did before."

"I didn't! I didn't forget you, Y/n!" Natasha snapped, looking away and tucking the loosen strands of hair of her braids behind her ears. "I didn't forget you and I never did. Alright? Happy now?"

"Is that so?" you laughed humorlessly, crossing your arms. "I thought you cared more about your superheroes buddies. Where are they now!?"

"I left them." Natasha replied, looking at you again with a mixture of anger and pain. "I left them and came back, to you, Y/n."

You froze at her words, swallowing your saliva. "... okay?"

"I came back here, because I wanted to at least a chance to explain myself. I wouldn't be able to live knowing that I hurt you, and that you think that I did it on purpose. So please, just give me a chance."

"...go on."

Natasha sighed in relief, exhaling the air she was holding. "I'm sure you know my story. You were the first one to know everything about it, about me. And I'm also sure you know you're the first one to ever love me. No one else ever loved me like you did."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, listening carefully to her words, ready to give her time and patience, like you usually did.

"... I didn't know what I was doing, Y/n. Every other relationship I had, ended in less than a week. Love is a weapon and it's letal for me, for people like me. I was, I am startled by all of this, by this fuzzy warm feeling that you always gave me, that you still do, in my thoughts.. the Avengers were my first family, and when I panicked, I tried to hang on to them. In order not to hurt you, and myself." she didn't even realize the tear rolling down her cheek, and shook her head. "That's it. I'm sorry for everything, but Y/n, you will always have a piece— you'll always have my whole heart in your hands. I'll get off your hair n—"

You couldn't. Not anymore. You rushed towards her and grabbed her face, cutting her off with a deep kiss. She was taking aback, but her hands traveled to your waist, pulling you flush against her, your fronts pressing. Nothing changed. Natasha pushed you backwards against your room's door, her tongue entering your mouth and dancing with yours. You could feel yourself getting lost in her, damn it, once more. It was like she had this spell on you — you were trapped, and didn't complain.

"Y/n," the russian uttered, hands slipping inside your shirt and giving your waist a squeeze. "I've got to have you again, at least for one last time. Please, just this once—"

Tired of her rambling, you smirked and grabbed her by the jacket, pulling her into a kiss again and dragging her into the room, slamming the door shut. Natasha took this as a 'yes', and her hands, under you shirt, went to unclasp your bra, making it fall to the ground and a groan of relief escape your throat. Before she could remove the rest of the fabric of your body, you stopped her, pushing her down to the bed.

"I always wanted to do that," you started to slowly, so slow that it almost tortured her take off your clothes, stripteasing for her.

"Shit, Y/n." she quickly started to get rid off her jacket, snd everything else she was wearing. You were careful not to trip on the pile of clothes on the floor, and walked over to her again, straddling her leg on the edge of the bed.

Natasha's hand grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place and it didn't take two seconds before you started to grind on her. "Nat," you breathed, arms going to circle her neck.

"Who else touched you like this while I was away?" she growled in your ear, pressing your body against hers. "Answer me,"

"No one," you whined, giving her a subtle shake of your head. "No one, Natty. J-just myself,"

"My poor girl," Nat began to roam her hands up your sides, her lips pressing kisses on your jawline, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help,"

"You're here now..!" you gasped, your movements faster, as she began to move her thigh to stimulate you more.

"And I don't plan on going away," Natasha murmured, tilting your head to look at her in the eyes. Even in your high, you could make sense of her words, and the weight they beared.

"Nat!" you moaned, closing your eyes shut. "I need... please.. I—I need you, inside me."

Natasha almost lost her mind with that, grabbing your hips and pinning you down to the bed. She reached her arm out for the drawer that she hoped your strap still was, and luckily, she was right. "I'm gonna fuck you like never before, Y/n." she attached the silicone cock to her hips with urgency, holding your hips in place as she ran the tip of it across your folds, making you whine in need.

"Don't tease me," you gently gripped her arms on your hips and looked at her with dreamy eyes. She couldn't resist — but your walls were so tight she had to put a little effort to enter you.

"Holy fuck, baby." she moved her hand to brush your hair behind your ear, giving you a little time to get used to the length. "So fucking tight for me,"

"I—" you breathed, interrupted when Nat started to slowly move in and out you, her red hair falling into your face. You moaned, putting her hair up in a makeshift ponytail and with your free hand, holding her neck. "God, I missed you,"

Natasha pounded faster in you with those words, your moans only getting louder by the second. She grabbed one of your legs and placed it over her shoulder, allowing her to hit your g-spot repeatedly. You thumb went to your mouth, wetting it and starting to rub her clit — she couldn't say she expected that, her soft moans saying everything.

"Cum with me," you breathlessly requested, eyes fluttering close. Natasha didn't have to be asked twice. Her hips slammed into yours, the wet sounds of her thrusting echoing the room. "Natty!"

You back arched, head thrown backwards as your orgasm hit you. Natasha's legs shook, her weight falling onto you and your arms immediately wrapping around her, keeping her close.

"Don't make me go away,"

"I could never."

[dilf-lover99]

And I Love Her | J.P.

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Summary: The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Warnings: so. much. pining., idiots to lovers, miscommunication(s), a dash of angst, some heavy kissing, james potter being the literal definition of boyfriendism

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: hi ! james potter won the poll and i am so completely okay with it. i really intended for this to be angst but he's just SO boyfriend. this may be my favorite thing i've ever written and i really hope you enjoy it too ! p.s. i missed u guys lots and i'm so grateful you've stuck around after months of crickets from me. love u love u love u<3

(y/n).

Depending on who you asked, it was only a name. The name of a classmate, or a friend, or yourself, but only a name nonetheless.

Unless you asked James Potter.

It wasn’t only a name. Not to him. To James, it was everything.

Because it was your name.

Your name that hastened his heartbeat with every mention.

Your name that sent a salient stream of blood rushing to his cheeks, tinting them a lucent shade of scarlet.

Your name that, once mentioned, seemed to follow him everywhere, as though the wind itself would begin whispering it, rustling alongside the branches of the whomping willow tree before floating its way over to his ears, sounding sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard before.

To state it simply, James Potter was irrevocably, inconceivably, in love with you.

But saying it that way didn’t seem like enough.

He didn’t just love you with his heart, for his heart could stop beating. And he didn’t only love you with his mind, for his memories could fail him one day. James Potter loved you with the entirety of his soul, with every fibre making up his being. Of that, he was certain.

What he wasn’t certain of however, was how to bare his infatuated soul to you.

After all, how exactly does one tell his best friend he’s besotted with her?

He tried the gentle approach first. 

The train back to Hogwarts was filling up quickly. Stories of his peers’ summer holidays flow obstreperously through the air as James’ eyes remain glued to the door of him and his friends’ usual compartment.

“Ease off it with the evil eye, Prongs. She’ll be here.” Sirius’ teasing voice breaks James away from his thoughts, which were unsurprisingly fixated on you.

He doesn’t bother denying it, well aware he’s been staring daggers at the door since he stepped foot off platform 9 ¾, anxiously awaiting your appearance after spending the entire summer holiday apart from you.

“Leave him be, Pads. He misses her.” Remus interjects kindly, not lifting his eyes from the well-worn pages of whichever book he’s decided to burrow his attention into for the ride back to Hogwarts.

“Well he can join the bloody club then, can’t he?” Sirius starts, intent on ignoring Remus’ suggestion, “I’ve just about fallen for her myself after spending my entire holiday listening to this git recite his bloody sonnets for her,” he continues with a not-so flattering mimicry of a lovesick James, “It is the east! And (y/n) is the sun. O Romeo!” He throws himself dramatically to the floor on his knees, clasping his hands above his heart.

Peter watches the spectacle with a grin, covering up his chuckle with a cough after James sends him a look of warning. Before James can defend himself against Sirius’ melodrama, the door to their compartment slides open, revealing a beautiful and slightly out of breath you.

And suddenly you’re not the only one who’s out of breath.

You’ve gotten even prettier over the summer, somehow. If somebody had asked James before, if he thought you could possibly have gotten any more beautiful, he’d’ve laughed in their face, telling them tales of how your beauty could put Aphrodite to shame. But now? Now his heart was beating so violently in his chest he was almost certain it was attempting to escape, trying to take its rightful place upon your sleeve.

“Sorry I’m late, I nearly broke my neck out there!” You stop briefly to catch your breath, the jog on your way over winding you more than you’d care to admit. “Someone ought to tell those first-years there’s enough seats on here for the lot of us. I’ve just been walloped by a bloody eleven year old! Cheeky little-” You cease your rambling amidst your confusion at the sight before you, Sirius on his knees at James’ feet.

“Have I interrupted something? Perhaps a proposal of sorts?” You jest, your amusement growing at the wide eyed look on James’ face as he scrambles to stand, coming to greet you properly with a hug that doesn’t last nearly as long as you wish it would.

“No!” He protests instantly, amidst wrapping you in the soft embrace.

“Cor, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles after pulling away, leaving a hand on your back as he gently guides you to your seat beside him, hesitant to do so, as once you’re sat he’ll no longer have an excuse to touch you.

“I missed you more!” Your enthusiasm brings him optimism, there’s a chance she means it the way you do, he thinks, there’s a chance-

“And what of me?” Sirius and his bloody interjections. James has half a mind to lock him out of the ruddy compartment and leave him to fend for himself amongst the overzealous first-years.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You feign confusion, though not very well, James can see the brilliant smile forming leisurely upon your lips. What I would do to those lips, his thoughts are running rampant after a summer spent away from your presence, too caught up to hear the jokes you and Sirius are trading back and forth, and that laugh! His internal monologue continues, ’s like a proper bloody song. Just ask her, right now. If she says no you can play it off as a joke. It might sting a bit, but surely it’d be better than keeping it all locked away.

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me? Just us two? We’ll have a lovely time, I swear it.”

He knows what he was hoping you’d say, something along the lines of ‘Yes, James, I’d love to!’ but he wasn’t expecting it.

He also wasn’t expecting your given response.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Jamie, thank you! D’you see that, Sirius? A helpful suggestion. You ought to try one of those sometime.” You’re back to chatting with Sirius and Remus as Peter leans over to James, whispering an explanation to his visibly confused friend.

James had caught you mid-complaint about how you’d forgotten to bring the dittany leaves you need to make the special healing chocolates you gift Remus after a particularly bad full moon. After Sirius’ not-so-helpful suggestion to try substituting them with pot leaves, you gladly welcomed the chance to pop over to Hogsmeade with James and buy some more.

You’d mistaken his date proposal for a shopping trip.

Marvellous.

This is going to be the year that James tells you how he feels. He’ll make sure of it.

If for no other reason than this was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts together. His stomach churned at the mere idea of allowing you to slip through his fingers for good; you acting as the coarse sand to his adamant hourglass. He wouldn’t have it.

So he’d try again.

In the few weeks since you’ve returned to Hogwarts, your time’s been consumed by studying for your N.E.W.T.s. You’re also determined to acquire a spot in the internship programme at St. Mungo’s. The sheer amount of time you’ve spent there with your boys over the last few years has more than prepared you for a future as a healer if you end up enjoying the work.

“Alright, who was the first witch to extract floo powder?” James has spent the last hour and a half quizzing you on all matters Herbology, if it were anyone else he’d’ve been bored to slumber by now. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you.

The two of you were sat outside together on a blanket, taking full advantage of the uncharacteristically sunny day. James is leaned comfortably back against a tree as you sit across from him, simultaneously taking notes and answering each of his questions without pause.

“Ignatia Wildsmith. Ravenclaw. Come ‘ead James, I’ve told you to stop going easy on me! Every seventh-year applying will know all of these.” Bloody lucky I love her so much, James thinks to himself, I thought that was a hard one.

He’d like to laugh your nerves away, crack a few jokes and tell you that you may be going a bit overboard. You’re going to get the internship, and not just because you’re brilliant and perfectly qualified, but also because your Herbology professor had written a glowing recommendation letter singing your praises.

But he can’t find it in himself to mess around when you’ve got that adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows displaying your worry, and your lips have turned down into a delectably kissable pout. It takes nearly everything in him not to brush it away with his own lips. 

“(y/n),” He starts, wetting his lips with his tongue as he desperately attempts to keep his thoughts from overtaking his voice, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re more than ready for this. Why don’t we try taking a little break?” His heart feels as though it’s leapt into his throat when you glance at him and send a delicate smile of gratitude.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. We’ve been at this for hours, you must be exhausted of me by now.” You smile, more cheerful this time as you realize a break is precisely what you need.

James can’t contain the laugh that escapes him.

Exhausted? Of you? 

The absurdity of thinking he could ever grow tired of you was an inherently laughable concept to him.

He’s nearly clutching his stomach when he finally manages to compose himself, making heart-stopping eye contact with his equally amused and puzzled best friend.

“Are you mad?” James’ dimpled smile sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies aflutter in your stomach, “I’d spend all my hours with you if I could.” He means it with every atom that makes up his being, he’s meant it for years but now he’s actually saying it to you.

Your smile grows wider with each word he speaks, your own thoughts matching the underlying sentiment of his articulation more than he could ever know.

“I-” He pauses, inhaling deeply and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an effort to maintain his courage, “I love you.” You did it, he thinks to himself proudly, you actually bloody did it, Prongs! He exhales shakily, reinitiating eye contact with you as a small smile begins to blossom on his tender lips.

“James,” Your voice holds an underlying tone of sadness that causes an adorable crinkle of confusion to settle between James’ eyebrows, “I love you too.” You smile tightly, almost as though it’s causing you discomfort to do so.

“You do?” James is more perplexed now than he had been when you’d explained to him in painstaking detail the intricate relationships between each member of Fleetwood Mac the first time the two of you listened to Rumours together.

“Of course I do,” Your smile stretches intimately, the somber quality of your voice never wavering, “You’re my best mate, after all.”

Best mate? James thinks, is that really all she sees?

Had he not been so caught up in his own racing thoughts, he may have picked up on yours. He may have realized that his situation was holding a gargantuan mirror up to your own, casting a perfect reflection of the feelings within.

Best mates, you internally chastise yourself, that’s all he sees.

A proper bloody mirror.

“It was completely humiliating, Pads. She might as well’ve called me her bloody brother.” James has been yammering on about what happened that day for the past three weeks. Three weeks. Sirius is going positively mad, somehow having become James’ sounding board to rehash his complaints every time he remembers the encounter.

“I mean, how am I supposed to tell the girl I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her now?” James is pacing back and forth agitatedly at the foot of Sirius’ bed, as the aforementioned boy lays back uninterestedly, wishing his duvet would come to life and swallow him whole in an effort to escape the worlds most redundant conversation.

“She’d probably tell you that sounds lovely. Make you her future child’s godparent.” Sirius jokes dryly.

James abandons his invisible footpath, a wave of panic comically widening his warm hazel eyes substantially.

“She what?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Prongs! I can’t take any more of this,” Sirius sits up agitatedly, now far beyond his capacity for James’ lovesick commentaries, “Just go tell her. Right now.”

“Are you mad? Have you not just heard everything I’ve said?” James would normally find humour in Sirius’ lackadaisical attitude, but confessing his feelings for you was an entirely serious matter with no margin for error.

“Oh I’ve heard it, Prongs. For the past three weeks. And the entire bloody summer. And every single year before that.” He moves to stand in front of James, his agitation fading into sincerity, “I know how you feel, Prongs. But does she?” James swallows thickly as Sirius continues, “I don’t mean just telling her you love her, I mean telling her how you love her. As more than a friend. Maybe she feels the same way.”

James takes his time considering Sirius’ words. He’s tried to tell you, clearly, but he assumed that you’d only seen him as a friend. But what if you hadn’t? What if Sirius is right, and you told him you loved him as a friend because you’d assumed that’s what he’d meant when he said it?

“I’m a proper git, aren’t I?” James concludes aloud.

“Most certainly, Prongsy. It’s why I keep you around,” Sirius’ playful mood returns swiftly, “Makes me feel better about myself.” 

You’re talking softly with Remus in the library, voices low enough not to disrupt your peers but just detectable enough for James to catch your words when he finds you, internally preparing his declaration of unwavering devotion for you.

“You’re not going out with him, are you?” Remus’ hushed voice holds a curious tone.

“Of course not, Rem.” You smile softly, “Could you honestly imagine that? Him and I dating?”

James’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion, he presses himself slightly against a nearby bookshelf in an attempt to hear your conversation more clearly.

“No, I guess not,” Remus chuckles faintly, “It would certainly make things awkward if they didn’t work out. Being friends and all.” 

“No kidding.” You chuckle good-naturedly. 

James feels like a bag of cement has been poured down his throat, constricting his lungs and settling into a block of concrete in the pit of his stomach.

Sirius had been wrong. You didn’t love James as more than a friend, in fact, you’d practically laughed at the thought of it. In his hasty escape from the scene of the melancholic crime, James neglected to hear the rest of your conversation with Remus.

“He’s a lovely lad, truly,” You smile genuinely, “Any girl would be lucky to call Amos Diggory her boyfriend. We’re just better as friends is all.” You trail off, leaving out the part where your heart already belongs to another shared friend of yours and Remus’.

It’s not like it was ever going to happen anyway. Your love for James Potter was entirely unreciprocated.

Wasn’t it?

James is avoiding you.

As painful as it is to spend each never-ending moment of spare time away from you, James can only think of how much more agonizing it would be to spend those moments with you.

To fix his loving gaze on your sparkling eyes, only to find them filled with affections one would hold only for a friend.

To accomplish the feat of bringing a luminous smile to your delicate lips, only to remember those lips would never brush tenderly against his own.

To be so close to the girl he loves, only to be denied her heart in equal measure.

It’s easier, in a sense, to push you away.

It’s only temporary, just until he can stomach the thought of spending the rest of his life as your best mate and nothing more.

But it’s been weeks, and the idea still makes his head feel like it’s underwater, like he’s fighting to reach the surface but his leg’s been caught on a viciously determined blade of seaweed.

Still, he’s convinced himself that this is his best course of action.

Unbeknownst to James, however, you’ve been going stark raving mad.

You’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. When you think about it, you’ve barely even seen him, save for a few quick glimpses in your classes and across the dining tables in the Great Hall.

You’ve tried to talk to him, clearly something is bothering him. Maybe you’ve said or done something to upset him without realizing it. But he’d brushed you off before you could even get out the words ‘are you alright?’

You’d asked Remus, Sirius, and Peter about it, each of them giving you vague semblances of justification that fell entirely flat, a few “He’s just busy with quidditch”s and a couple of “Must be studying today”s. You’ve grown tired of the excuses and you’re determined to get to the bottom of it yourself.

You’re leaning picturesquely against the wall outside of the lad’s changing room when James finally sees you again. His curly hair is spilling droplets of water from the shower he’s just taken, successfully washing away the evidence of his quidditch practice.

You’re beautiful. That’s all he can think as he finally allows himself to take you in fully for the first time in weeks. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since he saw you last and now he can finally exhale, a sense of euphoria filling his chest as his lungs deflate mercifully.

“Hi.” You state gently, a delicate smile painted daintily across your lips.

“Hi.” James echoes once he’s relearned the inhale-exhale repetition of breathing again.

“I waited for you,” You start after a brief silence, “Which- You can see that, obviously.” You chuckle a ebullient breath that causes a small smile to form on James’ face, Merlin, I’ve missed that, he thinks as you continue. “I just, um- I thought maybe we could talk?” You’re fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours that James has long since memorized by now.

He instantly reaches for your hands, tenderly taking one in his own and carefully intertwining your fingers together with his. The action is like second nature, he hardly thinks twice about it.

You smile visibly at the act of comfort, if he’s upset with you and that’s the reason he’s been avoiding you, it makes your heart skip a beat that he’s putting it all aside to calm you down when you’re anxious.

“About what?” He tries, though you both know that’s not going to work.

“Nice,” You smile teasingly, “Want to give it a real go this time?”

James swallows something akin to a lump in his throat, averting his resplendent hazel gaze from your eyes to land somewhere along the floor as he overthinks which approach he should take.

He could try honesty. Yes, he thinks, because that would go over proper well. I’m avoiding you cause I’ve been gutted since I heard you’re not in love with me. Surely she’ll find that real mature, Prongs.

He could also try lying his arse off. And that would work, he sarcastically chastises silently, Me? Oh nothing’s wrong at all. Just tired, y’know? Practice and homework and the like. As if she’s ever believed a lie you’ve told her before.

He finally chances resuming eye contact with you, heartbeat hastening expeditiously as his hazel orbs lock onto your patently awaiting eyes. You should be looking far more frustrated, James wouldn’t blame you if you were. You have every right to be upset, and yet you’re not.

Instead, you’re you. 

You, who’s calmly awaiting a response, fingers still gently intertwined with James’. 

You, who’s looking at him with soft, sparkling eyes, eyes that are silently promising him no matter what he says, everything is going to be alright.

You, the girl he loves more than anything in the world.

“You.” He states after an implicit eternity.

“Me?” Your features mix together to create a perfectly darling display of confusion that, even despite the circumstances, causes a modest smile to tug upwards at the corners of James’ mouth.

“I’ve been avoiding you.” He conveys, sounding as though he’s just revealed to you a hidden secret you’d’ve never otherwise been able to uncover.

You can’t contain the short laugh that escapes you, a smile taking its rightful place on your face. “Yeah, ‘m not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but I managed to put that one together.”

James can’t subdue the traces of guilt that seep onto his face.

“I was hoping maybe we could talk about why. If I’ve done something to upset you-”

“No!” James cuts you off, “No, love, you haven’t done anything. Nothing you could control anyway.” His voice is less than half of its usual volume at the last sentence he utters.

Your face is back to holding that adorably confused expression that James so desperately yearns to kiss away.

“I have to admit, Jamie, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”

James sighs, finally releasing the hand that’s been holding comfortably on to your own and running it through his leisurely drying hair. He releases a sigh of distress and squeezes his eyes shut firmly in an attempt to figure out the best way to explain himself.

“If you’re not upset with me, then why have you been avoiding me?” You’re trying to put it together on your own as James is proving to be no help, “Wait a mo! Is this some kind of prank or something?” You smile, though you’re not entirely certain you’re correct yet, “Are you trying to get back at me for dying your knickers pink? Because that was an accident!” 

James can’t help but smile at your incorrect deduction. Merlin she’s adorable he thinks, how am I supposed to tell her now?

“Yes!” James concludes untruthfully, “You got me. Just a prank. Might’ve gone a bit too far with it though. Sorry ‘bout that, love.”

He brings you into a hug and, after going weeks without it, it feels like home.

You feel like home.

You’re hugging James, after having just gone weeks without it. And you just know. 

You have to tell him.

You have to tell him, right now, that you’re in love with him.

And so you do.

“I love you.” You state breathlessly, pulling away from the warm solace of his embrace and looking bravely into his glimmering hazel eyes.

James nods his head mechanically, as if he’s agreeing to your suggestion on what to have for dinner and not taking in the confession of eternal love you’ve just spouted.

“Yes, I love you too,” He smiles a tight, strained smile, “Mate.” He punctuates his final word by bumping his fist gently into your shoulder.

Oh, you think, I’m going to have to spell it out for him, aren’t I?

“No, James. I love you,” You take a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact despite the nerves that are jostling around your insides like a violent sea in a raging storm, taking a deep breath before exhaling somewhat expeditiously, you continue, “Like- Like, I’m in love with you.”

The first thing James feels in that moment are his eyes widening emphatically behind his round-rimmed glasses, his dark lashes making direct contact with the top of his eyelids. He’s certain he must have heard you wrong, that or he’s understood you wrong.

The second thing he feels is hope. What if he hadn’t understood you wrong?

The third thing he feels is his heart, beating faster than it ever has before, so fast he thinks it might be ready to do him in for good. Surely a heart shouldn’t be beating that fast.

“You’re in love? With me?” James speaks disbelievingly, though he’s unable to hide the traces of optimism he’s feeling as a modest smile begins to form on his face.

You nod your head assuredly, a genial smile of your own starting at the sight of his, “Yes, I’m in love with you. Madly, in fact.”

You’ve spent months, years even, deliberating on how you would tell James, if you would tell James. You’d spent countless hours wondering how he would react and what would happen after all was said and done.

You’d planned to tell him all about that. About how long you’ve felt this way, when it started and why it’s taken you so long to tell him, how you were too afraid of risking your best friend should anything have gone wrong.

What you hadn’t planned on was what happened the second you got the last word out.

James eagerly presses his plush lips onto your own, savouring the long overdue sensation of your mouth against his. He tenderly brushes your bottom lip with his tongue once he feels you respond to the kiss with equal fervour. Enthusiastically, you grant his tongue access into your mouth, pulling him closer to you by the roots of his damp hair.

James lets out a low groan at the contact, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, his hands hungrily gripping onto you for dear life as, somehow, the kiss deepens even further.

When the need for oxygen outweighs your mutual need for each others lips, you reluctantly part the slightest of distances, foreheads resting tenderly against one another.

“I’m in love you too. So bloody madly.” James whispers contentedly with a lovesick grin. 

You’re each donning smiles brighter than you can ever recall before.

The moment you’ve caught your breath you’re back at it again in full force, gripping at each others clothes and tangling nimble fingers through the other’s hair. James pulls back when your beaming smile makes it a little harder for him to kiss you, returning a smile just as wide that compels you to pull him back in for another kiss, or two, or three.

When the two of you finally feel satiated enough, James pulls back again, a noticeably farther distance. He’s still smiling but it isn’t quite as bright as it was a moment ago.

“What was all that about in the library, then? With Moony?” He asks you the question that’s been clawing at his insides for the last few weeks.

You pause, visibly confused as you shuffle through the files of your memories until you land on one a few weeks ago with Remus in the library. The two of you were discussing a friend who’d asked you on a date. You’d declined as politely as you could, valuing his friendship but knowing your heart had long since been beating for James.

“What about it?” You smile confusedly.

“Well, you were talking about me, weren’t you?” James looks down to the floor, expression now almost devoid of the happiness that had previously overtaken every inch of his face.

“What?” You laugh briefly before it registers, not just his words, but the reason he’s been avoiding you for the last few weeks.

“Wait- James!” You tilt your head into his line of vision, gently cradling his face with your hand as you turn his head to face you fully, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought.. Oh, Merlin.”

You pull him into a hug, holding him tight enough to convey just how wrong he’s been.

“I was talking about Amos Diggory.” You state with a gentle exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling back you rest your arms at your sides. “He asked me to dinner.”

James doesn’t hide the relief that courses through his body, despite the slight scoff of jealousy he lets out at your final sentence.

“But,” You wrap your arms back around him in reassurance, looking up into his eyes that are once again sparkling with happiness, “I’ve been a tad busy, being in love with my best friend and all. So I told him no. Obviously.”

“Right, obviously.” James replies with a cheeky smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a git, you know.” You roll your eyes, the action a mixture of lovesickness and frustration. “You could’ve just asked me then. Instead of hiding in the books like a proper stalker. And then avoiding me. For weeks,” You’re smiling, but you know you’re still getting your point across, “You git.” You punctuate your final word with a gentle swat to James’ chest, smiling adoringly when he grabs that hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to it before dropping your intertwined hands back at your side.

“I know,” He admits apologetically, “I’m sorry.” He’s smiling breathtakingly, “Still love me?”

You can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him, because in some roundabout way, it’s what led you to this moment right now, where you can reach over and kiss him if you want to.

And you want to. 

Pulling him into you by the fabric of his shirt, you plant another kiss upon James’ lips. The passion and tenderness in the kiss meld together just as perfectly as your lips do.

“Yes.” You mumble happily when your mouths finally break apart. “Always.”

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.4

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: brief mention of a sexual encounter (non-explicit)

The following week-and-a-half was both chaotic and painful for (likely everyone involved, but specifically for) Remus Moony Remus (& Moony).

Remus (under the watchful glare of one Sirius Orion Black) apologized to James for speaking so rudely to him, and to Peter for upsetting the room.

Pete was quick to forgive him, whilst James just asked, “are you ready to talk about it?”. Remus replied no, James said “talk to me when you are”, and the two haven’t spoken much since. 

The closer and closer Remus got to the full moon, the more incessant Moony became. Even if you weren’t around, Moony was whining after you. When you were around, Moony was begging for you. 

Remus, much to Moony and Sirius’s (never mind his own) chagrin, would hear your soft lilting voice moving down the hall speaking to James, and would quickly grab Amelia and find the closest broom closet. 

After the 3rd or 4th time, he was starting to look like a horny pre-teen who just discovered playboy magazines.

But while Amelia was on her knees and his hand was on the back of her head, he could muffle the howling and yipping of the angry wolf for at least the moment, and it felt like enough.

Until it wasn’t.

“Stop, stop.” He groaned as he pulled away from Amelia’s wandering hands. She looked quite lovely – flushed, slightly damp and pupils blown wide, but Remus couldn’t appreciate much of anything with the chorus of ‘Need, need, need, need. Mine, mine, mine, mine’ inside his mind.

“What is it, baby?” She cooed at him. Remus had to fight back a grimace at the nickname.

“I ca-I can’t do this right now.” He said, bringing his hand to his mouth; he suddenly felt queasy.

“Are you sure? I can be a good girl for you.” She purred.

“No.” he said as he flung the door to the broom closet and nearly collided with you.

Dammit, how were you everywhere!?

“Oh, hello Remus! Are you alright?” You asked him.

Mine. 

Remus could only let out a keening sound in response – hand still pressed to his mouth.

Your eyes seemed to flit around his being – not actually looking at him but around him as your mouth pinched in concern.

“No, not alright at all.” You answered your own question, speaking more to yourself than anything. 

“Rem?” Amelia said as she rubbed his back and spotted you in front of him.

“Oh, L/N,” Amelia said with a chuckle. Remus felt his hackles rise immediately. “Your aura looks wonderful today.” 

Her voice was filled with contempt, but your eyes never left Remus’ form. 

“Here,” you said to Remus as you began to dig through your book bag. You missed the ‘tosser’ that Amelia threw your way, but Remus didn’t.

Moony wanted her dead.

“This should help, Remus. It’s mallowsweet, shrivlefig juice, powdered moonstone, and rosewater. I think it’s just what you need.”

Your voice was so soft and sweet, and Moony was so quiet while you spoke. Remus almost wanted to tell you to forget the vial you were offering as he felt his migraine lifting just from listening to you talk.

Remus might as well have been a puppet as he raised his hand to take the vial from you – he didn’t even know what this concoction was for, but if you kept looking at him like that? He’d drink forty of them.

You dropped the vial into his palm, keeping your fingers to yourself as if you were somehow aware he was afraid to touch you.

“I hope you feel better, Remus.” You breathed softly, parting from him with a gentle smile as you floated back down the hallway.

“Gods, she is such an airhead.”

Remus suddenly understood James a little bit better.

“Amelia,” he started as he turned to stare daggers at the girl, “don’t make fun of my friends.”

And he stalked off down the hall, opposite the way you’d just went.

It was Thursday evening, and there were only two more nights until the full. Remus sat at the table with his head in his hands as he tried to swallow against his gag reflex.

Amelia Bones was staring daggers at him from the Hufflepuff table, but it was you, speaking so sweetly to James across from him, that had his heart beating like a hummingbird in his chest.

Mine, pack! Pack! Pack! Mine, pack. 

Remus mentally grabbed The Wolf by the scruff, causing a pitiful whine and quiet whimpering to follow. He was too tired and too close to the full for this.

James was speaking animatedly to you about the niffler’s from class today, but Remus Moony could tell your mind was elsewhere.

“One moment, Jamie.” You said quietly to your friend as you began to walk away. Suddenly, you were standing behind Moony Remus.

“Excuse me, Peter. Would you mind terribly if I sat here?” You asked sweetly, pointing to the sliver of bench between the two of them. Sirius’ eyes flew to meet Remus’ from his spot across from him.

“Oh! Uhm, no, Y/N, not at all.” Peter agreed as he moved to create a space for you beside Remus.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, you were suddenly sat between Remus and Peter, directly across from James who was placed beside Sirius. 

Remus felt his shoulders sag in immediate relief to have you so close to him. Horrifyingly, he felt tears spring to his eyes. He tucked his chin into his chest, knowing Sirius’ gaze hadn’t left him.

You pushed your ankle up against Remus’ as you continued discussing the pilfering little creatures from your class with James as the first tear fell. 

He wanted to be angry. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

He wanted to resent you. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

Because you were kind and sweet and understanding and patient. And he was the monster.

And somehow, you knew all of that. And yet, you sat here, beside him, and offered him what little comfort you could.

Remus was fucked.

You were at the quidditch game Friday evening. Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, so you appeared to be present only to cheer on James.

It was sweet.

Remus was fucked.

Amelia came too, which pissed Remus off seeing as Hufflepuff wasn’t playing either, but it gave him the chance to not sit there staring at the space beside you wishing he was selfish enough to take it.

Her company wasn’t as nice as yours, but Remus supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The weather kind of sucked – it wasn’t raining but the air was thick with fog and mist, and visibility was low. Remus wasn’t sure how the players managed between the mist, the wind on their brooms, and their sweat, but the game raged on.

“Wait, so the little braids that you find on horses randomly...” Peter asked you from a few bleachers below Remus.

Remus kept his eyes on the players he could make out through the fog and pretended he wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“Yes, those are nargles. They appear at night and twist the hairs of horses or unicorns to create stirrups and leads so that they can ride them. It’s important you don’t undo them, though, as nargles may become frustrated that they have to redo their work. They are also more likely to return to ride your horse again instead of outright taking them for their own if you respect their work. Tricky little thieves, they are.”

“Huh.” Pete offered brightly. Remus smiled widely to himself. “Well, I suppose they also look pretty in the horse’s hair. Might as well leave ‘em.”

Remus felt a warmth radiating in his chest. He couldn’t see either of you as he kept his gaze on the game, but he could clearly picture your kind and airy smile, and how Peter had his body turned to you to ensure you had his full intention.

Moony loved it too.

Pack. Good. Good. Good. PaCk GooD. 

Remus began to think maybe he could handle this. Maybe he could keep you here, sort of at arm’s length but still within his reach. Maybe he could accept you as a friend and...pack member if that’s what Moony insisted on calling you.

Maybe this didn’t need to be all or nothing, maybe this could just be...

But Remus’ train of thought stopped as Moony began raging within his mind. Remus started to panic, thinking maybe he miscalculated the next full moon; he’s not been wrong about a moon once in his entire life, but fuck, stranger things have happened.

He looked to the sky, and even through the fog, Remus could tell the moon was nowhere near risen. He was also very sure the full moon was tomorrow night.

“Look out!” A player shouted from the pitch as Remus spotted a very large ball careening its way over...straight for you.

Mine. Mine. Mine MINE MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE.

Remus’ mind went blank as he stood from his place. Suddenly, he was standing in front of you as the ball hit him in the middle of his back. He grunted in mild discomfort, but it was far less damage than what could have been had it made contact with your face.

Your face, which was looking up at Remus with your mouth parted in gentle surprise, and your eyes searching his person.

“Remus! Are you alright, mate?” Peter cried in shock.

The whistle sounded on the pitch as players flew their way over to the Gryffindor benches to retrieve the ball. 

“Yeah, Pete, I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt that bad.” He offered, though his eyes never left yours.

“Moony, what the fuck was that?!” Sirius called from his broom.

“What was what? Aren’t you players supposed to aim the ball at each other?” He snarked back.

“Mate,” Pete whispered to him, “you apparated.”

He...he apparated!?

Hogwarts had ancient magical wards lining the school grounds and castles. One such ancient ward was an anti-apparition ward. No one should be able to apparate in or out.

Ignoring all of that, however...7th years still hadn’t been taught how to apparate yet.

Well...Remus didn’t know what to say about that. So instead, he asked “are you alright?”

You looked between him and his right shoulder for a moment before nodding. “Yes, Remus. Thank you. I’m very sorry about all of this.”

But before he could say - oh, that’s okay, or that’s not necessary, or even what the hell are you apologizing for? - you were out of your seat and leaving the stands.

“What did you say to her?” James barked at Remus from his broom beside Sirius, glare turning stormy.

“Nothing mate,” Sirius answered for him, “he just asked if she was alright.”

“Was she?” James asked, eyes softening slightly.

“Yeah, she’s okay.” Remus answered.

James seemed to analyze Remus’ face before offering him a curt nod and flying back to the centre of the pitch. 

“McGonagall’s going to be so pissed if you broke those wards, mate.” Peter muttered as the game resumed.

Sure, Remus thought, let’s focus on that. 

McGonagall was kind of pissed about the wards, but she told Remus it was but a minor tear within the grid and may be repairable. 

Seeing as the burst of accidental magic was...well...accidental (and lunar in nature, though he figured it was best they all ignored that little fact for the time being), he was off the hook for the damage.

He was the victim of relentless torment, however.

“Lord Rem, are you reading ahead to make the rest of us look bad?” Lily smirked from her place in the Gryffindor common room. 

Remus groaned into his book as he pulled it to the face.

“It was an accident.” He muttered miserably.

“Sure. Just watch your back, Lupin; I’m still top of the class.” She fired at him with a smirk.

The common room continued thinning out until it was only Lily and James playing wizards chess, Sirius and Peter playing exploding snap, and Remus trying to read his book as his muscles and joints swelled and groaned under the pull of the moon. Tomorrow night, and then he’d be free for the rest of the cycle.

Well, not free, seeing as now he was also plagued by you.

Suddenly, the group of five could hear the portrait of the Fat Lady screeching at someone in the hall.

“I will do no such thing; I am not a secretary” the muffled voice spat.

Sirius and Remus shared a confused look before the former stood and made his way to the portrait hole. 

“Reggie?” Sirius asked quietly as the portrait swung open to reveal the form of his younger brother.

“Uhm, hi, Sirius. I... I was wondering if Potter was here?”

Sirius’ head reared back slightly as he blinked over at James.

“Uhm...yes? He is.” 

Regulus sighed. “May I speak to him?”

Sirius slowly moved aside and gestured for Regulus to come in.

“Hello Regulus.” James said politely, looking bemusedly at Sirius for a brief moment before standing.

“Potter. My apologies for the...intrusion. But I’m wondering if you’ve seen Y/N.”

Remus’ book fell into his lap as he sat straight in his chair, hands gripping the arm rests. Remus had heard from Sirius (who heard from James) that you and Regulus were quite close. This at least explained why Remus’ friends and yours had never intertwined before.

“No, no. Not since the game, why?”

Regulus sighed again as he grimaced. “She’s not in her dorms. One of her dormmates asked me where she went – apparently, she told them it was important for her to be ‘away from the castle’ for the weekend. I was hoping you knew where she went.”

Remus ran up to the Marauder’s dorm room and accio’d the Marauder’s Map. He scanned the parchment and, sure enough, you were nowhere to be found. He double, triple and quadruple checked to no avail. 

You were nowhere to be found on castle grounds.

Continue to chapter five here.

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It's Better On Top

i relate cause this was me a few months ago.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: small smut scene, overprotective brothers and a small spiral of panic

Summary: you've always wanted to sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed, it was sacrier than you thought and you need your boyfriend to help you get down

There was a child-like wonder to Peter’s room. 

The wall’s were a muted tone, chosen by whichever maintenance man who hated the idea of color. To make up for the lack of personality he’s added his own. Posters from being a tween till now, you could make out the older ones by the wrinkles in the edges. Pictures from all ages bounced around the room, ones with May, Ned and you. You always liked to fawn over his childhood ones, he looked so small and loving. He’d gladly follow you in the back of the van to see your new puppy, a favorite is one where he’s perched on May’s shoulders so happy to be up high. 

Awards and certificates of his genius covered any empty spots, only small peeks of the bland wall poked through. He had trinkets all around, figurines and collectables. He kept his prized ones on a shelf where he dusted once a week, the others floated on shelves, windowsills, or his desk. And the legos, he had sets everywhere, he hated breaking them apart after. It wasn’t about maintaining a pretty thing, it was about appreciating his frustration, concentration, and pride. 

He can do hard things because they turn out beautiful in the end. 

You caught the loose pieces, tucked in a plastic tub under his bed. 

His bed. Your favorite part of his room, he had something you’ve always wanted before. You begged your parents for years but they never delivered, you never had friends with one either. They just looked so fun, a permanent sleepover. Something to open the room, more space to play. When you first came over to his house you stood in awe, he had one. It was too soon to ask, and you waited until the moment striked. 

Tonight was the night you would finally fulfill your childhood dreams and sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed. 

“Question.” 

Peter looked up from his desk for a moment, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth slunk back in. He answered your words with a raised eyebrow, he grunted looking at his suit sewing up the shoulder. 

“Can I sleep on the top bunk tonight?” 

His eyes flickered up to the top, then back to his suit. 

“Why do you wanna do that? I sleep on the bottom bunk, you know.” He tugged the thread tightly. 

You do know, you’ve never been on top though. It felt like a summer camp, as you imagine. You’ve never been to one, you wonder if Peter has. To sleep in the same room as Peter, arm lengths away, to have him softly snoring underneath you as you count the stress fractures on his ceiling sounded blissful. 

“I’ve never slept on a bunk bed.” 

Peter looks at you and grins, “You sleep on it with me.” 

You roll your eyes, “Yeah but I’ve never had the sleepover bunk bed experience.” 

He drops his hands for a moment, “You never told me that, we could’ve done that ages ago baby.” 

You perk up, “So tonight?” 

Peter smiles softly, “I don’t know the last time the sheets were washed, I’ll set it up for you and I promise next time you can.” 

You bounce up and down on his bed, you can’t help yourself. You’re just so excited, you leap up to cross the room to press kisses to his face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He laughed as he lightly pushed you off him, “If I had known it would make you this happy I would’ve had you up there a million times by now.” 

You squeeze at him before clasping your hands, “It’s gonna be so fun, Petey. It’ll be like summer camp!” 

He raised an eyebrow, “Does that make me your counselor?” 

You ran your index finger down his chest and lowered your voice, “Shit sexy, you could be my camp director.” 

He matched your energy, “I’ll direct your camp.” 

You tried to bite back a smile, right before you broke it he sucked a breath through his teeth. 

“That was bad.” 

“It was.” 

“Swing and a miss.” 

“If you’re on my mound you won’t be missing.” 

Peter fake gagged, “You’re just as bad as me, get away you’re radiating bad flirting vibes and it’s affecting me.” 

You gasp and smack his shoulder, “Take it back! I’m not a bad flirt!” 

He nods and puts on a dumb voice, “Okay.” 

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, Peter takes in your movements and gasps.

“Don’t you dare.” 

“I will if you don’t take it back.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re radiating bad flirting vibes.” 

“That’s it, you have two seconds or the legislation is being enacted.” 

Peter holds his breath and winces, he’s not breaking. Neither are you. 

“I tried being reasonable, Parker. You’ve lost kissing privileges until you repent for your sins against hot, excellent flirter girlfriends.” 

He holds a fist in the air and cries out, “Noooooo!” 

“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me, me and my lonely lips are going back to your bed, where they will stay until I get a heartfelt apology.” 

Peter pulled at the thread on his needle with his teeth snapping it. He tossed his suit on his desk and pulled at your arm as you walked away from him, spinning you around he pulled you into his lap and kissed you repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Each apology wrapped with a kiss. You giggled and kicked your feet and you pushed at his jaw but he insisted on kissing your jaw and neck. 

“Okay, okay! Sins repented!” 

“Did I do enough hail mary’s, my priest?” A wet kiss placed at your jawline. 

“What kind of roleplay is this?” Peter jumped slightly, May was leaning in the doorway. 

“I had to repent for my sins, May. I was just making sure I was in the clear.” 

“He said I had bad flirting vibes, May. The boy had to be punished.” 

May ran one index finger over the over in a ‘shame’ motion, “Shame.” 

Peter groaned, “I repented! The priest gives me the pass, go back to Jeopardy, May.” 

May raised her hands, “Alright, children of god. Dinner in an hour.” 

She turned slowly as she walked away, “No more sinning under my roof, Peter. You’re on thin ice as is.” 

He turned to whisper to you, “Did she just tell me I was going to hell?” 

You nodded quickly and matched his tone, “Yeah baby, she did.” 

Peter scoffed and looked at his suit with a sigh, “And just when a guy thinks he’s won enough good karma he’s tossed back in the hole.” 

“I bet it's lonely down there.” 

“And cold.” 

“I picture rain.” 

“Yeah, but it’s only on me so I can’t escape it.” 

“Like one of those cartoons with the clouds above their head?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Damn. Well, I’ll send a postcard from heaven.” 

“That is literally so toxic, get off of me.” 

You threw your head back laughing as Peter lightly pushed at your thighs.

—----------------------

You couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed your face, Peter Parker was many things but number one on the list is best boyfriend ever. 

He had sent you a picture of the top bunk, it was taken from the ladder. A new set of sheets and your favorite throw blanket you kept on the couch was tucked in the corners of the bed. His childhood teddy bear was tucked in the railing against the wall, a small paper he wrote on was taped to the wall, you couldn’t read it over the phone. 

‘Guess who’s gonna have the best sleepover of their life.’ Was the text sent with it, you couldn’t help but send one back of your cheesy grin. ‘Did I ever mention how much I love you?’

‘Once or twice, it doesn't hurt to hear it again.’

‘I love my handsome, thoughtful boyfriend.’

He sent a questioning emoji, ‘You have another boyfriend?’

‘It’s amazing how you can be lovely and toxic at the same time.’

‘Like a fuckin mirror babe.’

You grunted at the phone with narrowed eyes. 

‘Be safe tonight, don’t die pls.’

‘I have a very important sleepover and my girlfriend is losing her bunk bed virginity, (twice) so I can’t die, the gods have spoken it into existence.’

‘Just for that comment, I lied. I wasn’t a virgin.’ 

‘Trust me, you were.’

You sent a grumpy face, ‘I’ll see you tonight, I love you.’ 

‘Love you too, baby.’

You could hardly count the minutes down until Peter got back from patrol and sent you the come over text, as silly as it was it felt like it was healing your inner childhood. Not to mention, unknown to you, Peter totally leaned into it and was committed to give you the best sleepover ever, snacks and drinks and take out and movies and everything you could want at a sleepover was carefully planned. 

Staring at your dresser you contemplated showing up in pajamas or bringing a bag, you figured you should bring some real clothes just in case but you were committed to wearing one of his shirts with some pajama shorts, ones he would say were delicious on you. They were too short for you to bravely wear them on the bus so you begged your brother to take you, it only cost you twenty bucks, he let you off easy. 

You knew he was busy swinging and you always hated the idea of sending him a text while he was possibly in the middle of kicking someone's ass and throwing him off, however, this was life or death.

‘Are we eating at yours or should I eat here?’

‘I planned on chinese, I should be home in an hour or two.’ 

"Sounds yummy, let me know when you’re on the way home, it only cost me a twenty to get a ride.’ 

‘Highway robbery, man up and strap some webshooters to those wrists.’ 

‘I’d die and you would be happy.’ 

‘Cash in on that life insurance.’ 

‘I knew you were with me for my money.’ 

‘And dat ass.’ 

‘I’m taking a shower.’ 

“Ooh, take a picture.’ 

—--------------------------------

You resorted to painting your toenails and watch a quick murder mystery video on youtube while you waited for Peter to call, the waiting was always the hardest part, you were selfish and wanted him when you wanted him, you just had to remind yourself it’s just like he has a normal job but with better flexibility. 

It didn’t make it easier, you still wanted Peter more than the city deserved Spider-Man. You would never tell him that. 

You steady your hand as you applied the second coat, you took the shower first and wouldn’t be able to wash away the color that went out of line. 

Your phone lit up with a picture of Peter, he was rubbing at his eye with a soft grin, caught before a yawn. It was the morning of a sleepover and you caught him before he made you breakfast and smothered you in kisses between May’s wandering eyes. 

“Hello lover.” You drawled out the words like you weren’t waiting for his call.

“Hey trouble.” His voice was as smooth as aged scotch on the rocks

You heard him breathe in quickly as the air wooshed by him, he was heading home you assume. 

“I’m gonna stop and get us dinner, head over in ten, okay baby?”

“Get me soup too, please!” 

“Got it. Wait, should I get your brother something?” 

“Are you trying to wine and dine my sibling?” You giggle into the phone.

“I’m trying to make him like me.” 

“Crab rangoons are a start.” 

“He’s gonna be my bitch in five years, just you wait.” 

“Playing the long game are you?” 

“You know, if you want to slip how good of a boyfriend I am for fulfilling your childhood dream on that car ride I wouldn’t object.” 

“Petey, honey. He doesn’t give a shit about my childhood dreams.” 

“Siblings are brutal. Thank god I’m an only child.” 

“I’ll get him to come inside, you can bro hug or whatever and give him his rangoons and he’s guaranteed gonna tell me you���re cool later in private.” 

“You’re the bestest, see you soon, trouble.” 

“Love youuuuu.” 

The second you hung up you nearly kicked the door in at your brother's room and told him he had five minutes before he had to tote you across town, per agreement.

Minutes later you were riding in silence as he blasted a new playlist, you would never admit it but you found some good songs from him. At a red light he rested his hand on his gear shift, picking at his bottom lip he tried subtle conversation. 

“Are you gonna need a ride home tomorrow or will the kid take care of it?” 

“If you don’t feel like picking me up then Peter, my boyfriend, will take me home.” Then follow up with, “Or maybe stay another night.” 

He shakes his head quickly, “I’ll pick you up, just text me when.” 

“He’s coming on the trip this year, you have to be nice. He’s nice, he’s good to me.” You say his name softly, he’s told you before that it’s just him fearing for your heartbreak, something Peter could cause and he would have to watch you heal from that. He knows how true heartbreak feels and he would never want you to feel that too, he thought he was dying. 

He accelerated at the green light. 

“I don’t hate the kid, I just don’t like him.” 

You sigh, “You can call him by his name, you won’t summon him I promise.” 

“He’s nice, I’ll throw you that bone.” 

“Just nice?” 

“He seems to treat you alright, rare to have a freakishly chivalrous guy this day in age.” 

“I’m telling Peter you said that, he’s so anxious about you hating him. He is so desperate for your approval it’s kinda sad.” 

“Don’t! Intimidation is the only thing I have over him.” 

You know he jokes about messing Peter up if he dares dump you but you know it’s all talk. 

“You really think Peter’s gonna dump me?” 

“Between the two of you? Yeah. You could never do it.” 

You snort, “He said the exact same about himself.” 

Your brother just hums and turns the music back up, there was no need to ask for directions, he’s been on this route hundreds of times in the past almost year. 

When he pulled to the curb you made a puppy dog face, “will you please come up? I have something you need to bring home and I don’t want to have to go up and down twice.” 

He pulled his eyebrows in, “You can’t bring it home tomorrow?” 

Shit. 

“No, mom needs it now. I forgot to ask Peter to bring it over earlier.” 

“What is it?” 

“C’mon, please! It’ll take five minutes.” 

He stared at you before groaning and throwing his seat belt off, ripping the key from the ignition. Without waiting on you he opened his door and started walking to the entrance making you scramble to escape the seat and power walking to catch up. 

You walked in on him mass spamming the elevator button as if it would make it come faster, “what floor is the kid on again?” 

“Peter.” you enunciated, “Lives on floor seven.” 

“Right.” 

He knocked, no, pounded on the door. Peter swung the door open fast, half worried you were desperate to get in but rather met with your brother's face. He quickly reset himself and smiled before opening the door for you to enter, Peter held out his hand for a shake with a nod of his name. 

Your brother shook his hand firmly, “Pecker.” 

“Peter!” you corrected, loudly. 

Peter waved it off, “close enough.” Then made his way to you leaning in for a quick kiss, “Hi, trouble.” You couldn’t help the smile. “Hi, handsome.” He gave you a squeezing hug and mumbled in your ear as he softly swayed you, “I missed you,” 

Your brother let out a gag, “alright what did you need me to bring home, this place reeks of Parker.”

“Ah! I got you these,” he hopped into the kitchen to grab the small take away box. “Crab rangoons.” Peter nodded at the container as he handed it out, your brother took it wearily, “I don’t normally accept bribes but this one slides, that’s-“ he made eye contact with you, “very nice of you.” 

You nodded your head and couldn’t help the growing grin, then he realized your game and gave a nod at Peter then turned to leave he pointed at you, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I can bring her home.”

Your brother looked over his shoulder at him, then repeated himself “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

When the door shut loudly Peter looked at you with an excited face, “that went well, right? He only referred to me as a penis once!” You smiled before grabbing at his shoulders moving him to the couch and straddling him, Peter rested his palms on your thighs lightly tapping them, his eyebrows raised waiting for you to talk. 

“He didn’t want me to tell you this but because I love you, and I’m starting to feel extreme pity for you-“ 

“Thanks, baby.” A squeeze. 

“-Welcome, he told me in the car that he thinks you’re nice and you treat me freakishly well, so in his words, “I don’t hate the kid, I just don’t like him.””

“At this rate he may even tolerate me by the time we go on vacation.” 

You squeeze his shoulders and place a chaste kiss to his mouth, “The rangoons just put you at not complaining if you come over for dinner level.” 

Peter threw his head back, “Let’s goooooo.” 

You let out a small sigh, he tried so hard. “It’s not personal Pete, he just doesn’t want you to hurt me and not that he would admit it, I think a part of him doesn’t want to like you because if we were to ever split he would miss you too.” 

He pulls a dumb face, “okay but has he considered we won’t break up, like ever?” 

You shrug, “Yeah, about that..” 

Peter rolls his eyes and flips you to pin you to the couch, “you stop it, woman. I am going to wine, dine and bed you before banishing you from mine tonight.” 

“Don’t wanna make the bed rock from up top?” 

“And have my head whack the ceiling a million times? No.” 

“I could be on top.” 

“And have you whack your head on the ceiling? Absolutely not.” 

“You’re such a gentleman, do you have any objections to making the couch rock?” 

Peter dropped his jaw and scoffed, he looked over your face looking for your bluff, you weren’t kidding. He supported himself with one hand as the other slipped under his— your shirt, “You know May uses this couch.” 

You nod as you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him in, “I know.” 

He groans when you grind against him, “It would be dirty of us, we shouldn’t.” 

You look in his eyes as he watches you pull up slightly pulling your shirt off, he glances at your chest before looking back at you. “We shouldn’t,” you agree with him as you shuffle your pajama shorts down your thighs, Peter lets out a room quieting gasp when you pull him from his pants. 

“Fuck you’re eager.” 

You lean up to place a kiss below his ear, “I’m just showing how much I missed you.” 

He let out another curse when you rolled your hips into his, “You’re dirty, so so dirty.” ————————-

Peter had woken you up from the couch around one in the morning, he had let you sleep through the last half of the movie you had started. And you were sleepy until he woke you up and started to push you towards his room and seeing his bedside lamp light up the room woke you up more. 

Rubbing at your eye you speak through a yawn, Peter still understands. 

“Course you can still sleep up top.” 

He pulls down his own sheet and shakes his own yawn, you start to climb up the ladder and notice the higher you got the shakier your knees became, then you slightly duck because you’re closer to the ceiling than you estimated. 

With a slight turn over your shoulder your tongue melts in your mouth, it’s higher up than what you thought. And sure, you’re not a kid and it’s just a bunk bed but it feels like all rational thinking went out the window, it was high up and you can’t help but think about the fall down. 

“Help?” 

Peter looked at you with a tilted head and his hands on his hips, he was about to ask ‘help with what?’ but rather used his detective skills and nodded his head. He crossed the room and followed you up the ladder, as he followed up you were able to comfortably sit on the top bunk. 

You crossed your legs with a small smile, like you didn’t just panic and ask for him to follow you up in case you somehow fell backwards. Peter’s eyebrows rise to ask if everything's okay, you open your arms for him to follow you down on the bed, you close him in with a tight hug. 

“I love you.” 

He laughs and places a kiss on your neck, “I love you too baby.” 

“Okay, I’m ready. Tuck me in and call it a night, dad.” 

Peter watched you shuffle under your blanket with a grunt at the title, he leaned over you to tuck in the sides so you were snuggled in. He pushed some hair out of your face and pressed a soft, longing kiss to your mouth. 

“Goodnight, trouble.” 

You bit your lip to suppress a grin, only a whisper left your mouth, “night.” 

Only lasting five minutes of silence in the dark room, which was your preference by the way, Peter didn’t mind if a light was on but you claimed you couldn’t sleep in the light. 

“It makes my eyelids see through, Peter.” 

“You’re so dramatic.”

You called out to Peter. 

“Pst, Peter.”

He has a stage whisper, “yeah?” 

“Have you ever been to summer camp?” 

He shuffles in bed, you think he’s pulling the blanket up. 

“I’m poor.” 

“I’ve never been either.”

“Notice you didn’t say you’re poor too?” 

“Money is a mindset, Peter.” 

“Sounds like you’re poor.” 

A sigh, “I am.” 

You hear him roll over, your own bed shakes with his jostle, you grip your sheets. Your slight edge sparked Peter’s senses. 

“You okay up there?” 

You wouldn’t object if he begged you to come sleep with him, but you were going to see out this childhood dream. 

“Yeah. I miss you.” 

He snorts, “Reach your hand down.” 

You follow his instructions and wiggle your arm through the side bars, his hand encases your own. For a moment everything settles and you almost ask for him to come join you, but you’re terrified of the bed shaking. 

“Couldn’t be further from you if I tried.” 

“Will you do this all night?” 

“And risk a frozen shoulder for you?” He shoots out, then adds, “Of course I would.” 

“Aw, you’re such a good friend!” 

His hand squeezes yours, “what kind of a friend?” 

You giggle, “the bestest!” 

“Wrong B word, dear.” 

You gasp, “ I don’t think you’re a bitch, Peter!”

He groans, “That’s it, fend for yourself. Goodnight, traitor.” 

Peter’s hand drops from yours and he turns towards the wall, you whine when he pulls away from you. “Fine then, goodnight, Parker.” 

You hear him mumble to himself and grin while you let sleep take over. 

——————————

Your phone said it was four twenty three in the morning. 

You wonder when Peter will wake up, if he would rise when the sun did or, more likely, sleep until you wake him up when you get too bored of entertaining yourself like you usually do. 

You have to pee, bad. 

You got as far as one step on the ladder then felt yourself slightly sway, you tried to find the next step but were too scared to extend your foot all the way to reach it. 

You tried looking back and cursed yourself for sleeping in the pitch black tonight, you were in limbo between sending it and hopping down and crawling back up and waving a white flag. 

Deciding you were a grown badass you forced yourself to take the next step and nearly slipped, Peter’s foot was resting right between the steps and his blanket made the step slick. You nearly fell backwards, in a rush you climbed back up and checked the time to see if you could wait it out. 

You were able to wait for ten minutes, then a cramp hit and all you can think about is the toilet ten steps away.

Calling quits you realize your only hope was Peter, and he was dead asleep judging by his snores. Nevertheless, you start to plead. 

“Peter?” A whisper. 

“Peter.” A little louder. 

He snores loudly at that one. 

“Peter!” A whisper shout. 

He’s not answering. 

He’s not answering, and he’s not awake, and you can’t get down, and you have to pee and you were the one that wanted this. 

You blink back tears, why do you want to cry? 

“Peter!” You spoke in a regular but quiet voice. 

He stays silent, you start to chant his name over and over, he doesn’t respond. 

On the fourth call your tears break through, you sigh heavily. Tears dripped down your chin into your hands, you called out one more time, begging. 

“Peter, please.” 

You sniffle, then let out a breath of fresh air. 

“Baby?” It’s raspy and spoken through a sharp inhale, he feels like cold water has been dumped on him. 

He stares at the slats above him like he has x-ray vision to see through them to you. 

“Peter! I can’t- I don’t know how- I have to-“ You start to breath heavy, your eyes flooding with panic and embarrassment, and you really fucking have to pee. 

Peter untangled himself to stand up, he pulled down a leg of his boxer briefs that had risen with his tossing and turning. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You gasp for air, you feel the bed shake when he pulls at the ladder to pull himself up. You wrap your hands around your head, “I wanna get down, I wanna get down!” 

You repeat the words over and over until you feel hands over your own, the bed dips where Peter has his knees on either side of you. He wraps you tight in his arms, “It’s okay, you’re okay. We can get you down, it’s okay.” You wind your arms around his, tucking yourself in your neck to start to cry. 

Peter’s heart hurts, you’re scared. 

“You’re safe. I’m here, okay?” 

He feels your warm breath wash over his chest, you try and calm yourself down, it’s not as scary when Peter has you surrounded. 

“I couldn’t get down and you wouldn’t wake up.” 

Peter frowns between your studders, he hates that you were calling out for him and he didn’t hear it. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m here now, okay? Wanna get down?” 

You nod into his neck, “I have to pee so bad.” 

Peter breathed through a smile and kissed the top of your head, “okay, let’s go pee.” He pulled himself away and started to go down the ladder, you watched him with wide eyes trying to memorize his steps so you could match. 

You looked up and noticed how close you were to the ceiling, your throat felt like it closed up. You could feel how shaky your knees were even looking at the space to go down, you figured you would wet the bed tonight. 

“I’m right here, trouble. I won’t let you fall, I promise.” 

You shake your head, “I can’t. I tried and I can’t.” 

Peter hums and looks around the room, he can’t carry you down. The physics wouldn’t allow him too, his only option was catching you. 

“Can you sit on the railing for me, baby?” 

You reached out a hand to wiggle it, it seemed sturdy. 

“Okay.” 

You white knuckled the banister when it creaked under your weight, “Peter, get me down, please get me down. I’m gonna freak out.” 

“I need you to trust me, sweetheart. Just drop.” 

You hold on tighter, your voice squeaks. “Drop?!” 

“I gotta catch you, I can’t carry you down, baby.” 

You look over to the window, the moon was lighting up one side of the room, you can barely make out his figure on the side of the bed. 

“Can you see me?” 

He lets out a small laugh, “Yes, baby, I can see you.” 

You buffer and hold up a hand, “How many fingers am I holding up?” The other hand has a vice grip to steady you.

“Four.” 

You whine, “I’m scared.” 

Peter’s heart hurts again. 

“I know you are, I promise I’ll catch you, okay?” 

“Okay.” You don’t sound very confident. 

“I’m gonna let go.” 

“I’m ready.” 

You loosen your grip then immediately double down. 

“Okay, I’m gonna drop now.” 

“Got it.” 

You stay there for another second. 

“Baby, you gotta let go.” 

“Be honest, will you be mad if I wet the bed?” 

“No, but how are you gonna get down after that?” 

You breathe in deeply, “I’m gonna actually do it, you promise you’ll catch me?” 

“I promise.” 

You loosen your hold to push off, “I’m about to let go.” 

“I’m right here.” 

You hold your breath and push off as hard as you could, your hair breezes and your body feels weightless for just a moment. Then you’re caught, hands wrap around your back and thighs, you feel yourself bounce in his hold then level out. 

“Caught you.” Peter’s voice is a whisper in your ear, you kick your legs to be let down. You immediately turn to wrap him in a hug, “thank you, I love you.” Then push him back to sprint to the bathroom. 

When you come back in he’s back in bed, his blanket open for you to join. You couldn’t help but feel like a little kid, but it was dark and high up and to be fair you couldn’t see where you were going. 

Sliding next to him his eyes open, “the first time I was on top bunk I was like, seven and I had a nightmare and I couldn’t get down and was screaming so loud May woke up and had to come rescue me.” 

“I didn’t realize I'd feel so trapped up there.” 

He hums, “It does feel like that, huh?”

“You were my hero tonight, you’re good at that. Maybe you should look into a job doing that.”

“I may have to look into it, I’m tired of being New York City’s Spider-Menace.” Then decides to add, “I’m sorry you were scared and needed me and I wasn’t waking up. You must’ve been petrified.” 

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna go up there again.” 

He laughs, “that’s okay.” 

You roll over to stick your face against his arm. “Sorry I woke you up.” 

“Your tears were coming through the slats, it was chinese water torture.” You open your mouth to bite at him, he grunts. “I’ll let you get away with that, you had a scary night.” 

“Remember earlier when we were talking about B words?” 

Peter hums, he’s falling back asleep. He never used to fall asleep so fast until he met you, having you tucked into his side always made him sleep soundly. 

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.” 

He opens his arm to pull you into him, “you make it easy.” 

[jamilelucato]

blue - 001

show: Stranger Things [SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4]

pairing: female reader x peter ballard

summary: growing up in the lab with Dr Brenner for a father wasn't easy, but you had a friend that made things a bit tolerable.

It wasn’t easy being the daughter of Dr Martin Brenner, but you did your best to please him. He was a very systematic man, who wished to control everything and everyone as he saw fit, and you had no problem following orders, except that it was clear your father was setting you up for failure. He never made a secret that he did not like that you were born a female, not a male, and you guessed that was the reason behind all of his impossible requests he kept on making, always wanting more of your brain than it could ever learn.

That was the reason why you grew old in his lab in Hawkins— he expected you to follow him around like a loyal dog, and you were generally making notes on the things you saw in there.

It was no surprise to you when he asked for your presence to see something that had arrived at the lab. “A new subject,” he had called the boy, not as if dad was king and, the boy, his commoner, but as if the boy was a school subject, as it was what your father envisioned the boy to be to you.

“Come on in, daughter,” he said, getting up from where he was sitting. “This is number one.”

You walked in slowly, scared. You were barely ten, but smarter than most teens, but at that moment, you felt like a little dear, scared for his life. You stared at the boy sitting in front of where your father was and you were shocked to find a calm boy. You expected to see someone as scared as you, or even more, but no. Number 001, as your father called him, was serene, and he stared back at you like he could see your very soul.

“Number one, this is my daughter, [y/n] Brenner,” your father made the room so you could sit in the chair he once sat in. “Get familiar with her, as she is to be your future doctor, once she graduates.”

The boy stared back at your father. His head movement was weird as if he was used to having some hair to move when looking up, but there was no hair on top of his head, just his buzzcut.

“I’ll let you two get to know each other, as I’m sure my daughter can enlighten you about who I am,” was the last thing your father said before leaving and locking the door behind.

You gulped, forcing yourself to stop facing the door and look back at the boy.

He looked your age, maybe just a bit older. 

“My name is not one,” he said, breaking the silence with a rasping voice.

“I’m sorry?”

He smiled, not showing his teeth. It was as if he found pleasure in seeing you confused.

“My name’s Henry.”

“Was,” you corrected him because that was expected. You knew that even though your father left, he could be watching you two, by the mirror windows or even the cameras. You learned long ago that they were everywhere in the lab. “You’re not Henry anymore.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Then, the quietness came again. No one uttered a word. You were still nervous, gulping by the second, but the boy just laid back, watching. You didn’t like the silence, it made you overthink.

“You can call me just by [y/n], you know,” you said.

“Not a doctor then?”

“Oh, as much as my Papa likes to brag, I’ll only graduate high school next year. I still have a while before getting hold of my doctored degree.”

“Graduating high school?” that seemed to surprise him.

You couldn’t help but smile. It was a hard life, studying like crazy and not ever getting complimented, but you liked knowing you were a genius. “I am young as I look, but as my father’s daughter, I must be at the top of not just my class, but everyone else’s.”

“Must be exhausting,” he replied, looking away. 

He wasn’t expecting you to agree in a whisper. “It is.”

Both of you exchanged a knowing look. Maybe there was not much knowledge of each other, but there was of yourselves. You knew you weren’t gonna have an easy life, and he knew he was destined for one difficult as well. Doomed, was the word, but back then, you didn’t know. You just didn’t know.

~~

“Sorry I’m late, P,” you said, sitting down on the white floor.

Everything was white at that goddam lab, but you were used to it, or at least, it didn’t bother you as much as it did in the beginning. 

Your friend Henry, or as you nicknamed him Peter, was the Number 001, and he was already in the room, sitting on the floor at the very same spot you two had found for each other. It was nice being able to just sit on the ground, and not care about getting dirty, as if there was any chance of that happening in the lab. It was simple and it put you two on the same level, which was true even if your papa wouldn’t agree.

Before getting your doctorate, you and Henry were not much of friends, although you supposed you were each other’s closest person in each life. Peter had access to the other kids, the other numbers, but they were just babies, while you spent your life alone, guided solely by Dr Brenner, your father. It was lonely for both of you, and once you had your degree in your hands, you decided to get closer to the boy who was always staring you around when you came down to the lab.

At first, your father did not approve of your specialization in psychology, but once he started filling the lab with children, he realized your diploma was very much in need, and he gave you a room, so you could listen and take notes on each of the kids’ complaints.

And even though number 001 was no longer a kid, he still had a scheduled hour with you, every Tuesday and Thursday.

When he walked in, for his first appointment ever, you were as nervous as he was shocked to see you. You had only turned eighteen, but he was about to be nineteen, and a lot had changed. Yeah, you saw each other grow up, but not as frequently as the hearts would hope, and a lot had changed.

You were one of them now, at least it was how he saw you that very first Tuesday. You were dressed in white, with your hair fixed in a tight ponytail. There were no more pink and yellow dresses. And he had changed too. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his light blue eyes, and he was way taller than you. 

You remembered him being cold, scared to talk. Of course, he did not lose his posture of serenity, as if he was always the most intelligent one in every room he walked in. 

Neither of you remembered how or when it all changed, how you two came to agree with sitting on the floor and sharing your lunch (you always brought something tasty from the outside, something the kids would never have access to). Something had happened — maybe a look you shared or a word he spoke, neither of you could point at the thing, but both were very glad it had happened.

Peter looked forward to his appointments with you, for it was the only hour he had to be himself, to feel free. Yes, your room was as white as the rest of the place, but when it was just the two of you behind the closed door, suddenly, it felt coloured. It felt rainbowy.

“It’s okay. It’s not like I’m not used to being alone,” he said, jokingly, and you pushed him with your left hand while he laughed. “You shouldn’t…” he had to pause because he was laughing too hard “... push me like this, Dr; I’m sure your father won’t like it.”

“Papa?” you echoed. It was funny now that you were twenty to call him papa because that was the very nickname Dr Brenner was forcing the kids, the other numbers, to call him. Well, the word was not funny per se, as it was more weird than comic. “Papa can’t see in here,” you said, smiling, “so I just kill you and it won’t matter.”

Peter smiled again, that beautiful smile that always heated your heart. His hair was growing again, out of his buzzcut, as you noticed it happened way faster than with the other kids. It was so unfair, you thought, for he had the most beautiful golden hair. You were thankful the numbers had a schedule for haircuts, and Peter had to wait for the day with the others, instead of being taken to cut it earlier, because then it allowed you moments like that one, where you could see some locks fighting to grow.

You took advantage of his silence to inform some news.

“I’ve been talking to him, you know. I think… I think he will allow it, P. He’ll let you be a worker here, not just…”

“Don’t say patient,” he quickly interrupted you, knowing very well you hated to use ‘subject’ even though it was way better than ‘prisoner’, which he was.

You stared at him, focusing on every detail of his blue eyes.

You didn’t understand what happened to you two, why were you like this… How did you become friends? And is that the ideal word for the two of you?

Unlike most of the other numbers, Number One had a childhood outside the lab. He got to know some customs of American society, customs that used to reveal themselves without him realizing it. You liked those moments—when he referenced some ‘50s song, or even when he opened the door and let you out first. Most of the other kids couldn’t even form a sentence properly—and they were barely aware of some American habits and customs. It was like talking to little Tarzans, rescued from the forest.

“Sometimes... do you sometimes think about your life before?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Stop analyzing me,” he said, pretending to be angry, but he knew very well that the question had been asked by [y/n] and not by Dr [y/n] Brenner. He was avoiding answering you, which probably meant that yes, he often thought about it. When he was Peter, though he was still Peter when he walked into your room. He’d never be Number One there — you would never allow it. “I think of my father.”

You gulped, nervously, just like you used to do when you were a kid. 

There wasn’t much you knew about Peter’s life before he met your father, but you knew enough. He killed his parents, or at least he tried to kill his father, but only managed to end his mother and sister. You never knew his motives, for he never talked about it. All the info you had was given by your father, but he didn’t usually care for motives, only for results. So Dr Brenner theorized Peter killed his family because of something traumatic he must’ve been through, and that was enough. 

For you, however, the question always remained.

“Your father… he was imprisoned, right?” you asked, trying to play it casually. You had done your research, but in any way did you want to scare him.

Peter looked back at you, your elbows almost touching.

“He was,” he said as if he wanted to say more but just couldn’t.

“Sometimes, I wish my father went to prison,” you let out your guilty truth. You knew what your father did to the kids, you weren’t dumb. But you spent so many years trying to please him, that it was hard to imagine yourself doing anything that could jeopardize your papa. Besides, his research was important, the kids maybe did not receive the best of treatments, for the love Dr Brenner offered was only when the children had reached important achievements but wasn’t that the love he offered you, his very blood daughter?

You watched Peter as he frowned, clearly feeling sorry for you. Although that was one of the rare comments you made about your father that could indicate a bad upbringing, it was only presumed that the boy used by the doctor would assume that the man was not a good father.

“One day,” he said, “we’ll get out of here, huh.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ll get your fancy diploma and my crazy abilities and make a world of our own.”

“I don’t know about a world,” you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I’m happy with just a house.”

He tilted his head towards yours and the two of you just stayed there, in silence, enjoying each other’s company. There was so much to be said… but there was never the right time. You hoped Peter understood that dreaming of leaving was just that: a dream. You couldn’t escape your papa, and he could even less, as he was not just his whole research base but also his favourite prisoner.

~~

Peter wanted to protect you.

He always wanted to protect you, ever since he met you, the little girl in pigtails, walking in all nervous and looking at him as if you were surprised and scared at the same time. He was not much older than you, but somehow he knew it was his job to be the protector.

He saw through your mind — even though he didn't want to, it was inevitable with a power like his. He saw that you were just the perfect daughter even though your father was far from being the perfect papa you saw him as. He saw a mind as complex and smart as his and he was glad to find in you a twin soul.

Although he saw you grow old, he didn’t see you as often as he hoped, and there were weeks when he grew desperate, thinking Dr Brenner had done some evil against you, but then, all of the sudden, you were crossing the corridors following him around like a puppy, taller and prettier than the last time he saw you, and that was enough. It had to be.

However, three weeks before his nineteenth birthday, a guard came to his room, asking for him to accompany him for Number One had an appointment. Needless to say, Peter was very surprised when, opening the door, he found [y/n], dressed in white this time, just like the other doctors, but at the same time so different. She still had the same energy — a scared little genius. She looked pretty, more like a woman this time than the last, even though she was younger than him.

He was surprised, but he managed to pretend he was careless. What were you doing there, in a room all alone in the lab? He thought by now you’d be free of her father, but he was wrong. Or maybe you didn’t want to be free. Maybe you had become one of them officially. 

So he kept his cold distance, scared you were gonna run more tests with him.

But it wasn’t what you did.

In your first appointment, you just sat there and told him about your trajectory, similar to your first conversation when he was eleven years old, except this time you had managed to accomplish all of those things your father had only planned.

He listened to it all because, why wouldn't he? It was you after all. His weak spot. The one that would doom him. 

Before he knew it, he was anxious, waiting for your next appointment, and, although again, he remained silent and just listened to you, he noticed that he liked it. He just liked being in your presence.

Something happened then, something shifted, and before he knew it, he was telling you everything, all about the tests and the powers; powers you could not comprehend, but that didn’t stop him from trying to explain and eventually show them to you.

Friends, he supposed. You two were friends. He had never thought of calling someone that before, but perhaps it was fit for the little relationship you two had formed.

And since he defined you as a friend, it was no surprise that one day, Dr Brenner, the Dr Brenner, requested his presence in his office.

“Yes, Papa?” he hated to call the man that, he was bloody twenty-one years old, but if he called Brenner any other thing, he would be a dead man by the morning.

“I have been watching you closely, my boy,” he said, trying to put emotion in his words, but failing miserably. “And I think, as you’ve come of age, you should have a more important job here. Perhaps it’s time you help the other children, huh? Help them achieve their potential maximum, as I’ve done with you. You could be my left hand.”

Peter lowered his head, pretending to be honoured. There was no honour in serving Dr Brenner, but Peter knew it was better being a guard than being a subject. At least someone (the children) would stop looking at him like a child that grew too fast. 

“That would be an honour, Papa. I mean, sir, as I suppose should be the one I should call you now,” Peter said, testing the waters. “It wouldn’t be right for the kids to see that Number One is in charge but they aren’t, right?”

Dr Brenner took a second to observe.

“Right. It’d be best if they didn’t know you are Number One. let them think he grew and left for the world. You shall be… I forgot; what was your name from before again, my boy?”

“Peter,” he replied, but soon realised he did it too quickly.

The doctor stared at number One, analysing, pensive towards his easiness of recalling his name. He wasn’t supposed to be remembering that time of freedom, before the lab. 

Peter felt like that was his first test in the new position and he had just failed.

“Well, Peter, that shall be you calling from now on. Go to your room, yes? I’ll send someone to take your things to a new area of the building and explain your duties in the new position. But be clear that I’ll still expect you to continue training.”

“Sure. Thank you for the opportunity, sir.” And Peter left, not fast enough, but he did not stay to hear more — he just wanted to leave.

~~

“Who’s that?” he asked you, following the little girl that was accompanying your father as they passed down the hall.

“Eleven,” you said, as that was the number the little girl was designated and you had no idea what her real name was. “She’s been raised here, but isolated. Papa thinks she’s powerful.”

Peter crossed his arms, still following the girl with his eyes.

His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, and you liked it that way. Since he became a guard and helper, Dr Brenner cut him off from his appointments with you, so you were only able to see Peter if by chance you two crossed paths in the halls, like it was happening there.

It was unfortunate that you couldn’t see each other weekly, but you knew he would rather be a guard than be a ‘patient’, as you used to call and he used to hate it.

“Powerful how?”

“She had been through this whole way of birth… I don’t know how to explain it. She’s not a patient of mine,” you said.

“Why?” he questioned, genuinely interested.

“I don’t know. Papa says she’s too young. But I’ve talked to her, during some tests… She indeed seems very powerful. Talented.” You tilted your head, remembering the first time you saw Eleven.

“So she’s his new Number One,” Peter uncrossed his arms, only to smile at you, tossing his blond locks away from his eyes.

“You’re still number one,” unfortunately, you thought, a bit sad.

“Am I still the most talented and powerful person in the lab?”

“Oh,” you decided to provoke him. “I think Eleven wins.”

“How dare you!” he said, but he was laughing, and soon, so was you.

When you noticed the time on your watch, you decided to ask for a favour.

“Just… watch over her, huh? I feel like you’ll see her more than me, as it seems father won’t trust her over my surveillance. Eleven, she feels like she’ll need a friend.”

“You know you’re my only friend,” he said, and his expression was serious. He wasn’t lying.

“And you’re mine.”

He sighed. “I’ll watch over her.”

“Thank you,” you mouthed, soundless before leaving to go back to your job.

Peter watched as you left, reflecting on your plea. He saw in your mind that you cared for Eleven, more than you cared for the other kids. And if your request was for him to watch over the little girl, then he would be his bloody guardian if needed.

~~

“Happy birthday, doc.” 

You stared up from your cupcake with a candle on top to see Peter, also known as Number One, in your room. There were rare times when he would come in, especially after he stopped being your patient, so you were surprised with his visit, but mostly, you were concerned because he saw your sad moment with the birthday cupcake.

“Thank you, P,” you said, shrugging and blowing the candle. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say happy birthday. I know those things matter to you.”

You tilted your head while frowning before replying, jokingly, attempting to distract him from your real reasons. “It stopped mattering when I turned 25.”

“[y/n],” he smiled and walked in, closing the door behind, “you just turned 30. You’re not old.”

You were glad he decided not to mention your father — the real reason behind your sad birthdays. He never remembered, or he was always busy; you wish it didn’t matter, mainly as you grew older, but it still bothered you. Fortunately, you had Peter.

“I don't think I've mentioned it before but I like when you call me Peter,” he said, changing subjects.

“I'd never call you 001.”

“I know, but... you could call me Henry. It's better than the number,” he shrugged. “I like being Peter, the guy that works at the lab and not Henry the cursed son of a troubled man.”

You lowered your head, remaining in silence for you had not what to say after that.

“How’s Eleven?” you asked, because, as it seemed, you cared for the girl and it was a good way to change the subject. It was only natural to ask about her to the person who was spending at least ten hours per day with her.

Peter came closer to your chair, looking down at you with pity. It wasn’t as if Eleven was in danger (not more in danger than all of them) or as if she was a stupid child, but Peter didn't like that you cared that much. It made him care too, and that was unforgivable.

“She’s okay. The other kids don’t like her, but she’s managing,” he said.

You sighed. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

“Sure. It’s not as if your father isn’t experimenting on her or something.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like it isn’t the truth?” he replied, bothered that you didn’t like his sick joke.

“I know what my father does, ok? Do you think I like it?” you shouted, perhaps a bit too louder than needed. “Do you think I have any power against it?”

“No, but I do! I have power!” he yelled back. “Just say the word, [y/n], and we’ll burn this place to the ground.”

By place, you knew he meant your father. Your Papa.

And even though you had enough reasons to agree, you just couldn’t.

You sighed, giving up on the fight.  

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed too, and he placed one of his hands on your chin, forcing you to look back up, to look at him again. You allowed him, mostly because you were tired, but partly because it calmed you down to look at his beautiful blue eyes. “I didn’t come in here to fight. I wanted to give you a gift. For your birthday.”

You stared at him, confused. You could see his hands — there was no package in them.

But Peter’s gift… it didn’t need to be wrapt. 

Growing up with parents that loved each other was kinda gross, at least it was what young Peter thought, seeing them touching lips all the time. He didn’t understand the reason behind it, why would they need to kiss at every chance they got? 

Then, Peter came to the lab, he became Number One, his mother was dead, and he forgot all about it. He forgot the name of the feeling humans have, the one that curls up their stomachs and makes their hearts beat faster. He forgot it all until he didn’t. Until you showed up. And maybe his heart was racing, maybe he wanted to touch you.

Sometimes, brushing shoulders wasn’t enough.

So he remembered something, something lost in his past and probably unfamiliar to you too, as both had weird upbringings, but he thought it was just perfect. Peter knew he had to give it a try.

He raised his hand from your chin to your cheek and allowed the other to follow. Your eyes widened as you understood what was going on, but you did nothing to stop him. Hell, you had been waiting for that for decades.

You could leave the lab, you had access to movies. Even though there weren’t many kisses in your life — motherless childhood and all (besides the fact that you were always the nerd in school and life) — you desired to be kissed. You waited for that moment when you were fifteen, then at eighteen, then strong as ever when you were twenty (when Peter burst in celebrating being repositioned as a guard and not a simple number). 

So you let him and you responded to the kiss. You touched him too, pulling him by his golden hair that you so much admired, and you let your lips open just enough that he could understand the signal. And Peter understood, as he too wanted more — wanted to feel you, taste you, and not just lips and tong, but hands, oh, wandering hands that travelled from your cheekbones to your curves, to pull you close.

If first you were sitting and he had to lean down to reach you, that was in the past minute, because he managed to change your positions with ease, placing you over his lap as he sat on your chair.

“I think…” you started but he kissed you, silencing you.

“Don’t think,” he replied. “If you think, I’ll think.”

“Peter…”

You could feel his smile on your lips.

“Let’s reshape the world, [y/n],” he whispered, kissing your neck, “join me.”

His hands tightened on your back when he noticed you froze. Damn it, he thought.

“We can free all the numbers and we can remake this place, this world, however, we see fit.”

“Why are you saying this to me?” you asked, confused. You thought it was about kissing, but maybe this primitive form of touch awoke something in him. It was two desires combined and you were scared Peter wasn’t gonna forget it.

There was no escaping your father, as much as you liked to dream about it.

You kissed him again. “Forget it, Peter.”

You pulled him closer by the collar of his white shirt.

“Focus on me.”

“It’s all I’ve been focused on, [y/n]. Couldn’t you see? How desperate I am to leave but I stay? Why do you believe I stay?” he kissed you back but this time you pulled away. “Don’t think, [y/n].”

You tried to find his eyes, his calming blue eyes that you loved to stare at. You would see sense there. You would see the real him there.

And you saw the real him there.

Blue. Ice cold blue eyes.

“Peter, let me go,” you said, expecting him to drop his hands from your leg and back.

But he didn’t.

“You just kissed me, Peter, why can’t you enjoy it?”

He shook his head. “How can I? Do you think your father will give us his blessing?”

You closed your eyes.

“And even if he does, do you think he’ll leave us be? Do you think he’ll let my children be?”

You gulped. “You’re overthinking, Peter,” you said, trying to remain calm.

“With whom do you think I’ve to learn it?” his voice was louder and it echoed in the room.

“Let me go,” you asked, but he ignored you, he just kept going with his monologue about the world and freedom. “Let me go, Number One.”

He instantly dropped you. One minute you were on his lap, the other you were on the floor. You got up, adjusting your skirt, trying to get to the door.

“Why did you call me that, Dr Brenner?”

You gulped.

“Why did you have to call me that, Dr Brenner?!”

You finally reached for the door. You had the handle in your fingers. He wasn’t holding you anymore. It was going to be ok.

“Say you’re sorry, please, [y/n],” Peter said, his blue eyes looking deep into yours.

“I’m sorry I called you by your number, ok? It won’t happen again.”

“That’s not the apology I wanted to hear.”

“Peter…”

“I think I loved you, did you know that?” he asked, getting closer, step by step, slowly.

You just knew you were doomed because the goddamn door didn’t open no matter how hard you pulled or pushed.

“Loved?”

“I think you loved me too.”

“I love you too,” you said, in an attempt to save your life, even though it was the truth. 

“Tisk tisk,” he made the noise with his tongue. “Loved, dear. Loved.”

He didn’t even raise his hand before it all went dark.

[qsphyxias]

idk if your requests are open but i was wondering if you could write a (tom)peter parker x male reader fluff because i really enjoyed the other ones that you have written 🫶🫶🫶🫶 much love

if you read yaoi and/or bl regularly as a woman, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; peter parker x male! reader

warnings ; male (he/him) reader, cussing, (tom holland) peter parker, established relationship

note ; love me some classic peter parker fanfiction - and thank u for requesting!! not sure how long this has been sitting here for whoops

words ; 0.8k +

"Hey, boyfriend." You snickered, hanging your head over him. Multiple strands of hair followed your sudden movement — blocking your view of him, or rather, his view of you.

He looked up at your face and pushed the strands of your hair to the side of your face without thinking much of it. The smile he beamed right back at you made you feel as if he was trying to move away curtains that revealed a most breathtaking view — you, his wonderful boyfriend.

As cheesy as it sounded, the way you looked at him and leaned down made his mind play one of the most righteous theme songs of the Star Wars trilogy. The feeling of your face against his hand, the desire to just hold you and never let go, the heat of his blood rushing everywhere, it was scary. Peter could hardly think straight when you let a small smile shine through your expression, where was he supposed to look? What was he supposed to touch?

As if on instinct, Peter's hands that were once placed on either side of him on the bed, took action and slid up your waist to gain a little bit more control once he saw you close the distance a bit more by resting on your elbows instead of your palms when hovering over Peter.

His grip caught you by surprise, who knew he could be so initiating?

"Is... Is that okay?" He murmured, watching your expression, terrified he was maybe too assertive this time.

He already went through this struggle with where to touch, back when he thought he only liked girls — but now, it's different. Despite all those experiences, It's like he had to relearn everything about the boyfriend world. It's not the same, because this time, he's the one with the boyfriend, not so much the one having to worry about his role as the only boyfriend in the relationship.

And Peter really doesn't want to fuck it up with his boyfriend.

To his shock and awe, you snorted, dismissing all his worries with one single breath.

"Peter, your heart's made of pure gold, isn't it?" You sighed as you fully relaxed into your new boyfriend's arms, letting your arms slide underneath the small of his back and lock softly.

With your eyes closed, and ear against his heart, Peter could comfortably wear his expression of pure exasperation as he settled into your embrace — not having to worry about you reading his face.

"Uh," Peter leaned his head back against the pillows to think, causing his throat to relax under the pressure of gravity — producing a scratchy tone in his larynx, once could only describe it as infatuation-inducing. "Well, maybe. I mean, I let you be my boyfriend, didn't I? I must be a saint!" He joked, a complete 180 to his previous attitude as he attempted to lighten the heavy romantic tension. A smile adorned his face with ease as he looked down at you for a (hopefully) good reaction.

You opened your eyes to playfully glare at him, "I take back what I said; your heart's made of pure lego — it's completely evident."

Peter feigned offence, "Hey, what makes you say that?" getting a bit more comfortable, he rolled over to face you instead of having to crane his neck down, keeping his hands flush against your back throughout.

"The way your joints click and clack, the way you get all stiff and plastic-like when you get nervous, the way you're practically indestructible — not to mention how much space you allow Lego Star Wars to take up in your heart; there's lots of things, Peter. " You laughed near the end of your mini-speech, fiddling with the the collar of Peter's shirt right in front of your point of view.

"And hey, you're basically built like Lego Batman with those 12-pack abs. Not that I'm complaining..." Peter flushed at the blatant flirt directed at his body.

"I did not come here today to be berated, s/o." Peter chose to ignore the last thing you said, "and I do not get 'plastic-like' when I'm nervous." Peter frowned, to which you chuckled.

"You came here because you missed me, be honest." You corrected.

"Well... Yeah, but you don't have to say it out loud." He mumbled, his shy expression breaking into a grin when he saw you smile first.

"Why not? it's true, isn't it?" You closed the distance between the two of you even more, chest-to-chest, stomach-to-stomach, lips-to....

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned up to kiss him, shuddering when you felt his hand rub your back with a gentle force, pulling you impossibly closer to him to fully close the distance.

As the two of you kissed, Peter held you close and vowed to himself in his head, to always protect you. Because to protect you, means he'd be protecting precious moments like these.

[coffeeandbatboys]

In The Endgame (Peter Quill x reader)

A/N it took me an hour to find this specific GIF lol

Request: from Anon

hiii i saw you were taking requests for peter quill and was wondering if you could write something that takes place during endgame where everyone who got blipped comes back and peter and reader reunite since he got blipped but she didnt? just super emotional and fluffy? thank uuuuuu <3

Warnings: angst, fluff, emotion

No...

This wasn't supposed to happen.

You weren't supposed to die in space.

None of you were.

But Thanos had taken Gamora, and Peter, Drax, Mantis, and two of the Avengers you'd met all turned to dust right in front of you.

Your heart suddenly broke, knowing that Groot and Rocket were with Thor.

And now you were stuck in space with Nebula and Tony Stark.

Two people you were not incredibly fond of.

Once you were rescued and brought back to Earth, you learned that Rocket was alive, but Groot hadn't made it.

"What the hell happened to us, Kid?"

And even though he wouldn't admit it to anyone but you, he cried.

You cried for months after losing the love of your life.

But in the five years that followed that fateful day, you never moved on.

You kept yourself busy helping Rocket and Nebula to hold the Galaxy together and searching for Thanos while many of the heroes were 'dead'. And then one day, a bug dude showed up and brought the concept of time travel with him.

And this is how you ended up back on Morag in 2014.

It was the first time you'd seen Peter since he dusted. You desperately wanted to run to him and kiss him again, but this wasn't your Peter.

As he danced dramatically to 'Come and Get Your Love', you, Nebula and 'Rhodey'—as you'd been introduced—watched on at the utter ridiculousness.

Rhodey broke this silence.

"So he's an idiot."

You couldn't disagree.

"Yeah." You smiled sadly. "He's my idiot, though."

After all you'd been through there was no turning back now.

Portals opened everywhere in the ruins of the Avengers campus, and that's when you spotted Drax and Mantis, then—

Him. Your sweet, loveable idiot, Peter Quill. Sprinting over to join your found family once again, he spotted you and broke a smile. You returned it, giving him a desperate kiss when you reached him.

"I thought I lost you forever!" You cried, clinging to his jacket.

He looked confused. "It was only a few hours?"

Your head snapped up.

"Uh, try five years."

"What?..." He whispered, eyes widening as if horrified by the concept of you being alone for five years.

You turned towards Mantis and Drax, waving to them with a giddy expression. They both waved back, and you all faced the Mad Titan's army ahead.

And soon, you were right in the thick of it.

Lunging at a nightmarish humanoid creature, you blasted it before turning to cover Peter, who was fighting off two more. Once those were taken care of, you moved in and fought them back to back. Being close to Peter again felt like heaven, even in the battlefield.

Even when you saw all of the Female avengers joining to push back against the army, you were hesitant to leave Peter's side in fear that you'd lose him again.

"Go." He told you with a smile and a kiss. "I'll be here when it's over."

You ran after Mantis and Nebula, spotting...Gamora? You weren't sure how that worked, but you were glad nonetheless. It didn't feel right that Natasha wasn't there, but this, you felt, was to honor her. It was what she would want.

Fighting a pale squid looking thing, you watched over it's shoulder at Carol, the woman who had saved you in space, entering the fight. You cheered wildly and pumped your fist in the air. There was no way you would lose, now.

As you struggled with a Titan monster, you received some help from Groot, who skewered it with a thick branch while you blasted it in the head.

"Thanks, buddy." You high fived him.

"I am Groot."

"It's good to see you too!"

And all of the sudden, the Titans were disappearing.

It was then that you looked over to see Tony, slumped against a piece of wreckage, pale and barely breathing. It hit you that he had just snapped the enemy away, and that had drained everything out of him.

You shared a sad look with Rocket.

As dickish as Tony was, he had a good heart.

And he gave it all to save the world.

Everyone stood in silence as he breathed his last. And then one by one, they began to kneel. A king, a sorcerer, a captain, a soldier, an assassin, all from different backgrounds, honored one man. You kneeled and began to cry, knowing that he had a wife and daughter, one of which would be waiting for him.

After the funeral, you sat at the edge of the lake outside the Stark's cabin. Peter sat down next to you and slid an arm around your waist.

"He didn't have to do that." You bit back tears and leaned into him.

He signed deeply. "I don't think he saw a choice."

You had learned that Gamora, was in fact not the one you knew, but the one that didn't know any of you. The last you'd heard is that she'd run off in a ship from the battlefield.

"I missed you, Peter. You have no idea." You sobbed.

He pulled you closer "I'm sorry you had to go through that, babe."

"I...I couldn't bring myself to move on. You better treat Rocket right, too. He's the only reason I'm still here."

"I'm really glad you didn't. And, were on good terms, trust me."

You chuckled, giving a small smile.

"There it is." Peter crooned, kissing your jaw softly. "Wanna go get Dairy Queen before we head back out there?"

"Hell yeah!" You cheered.

[georgie-weasley]

Grinch Young R.L. x GN!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of depression, mentions of poverty, and just disliking Christmas

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Gender Neutral Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: Christmas was quickly approaching and everyone was excited but you. As the residential Grinch you were not looking forward to the holiday but turns out Remus Lupin is a Grinch as well.

A/N: Hello all! This is my first fic back after a break and I'm really glad to be back. Thank you to everyone who is still reading my stories and I love you all. Also this was inspired by my disliking of Christmas so I projected on the reader and Remus a smidge.

Masterlist Taglist

Christmas had exploded around Hogwarts. Pine trees were set up in just about every corner in every single room in the castle. Trees were taller than most of the students and covered in brightly colored baubles and tinsel and magic balls of light that changed color every minute. Garlands and wreaths covered the stone walls and the smell of gingerbread followed the students everywhere they went. The suits of armor broke out into Christmas songs and danced anytime someone passed by. The Great Hall was by far the most decorated part of Hogwarts with festive table runners, stockings hung on the fireplace, large real snowflakes on every surface enchanted to never melt, and the magical ceiling was snowing. It was horrible.

You had never been one to get into the Christmas spirit. The songs were annoying and wormed their way into your brain and never left. The decorations were everywhere and followed you around, literally while at Hogwarts. People were just insanely obsessed with Christmas and overly happy. They were happy to the point of it being creepy and fake and weird.

Possibly the worst was just how excited all of your friends seemed to be. James Potter, sunshine incarnate and your best friend, loved Christmas. He loved everything you hated about it. In fact, James had been talking about Christmas since the beginning of November and he never let you escape it.

“Happy 10th day of Christmas Y/N!” James’s bright and cheerful smile popped up between you and your book. The sudden appearance of his face made you jump, smacking him a little with your book.

“James! You absolute asshole! I’m trying to read.” You huffed and shoved him away as you tried to turn back to your book. The common room was quiet and the perfect place to read until now.

James only rolled his eyes and wedged himself into the miniscule space between you and the arm of the couch. “You know there is an entire couch open? Actually the whole common room is open but you had to sit practically on my lap?”

“Well yeah,” James chuckled as he tore the book out of your grasp and fully moved himself onto your lap. “I have to tell you what I want for Christmas! This year I want Lily Evans to date me.”

“Fat chance buddy. You’ve been wishing for that since you were 13. Give it a rest.” With one hard push, James fell off of your lap and onto the rug with a loud thud. “Besides, don’t you know you don’t get your Christmas wish if you tell it to the Grinch.”

James just looked at you with a wild smirk. “Then I suppose I’ll have to sing a song to reverse the curse!” He then burst into song, singing the Twelve Days of Christmas at the top of his lungs. You clamped your hands over your ears but nothing managed to block out the horrible sounds coming from James until the portrait opened and a figure sped by and body slammed James.

Sirius pulled James into a headlock while Peter quickly sprinted over and sat on James’s chest. “Please Prongs, we’ve talked about this. You can’t sing. Don’t ever try to do it again.” While James struggled to break free from Sirius and Peter, the fourth marauder sat in the open space next to you, his eyes already on his book.

You knew Sirius, Peter, and Remus but not like you knew James. Yes they were friends with your best friend but you never spoke to them unless it was for class or James made you. There was nothing wrong with the three of them. Actually, quite the opposite. You loved them and loved hearing stories about them but you never ran in the same circles. In fact, you didn’t see James as much as you used to either. You had grown up next door to him and as kids you two were always together. It’s not that you two aren’t friends anymore because clearly you are, you just don’t see him around as much.

James found Sirius, Remus, and Peter and never left them. You found your own friends and spent more time on your studies than James ever could. Sirius was fine and you waved to him in the halls. Peter would wave if he was with James or Sirius but not on his own. Remus never really acknowledged you. However, that never stopped you from looking at him. Since James had become friends with Remus Lupin, you were drawn to him. He was quiet just about all of the time but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sassy. You heard the way he would call out James and it was cutthroat. He was tall and handsome and rather mysterious in a way. Not to mention he was smart and was always seen with a book.

“Hey Grinch!” James's voice came from somewhere on the floor.

“What?” You and Remus both said. At the same time, you looked away from Remus as he looked away from his book to find James. Hearing Remus, you then looked at him while he looked at you.

For only a second, no one moved or spoke until James broke the silence. “Right, sorry. Forgot there’s two of ya. Moony?” Remus slowly tore his gaze away from yours to look at his friend who had continued speaking but you could hear none of it.

That was an interesting development. You had assumed James was talking to you since not only does he know about your distaste for Christmas but you called yourself Grinch not very long ago. But Remus also responded so Remus must also not be the biggest fan of Christmas. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for James to call him that or for him to respond.

The night slowly grew darker and while more and more students arrived in the common room, Remus never left the spot next to you. James, Sirius, and Peter eventually left to find some poor soul to bother but Remus remained, his nose still in his book. Honestly, it was making you a little nervous at this point. The man has hardly ever spoken to you since you were introduced back in third year. It's been three years since then and it wasn’t like you were much closer than before.

“You don’t like Christmas?” Remus mumbled, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He sounded almost disinterested.

“Yeah, I think it’s quite dumb to be honest.” You expected him to respond, like people usually do when having a conversation but he didn’t. He just hummed a little and went back to his book. “You don’t like it either?” If he wasn’t going to continue then maybe you would just have to make him. It brought almost a sense of hope thinking about the fact that maybe someone else wasn’t enjoying the season. You didn’t want someone to wallow around with but to have someone that wasn’t going to complain about your less than thrilled outlook would be really nice.

“I don’t. Never have.” Remus didn’t even bother taking his eyes off of his book as he answered. It could have been just your imagination but you thought you could just hardly see him smile. He suddenly closed his book and stood, his arm brushing yours in the process. Remus made it to the base of the stairs before he turned back around to look at you. “Hey Grinch.” As soon as you turned and he could see your face, he smiled. “See you later.”

---

At the Gryffindor table later that week, you had once again been minding your own business when James interrupted you. He sat across from you and smirked, reaching over to poke your arm. “Happy 14th day of Christmas, Grinch Number Two.”

“How come I’m the second?” You said with a roll of your eyes before you continued eating your breakfast.

“Because Remus is number one.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, I disagree. I knew you first.”

James hummed and shrugged. “I’ll take that into consideration. Did you talk to him after we all left?”

“Did you set that up James?” You asked with narrow eyes.

“No, I just simply called him the nickname I always give him this time of year which just so happens to be the same as yours and I assumed he would mention something about it to you after. Did he?” He leaned forward, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Yes.” James let out a cheer at your answer, getting him some weird looks from the whole room since he was so loud. Before you could chastise him for being so loud and obnoxious, Remus sat next to you. Which was very odd since before last night, he’s never sat next to you.

Immediately, James got up and moved further down the table to bother Lily. “Are you going home for Christmas?” Remus asked as soon as James was out of earshot. “The final day to sign up to stay here is Saturday.”

“Will you be staying?” You asked.

Remus nodded. “I stay every year.” He opened his mouth and closed it a few times before he evidently decided he didn’t want to say anything and kept it shut.

You could have gone home and while it would have been nice to be with family, you never actually stayed at the castle for Christmas. Now might be a good chance to do it. “I think I’ll stay. I go home every year; my family can survive without me for one year.”

He smiled and started adding food to his plate. “I’m glad you’ll be staying.” You were too busy trying to hide the blush on your cheeks to notice the blush on his.

---

As the holiday neared closer and closer, everyone got happier and happier. Well, everyone but you and Remus. While James and Sirius, who were also staying at Hogwarts, were planning a Christmas party and singing songs, you and Remus bonded over the opposite.

His least favorite song was We Wish You a Merry Christmas, he thought Santa was beyond creepy, and he found the smell of pine to be overpowering. You sat together at meals and laughed at people who were wearing festive outfits. He made you smile as he made faces behind peoples’ backs as they gushed over holiday traditions. On more than one occasion, he shoved James into a pile of snow when he was being too cheery. Remus Lupin was bringing you a lot of joy this season and you were not the only one to notice it.

James made it a point to tell you that this was the happiest he had ever seen both of you around this time of year. In fact, it almost looked like you were enjoying Christmas. You had scoffed at that and then proceeded to shove him into some snow but he did have a point. Remus was making you really happy and it's hard to be a grinch when you’re happy.

But it was nice being happy around the holiday and it was even nicer that Remus was the one making you so happy. You always found him attractive and you knew he was smart and funny but now you got to know just how sweet he was. Yes, he was poking fun at other people but he was doing it purely for your entertainment. He admitted one night after you two had made fun of a particularly ugly Christmas sweater that he never does this; he just liked hearing you laugh. Which made your insides turn into jelly and you couldn’t stop smiling. You also learned that he liked the same books as you and he was so passionate about reading.

He was extremely loyal to his friends and would do anything for them. He wasn’t great at expressing his feelings but he tried his best to let the people close to him know they were loved. He was brutally honest especially when it came to James and Sirius; he was always telling them how stupid they looked or when they were acting like idiots. You felt like a cliche Christmas romance movie but you were falling in love.

---

It was Christmas Eve and James had insisted all seven of the Gryffindors who had stayed needed to sleep in the common room. It was a tradition you two used to have as kids. The night before Christmas you two would sleep on the floor in the living room in front of the tree; you kept up with that tradition until you went to Hogwarts.

Of course before that, there was a party. It was nothing insane like the parties Sirius and James threw after winning a Quidditch game but it was still a party. There were snacks, drinks, games, and Christmas music, much to yours and Remus’s disappointment. You mingled for a while, which is more than Remus could say. He sat on one of the loveseats and only moved to grab more snacks. James tried to get him to play pin the nose on Rudolph but it was easy to guess how that went. While you also didn’t join in on the festive games, you stayed to watch. Sirius managed to get the nose perfectly on Rudolph which made James accuse him of cheating to which Sirius tackled him for ‘insulting his honor’. He confessed to cheating ten minutes later.

Many more games went on like that and after the fifth one, you found Remus still on the loveseat. As you approached, he moved so there would be more space for you. You sat in silence for a while before he spoke up. “Why do you hate Christmas, really?”

You had told him once you didn’t like the music and yes that’s true but it's not the only reason. “I guess I just don’t like how happy people pretend to be. There’s real genuine happiness like James but so many people aren’t happy. Life is horrible and nothing is going right but as soon as it's December, they pretend. It's ok to be unhappy during the holidays; you don’t have to pretend life is perfect just because it's Christmas.” You looked at Remus only to find him watching you. “Can I ask why you don’t like Christmas?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I never really had a good Christmas. My mom really struggled to be happy around this time of year, especially after…”

“After you became a werewolf?” His eyes grew wide and he started to shake. “No one told me,” you whispered and put a hand on his arm to calm him. “You just were always missing on the full moon and sometimes the day after. I figured it out. I don’t think of you differently.”

Remus took a minute to process the fact that you knew his deepest secret before he continued his story. “Yes, after I was bitten my mother was horribly depressed around Christmas. I think it made her remember everything and she couldn’t be happy. It also was harder for my parents to get money after since no one really wanted to be around us. I saw my parents struggle all month to save money to get me a gift. My mother especially would go without dinner just to waste money on some stupid toy. After seeing that, well it makes it hard to like Christmas.”

Your hand found his and you intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m sorry Remus.”

He shrugged a little and watched your hand as his thumb stroked yours. “It isn’t your fault. Actually, you’ve made this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He smiled and looked up at you, his cheeks a dusty rose.

“You’ve made this my best Christmas as well.” It was then something bumped your head, causing you to look up. Behind the loveseat was James who had tied some mistletoe to a stick and was holding it over your head. Remus followed your gaze and sighed, rolling his eyes. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Do you want to?” Remus whispered. You knew James could hear every word you were saying despite him pretending not to listen but you didn’t really care.

“Yes.” You hardly finished the word before Remus leaned down and brought his lips to yours. Immediately your arms wrapped around his neck and brought him closer if it was even possible. His hands found your waist, lips moving against yours in perfect sync. Unfortunately, the kiss had to end so you could breathe.

Remus nudged your nose with his. “Now it’s the best Christmas ever.”

Taglist

@100gaysnails @weasleybuns @s1aaaaayyyyyyyt @steelthistle @jsjcue @Andy200700 @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @daisydark @creepybloodykitty2 @avatheveela @themarauderswife7 @mintyme101

[matchingbatbites]

you're the inspiration

@steddie-week Day 5: Established relationship This starts out kind of panicked, but it does have a happy ending!

Eddie knows he isn’t brave. He knows how to stand up to bullies, how to make himself seem big and untouchable, but actually having to face danger, something that could cost him his life? No, he’s a coward all the way. He’s spent the last few days more afraid than he’s ever been in his entire life, the only relief being the familiar faces around him, helping him navigate this nightmare. 

Every single moment of fear from the last week is overshadowed when he hears Robin Buckley’s terrified, wailing “Steve!” from the Munson living room.

He moves without thinking, rushing to the living space from the bedroom with Dustin hot on his heels, and his heart stops when he sees Steve standing in the center of the room, eyes white and unseeing.

Robin is frantic, her hands hovering over him like she wants to grab him but is afraid to. "We- We need a tape! Springsteen or Tears For Fears or something!"

The others start digging around in their bags, trying to find an appropriate tape, but Eddie knows that even if they find one, none of them will work. He shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out the tape he had thankfully grabbed from the stereo in his van, and prays that it’s dry enough after his unexpected dip into Lover’s Lake as he crams it into the nearby cassette player. 

The kids are talking over each other, almost unintelligible as Eddie lets the tape rewind as much as possible, trying to get back to the first song. When he presses play he’s flooded with relief as he hears the familiar sound of Peter Cetera.

And I know, yes, I know that it's plain to see

We're so in love when we're together

He cranks up the volume to it's max and shoves it as close to Steve as possible while leaving it plugged in, sending the rest of the group into silence.

Robin looks at him, and her fear thaws a little, hope taking its place as she realizes what song is playing.

Dustin’s eyes snap from Steve to the radio, to Eddie. “What are you doing? He doesn’t even listen to this stuff!”

Now I know (Now I know)

That I need you here with me

From tonight until the end of time

Eddie ignores everyone else as he steps closer. He can’t stop himself from reaching for Steve, he needs to touch him, needs to bring him back to them. He marvels again at how Steve’s face was made to fit in his hands, and Eddie finds that he wants nothing more than to hold it for the rest of his life. 

He mutters a soft “Come back to me, baby,” that goes unheard over the sound of Chicago blaring from the nearby speaker.

You should know

(Yes, you need to know)

Everywhere I go

Steve starts to lift off the floor and one of Eddie's hands slides around to the back of his neck, trying to keep him grounded. He needs to break through the curse Steve is under, needs to stop it, and he barely notices Dustin grabbing onto one of Steve’s arms as he starts to sing along, trying to coax his boyfriend back to reality. 

“You're always on my mind. You're in my heart, in my soul.”

He can't lose Steve. They haven't been dating long - fuck, they haven't even hit six months yet - but Eddie knows that Steve is it for him. 

Dustin had opened his eyes to the change in Steve's heart, and after a few run-ins with the former jock he had seen it himself. He made a point to get to know this new Steve, away from prying eyes or people who might cause him to be anything less than his genuine self, and Eddie fell ass over tit in love with what he found.

“You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration."

The younger had eventually opened up to Eddie about his relationship failures, about how sometimes he feels completely unlovable, and Eddie took a risk. He made the leap, offered to be the one to love Steve if he would just give Eddie a chance.

Surprisingly, Steve had agreed, and Eddie followed through. He loved Steve recklessly, even as they kept it secret for their own safety, even though Steve didn't feel quite the same at first.

Now, they like to joke that Eddie fell fast, but Steve fell hard. 

"You bring feeling to my life, you're the inspiration."

It was the smallest thing, in the end. Eddie made him a gift, a mix tape lovingly dubbed the Sunshine Mix, and Steve had cracked a joke about Eddie titling it like that to trick him into listening to metal. 

"No tricks, angel. Just some songs that make me think of you."

They popped the tape in right then, and Steve had seemed pleasantly surprised when Chicago started flowing from the speakers of Eddie's van. Eddie grinned at Steve's wide-eyed expression as they sat through the first verse, and he couldn't help but join in with the chorus, singing directly to Steve.

"Wanna have you near me, I wanna have you hear me sayin'!"

And in that moment, three months into their unexpected friendship, one month after Eddie started to love Steve without abandon, Steve just- Kissed him. He reached over and took Eddie's face in his hands and kissed him, more gentle than anything Eddie had ever experienced. 

When he pulled back he was looking at Eddie with stars in his eyes, and the older could feel his heart skip a beat as Steve sang to him softly.

"No one needs you more than I need you."

Steve blinks and white gives way to warm hazel, and Eddie barely catches him as he falls back to Earth with a gasp. Eddie holds him tight as they tumble to the ground, and Steve grabs him in turn as a sob rips through him. 

“Eddie.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you, I promise.”

He presses his face into Steve’s hair as he rocks them gently, eternally grateful when he hears Robin shooing the teenagers outside with a soft “He’s okay, just give them a minute.”

They’re going to owe everyone an explanation, and Eddie is already preparing himself for the menace that Dustin will be when he finds out that he's the reason Steve and Eddie even started talking.

For now he just holds Steve, fingers digging into the denim of Eddie's vest that Steve is still wearing because Eddie was supposed to be getting him a shirt to change into.

It takes a moment for Steve to calm down, for his breathing to return to normal. He laughs wetly as the song fades out and Toto starts to play over the speaker. 

"Do you just keep this tape on you all the time?"

"Course I do. You never know when you might have to save your boyfriend from evil wizards from an alternate dimension."

Steve laughs again and pulls back enough to look at Eddie's face, and they shift a bit so they're sitting more comfortably.

"Hi," he mutters. 

Eddie can't resist leaning in, nudging their noses together gently. "Hi yourself. You scared the shit outta me, baby."

"M'sorry," Steve replies quietly, and Eddie presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

A sharp “Henderson!” comes from outside, and Steve and Eddie both jump when the door slams open hard enough that it almost bounces off the interior wall. Dustin barrels inside and practically throws himself onto Steve, nearly in tears as he asks “Are you okay?!”

Steve laughs softly and pulls the kid into a tight hug. “Yeah, I’m okay. That bastard has nothing on Chicago."

Dustin grumbles something into Steve's shirt before he pulls away, and the others start filing back in as he looks between Steve and Eddie and says "Explain."

Edde glances at Steve, who shoots him a look. “How about we get through this, and we’ll tell you everything, top to bottom. Deal?”

The kid is hesitant, but eventually relents and allows Steve to pull him back into his arms, and Eddie is only a little uncomfortable when the other teens join the pile, each needing their own reassurance that steve is okay.

He just lets it happen, pulls the whole bundle of them closer as they take a moment to calm down before the real terror begins.

[meganslife]

Pen pals - p. parker (part four)

pairing; TASM! peter parker x fem! reader

read part one, part two, and part three before this!!<3

summary: you land in new york with no difficulties, besides one. you realized that peter was kind of cute, maybe more. maybe sleep would drown your thoughts out?

a/n: hey guys!!! idek how many more parts i’m gonna make. maybe like 3 more. idk. bare with me. i’m kinda just going with the flow. anyway, enjoy reading💗💗

Peter knew that you’d be feeling many things after the flight. Jet-lagged, hungry, tired, and maybe crabby. He tried to prepare the best he could. The 3-hour jump ahead in time for you might take a while to get used to. He had everything waiting back at home.

Peter wanted to be cool and collected. But, he wasn’t. His heart was pounding with worry.

“What if I don’t meet her expectations?”

Peter’s question earns an annoyed glare from May.

“Be serious, Peter,” May lightly smacks his arm, “Y/N flew all this way to come see you. Why would she have any expectations? She clearly likes you for who you are.”

Peter sighs, anxiously waiting by the gate you would come out of any minute now.

“Does she?” Peter asks, “I mean, she doesn’t know I’m–”

May nudges him. “Your girl’s here.”

And there you were.

You had clearly just been sleeping, the squint in your eyes was evidence of that. You had on a basic outfit, athletic shorts, and a baggy T-shirt. You looked even prettier in person, just like he predicted. Peter couldn’t form any words to signify where he was, all he could do was walk toward you, accidentally walking into people in the process.

When you finally notice Peter, he was only a couple of steps away.

You drop everything in your hands, not caring about it going everywhere.

Peter doesn’t even say anything before hugging you. It was a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re real,” Peter says, squeezing you tightly- not planning to let go.

“I’m real,” You sniffle, squeezing him right back.

Peter pulls back slightly, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry,” He coos, “Happy tears, right?”

You nod, looking up at him. His calloused fingers were on your face, taking in every feature.

“You’re really tall,” You laugh, hugging him again.

Peter kind of wants to cry too. Your perfume, soft hair, and warm skin were so overwhelming. It was a good kind of overwhelming.

“May’s waiting for us,” Peter smiles.

You resort to holding Peter’s hand as you grab your stuff and walk over to May.

May was on the verge of tears too. She hugged you and whispered something in your ear that Peter wished he could hear because whatever she said made you flustered.

“Stop it, May,” You laugh, “He’s literally right here.”

You and May were still hugging. Peter raises an eyebrow at May, to which she shrugs and kisses your cheek.

“Shall we go home now?” Peter asks, interlinking your fingers once again.

“Shall,” You snort, walking off with May. Peter follows close behind, holding your suitcase.

The ride to Peter and May’s place was fascinating to you. Peter could see it written all over your face.

“New York is weird,” You look over at Peter while the three of you are on the train.

“The weirdest,” Peter agreed. “One day I was sw– walking around, and a guy in a huge dinosaur costume approached me and somehow knew my name. It was really strange.”

“Hm,” You nodded, resting your head on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter looked over at May when he saw your eyes close. He smirked, and May smirked right back.

When you all made it back home, Peter showed you around.

“There’s the bathroom- and uh, I got you some stuff,” He says shyly, holding up a little box labeled ‘Y/N’s’. “Toiletries. I didn’t really know what to get, so May tried to help.”

You frown.

“What? I thought I was being chivalric here,” Peter grins.

“Did you actually buy me all of this? This is expensive stuff, Peter.”

He looks away, setting down the box. “You’re not gonna want to see my room.”

“Peter,” You sigh.

“Just– come here,” He grabs you by your wrist and leads you to his room.

Peter opens the door to his room, and you’re met with a lot of things. On his bed, he displayed all of your favorite treats, along with a little teddy bear dressed as the Statue of Liberty.

You look at Peter with wide eyes. He can tell that you’re almost on the verge of tears.

“I would’ve bought more touristy stuff, but I figured you might want to do some yourself…” Peter shrugs, leaning in his doorway. “Come here, bug. You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” You say, voice barely a whisper as you walk over to him.

Peter hugs your shoulders. “What’s wrong, then?”

You fidget with his hoodie strings. “It’s hard to believe that you’re real.”

“I’m real, I promise,” Peter whispers, kissing your forehead.

Peter was doing everything in his power to not confess his undying love for you right then and there.

~

Nighttime rolled around quicker than expected. The first day in New York was mostly spent in the house, but you wouldn’t have traded it for anything. You, Peter, and May played Uno. May demolished you both. Peter swore that it was just a lucky day for her. You laughed, replaying Peter’s frustrated groans in your head over and over again-

Ugh.

That’s the other problem. Stupid Peter and his stupid face, voice, and mouth. How dare he be sculpted like a god? How dare he have such a scratchy, soothing voice? It’s quite literally driving you crazy, and you haven’t even been here for a day.

“Are you sure I can take your bed?” You ask, putting on one of Peter’s hoodies.

He gulped. “Yeah! Yeah- it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Can’t have a pretty girl sleeping on that old couch, right?” He kisses your cheek and grabs his backpack. “Sorry I have to go. Night classes are so stupid.”

“It’s okay,” You shrug, “Are you gonna sleep in here?”

“I can if you want me to.”

You nod, “Can you?”

“Of course, lovie. Go lay down, now. It’s late,” Peter guides you to his bed, his hand on the small of your back. He tucks you in, smiling widely. “‘Kay, bye!”

And then he leaves. You cuddle with one of his pillows, and it smelled like him.

You were so fucked.

~

At around 2 am, you are rudely waken up by something falling loudly and a not-so-whispered curse.

You assume it’s Peter trying to navigate being in the dark after getting home from his class. Wanting to surprise him, you tip-toe down the stairs, and sneak through the living room.

Instead of being met with Peter, you’re met with… Spider-Man?

Wait.

That can’t be right.

Why is Spider-Man, New York’s hero, digging in May and Peter’s fridge, eating everything he sees?

Your first instinct is to back away. Maybe he thinks this is his house. He doesn’t break into houses, does he?

Then, your foot steps on a creaky floorboard, and Spider-Man looks up from the fridge.

You are met with none other than Peter’s wide, brown eyes staring at you.

— read about me and find my masterlist here :3

[takenbypeter]

CatCalling

Peter Parker x reader

Words: 563

Number 13: “I’m sorry, I wasn’t catcalling you, I was catcalling my buddy.”

Author’s note: in this one reader isn’t particularly too fond of spiderman

You hated walking home late. If anything you did your best to avoid it, but sometimes it was just unavoidable.

You figured it was only a ten minute walk from where you were, you'll be fine. But of course after minute five when you turned down a practically empty street you heard it.

“Hey, over here pretty girl.”

Immediately you felt your heart start to beat erratically. But you just gripped your bag tighter and kept walking. It was a moment before the next one came, “oh come on don’t be like that.” The voice seemed unthreatening but you weren’t about to turn around and find out so you kept walking forward with your hand slowly reaching for the mace you keep along the strap of the bag.

“I’m talking to you,” you heard from further away and you know from every true crime case ever, not to stop or interact but since the voice was far away you figured it was okay enough, “just leave me alone!” Is what you shouted peeking over your shoulder to look at who the voice belonged to. And that’s when you saw him, in his blue and red spandex spider suit, mask and all. He was bent down with his hand directed towards a thin cat a little ways back with his head facing your direction now.

And at the sight of the mask that you’ve seen practically everywhere, you let out a breath that you were holding while your grip on your bag straps loosened. The figure’s head turns towards the cat then back at you before he stands up with his hands open to you, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t catcalling you, I was catcalling my buddy.”

After a moment of calming your nerves you grumbled out, “you’d think a so-called superhero would have a little more common sense.”

He heard that. “Woah. That’s a little harsh don’t you think?”

“Not really,” you let out another deep breath, nerves near to fully calmed by now as you turned back around to continue your path. “Wannabe superhero. Scaring me half to death, I practically had a heart attack. That man really needs to work on his people skills.”

You heard his voice closer to you but still a ways back, “still have ears and still can hear everything you're saying, but I am sorry though.” That slowed your strides a little while he continued, “I should’ve been more careful with my wording.”

At least he was wise enough to apologize.

You tilted your head at his words, finding the whole situation slightly forgivable, he was after all helping a cat.

“It’s okay,” you glanced at the cat before shaking your head and offering a final smile, figuring that was the end of that but he spoke again, “you seem a little on edge are you okay?”

You straightened up at his question trying to portray confidence, “I’m fine thank you.”

“Are you sure? Because I could make sure you get to wherever it is safe, I am as you said a superhero after all.”

“I said wannabe,” you remind, and although you wanted so badly to push the idea away it definitely wouldn’t hurt to have a so-called superhero escort you.

“Okay but don’t follow me too closely,” you said. And off you two went.

Hmm guess the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man title was true after all.

-

Dialogue Prompts

[excavatinglizard]

✨ Hello all it is that time once again!! ✨

Do you like queer sci-fi and fantasy? Do you see the same books recommended everywhere? After a year I’m back with a collection of strange and sometimes dark books that you may have heard of, but I hope I’ve found a few you haven’t! I’m just chucking these into the void so if you enjoy these recs or have read any, let me know!

Meet Us by the Roaring Sea, Akil Kumarasamy

Honeycomb, Joanne M Harris

Hot Head, Simon Ings

Are You Listening, Tillie Walden

Hell Followed With Us, Andrew Joseph White

Enigma, Peter Milligan and Duncan Fegredo

Ninefox Gambit, Yoon Ha Lee

Salt Slow, Julia Armfield

Never Have I Ever, Isabel Yap

All the Hometowns You Can’t Stay Away From, Izzy Wasserstein

I’ll put the full descriptions below the cut, but as always I’d love to hear if you have any more recommendations!

Meet Us by the Roaring Sea, by Akil Kurasamy

Meet Us by the Roaring Sea by Akil Kumarasamy was one of the strangest books I’ve read this year, but also one of my favourites by far. This is a story within a story, following both the near-future second-person narration of a woman training an AI while grieving her mother, and the lives of a group of Tamil medical students. This is a story about grief and the sensationalization of war and the things we do to live each day—but at its heart, it’s a story about women who love each other in whatever way they can. This book has some of the most gorgeous prose I’ve encountered in a long time, and it’s strange and meandering and contemplative.

Honeycomb, by Joanne M. Harris

Honeycomb by Joanne M. Harris follows the well-trodden path of fairy stories—a child swapped, a woman seeing what she was never meant to and being blinded for it—and slowly expands into an intricate web of stories and characters. Worlds within worlds within stories make up this book, and the illustrations by Charles Vess bring everything to life. The characters in these stories feel ancient in a way I can’t explain, and if you enjoyed the Starless Sea you’ll almost certainly enjoy this.

Are You Listening, by Tillie Walden

Are You listening is a book that I’ve picked up over and over again—it’s a graphic novel which I can finish in one sitting, and each time I have to sit and think and just feel afterwards. This is a story of a girl who’s run away from home, and who encounters another woman heading on her own way. What started as an escape becomes a road trip across Texas full of cats and shifting roads and tiny quiet moments. Strange and dreamlike at times, this book manages to make me cry over each character and their individual stories every time.

Tw for references to SA

Hell Followed With Us

Hell Followed With Us is one of those books that I didn’t realize how hard it was hitting me until I finished and couldn’t function for two hours. This book follows a young man in a world plagued by a disease that makes mindless monsters out of its victims—only he’s been infected by the church he was raised under, and he’s slowly turning into something much worse. Benji tries to escape, but his past isn’t ready to let him go just yet and the infection is only getting worse. The author describes this book as beginning as a ‘fit of rage’, which is truly the only way to describe it. While this is technically a YA book, beware of body horror, transphobia, religious extremism and disease. Somehow this book managed to look inside me and see so many things I’d never been able to put into words, all bundled up in a mass of viscera and grieving boys.

Enigma, by Peter Milligan

I discovered this comic through a newsletter from Charlie Jane Anders, and then proceeded to absolutely lose my mind over it and have to tell everyone I know about it. Enigma is a story about a man stuck in a dead-end job and a dead-end relationship, who suddenly finds that the characters of his favourite childhood superhero comic have come to life. The art style is gorgeous though it changes throughout the book, and Enigma swerves between a vast and bizarre story of gods in wells and far too many lizards, to incredibly intimate moments and interesting characters. Be prepared for body horror and a constant general sense of unease.

Ninefox Gambit, by Yoon Ha Lee

If last year was giving in to reading Gideon, this was my year of going insane over Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee (this is sadly the only space opera on this year’s list). Ninefox Gambit has everything I love in science fiction—casually queer characters, intricate universes, strange definitions of self and TRAUMA. Someone please get these two some therapy. When a major position of power is attacked, Kel Cheris finds herself with a promotion to general and the disgraced strategist who massacred his crew inside her head. The thing that stands out to me about Yoon Ha Lee’s work is his characterizations—even the most minor character has quirks to make them feel like a person, which is only stronger in the main characters.

Salt Slow, by Julia Armfield

Saltslow is the first of three anthologies on this list, and it’s the debut collection by Julia Armfield (who wrote Our Wives Under the Sea. For an idea of what you’re getting into). Following the trend of strange and a little dark this year, a lot of these stories border on horror and explore experiences like losing your ability to sleep, shape shifting through puberty and being a roadie to a band that leaves mass violence in its wake. While Our Wives Under the Sea will definitely stay my favourite Julia Armfield book, Saltslow managed to pack a whole lot into such short stories full of queer women and trans feels.

Never Have I Ever, by Isabel Yap

I picked up Never Have I Ever on a whim and I’m so glad I did, since it definitely ranked in my top anthologies of the year. Never Have I Ever is a collection of short stories, often centered around Filipino and Japanese folk lore (although there is one story about a wizard in San Francisco making a love potion, what of it). This collection ranges from funny to sad and explores Filipino culture, the anti-drug campaigns and the horror that is growing up. Often short stories feel unfinished but every part of this collection felt well thought out and polished, plus the cover is gorgeous.

All the Hometowns you Can’t Stay Away From, by Izzy Wasserstein

The final anthology, All The Hometowns You Can’t Stay Away From is mostly sci-fi with a handful of fantasy-leaning stories, though whatever technology there may be takes a back-seat to the characters who stood out as the heart of each piece. Unplaces, a story set up as a researcher’s notes in the margins of an atlas, desperately trying to make the world a better place in whatever way she can, and Everything the Sea Takes, It Returns—a story about living after the end of the world—were the two that really stuck with me. The writing here is perhaps more straightforward than some other entires on the list, but each story is a perfect little piece of character and emotions which truly make an excellent anthology.

Anyway, that’s this year’s list! Go forth and read more strange queer books, and support your local libraries!

[princessconsuela120]

✯EVERYWHERE, PT3✯

—✯

Summary: Sirius has found hatred for the new girl at Hogwarts, or in other words…you.

Warnings: cursing, not many, just annoying sirius as always.

Author’s Note: I already love this series so much. I have at least 5 chapters planned as of now, so it’ll be quick and sweet. For now, enjoy you guys!

—✯

Now, a week ago Sirius never would have imagined finding himself following y/n sallow around Hogwarts, not a clue where he was going. Ever since he had gotten to Hogwarts, Sirius had an unnerving opinion on every wizard he would meet. Considering he had grown up in such a troubling environment, his only opinion on wizards was bad. He didn’t want to live around people like his family all his life. So when he met James Remus and Peter, he assumed they must have been three in a million. He clung to them, never letting anyone else in their little circle because it was already perfect. That is until Remus found friendship in Lily and Marlene. Then came Dorcas, then Mary, and then Sirius started to feel a little more comfortable in his skin.

But when y/n joined in their 5th year, Sirius didn’t like the change in his comfortable life. He hated the change that it brought. Wether she was a Hufflepuff or a Slytherin didn’t matter, she was something new. Sirius didn’t like new. That why he wasn’t sure why, but he was astounded to be following her around Hogwarts. His obsession with change somehow managed to bring him even closer to it. Which of course meant that he wouldn’t shut up the entire walk.

“Where are we going?” He grumbled, following y/n with a brisk clip as he grunted, trying to keep up with her.

“You’ll see.” She whispered, her wand illuminating the only source of light for them to see through the hallway. Now Sirius was all for break ruled, but he usually didn’t sneak out after curfew without James cloak. This was new, he hated it.

“I don’t like this…how do I know you aren’t leaving me to my death?” He teased, making y/n scoff.

“What if I am?”

“You’re being awfully cryptic..” he hissed, making y/n smirk.

“Good.” She nudged him before heading forward, waving her wand around, seeming to follow a certain trail left on the ground. “You don’t need to know anymore than I’m willing to tell you.”

She stopped walking, stopping in front of a tapestry of two trolls, one which looked familiar to Sirius. He stepped back, his jaw slightly agape as he watched the brick wall across from the tapestry reveal a door. It’s not that he hadn’t seen magic like this before, just that he and James had been trying to access the Room of Requirements for years now and she just did it in two seconds.

“The room of requirements.” He muttered, causing y/n to nod.

“You’ve heard of it?” She asked softly, leading him into the room.

“Yeah, I just never knew where it was. Every professor refused to tell me.”

He rolled his eyes, causing y/n to chuckle softly.

“Yeah well, joining in my 5th year does have some perks.”

The two finally were into the room after walking through the small archway at the entrance. Sirius couldn’t help but Woden his eyes when they walked in.

He would be even more astounded in a week from now, when he finds y/n’s house elf, Bucky, who takes the time to take care of the room while she’s gone. But Bucky was on a trip to visit a few Jobberknoll’s in the highlands at the moment, directed to do so by y/n, so when he does return with seven jobberknoll’s in a small pocket sized bag, Sirius decided he would never not be amazed by y/n and her secrets.

“Wow, it’s huge in here! It seemed so much smaller from the outside.” Sirius exclaimed, standing in the center of the room as he looked around. The walls and ceilings were adorned with a yellowish gold shade, accompanied by many hanging plants and potting stations. It had a certain herbology flair too it, not surprising Sirius considering y/n was top of their herbology class.

“It’s magic, what can I say.” She shrugged, as Sirius pointed at one of the large archways in the room.

“Is that, a unicorn poster on that window?” He asked, confused by the appearance of said poster, which was glowing white, a unicorn coming in and out of view the more he looked at it.

“Actually it’s a real unicorn.” Y/n said, reaching her hand through the doorway to gently pet the unicorn’s main, conjuring a brush before pulling her hand back and letting the unicorn be groomed. “That’s one of my great grandmother's vivariums. I use it to contain magical beasts to protect them from poachers. A way of continuing her legacy, sort of say.” She stepped inside, pulling Sirius with her, his hand lighting up at the feeling of her touch. “Besides, it’s wonderful to see which beasts she brings in.”

She stepped off to the side, quickly refilling the beast feeding station, causing a few magical creatures to hurry over to eat before the two left through the doorway.

“Oh, great, you guys are in here too.” Sirius snarled, gesturing to the painting of Sebastian and Constance that hung in the center of the room, being the centerpiece to one of the main archways.

“We’re all around the building actually.” Sebastian said with pride, causing Sirius to roll his eyes.

“What a joy.”

“Come on, it’s over here.” Y/n said, grabbing Sirius’ arm once again as she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Over here? You mean this room is bigger?” He asked, once realizing one of the four archways contained a staircase, which lead down to another large room. “It’s like a freaking garden in here?!” He said with amazement, gawking at the thousands of potting tables bursting with plants. There were cauldrons bubbling with colorful potions, and potting tables with venomous tentaclulas, which shook slightly when harvested. Sirius couldn’t believe his eyes, it was beautiful.

“It is, it works great for planting and potions.” Y/n explained, gathering a bit of wiggenwield potion in a small bottle before handing it Sirius.

“No wonder you’re so ahead of everyone.” He teased, rolling his eyes as she scoffed.

“It’s in here.”

“What is?” Sirius asked cautiously, causing y/n to sigh once again.

“The answers to your questions.”

She lead him to another white archway, which when pulled in revealed a small chamber. The chamber was full of chests, which held different outfits and accessories which looked to be from the 1800s. But maybe the most impressive thing about the room, was the bundle of Nifflers swimming in the gold. Their were purple one, blue ones, brown ones; every color niffler you could imagine were all running around together in the same chamber.

“Are those, Nifflers?” Sirius asked, trying to shake one off his leg as it attempted to pull his chain off his trousers.

“Yes, they’re mine actually.” She explained, picking up one of the blue ones and scratching its head, causing the niffler to happily snuggle into her arm.

“Holy shit…”

If Sirius thought he was speechless before, he was kidding himself. Y/n pulled him into the locked door behind where all the nifflers had been hanging up, revealing a large costal like vivarium. From the distance, Sirius could see a large figure standing, but he didn’t notice what is was. He was distracted by the hippogriffs flying around in the sky above his head, before he finally looked back down, and came face to face with a trap horn. It was sitting up, gently bowing its head to let y/n pet him as she rubbed its nose.

“Be respectful. This graphorn has been around for Merlin knows how long. He’s a symbol of my grandmothers power. The guardian of the Pensive.” She explained, Sirius watching as the Graphorn moved to the side. Y/n stepped forward as a small birdbath looking statue that had been hidden behind the graphorn. “That’s where we’ll find your answers.” She said, gesturing for the two of them to carefully put their faces in the water. Sirius knew what a pensive was, but he had never experienced one before.

It was like he was there, watching Constance and Sebastian fight the goblins. The defeat, the journey, the grief. The story played all of her memories, all up until the repository was drained, before Sirius and Y/n pulled away with a deep breath.

“Woah. So that’s, that’s what you have?” He asked, causing y/n to nod.

“Yes, the ancient magic.”

The two made their way out of the vivarium, locking the chamber doors as they returned to the seats in front of the painting.

“How though… I thought the final repository was destroyed during the battle?” Sirius said, causing Constance to speak up as she sighed from the painting.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Sebastian said, drawing their attention back to the painting.

“For the last two generations, ancient magic has been lost from our family. That is, until y/n.” Constance explained, causing Sirius to shake his head, trying to understand the information he was being told.

“Which must mean there’s a repository somewhere left.” Y/n spoke up, causing Sirius to furrow his eyebrows at her.

“We think that when I had passed, my magic manifested itself into a repository, somewhere around Hogwarts.” Constance explained, making Sirius bite his lip as he thought of the memories he just witnessed.

“Could it be under the school, like it was before.”

“We aren’t sure.” Sebastian said with a sigh. “The only way to be sure is for me to go find it.”

“Go find it? Isn’t that dangerous?” Sirius said, turned to y/n with a look of concern.

“Could be. It’s not like I have much of a choice.” She said with a shrug, causing Sirius to look at her strangely, not understanding her idea to jump into the danger he had just seen.

“Why not?”

“The death eaters… word travels fast in Hogwarts.”

Now he knew that was true. Growing up in a family of death eaters, he had his own experience with the kind.

“Lucky for us, there weren’t many dark wizards to worry about, just the three. You guys have many different to worry about.” Sebastian explained. Y/n grabbed Sirius’ arm, causing him to turn to her.

“If the death eaters get word of this repository, they can do just as Ranrok did. If they learn how to harvest the power, it’s only a matter of time before their power takes over.” She explained, making Sirius nod with understanding.

“So this is bad.” He stated, causing her to nod.

“Very bad.”

“When are you planning on finding this repository! I mean, you can’t go alone, you’ll die.” Sirius stressed, pacing back and forth as he ran his fingers through his hair. Y/n was confused at his outburst, only having seen him stress this much when accusing her of dark magic to his friends. And yes, she did hear when he did that.

“I have to.” She said, clenching her jaw and she rolled her eyes at him. “What, are you gonna follow me?”

“What? No.” He crossed his arms, avoiding y/n’s eye contact as he grew with sass. “I don’t know, I mean, Hogwarts is in danger, the whole world could be. It’s not just something you can do alone.” He explained, making her raise an eyebrow at him.

“And why not? Cause I’m a woman?” She teased, adjusting her stance angrily, making Sirius begin to sweat with nerves.

“Be careful son.” Sebastian whispered, earning a shove from Constance.

“No. Not at all. I have the right mind to know you could blast me into next week, but that doesn’t mean that you’re strong enough to contain that magic.��� He sighed, looking down at his hands before meeting her eyes. “I don’t think anyone could be alone at least.”

For the first time, maybe in his entirety at Hogwarts, Sirius looked into her eyes. He looked at her eyes, into her face, and he really dive into them to try and see what she was thinking. He felt his heart clench slightly, nit being used to looking at her that way. It was odd, yet nice, and he wished it had lasted longer than it did.

“Well, I don’t have a choice.” She hissed, quickly ignoring his longing stare before turning swiftly on her heel. She didn’t mind that she was leaving Sirius alone to his own devices in her Room, but she assumed he wouldn’t do anything stupid with Sebastian and Constance in there. And besides, she didn’t mind if it meant she could leave.

“So, how’d you stumble upon the Undercroft?” Sebastian asked, causing Sirius to turn to face the painting. He was watching Y/n leave, turning to the painting with a gloomy look on his face.

“Oh um, I just happened upon it.” He stuttered, making Sebastian scoff.

“You know you suck at lying.” He teased, making Sirius roll his eyes.

“I’m not lying.”

“I know you followed her.” Sebastian responded quickly, making Sirius open his mouth to speak, before closing it and huffing.

“How do you…”

“Paintings talk, Black.” Sebastian said with a smirk. “Speaking of, your great grandfather was a horrid school headmaster.”

“Oh I know. I don’t associate with my family much.” Sirius said, quickly looking down at the floor to avoid the topic of his family.

“Neither did my friend Ominis.”

“Ominis Gaunt?” Sirius asked, Sebastian’s eyes lighting up at the name.

“You know him?” He asked, which surprised him. Usually only the Slytherins knew about him. Ominis’s portrait was hung up by the fireplace in the common room, where he would convince the 1st years of the mermaids outside the window.

“No, but we’ve learned about his family in history of magic.” Sirius said, making Sebastian sigh.

“Yes well, I doubt they tell you everything. He like you, didn’t find his family well. You know what else he did? He helped us, with the repository, with containing the magic.” Sirius perked up, having wondered himself how one could even help with the repository. “It’s true, containing it alone is impossible. Y/n doesn’t see that, but she does need help.”

“Well, I mean I can’t help her. We’re rivals, we don’t get along.” Sebastian snorted.

“Again, the lying thing. You know you really gotta leave that to the Slytherinss…” he teased, earning a shove from his counterpart.

“Oh shush Sebastian. You know, Sirius. Just the fact that you followed her here means you’re already ready to help.” Constance explained. Sirius stuttered, shaking his head.

“But I, I can’t..” he mumbled, making Sebastian and Constance share a glance.

“Sleep on it, yeah? When you change your mind, come see me in the slytherin common room. I can guide you.” Sebastian explained, referring to his single portrait that hung up in the Slytherin common room.

“But I’m a Gryffindor, I’m not allowed in the Slytherin common room.”

“Then find a way.” Sebastian explained, making Sirius roll his eyes.

“That seems like a lot of work considering I don't want to help her.”

“Yes, well, when you change your mind you’ll find a way.”

Sirius scoffed, turning to stare at the door where y/n had left. He wasn’t gonna help her, he didn’t like her. He wasn’t, he couldn’t.

It took him two class periods before he clipped a strand of his brother's hair to make a poly juice potion.

[literaila]

magnetic attraction 

part one. 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: after a bad interaction with peter, your interaction with spider-man could not be any more chaotic. 

warnings: ha. angst/fluff. and then. so much banter. too much banter. 

a/n: to bob, who put on her spider-man mask and pretended to roleplay with me (also i don’t hate john green. the fault in our stars is good.)

*

"hey, what's the answer to number seven?" 

here's the thing. 

despite any and all efforts made to introduce peter into your life as an ex--because you broke up. that's a thing--he is anything but. 

simple solution, you know. 

avoid him. 

follow the rules of break-ups. write yourself a checklist and make sure that there aren't any empty boxes left at the end of the day. no spaces to fill, no void to think about. 

channel the resentment. fuel the anger, make yourself even madder, make him a bad guy so that maybe you won't miss him this much. block his number, forget any important thing that you know about him. 

simple. easy. breathing is hard in comparison. 

and still, you can't do any of it. 

because you don't hate him. you really, really can't. 

and the thing, you and peter have always been magnets. 

even before any of it, you were drawn to each other. 

when he pushed, you pulled. when you pushed--he grabbed on so tight you were worried about blood circulation. 

you met him in chemistry, and after that, you met him everywhere else. 

the grocery store and on campus and walking home from places that peter really shouldn't have been. 

you met him and that was that. 

you have always been lab partners. and you're not speaking to him enough--at all, because there are rules--to fix the issue. to ask to sit somewhere else. 

to break this foundation with a sledgehammer. 

and if there's a tiny part of you that just can't let go--erase a checkmark--then you ignore it. you don't want his warmth. you don't want to feel him laughing right next to you. you don't want to even know peter at all. 

you don't-- 

"what?" you don't look over at him. it's an unspoken rule. 

"number seven." 

"it's--" you breathe in, steal a look at his paper. completely blank. "can't you see it?" 

"what?" peter's voice is so soft, so quiet and unrelenting that you can barely hear it. 

it blares like a siren in your ear. 

"my paper. can't you see it? i can see yours." 

"why are you looking at my paper?" 

this might've been a joke, four weeks ago. 

"peter." 

he doesn't respond. pretends to write something down even though you both know that he was sleeping the whole class--until the teacher came over and asked him if he needed to see the nurse and peter responded with a polite smile which you definitely didn't stare at. 

it's too quiet. 

"here," you slide it over to him, just slightly, looking straight ahead at a poster of a skeleton. mandible, clavicle, sternum. 

you wait. 

"why didn't you just look over?" you ask him, maybe just because you have no sensibility left. 

"it's cheating if i steal it off of your sheet." 

"you're opposed to cheating now?" 

you can practically hear his teeth grinding together, as sure as a drill to a nail. 

you breathe in. fire moves down your stomach and back up. it doesn't take a genius to know that no matter how many deep breaths you take, the feeling isn't going to go away. 

radius, ulna. 

"nevermind," peter slides the paper back to you. he's got bruised knuckles. 

"you don't know how to do any of this," you say to him, pushing it back. 

he pushes, you pull. 

you look back up. sacrum, patella. 

"i got it." 

"peter." 

he is completely silent. 

there are only unspoken words between the two of you. 

"i got it, okay?" his voice is soft, but it's a snap. it's a rubber band, hitting back. 

you both know it. 

and so, your fingertips brush the edge of your paper, because if he doesn't want your help then you don't need to help him, and if he doesn't want to talk to you then it's even easier to cross 'silent treatment' off of the list. 

it only takes him a moment to stop you. "sorry," he whispers. 

and it's enough. because you're feeble. because you know him, even four weeks later. 

you scribble over the list. 

"will you help me with this one?" 

you know that he doesn't need help. you know that you probably do. 

still, you lean a little bit closer--making sure to keep a foot of distance at all times. "okay." 

peter looks at you, a small smile on his face, and you forget to look away. 

you forget all of the ground rules and fall off the edge of the earth. 

you trip and run directly into him. 

and you swallow, tasting the bile before you can push it down. you feel the fire, anger, like you've been trying to throw away. 

"what--" you swallow again, try to take a deep breath without it being too noticeable. "you've got another bruise." 

and a cut. and a yellowing face. and circles under his eyes that can almost compare with yours. 

immediately peter looks away. he hides again. 

you want to feel ashamed, you want to be guilty. but even still--fear isn't something that goes away with him. 

and love, no matter how much you beg it, won't burn itself to the ground. 

"doesn't matter," peter mutters, scribbling on his paper again. "do i need to divide or multiply--" 

"peter." 

he looks towards you, but he's staring at the wall. 

"what happened?" 

"i thought you didn't want any more excuses." 

"that doesn't mean that i don't care, peter," you whisper it, but the words come out of your mouth like an attack. 

peter's eyes meet yours, and you see a flash of something almost unrecognizable. 

"actually," he swallows. his frown sends sparks down your core, leaving burn marks in their wake. "i thought that you didn't want to talk to me at all." 

you struggle for words, you try to reach out and grab them but they're too far. 

this is much more than a worksheet. 

"that's what you said, right? that you didn't want to talk to me until i--" 

"this isn't--that's not--" you're too close to him. 

you're far too close. he's leaned in enough. 

you can feel him. 

and this, god, this is breaking every ground rule. this is unspoken and broken promises and your throat feels dry and your hands are clammy. 

you've never not known how to talk to him. 

peter scoffs, in the silence, into the expanse of the world and directly in your face. he throws back more than you could ever catch. 

and his eyes are completely serious when he says "just leave me alone, y/n."  

the bell rings, and peter gets up. 

he's better at this than you are. 

*

and later that night, you're still angry. 

you're still completely fed up with reality, with being alone, with having to sit there in class and just pretend that it's all fine. 

you accuse peter of lying, but between the two of you, the scales are only balanced. 

maybe that's why you're standing on the roof of your apartment building. 

a bad day, a couple of bad weeks. feelings that wrap themselves so tight around your throat that they keep you from breathing. 

peter, and his smiles, and his eyes--because you know his eyes. 

and you can pretend all you want that you've given him no room to be angry; that he has no right. 

but you'd just be lying. 

a particular brand of hypocrisy. 

so maybe it's self-pity that leads you up the stairs. maybe it's loneliness. 

regret, never. yearning, absolutely not. 

you lie to yourself again and again and imagine that it's all some joke. you'll laugh eventually. 

you don't want peter to come back. 

you don't want to be afraid to look in his eyes, at his face. you don't want to expect him to come home late at night and have blood dripping down his face. you don't want to presume that everything he says--all the stupid promises he makes you--are only lies. 

you don't want precedents. 

and you really don't want to be alone. 

so, the roof. the tiny little things to help you escape from the ever imminent reality. 

peter isn't coming back. you don't want him to. 

and still, talking to him earlier that day, being angry at him, getting him to snap at you. 

it felt like relief. 

it felt like a gasp of air, like drowning yourself for years and then finally deciding to swim up the surface. it felt like scrubbing the infection from your skin, finally, and finding a new layer of yourself underneath. 

it felt like peter. 

and you miss peter. you're not stupid enough to deny that. 

and the book you'd been reading--because the roof is a substitute room--is missing. 

you look under another box. push some spare trash around, hoping that maybe you'd just misplaced it. 

you're doing this when you hear a crash just a couple of feet behind you. 

a quick casual earthquake almost making you trip over the nearest box. 

and when you spin around, still trying to catch your balance, you realize that you aren't alone. 

maybe it's the man that crashed onto your roof--because it is yours--almost tackling you as he came down. he is two feet away from you.

just maybe.

you're frozen in shock for a moment, fingers reaching out to touch him--just to make sure that he's alive--but never getting quite close enough. 

luckily for you, spider-man jumps up before you feel around your pockets for some spare courage. 

"jesus," he says as if he didn't just almost kill you. he looks away, up at the sky, like he's expecting it to laugh back. 

and you stare at him. unsure what to say. 

what to be doing in a situation where a superhero has fallen onto your roof and ended the possibility of any quiet time. 

how to feel when the man turns to look at you, frozen. how to feel when, after a moment, he merely waves a hand at you like he's a celebrity. 

"what are you doing here?" the words fly out of your mouth, stupid and slightly scared. 

"i--" he shakes his head. tilts his head like he's trying to get water out of his ear. 

your brow furrows. your heart stutters off the edge of your ribs. "are you hurt?" 

"fit as a fiddle." 

you blink, trying to comprehend the words at the speed they come out. 

you stare at him, then look up, then back to him. he's whistling, completely casual. 

"you just fell onto my roof," you say, eyes wide. 

spider-man takes a step away from you, shakes out his foot. "was it that obvious?" 

"you..." you stare at him. he's taller than you are. long. breathing too hard. "you're spider-man." 

"pleasure," he pretends to tip a hat at you. you ignore that, for his own dignity. 

you feel your heart climb out from your body, telling you that it's going to take a break. 

"where did you come from?" you look around, expecting a camera and crew to jump out from behind a box. 

"a building," he says, so simply. "was trying something new." 

"it didn't work." 

spider-man looks at you again, head tilted. "ha." 

"aren't you, like--" you swallow. "supposed to be nice? and uh, good at what you do? isn't there a superhero code to... not scare unsuspecting strangers?" 

"i'm nice," he defends. "i'm spider-man," he reaches his hand out as if to introduce himself. 

you stare. blink. try to shove the shock away from your system. 

it doesn't work. 

"i already said that." 

"you can shake my hand anyway. tell your friends." 

you blink. "what?" 

"did i hit you?" he asks, very serious now. maybe concerned. he tries to take a step closer, maybe to look at you, but you move back. 

a bit perturbed by this man being an inch away from your face. 

"i'm okay." 

he tsks. "that's not an answer." 

"i'm pretty sure you didn't hit me," you revise, continuing to step back every time he gets any closer. 

but he is much faster than you. 

"pretty sure?" 

"positive." 

"really?" 

you nod your head, very seriously. you analyze every little twitch of his limbs. 

"because you don't seem okay," he says. he taps his temple. "you might've hit your head." 

"i didn't fall." 

he pauses, movement stopping. "maybe i hit my head." 

"that would explain a lot," you say, the words coming out before you can stop them. 

spider-man is still staring at you. you're pretty sure that you hear him laugh--but you're also certifiably insane, so who really knows?

he waits a moment, like he's searching for something, and then bends down. 

when he straightens, he's got something in his hands. "this yours?" 

you swallow. squint and try to see it clearly. "yeah," you say, "that's-that's my book." 

and in that brief moment, you begin to wonder if you're just imagining all of this. 

spider-man turns it around in his hands, looking at it very closely. "the fault in our stars?" 

you nod. 

"you're reading this?"

you nod again. 

"seriously?" his voice goes up with his words, a bit disbelieving. 

you furrow your brows, cross your arms. "what's wrong with that?" 

"it's just... oh, you know, the worst." 

"you've read it?" 

"no." 

you wait for him to elaborate. he does not. 

"then how would you know that it's bad?" you ask, not believing that you're actually having this conversation. 

that spider-man is judging your book choices. and that he fell onto your roof and still hasn't apologized for almost killing you. 

maybe you did die. 

"do you get out a lot?" spider-man asks you like you're a weird little hermit bothering him on his night out. like he hasn't just made you question every single concrete thing you thought you knew. 

"what does that have to do with anything?" minute by minute, your scowl gets harder. 

spider-man doesn't answer, merely nods his head as if your response gave him everything he needed to know. 

"what?" you demand, trying to grab the book from his hands. 

spider-man laughs. it's a small chuckle amidst the wind. he's got a deep voice. "i think it's a part of my civic duty to keep this away from you." 

"i've never heard about you being an asshole in the news," you mumble, trying again to grab the book from his hands. 

"what was that?" spider-man asks, leaning his ear towards you comically. 

you give up. stare at him for a moment. 

any emotions you feel in this exact moment have no name. 

"for a superhero," you tell him, face void of anything, "you're not very super." 

"what a nice thing to say," he brings his hand to his chest, mock-appreciative. 

you glare. "can i have my book back?" 

"for a civilian," he says, sing-songing just enough to make it noticeable, "you're not very civil." 

you almost, almost groan. you almost, almost laugh. "why are you here?" you demand, again, irritation climbing up your spine. 

why you're his designated target is unclear. 

"don't you have better things to be doing than annoying random girls on rooves?" 

he pretends to consider it. "not really, no." 

"there are no cats to save from trees?" 

and really, you don't mean to joke. you don't mean to let the smile slip. 

"you're funny," spider-man says, leaning back against the ledge of the roof. "why are you here?" 

"i live here." 

"pretty sure that door says 'do not enter.'" 

"you can't see that far," you tell him, trying to look back. you, of course, already know what it says. 

"i actually can." 

you cross your arms again. raise a brow. "how?" 

he taps his head like it's an answer. 

you stare. insist on being as stubborn and unwelcoming as possible. 

"you know, if you don't answer my question i might be forced to alert the authorities," spider-man pretends to look down at his nails--which, as far as you can see--are non-existent. 

"really?" you deadpan. "a masked vigilante, threatening to call the cops on me? for sitting on a roof?" 

spider-man waves a hand. his ankles are crossed. "please. they love me." 

"i can't see how." 

he raises his hands in defense. "wow. after all i've done for you..." 

"like almost murdering me?" 

"like saving you from a friday night alone." 

you frown. 

his words are a gentle reminder. a gentle push over the edge of this roof. 

"can i have my book back?" you ask, serious now. 

"are you going to answer the question?" 

you imagine that he's blinking at you. you imagine pushing him off of the building. 

"it was loud in my apartment. it's nice out here." 

"your family?" he inquires. 

you shake your head. "just... loud in my head, i guess. whatever. i needed a change of scenery." 

"and to read the fault in our stars." 

you glare at him. 

"i'm honestly saving you," he says. "you should be thanking me." 

you try to grab it from him again. "thank you for stealing my book?" 

at that point, he sits on it. your jaw drops but he ignores it. 

instead, he shrugs, so nonchalant. "just looking out for you." 

you sigh. drop your head in your hands and then look back up. "yeah. okay. can i have it now?" 

"how much did you spend on this?" 

"what?" 

spider-man tilts his head. it seems like he's teasing you but you honestly can't tell. 

"i didn't. we had it." 

spider-man clasps his hands together, a professional psychologist. "so you, before the concussion, just happened to spot this on a bookshelf and decided to read it?" 

"i don't have a concussion," you stare at him, squinting. "and yes." 

"are you an avid romance reader?" 

you blink. tilt your head. "i don't understand the question." 

he nods. "so, no. i mean, obviously. no person with any sort of knowledge, or sense would--" 

"hey!"

he shrugs again. "i'm just saying." 

"okay, then, spider-man," you cross your arms again. "what would you suggest?" 

"maybe finding a real boyfriend. or girlfriend." 

you scoff, a little bit shocked. 

somehow, you've relaxed. adrenaline has brought you here and dropped you off, kissing you goodbye. 

spider-man is an idiot. and a jerk. 

"what are you implying?" 

"that you don't have a significant other," he scratches his neck. "i thought that was obvious." 

you glare at him. "and you do?" 

he pauses. raises a finger in the air like he's got something to say. stutters. drops his hand. 

you smile, smugly. "exactly." 

"yeah, okay, but i get out," he copies your stance, staring. 

"when you're crashing into buildings, maybe." 

he rests his chin on his hand. "ever heard of a coffee shop?" he asks you. "great place to meet people. or the subway? an abandoned church? the park?" 

"nope. don't recall," you respond, dryly. 

"this is new york," he gestures around him like he's making a point. like he's got any point at all. "there are tons of people." 

"and yet, you're still alone." 

spider-man scoffs. "i have better things to do. responsibilities." 

"then how come you've been sitting on my roof for half an hour?" 

"i'm helping you, obviously." 

"how do you know that i don't have better things to do, too?" you shrug. "maybe i'm a superhero." 

"no superhero would read john green in their spare time. we have standards." 

"i find that hard to believe," you look him up and down, making note of spandex. 

he balks--or, at least, seems to. "you are not making me want to give it back." 

"please," you flutter your eyelashes, smiling. "i'll even cancel my subscription to the daily bugle." 

he scoffs again, beginning to say something when there's a crash from below the two of you. 

another earthquake. another superhero falling onto a roof. 

spider-man leans over the ledge, looking down at the city below. then back to you, posture changed. maybe a little bit tenser. 

"just for that comment, i'm leaving," he says, but his voice is easygoing, calm. 

you don't think you want to know what's going on under your feet. 

you reach out to grab the book from him--to forget about this entire night, especially the possibility that it might have improved your mood. minimally. 

but in the blink of an eye, he's gone. 

and there's no evidence that he was ever there. not even a book. 

you run towards the edge, worried that he fell, that he just stole your book, or that you really are going crazy. 

and you see him, swinging away with one hand. 

book in the other. 

you turn around, groaning. 

think about performing a citizen's arrest. 

*

when you climb into bed that night, you try to ignore it. 

realities. sitting on a roof in the cold of the night for no reason. feelings that have faded away, if only to leave a mark. 

you try and try to forget about the entire day. 

about peter and his resentment, his lies, his excuses, and how tired he looked. 

spider-man, who despite all else, made you laugh. at least once. 

that lingering feeling tucks you in. 

concern and worry and fear all morphed into something else. something like doubt. something like you can't feel your own heart. like you have no idea whose skin this is. 

a bug crawling on the ceiling, keeping you awake. 

when you fall asleep, it's to that feeling. 

*

part three.

my masterlist here. 

tags:  @moonlarking @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @random_writer1021

[groundzero-v]

Titles tag game

Thank you @roalinda for tagging me! 💕

List the titles of your top 5 priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers)

An upcoming scene, event or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which of the top 5 wips are they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

Titles

1. Revenge *is* the answer (worktitle, Prongsfoot)

Set in a version of the wizarding world where ghosts work a bit differently, Sirius and James team up to hunt Peter Petigreew down.

Or: James comes back (sort of), breaks Sirius out of Azkaban (finally) and decides whoever betrayed them both doesn't deserve to live on.

2. Marauder's Guide to Saving the Wizarding World (Prongsfoot)

I suppose everyone is tired of me talking about this one, but it's my only published wip 😄 James and Sirius compete as a team in the Triwizard Tournament which sets things that were never supposed to happen in their time in motion. Marauders fight Voldemort AU!

Includes lots of Marauder banter, feels, questionable humour, prongsfoot moments and brand new tasks in the tournament

3. No title yet. Star Wars AU + transmigration* (Prongsfoot)

The Proud Immortal Sith Way was a webnovel with an average rating of 2.5. It was, quite frankly, a piece of shit. The only thing that kept James reading, day after day, was the main character, the Jedi turned Sith, Sirius Black.

Sirius' whole life was filled with misfortune and pain. Upon entering the Order he received nothing but distain and distrust from everyone around him, even from his Master. It was no wonder he turned to the Dark side when everyone was just a useless NPC!

'How is it fair that Sirius had to spend the rest of his life in misery after suffering this whole time?!!’ James wrote at 1AM into the comment section of yet another chapter that had Sirius traveling the galaxy and adding another one-chapter, useless love interest to his harem.

The same night, James died. When he woke up, he was in the novel, the words 'Fine, do better,' apprearing in front of his eyes before they blipped out of existence.

*((A variation of SVSS for those aware, but should be totally alright to read without any knowledge of SW or SVSS^^))

4. Fantasy/Knights of the Round table AU (Prongsfoot)

Fantasy, Arthur & Knights of the Round table AU. James in the place of Arthur, future king, and Sirius as Lancelot, his most loyal knight. Features sword-magic, epic adventures and magical creatures. A very much just a concept for now

An upcoming scene, event or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing:

1. Prongsfoot just...being feral for each other, absolute devotion to the max. They have finally reunited again and there's nothing that can stop them. Also just them...trespassing everywhere 😄 Besides that, definitely the confrontation with Peter!!

2. I'm pretty excited about the Second Task of the Tournament (and a bit scared since I had to create it, hopefully it's interesting). But other than that, to be very vague haha, Prongsfoot meeting Voldemort for the first time!🙈 (There is a line that started this whole fic that I have been waiting to use and its coming closer with each day!!)

3. It's so different so I have to say there're so many things I'm really excited about. Figuring out who should be who in the SW universe is a lot of fun, but I think I'm mostly looking forward to James and Sirius being absolutely unstoppable with lightsabers and the Force. The aspect of the transmigration is also something I'm really really looking forward to

4. I love fantasy so puttting Prongsfoot in there is just a dream. A scene I'm most excited about is Sirius getting knighted by James and swearing his loaylty to him 🥹

Tagging (no pressure and sorry if you were already tagged!) @lovelymasks @jmagnabo92 @cassiaratheslytherpuff @gracelesslady23 @prongsfoot4life @solitaire-sol @mycupofrum @siriuslystarbucks @siriuslycomplex