#he came over to my side (i was slightly towards pete’s side of center) and waved at us i love him so much 😭😭😭

[andoutofharm]

other things i have no video evidence for but I Saw It Trust Me: joe throwing picks to the audience and then mouthing “I can’t throw this one, I need it to play my guitar” when he was down to the one in his hand

[hangovercurse]

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay  in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

[hankwritten]

Hofstadter’s Law

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for MinnesotaMedic821, Drunk

“You sure this best way in, Jane?” Demo muttered quietly as he gazed up at the looming concrete spires of BLU base.

“I am very sure!” Soldier said, not quietly at all. Practically yelling actually. Right in Demo’s ear too, what with his arm slung around the RED’s shoulders as the only thing keeping him upright.

“Shhh!” Demo hushed him. “You want me to go half-deaf as well as half-blind? ‘Sides, the last thing we need right now is the other BLUs hearing us.”

Soldier’s head, lolling like a pad of butter sliding around a hot pan, took a long and winding trip from one side to the other. “…Why?”

“…Because I’m a RED in the middle of a nest o’ BLU corn snakes?” Demo raised a brow. “Ach, you really did have a number done, didn’t you? Remind me not to let you near the Everclear again.”

“Okay! I will definitely remind you!”

Demo eyed him dubiously. “Remind me what, Jane?”

The grey shell of the helmet stared at him for several seconds. “…What?”

“Let’s just get you in, aye? We can do all sorts of filling in each other’s memories when your toesies are tucked safe under your covers.”

But in order get the Soldier safely in bed, they’d need to first traverse the minefield of potential termination that was the center of BLU operations. No problem at all really. It was late—even if some of the mercs had hit the town like Demo and Soldier had, they’d certainly be back by now, fast asleep, no chance at all of waking up and discovering a very difficult to explain situation in the form of an enemy merc carrying around their Soldier. As long as they were quiet, they’d be perfectly safe.

Demo guided Soldier towards the back doors, at which point they promptly ran into the enemy Demoman.

The BLU, spread out on a fabric lawn chair surrounded by dust, desert, and least a half-dozen bottles, blinked wide-eyed at the pair who’d just come around with the low-speed but high-inertia gait of a drunk couple. He shook his head slightly, as though to dispel the ‘ole three am fog and ascertain that yes, that truly was his teammate being helped along by the RED demolition’s man. Demo, for his part, froze like he’d been staked to the ground.

Soldier, as heavy things are want to do, kept going at his expected velocity. It nearly took them both over—Demo had to abandon the arm under his shoulders, lunging to haul Soldier up the waist and folding him in half like a Panini.

“Well,” the BLU in the lawn chair said, “you two look like you had fun.”

His face was a mish-mash of raised brow and, perplexingly enough, a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he bore witness to the two truants. Most shockingly of all, there wasn’t a trace of surprise on his face now, just those shades of smug amusement you put on when watching a particularly entertaining drunkard. The fact that Demo was used to having that expression leveled at him was neither here nor there.

“Er…” he said eloquently.

The flash of dread that’d shot through him when he’d caught sight of the BLU was the worse case scenario of course: reported on, fired, dead in a gravel pit somewhere, all rendered in gory detail by his mind’s eye. (His overactive imagination a bloody menace sometimes.) But as the BLU continued to sit there, not sounding the alarm, not even looking particularly worried, Demo’s fear for his own neck slowly morphed into confusion.

“I was just er-”

“Oh, hello Demoman!” Soldier chimed in. “We have been out. Drinking alcohol!”

“I’ve heard that’s a fun pastime,” his teammate commented mildly.

“Don’t tell him that,” Demo complained, hauling Soldier to an upright position. “Jesus, this er, isn’t what it looks like, honestly.”

“Sure it isn’t,” the BLU said, wearing what could now be identified unmistakably as a smirk. He gestured with his bottle. “Back entrance ‘s that-a-way.”

A little ball of defensiveness, not matter how unjustified, rolled around in Demo’s gut to the point he wanted to stop and give the other Demoman a piece of his mind. Which would probably involve lying. And then consequences to lying since Soldier had already given away this wasn’t a one time thing. He shut his gob and took the out.

Until the hum of the BLU’s resumed tune was far behind them, until the curving architecture of the base would keep them from being overheard, he didn’t dare start asking questions. Only when he was sure that the corner they’d rounded was at a significant distance away did he accusatorily hiss, “what was that about?”

“Hm?” Soldier asked pleasantly. He fixed a dopey smile on his friend, a second ago which had been the responsibility of a beetle crawling a tuft of bullheadidly tenacious grass.

“Your Demo, why’d you tell him where we were? And why didn’t he flip out?”

“You’re my Demo,” Soldier hummed unhelpfully.

“Ach,” Demo said, realizing he’d get nowhere with the security lights and a whole herd of horseflies bearing down on them. “Fine, lets get you inside first. But I’ve still got some bloody questions.”

They’d arrived at the unassuming little door cut into the base’s thick concrete, welded metal gushing haphazardly from its size as though its very addition had been an afterthought. Demo motioned at Soldier.

“Pass me your keycard, lad.”

“M’what?”

“Keycard.” Demo’s heart sank. “You keep it in your wallet or something, right?”

Soldier stared at the card reader. He stared at long and hard, so long and hard that Demo was starting to wonder if the question had made it through his ear canals at all when he concluded, “I forgot it.”

“You for- Oh for the love of Pete.” Demo took the hand that wasn’t supporting his mate and rubbed it long suffering across his face. “Well that’s great. Bloody great, risk my arse hauling a drunken fart back to his base cause he can’t hold his bloody liquor, and we can’t even get in to the fecking-”

The door hissed, layers of dust shaking loose like with a sci-fi swish as the vacuum seal was opened to the desert night. Demo gawked, watching it shake away grit like it was built into the surface of Mars instead of a dead-end town in the middle of New Mexico, and letting out a wash of air-conditioned oxygen.

When it was partially ajar, it unveiled the BLU Sniper, arms folded and leaning on the inner wall.

“How…what?” Demo asked. Soldier was too busy looking at the beetle again to be perplexed.

“Heard you guys arguing from the roof.” Sniper jerked his thumb upwards. “If you were sneaking ‘round, might want to think about keeping your voice down in the future. Probably could’ve heard you all the way at RED.”

“I wasn’t- We weren’t-”

Sniper waited. When no adequate explanation was forthcoming he said, “you comin’? Cold air’s getting out.”

Demo grimaced, and began the arduous processes of lugging the Soldier inside.

Chill ran up where his t-shirt had sweated to his neck, Soldier fairing no better since they’d spent the past half hour (every moment since Demo had realized Soldier would be going nowhere on his own) with their sides pressed together. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until the cold ai) brought the slightest suggestion of relief to his (admittedly also not terribly sober) body.

“If this is going to be a running thing for you two, maybe don’t get so munted next time, yeah?” Sniper offered. It was neither reprimanding nor conversational, like this was a totally normal exchange happening here with a RED in a BLU hallway.

“Who said anything about a ‘running thing’?” Demo demanded. “You didn’t overhear that!”

Sniper raised a brow. “Soldier said you were his new best mate. I assumed that meant you’d both be out and about more than once.”

Demo grit his teeth, the pieces clicking into place. “Did he now.” He leveled his best attempt at a glare from his blindspot at the disoriented Soldier who, unsurprisingly, was more interested in resting his head on Demo’s shoulder than being reprimanded. “Well that’s good to know. Any chance you can point me to his room?”

Sniper took one gloved hand and shoved a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Cheers.”

“Goodbye Sniper,” Soldier said belatedly, a good three minutes after he’d disappeared around a corner. “Oh hey! My room!”

“Jane, is there anyone you didn’t tell about us?” Demo demanded.

Soldier thought for a moment. “…I didn’t tell any REDs.”

“Jane,” Demo groaned. “This is supposed to be a secret. What if one of them tells the Administrator? You want that? Going to be hard ever meeting up again if we’re both six feet under.”

For the first time, a bit of shame managed to reach the Soldier through the woolen mesh of his inebriated state, and he looked at his shoes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just got really excited. Wanted everyone to know I was hanging out with you.”

Demo sighed heavily, not up bullying his friend when he was in such a pathetic sate already. “I know you were. Ach, it’s fine. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

Later being sometime after he’d managed to deposit Soldier onto a four-poster, though with the way the night was going it seemed like that moment would never arrive. His outlook wasn’t improved when he opened the door of Soldier’s room and found that not only was it Soldier’s room, but the occupancy of the entire Offense division.

“Whzzat?” Scout said, rolling to his elbow just in time to be bombarded by the hall light. “Ahg, dammit Sol. What the hell man?”

Demo didn’t bother freezing this time, successfully desensitized to literally every BLU on the planet stumbling across his ill-advised trip through the enemy base. Instead, he walked over, dropped Soldier on the bed, and began helping him unlace his boots.

“What the-?” Scout said when he finally lowered his arm. “Oh right. You. Jesus, how ‘bout a little consideration for the sleeping guy?”

“Mmrrhaunna,” came from the bundle in the corner.

“Yeah, what they said.”

“You don’t got the right to be begging consideration from anyone, jackrabbit,” Demo said hotly as he frees the military-grade combat boots from Soldier’s feet. He threw a blanket over the man’s form, who sighed appreciatively and said something about how this would earn Demo a medal. “‘Sides, don’t need to worry about me no more. I just came to drop of your sergeant and get out of here.”

To prove it, he backed out of the room with hands raised. Mission complete. Time to get out of here and bring this mortifying night to an end.

He might have gotten away with it too, if Pyro hadn’t shot straight up and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Mrrhaha! Hudda hah ha hoo.”

Demo reared back slightly from the Pyro who was still very much in their rubber suit, now with added nightcap. Whatever the hell they were saying, they were very impassioned about it. He looked to the Scout for help.

“They want you to tuck them in too,” he said, and the light flooding in from the single open door was good enough to see that he was smirking as he did so.

“Wha- I’m not bloody tucking anyone in,” Demo said hotly.

“Hudda ha. Mrra haa hur ha.”

“You tucked Soldier in,” Scout translated. “Only fair.”

“Gurrhaha.”

“…Otherwise they’ll tattle.”

“I cannae bloody believe this,” Demo groaned, rubbing his face.

Grudgingly, he made his way over the giggling pyrotechnician, absolutely giddy to have gotten their way. Thankfully boots weren’t part of the pajama equation, and Demo had only to tuck in the blanket’s edges ‘round a pair of socked feet and a squirming, suit-clad body. When he tried to leave it at that, a keening noise stopped him, and he was forced to repeat the process for Mayor Balloonicorn. All the while, he could feel the Scout staring smugly at the back of his head.

“D’awww, ain’t that adorable. Going to be hard to be scared of you now, though. Y’know, after you swung by to give us goodnight kisses and all that crap.”

“Just for that, I’m going to have a sticky trap with your name on it, boyo,” Demo pointed an accusing finger in Scout’s direction. He just shrugged.

“But uh,” Scout added, just as Demo was finally about to make his escape. “Glad you turned out to be cool though. He was really gung ho about tonight. Its nice he has good friends besides us.”

Demo cast his gaze to Soldier, who’d fallen fitfully in the short while it’d taken to get Pyro off his back.

“…That’s good. It was a fun time.”

“Oh yeah?” Scout wiggled his eyebrows. “How fun?”

Demo took one of the pillows he’d used to burry Pyro in and flung it at Scout’s face.

“Sticky trap. Your name.”

He could still hear Scout snickering all the way out into the hall.

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

My Everything

A/N: So my last fic did pretty good and now I’m writing another one because I was looking through prompts so Merry Christmas. This is quite possibly the longest fic I’ve ever written, which is kinda sad but not really. 

Summery: When what was supposed to be an easy mission goes horribly wrong

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word count: 2.6k+ 

Warnings: Violence, mentions of injury/blood, swearing, some angst but only a little

The mission wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was simple. Come in, take down the guards, download some information, and get out. It was so easy, in fact, that Tony let you and Peter go alone, and he wasn’t exactly a fan of letting his youngest Avengers go anywhere alone. 

You two were great partners but you were still teenagers. Even if you were 17, Spiderman was pretty famous and the great teen assassin Y/N was a well known name.

You remember the first time you went on a mission together. You had both been Avengers for a while but you hadn’t gone on a mission together. He tried to stick close to your side the entire time but you were not having it. 

“What the hell are you doing!?” you asked when he ran up to you in the crowd of people. “You can’t be seen with me! Do you have any idea how much of a target that’s going to paint on your head?!”

“I already have a target painted on my head, I’m Spiderman,” he replied with annoyance. “You honestly think you’re the only one that people want dead!? We have a better chance at doing this whilst we’re together and you know it.” 

“You’re only a target when you have the suit on, Peter. Either put it on or scram. I can’t risk you being in danger without the suit while we’re out here.” 

You were very protective over each other. It took a while for both parties to realize that maybe it was more than just being protective because you were friends. Maybe it was because you were in love. You were too scared of losing each other completely. It didn’t take too long after that for you to make a move on him, eventually leading to the beginning of your relationship. 

That was also part of the reason that Tony was reluctant to let you go on missions alone. You were good kids and he knew you were responsible enough to make sure you didn’t get distracted by each other in the wrong way, but there was always a chance of it jeopardizing the mission. If one got hurt, the other might be more concerned with the wellbeing of their partner than completing the mission. 

That told you how easy it had to be. There was no way someone could get that hurt. 

“Okay, I’m gonna swing in and start taking out everyone that comes at me. You run through, go into the main room, and get the stuff on the hard drive. I’ll stay in front of the door so no one can get in. Once you’re done, signal me and we’ll run back to the jet. Got it?” Peter said as you squatted on the roof of a building across from the information center. 

“Got it,” you replied. “Everyone good on the coms?” You got the confirmation and stood up. 

“We got this, babe,” Peter said as he stood up, kissing you on the cheek before pulling his mask on. He pulled you into his side and shot a web over to the other building, placing you lightly on the ground next to the door when you landed. You pulled out your gun as he tested the doorknob. The door opened slightly and you both frowned. That was unexpected. He held a hand up, signaling you to stay still while he scanned the room. 

“I’m not sensing anyone in there,” he said in a confused tone. “Let me make sure though.” He creeped inside and you stayed by the door. Nothing but complete silence. He signaled you to come in behind him and you held up your gun, ready to take on any attacker that came your way. 

You made it halfway across the room by the time people started pouring out of a door near the back of the room and attacking you. 

“Go!” Peter said as he punched a guy in the gut. “I can hold ‘em off.” 

You raced off without a second thought, managing to make it across the room without being attacked. Something felt off about the room the second you stepped in it but you ignored it, pushing it off as nerves. You quickly hacked into a computer, stuck the USB stick into it, and started downloading information. 

You were too busy fulfilling the task that you didn’t catch the man pointing a gun at the back of your head; the noise from outside masking any sound coming from the room you were in. It was so loud out there that you barely heard the gunshot before you felt the bullet in your back. You collapsed in pain, now noticing the man with the gun. 

You struggled to get up, trying to remember what Nat had told you before the mission. Something about having enough strength to fight ‘em off if you strike in the weak spots. 

You stumbled as you stood up, noticing how the man was struggling with his somehow jammed gun. You lunged forward and grabbed his arm, using all you had left in you to throw him to the side. He managed to unjam the gun and shot you again; this time in the side. 

“Almost done in there?” Peter asked though the com. You could hear the grunts of the men he was fighting off through it. He didn’t have time to deal with you. 

“Few more minutes,” you said through gritted teeth as you kicked your attacker in the stomach. You tried to grab the gun out of his hands as he flew back but missed. He swung at you, hitting you in the jaw and making you stumble back. You caught a glance at the computer. Two minutes left to download. 

You lunged forward again, grabbing a hold of the gun and kicking the guy again and again until he fell to the ground. You slammed his head to the ground and knocked him unconscious. 

“Y/N, these guys keep coming. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep them off.” 

“I need thirty seconds.” The file finally finished downloading and you pulled the USB out. “Let’s get out of here.” You sprinted towards the door as fast as you could, eyes widening when you saw how many guards there were. Peter caught sight of you and broke free of the guards, catching up to you. 

The shots were raining on you. Peter’s suit was bulletproof for long enough for the two of you to get out, but your jacket and padding beneath did little to stop the bullets from hitting you. You started to feel a little faint and slowed down, causing Peter to look over with worry. He picked you up without a word and carried you out the meeting spot. He had no idea what was wrong. 

“What’s going on with you?” he asked softly as he placed you on the ground and squatted next to you. “Did you get hurt?” The grimace on your face was enough to send him into protective overdrive. 

 “I got shot.” 

“Y/N, oh my gosh. Where? Why didn’t you tell me?” He unzipped your jacket and lifted your shirt to reveal the bloody mess of your upper body. 

“Holy shit, there is so much blood,” he breathed.

“Please, I sneezed on my period and there was more blood than this.” He could hear you fading. 

“Nat, how far away are you?” Peter asked into the com, feeling more anxious than ever before.  

“About ten minutes. Why? Is something wrong?” 

“Y/N got shot.”

“How bad?” 

“It’s really bad. We need help bad.” 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you guys still in danger?”

“No.” 

“Tell her to hold on. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Nat, seriously. I don’t know how long she can hold on.” 

“Do your best Pete. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

His concern was replaced with anger for a moment. Anger at Nat for not already having to jet there. Angry that you jeopardized your life for that stupid hard drive.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? Why would you hide an injury as bad as this!?” he seethed.

“It would have just slowed us down, I couldn’t risk your life like that!” You tried to sit up but Peter pushed you back down. 

“We could have found another way! You could’ve died. Hell, you could still die!” 

“There was no other way, Peter.”

“Are you kidding me, Y/N?” His demeanor softened again as he saw you fading. “Seriously, babe. I can’t deal with something happening to you.” He pulled your head into his lap, trying not to put you in more pain. He lifted a hand to brush your hair back and noticed the blood that came off onto his hand. So much blood. “You just gotta hold on.” 

“Pete, I don’t know how long I can.” Your eyes were fluttering and Peter could feel his heart rate rising by the second. 

“No, no, no. Karen, run a diagnostic.” 

“She’ll bleed out if you don’t stop it soon. Should I call an ambulance?” Karen said as the jet landed. 

“No, the jet’s here. Thank’s Karen.” Peter picked you up and started running towards the jet. Somewhere in that time, you passed out. 

“There is an incoming call from Mr. Stark. Do you want to answer it?” His suit asked as he stepped inside the jet. 

 “Sure.” He laid you down and let Bruce take over. “I thought it was just Nat.” 

“Thought I’d tag along,” Bruce muttered as he started running tests on you. “We need to get her back fast Nat. I don’t know how long we have.” 

Natasha just nodded as she got ready for take off. Peter sat down, head in his hands as he waited for the call to connect. He wanted to cry but he needed to be strong. 

“Hey, kiddo. Your heart rate’s up. You guys okay?” Tony asked.

“No,” was all Peter could choke out. 

“What happened?”

“We got the stuff but Y/N got shot and . . . and we don’t know if . . . if . . .” He couldn’t finish. The thought of losing you was unbearable. 

“Y/N’s going to be fine, okay? We’re not gonna lose her. Hang in there, Pete.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” The call ended and Peter threw his mask to the side. If he couldn’t protect you on a simple mission, how could he protect you when it got worse? 

The ride back to the compound felt like forever. He tried to block everything out but he couldn’t block out Bruce’s mumbled worries and your moans of pain when you woke up. He tried to go after you when they got to the compound but Nat held him back. 

“You need to get cleaned up. Give yourself some time away and think about something else. She’s going to be okay. Don’t dwell on it.” 

He tried. He tried so hard but he couldn’t think about anything else. He should’ve been able to feel that something was wrong when you got shot. He should’ve told you to get out. That your life was more important than that stupid information. He really could have lost you. 

He wallowed in his room for a while. People tried to come in to talk to him but he refused, ignoring their pleads to let them in. He even ignored the call from May. He didn’t respond to anyone until Bruce came to tell him that he could see you. 

“It was a close call,” Bruce said as they got close to your room. “I don’t know how long she’ll be out but it’ll be a while.” 

“Thanks.” Peter’s voice was soft as he opened the door. 

“Oh, and I think Tony wants to talk to you guys so he might be coming down here in a bit.” 

“Okay, thanks.” 

Bruce walked away and Peter entered the room. You were on your phone and he breathed a sigh of relief. You were actually okay. 

“Sup, bro?” You asked with a grin when you saw him. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like I could take down the entirety of Hydra by myself. How ‘bout you?” 

“Like I almost lost my girlfriend.” That comment wiped the stupid grin off your face. Humor was your way of coping with pain but seeing Peter like that made you realize that it might not be the best way to handle the situation.”You scared me so bad, Y/N.” 

“I’m sorry, Pete. I didn’t want to let Mr. Stark down and I figured I could fight through it. He’s always been apprehensive about sending us out together since we’re a thing. I wanted to prove that wrong. It was just two shots before we ran out. I’m fine now.” 

“I feel the same way but your life is so much more important than any mission. Please, promise me you’ll tell me the next time you get hurt. I can’t go through that again.” 

“I promise.”  

Peter took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it before scooting closer to your bed. 

“As stupid as you can be sometimes, I love you.” 

“Love you too, Spidey Boy.” 

Peter brushed a strand of hair that had fallen on your face and leaned down to kiss you. It was slow and passionate and everything you needed.  

You talked for a few more minutes before Tony came in. 

“Alright, you two. Tell me what happened.” 

So you explained the whole mission to him. Everything from the guy who shot you to all the guys Peter fought off. 

“It wasn’t your fault, but I’m going to work on making your gear more bulletproof for next time. One of those bullets got a little too close to your heart. You got lucky, Kid.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” 

“Alright, don’t do anything too crazy,” he said as he stood up. “I believe you’ve been put on bed rest for the next week at least.” Your huff of annoyance was not missed but it was ignored. “I’m giving you both a break for a bit. No more missions alone. At least, not for a while. We can’t afford to lose either of you.” With that, he left the room. 

“At least you don’t have to worry about training for the next week,” Peter commented. They had been pretty brutal lately. 

“It’s gonna be worse when I get back though.” 

“Yeah but you have a week to prepare yourself. Probably longer.” 

“If I pretend to be in pain long enough, they might give me more time.” You both laughed at that. 

~ 

It was two weeks before you got back to training. The second you were released from the medical wing, Peter was all over you. He constantly checked up on you and barely let you do anything yourself. He took every chance he got to cuddle you and tell you how much he loved you. Laying in bed together at night was his favorite time to talk with you. 

“I have the best and most badass girlfriend in the world,” he said, his arms wrapped around you, your head on his chest. 

“I am pretty badass,” you agreed. 

“You’re my everything.” 

You didn’t respond, almost asleep in the comfort of his arms. Peter couldn’t help but smile. He could admire your beauty for years and never get tired of it. 

“You will always be my everything.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let sleep take over him, knowing that you were safe in his arms. 

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

True Pleasure

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Mature (M)  Notes: I saw this post by @ironandspider and couldn’t help but take a whack at it. I was immediately inspired.  Summary: 

“Being vulnerable is the the only way to allow your heart true pleasure.” 

They’d been dating for a few weeks the first time Peter was startled awake by Tony’s thrashing next to him. His heart slammed against his chest for a moment, Peter willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him. It didn’t occur to him that Tony was having a nightmare until he started to make little whimpering noises. Sucking in a breath, Peter scotched a little closer and wrapped an arm tightly around Tony’s middle.

He used a little more of his strength than he usually allowed himself to ground Tony to the bed – his other hand ran along the top of Tony’s head, his fingers brushing the soft locks off of his forehead.. Keeping his voice level, he spoke up. “Tony – baby, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Peter repeated that same sentence a couple of times before Tony gasped awake, his eyes widening for a moment – the look in them wild. Recognition settled over him after a few dozen heartbeats, his rigid body relaxing a little bit.

“Pete?” Tony questioned, his voice small, the tone the slightest bit broken. Peter could feel the thump of his heart against the inside of his arm – it felt like a hummingbird trying desperately to get out of a cage. His hand was shaky when he reached up to place it on Peter’s cheek.

Leaning into the touch, wanting to do whatever he could to provide Tony with a little bit of comfort, Peter nodded, a soft smile sliding across his lips. “Yup, Peter Parker at your service. Neighborhood Spider-Man, boy genius, snuggle bug extraordinaire.” He wiggled his eyebrows while he spoke, his lame attempt to break the tension in the air exactly that – lame.

It seemed to work, though – Tony broke out in a laugh, the sound genuine and deep, the rumble familiar now that Peter took the time to pay attention. Nuzzling further into the hand on his cheek, Peter held Tony tightly, the older man slowly coming out of the hazy dream state. Fingers turning his face told him Tony was feeling a bit better, the lips on his a little on the desperate side. Peter sunk into the kisses and gave back as good as he got until Tony tired himself out. There was heat pooling in the center of his belly, but sleep called to him more.

He kept Tony in his arms, the man pressed tightly to his chest – Peter stayed awake and watched him until he fell asleep. His eyes were sleep heavy, but it felt important to make sure Tony didn’t fall back into that same dream before he let himself rest. Tony held all of his feelings in, it wasn’t all that surprising, the night finding them and bringing them to the forefront. The least Peter could do was be there and have warm arms to tumble into.

Before falling asleep, Peter pressed a soft kiss to the back of Tony’s neck, his nose burying itself in the downy hair there. He drifted off to the sweet smell of oranges and smoky goodness.

The next morning, Peter woke up to an empty bed. Frowning, he rolled over and got himself into a sitting position and off the warm mattress. He slipped on his boxer briefs from the night before and the black button down he took off of Tony, then slipped out of the room. Most mornings, they lounged in bed and mumbled to each other about the day, how they were going to spend it – when they’d see each other next. Peter figured Tony was still smarting from the night before, so he stumbled into the kitchen cautiously.

Tony was slumped at the small table by the window in his kitchen, a full cup of coffee still sitting in front of him. Checking the pot, Peter figured it had to be a couple hours old. He made quick work of getting rid of the cold stuff and putting a new pot on. The kitchen started to smell like fresh brew in the matter of minutes – his mouth watered at the thought of the stiff caffeinated beverage hitting the back of his throat. Leaving Tony’s black, Peter fixed his with a splash of milk and a sugar cube.

He replaced Tony’s mug without much fanfare, the older man relinquishing his grip without an ounce of fight or resistance. The mug went into the sink, then Peter took his first blissful sip of the elixir of the god’s, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Don’t you have class this morning?” Tony asked, his voice gruff from disuse and lack of sleep. He finally looked up from the place in the distance he’d been staring into. Their gazes locked – Tony’s normal happiness to see him clouded by whatever was occupying his mind. Peter tried not to take it personal, his brain more than aware of what it was like to wake up in a panic.

Shrugging his shoulders, Peter took another sip of his coffee – if he let himself formulate an answer, he might not sprout off and worsen the situation. “Yup – Biochem with Shrev.” Lifting up his coffee cup in salute, Peter walked out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom. He turned on the shower and drank the rest of his morning brew leaning against the counter, enjoying the way the hot water steamed up the bathroom.

By the time he climbed out of the shower, Tony was back in the bedroom. He felt the older man’s eyes roam over him as he walked into the room. Peter kept a hand on the knot of his towel as he rummaged through his backpack to pull out the spare clothes he kept there. Giving Tony a soft smile over his shoulder, Peter went back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. The guilty pleasure of using the man’s aftershave kept him from being bogged down by Tony’s edginess.

Peter shouldered his bag and took a look around the room to make sure he didn’t miss anything in his new morning routine around the Stark penthouse. Satisfied, Peter walked up to Tony, who’d been leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom since he came out and pulled him into a hug – strong arms wrapped around him, drawing him close. “I’ll see you in the lab later.” With a chaste kiss to the older man’s forehead, Peter turned and walked out.

It felt weird, leaving with things hanging in the air like that – but Peter refused to let Tony’s bad dream the night before be something that came between them. He understood not liking to be vulnerable – his nights were frequently haunted by dreams that chased him and didn’t relent. It was one-part embarrassing and one-part frightening – being so bogged down in something that only waking up could cure. So, he endured it, the way he felt for Tony trumped all of the weirdness that coursed over him throughout the rest of the day.

Walking into the lab later, Peter was enveloped in a tight hug – Tony obviously not giving a damn about the other people idling around. Tony tucked his face into Peter’s neck and sighed, his breath warm against his sensitive skin. “Missed you,” he mumbled, the tone of his voice soft, the words as much of an apology as the current situation called for.

“Me too, Tones,” Peter replied, his arms wrapping around Tony’s hips. They shared a quick kiss, then separated. The rest of the day was spent sharing shy smiles across the table and brushing hands while passing each other things just because they could. It cemented what he thought earlier that day – this, his thing with Tony, it meant more – the world, maybe.

----

A couple months later, Peter jumped awake to the sound of Tony’s shout. It must have been enough to wake the older man up, too. His “shit” harsh, forced out of his chest like it was punched right out of his gut. Turning over, Peter was surprised to see Tony looking right at him. “Oh, Pete. Thank fuck,” Tony gasped out, his sweat soaked hands reaching out, the few inches between them obviously feeling like billions of miles away.

Peter went willingly, his sleep clogged mind more than willing to cling to the warmth of Tony’s body. “It’s okay, Tones. I’m right here,” Peter mumbled, his voice scratchy – the entirety of him trying its best to cling to sleep. He laid flat against the mattress and pulled Tony toward him, his arm pulling him into his side so there was no space left between them. Tony placed his head on Peter’s chest, the hairs of his goatee making the skin tickle slightly.

Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s pec, his lips trembling slightly. “Don’t let go for a while, okay?” Tony whispered, his head tilting up to look at Peter.

Their eyes caught and even through the fog of sleep, Peter understood what was happening. Tony was putting a foot on the throat of his vulnerability – he was opening the door for Peter to take him from the darkness and hold him close until they were out of it. Beaming, Peter leaned down to press a kiss to Tony’s sleep mused hair. “You’re safe with me, baby.” Peter tightened his arms – he needed the closeness in that moment, too.

Fingers skimming over Tony’s skin lightly, Peter started to talk, his voice low – the intention to be soothing. “Do you remember that afternoon a couple of months ago that I was running late, so you came and picked me up from campus? I can still remember walking out to see you leaning on the Audi like you owned the place. When I close my eyes, the way you looked in that moment is something that pops into my head first thing. You looked like you were at peace.”

Somewhere in the space of his little soliloquy, Tony drifted off – his breath evening out against Peter’s chest. Smiling, he pressed another kiss into Tony’s hair and relaxed into the pillow beneath him. He kept his grip tight, the thought of space between them too much, even in his exhausted state. Tony trusted him – it was important for him to continue to prove he deserved it.

Waking up with the steady weight of Tony against his chest made him grin – now this was the way he wanted to wake up for all the days to come. He luxuriated in the feeling of having Tony pressed against him this way for a while – his brain steadily coming into a more wakeful state as the minutes passed. Tony started to stir right around the time Peter finally felt like he could keep his eyes open and attempt to be a functioning person for the rest of the day.

The feeling of Tony rolling on top of him made him gasp, the shift of the older man’s weight from his side to his center making him press up a little. “Morning,” Tony said with clarity, his eyes not nearly as hollow as they usually were after a night where the dreams wouldn’t let him go. Gripping Tony’s hips, Peter let his fingertips stray over the naked skin there.

“Morning, Tones,” Peter replied, his lips quirked in a sleepy grin. They were quickly occupied a moment later – Tony kissed him with determination, the energy in the press of his lips a lot for so shortly after waking up, but beautiful, nonetheless. Peter leaned into it easily – he was just happy that Tony wasn’t bogged down by the things in his head that he couldn’t escape.

A while later, Peter got out of the shower to find a coffee cup on the counter, the smell of it making his mouth water. His cheeks were a little sore from all the smiling he’d been doing throughout the morning and he’d only been awake for 45 minutes or so. He ran a towel through his wet hair while sucking down some of the coffee in his mug, the caffeine doing wonders for his sleepiness.

Tony was in the kitchen when he walked out with his backpack – the older man flashing him a soft smile over his shoulder. “Do you have time for breakfast?” Tony asked, his eyebrows quirked in typical Tony Stark fashion.

Flashing a glance over at the clock on the fancy stove, Peter shook his head – “I have to get to class. Want to meet for lunch instead?” He placed his backpack on the island, Peter wanting his hands to be free to pull Tony to him. The older man came willingly, his arms settling around Peter’s neck without a second thought.

“Sounds good – I’ll order Thai, or something.” Tony leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together, his breath ghosting Peter’s lips. “I love you,” he whispered after a while, his nose brushing against Peter’s. “I love you.”

Peter let the word wash over him, hearing them for the first time made him want to melt into a puddle of goo. Beaming, he pulled back a little, both hands cupping Tony’s cheeks. “I love you too. So much.” There wasn’t any hesitation, both men leaned in until their lips were connected – the touch like a current, electricity and energy flowing so easily between them.

It would have been so easy to get caught up in the dizzying tension in the room, but Peter knew they both had shit to do, so he stepped away with a final brush of their lips. “I’ll see you in a little while.” Grabbing his bag, he kept his body turned towards Tony as he walked out, eyes desperate to be on him until he wasn’t in sight any longer.

Luckily, Peter was nearing the end of his semester, so both classes standing in the way of lunch with Tony were jam packed full of things he needed to pay attention to. The time flew by – before he knew it, he was walking into the penthouse to the sight of Tony in one of his three-piece suits, the vest unbuttoned, and the tie loosened. That look never ceased to drive Peter crazy – the older man well aware of that fact.

Hearing him, Tony turned around, his face breaking into a smile. “Pete – just in time. Food is on the coffee table in the living room.” Tony narrowed the space between them and gripped Peter’s hand, their fingers tangling easily. “I got a couple extra orders of that shrimp you like.”

Peter ate his weight in Thai food and found himself slumped against the back of the couch. Tony was leaning heavily into him, his neck rolling from side to side. “Here,” Peter said, turning a little bit on the couch until Tony was sitting between his legs. “Lean back a little, I’ll get that knot in your shoulder.” Peter recognized the gesture – Tony got bunched up when he was stressed. The last time it happened, his neck and upper back were useless for a handful of days.

Instead of waiting for it to get worse, Peter dug into the group of muscles spanning across his upper back and shoulders. Tony undid his tie and the first button on his shirt, the man tilting his head a little further towards his right shoulder, exposing more skin as he did. “Your hands feel amazing,” he mumbled after a few minutes of Peter kneading muscle and skin. “So good, Pete.”

Preening at the compliment, Peter doubled down, his hands now eager to make Tony feel good, not just better. By the time he felt Tony’s shoulder slump with the release of the knot holding his muscle bellies captive, Tony was letting out little sounds of contentment, his eyes closed and head lolling loosely against Peter’s shoulder. He let his lips trail up Tony’s trap and across the side of his neck – his skin warm from the way Peter’s hands worked him over. “Okay?” he asked when he got to Tony’s ear, his words spoken right against the shell of it.

Tony didn’t answer verbally, he simply nodded his head, his hands reaching back to grab at Peter’s. He ended up holding Tony between his legs for a while, the older man content to simply lean back and soak up the heat from Peter’s increased body temperature.

Later that night, Tony led Peter to bed by the hand, their bellies full of the simple pasta dish they made in the kitchen together. Tony wasn’t the greatest sous chef, but he looked cute in an apron and genuinely wanted to be a distracting help. They sipped on wine and talked about Peter’s lab final at the table after the food was long gone. Tony’s eyes were warm when they took him in, the man’s posture relaxed and carefree – truly open, probably for the first time ever.

Eager fingers undressed him; the trail of Tony’s lips followed by the tantalizing scratch of his well-manicured goatee. Peter let his eyes fall closed, his jaw falling open from the greatness of it. He got carried away by the reverently passionate touches, Tony obviously on a mission to take him to pieces. The symphony of their moans made it hard to figure out where one started and the other began.

When Tony handed him the lube and laid himself out on the sheets, Peter let out a noise of surprise. Their sex life was amazing – Tony knew so many things about sins of the flesh. There wasn’t a single thing they did together that Peter didn’t love. Yet, they never tread into this territory before. Gripping it tightly, Peter stared into Tony’s eyes. The swift knock to the gut the look on Tony’s face hit him with almost made him double over. The purest of trust was reflected in whiskey colored eyes, Tony’s head nodding to the unspoken question Peter posed.

Sliding in for the first time, Peter let out a breathless shout, his body falling against Tony’s. Strong arms wrapped around his middle to keep them flush together. Peter let his head dangle between his shoulders, his forehead resting against a stubbly cheek.

“Please,” Tony moaned, his hands pulling Peter even tighter against him.

Turning his head, Peter pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips, his hips shifting.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

[prettyboyreid]

the story (iii)

me and my friend

(a girl and a boy) (a boy and a boy) (the way the world works)

OC!Potter x Marauders, OC!Potter x Nephew!Harry

As Harry Potter gets older, his aunt makes sure he never forgets about his parents or his uncles.

Based on the song The Story by Conan Gray

Warnings: Mentions of parental abuse and neglect

Word Count: 6,391

After the visit to Remus’ house, the bedtime stories seemed to die down.  Not on purpose, of course; Harry was getting older and more independent, and it took a lot more than just a story to wind him down for bed.  As for Lucy, she found herself having told most of the stories that stood out to her.  She still talked about James and Lily, and of course brought up Remus every now and then, but by the time Harry was nine, the bedtime stories had become very few and far between.  

It wasn’t until Lucy was trying to put something together for Harry’s tenth birthday that she found herself thinking of two stories, both of which seemed to center around her second brother and one of her closest friends.  

A week before July 31st of 1990, Lucy was sat down in the living room while Harry was in his own bedroom, probably playing with building blocks or his very worn down stuffed hippogriff that he refused to let go of.  She had all of their family photo albums sprawled out across the floor in front of her, wanting to piece together a little book specifically for Harry that he would be able to take to Hogwarts the following year.  Most of the photographs she had picked out were of his parents, but of course she had picked out a few group pictures of the Marauders and a picture of Remus and her together.  She did her best to leave out two of the Marauders, only because she found that she hadn’t told Harry many stories of the two on their own.  

Lucy jumped a little bit as she heard small feet pattering down the stairs, shoving her present-in-progress underneath the couch before looking up at Harry with a small smile.  “Whatchya doing, bug?” she asked, gathering up a few pictures and tucking them away so she wouldn’t ruin his surprise.  

Harry gave her a tired shrug, rubbing at his eyes with his small fists as he made his way over to his aunt.  “Witherwings got tired and made me put him to bed; now I’m bored,” he informed his aunt, moving over to her and plopping himself into her lap.  Lucy chuckled softly, kissing the top of his head and combing his fingers through her hair.  

“Well, I was just looking at some old pictures of your mom and dad,” she told him, and he immediately reached for the first large book in front of him.  He grinned a bit at the picture on the front of his parents dancing around a fountain, and Lucy made a mental note to add that into the book she was compiling for him. 

Harry began to flip through the thick pages haphazardly, his aunt carefully straightening them out so they didn’t get wrinkled.  Harry slowly made his way through the pictures, until he tilted his head to the side when he came to a large group picture.  He stayed on it for a moment, long enough for Lucy to become curious as to what he was thinking. 

“What’re you thinking?” she asked him quietly, pushing up his round glasses that were slipping down his small nose.  He was at a section of a few wedding pictures, some of which were missing since Lucy had already picked them out.

Harry pressed his fingers to the photograph, focusing on two men in tuxedos who were laughing; one had longer, jet black hair with his arm wrapped around James, and the other was a slightly chubbier man who stood beside Remus, who was ruffling up his sandy blond hair.  “I don’t know them,” he stated, glancing back up to his aunt. 

Lucy nodded gently, giving him a slightly weak smile.  “Well, that man is Uncle Peter, or Uncle Wormtail.  This one is Uncle Sirius, or Uncle Padfoot,” she informed him, swallowing thickly at the thought of having to explain where they were to him right now. 

“Oh! Uncle Padfoot turns into a dog!” he exclaimed, nodding gently as he finally understood who he was.  Lucy smiled and nodded again, flipping the page to reveal a picture of Sirius and James together on what looked to be their last day at Hogwarts.  

“Is that him again?” Harry asked, turning most of his body around to look up to his aunt.  All she did was nod, looking down at the photo with a small smile.  “Yeah, it is,” she told him, chewing on the inside of her cheek.  

“Why don’t you ever tell me stories about Uncle Padfoot?”  he asked his aunt curiously, still looking up at her as he held firmly onto the scrapbook. 

Lucy was silent for a moment, thinking of a proper response before she shrugged softly.  “I guess I just don’t have as many stories about him as I do about your mom and dad,” she told him, her stomach jerking as she knew she was lying. 

One might argue that she was closer to Sirius than James was at some points; she was there for him after the prank and helped him patch it up, and she was the one person Sirius felt that he could always talk to about anything (James, after all, wasn’t exactly known for always taking things seriously). 

“Can you tell me a story about Uncle Padfoot tonight?” he asked, giving her a pleading, wide eyed look that his round glasses only magnified.  Sometimes, he reminded Lucy so much of her brother it made her queasy.  However, she nodded and gave the boy another weak smile, taking the scrapbook from him and setting it off to the side.  

“Alright, bug.  Whatever you want,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as he giggled loudly at the sign of affection.  She inhaled deeply as she thought, and decided on the first story that came to mind.

“Let me tell you a story… about me and my friend,” she started, but, as usual, was quickly interrupted by her nephew. 

“My friend and I,” he corrected her, giving her a proud grin as he was catching onto her slight grammar lessons she would throw at him occasionally.  

Lucy laughed gently, but nodded nonetheless.  “You’re right, I’m sorry,” she said, clearing her throat dramatically before continuing with her story.  “About my friend and I,” she corrected, smiling down at her beaming nephew, leaning back against the front of the couch.  “His parents were evil, so we made a bet,” she started, pushing some hair out of her face. 

“The first part of the story takes place in our second year at Hogwarts…” 

-x-x-x-

“Hey, Potters!  Where are you sitting on the train?”  Lucy heard Remus yell to her and James, turning around with her brother to look at the tall, skinny boy as he jogged up to them.  

James, being the more vocal and outgoing one at the time, gave him a shrug.  “Wherever you wanna sit, Rem.  I’m sure Luce will follow,” he teased his sister, nudging her playfully before she shoved him away. 

Peter scurried up behind them, carrying all of his books in his hands as if he didn’t have any room left in his trunk for them.  “I heard we’re gonna have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year!” he exclaimed to his friends, almost jogging to keep up with them since his legs were much shorter than theirs. 

“Who’d you hear that from, Pete? All of the other trustworthy Slytherins who told you that there was a snake running around the castle last year?”  Lucy asked him, glancing back at the smaller boy before he noticed Sirius standing over towards the entrance, with a boy who looked exactly like him only shorter and paler, and two adults who were clearly the smaller boys parents.  The two adults were saying goodbye to the smaller boy, and Sirius was looking down at his feet, like that was the last place he wanted to be. 

“I think it’s true this time, though!  They said they’ve never had the same Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher two years in a row!” Peter defended his answer, the three Gryffindors and the Slytherin all piling into the middle train car as they began their hunt for a compartment for them to share for the next few hours.  Luckily, or maybe more coincidentally, the compartment they had the year before where they all met was empty.  The boys looked at each other before they shoved past each other to get inside.  Lucy followed behind once the three of them were in, glancing out the window for a brief moment and sighing silently as she saw Sirius walking up towards the train.  

It didn’t take long for the dark-haired Gryffindor to join the rest of them, completing their little group in their compartment.  He looked much happier than he did a few moments ago, his mouth stretched into a wide smile as he tossed his satchel into the overhead box.  The rest of the boys greeted him loudly and happily, James and Remus shoving him back and forth playfully before he sat down between the two of them, facing Lucy and Peter on the opposite set of seats. 

“Sorry I was late, I had to show my brother where to sit,” he excused himself, leaning back into the cushioned seat with a bit of a sigh.

“Your brother?  Why didn’t you invite him to sit with us?” Peter asked, and Lucy caught Remus shaking his head quickly but softly, hoping Peter would get the silent hint.

Peter didn’t get the hint. 

“Oh, Reggie would much rather sit with the Slytherins and our cousin Narcissa.  He’s hell-bent on getting into Slytherin like the rest of our family, so he wanted to make friends early,” Sirius explained rather quickly, like he just made up and excuse to not talk about his brother at the moment  Peter nodded and sunk back into his seat, suddenly feeling bad for having brought it up.  

After that, the train ride felt a bit awkward.  The rest of the boys talked and joked around, while Sirius sat back in his seat and just watched.  James and Remus had noticed not too long in, and gave each other a knowing, odd glance that Lucy hadn’t seen from her brother before.  

James stood up about two hours into the train ride, clapping his hands together and giving a dramatic sigh.  “I could go for a chocolate frog or two, how about you, Rem?  Pete?”  he asked, looking between the two boys. 

“I could go for some Fizzing Whizbees,” Remus piped up, standing up before nodding towards Peter, who seemed off in his own world, swinging his short legs off the seat.  Lucy nudged his arm before he finally looked up, nodding quickly before he stood with the other two boys. 

“Yeah!  Yeah, I want some Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans for when we get to the dorm, anyway,” he said.  The three boys quickly scurried out of the train car and off to find the trolley full of sweets, leaving it to just be Sirius and Lucy.  

Lucy stayed quiet for a few moments, glancing up to Sirius every now and then.  Each time, though, he was just staring blankly down at the floor.  She chewed on the inside of her cheek before she stood up and made her way to the other set of seats, sitting down next to him where her brother had sat before.  “Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked him in a quiet voice, looking forward as well, almost as if she was too afraid to look at him.

Sirius just sat still, like he didn’t hear her, his gaze fixated on his brand new shoes his parents forced onto him whenever they made their yearly school shopping trip to Diagon Alley.  But then, all of a sudden, Lucy felt a sudden weight on her shoulder. She glanced down slightly out of the corner of her eye, and saw a mop of black, messy hair resting on her shoulder.  She patted his shoulder gently, hoping it would bring him some sort of comfort.  That’s what her mother did to comfort her, at least. 

“I just hate spending the summer at home,” he told her quietly, his gaze moving between the thinly carpeted train floor and the glass door, hoping none of his friends would come in while he felt so vulnerable.  

Lucy just nodded gently, glancing down at him a bit as he spoke.  “I saw you with your parents and brother earlier, back at the platform,”  she told him, which only evoked a sigh out of him. 

“Reg has always been the favorite.  I’ve just been… different, obviously,” he said with a weak laugh, flipping his tie up a bit.  “He always followed everything my parents said blindly, I questioned every other thing they did.  It’s practically unheard of in our family,” he explained to her, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“I mean, I’m pretty different from James, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Yeah, but you’re a good kind of different, and your parents still love you,” he mumbled, which shut Lucy up almost immediately.  “They practically hate me.  Mum finds a new reason to yell at me or ground me every other day.  On her off days, my dad finds a reason to yell at me or ground me.  All because I don’t think I was supposed to be in Slytherin and that I shouldn’t just… hate half of the witches and wizards because they don’t have the same blood I do,” he sighed, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. 

Lucy frowned a bit, resting her hand on his shoulder still as he gave him a sympathetic smile.  “You know you’ll always be welcome at our home,” she told him, to which he only scoffed at. 

“Mum says no one would want to take me in, she’d throw me to the streets if she could,” he said with a bitter chuckle, before swallowing thickly and looking back down at his feet.  

Lucy sat silently for a moment, looking down at her lap as she mulled all of that over.  She eventually sat up straight and turned to him, taking her hand off his shoulder so she could hold her pinky out to him.  Sirius furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he looked at her, shifting in his seat to face her as well.  “What are you-”

“I want you to promise me something, Sirius,” the twelve-year-old said firmly, shutting up the boy quickly.  “If it ever gets too bad at home, and if you need somewhere to go, I want you to promise me you’ll run to me and James.  You know mom and dad would love to have you, and you’d have a better life,” she said, practically pleading with him. 

Sirius chewed on the inside of his cheek, sighing before he wrapped his pinky around hers, giving her a weak smile.  “Alright, Potter.  Only since I’m scared you’d drag me over to your house anyway,” he teased, to which she just nudged him playfully.  

“And I will if I have to, I swear on Merlin’s grave,” she said, her voice joking despite how much she genuinely meant it in her heart, holding her right hand up as if she were swearing to it.

Sirius just laughed softly, leaning back in his seat a bit as the three other boys finally filed back into the compartment, Remus taking his old seat as James sat down next to Peter across from the rest of them. 

“Hope we didn’t miss all the fun,” James said, carefully opening his chocolate frog before grinning when he caught sight of the card inside.  “Finally!  I got Gryffindor!” he exclaimed happily. 

“Don’t worry, you still have a few hours left to catch up to us,” Sirius said, taking the box of Fizzing Whizbees that Remus had grabbed for him, giving him a small smile as a thank you, dumping some of them out into his hand and quickly shoving them into his mouth.

-x-x-x-

Harry looked up at his aunt curiously as she finished the first portion of her story, causing her to chuckle softly.  “What?  Is it a bad story?” she asked, pushing some of his hair out of his face, which was starting to curl at the ends, reminding her so much of the young boy’s father. 

“I don’t get it,” he told her firmly, leaning against her shoulder slightly as he spoke.  “Why do his parents not like him?”

Lucy gave him a sad smile, adjusting the way her nephew sat on her lap so he could look at her.  “Uncle Padfoot didn’t like what his parents taught him, so he acted out because of it, trying to be different from his family.  His mom and dad didn’t like that too much,” she explained to him.  “But, if he wasn’t so different from his family, he wouldn’t have been such good friends with me or any of our other friends,” she added. 

Harry nodded, still looking vaguely confused.  “His parents don’t seem very nice.”

“They weren’t,” Lucy confirmed, kissing the top of his head gently.  “That’s where the rest of the story happens,” she told him, leaning back slightly against the front of their older, weathering couch.  “This happened in the summer between our sixth and seventh year…”

-x-x-x-

It was a warm July night in 1977.  Euphemia and Fleamont had gone to bed early, leaving James and Lucy alone in the living room, playing a card game Remus had taught them at some point during their free time for hours and hours, almost until the night had become the early, early morning.  

“Merlin, James, you’re supposed to slap the Jack, not the King,” Lucy groaned, shaking her head a bit at her brother.  He frowned a bit at his sister’s comment, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back slightly.  

“It’s confusing!  You can’t blame me for it,” he huffed out, gathering up all of the cards and beginning to shuffle them again, doing it as carefully as possible to copy the way Remus showed him back in their dorm.

“I most certainly can when it’s in the bloody name!” she argued, shaking her head a bit before glancing up at the grandfather clock pushed against the wall.  “I might let it slide if you go and get me some butterbeer,” she said with a grin, tilting her head to the side to feign some sort of innocence to her twin. 

James frowned a bit and sat for a moment, obviously thinking it over before he groaned, setting the deck of cards down on the coffee table.  “You’re lucky I’m thirsty, too,” he said, pushing himself up before heading off to the kitchen through their dining room.

“Whatever you say!” she called after him as quietly as she could while he could still hear her, shaking her head a bit as she began to shuffle the cards a bit. 

The cards didn’t stay in her hands long, however, as she heard a large whoosh noise and a flash of light coming from the fireplace.  Lucy scrambled for her wand and stood up a bit, her hand slightly shaking until the smoke cleared and she saw a boy, looking cold and terrified, slowly making his way into the living room.  

“Sirius, what in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” she asked, tossing her wand onto the couch before making her way over to him.

“Luce!  Everything alright in there?” she heard James call from the kitchen.  She quickly looked from Sirius to the general direction of the kitchen, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“I’m good!  I just… tripped, that’s all!” she said.  She stayed silent for a moment to listen for her brother, but given that there was no response, she assumed he took her excuse, and she turned back to Sirius.

“I, uh… I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Sirius explained to Lucy quietly, running his hands back through his dirty-looking hair as he kept his gaze fixated on the ground in front of him.  

Lucy just nodded, gently guiding him over towards the couch and sitting him down.  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him quietly, continually looking over her shoulder to make sure her brother didn’t walk in on the two of them talking; she knew all too well Sirius hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of James.  He wanted to keep up his tough guy act, even if that meant he had to keep a few things from James now and then.  

“She just… she was too much,” he said silently to her, slumping back into the couch cushions.  “I didn’t know what to do, so I just… I used the fire place when they all went to sleep and used the floo network to get here,” he explained to her quickly, his gaze flicking over to the fire he had just stepped out of, worried his mother or father would come bursting through the flames any second. 

Lucy just nodded, wrapping her arm around him so his head rested tiredly against her shoulder.  “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.  Do you need anything?” she asked him quietly, looking down at him carefully as she spoke.

He shook his head quickly, already looking nervous from his intrusion.  “No, no, I just… I think I need a minute,” he told her softly, letting out a heavy sigh.  

So, she gave him the minute he needed, and many more after that.  It almost felt like an eternity before he heard a voice from behind them, her head picking up and turning quickly only to face her twin brother, whose focus was stuck on his best friend. 

“Pads!  What’re you doing here?  I thought you couldn’t visit for another week,” he asked in a rushed voice, moving around the couch and setting down the little bottles of butterbeer on the coffee table before glancing at his sister.  “I had to run down and get some from the cellar; mom must’ve forgotten to restock the fridge after last weekend,” he explained quickly, before sitting on the other side of his best friend. 

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just… I needed to come a little earlier.  I’m sorry to just burst in like this but…” his voice cracked and trailed off, his attention turning down to his lap, his expression rivaling that of a kicked puppy.  It was only now that Lucy noticed his puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, which he had been trying to hide from the two of them. 

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” James told him quietly, having realized he hadn’t just snuck away for a sleepover like he usually had done in the past summers.  It was something much different than before.

Sirius shook his head quickly, sniffling a bit before letting out a sigh.  “No, I just… I didn’t think I’d ever need to do this.  I should’ve called ahead, I’m really so-”

“Don’t apologize, Sirius.  Please.  We’ll work it all out, you don’t need to apologize for something like this,” Lucy insisted, giving him a warm smile that the boy hadn’t seen the likes of since he got off the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 ¾ at the end of June. 

Sirius just nodded gently, looking down at his hand and twisted a silver ring around his finger.  “Mum got really mad at me tonight, and she just… she got out of hand…” Sirius started, focusing on his hand as if this was the last thing he wanted to talk about.  “She tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on me at some point.  B-but it was my fault, I was being a prick during the dinner party and-”

“It’s not your fault, Padfoot,” James interrupted him, who refused to hear his best friend blame him for something like this.  “It doesn’t matter what you did, it’s an unforgivable curse for a reason.  There’s not a single excuse for her to have tried that on you,” he told him, wrapping his arm around his friends shoulder to give him a bit of a hug.  

Sirius just nodded quickly and weakly, obviously not agreeing with James at that moment but not in the mood to argue about it, running his hands down his face with a soft sigh.

“What happened at the party?” Lucy asked gently, partly out of curiosity and partly because she wanted to see how ridiculous his mother’s reaction was.  Having known Sirius as long as she has, Lucy knew by now that Walburga had the tendency to blow things out of proportion, and Orion usually backed her up; whether it was because he agreed with her or he was afraid of her, Lucy hadn’t quite figured that out yet. 

Sirius took a deep breath and grabbed one of the untouched butterbeers off the table, which had been long forgotten by the twins.  “Mum had our Uncle Cygnus and his family over, except ‘Dromeda.  Bella and Narcissa brought their husbands, and it was the first time Bella and Rodolphus were there as a married couple, so mum was especially uptight about everything,” Sirius explained, running his hands back through his hair again, his eyes flitting over to the fireplace again. 

“After dinner, we were all just sitting in the parlor and talking, and Reg had left to go get some cigars or something for dad and the other men there, so it was basically just me with Rodolphus and Lucius.  Lucius started making comments about… You-Know-Who, and then said something about Muggle-borns.  I got mad, partially because it was obviously offensive, and partially because I’ve gotten close with Lily since you guys hung out a lot more this year, so I said something to him, and we had a back and forth, until we both pulled our wands on each other,” Sirius told them, eventually pulling off the ring he had been messing with and tossing it on the table.  “Mum walked in at the wrong time, and got reasonably upset, then sent me to my room.  When she came up after everyone left, that’s when everything happened.  She said the usual: she wished she had a better son, that she should’ve gotten rid of me when I had the chance, a few hexes in between, all that fun stuff…” he said, giving a bitter chuckle as he took a quick drink of the butter beer. 

“Then she added the curse in there, and I realized I had to leave, so I packed my trunk up with what I could and floo’d over here the second they went to bed,” he finished, leaning back into the couch and focusing on the dying fire in front of him, afraid of how his friends would react to all of this. 

The Potter twins didn’t even know how to react at first.  Both of them just started at Sirius for a bit, their attention shifting to each other after a few quiet moments.  It was almost as if they were having their own quiet conversation, trying to figure out what they should do. 

“I hate when you two do that, you know,” Sirius muttered after a few quiet minutes, taking another long swig of butter beer.  He looked between them and gave a weak laugh, shaking his head a bit.  “I don’t have to stay here if it’s a problem.  I just know how Lyall and Hope can be about me, and I didn’t know how Peter would react, and I remembered you told me that one time that I could always come if something happened at home…” Sirius explained, his voice trailing off as he looked over to Lucy.  

James looked back to his sister curiously before turning back to Sirius quickly.  “It’s no problem at all, Sirius.  Don’t worry about it,” James said quickly, clapping his hand over his shoulder.  Sirius gave him a weak smile, before he leaned into him a bit slowly, until he found his face buried in his friends’ shoulder, his arms wrapped around him in the tightest hug possible, and did his best to hold back any tears.   Lucy frowned a bit over to her brother, who wrapped his arms around Sirius as well, before she did the same, resting her head between his shoulder blades.  

At that moment, it was like something inside of him snapped, and he finally let go.  His body shook with sobs as he latched onto his two closest friends, his eyes burning as they flooded with salty tears that he had been holding back for sixteen years, tears that he had been too afraid to let out.  They all ran down his cheeks as he practically collapsed into a heap between Lucy and James, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders that he hardly noticed was weighing him down anymore.  Of course he was frustrated and upset, but at the same time, for the first time in his life, he felt like he had been freed.  It was different from when he first got to Hogwarts and was away from his parents for the first time, since he still felt his parents looming presence over him, whether through different letters his parents sent throughout the year, his cousins or brother, or even a portrait of a Black family member somewhere in the castle - now, he felt like he could finally get rid of them, and he’d be able to be his own person, without having to worry subconsciously what his parents were going to do if they ever found out. 

It took a good ten minutes, maybe even more, for him to finally get everything out.  The three of them remained in their messy grouping, though, the twins not wanting to move in case Sirius still needed them, and Sirius in desperate need to hold onto them, wanting to keep the closest thing he ever had to a family as close to him as humanly possible.

None of them really knew how long they were sitting there, only that none of them moved, except to shift to be more comfortable every now and then, until they heard two sets of feet slowly making their way down the steps just after the sun had risen in the early morning sky.  

“What’s going on down here?” a deep male voice asked, causing the three of them to sit up straight quickly and turn to face Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.

Sirius, to everyone’s surprise, spoke up for all of them.  “I’m sorry for the intrusion, Mr. and Mrs. Potter.  I just… had a really rough night and didn’t know what to do except to come here,” he explained, wringing his fingers out in front of him anxiously, like he was worried to have another set of adults be frustrated with him so quickly together. 

James and Lucy, however, weren’t about to let that happen.  “It’s our fault,” the two of them said in unison, standing up so they could properly face their parents. 

Euphemia and Fleamont both raised a brow, but said nothing as they waited for their children’s excuse.  “I told Sirius a while back he was always welcome if anything bad happened at home,” Lucy explained.

“I made sure he knew where to go and that he could always use the Floo Network if he needed to come here,” James added, almost making it into a competition for who could take more of the blame off of Sirius. 

Mr. and Mrs. Potter looked between the three of them for a moment, and just relaxed.  “Good thing I hadn’t started on breakfast before you arrived.  Do you like blueberry pancakes, Sirius?”  Euphemia asked, leading the rest of the family into the kitchen as she spoke. 

Sirius grinned widely from ear to ear at her response, nodding gently.  “They’re my favorite,” he told her, beginning to follow before he stopped.  The twins stopped with him, turning to face him almost nervously.  Lucy chewed on the inside of his cheek, and James shoved his hands into his pockets as they waited patiently for what Sirius needed to say or do. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, weakly smiling down at his feet for a moment  before looking up to them again.  “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have you two,” he admitted, folding his arms across his chest. 

The twins just smiled, each of them wrapping an arm around Sirius.  “You’re like our brother, Pads.  This is your home as much as ours,” James told him. 

Sirius just grinned widely, like those few words had made him the happiest person in the entire world.  He wrapped one arm around each of them, before the three of them finally made their way into the kitchen for their first meal as a proper family. 

-x-x-x-

As Lucy finished the story, she looked down at Harry to see him enthralled in the picture of Sirius and his father at the wedding yet again.  She smiled softly, combing her fingers through his dark brown hair. 

“Did he always live with you guys after that?” Harry asked, looking up to his aunt after a minute.  

She thought over the question for a minute before nodding gently, giving him a warm smile.  “Until we graduated from Hogwarts.  Your mum and dad got their own little place, and Uncle Padfoot and I lived with Uncle Remus and Uncle Peter for a few years.  Then Uncle Remus had to go do some things for work, and Uncle Peter decided to go and live with his parents again, so it was just me and Uncle Padfoot for a little while, until I got to take care of you,” she said with a warm smile, tapping his nose playfully.

“Why didn’t Uncle Padfoot take care of me with you?” he asked curiously, his head tilting to the side a bit. 

Sometimes Lucy hated how much he looked like his father. 

“Because Uncle Padfoot had to go live somewhere else, and neither of us could go with him,” she explained to him gently, giving him a sad smile.  She knew she couldn’t tell him what had really happened to his uncle - not yet, at least.  He probably wouldn’t even fully understand if she did tell him.

Harry just nodded, and scrambled up from his seat in his aunt���s lap.  Lucy got up as well, checking the time on the grandfather clock pushed into the corner of the living room.  “Looks like it’s time for bed, bug,” she told him, holding her hand out for him before she led him up to his bedroom and getting him ready for bed. 

She got him out a pair of pajamas and helped him comb out his hair, before tucking him into his scarlet and gold sheets and making sure he had his favorite stuffed animal right beside him.  

“G’night, B.P.,” she told her nephew once he was fully in bed, taking off his glasses and setting them on the little bedside table. 

“Aunt Lucy?” he asked, sitting up a bit in his bed so he could look at her as best as he could without his glasses. 

She turned back to him with a small smile, folding her arms across her chest as she took a few steps towards him.  “What’s up?”

“Do you think we’ll ever get to see Uncle Padfoot again?” he asked, leaning back against his pillows as he spoke.  

Lucy swallowed thickly but did her best to keep her gentle smile presented to her nephew, shaking her head gently.  “I don’t think so, bubba,” she told him honestly.  

The boy accepted this answer much better than Lucy had anticipated, before he finally laid back to go to sleep.  “I wonder if he’s alright,” he thought aloud, to her, turning to face his aunt quickly.  “Goodnight, L.P.”

Lucy smiled again, flicking off the light.  “Goodnight, B.P.,” she said again, before slowly closing the door and making her way down to the living room again.  

The biggest scrapbook was still open to the wedding section, where there was a picture of all the boys together, practically hanging off of each other as they laughed at something stupid that one of them probably said.  Lucy looked down at the photo fondly, dragging her fingertips across the edge of the photograph before she closed the book with a sigh.  “I hope he’s alright,” she breathed out quietly to herself, shaking her head a bit before beginning to clean up the area a bit so she could head to bed.

As Lucy made her way up to her own bedroom, she passed the picture frames that showed all of her friends and family at their happiest moments that hung on the wall.  As she looked at a picture of Sirius smiling brightly with her and her brother on their first Christmas together, she didn’t realize that hundreds of kilometers away, he was holding so dearly onto memories just like that one, hoping it wasn’t taken away from him every time the black, ghostly figures passed by his cell.  She didn’t know how much hell he went through every day, blaming himself for every little thing that had gone wrong that night, reliving the moment when he found his two best friends in their ruined house in Godric’s Hollow.  

All she knew was she lost her two brothers in one night, and it hurt her more than she could say whenever she saw that picture.  She could practically hear the two boys fighting over who got to open the first present, practically seeing them nearly knock over the tree as they wrestled a present between themselves.  And it hurt her even more that she’d never experience one of those moments ever again.

Yet she still hoped that he would be okay as she finally got into bed, falling asleep as she wished she could tell him one last time that everything would be okay and one day he’d be able to see his godson again.

Oddly enough, it was that same thought that helped lull him to sleep, miles and miles away.

[twokinkybeans]

Stark On Ice Chapter 3: 7 A.M.

7 A.M.: “Seriously, another romantic song? What the fuck, Steve.”

Peter bites down his bottom lip at Tony’s snarky reply to the song reveal. It’s Monday morning, and they’re discussing their plan for the upcoming week. They’re looking at their seventh show already and from now on they’ll have to perform two choreos rather than just one. It’s safe to say that Tony is stressed. He’s tired. Tired of the intensive training for a sport he’d never done in his life. Tired of the country’s eyes on him. Of course, he’s used to being in the center of attention, but never before had his sexuality been such a hot item. Peter knows how much pressure there is on him right now, and he doesn’t really blame him for feeling on edge. However, he will not allow the man to scold their friend and coach just like that.  “Tony, come on, it’s-” “Oh,” Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Shut up.”

What?

Peter scoffs and raises from his seat. Tony’s lips part and Peter can see the regret crossing his face. He feels bad for the man, but he’s not going to let himself be treated this way. He doesn’t want to practice lifts when the man is this tense. So he grabs his bag and sighs. “Alright, then. Go home, take care of yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Wha-” He hears Tony’s dumbfounded voice behind him. Peter simply ignores it and lets out a small breath when the door falls shut behind him. He almost feels guilty about walking away without saying another word. Without giving Tony a chance to speak. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they’ll discuss it properly. 

He heads towards the rink downstairs and smiles at the familiar, comforting cold when he steps inside. It’s not like Tony is the only one who’s made sacrifices to participate in the contest. It’s been too long since Peter just… Skated. No choreo, no teaching, just flowing wherever the music takes him. Since it’s only 7 am the rink is still nearly empty. Peter sits down at one of the benches and slides his feet inside the skates. He doesn’t even bother taping his ankles the way he usually does to protect his skin. He won’t be on the ice too long anyways. He- “Hey, Pete.” Peter turns around and is surprised to see MJ standing on the ice and leaning on the edge of the rink.  “Hey hey,” he replies, forcing a smile on his lips. He enjoys seeing her, but somehow the little incident with Tony has crept under his skin. “Trouble in paradise, huh?” “Ugh, Tony’s a genuinely nice man, but he’s awfully stressed out and taking it out on Steve and me.” “So you left?” “Mh-mh.” “Cool. That’ll do him some good. Now get your ass over here and skate with me.” 

Peter smiles and gets up, letting his worries glide off his shoulders when he feels the smooth ice allowing him to slide across. This is where he belongs most. This is where he feels free. MJ grins and grabs both his hands. She too is meant for figure skating. Her grace, her passion, her- Peter frowns and tightens his grip on her hands a little. His head snaps up worriedly. Her fingers are rough and chafed. And thin. “Michelle,” he breathes quietly. The girl freezes right where she stands, and he feels the tension rising in her body. “Peter, it’s nothing I swear.” “Then how did you know what I was gonna say?”

MJ presses her lips together and pulls her hands back. She crosses her arms in an attempt to hide them. Peter takes a quick glance at her body and feels panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t been paying attention. Hadn’t seen it coming. Her thin frame is showing more bone than it usually does. He spots how she tried to use a thicker pair of leggings to cover it up, but he knows her. “It’s…” MJ sighs. She knows that he knows. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.” Her voice is small and defensive. Scared. Peter’s heart tugs at his chest and he bridges the gap between them. MJ relaxes slightly in his hold. How hadn’t he seen it earlier? “Has anyone… Said, y’ know, stuff to you?” Peter asks carefully. MJ shakes her head right away. “Not directly. It’s...” Her voice trails off, and she stares at her toe picks. “YouTube is different than national television. People have strong opinions. If they don’t like Clint, they hate me. If they love Clint, they hate me. I… My thoughts… They try to come up with a solution on how to fix that.” “Em…” “Peter, please. Don’t worry about it too much ‘kay? I’ve already told Pep. She’s getting me a referral to Dr. Banner again.”

Peter stares at her in awe and tears cloud his vision. “I am so proud of you,” he chokes out and hugs her again, more tightly this time. She’s been struggling again, but… She spoke to her coach about it. Pepper is fantastic, she’ll definitely make sure MJ gets the care she needs so much. He feels her smile against his cheek, and he sighs. It’s not the first time she’s struggled with food. It’s hard, in the ice skating world. Most skaters have… a handful of bad habits to cope with the stress of upholding their physique and nailing every performance. Peter has a bad habit of not taking good care of his blistered toes until he literally can’t walk. Sometimes, he pulls an all-nighter just to watch stupid movies on Instagram or TikTok or whatever, because the thought of laying down in the dark by himself is too much. It’s not right, but… He thinks he’s still doing reasonably well. Not aiming for the Olympics definitely helps. The thought alone has him shudder.

MJ nudges his side, and the movement has him break from his string of thought. “Wanna skate together?” MJ’s posture stills show how uncertain she feels, but her eyes light up at her mere suggestion, so Peter can’t say no. He never could. Not his skating partner and friend. “Of course, I… Did you eat this morning?” MJ presses her lips together again, but nods. “I… Yeah. I did. Not much, but enough to train. I promise.” “Good. Alright, let’s go through Watermelon Sugar?” “Ohhhh yes, I’d love that!”

Breathe me in, breathe me out, I don’t know if I could ever go without.

-

After an hour of training, Peter called for a break. In all honesty, he just didn’t want MJ to overtrain. He invited her into his little studio for a second breakfast instead. She’s seated at his kitchen table now while Peter preps their meal. “So about you and Tony-”

Her sentence is cut off by Peter’s phone vibrating on top of the kitchen counter. Incoming Call: Tony Stark. For a split second Peter debates whether he should ignore or pick up. He low-key wants to hear what Tony has to say. He taps the green button and brings the phone to his ear, sliding his other hand through his hair nervously. “Hi, Tony.” “Peter, hey.” Quiet. “Thank you for picking up.” “Yeah.” “I… I am sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Tony whispers. “Or Steve, of course.” 

Peter frowns a little, but a smile creeps onto his face. He honestly hadn’t thought that Tony Stark would apologize this soon. “Mmmh, apologies accepted, Tony. Thank you for calling me. I’m sorry too, I probably shouldn’t have left.” “Would… Would you be up for a cup of coffee later? My treat, of course.” Peter eyes MJ real quickly. The girl, who has already figured out what’s happening, waves her hand quickly. “Go!” she mouths. Peter grins. “Yeah, sure thing.” And feeling a little bold, he adds. “Only if you come to pick me up in one of your fancy cars personally.” Both MJ and Tony snort in unison.  “Deal.”

-

Peter sips his mocha latte and groans quietly when a dot of whipped cream sticks to his upper lip. He sucks his lip into his mouth and sighs contently. Only then he realizes that Tony is watching him. Peter blushes, and- 

Oh god. He blushed. He blushed. Nononono-

“I, eh,” he stutters and puts the mug down. He wants to say something but he has no clue what. He can’t shake the feeling that the way they’re hanging out now very much resembles a date.  God, especially since MJ showed him this… fanfiction thing earlier this morning. He’s heard of the phenomenon before, but never in his whole life did he think that one day people would be writing about him. MJ told him ever so seriously that she had, in fact, read some of them, and she’d been gushing about this Superhero AU where Peter is a kid with spider powers and Tony a mechanic that built a metal suit to fight off Earth’s greatest villains. As she explained the plot, Peter had to admit it did sound rather creative.  No clue why someone would give him weird insect powers, but if it works, it works, right?

It’s just that he… He never quite realized how smitten he is with Tony until MJ quoted a love scene, causing Peter to feel this stab of jealousy in his chest because fiction-Peter could have Tony, and he  couldn’t. So now, with Tony watching him like that, it seems like a slight overload of his senses. It has him paralyzed. Good or bad, he hasn’t figured out yet. Thank God it’s Tony who breaks the silence between them.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier today, Peter. I’m not sure what came over me, I… I panicked.” Tony sighs and stares at the floor. Peter’s earlier worries moving to the back of his mind. He feels they’re treading on thin ice. “Y’know Peter, my dad… He was very much against homosexuality. Always warned me. Threatened me. I know he’s not here to judge me anymore but… It feels wrong that the entirety of the US knows now… It’s- I don’t-” Tony can’t seem to find the right words and he casts his eyes down. His fingers curling around the ear of the mug a bit too tightly. His knuckles white, other hand pressed into the wooden table. Peter swallows. Carefully, he reaches out for Tony’s shaky hand. “Hey,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Tony lifts his head slowly at those words. Peter’s heartbeat picks up rapidly when he sees Tony’s longing, no- yearning stare. Could this mean… It feels far too intimate and yet not close enough where their hands are touching. Peter slowly curls his fingers to drag the tips across the back of the man’s hand. Tony clears his throat.  “I…” his voice sounds squeaky and tense. “It feels wrong that the entire US has seen how I fell in love with you, and I barely even registered it.”

Peter can’t seem to breathe anymore. He blinks. Once. Twice. Did Tony really just say that? He feels sweaty, hot all over. Flustered, confused. He opens his mouth only to shut it again and blows his cheeks up- a stupid nervous tick. Tony’s hand twitches underneath his own, and then the man tries to slide it back. “Peter, I’m so sorry, I thought maybe-” Peter grabs Tony’s hand more tightly. “ Yes. ” Peter rushes as he suddenly finds his voice again. “Tony... Yes. I feel the same way.” 

Both men stare at each other intently. Their hands painstakingly close, yet they both press into each other a bit more. Peter’s gaze drops to Tony’s slightly parted lips. Oh, how he wants to kiss him. How he wants to feel the rough stubble against his cheeks. He wants to taste the dark, bitter espresso lingering on the man’s tongue as they breathe into each other. When Peter looks up, he can see the exact same thoughts crossing Tony’s mind and he gasps. The older man groans and pulls his hand back quickly.

“We can’t. Not… Not in here, Peter.” “Too public, I get it.” “Yeah.” “I-” Peter’s voice is cut off by the sudden loud ringtone playing from Tony’s phone. The man curses under his breath and grabs it from the table. “Shit, it’s Happy. I gotta take this one,” Tony apologizes, and Peter nods. The boy leans back in his chair and licks his lips absentmindedly as he gestures for Tony to pick up. He doesn’t quite follow what Tony says to his assistant. Chauffeur. PA. Whatever Happy’s function is. All he sees is how Tony’s expression darkens and he knows it’s not a good sign. Tony rambles on and then ends the call. Peter tilts his head. “You have to go, don’t you?” Peter sees the way Tony’s expression falters and sighs when the man nods. Confirming his suspicions. “I am so so so sorry, you have no idea how badly I want to stay here, with… With you.” Tony’s voice sounds so soft and gentle, and a downhearted smile tugs on his lips. Peter wants to bridge the gap between them and kiss him anyways. Make him stay. But he knows that Tony runs a business. If it’s important, it’s important.  “Go. We have time.” “Yeah,” Tony breathes. He leans forward again and quickly squeezes Peter’s hand. “We do.” 

Peter watches how Tony grabs his jacket and gives him one last dazzling smile before hurrying out of the little cafe. Peter huffs a bewildered breath now that reality crashes down on him. He smiles into the distance as he picks up his mocha latte and chuckles to himself when he realizes he’s counting down the hours until tomorrow morning, 7 am. That’s when they’ll see each other again in the rink. He smiles when he realizes that their song is, indeed, yet again, a romantic song.

I been tryna call I been on my own for long enough Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe

---

Masterpost Next Chapter

[babybottlepop96]

A/N: just a cute little story about my favorite superhero!

Warnings: fluff... Pinning...... Attempted rape (but nothing actually happens so no graphic shit happening cause that's just terrible but thought I should put it in there)

Who would've thought being the new kid would be awkward and weird? Every new kid, that's who and it was no different for (y/n) as she entered her new school. Moving from Pennsylvania to New York hadn't been a drastic change, only a few hours drive, but the change from being in amish country to the hustle and bustle of New York, was very different for her. When she entered the school, all eyes were on her. She felt self conscience, wrapping her arms around her torso. Her (h/c) hair was up in a high ponytail, her thick black framed glasses sat perched on her nose as her (e/c) was cast down towards the floor, avoiding the stares of the other students. She was wearing an oversized black sweater that ended just below her ass and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans with her black converse.

She made quick work of finding her locker, looking at her schedule and grabbing the books she needed, throwing into her Star Wars backpack. She closed her locker once she had everything and made her way towards her first class. One thing though, she had no idea where any of her classes were.

"Hey, you look a little lost. Need any help?" A male voice spoke to her from the side, she glanced towards the boy with short black hair and a friendly smile. 

"Y-yeah, thank you." He looked at her schedule.

"Hey, you got the same class as me!" He smiled and (y/n) returned it. "My name is Ned." 

"(Y/n), it's nice to meet you." The two soon arrived at the classroom and Ned waved to you as he walked towards a couple of other students as (y/n) made her way to the teacher. 

"Hey Ned! Who was the girl you were talking to?" A girl with curly black hair asked.

"Her name is (y/n), it's her first day and she looked lost. Why yabask, MJ?"

"Because, Peter has been staring at her ever since you two walked in." She smiled and sure enough, the blonde haired boy next to her was still looking at her. "Hello, earth to Peter!" Mj snapped her fingers in his ear.

"Hmm? What?" Peter looked at his friends, both having smug looks plastered across their faces. "What?" 

"Ok every, take your seats…." The teacher then began the lesson, something about basic acids and solvents and shit like that. Basically a review of basic Chemistry, but Peter couldn't focus, he was too busy looking at the (h/c) hairs girl sitting in front a few rows over. Suddenly the bell rang and Peter was snapped out of his daydream. The class gathered up their things and exited into the hallway.

"Hey, Ned?" A female voice sounded behind the three amigos.

"Oh, hey (y/n)! What's up? Ned asked as he turned to her.

"I have no idea where my next class is." She said shyly, a small blush tinting her cheeks. Ned took a look at her schedule and smiled. 

"You actually have class with Peter next." He smiled at Peter, whose face was also starting to grow a blush.

"Well, we will see you at lunch Pete." MJ put her hand on his shoulder and MJ and Ned left, leaving Peter and (y/n) alone.

"So… uhmm.. c-can you lead the way?" She asked.

"Oh, umm.. Y-yeah! Follow me." Peter then turned and started to walk, (y/n) following behind. What neither of the two new, was that this was going to be the start of a wonderful friendship.

Time skip to two months later, Peter and (y/n) were at his apartment, working on their photography assignment. "Peter, (y/n)?"

"Yes Aunt May?" Peter called from his bedroom.

"I'm heading out, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Ok! See you later! Have fun! USE PROTECTION!" Peter called and the sound of May's heels stopped for a moment accompanied by a sigh and stifled  laughter. Then the door opened and closed and (y/n) and Peter were left alone.

"Really, Parker? Use protection?" She laughed and Peter just smiled that dorky smile that (y/n) grew to love. Actually, she grew to love everything about the boy sitting in front of her. His laugh, his smile, his love for StarWars and just everything.

"What can I say? She told me the same thing before you came over." He laughed and then froze. She stared at him, face frozen in a state of shock. His face grew redder and redder with passing second. 

"She…. " 

"Yeahhh…." He said drawing out the word. Neither of them said anything for a moment until (y/n) started laughing. 

"Oh my God! That's hysterical! Best aunt ever! I mean, seriously! My family barely remembers my name and if anything like that is said, I'd be looking for a new place to live! Oh my God I love your aunt!" Peter's face grew hotter, though he began to smile even more. As the night came closer, the two decided they had enough of school work and decided to watch a movie. StarWars, obviously. "Come on Peter! How can you say that Revenge of the Sith is better than Rouge One!"

"Because this is where Vader comes into play!"

"But Rouge One has so much more plot and the story is just amazing and it's one with a sad ending! Most of the others have happyish endings!"

"Why do you like sad endings?"

"Because it's a nice change from the usually happy ending most movies have." She shrugged and Peter sighed and put on Rouge One. "Aww! Thank you, Peter!" She kissed his cheek and snuggled close to Peter's side. Peter on the other hand, couldn't pay attention to anything, she kissed his cheek. (Y/n), kissed…. His cheek! "Ok, I should probably get home." (Y/n) when the movie ended. 

"Yeah.. probably, don't want ya to get into trouble." She smiled at him and grabbed her things.

"I'll see ya tomorrow. To finish our project." Peter nodded in agreement, to say he was excited was an understatement. He had grown feelings for this girl since that very first day she arrived. She was funny and kind and sweet. Always knew what to say when he was stressing about something, mainly about his Spidey duties, but she doesn't need to know about that.

(Y/n) walked down the dimly lit streets, taking alley ways to make the long walk home shorter. Suddenly, a large hand was on her shoulder, pushing her into the grimy wall. "Keep quiet and this will all go smoothly." The deep voice spoke, every word dripped with malice. (Y/n) whimpered a bit, scared out of her wits, with no one around to save her at this time of night. One of the man's hands gripped at her throat, slightly squeezing as if he was saying, "I'm in charge and there is nothing you can do about it." His other hand roamed her hips and sides. She let another small whimper.

"P-please! Don't do this!" She struggled a bit before his grip on her throat tightened, leaving just enough room for her to get some small breaths.

"I would let her go if I was you." A voice sounded from behind the man. The man turned and (y/n) got a glimpse of the person who spoke. A tallish figure adorning a blue and red suit and mask, a spider in the center of the chest. The infamous SpiderMan that she heard everyone in school talking about. The brutish man laughed.

"And what are you gonna do about it, wannabe superhero?"  Suddenly a web was shot out, covering the man's mouth and the man let out a muffled scream, letting go of (y/n)'s neck. She drew in some much needed breaths as she began to run away, suddenly the man grabbed the hood of her sweatshirt and tugged her back harshly. She fell backwards and her head smacked against the concrete.

Her vision started to go in and out as she groaned and went to turn over onto her stomach, muffled screams and sounds of bodies being thrown against dumpsters could be faintly heard through the ringing in her ears. Suddenly, a hand was coming towards her and she screamed and scooted back. "Hey, it's okay. It's me, SpiderMan." She looked at the hooded hero and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly and thanking him over and over again. Then, Spiderman held her and whispered, "hold on." And the two lifted from the ground, swinging through the city. 

Soon they landed on the roof of her apartment building and she let go of him. "I would like to thank you again, for saving me." She blushed.

"Anything for a pretty lady." 

"C-can I kiss you?" She asked and he nodded. She walked over and gently tugged the mask just above his mouth and gave a sweet kiss on his lips. He gently kissed back, placing his hands on the small of her back. Once they pulled apart she smiled and rolled his mask back down. "I'll see you tomorrow, Peter." She smirked and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Peter called after her, taking his mask fully off. "How did you know it was me!?"

"I didn't, not until I saw those lips, the lips I fantasized about kissing for months." She giggled and walked through the door leading inside her apartment building, leaving a dumbfounded but smiling Peter Parker.

"See you tomorrow." He waved at the door, he pulled his mask back on and jumped from the building, swinging away with the stupidest smiling face. At least he wasn't the only who fantasized about kissing the other one.

[themficstho]

Strip Me Bare, Make Me Yours

Summary: When a mission calls for Peter to pose as a stripper in order to catch the bad guy of the week, what's Tony going to do about it?

Reposting from my AO3 account: hhisim828

This wasn’t right. He couldn’t let them do this. Not to the kid. He was too young. Okay, yes, technically Peter was 21 now, so LEGALLY he was an adult, but come on! Did he really have to be put in for THIS mission?! Tony shifted in his seat, watching Peter get briefed on the team’s newest assignment. “Jameson likes ‘em young, he likes ‘em innocent, so that’s where you come in, Peter. You’ll be posing as a fresh-faced stripper, seduce Jameson into one of the back rooms of the club, and that’s where we’ll catch him.” Peter nodded, the blush on his cheeks only becoming deeper the more Maria Hill explained the mission to everyone. He as biting his lip as he memorized the picture of the man he would have to pretend to seduce. Tony shook his head, standing up suddenly. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea. The kid is too young for this. I don’t think he’s—“ “Mister Stark? It’s fine, really. I can do it. I-I really think I can.” Peter looked up at Tony from across the table, cheeks still stained pink, offering a comforting smile. “I’m okay with it. If this is what it takes to catch this guy before anyone else gets hurt, I’ll do it.” “Then it’s settled. Tomorrow night is the night, so get plenty of rest.” Maria wrapped up the meeting, collecting her paperwork and walking out, chatting with Steve about the team plan for the following night at the club. “Kid, are you sure you’re okay with this? If you want out, just say so. We’ll get this guy another way.” Tony clapped Peter on the shoulder as they walked out of the briefing room together, heading to the elevator. “I promise, Mister Stark, I’m good. I can do it.” He still looked nervous, but Tony recognized the look of determination in Peter’s face. He hated that look in that moment. “Plus, you’ll be there if anything happens, right? I-I-I mean, the team! The team will be there. And you will be there too cuz you’re on the team! Yeah..,” his voice trailed off as the blush bloomed afresh across his cheeks. Tony nodded and squeezed Peter’s shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “I’ll be there, kid. Promise.”

10:30pm, and the club’s full to bursting. Men in various states of undress milled around, flirting with customers and delivering drinks. Tony was off to one side, near the hallway that lead to the back rooms for private dances, keeping to the shadows and doing his best to stay hidden. Everyone would recognize Iron Man, and he didn’t need to cause a ruckus when there was so much on the line tonight. “Folks, we have an up and comer heading to the stage tonight. He’s brand new and oh, so shy, so be gentle with him. Give it up for Spyder!” Cheers and applause rose from the crowd as the stage lights slowly came up. And there he was. Peter was wearing a pair of bright blue hot pants and a crimson crop top. His hair was a tousled mess of curls, and there was dark liner smeared around his eyes. He looked like he just rolled out of bed after several rounds of rough sex. Tony groaned quietly and shifted from foot to foot, trying to ignore the aching throb between his legs. ‘Now is NOT the time,’ he thought to himself. Peter started dancing, slow and sensual, rubbing himself against the pole in the center of the stage, his lithe body twisting and bending in ways that really ought to be illegal. Tony bit down hard on his bottom lip and quickly adjusted himself. He was really supposed to be watching Jameson, who was directly in front of the stage. But Tony couldn’t have looked away from the show Peter was putting on, even if there was a gun to his head. The dance was over far too fast for Tony’s liking. Peter walked across the stage, sweat glistening on his body in the bright lights, collecting his tips from the patrons closest to the stage. When he got to Jameson, Tony saw the older man grasp Peter’s wrist tightly and pull him closer to murmur something in his ear. Peter smiled shyly and nodded in response. Tony felt a jolt of white-hot jealousy shoot through his body. He glared at the back of Jameson’s head as the criminal sat back and conferred with his cronies on either side of him. The young man stood up and made his way off the stage as the announcer yelled into the microphone, “One more time, folks, for Spyder!”  The crowd screamed, whistled, and clapped in response. “He asked for a private dance. 15 minutes.” Peter whispered into the comm. Tony felt his muscles stiffen up and he stood straighter, watching Jameson more closely. “We’re all in position. Room 3.” Steve responded.

10 minutes later, Peter emerged from back stage, walking across the club toward the hallway Tony was standing in front of. He’d changed his outfit: no shirt this time, just a pair of black hot pants, black leather cuffs on each wrist, and blood red, strappy high heels. The hot pants left very little to the imagination. The heels made his long legs look even longer. ‘How the hell is he walking so easily in those?’ Tony thought, feeling his arousal flare back to life. A few men stopped him on his way, asking for their own chance at a private dance, or offering to buy Peter a drink. He giggled and thanked them, playing the part of the sweet, innocent new stripper far too well. Tony seethed at the other men silently, watching Peter closely as he slipped out of one man’s grasp. He walked past Tony, sparing a quick glance to his mentor, and then pausing in the hallway to catch his breath. Peter felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. He felt dizzy and nervous at what he needed to do. ‘It’s simple. Lead him into room 3, and let the team take it from there. I can do this,’ he thought, and sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. “He’s on the move. Heading your way, Pete.” Tony murmured into the comm. Peter nodded then remembered no one could see him. “Copy that,” he replied quickly.

Jameson grinned when he walked into the hallway and caught sight of Peter. “There you are, baby. Time to have you all to myself.” Peter blushed and started to walk toward room 3. “Wait, let’s go into this one.” Jameson opened the door to room 1, beckoning Peter closer. Peter hesitated. “I-uh. I reserved this one for us, though? Don’t wanna get in trouble with my manager for going into the wrong room, you know?” Jameson shook his head. “It won’t be a problem, don’t you worry. I know the manager. Now come on. I don’t like to be kept waiting.” Peter hesitated again, but then followed Jameson into the room; his heart was pounding so loud that he was sure Jameson would hear it over the thumping bass line of the music coming from the club. ‘FUCK,’ Tony swore in his mind. He’d heard everything through the comm, unsure of what to do. “Cap, what’s the plan here?” “We’re working on it. Which room did he go into?” Steve replied. Tony could here a muffled rustling as the team tried to regroup and find Peter. “I don’t know. I didn’t have eyes on them. Was watching Jameson’s dumbass companions.” Tony replied tersely. ‘If anything happens to that kid, I swear…’ There was a sudden crash and yelling over the comms and Tony ran into the hallway, trying to figure out which room the noise had come from. Steve and the rest of the team came running out as well just as another crash sounded from room 1. Tony ran to the door and ripped it open. “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM YOU DISGUTING SON OF A--“ Tony cut himself off when he took in the scene around him. Peter standing over Jameson’s body, which was webbed up to the pole in the center of the space. 3 of Jameson’s crew, who must have already been planted in the room, were also webbed up on the ground. The couch and chair were both toppled on their sides. Peter was panting hard, but grinning. “Got him,” he said simply. Tony grabbed Peter and pulled him into a hug. “Are you okay? How the fuck did you do that?” Peter pulled away slightly and held up his hands. What Tony had thought were leather cuffs were modified web shooters. “Nano bots,” Peter shrugged and blushed. “You left the info about them up on your computer a few months ago, so I decided to try ‘em out. I hope that’s okay…” He looked up at Tony nervously. Tony just laughed and nodded, hugging Peter tight once again. “Yeah, kid. All good.”

Several hours later, the team was splitting up to head off to their rooms to go to bed. “Great work today, Peter,” Maria Hill patted him on the back as she was leaving the debrief meeting. Peter had pulled on a plain black hoodie, but still wore the hot pants and heels. He blushed and fidgeted with the hem of the hoodie as he thanked her. “Come on, kid. Let’s head up to bed. Think you earned a day of sleeping in tomorrow.” Tony led Peter out of the room and into the elevator. The elevator stopped on Tony and Peter’s floor. Tony had insisted that the kid’s room be down the hall from his. He claimed it was because he promised his aunt that he’d watch out for the boy, which was half true. The other half was so that Tony could keep a close eye on the young man for his own selfish reasons. ‘Don’t want him running around with someone who isn’t me,’ the jealous, possessive part of Tony’s brain said. They paused outside of Tony’s bedroom. “M-mister Stark. Can I uh, get your help with something?” Peter was fidgeting and blushing again, staring at the floor. “Sure, kid. What’s the matter?” Tony let his eyes rove across Peter’s face and body, looking for any signs of something wrong. “It’s just that, during the fight with Jameson, the knots on these shoes got pulled really tight, so now I can’t get them off. I just—could you help me out of ‘em?” Peter looked down at his feet and Tony followed his gaze. The straps were indeed pulled tight around Peter’s ankles, looking almost painful. “Of course I can. Come on in and sit down, lemme take a look.” Tony ushered Peter into his bedroom, directing him to sit on the edge of the bed. The older man knelt in front of Peter, pulling one delicate foot onto his knee and studying the knot in the straps. He fumbled with it and tried to get it undone for a minute or two, and then sighed in defeat. “Don’t think it’s coming loose in a hurry. You have any emotional attachment to these shoes?” Tony looked up at Peter who had been staring down at Tony with a mix of awe and arousal, his mouth hanging open slightly. Peter quickly closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “Uh, n-no. Just kinda liked ‘em, but no emotional attachment. Why?” “I’ll buy you a new pair then,” Tony replied as he pulled out a pocketknife. He slipped the blade carefully between the strap and Peter’s ankle and sliced through the leather easily. Peter whimpered and tugged the end of the hoodie over his lap quickly. Tony pulled the straps away and tugged the shoe off of Peter’s foot, rubbing at the indents left behind and looking up at Peter. “Better?” Peter nodded and squirmed in place, trying not to moan at the feeling of his mentor’s hands rubbing his ankle. Tony carefully set the now-freed foot on the ground and pulled the other one closer, giving it the same treatment, rubbing at the pink indents in that ankle as well. He watched Peter closely out of the corner of his eye and saw the boy rubbing his thighs together. Tony set Peter’s foot down and stood up slowly. He knew there was an obvious bulge at the front of his pants, but he found he didn’t care if the boy saw it. “Anything else you need help with, Mr. Parker?” Peter looked up at Tony, blushing, but feeling slightly bolder when he noticed the older man was just as turned on as he was. He stood up, unzipped the hoodie, and shrugged it off. He cocked his hips slightly, pointing at the zipper on the right side. “I think this might have gotten jammed too. Can you help me with it?” Tony smirked and ran his hand slowly from Peter’s ribs to his hip; letting his fingers memorize the soft texture of Peter’s skin. He pinched the tab of the zipper between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it down smoothly. He dipped his hand under the fabric and felt nothing but skin underneath. “Going commando, kid?” Tony teased, cupping a handful of Peter’s firm ass and giving it a squeeze. Peter pressed his body closer to Tony’s, pushing a thigh between the older man’s legs. “Don’t want any unflattering lines while I’m dancing, do I?” He stared up into Tony’s eyes, their faces now less than an inch from one another. “God forbid,” Tony murmured before sliding his free hand into Peter’s tousled curls and angling his head for a deep kiss. Tony tugged softly on Peter’s hair and pulled his body even closer, rubbing their aching cocks together, making the younger man moan around his tongue. Peter’s hands pulled weakly at Tony’s shirt, trying to remove it. The two broke away from one another briefly to toss the offending garment away before Peter all but jumped into Tony’s arms, wrapping his thin legs tight around Tony’s waist. Tony stepped forward and dropped Peter onto the bed. The young man let out a soft squeak of surprise as he hit the bed and bounced slightly, eyes widening as Tony undid his belt and shoved his pants and underwear to the ground. He crawled up the bed toward Peter’s frozen frame until he was towering over the smaller body. He rubbed his rough five o’clock shadow against Peter’s baby-smooth cheek. “What’s on your mind, baby boy?” Peter wrapped his legs back around Tony’s hips and dug his nails into his biceps. Their hard cocks rubbed together once more, only the thin fabric of Peter’s shorts in the way. “W-when I was dancing, I could see you watching me. I was hoping, maybe, you were enjoying it. That maybe…this could finally happen. I’ve wanted this—you--for a long time, Mister Stark.” Peter buried his face in Tony’s neck, embarrassed. Tony kissed Peter’s cheek softly. “Oh, honey. I enjoyed that show you put on way more than I should have. I couldn’t fucking look away. Been thinking about getting you in my bed for far longer than I care to admit.” Peter looked up in surprise and Tony took advantage of this by stealing another deep kiss. Peter pulled away and turned his head to the side, pink spreading up his face from his neck. “What’s the matter, baby?” Peter bit his lip and refused to look at Tony as he replied, “I-um. I’ve never actually…with anyone before. Like, I’ve kissed and stuff but not—“ Tony cupped Peter’s cheek and turned his head to make him look Tony in the eye. “Then I’ll just have to make sure I make tonight even more special for you, huh?” He kissed the younger man once, softly, before pulling away. Tony reached into the drawer in his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lotion, a bottle of lube and a condom, laying them all on the bed. “Let’s start by getting you relaxed. Lay on your stomach for me.” Peter rolled onto his stomach, propping his head up on a pillow. Tony straddled Peter’s hips and pumped some lotion onto his hands. He rubbed it into the smooth skin of Peter’s back, and then began massaging deep into the muscles. “Bet all that twisting you did when you were dancing tonight made you sore. And fighting those assholes off couldn’t have been easy either.” Peter hummed in acknowledgement, feeling the tension slip away with every deep rub of Tony’s strong hands. Tony worked his way down Peter’s back, paying close attention to every spot that made Peter moan and writhe in pleasure. When he reached Peter’s hips he paused to gently tug down the hot pants Peter still wore. He tossed them away once they were off, and resumed the massage, kneading his fingers into the tight muscles and plump roundness of Peter’s ass. Peter sighed and unconsciously spread his legs a bit as Tony worked his thumbs into the backs of Peter’s thighs. He kept up his ministrations with one hand while the other grabbed the bottle of lube and flipped the cap. Peter made a curious noise at the sound, but Tony shushed him gently. “Just moving on to the next part of the massage, baby. Don’t you worry. Just say stop if you need me to, okay?” Peter nodded and buried his face deeper into the pillow, spreading his legs a little further, knowing what was coming next. Tony leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the top of Peter’s thigh where the back of his leg connected to the rest of his body. He slicked up two of his fingers and slowly teased them between Peter’s cheeks to the tight opening hidden there. Peter gasped and wriggled a bit at the cool slickness, calming again at a few soft words of praise from Tony. “That’s it, Peter, just relax. Doing so well, baby. So, so good for me.” He let his middle finger breach the opening, just to the first knuckle. Peter moaned and tried to press back against the finger for more. Tony chuckled, letting a little more of his finger slide inside the younger man. “Eager for it, aren’t you?” Peter whined and nodded in reply. Once his finger was all the way inside, Tony gently slid it in and out a few times, letting the boy get used to the intrusion. “M-mister Stark, please sir…. more, p-please!” Peter squirmed in such a way that Tony knew he was rubbing himself against the bed beneath him. “Okay, baby. Just relax, I’ve got you.” Tony slipped his finger out, added a bit more lube, and then slid his middle and fore fingers inside together. Peter let out what sounded like a squeak of surprise, his body jumping slightly at the wider intrusion. Tony hushed him again, pausing every few centimeters so the boy didn’t get hurt. Once his fingers were completely in, he started to carefully scissor them apart, opening the boy’s body up a bit more. Peter started unconsciously thrusting back against Tony’s hand, moans and whimpers spilling from his mouth. Tony crooked his fingers until he pressed against the boy’s prostate, making Peter nearly rocket off the bed at this pleasurable surprise. “Oh, FUCK, Mister Stark!” Tony chuckled softly and pressed harder onto the sweet spot inside the younger man. “The mouth on you, baby. Maybe I should stop…” he slipped his fingers out just a little, making Peter cry out. “Don’t you dare, please, please, sir!” Peter tried to reach back and grab Tony’s wrist. Tony caught the boy with his free hand, shushing him. “Sshh, baby, I’m teasing. I’m not stopping unless you say so.” Tony pulled his fingers free, quieting Peter’s soft cry of desperation by sliding three lubed up fingers back inside. After several minutes, Peter started begging softly, “Please, please, I need more. Please sir, I can’t stand it anymore!” Tony pulled his fingers free and grabbed the condom, tearing open the package and rolling it onto himself. He lubed up his latex covered cock and got in position behind Peter. “Wait!” The boy cried out before Tony could start sliding in. The older man pulled away immediately; scared he had hurt Peter in some way. Peter rolled over onto his back, staring up into Tony’s eyes. “I wanted to…to be facing you. I-if that’s okay.” Tony bent his neck and captured the boys’ lips in a searing kiss. “More than okay, honey. You ready?” Peter nodded, grabbing Tony’s clean hand and lacing their fingers together tightly. Tony lined himself up and slowly pushed in, doing his best to hold in the animalistic sound that threatened to escape as the shear tightness and heat of the boy’s body surrounded his cock. Peter arched his back and whined. Tony took advantage of this and tucked his face into Peter’s neck, biting and sucking at the pale skin, leaving a dark bruise behind. Peter squeezed Tony’s hand tight, fighting through the slight burn as the older man’s thick cock stretched him further than he’d ever been stretched before. Tony bottomed out and pressed his forehead against Peter’s, both men panting softly. “You okay, kid? Nothing hurting?” Peter nodded and wiggled his hips, making Tony moan softly and grab the boy’s thigh tightly. “I’m good. But if you don’t move in the next 3 seconds, I might die.” Tony chuckled and thrust softly against the young man’s ass. “We certainly don’t want that.” He sat up and grasped the boy’s ankles, resting Peter’s feet on his chest. “Hold on tight, baby.” He started to thrust, slow and steady, gradually picking up speed. Peter arched his back and reached up, grabbing at the slats in the headboard, using the leverage to help press him down against Tony’s cock as the older man thrust forward. Tony reached down and wrapped his large hand around Peter’s cock, tugging it in time with their thrusts. Peter cried out and moaned at the sensations flooding his body. “I’m not gonna l-last… oh fuck, Mister Stark, I’m g-getting close!” One of Peter’s feet slipped and hooked around Tony’s shoulder. Tony changed the angle of his thrusts, now pounding hard into Peter’s prostate. The boy all but screamed as his body was overloaded with stimulation and his orgasm took over, painting the pale skin of his belly white. Tony growled at the sight, and less than a dozen erratic thrusts later he filled the condom with his release. Both men were trembling from the force of their orgasms. Tony carefully lowered Peter’s legs back down to the bed and pulled out. Peter whimpered at the sudden emptiness in his body and reached out for Tony, blindly. Tony caught his hand and kissed the inside of Peter’s wrist. “I’ll be right back, baby. Just lay still, okay?” Peter barely nodded in response, too blissed out to move. Tony got up on shaky legs and made his way to the bathroom. He disposed of the condom and grabbed a washcloth to clean himself up with quickly. Once done, he grabbed a clean washcloth and got it damp with some warm water. He found Peter in the same position he’d left him in. Tony climbed back onto the bed and started wiping Peter’s belly clean. The boy moaned softly and opened his eyes to watch Tony clean him up. Tony reached down and gently wiped the leftover lube off of Peter’s ass, making the boy hiss softly. Tony stopped immediately and looked up at Peter. “You okay? Did I hurt you?” Peter shook his head and tugged at Tony to lay down with him. “Just a little sore. I’m okay though.” Tony tossed the washcloth away in the direction of the bathroom and let himself be pulled next to the young man. “Thank you, Mister Stark. For everything.” Tony chuckled and kissed the boy gently. “I think given everything we just did, you can call me Tony now, baby boy.” Peter giggled and buried his face in Tony’s chest. Tony tugged a blanket over them both, rubbing his hand over the younger man’s back. Peter’s body tensed as a sudden thought popped up in his mind. “Tony…does this mean that we’re--I mean are you and I—or was it just a—I don’t mind, if that’s what you want—I just, umm--“ Tony hushed the boy gently, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “You really think I’m giving you up now that I’ve had you? Nuh-uh, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now, kid. You’re all mine.” Peter grinned and buried his face in Tony’s chest once more. “All yours.”

[uncultureddirt]

Waiting (Part 2/3) - Mark Lee fic

~REQUESTED~

“Why do I feel this way?”

PART ONE ||| PART THREE

Sunbelt’s was tiny and quaint. It sat on the corner of Roger and Maine street, right in the center of your town. Due to this, it was always busy, but not the irritating type of busy where lines spill into the road and adults get mad they haven’t gotten a table yet. It was the busy synonymous with “lively” - yeah, that’s better. It was lively, and it felt like everyone was always in a good mood. 

You walked in and pushed the door open, sounding the bell placed above the frame. 

“Morning Pete!”

“Hey y/n! How are you?”

“Good, good,” you looked around, “is my booth open?”

“Yep, follow me.” He picked up two menus and walked towards the back corner of the restaurant.

Pete was short, but built. He had a neatly trimmed beard to match his dark head of hair. He probably looked a lot tougher than he actually was. As Mark trailed you and Pete, listening in to your conversation, he noted the striking ink tatted up both of Pete’s arms. 

“Here you go,” he spoke while placing the menus on the table, “Let me know when you guys are ready.” He gave you both a smile and walked off.

“You must come here a lot,” Mark said, adjusting his specs.

“Yeah,” you laughed, “I love breakfast food.”

Mark smiled and picked up his menu, “Me too.”

You two began to talk, your conversation moving from one subject to the next. You noticed him relax, his sentences less choppy and his face absent of the constant blush. He was finally warming up to you. 

You liked to watch him while he spoke, noting moments when he grew nervous and quickly would divert eye contact, or times when he laughed loudly, throwing back his head and clapping. It made you chuckle; he was so amusing to you.

After a period of stomach growls and anticipation, Pete came back with two plates in his hand, setting both them down on your table. 

“Let me know if you need anything else. Any extra drinks or sides are on me,” he smiled, patting you on the head before returning to his work. 

You cut into your pancakes as Mark resumed your conversation, “So what do you think about this project?”

“Darten’s class?”

“Yeah,” he said with his mouth full of food. He wiped his lips with his hand and leaned back, waiting for your answer. 

“I don’t really know,” you rested your chin on your hand, “I don’t like Shakespeare. He’s so damn dramatic.”

Marked nodded his head. He watched you furrowing your brow as you thought. He couldn’t help but smile, and you noticed. 

“What? Is there something in my teeth?”

He laughed, “No.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing,” he said hurriedly, his cheeks filling in with color. 

~

After finishing and paying, thanking Pete and convincing him Mark was not your boyfriend, you two headed out the door. You sat on the back of your car and patted next to you for Mark to join. 

“Why do you think he was so dramatic?” 

“Pete? I don’t know he was probably kidding. I’m-”

“No,” he threw his head back again in laughter, “Shakespeare you dummy.” 

“Ohhh,” Mark kept laughing as you tried to speak and you punched his arm lightly, “Shut up, what are you, seven?”

“Sorry.”

You leaned back onto the car. Feeling the slightly warm surface touch your skin. You gazed up into the sky, squinting at the sun. Mark watched you. 

“Hm,” you paused, “I guess… actually, I’m not too sure. What do you think?”

He leaned back next to you. Your car was on the smaller side, so your shoulders touched. As you felt his skin meet yours, even the tiniest bit, your heart quickened. You wondered if he even cared. 

He did. He just hoped you couldn’t hear his pulse.

“Maybe he saw himself in Romeo.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know, like a hopeless romantic, doomed from the start. Maybe he had a Rosaline or a Juliet.”

“You think?”

“Maybe. It would make sense, I mean love does make you act all strange.”

Hearing the word ‘love’ exit his pretty mouth made your heartbeat quicken once again. And ‘you,’ what did he mean by you? Did he mean himself? Has he been in love?

Love.

A small word. A small, one syllable word. Why when he talked about it so casually did you feel such butterflies?

“I mean love does make you act all strange.”

You quickly sat up.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” he laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know what I meant.”

He sat up, locking eyes with you for only a moment before quickly diverting his gaze. You kept your eyes on his face. You wanted to know why he said that, why he said what he said with such conviction. You wanted to know what he’s felt, and what he feels. 

He interjected the moment, “I gotta go.”

“Why?”

“I just gotta. Thanks for this. Uh, I’ll see you, uh, tomorrow.” He walked away, his attention focused on the ground. When he heard you call his name, he turned around only to wave, quickly getting in his car. 

You laid back down on the car, listening as Mark’s engine revved and then pulled away. Something inside of you was hurting. You were buzzing with questions. So many ‘whys?’ and ‘whats?’ and ‘what ifs?’. The boy was a puzzle, and you just couldn’t figure him out. 

~ 

“You’re so dumb,” he said aloud, banging the wheel with his hand.

He stared at the road, replaying the conversation in his head. Some barrier within him started to fall when he was next to you. All the emotions he kept tightly wrapped up would slowly spill, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t ready to be vulnerable; he wasn’t prepared to face his own heart.

He met his own eyes in the mirror, “Did I give myself away?” he thought, looking back to the road. 

 “I mean love does make you act all strange.”

“That was so stupid of you,” he hit the wheel again, “You can’t just say that stuff.” 

The sun sat heavily in the center of the sky as Mark drove back home. It was golden. The kind of golden that makes pretty eyes prettier and instantly warms your skin. It poked a hole in the clear mid-morning scene, polarizing all the blue that surrounded it. Upon exiting his car, he squinted, using his hand covering the view above him.

 He slowly lowered his hand that was shading his eyes and tilted his face up to the sun. Closing his eyes tightly, he let the sun heat his face. His mind was churning; your face replaying in his mind and your voice echoing in his ears. Everything was hurting, yet he didn’t get why.

He opened his eyes and looked back at the pavement. “Stupid,” he mumbled as he unlocked his front door. 

~

Over the next month you two worked together silently. Your conversations were limited to strictly Shakespeare and project details. It bored you. Ever since that morning he was different; he distanced himself and grew quiet around you. It was like the shell you worked so hard to crack had rebuilt itself, but this time it was determined not to budge. 

You tried to be nice and get him to talk, but all your efforts were met with dismissal and apathy. It hurt. It burnt a hole in your heart. You felt he loathed your sole presence, yet you failed to understand why. 

As you two worked, you felt yourself staring at him, wishing you could see past his raven hair and delicate spectacles. You wished you could see into his brain and into his heart. You wanted more than anything to understand him. You wished he would let you in.

~

“I pushed back presentation dates a week,” Mr. Darten began, “So next Monday we will hear from Luke and Jamie, then Mark and y/n.” 

Your heart stopped for a second and you thrust your hand into the air, “Wait, if you pushed them back shouldn’t we be presenting next, next, next Monday?” You were praying he mixed up your presentation date. He must have. You two weren’t close to being done, let alone close to even holding a conversation. 

“Oh, did I say ‘push back’?”

You nodded.

“I meant forward. We’re starting presentations earlier. Nice catch y/ln,” he pointed at you and made his way to his desk. 

Your eyes widened. 

‘Shit.’

You began to work and Mark joined you, silently, as usual. 

“Hey,” you said coldly without looking up from your book. 

“Hey,” he kept his eyes low too, “Uh this new deadline sucks.”

“Yeah.” 

“How’s your part going?”

“Good.”

“Oh. Okay. I should be done with mine soon.”

“Nice.”

This wasn’t like you. Your answers were sharp and cut into the helpless boy like a knife. You were just tired. As plain as that. Fed up. Confusion and agitation had completely hijacked your system. You were sick of this.

He watched you working diligently. He knew you were upset, and it was clear he was the reason. His mouth was dry, and his stomach hurt. He felt like a wimp. 

‘It wasn’t even a big deal. You should’ve explained to her what happened. Why didn’t you just tell her what you meant? Why didn’t you just say, ‘hey, I like you?’’

He looked up at you as you worked, wondering if you heard his inner dialogue as loudly as he did. 

The week continued the same way: slowly and wordlessly.

To be continued...

[hangovercurse]

Live from New York

You’re hosting SNL and get close with one of the cast members

Request: “hi! can you do something about pete where the reader is hosting snl and throughout the week they’re flirting with each other but she’s unsure if they should date and he convinces her? maybe a combo of fluff/angst/smut? it can be whatever :,)”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to take that long on this one and then I ended up watching an entire documentary on the making of an SNL episode because I wanted to be as accurate as possible… someone stop me pls

Word Count: 2834

Monday

Despite being a swiftly rising actress, you hated being the enter of attention. You’d always gotten anxious as a kid when a teacher made you stand in front of the class for presentations or during first-day introductions. So being front and center in a room of 30 people who were all there to study and try to impress you was not something you found pleasant.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke timidly to the crowded room, people clapping from their spots on the floor or various couches around the room, “it’s great to be here.”

Lorne cleared his throat, “alright, let’s start with you, Anna.”

You looked around the room as a young woman pitched the first sketch of the night, listening intently to her ideas while trying to match faces with the names Lorne had given you earlier. Then your eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones, the man wearing a soft smile on his face. He radiated gentle energy despite the tattoos you could see running down his arms.

The pitches continued with an air of lightheartedness and fun. You found nearly everything funny, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to cut any of the sketch pitches.

After a lull in ideas, Lorne announced that cast members could now pitch ideas for Weekend Update character appearances. The man you’d taken an interest in earlier, who you’d since learned was named Pete Davidson, pitched a new set of characters for you and him.

“You know those weird stoner kids in high school who were always hanging out in the parking lot and acted really weird and mysterious? Those characters who just give really vague answers to anything you ask and act like they’ve seen some shit when they have the most normal home lives.”

You giggled, knowing the exact kinds of kids he was talking about. Colin and Michael also chuckled, writing the idea down with some notes of their own. Soon after that, everyone went back to pitching regular sketches, Jost and Che pitching an unusual number of sketches featuring you and Pete.

After a few long hours, the session wrapped; everyone leaving the office space except for you and Lorne, “so, what did you think?”

You chuckled lightly, “you have some seriously talented people on this show, Mr. Michaels. I don’t understand how you guys write an entire show every week.”

“We all work very hard; I’ll tell you that. Now, talk to me. Anything you really liked or really hated?”

You shrugged, “you’re the comedy mastermind, I know nothing. But I thought that weird kids from high school bit was pretty funny.”

Lorne nodded, “So did Jost and Che it seems. Sometimes the kid has a good idea.” You giggled at his reference to Pete as “the kid.” He sighed, “anything else? I noticed you liked that proposal sketch.”

“Yeah, that one was super funny. I will say, I wasn’t too in love with the dad-teacher one, but I would have no problem with it being done with someone else as the daughter.”

Lorne and you spent the rest of the workday discussing the different sketch ideas that came up and gauging what type of comedy suited you best. Before you left, he introduced you to Donna, your dresser who would be helping you out throughout the week.

Tuesday

After a quick tour of the studio by Donna, you were given a list of cast members and writers who wanted to meet with you to get ideas about sketches. You first stepped into a small room with a desk and futon, Donna introducing you to Chloe Fineman and Celeste Yim.

Chloe smiled brightly at you, “okay, so we were thinking that we could do something where I bring you to a sleepover with some friends that you don’t know. But at some point, you try to go to sleep because you have a soccer tournament in the morning but everyone else is being loud and it turns into this big overdramatic argument.”

You giggled softly, “I love that!”

After writing with them for a while, you were whisked away to room after room, finally landing in Colin Jost and Michael Che’s office, where they were hunched over a computer with Pete.

Colin smiled at you, “hey Y/N, how’s your day been?”

“Busy, how are you guys?”

The men responded with variations of “good,” before Michael spoke, “I know it’s late, so don’t feel obligated to stay longer than you’re comfortable with.”

You shrugged, “what time is it? It doesn’t feel that late.”

Pete laughed, teasing Colin and Michael, “c’mon guys, don’t you know that the young people of New York don’t sleep?”

You giggled in agreement as Colin frowned, “I’m only 38, that’s not that old.”

“I’m only 26, Colin,” you said, laughing at the men.

Michael patted Colin on the shoulder, “Jost, we’re getting old.”

Colin frowned before clearing his throat, “anyways, we had a couple ideas for some sketches with you and Pete, if you’re up for it, and we wanted to hash out your weekend update appearance.”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah, that sounds great.”

The rest of the night (and into the early morning) was spent with the three men, eventually joined by Heidi Gardner and Kyle Mooney to work them into the scripts. A majority of the writing process was simply messing around with various sketch situations until someone found a joke that worked best.

Pete watched you carefully the entire night, doing everything in his power to make you laugh. You had no complaints, doing your best to not openly flirt with him in front of the rest of the cast (and failing quite miserably).

Wednesday

Wednesday was the designated day for the roundtable readthrough. You took a place between Pete and Lorne, who began the reading, “we’ve got 41 sketches so let’s get started.”

The table read was just like any other you’d been through; Lorne wasting no time between sketches to discuss or joke. You struggled with containing your laughter throughout the reading, trying to act professionally. It didn’t help that Pete was making jokes any chance he got, eliciting even more giggles from you.

The three hours seemed to take no time at all as sketch after sketch was read out loud. Every so often you would catch Lorne looking at you with an eyebrow raised, usually after you read one of the sketches with Pete.

After everyone was dismissed, you were led to Lorne’s office with the head writers and producers. There was a large wall covered in sticky notes with each sketch’s name written on one. Lorne turned to you, “what do you think?”

You scanned the wall, listing off some of the sketches that you really liked, though most of them were  great, so you had trouble narrowing them down.

Lorne let out a small laugh, “you guys noticed how she picked out the sketches with Pete in them, too, right?”

Your face went hot, immediately turning to face the ground. Colin and Michael chuckled, “we noticed,” the latter commented.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Y/N, just wanted to point it out to you.” Lorne teased before turning back to the wall and thinking.

You giggled, “you guys suck.”

As embarrassed as you were, your anxiety was surprisingly low. You had been worried about hosting since you got the invite, but the cast and crew had been nothing but kind to you. Even just being able to make jokes like this with the writers made you feel oddly comforted.

You worked on narrowing down which sketches to keep for rehearsals and which ones were going to get cut immediately, a job that was very easy for Lorne but very difficult for you.

Eventually you got it down to enough sketches that Lorne was satisfied and he sent out the list to the cast. He led you out of his office, “you know, you have a real affinity for comedy,” he told you. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about sketch comedy, but from that read through you seem to know what you’re doing.”

You blushed slightly, thanking him, “we’ll see if you’re still saying that on Saturday.”

He chuckled, “have a good night.” You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, running into none other than Pete Davidson.

“Hey, you headed out?”

You smiled, “yeah, just got out of my meeting with Lorne. Did you get a chance to look at the revised sketch schedule?”

Pete nodded, walking with you to the door of the theater, “yeah, I noticed you kept a lot of our sketches in there,” he bumped your shoulder, a playful smirk on his face.

A giggle rolled from your lips, “what can I say? We’re funny together.”

He raised an eyebrow, watching as you flagged down your taxi, “whatever you say.”

“Are you complaining about having to work with me?” You asked, opening the door.

He chuckled, “oh yeah. I am just dreading tomorrow.” Sarcasm laced his words, making you laugh.

“Goodnight, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Thursday

Donna ushered you around all day, making sure you were in the rehearsal space when you needed to be and supporting you from the side. This part of the process came naturally to you, as it was the most similar to rehearsing and filming on movie sets.

When you weren’t rehearsing a scene, you were hanging out with Pete. It was strange how easily you got along, your humors aligning almost perfectly. Not to mention he was a huge flirt and was making it more and more obvious with you. You flirted right back, earning looks of amusement from Lorne throughout the day.

The day was a whirlwind, and by the time you were able to go home, you were exhausted. Pete walked you out to the street again, talking about one of the sketches that went wrong earlier until your taxi pulled up. This time he opened the door for you and helped you inside, “see you tomorrow.”

You smiled up at him, “bright and early.”

Friday

After hours of rehearsing, you plopped onto the couch in Pete’s dressing room, where you had found yourself a home over the past few days, “I don’t know how you guys do this every week. I’ve been here for four days and I’m exhausted.”

Pete chuckled, “to be fair, you’re the host. The key is to try and only get one sketch into the show so that you don’t have to do anything during the week.”

You laughed, letting a comfortable silence fall over you. Pete studied you, taking in your tired appearance, “you’re doing great though, being a host. I’ve seen some people come in and try to take control of everything and then no one has fun. You’re really good at just letting the comedy speak for itself. Not many people do that.”

Shrugging, you responded, “I mean, I’m not a comedian, I’m just an actor. You guys come up with everything. I don’t know enough to try and control things around here, I just do what I can to make your visions come to life. I figured that’s what a host should do.”

Pete nodded, “yeah, but again, a lot of people want their SNL episode to look a certain way. You don’t seem to care.”

“I just want to have fun, honestly.”

He smirked, “are you?”

You looked up to him with a smile on your face, “definitely.”

Suddenly the speaker in the room rang out, “Y/N and Pete to main stage 1.”

Groaning, you lifted yourself from the couch, Pete watching you with amusement, “c’mon Ms. Host, we’ve got a show to rehearse.”

Saturday

The day was hectic; filled with rehearsal after rehearsal. Lorne and Donna made sure that you were comfortable all day, but you could feel the stress radiating from every inch of the studio.

Stronger than that, though, was the sense of excitement buzzing around everyone. You were fit into more costumes than you could count, all leading up to the final dress rehearsal of the night in front of the live studio audience.

Dress ran smoothly, but you could see Lorne cutting lines from sketches from stage out of the corner of your eye. Luckily, Pete distracted you from all the anxious energy. “I know Lorne looks like a psychopath, but that’s just what he does. Everything’s fine, don’t stress about it,” he said over dinner.

You chuckled, “thanks. I feel so out of my league this week.”

“I told you, you’re great. Everyone here loves you. I heard Lorne talking about wanting you back as soon as possible.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “yeah right, I’m never gonna do anything big enough to get me on this show again.”

Pete laughed, “you could always make guest appearances with me on the Weekend Update.”

“You aren’t sick of me already?” you joked.

After dinner you were paraded around by Donna, who got you into your style for opening monologue. She smiled at you through your dressing room mirror, “how are you feeling?”

You gave her a nervous smile, “terrified, but ready.”

The lady chuckled, “you’ll do great. I’ll be right offstage if you need anything.”

“Thank you, for everything this week.”

She squeezed your shoulders, “don’t mention it, though if you really want to thank me, go ask that Davidson boy out on a date.”

Your eyes went wide, “Donna!”

A chuckle rang out through the room, “what? I say it for your own good.”

She led you through a maze of hallways and tunnels until you were in place to walk onstage, the speaker announcing your name to the audience followed by cheers.

Exactly 90 minutes later you were gathered with the cast on stage, “thank you to Fletcher, Lorne Michaels, this amazing cast and crew, and thank you all for watching. Goodnight everybody!”

You turned to Pete, who was standing beside you and let him pull you in for a hug, “you did it!” he cheered.

You passed around the cast, giving hugs to as many people as you can before Lorne announced, “that’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N and Fletcher!”

Everyone cheered, clapping for you and your musical guest before heading to their dressing rooms to change into their night clothes. You went back to your own dressing room, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, “come in!”

Pete entered the room, a wide smile on his face, “congrats!” You let him pull you in for another hug, “so I know that there’s supposed to be this big party after the show, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner instead?”

Your breath got caught in your throat, those words being the last thing you expected to hear from him. Of course, you wanted to say yes because you did, truthfully, really like him. But part of you was hesitant.

You’d dated your fair share of celebrities, and things always ended very publicly and typically poorly. On top of that, you couldn’t help but feel that this might be happening a bit too quick. You started to doubt that he would still have feelings for you in a week since he wouldn’t be around you nearly all the time.

And then there was the issue of your insane work schedules. Having just lived through his, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep a relationship like that.

“Pete, I think you’re amazing and I really like you, I just-“

Pete nodded his head, cutting you off, “I know we only met like a couple of das ago, but people go on dates with literal strangers all the time.”

You sighed, “it’s not that, Pete, it’s just that…” you paused, searching for words, “things like this tend to be very public with me, and I really don’t want to have a relationship where there’s all this pressure by the media to be perfect.”

He shrugged, “I get that, but it’s just dinner. And we can go somewhere quiet and private, no one has to know. And if things go further then we’ll just keep it on the down low until you’re ready. Trust me, I know what a public relationship is like, I’m not a huge fan either.”

“Yeah, but what about your work schedule. I mean, I’ve only lived in your world for six days and I want to sleep for a month. How do you even hold a relationship on this schedule?”

Pete moved closer to you, fingers grazing your arm, “we can make it work. I promise. Just give me one date, and if it’s not the best first date of your life, you have no further obligations to me.”

You giggled lightly, leaning into his touch, “I’m only saying yes because you’re kinda cute.”

He smiled down at you, eyes twinkling, I’ll take it.”

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

New Beginnings (Part 7)

*Not My Gif*

Post date: 12-16-19

Paring: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 3K

~New Beginnings~

~Master~

~Series Master~

The flight to Europe was nerve racking to say the least. You tried to busy yourself with anything you could as Peter made his new suit, helping pick out features and advancements until Happy come out.

“Ok, Fury’s got the coded message.” Happy told you as you spun around to face him.

“Think he understood?” You asked the men as Peter, put his hand on you to comfort you. “Well, I guess if he didn’t we’re screwed so…”

“Hey.” Peter whispered as he rubbed your back, making you take a deep breath. “It’ll work.” He assured you, your smile brightened as you ducked your head.

“Your friends are at the tower bridge.” Happy said as he showed you the phone and Flash’s vlog. “We’re close.” You nodded your head, hoping that this all would work out in your favor. “How’s the suit coming?”

“Almost done.” Happy asked Peter to run through what he was going to do. “I know his illusion tech. If I take it down then he’s just a man and I can take EDITH back.”

“Yeah.” You interrupted him, “But last time you got hit by a train.” Happy agreed with you as Peter nodded.

“True, but I have this sort of sixth sense.”

“Your Peter-Tingle.” You sputtered out a laugh, quickly bringing your hand up to hide the smile spread across your face. Peter glared at you, his eyes wide as you buried your face against his arm.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! It’s just, Peter-Tingle.” You laughed once again as Happy chuckled, Peter finding everything not amusing .

“Can we get back to the bad guy wanting to kill our friends!” His voice cracked as he raised it, making you turn your smile into a forced frown and standing up straighter.

“Right, I’m sorry, continue.”

Peter eyed you one more time before Happy spoke up. “But isn’t your Peter Tingle not working?” You tried hard to keep your laughs in you as Happy kept repeating Peter Tingle before leaving you both in the workspace. Peter saw your expression, the way your mouth was a very clear forced U and your eyes narrowing.

“Ok, let it out.” Peter beckoned as you let out your laugh, even making the boy laugh with you a little. “Are you done.” You nodded as you pulled Peter over to his suit, watching as it placed the spider in the chest. “It looks good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” You turned around to face him, as your body pressed into his, not at all expecting to be that closer. It was almost as if you were frozen, yet you had complete control of your body and didn’t try to move. Not that Peter did either. You stared into his brown eyes, his breathing low and controlled as his hand found its way to your hip.

“Y/N.” His voice was quiet, and your heart sounded in your ears, barely drowning out his words. “Be careful.” He told you as you sucked in a breath and bit your lip.

“Me be careful?” You grabbed his other hand, threading your fingers together. “Pete, I’m not the one who’s fighting a mad man who wants to kill half of London. I need you to be careful. I can’t lose you and swear to god, if you die, I’ll kill you.” Peter chuckled, his eyes closing momentarily as you drank in his smile and laugh, praying to anyone that it wouldn’t be the last time you got to hear it. Peter’s eyes opened and like you, he relished the gentle look on your face and your mouth. But in the closeness of your bodies, Peter’s eyes focused more on your lips and you did the same. Your breath stopped, extending out the seconds you both leaned into each other, eyes closing and just a few more inches.

“London Bridge’s just ahead!” Happy shouted from the cockpit as Peter jumped away, your breath slapping you as it came back, making you cough in the awkwardness as you turned to the suit with wide eyes. Peter turned to look at you, seeing the way your head drooped and your chest was rising and falling faster than normal. He reached a hand towards you but let it fall to his side before reaching you, shaking his head.

“I’ll let you get changed.” You muttered as you pushed past him, avoiding looking in his face as he watched you join Happy.

He grabbed his hair, pulling it slightly as he covered his face. He could believe he possibly just messed everything up in a matter of 5 seconds. He sighed, resting his head in his hands for a few seconds before trying to shake off those remaining feelings as he put on the suit.

You were quiet as you sat down next to Happy, staring out into the sky. Happy saw you out of the corner of his eye. The stoic expression on your face scared him as he fully looked over. “You okay?” he asked as you hummed a yes but didn’t say any more and happy that Happy didn’t push it more.

Peter crawled along on the outside of the plane as you approached the London bridge and the big almost tornado looking thing above it worried you. You pushed yourself off the chair and came closer to the window, peering out of it with worry as Happy and Peter talked.

“Peter are you sure that’s not real?” Happy asked as Peter clung to the plane, looking at the creature.

“Yeah, but it’s a hundred times bigger than we expected.” You said as you fell back into your seat with a heavy sigh. There was no way this could end the way you wanted. “You need to get higher Happy.”

“Y/N’s right! You need to get higher so Beck can’t see me coming!” Peter shouted as you turned to see him. All the worries bubbling in you expressed clearly on your face and all Peter wanted to do was calm your fears, but right now he couldn’t.

“Stay sticky.” Happy told Peter as he pulled the plane up into the air more above the elemental.

“Hey Happy!” Peter yelled towards the man. “When this is over, we need to have a serious conversation about you and my aunt!” Peter flew off the plane, dropping right into the eye of the storm as you watched, grabbing onto your seat to keep you in place.

Happy and you tried to find your friends but Flash’s vlog wasn’t helping much. It was only when the elemental started to break apart and reveal the drones were you able to figure out where they were. You showed the phone to Happy as he smirked.

“Gotcha.” He landed the plane, both of rushing off and out into the streets of London. The moment you saw MJ, you ran into her, both of you wrapping your arms around each other in relief.

“Thank god!” you mumbled into her shoulder before turning to Ned and hugging him.

“Where’s Peter?” He asked, looking around for any glimpse of Peter’s spider suit. All it took was for one look at the elemental for Ned to understand.

“You all need to get on the Jet!” Happy reminded you as you nodded, grabbing your friends before MJ stopped in her tracks.

“Who are you?” She asked, squinting her eyes. You told them he was Happy Hogan and he worked with Spider-Man before Flash’s eyes lit up.

“You work for Spider-Man?!” He screamed as you held back a laugh.

Happy glared at the boy before yelling at him. “I work WITH Spider-Man, not for! And you need to get on the jet!” He repeated himself. You groaned and tried once again to pull them along before a pair of missiles hit the jet and all of a sudden it was gone. You and Happy shared a look before turning to your friends. “Ok, new plan.”

“Y/N! Are you okay?!” Peter spoke over the com you forgot you had in as you sighed, running to the tower right next to MJ.

“Yeah Pete, we’re fine.” You huffed out as you dodged the several people running past you, men and women clutching children or pulling them along and it only fueled you. “Just go get Beck. And be careful!”

“You too!” He shouted back to you. You led the group of your friends through the streets before ending up at the Crown Jewel’s Vault and telling everyone to get in. You were almost there before a drone shot right by your head, making you scream as you clutched MJ’s arm. Both of you frantically ran, holding onto each other as everyone cried out, trying not to get struck by the drone’s fire.

“Take Cover!” You dove to the side at Happy’s word, a suit of armor falling on your wrist as pain shot through your arm. MJ saw you try not to scream as she pushed the thing off you right as the shooting died down. Your backs immediately went against the wall, looking over to see Betty and Ned to you before turning to MJ. Her eyes were wide as she tried to steady her breathing and one slight look past her gave you an idea. You reached for the mace, trying to keep as quiet as possible as you heard a drone slowly make its why down the center of the room. Happy, Flash, and MJ all tried to get you stop but you ignored them, grabbing the weapon and almost letting it clatter on the ground from the weight, but you stopped just in time. The four of you sighed in relief, still very much on edge as you turned around. Betty waved at you, holding a spear in her hand as you smiled and nodded. Ned held her shoulders as she pushed the closest suit of armor over. The drone thought it was a person, shooting at the armor as you swung the mace at it, knocking it over on the first try. You groaned from the strain on your wrist, which definitely was sprained as you dropped the metal weapon on the ground, holding your wrist to your chest. MJ picked up the mace as you all ran into the Vault and Happy tried to get you just a few more seconds as he threw a shield he grabbed at the other drone. Only it fell several feet short.

“How does Cap do that?” He asked rhetorically as he pulled himself into the vault, the doors shutting behind him. Peter was talking to all again, asking if you all were alive as Happy told him you were, and that he bought some extra time. The moment he said those words, the drone fired at the door, it’s laser going right through as you held your wrist tighter in fear.

“Happy what do we do?!” you asked the man when Peter was busy with Beck, leaving the 6 of you to figure out how to save yourself as he saved the world.

“I don’t want to die!” Ned yelled out and You promised Ned he wouldn’t as the room shook. “I’ve wasted most of my life playing video games and we’re gonna die!”

The room shook again.

“I have a fake ID!” Betty admitted. “And I never even used it.

The door banged over and over, everyone screaming their secrets into the room.

“I post stupid video’s daily for people to like.” Happy rebutted Flash’s secret, telling him if it wasn’t for his video’s Spider-Man would’ve never found him. You admired Happy’s ability to make everything better in any situation. Here he was, all of you literally being shot at and Happy was telling Flash he saved them all. “Spider-Man follows me? I-I saved us guys!”

“If you saved us, then why are we going to die?!” MJ cried out as everyone yelled at her, including you as she became more distraught. “I’m Sorry! I’m obsessed with telling the truth even though it hurts other people’s feelings!”

“I’m in love with Spider-Man’s Aunt.” Happy said with one of the calmest faces you’ve ever seen before. “What? We’re sharing secrets, right?”

Your jaw shook as you heard what Happy had admitted and turned to MJ, your eyes wide before you closed them. “I’m in love with Peter Parker!” Everyone turned to you but you just turned to stare straight ahead, your breathing echoing in your ears as the drone kept shooting. The drone busted through the door and all you could think about was Peter. You didn’t want to die without telling him. You held onto your friends, pushing them behind you without thinking as MJ and Ned grabbed your arms. You were ready for the hit, mentally and physically preparing yourself but nothing. The drones stopped.

You didn’t know what to do, but no one moved. You all were too afraid that it would go off and you’d be dead like that. You stared it down, waiting for something to happen before the drones aimed at you left. Happy reached out to take the spear, or as Ned corrected him, the Halberd from Betty. The doors to the vault were pushed open as you stepped out, checking everything was fine before turning to MJ. Your eyes were watery as she nodded and you took off, ignoring Happy shouting at you as you dashed towards the bridge.

You didn’t stop running until you saw Peter. Your tears finally falling from your eyes at the sight of him. The moment Peter had saw you he choked out a sob, his limping becoming worse as he sped up, almost running to you. You threw your arms around his neck, practically crying into his shoulder as he did the same to you. “Are you okay?” you whispered as he tightened his hold, nodding into your shoulder.

“I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I think my wrist is sprained, but I’m fine Pete.” You nodded and Peter relaxed at your touch.

“Is everyone else okay?” You nodded again, refusing to let go of him. “What happened?”

“My dad’s drones, they were just following after us and t-then they just stopped. That was you. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And Beck? Is he-“ You finally let go off Peter, seeing the red rimmed eyes as he looked at you. It was almost too much for you to see as he said yes and you cupped his cheek. “Thank you for not dying Peter. I don’t think I could’ve handled that.”

Peter smiled, the cut on his lip stretching but he didn’t care as he saw you in front of him, safe. “Y/N, I have to tell you something.” You didn’t know what he was going to say but you needed to do something for you. You couldn’t get what you said in the tower out of your head so without much thought, you brought your lips up to Peter’s pressing the quickest kiss you could to them. But the second you pulled away all you wanted was more. “And you kissed me.”

“Look, Peter I don’t know what you were going to say but I need to say something first. I’ve been in love with you for I don’t even know how long. Everything you do just makes me smile and the thought of losing you today, the only time I’ve been more scared was seeing my dad die.” You felt a tear move down your cheek, but you didn’t even try to hide it as Peter’s eyes were wide, locked on your face. “I just- I needed you to know and even though I know I’ll only be your best friend and that you like MJ-“

Peter’s fingers cut your speech as he wiped your tears, bringing you back into a deeper kiss. It was everything you could’ve asked for in a kiss, but really the one thing that made it perfect was that it Peter kissing you. And he started it.

The feeling of his lips lingered on yours as he pulled away, your eyes staying closed, way past embarrassing as Peter held your hands, being mindful of your wrist. “I think... I think I was convincing myself that I liked MJ because I convinced myself you were just my best friend. And for some stupid reason, I believed myself.” You let your eyes finally open, meeting his chocolate ones as you held your breath. “I love you, too.”

His words were practically whispers, but you heard them none the less. “You do?” He nodded and you smiled brighter than you ever had before. He pulled you in for another kiss, lasting much longer than the first two and the moment it was over, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your ear against his chest and hearing his racing heartbeat.

Peter never thought this would’ve happen. Ever. And he wasn’t going to pass it up. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I should go make sure everyone’s alright.” You told Peter, trying to hide the smile on your face as you pulled away from him.

“Yeah, I should uh-“ He pointed behind him, stuttering on his words as you giggled. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” You bit your bottom lip, not at all waiting to leave but knowing you needed to make sure everyone’s okay. “See you in little while?” Peter grinned, nodding his head before you both went your separate ways, taking one last look back until you couldn’t see each other anymore but your giddiness never left.

There’s still more to come! Please Like, Comment and Reblogging and tell me what you think of this part!

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[neverlandparker]

Far From Home, Far From You // [p.p] FFH SPOILERS***

Pairing: stark!reader x peter parker (i don’t specify if she’s related to Tony by blood so it’s completely up to you if you want her/you to be directly related or adopted!)

Word Count: 3.6 k

Warnings: contains ***FFH SPOILERS!*** angst, a few swear words, and mentions of death. (but as always, there’s the fluffy parts too don’t worry, I’m not that mean haha) 

A/N: hey everyone! :) i’m back!! so I watched ffh twice and I loved it even moreeee the second time and I thought I just had to write something based off it. So here is my baby - it was a labor of love - (quoting tom here) i’m so proud of this fic & I hope you love it too! please please please rb and let me know your thoughts whether in the hashtags, comments, or send me an ask! as always, I appreciate every single one of you! thank you from the bottom of my heart!

ps credits!!! I used some of the quotes from the original script of ffh and made references to the book, “The Kissing Hand”. All credits go to ffh script writers and marvel studios & the author of “The Kissing Hand,” Audrey Penn!

- xoxo, Claire ❤

Summary: y/n and peter have been through a hell of a year together - wars, battles, and death - they’ve encountered it all. so when y/n suggests peter should go on that school trip to Europe with his classmates and it doesn’t go as planned, what happens next? also ft cuddly peter and the kissing hand!

...

Rain pattered softly against your bedroom window as you spent the dreary afternoon curled up against Peter’s body which was radiating warmth, cuddled together with a giant blanket on your bed - his arm thrown across your body, pulling you closer to his chest as you listened to the rapid but steady thump thump thump of his heartbeat. His legs were tangled up with yours and he was tracing patterns on your shoulder with one hand - his other was joined with yours in your connected hands - one of the many ways in which he displayed his endless amount of affection for you.

“I really do miss him” you murmured softly to yourself, sighing, looking out of the compound window, as you watched a countless number of rain droplets hit the window and slide downwards, the pitter-patter sound it made somewhat comforting. 

And when Peter stirred, you were slightly startled. You had thought he had dozed off.

He groggily cracked one eye open, and after covering his yawn and rubbing his sleepy-dazed eyes, he looked at you with so much adoration you thought your heart would burst.

“I do too. I miss him too - so much.” more than you know.

“What if - “ he stopped chewing on his lip suddenly nervous, his gaze traveled down to his shirt, fingers finding the hem of it and twirling it around. 

“What if -” but he stopped just as quickly as he had started. 

“What if - what if something goes wrong...w-when I’m not here?” his voice trembled, insecurities getting the better of him, and he sighed, “I’m leaving, Y/N. I’m leaving for Europe in 2 days. I’m leaving - you...god - why did I think this was a good idea?” he buried his head in his hands, and after a few moments, he looked back up, “I-I just don’t think I want to save the world this summer. I know that makes me sound like such a jerk. But I really -” his voice cracked, “I just really need a break. I mean - with everything we’ve all been through, I kinda just wanted to get away. Just away, anywhere, any place, and I guess at that time, Europe seemed to be a good idea. But -” he took a deep breath, “But - but now things are….different. What if something goes wrong or someone gets hurt when I’m not here? What about you - ” he was about to keep rambling on, stuttering, reverting back to his old nervous habits, but you quickly sat up and rubbed your hands comfortingly across his shoulders. 

“Pete. Peter. Look at me. You’re not a jerk for wanting a normal life. I mean - heck - my dad -” a sad smile broke out across your features, “he - he - warned me about this - about the Avenging lifestyle -” you gave a soft chuckle, “Nothing is going to go wrong here, okay? We’ve got it under control. And in the rare case we don’t, we always have backup. It’ll be alright - I promise. With everything that has happened - “ you paused and sighed running your hands through your hair, “I think you deserve a break - you really do. Go have fun in Europe with your friends. It’ll be fun. You’ll be far from home and far from….me...and I’ll miss you - a lot. But you know…..I think….I think it’ll be good - for you.”

He gave you a little nod, head still hung low.

You brought your hands to cup his chin, bringing him to look at you.

“Hey hey hey - Peter - Pete, please don’t worry about me, ’kay? I’ll be alright. I’m always here if you need me. Just one call away.” You pointed to your phone, and paused for a second and then swallowed to continue, “Uh - I want to share this with you - uh,” your voice started wavering again, and you swallowed, “this is something my d-dad - Tony - and I used to do before he went out on his missions.”

...

“Daddy!!!!!!!”

You charged towards him, still half-asleep, morning bed head intact, dragging your blanket behind you, as you made your way down the stairs, two at a time and ran towards where you saw him by the door. 

“Y/N! Sweetheart! What are you doing up?”

He turned around and immediately bent down to wrap you - his adorable five year old daughter - in a giant hug.

Then he heard it. 

He heard your sniffling. 

“Hon - you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Are - a-are you l-leaving?” you managed to get out between sniffles. 

You had hoped he was only busy around the house in the morning but when you saw him by the door, you had panicked and bolted down the stairs to him. 

He sighed. 

Anthony “Tony” Edward Stark liked being Iron Man. He really did. It made him feel powerful, unstoppable, and able to defend himself and the people he loved. It was like his own way of righting his past sins and faults. 

But the part he hated?

He hated leaving you. 

His sweetest little girl - he loved you so much and it killed him to leave your side - even if it was only for a day. 

So knowing some lines from the book - The Kissing Hand - that he had just read to you by your bedside last night, he sighed.

“Y/N sweets, I’m - I’m really sorry but daddy’s going to be leaving for a while...but I’ll come back sooner than you know it - okay? Always. Time is going to go by so fast, you’ll never even notice I’m gone.” 

You let out a little laugh between your sniffles and he smiled a bit. 

He took your little hand in his and turned the palm side up and placed a gentle kiss in the center. 

“Daddy is going to teach you a trick to help remember me okay? Just do this when I’m not around and you’ll feel me be with you okay? I’m always with you even when I’m far away. Always with you... right….here.” he poked your chest and you giggled.

“Hey! I’m ticklish!”

“Whenever you feel alone, anxious, hurt, or far from home, just press your hand to your cheek and think of me. Sometimes and someday, you’ll be far from me, and when that day comes sweets, you will remember me, okay?”

You pressed your hand to your cheek and closed your eyes. 

“I love you 3000 daddy”

“I love you more munchkin.”

…

“So Peter...whenever you feel alone, anxious, hurt, far from home, just press your hand to your cheek and think of me. And when you’ll be far from me, when that day comes, you’ll remember me.”

You kissed the palm of Peter’s hand and brought it up to his cheek. He leaned into your touch as he sighed, bringing his hand up to cheek, putting it on top of yours. 

He loved the feeling of your hand in his. 

He smiled, and tilted his head to place a quick peck on your hand that was cupping his around his cheek as you giggled. 

“Now you’ll have something to remember me by too.” he smiled. 

“Always.” you said softly as you brought your hand - still warm from Peter’s touch - to your cheek, letting your eyes drift shut, as you felt an uncontrollable smile tug at your lips.  

...

Peter limped towards the descending jet in the tulip fields, the force of the powerful engine jets sending colorful petals of flowers flying wildly about in all directions. Normally, he would have taken this moment to admire the way the flowers swayed and billowed against the wind, taking note that it was a lovely sight that he would want to someday share with you - his pretty girl.

He shook his head, blinking back tears that threatened to spill. 

How could he have trusted him?

How could he have been this stupid?

And when the door of the private jet flew open and he saw Happy’s concerned face as he met his gaze. He felt his whole being tense up. His first instinct was to run toward him - so fucking glad there was someone who he really knew. Who he trusted.

But to trust his senses? 

Honestly he didn’t know if he could even trust himself right now.

Not anymore.

Looking at the man who so much reminded him of his mentor, he felt suffocated, heartbeat pumping all to fast, senses dialed to eleven, every single hair on his body stood on end. And worst of all, he felt like there was a hand around his heart, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until it became near impossible to bear anymore.

His regrets weighed down upon him and by the time he realized that happy was calling out to him across the field, he shook his head to clear the feeling and made his way over but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. 

You. 

You came.

And Peter - god - Peter wanted nothing more than to run into your arms. To be able to feel your comfort again, to embrace you in a big hug, to press kisses to your forehead and nose, and be able to tell you that was everything was alright, but how could he when he had messed up so so bad? 

Especially not before…not before making 110% sure it wasn’t another trap - wasn’t another one of Mysterio's sinister plans. 

He couldn’t bear to see you hurt or taken from him. It was his worst fear.  

Were you real? 

Was this real? 

What was real?

He didn’t think he knew what real was anymore. 

Not after that.

Not after what Mysterio had shown him what he had. The illusion he had been so naive to so easily fall into would continue to haunt the rest of life, an unforgettable memory in the worst possibly imagined way. He had been shown being attacked by clones of himself, being trapped inside a snowglobe with no way to escape, and ….. god - Tony - Tony Stark, crawling out of his grave, with iron suit and all, and Mysterio told him that if only he had been good enough, Tony would still be here.

He would still be here... if only he had been good enough. 

Those same words rang in his head again, taunting him, as he screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head from side to side, desperately willing, begging, pleading it to go away. 

Upon making eye contact with Peter as you scanned the field, you felt relieved, but choked up when you saw the condition he was in. Covered in dirt, grime and blood, his face was severely battered, nose and jawline littered with bruises, cuts, and open wounds. You clasped a hand over your mouth, stifling a sob as you pushed past Happy and ran full force towards him. 

However, when you reached just within arms reach, just as you were about to engulf him in a tight hug, his eyes widened and he took several large retreating steps back, eyes darting between you and Happy as if he didn’t recognize you more than mere strangers. You felt a dagger of pain straight to your heart as you realized the shaken and vulnerable state he was in. 

What the hell did this guy do to him?

“Please -” Peter pleads, “Prove to me you’re real. Tell me something only you would know.”

You and Happy share a look, both knowing things you don’t want the other to know but you currently didn’t have much of a choice. You decide to go first. 

“Remember the kissing hand?” you say in a gentle tone and you can see Peter’s expression relax and soften as he met your gaze. 

Whenever you feel alone, anxious, hurt, or far from home, just press your hand to your cheek and think of me. And when you’ll be far from me, when that day comes, you will remember me.

You’re real. You’re real. You’re REAL.

“Remember when we went to Germany? You paid per view a video in your room. They didn’t list the titles but I could tell by the price it was an adult film at the front desk. And you know how I knew –”

“Okay okay fine! It’s you, it’s you, stop!” Peter yells as you stare between Happy and Peter, confused. 

“You’re real!” he lets out in an exhausted sigh and hurriedly limps over. 

And he finally lets himself fall into you, fall into your embrace, let himself be surrounded by the comforting scent of your shampoo.

His eyes turn teary as he flexes his arms, bringing you even closer, both arms wrapped securely around you so tightly. 

You were aware of his super strength had the ability to do some serious damage but he was always the most utmost gentle with you, treating you with so much care you thought you would sometimes just melt in his hands. 

But right now, he needed to. make. sure. To make sure. To make sure the an illusion could not possibly recreate you. Recreate this. He needed to know that you were real. And that you were. 

You’re real. Not fake. No illusions. Real. Real. REAL. 

No depth of any illusion could make you - well, you. Truly you. 

He had realized it was so different being not only so far from home, but so far from you. You were his home and nothing - nothing - could ever recreate that. 

With that, as if realizing that his grip was almost suffocating, he quickly loosened his grip, mumbling a “so sorry,” not quite letting go, but not as tight as he had been squeezing you in the crushing hug as he had before. 

…

Once Peter got on the jet, he almost sagged with relief. You and Happy immediately got to work, tracking coordinates - anything, to locate Mysterio as well as sitting Peter down and cleaning up his wounds. He sucked in a sharp breath as you unzipped his suit, only then truly realizing the extent of his injuries. He was thankful for your gentle touch as you successfully managed to bandage up his ribs and tended to his wounds with a few grunts and low curses as he mentioned he was hit by a train. It made your heart shatter, seeing him in this broken state, so battered and crestfallen. Happy took over with stitching Peter’s several back injuries up as you came to sit in front of him, silently observing him, heart aching at the sight. 

He always tries to do the right thing and that’s what mattered...why did it always have to be him?

He gives so much and gets back so little. He is too good for this world. In fact, he deserves the world. Heck, the world doesn’t even deserve him. 

You snapped out of your thoughts, hearing Peter’s distressed grunts as you looked up seeing that Happy was still in the process of stitching him up. 

“Just relax.” Happy says, his brows pinched, trying to concentrate on the stitches.

“Don’t tell me to relax!” Peter snaps, reaching his breaking point, his voice filled with angst before he stood up, “How can I relax when I messed up so bad? I trusted Beck, right? I thought he was my friend, so I gave him the only thing that Mr. Stark left behind for me, and now he’s going to kill my friends and half of Europe. So please - do not tell me to relax!”

“I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have shouted…” he takes a shaky inhale, “I’m sorry - I’m s-sorry I didn’t mean to” he sighs, “I didn’t mean to yell.” he sighs, hanging his head, defeated, “I just - I just really miss him. Everywhere I go I see his face. And the whole world is asking who is going to be the next Iron Man? I don’t know if that’s me, Happy. I’m not Iron Man.”

“You’re not Iron Man. You’re never going to be Iron Man. Nobody could live up to Tony. Not even Tony. Tony was my best friend, and he was a mess. He second-guessed everything he did. He was all over the place. The one thing that he did that he didn’t second-guess was picking you. I don’t think Tony would’ve done what he did if he didn’t know that you were going to be here after he was gone.”

Peter pinched his nose, nodded, and placed his head in his hands.

“I just really miss him - and and-d nothing can ever bring him back.” his voice was barely above a hushed whisper, raw with emotion, and you felt the pulling of your heartstrings as your lip trembled and tears clouded your vision. 

“I miss him too - everyday - so so much it hurts” and by that time you realized that tears were streaming down your cheeks, your knees were threatening to give out, “he’s never...oh god - he’s never coming back” 

“Y/N….I - I don’t know what to say….I’m sorry - I’m s-so so sorry” and just like that,

Both you and Peter collided into each other gripping each other in a tight embrace willing for all the bad things to go away, sinking to the floor - the both of your bodies racked with sobs, chests heaving, crying over what was lost.

It felt as if it was only now, the full weight of your dad’s death hit you and it slapped you both in the face and hurt like no other. It hurt like hell. 

For Peter, he had lost a mentor that was almost his second family, the only one who got his brilliant mind, genius jokes, and hero work, and you, a father, one whose connection with you ran so deeply it split your heart in two to witness the agony that was his death. And now Peter was in your arms, mere hours after being hit with a freaking train and barely hanging on, so so broken and you felt yourself being filled with despair. It felt like another knife had been driven straight into your heart. Straight through your very own soul.

“Y/N, everyone is telling me to step up to tell me to fit in his shoes but I …” his voice cracks, “I just can’t - I can’t” Peter buries his head in his hands again, eyes shut tightly, willing this to all be some kind of horrible awful nightmare. He takes a shaky exhale, “I can’t do this - I can’t be him”

“No Peter. Look at me,” you gently cupped his face in your hands, ”Listen. The world needs doesn’t need the next Iron Man. You know what it needs? It needs you. They need you. You’ll never be the next Iron Man - no one can - but it’s because you’re better than him. I think -” you had to stop yourself from letting out another choked sob, “- No, I know - I know for sure that h-he would be proud of you.”  

You wiped away the tears that were now dripping rapidly down your cheeks, 

“He would be so proud. So so proud” you whispered, voice trembling. 

At last, the broken boy looked up, revealing his watery, red-rimmed eyes. 

“How can I fix things when I already s-screwed them up so bad?”

“You fight.” you utter through trembling lips and watery eyes. 

“How?” he breathed, his breath raged from crying. 

“You get back up. Like you’ve done over and over again. Like you did against that mad titan and some of the most evil beings in the universe.”

After a moment of silence filled with sniffles, Peter looked up.  

“Thank you” he said hoarsely.

A watery smile broke out across your features, your gaze on him loving as you fought back a sob.

You were so proud. So so proud of him. 

“Kissing hand?” he prompted, with a look that said it all.

You just gave him a watery smile, nodded, and held out your hand, unable to open your mouth or make out words because you were afraid that if you did, you would end up in tears all over again. 

He took your hand in his as he did your “kissing hand,” that you and Peter had come with a few days ago before he left - with him bringing your connected hands up to his cheek, looking at you with that heart-eyed gaze before tilting his jaw to give your hand a kiss. 

Whenever you feel alone, anxious, hurt, or far from home, just press your hand to your cheek and think of me. And when you’ll be far from me, when that day comes, you will remember me.

He never failed to make butterflies erupt in your stomach, as a light blush dusted your cheeks, your gaze meeting his. You smiled - a lovey dopey smile - as you watched him suck in a deep breath,

“I’m going to kick his ass.”

And this time, he looked to you with a new gaze with fiery determination and the look he gave you conveyed everything you needed to know in that moment. 

Your chest swelled with pride and admiration for him as you witnessed Peter Parker - the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man from Queens with a heart of gold get back up once again - facing the inevitable, but never once daring to back down from a challenge.

Whenever you feel far from home, just press your hand to your cheek and think of me. And when that day comes, when you’ll be far from home, far from me,  you will remember me. I’ll always be with you - even when I’m not right there, right here, right now, by your side. I want you to know that I love you so so much. I love you 3000. 

…

A/N: wow!! thank you thank you thank you for reading!! please! please let me know your thoughts - I love to hear them! I love you all, thank you for your endless support <3 

tagging some wonderful people (as always, a huge thank you to YOU!❤): @acciopeter @akaspiderman @badhollandfluff @blackberrywidow @blushypetey  @coffee-and-hollands @darlingtaurus @flowercrownparker @hawkinsholland @holland-peters @hollandsosterfield @h-osterfield @iloveyouironman @i-am-steve-rogerss @lavenderholland @lostinspidey @marveley @marvellousparkerpeter @marvelplease @marvelsswansong @mcuspidey @mysteryavengers @obsiidio @parkeret  @parkerprotectionprogram @peterparklr @petersbackpack @peterstrainingwheels @playboyparker @plushparker @poetrypeter   @rachramblesstuff @retroparkers @scarlettspidey @screamholland @sergeanttpoliteness @sparklyp-parker @spideypeach @spidey-caps  @spxderbarnes @sunshinehollandd @thisbitchemptylove @thotsterfield @tomshufflepuff  @twilightparker @uglypastels @underoos-shield @uwu-peter-parker-uwu @heavenllywrites

...

[fourdaysofrain]

‘Tis The Season (For Hot Chocolate)

Summary: Peter visits Tony in his cabin over winter break.

(You’re probably gonna see a million of these today, but this is my @irondadsecretsanta for @theoceanphoenixhasrisen! Hope you like it, buddy!)

Read on AO3

The crunch of gravel under the Uber’s tires jolted Peter from his stupor. He hadn’t been sleeping, but he hadn’t been entirely awake. The last thing he remembered was the rush of buildings outside the window, but now there was only a smattering of trees. He shook his shoulders to loosen them up and adjusted the seat belt strapped across his chest. 

Leaving the city always made him nervous. Suburbia was just a little too wild for Spider-Man. Thankfully Tony’s cabin still had the sounds of the woods and water filtering through the windows, but still. It’s hard to sleep with all that silence. 

“Have a good nap?” the driver asked from the front seat. 

“Yeah.” Peter had completely forgotten about him. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

As if spurred by Peter’s response, the driver continued to speak. “Gonna be quite a storm, eh?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Peter looked out the car window to see a few snowflakes falling down. Nothing was sticking yet.

The driver’s wide green eyes flicked to Peter’s through the rear-view mirror. “It’s the Blip causin’ it, you know. Everyone coming back all at once like that, it’s bound to cause some damage.”

Peter nodded as politely as he could. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before; it was basically all New York could talk about recently. How would the Blip affect the climate? Apparently, the few winters during the Blip were the coldest on record. As with the rest of the doubts about its long-term effects, they could only wait and see. 

He was happy to get some form of solace from the sight of Tony’s cabin. 

“Can you pull over here, please?” He motioned to the side of the gravel road. Hopefully Tony wouldn’t mind bringing a stranger this close to his house. They were still outside of FRI’s sphere of influence, at least.

The frosty gravel noisily crackled as the Uber parked on the side of the road. “Need any help with your bags?” the driver asked as they both walked out towards the trunk. He popped it open and Peter grabbed his small suitcase and backpack easily.

“I’ll be good, thanks.” Peter looked to the cabin and back to the driver. “Happy holidays, man!”

The driver nodded and got back into the driver’s seat. “Have a good one!”

The car drove away and left Peter standing alone about 500 feet from the cabin with his suitcase at his feet. It felt strangely symbolic in some way. The moment was broken by him lunging for his phone to give a rating and tip to his driver. 

Peter sighed and started walking the rest of the way to the cabin. It was well worth the cold, he convinced himself. Tony still thought that he was stuck on campus for another couple of days. The only people in on it were May and Pepper. This surprise trip had been Pepper’s idea, actually. She was on a week-long trip to Europe to meet with some big-wig investors and had been worried Tony would be too lonely with just himself and Morgan at the cabin. May agreed, and now Peter was surprising Tony with a night spent at the cabin and an invitation to his and May’s apartment for the next couple of days. 

He finally spotted the gnarled old tree that marked FRIDAY’s border. He jogged over and shuffled his feet a bit before speaking. He always felt weird talking to FRI at the cabin. It was too rustic looking to house an AI, but yet, she was ever-present as always. 

“Hey, FRI.” He chewed his lip and hoped no one was watching him talk to a tree. ”I’m trying to surprise Mr. Stark, so can you promise to not tell him I’m here?”

He waited for a few beats, but there was no response from the AI. He frowned. Normally she gave some sort of response, even though she didn’t have any speakers set up outside the cabin. A text on his phone, or something. 

“Wrong tree!” came a voice from his right. He swung his head over and saw Tony smiling next to a pile of half-chopped firewood. He was walking over much too calmly to be surprised. 

“No, it’s the uh...” Peter looked over to the tree and counted the branches. “Isn’t it the big dead one with four branches?”

Tony finally reached him and pulled him into a hug. “Nice to see you, kid.”

“Yeah, nice to see you too.” Peter broke the hug and glared warmly at Tony. ”But you’re supposed to be surprised!”

“FRIDAY used to be in this tree with four branches-- you’re right about that.” Tony points at the tree Peter just finished talking to and then pointed to where the gravel road bends through the trees to reach the main road behind them. “But you’ve been gone since August. I got bored. Now she monitors everyone who comes off the main road and can be talked to from anywhere on the property. By the time you get back from next semester, I’m hoping she can talk back, too.”

Peter sighed. Surprising a billionaire super-engineer was impossible. He’d have to put some of his MIT skills to use next year if he wanted to succeed. 

“So you saw the Uber, then,” he said. 

Tony hummed in affirmation. “I’m honestly offended you didn’t use Happy. I’m deeply offended on his behalf.” “I swung as far as I could, but had to Uber the rest of the way.” He adjusted his backpack’s straps. “And Happy can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

Tony snorted and looked away to the pile of firewood. “Morgan’s still taking her afternoon nap.” He looks back to Peter with an eyebrow quirked up competitively. “Ever used an ax?”

Peter, as it turned out, was very good at chopping firewood. It took him a while to get over the whole not-needing-to-hold-himself-back thing, but once he did, the log slices were being split with one quick chop. 

“You’re catching up, Pete,” Tony said from his own pile, a few yards away. 

Peter wiped sweat from his brow and his eyes lit up with an idea. He threw the ax to the side and picked up a log on its own. It didn’t feel too sturdy. 

“I could probably just…” He trailed off as he tossed the log between his hands. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed it firmly near the center of its cut-off end and pulled. The crack of splitting wood filled the grassy area. Peter examined the split: it was a little rougher than if he had used the ax, but it was much more efficient. It didn’t need to be a pretty cut, they were going to burn it all anyways. He threw the sloppy halves onto the top of his pile. 

He looked over to Tony, mouth open and ready to brag, but stopped when he saw the expression on his face. 

Tony was staring at Peter’s hands with his eyes slightly wide and nostrils flared. He flexed the palm of his right hand a few times, which caused his thumb and little finger to move jerkily. It was an awkward remnant from his time spent in the suit that looked especially strange with his prosthetic. 

“You okay, Tony?” Peter cautiously asked. He walked over towards him to… do something helpful, he hoped. Maybe start by taking the ax away from him. But before he could reach him, Tony blinked and it was like a switch had been flipped. He was back to how he was a few seconds ago.

“I’m doing perfect, kid.” Tony set down his ax and clapped his hands together. “How about we head in, Mo’s probably gonna be up soon.” He motioned between the two piles of wood. “Loser with enhanced strength takes in the wood. We’ll only need a few pieces for tonight. I’ll get your bags.”

Peter grabbed an armful of firewood and lightly jogged to catch up with Tony on the way back to the cabin. Tony seemed to be back to normal, but there was a tenseness in his shoulders that betrayed the easy smile on his face. 

“You sure you’re good, Mr. Stark?” Tony gave a short dry chuckle and looked away.

“Remember when you were young and easy to lie to?” Tony sighed as he peered at Peter through the corner of his eye. “I think back on that time fondly. You’d believe anything I told you.”

Peter jutted his chin out. “You never lied to me.”

“‘Course not,” Tony quipped. He turned to Peter with a grin. “I never had to.”

Peter rolled his eyes as the two stepped on the porch of the cabin. He dropped the wood noisily in the corner and took a second to appreciate the view. The sun had already mostly set, making the woods a comfortably eerie backdrop. Although it was barely 5pm, the sky was quickly darkening. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground-- Peter guessed that it had finally started to stick sometime in the past half hour or so. The snow was falling lazily from the clouds above. 

“I assume you expect me to get you dinner, then?” 

Tony’s soft voice took Peter out of his reverie. He coughed awkwardly before responding. “Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind. You know how I get when it’s cold.”

“And by that, you mean your whole…” Tony paused to point vaguely at Peter. “Storing energy for hibernation thing.”

Peter crossed his arms with a huff. “Geez, you sleep through one week of high school and it’s all anyone ever talks about.”

Tony laughed and gripped Peter’s shoulder with his good hand. “You’ll get it when you’ve got kids of your own.” He quickly cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go wake up the princess, you find a takeout menu in the junk drawer.”

Peter hummed as Tony went inside. He took in the outdoors for another second before following him into the cabin.

“You’re a traitor, FRI,” he greeted as he walked to the kitchen.

It only took a second for her voice to come online. “Welcome back, Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as he opened the junk drawer and rummaged for an appealing take out menu.

Navigating Tony’s cabin was second nature to Peter. He knew it as intimately as he knew May’s apartment. Simply being inside it was a comfort after the months he spent in an unfamiliar dorm. 

He picked out a menu and it wasn’t long before him, Tony, and Morgan were squished onto the couch with a plate of food each and gently debating which movie to watch.

“We watched Coco in Spanish class when it came out back in 2017-- it’s great and Morgan needs to see it,” Peter offered. 

“I can’t watch another musical, kid,” Tony complained. 

“I wanna watch Frozen 3 again!” Morgan argued. 

Eventually, they agreed with Morgan and promised each other to stop being such pushovers by the time she realized how easy it would be to take advantage of them. 

Tony and Peter were both beginning to doze on either side of Morgan as the movie ended. Peter jerked awake when Morgan shook his shoulder.

“Are you sleeping?” she asked.

He stole a glance at Tony sitting on the opposite side of the couch, whose eyes were closed with his mouth was open in an unflattering circle. As great as it was to see Tony having restful sleep, Peter knew he would be complaining about his back all day tomorrow if he slept on the couch. 

Peter looked back to Morgan. “I’m not, but I think your dad is. Why don’t you go upstairs and I’ll wake him up for you?”

Morgan nodded and ran upstairs, leaving Peter alone with Tony, who looked like he was just about to start snoring. He leaned over and held a hand halfway to his shoulder before pulling it back and electing to just use his voice.

“The movie’s over,” he whispered. Tony responded with a heavy exhale that started to rumble in his chest. Peter raised his voice. “Tony, wake up!”

Tony sharply cleared his throat and blinked open his eyes. “Was just resting my eyes,” he said with a voice heavy with sleep. 

“Morgan’s up in her bedroom already,” he said, deciding not to refute Tony’s point. “You should say goodnight to her, I’m gonna go bring my stuff to the guest room.”

Tony groaned as he stretched his back and stood up. “How many times do you have to stay over before I convince you it’s not a guest room? You’re the only one who I let use it, kid.”

Oh, that’s nice, Peter thought. And then, He should really invite more people over.

“Okay, then uh-- I’ll just take these to my room, then.” He grabbed his bags from where they were resting against the wall. “By the way, I’m going back to May’s in the morning and she wanted me to invite you and Morgan until Pepper gets back.”

(He decides not to mention how he pestered May about inviting them for the week leading up to this trip.)

Tony followed Peter to the stairs. “Is there enough room?”

“Yeah, we think.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I’m gonna take the couch, Morgan can take my room, and then May said she can share her room with you.”

Seeing the look on Tony’s face, Peter backtracked. “Or, I mean, I can spend the night at Ned’s so you don’t have to share a bed with May. Or you can like, just stay here.”

“Kid, relax,” Tony said through a chuckle. Peter was starting to revert back to his anxious 14-year-old style of rambling. “I’d love to. If May’s okay with it, I am too. ‘Sides, the little miss always loves seeing her aunt.”

Peter smiled back at Tony as he went to open the door to the guest room. Tony watched as his hand hesitated at the doorknob. He suddenly felt very emotional. Maybe it was just how Tony was standing in his pajamas, looking at him with a casual smile, but he felt loved. Being in Tony’s orbit meant you never felt ignored. Sometimes it meant you couldn’t go patrolling whenever you wanted or you had to put up with nonsensical texts sent annoyingly early in the morning when he stays up all night, but most of the time it was this: seeing Tony when he’s vulnerable. There’s something to be said about seeing the universe’s savior when he’s just a person. When he’s tinkering on your newest suit after you visit him with one-too-many stab wounds. When he’s smiling at one of your jokes over a crowded dinner table. Or right now, when he’s about to read a bedtime story to his daughter but he’s still making sure you’re comfortable. 

“Do you need a bedtime story too?” 

“No, I was just…” Peter shifted his weight between his feet. “Y’know, thanks for everything.”

Tony’s lips slowly stretched into a smile. “Of course, kid. It’s what I do.” He opened up the door to Morgan’s room. “Night, Pete.”

“Night, Mr. Stark.”

Peter finally entered the guest room, his room, and dropped his bags on the rug. May made fun of him for packing so much for an overnight trip, but he never knew what to expect. His backpack was filled with homework he had to do before the next term started. He had been so sure he’d have the will to do it while he was packing it, but now he just wanted to sleep. He begrudgingly took out his mechanical engineering textbook and started to read. 

He woke up with his face resting somewhere between kinematics and thermodynamics. He groaned and checked the time. It was after 3am. He groaned. While his bed was still calling to him, he felt compelled to go down to the kitchen. 

When he got there, he saw Tony fiddling with the coffee maker. He looked a bit deranged, like a bear trying to get into a trash can. 

“Hey, man.” Peter jumped up to sit on the counter across from him. 

Tony jumped at his voice and turned around. When he saw Peter, he deflated. “Mornin’, kid.”

“Coffee machine not working?” Peter asked, nodding at the array of red lights on the appliance. 

Tony sniffed. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a touchy subject right now.”

“Cool, cool.” Peter looked from the machine to Tony’s empty mug when an idea came to him. “Hey, do you wanna make hot chocolate?”

“There’s probably some mix in the pantry somewhere. Feel free to rummage,” Tony said as he waved a hand nonchalantly. 

Peter kicked off the counter and started searching. It took him a few minutes to find everything he needed. He laid out a few packets of hot chocolate mix, milk, two mugs, and candy canes on the counter. He was even able to find some peppermint extract in the pantry, which was probably leftover from holiday baking. Tony just leaned against the counter and watched as he flitted from cabinet to cabinet. 

“Isn’t peppermint a spider repellent?” he asked as Peter filled the two mugs with milk and put them in the microwave. Peter turned and saw him looking at the small bottle. 

Peter grabbed two spoons as the microwave hummed. “Yeah, I think May read that on Pinterest a while back.” A beat. “Wait, is that why you didn’t let me eat any of your candy canes last year?”

Tony’s silence spoke volumes. 

“Wow,” Peter said. “I don’t know whether to be honored or offended. Not all spiders are the same.” He took the now steaming mugs out of the microwave and stirred in a generous amount of hot chocolate powder. “I’m still good with all the same things, by the way. May and I tested all of the ‘natural spider repellents’ on me when she read the article.” He screwed his face up as he continued to stir. ”I didn’t like lemon, but I didn’t like that before either.”

“Duly noted.” Tony walks to look over Peter’s shoulder as he works. “So what’s with all this then?”

Peter debated not telling him. It would be easy to just make up some story about how some Buzzfeed video showed a new and exciting way to make hot chocolate, or something like that. But Tony would probably be able to see through it easily. He could read him like a book. Sometimes it sucked, but honestly, it was nice for someone who he’s not related to care about him enough to be able to know when something was up. 

He took the spoons out of the mugs and set them in the sink, carefully not making eye contact with Tony. 

“Ben and I used to make hot chocolate in the winter.” He motioned to the remainder of the ingredients on the counter. ”He taught me how to make it like this.”

Tony nodded. “Good man.”

“He was,” Peter said softly. And then, a little stronger, “He was. You should have met him.” 

“I would have loved that.” Tony cleared his throat to reset the atmosphere. “Should I leave the room, or am I allowed in on the secret?”

Peter debated that for a moment, then got embarrassed for making such a big deal out of it, then chided himself for acting like it didn’t matter. Sure, it was a simple adjustment to the norm that Tony could easily guess. He was sure there were a million families that made hot chocolate the exact same way. But it was one of the few sacred things that Ben left behind. One of the very few Parker family secrets, left for the one of the very few remaining Parkers. 

“Pete?”

Peter looked up to Tony from where he had been staring at the still-swirling hot chocolate. He smiled nervously.

“Sorry, just uh… thinking.” He picked up the bottle of peppermint extract and shook it in his hand. He didn’t mind adding a third person to their ritual. “Yeah, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Tony’s face softened minutely. Even though Peter didn’t let on to how personal this was, he seemed to understand. 

That was the good thing about Tony: Peter didn’t need to say everything he felt for the message to get across. 

“So,” Peter started, rolling up his sleeves. He wasn’t going to do anything messy, but it felt like the professional thing to do. “You start by making hot chocolate normally, which we’ve done.”

Tony grabbed one of the mugs and stood right next to Peter and his mug. “Got it.”

“Then, you add a few drops of peppermint extract and stir it with a candy cane.” Peter passed the bottle and a candy cane to Tony once he’s done.

Tony repeated what he did and looked at him expectantly.

“And then,” Peter said in a low voice. “And then, you’re done. Sorry, that was--”

He was cut off by a hand on his shoulder. “I dig it, kid. Keepin’ it simple.”

They shared a smile. 

Tony nodded his head towards the kitchen table and they both took a seat. They sat without speaking for a moment, just enjoying being in the same room after Peter’s term at college. Eventually, Tony broke the silence. 

“You reminded me of Cap earlier,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It surprised me, is all. I sometimes forget that you’re…” He waved a hand at him vaguely. “Enhanced.”  He finished by averting his eyes and taking a sip of his hot chocolate. 

Peter looked down at his hands and flexed them. “Sorry.”

“No. Lord, no.” Peter looked up and saw Tony leaning over the table to make eye contact with him. “I’m not saying that to make you... “ He leaned back in his chair and put a hand over his face. “I’m trying to have a moment with you.”

Peter raised his eyebrows at him.

“I care about you,” he said simply.

“So you’ve said.” 

Tony’s lips quirked at that. “It’s surprising to how much you’ve grown. I mean, for God’s sake, do you remember our first Christmas together?”

Peter took a sip of his hot chocolate and sent his mind back. He had shown up to the Avenger’s tower with a rumpled present and an awkward grin the day after Christmas. Tony, although he hadn’t expected him to show up, welcomed him in and led him to the living room where him and Rhodey were drinking mulled wine. By the end of the night, he had ordered a few packages to be sent to Peter’s apartment in the morning. 

“Yeah, it was really cool.”

“You’ve gotten a lot stronger since then. More confident. Not to say that you couldn’t pull apart some wood back then.” Tony made a face. “I-- Lord. I’m terrible at this.”

Peter didn’t deny that.

“What I’m trying to say,” Tony said, “is that I’m proud of you. Sometimes it just surprises me when you prove how capable you are. I don’t have to worry about you anymore, it’s nice.” He scratched his eyebrow. ”Of course, I still worry, but I know I don’t have to.”

Something soft and warm bloomed in Peter’s chest. 

“Thanks, Tony.” His voice came out a little fragiler than normal. He cleared his throat. “I uh-- I get what you’re saying. It means a lot.”

Tony grabbed his now-empty mug and walked around the table to clap Peter on the shoulder. “Anytime, kid.” He took Peter’s empty mug too and went to the sink to rinse them out. “That hot chocolate was great, you’ll have to come over and make it more often!” he called behind him. 

“Yeah, for sure,” Peter responded. He stood up and stretched. “Anyways, we should get to bed. I want to leave for May’s before noon so we can have lunch together.”

Tony turned around to look at him directly. “Kid, have you not looked outside?”

Peter shook his head and Tony pointed his chin to a nearby window. Wow. There was at least a foot of snow on the ground and it was still coming down heavily from the gray clouds above. No way they were driving home now. He said as much to Tony. 

“Looks like you’re going to be spending more than just the night here.”

Peter shrugged. 

There were worse places to be. 

Tag List:  @ironfamjam @addi-is-amazing @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @wellplacedbanana @night0seven @unfathomable-universe​ @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @spideynamu

[sweetdejun]

coterie: the black leather bracelet (2/2)

gang!x1 x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life. but what happens when you catch the gang that is famous for keeping their deeds under the table, in action?

coterie’s masterlist can be found here

pairing: lee hangyul and y/n

a/n: mentions of sex (I couldn’t write actual smut to save my life), cursing, and mentions of alcohol and drugs, so proceed with caution. this is also LONG.

In the first few weeks, you spend observing hangyul’s work. he insisted that you should observe him so that when it comes to your assignment you don’t ask him questions. you thought it was a dick move on his part, but in hindsight, you’re positive that he knows what he’s doing. during the time you’ve observed his actions, you’ve also warmed up more to hangyul. after you made it clear that you were uncomfortable with all the flirting, he stopped. he’s got a sarcastic sense of humor, which is always active, and you’ve started to notice this growing sympathy towards hangyul; given the job he has, he’s a completely different person in actuality, and, unfortunately, not many people get to see it. finally, once the week is over, hangyul brings you the information for your first client the very next morning. it’s a manila folder with your name neatly written on one of the corners, and he hands it to you after breakfast. “here’s your first target, y/n. name’s jang juhyeok. his dad is the head of the national intelligence service, and they have some evidence that we’d like to have back. I’ve asked wooseok to compile all his information and have put it in this folder, for you. this is the first and last time I’ll be doing this for you, though. now you know who to go to if you need any information on him.” you stop him before he can leave, and ask, “so, what now, do I just find him and try to become friends with him?” hangyul understands your confusion as to where to begin, so he thinks a bit before answering, “ultimately the goal is to lure him in, somehow. you decide what you wanna do and how you wanna do it. I’d suggest going to places that he commonly visits and just trying to paint a picture and create a story. I don’t know what else to tell you other than good luck. now, I’ve got to get to my target, so I’ll see you around.” and with that, he waved and left you at the door to your room. the corner of your room had a desk space, where you set up things like your laptop and such. taking a seat there, you decided to open up the file and familiarize yourself with its contents. this guy, juhyeok, is a senior at another university in the city and is a business major. in the profile are details about his social life, academics, and something like a day-to-day schedule that he follows. you look over the schedule and this dude’s a party-goer, a gym fanatic and is still managing to get by with good grades in school. a perfect guy? impossible. there must be something you can use against him, you start to think, and then, you see it. under ‘hobbies’, there is the name of a club, where he DJs. “perfect, I’ll start from here. maybe then I’ll get some starting point figured out.” you mumble to yourself as you read through the notes provided by wooseok. you find out juhyeok DJs on friday nights. that only gives you...wait, that’s in a couple of hours. you get up out of your chair and rush over to your closet, rummaging through the clothes to see if you can find something just right for the occasion. just when you think you can’t find anything, you see it; haseul bought a short black dress to take you clubbing for your birthday months back. you went, though you stayed away from the drinks for the most part because ultimately you would be the designated driver. you didn’t get rid of the dress, because it was a nice dress, just not something you’d buy for yourself. you never thought you’d ever need it desperately but a night like tonight required the attire. you quickly changed into it and got ready to go out. you called soonja, “is there a mode of transportation available at this time?” she told you the driver should be outside, and she’ll call for him to be ready. and you grabbed a coat and your purse before heading down. on your way out, you collided with a body, who was none other than hangyul. his eyes went wide. “where are you going?” you tried to ignore his gaze scanning you from head to toe, and answered him, “going after my target. wish me luck.” and when the driver came around, you walked away from hangyul, unaware of his lingering gaze on you.

as soon as you told the driver where you wanted to go, you began to come up with your story. you couldn’t give away your true identity and you certainly didn’t want the guy to ever be able to find you again. you conjured a tale with the help of wooseok, and by the time you reached the club, you’d gone over it a few times. you thanked him before letting him know to be back in around two hours. that should give you more than enough time to introduce yourself to the guy. the atmosphere of the club resembled the one you saw in your dream heavily. the fumes of the various alcohols were suffocating, and the sticky floors covered in god knows what clung slightly as you walked around amongst the crowds of people, until you managed to get to the center of the dance floor. there, at the dj booth stood juhyeok, bopping his head along to the music, messing with the records in front of him. you start to dance, eyes trained on him, waiting for him to look up. bodies are hitting yours, but you still somehow manage to move your body as if you’re the only one there. and luck’s on your side because as juhyeok’s gaze flickers up for a second, it comes back and is trained on you and your body. you take this moment and direct a smile and a wink towards him, which he reciprocated with a smile of his own. he calls someone over, and when they get to him, he hands them the dj headphones and is on his way down. you feel yourself getting nervous but you make your way over to the bar and down a shot of tequila to calm your tense nerves when you feel a tap on the shoulder. you turn around and there is juhyeok. “hi, I’ve never seen you around here. are you new to town?” you get into character and smirk, “you could say that. I never have time to come down to party, so I thought since I had nothing to do tonight, why not?” he sits you down, a beer in his hand and a martini in your own, and you tell him your “story”, about how you used to live in a nearby city, and when your job transferred you, you’d been so flooded with work that you rarely had time to sit and relax. you tell him about your job as an accountant, which you’re positive that he’ll check on. silently thanking wooseok, you almost missed it when juhyeok asked you for coffee the next morning. “you know, I’m gonna need your name and number for that.” for a short second, you’re about to say your own name but then remember, “I just got a new phone, so give me your number, and I’ll text you my name. but for now, I need to go.” he narrates his number to you, and he grabs your wrist, only to kiss the back of your hand. “tomorrow?” you smile at him, “tomorrow.” and you do eventually text him, and one thing leads to another, you start to gain juhyeok’s trust. of course, as your relationship gets stronger, you begin to spend more time around him. he is convinced you guys are a couple, and you’ve got him exactly where you want him. one night, when you returned from the club, you entered the house and found hangyul sitting on the couch. in his hand was a glass, filled halfway with some liquid you assumed was alcohol. said assumption came true because when you approached him, he looked up at you, with a wave of anger looming in his red eyes. “do you know how late it is, y/n? I get it, you’re doing fucking amazing, but please, make it back home at an earlier time than two in the fucking morning. I don’t care if that’s ruining the fun, or whatever, just-” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “and who are you to tell me when to get home? relax, hangyul, I know what I’m doing. just let me do my job. and for pete’s sake, stop babying me.” your speech is a little slurred, but you continue, “I’ve almost got him. now I just need to get him alone, in a secluded area. I plan on taking him to the sunflower fields tomorrow, and there’s a small shed on the way there. that’s where I’ll put him.” “stop babying you? stop acting as if you’ve been doing this job forever! you’re still new, don’t forget that. I know that it’s unsafe for anyone to be out at this time, but if you don’t care, it’s not my fucking problem!” hangyul huffed and moved closer to you. you can smell the faint alcohol radiating from him. at this point, your face is inches away from hangyul’s and you slip on a sleepy smile and shut your eyes. 

“alright, alright, I got it. but could you keep it down? my head hurts and I’m so tired,” your balance is slipping away from you, and you trip over nothing, falling forward. luckily, hangyul catches you before anything can happen, and your upper body is awkwardly leaning against hangyul’s chest, with his arms wrapped around your waist uncomfortably. he shifts a bit and adjusts one of his arms under your knees so that now he’s carrying you bridal style. you’re knocked out, and fall asleep with your head buried in the junction between hangyul’s shoulder and neck. he feels your breaths against his skin as he takes you up the stairs and into your room. he gently places you down on your bed, and unhooks your arms from around him, before reaching down and putting your blanket over you. your hand catches his just before he leaves, and you tug him down, catching him off-guard. the moonlight that once reflected a halo on him now illuminated the brilliant features of your face, and your tired gaze managed to look saccharine at the same time. “c’ mere,” you whisper and hangyul obliges, moving his face closer to your own. your eyes move down from his small widow’s peak to his deep umber eyes, down his nose bridge and stop at his pink mouth. he seemed to read your mind because he finds himself coming closer to you. your actions resemble his own, and you tilt your head up just enough so that soon, your lips collide with his own. at first, there is no movement. but hangyul gathers his strength and kisses you, slowly as if he’s taking you in second by second. your hands move out of your blanket to cradle his face, and his move to hold your covered waist. the passion gets stronger as does the fire growing in the pit of your stomach. you need more contact, you think but your train of thought quickly fades away, as hangyul’s mouth starts to wander down your neck, wanting to touch every inch of you. a strangled gasp leaves your mouth and hangyul loves the sound of it. the night brings many similar sounds coming from the both of you and the thought of sleep came around much later than it was originally intended to. 

the next morning arrived fast. the sun shone down on you from the window, and you woke up to a pounding head and a sore body, and it only took you a few seconds to realize that you were completely naked also. you tried to get up, but something, or rather, someone was holding you back. a bare arm was holding you tight around the waist, and you turned to see sprawled next to you was hangyul, exposed from the shoulder up. you didn’t need to check to see if he was naked or not, and the events from the night before were hazy, but still managed to bring a blush to your face. “uh, hangyul. get up.” you tapped his arm, holding the blanket around your upper body to guard yourself. “hangyul,” you were a bit louder this time, and see him reaching to rub his face. once his eyes adjust to the light, he sits up before looking over at you. his eyes shoot open. “wha- oh. uh... hmm.” his hand goes back to scratch the back of his head, but hangyul’s eyes were fixed on his lap. “we had sex last night.” he said after some moments of being silent. “yeah, we did.” hangyul peers up at you through his lashes, almost contemplating about saying something. he sits up straight, alerting you, and reaches over to his side to slip on his briefs. “we won’t talk about this anymore. pretend it never happened. what happened last night was... unprofessional. it was my fault, I should’ve been more aware of myself.” you don’t know why you felt a dull pain in your chest when he said that, but you agree. “yeah, don’t worry. forgiven and forgotten. it was a drunk mistake,” you said and hangyul, who was turned away from you, winced a bit when you said that. one by one, he and you pick up the articles of clothing you’d thrown on the ground mere hours ago, and hangyul dresses himself and turns away as you do the same, out of respect. you walk him to the door, and he turns and says, “today, you’re meeting juhyeok in that sunflower field? I’ll get there a bit earlier, and I’ll be near the shed, ready and waiting for your signal, okay? I’ll have a mic in there, so find a way to say the word, “the bird is in the nest”. it sounds weird, but it’s a specific enough phrase. work it into a conversation or something, that’s when I’ll come in. until then, bye.” you shut the door and calm yourself from the whirlwind of emotions going through you. fuck it. it’s about time you admit to yourself that you've found him attractive for a long time. and you felt like shit when he treated your...union as a mistake. you don’t hold any other position in his head other than a co-worker and it shouldn’t matter what he thinks but it does. and you wish nothing more than to stay here, in your bed all day, but you need to get ready because you’ve gotta get to juhyeok’s house. you get dressed, grab your purse and your phone and leave your room. as you walk down the set of stairs you see hangyul in the foyer and make brief eye contact with him. he mouths, “are you leaving now?” you nod and he gives you a thumbs up. you’re down the stairs completely and are walking towards the entrance, where the car is ready. hangyul, who’s walking to a separate vehicle, looks at you and says, “I’ll leave now. see you soon.” and steps inside the car, before driving off.

the drive to juhyeok’s house seemed too fast, but that’s probably because you are shaking in nervousness. you can only hope things will go your way, and that you’ve had a successful mission. the only thing you feel bad about, if anything, is that you’ve messed with juhyeok this entire time. sure, the guy’s not perfect, but you still did share some connection with him; it’s just not mutual. you get to his house, where he’s waiting for you and waving. “I thought you were gonna ditch me,” he tells you as he reaches out to give you a hug that you lightly return. “I wouldn’t ditch you. come, let’s go! I wanna get some good pictures!” you feel his stare linger on you a little longer, but you move around him to sit in the car. it’s a silent drive on your way there; the field isn’t too far, but it was no five-minute drive. you were quiet, staring out of the window or messing around with your phone. the only sound was the mixture of the music and static on the car radio. juhyeok decided to break the silence at some point, with “what’s on your mind?” his hand went over the console and rested on your thigh, his thumb running across it and giving you shudders. “it’s nothing. I just...have a feeling.” you weren’t lying: you had a sinking feeling in your stomach, but it usually felt like this when you were nervous, so you didn’t pay much attention. you started to see the yellow of the sunflowers as the car approached it closely. after some time, juhyeok parked the car, and turned to you. “well cheer up, y/n! we’re here! and I have a picnic basket full of goodies for us.” you smiled at his attempt to distract you, and teased “didn’t know you were capable of building a picnic basket for us, you dork. that’s too cute,” and he blushed a bit. you stepped outside the car and took in the beautiful scenery. it’s a shame you won’t have too much time to spend out here because the purpose of your visit is most certainly not recreational. it takes you two about an hour to settle down, enjoy the contents of the picnic basket, and take a few pictures. then you two lie next to each other on the red checkered sheet, and you look up at juhyeok, to find his gaze already on you. you lean in, according to your plan, and kiss him. he kisses you back and you quickly decide that he doesn’t kiss anything like hangyul. you both sit up, and you place yourself in his lap, then continue. things get intense, but your heart isn’t racing like it was when you were with hangyul. no adrenaline running through you, your senses aren’t going hazy, and you’re not craving more; all of which you felt with hangyul was absent with juhyeok. but you need to execute your plan, so you break away and whisper in his ear, “there’s a shed nearby, why don’t we go there?” it’s apparent that juhyeok approves of your idea, because he groans and nods feverishly, at a loss of words. you get up and walk him over to the shed. you walk in first, and before you can say anything, you feel it: a gun pressed against the back of your head. 

“surprised?” juhyeok’s tone is completely different. the once dulcet-laced voice now rings with venom, and you can only nod, the rest of you shaking. juhyeok laughs darkly. “what did you think? I wouldn’t know why I’m here? something was off when I saw someone at the club who had never been there and managed to get close to me. my dad trained me from a very young age to take note of people like you. just be glad I haven’t killed you yet.” he keeps the gun on you but moves so that now the gun is pointing on your forehead, and he stands in front of you to see your trembling mouth and teary eyes, fearing for your life. you clench your hands and juhyeok grunts, pushing the gun against you even harder. you cry out in pain and he says, “ keep your hands at a visible place, otherwise, I’ll shoot. what did you take me for, an idiot? your game was easy to catch onto, and at first, I was only suspicious. but when you decided to bring me to a secluded area like the sunflower field, where the only other thing here is this bloody shed, my suspicions were confirmed. now, do you have anything to say before I kill you here and now? perhaps, who you’re working for and what you want from me?” it takes all the courage in you to look him in the eye, and clear your throat before saying, “all I have to say is: the bird is in the nest.” you say loud enough and juhyeok’s face morphs into one of confusion, but before he realizes anything, it’s too late. hangyul and a few other men have burst into the shed, from multiple locations, and they beat down juhyeok and start tying him up. the gun that was against your head now lies on the ground, and one of the men confiscates it. you run to a corner and watch as juhyeok still struggles with the men, kicking and jolting, but he is unsuccessful. hangyul walks over and puts a cloth over his mouth and juhyeok’s movements begin to seize, then stop completely. “he’s good, boys. you can take him. I’ll tell seungwoo hyung everything’s under control.” you lean against a wall in the shed, slowly moving down and for the love of god, you can’t stop shaking and your head hurts like hell. but a hand reaches out in front of you and you look to see hangyul, worry glazed in his eyes. you take it, and he helps you up. “hey, it’s okay. you’re safe now.” he rests his hands on your shoulders, but that only tips you over the edge, because then your arms wrap around his torso, and you pull him towards you, burying your face in his chest. hangyul hesitantly wraps his arms around you and places a peck on your forehead. you two are in this position for some time, until you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. “sir, I just wanted to let you know that the man is in our car, we have successfully captured him.” hangyul steps away from you, who is now a nervous mess. “oh! okay, just keep me posted, and let me know when he gets there. I’ll send our interrogation team there.” the man, with a small smile on his face, nods affirmatively and walks away leaving the two of you in the shed.

“let’s go, you must be tired. we’re done here, anyway.” hangyul rambles and you nod, following him back to the car. he says he’s parked a few miles away, but that’s the only thing you hear because the sound of your heartbeat is starting to overpower his voice. suddenly he stops talking and you look up to find him looking back at you. “huh? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” you bashfully tell him, looking at anything but him. “ I asked if you were okay.” you bit your lip and nodded, but hangyul wasn’t convinced. “it’s my fault, I should’ve trained you more, instead of throwing you in the situation unprepared.” you shook your head and voiced your opposition. “no, I don’t think it was your fault at all. I think I overestimated this job, and I wasn’t being mindful when it came to doing certain things. I should have paid more attention, but it’s most certainly not your fault.” you’ve reached the car, and hangyul opens the door for you, before going around the driver’s side and starting the car. the ride back home was quiet at first, but out of everything going through your head, there was one thought you felt obligated to voice. “he kissed me today, but it didn’t feel like you.” and if hangyul wasn’t already approaching a red light, he was sure he was going to brake in the middle of the road. “I didn’t enjoy it; yeah, I kissed him before, but after I kissed you, it didn’t feel right kissing him again. I know that I also shouldn’t get attached to the client, but I couldn’t. he was the perfect guy, but that was before I got to know you. and now, hangyul,” you turn and look at him, “I don’t want anyone else. my mr.perfect was with me all along.” he doesn’t say anything in response, and you feel your heart dropping slowly. you reach the house, and before he even turns the car off, you’ve opened the door and are trying to leave. “y/n!” you hear, and hangyul comes running over to you. you stop, but you feel embarrassed. maybe you shouldn’t have screwed it up. maybe now you’ve fucked up the only friendship this team had to of- your thoughts get cut off when hangyul lifts your face with his hands and kisses you. your hands drop your things and fly into his hair, kissing him back. you pull away after a bit and look at each other in the eyes. “you didn’t hear what I had to say,” he starts, thumb brushing against your cheek. you lean into his touch and he says, “you were breathtaking from the day I laid my eyes on you. I hadn’t felt that way before with anyone. you were perfect and still are. but at the time, I thought I didn’t stand the chance because, well, this job painted me a certain way. I thought you hated my guts, and I didn’t feel worthy enough to be yours. last night, you gave me an experience that I’ll never forget.” you blush and look away for a second, and he continues, “I felt even worse about it, and didn’t want it to get in the way of anything, that’s why I said what I said about it this morning. but I didn’t mean it. when I saw you today trembling in fear, I wanted to kill that bastard. trust me, I did, but luckily the other guys got their hands on him before I did. the point is, I feel the same way. and I’m so glad that I can finally call you mine. that is, if you’ll let me?” you laughed and pecked his lips again before saying, “of course. anything for you, hangyul.”

a/n: aaaand that’s over! sorry it took so long, I’ve been busy with packing! I’ll be going out of town for a few days so the next coterie will take some time. that’s why I made this one a little longer than usual. how did y’all like it? did you expect it to be hangyul? if not, who’d you think it was? let me know in the comments and as always, thank you guys for all the love and support you have given this series!!

[39hystericalqueens]

It’s A Hard Life (Brian May x Reader) Chapter 1

This series was written alongside a companion playlist. Each song on the playlist is related to a certain scene or moment within the story and while this fic can 100% be read without the playlist, it adds so much to the story to listen along as you read. Throughout this series, you will see numbers in parentheses within the text. Each number corresponds to a track on the playlist. For example, if you saw: (1), this would mean play the first track on the playlist before continuing on reading. Some of the songs serve to set the mood, some correspond with a song that is actually playing in the story, and some tell part of the story better than I can and so they help to drive the plot. I will say again that you don’t need the playlist to understand and enjoy this fic but I strongly recommend at least checking it out. 

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Warnings: Some swearing

A/N: It’s finally here! The first chapter of my Brian May x Reader fic, It’s A Hard Life. I worked really hard on this so I hope you all enjoy! Additionally, I don’t have a taglist yet so if you like what you read please message me and I’ll be sure to tag you in all future installments. 

Word Count: 4.8k (she’s a long first chapter)

October 1969

*beep beep beep*

*beep beep beep*

It never ceased to amaze you how jarring the sound of your alarm clock could be. Loud and unrelenting, it was especially obnoxious this morning because it signaled one thing: the beginning of the week. Grudgingly, you rolled over to check the time. 

6:45 AM

Ugh. In an hour you’d have to be in class, and not just any class. Professor Wesham’s Intermediate Music Theory course was taught at 8am sharp every morning five days a week. Professor Wesham was a rather vile man with a love for discipline, trick questions, and embarrassing his students in front of the rest of the class. He had no interest in being a professor and mentioned that at any moment he saw fit. Rather, he believed that music theory was a subject that very few could teach correctly, and so it was his duty as a musician to impart those teachings upon young students, no matter how much he hated it. If you could have you would have dropped his class after the first week, but for a degree in music performance, all levels of theory were required.

You looked over at the clock again. 

7:02 AM

C’mon Y/N, gonna have to get up sooner or later. 

With quite a bit of effort, you finally pulled yourself up and out of bed and into the first pair of jeans you saw lying on the floor. 

(1)

____

“...so when we’re looking to find a mode of a scale we can look to the intervals for the answers. Each mode has its own unique combination of whole tones and semitones, so if you know the patterns you can accurately alter the scale…”

As expected, class that morning was hellish. A thirty-minute lecture on the basics of modes followed by another twenty minutes of history and you found yourself slowly drifting back to sleep. Your thoughts were soon taken over by memories of being curled up in bed this morning and fantasies of what you would be eating for lunch in a few hours. 

Maybe spaghetti? Or soup? I could really go for soup today. With luck they’ll have that creamy tomato one that I love down at the cafe...

“Miss Y/L/N?!” Professor Wesham’s voice rang out through the lecture hall  

Shit.

“Miss Y/L/N I asked you a question, but it appears as though you can’t be bothered to pay attention to what I’m saying this morning. Have you heard a word of what I’ve said?” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. 

“That’s what I thought. Can anyone else answer my question? Anyone at all? Or are you all just going to sit there and stare at me like a bunch of deadbeats?!” 

Silence filled the hall and for a moment it seemed as though he was about to give up and move on when suddenly he yelled,

“Susie! What is the C Mixolydian scale?”

From the back of the hall, a faint voice answered, 

“It’s the 5th mode of the F major scale, it follows the Mixolydian interval pattern of whole whole semi whole whole semi whole, and the notes are C D E F G A and B flat.” 

“Correct.”

And with that, he moved on forward with the lesson. 

I could have answered that, you thought to yourself, all the bastard needed to do was repeat himself.

You sighed and silently took notes for the rest of the period. 

When class let out you made a beeline for the door, hurrying out of the building and down towards the green commons in front. You didn’t stop walking until you saw the sign for The Cafe. Located right in the center of the music department, The Cafe was your go-to spot. Coffee and pastries in the mornings, sandwiches and soup for lunch, and full-on dinner seven nights a week. Although technically open to the general public, the music students at Ealing had claimed the place for themselves long ago, and you had never seen it empty in your entire time at the college. Today was no exception. You pushed your way in and headed straight for the counter to order. 

“One creamy tomato soup please,” you said to the woman at the counter, and with your table number in hand, you found a small booth in the corner and collapsed into it. 

It had been a particularly difficult week for you. The new term just started a few weeks ago and already your professors were piling on work. Theory worksheets, composition assignments, and three new solos had all been handed to you in the past few weeks, and it wouldn’t have been so bad if you didn’t also have a job that demanded long shifts late at night. You worked at Selmer’s, the music store in town and, due to your schedule, almost exclusively worked the night shifts from  6 until closing at midnight. It wasn’t a bad gig by any means, in fact you really liked working there. You never knew who would walk through the door. One moment it would be a broke uni student popping in to buy new guitar strings and the next it could be a famous musician like Pete Townshend. Okay so maybe not Pete Townshend, but you had once sold Jim McCarty a set of drumsticks. It was your one claim to fame. 

As you ate your soup you enjoyably became lost in your own thoughts, so much so that you didn’t notice when someone sat down across from you. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” 

The voice of your best friend Freddie interrupted your quiet contemplation. You loved him to death but sometimes he really had the worst timing. 

The story of how you two met was actually quite funny. It was back in September of last year, the beginning of your first year of uni. The night before classes were set to start you had gone to a party and somehow ended up right in the middle of a game of truth or dare, only the rules had been altered slightly so that anyone who chose truth also had to take a shot. Being the relatively shy person that you were, you hadn’t taken many dares and as a result found yourself to be rather drunk. 

“Alright c’mon Y/N,” said a guy named Greg (he was in your year and studying music as well) “you can’t pick truth forever.”

“Ok fine, dare”

“I dare you,” Greg continued, “to make out with Freddie.” He gestured to a man who appeared to be just as drunk as you were sitting across the circle. He laughed and said, 

“Whenever you’re ready darling, I’ll just be over here waiting.” With a roll of your eyes toward Greg, you had crawled your way across the circle, straddled Freddie’s lap, and started to viciously make out with him to the best of your abilities in your drunken state. 

The next morning you had woken up wickedly hungover and as you walked down the street to find something for breakfast you had bumped into none other than Freddie from the night before. He had laughed at the state of both of you (“we need to make sure that neither one of us ever drinks that much again!”) and offered to take you out to breakfast and the rest was history. It was definitely an odd way to start a friendship, but you two found that you just clicked together. His outspoken nature balanced out your tendencies to sink back into the shadows, and your level-headedness counteracted his love of making decisions on a whim. It really was, at least you two thought so, the perfect friendship. 

“Hello? Y/N? Is anyone home in there?” Freddie continued as you looked up from your food. 

“Hey Fred,” you said, coming to terms with the fact that your time for quiet contemplation was over. “What brings you down here? I thought you had a class way at the other end of campus this morning.” 

“I did. And then I decided that I was feeling a bit peckish and could go for a bowl of The Cafe’s famous tomato soup, even if it is all the way on the other side of school. But this worked out perfectly, me running into you here, because I have something important to tell you!” 

He dramatically reached his hands out and motioned for you to take them in yours. 

“You know I have been following this band called Smile around for ages.” 

You nodded.

“And you know I’ve been begging you to come out and see one of their shows with me” 

Once again you nodded. At least once a month (if not more) Freddie would try and drag you along to one of their shows despite your efforts to tell him that rock concerts really weren’t your thing. 

“Well recently I’ve started to hang around with them properly, them being the band, and we’ve become rather close. You and I both know Tim of course but it’s the other band members that I’ve really started to click with. We’re even talking about getting a flat together. They still won’t let me sing in the band, but that’s an issue for another day. What I need to tell you is that they’re playing a free gig tomorrow night right here at Ealing and you and I are both going!”

You opened your mouth to protest but Freddie kept talking. 

“And don’t even try to get out of this one. I know for a fact that on Tuesdays you only work until 7, and I also know that you don’t have plans afterward because yesterday on the phone you expressed to me just how boring your week was going to be. So unless within the last 24 hours you have made plans to go out late on a Tuesday night after work, you have no excuse not to go with me to this.” 

You stared back at him in disbelief. 

“Alright Fred, you got me fair and square. I will go with you tomorrow,”

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, “I’ll be at Selmer’s to pick you up from work at 7 PM sharp tomorrow. Oh, this is going to be so fun!” 

“Sounds like a plan,” and then you added, “And just because I’m going this time it doesn’t mean you’ll get me to go next time.” 

“Fair enough,” Freddie said, “but you’re going to have so much fun tomorrow night that I won’t even have to ask you to go with me again.” 

And with that he sprung up and made his way over to the counter to order some food, leaving you alone to wonder what on earth you had gotten yourself into. 

——

The store was surprisingly slow for a Tuesday evening. Two hours into your shift and only three people had come in, and all within ten minutes of each other. To kill time you had started reorganizing the reed display, but quickly lost interest and for the past hour and a half you had simply been sitting behind the counter, listening to the old rock n roll music that played in the background, and thinking about nothing in particular. 

(2) 

🎵Without her I will be in misery (oh oh oh)

In misery (ooh ooh ooh)

My misery (la la la la la la) 🎵 

As the song came to a close you heard the bell over the door jingle, alerting you that someone had just walked through the door. You craned your neck around the counter to see a guy with long dirty blond hair looking around frantically as though he had lost something. 

“Hi,” you said, “Welcome to Selmer’s, can I help you find anyth-“

“Guitar strings!” he nearly shouted, “I need guitar strings!” 

“Okay,” you said slowly, “do you have any idea as to which type of strings?” 

“Oh shit...uh, I don’t know. The normal kind I guess? I just need strings!” he once again looked around frantically, eyes finally settling on the clock on the wall behind you. “Shit! I’m so going to be late!” 

“Ok slow down a second,” you said calmly, “what’s all the hurry about? What, are you about to go onstage any second now?” You had meant it as a joke but to your surprise, he screamed, 

“Yes!” 

“Oh shit sorry I didn’t actually think you were- ok, um, so you don’t know the type of string but do you know what model the guitar is?”

“It’s uh...oh dammit I don’t know.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but what kind of guitarist doesn’t know the kind of guitar they play?” 

“I’m not the guitarist,” he said, “I’m the drummer. Our guitarist broke a string like ten minutes ago so I ran out to grab him more while he helped the rest of our band keep setting up.”

“Ah, I see,” you said. “Well since you don’t know which kinds of strings he uses I’ll just give you some Fender 12 gauges. They’re pretty standard, I’ve got a lot of people who use them so hopefully that should be ok.” 

“Yeah, those should be alright.”

You rang up the package and handed it to him. 

“Thank you so much, you just saved our show.”

“My pleasure,” you said as you handed him the strings, “I hope these will work out for you guys tonight, and if not, well then you didn’t buy them here.” 

He laughed at your comment. 

“You’re funny,” he said. “Normally I would stay around and chat, maybe ask for your number, but I do kind of have to be going or else my bandmates will have my head on a spike. But it was great to meet you…uh….”

“Y/N,” you answered his unspoken question. 

“Great to meet you Y/N, I’m Roger.” Is all he said before turning on his heel and sauntering out through the doorway. You could tell he was trying to maintain a cool, laid back composure despite having burst through your door in a panic not ten minutes prior. You laughed to yourself, wondering if you would ever see him again. 

Looking at the clock you saw that it was eight till 7. Freddie would be here any minute. You got right to work closing up the store for the night. You were right in the middle of locking the window display cases when once again you heard the bell over the door ring. 

“Hello darling I hope you’re ready for a concert!” Freddie’s melodious voice sang out. 

“Hey Fred, just give me two more minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” you replied. 

“I have been absolutely restless all day today thinking about tonight,” Freddie continued, “We are going to have so much fun!” 

He made his way over to the counter and leaned against it, facing your back. “I really think you’re going to like their music,” he continued, “they’ve got a very real sound, none of that formulaic clean-cut bullshit.”

“I told you, Freddie,” you said, turning around to face him, “I make no promises as to whether or not I’ll like them. But they do sound quite lovely from the way you describe them.” 

With that, you shut off all the lights, lock up the doors, and the two of you were on your way. 

____

The concert was being held in the student center at Ealing, right in the middle of the campus. On a normal day the large open room was typically used for fundraisers, game nights, and a variety of other student-run activities, but every now and then the school would allow bands to put on shows. As you walked through the door you were immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people packed into the room. All the tables and chairs had been pushed to the sides making it so it was barely possible to sit down, though there were a few people who had managed to squeeze themselves into a seat. You were about to follow their lead, your eyes fixed on an empty table close to the back, but Freddie grabbed you by the arm and pulled you both up to the very front. 

“Do we really have to be this close, Fred? I can hear just as well from back there,” you said, gesturing towards the table you had so lovingly had your eye on. 

“Darling we’re seeing a rock concert, not the symphony, it’s not just about being able to hear them. Watching them play and being right up in the middle of things is all part of the experience.” 

You looked at him rather quizzically. 

“Alright, but if I get my ears blown out tonight it’s your fault.”

“That’s the spirit! Now I’m going to go and get us both something to drink. I’ll be right back.” 

As you watched your friend disappear into the crowd of students you turned to focus your attention on the stage in front of you.  They had taken the small stage that permanently stayed in the back of the student center and never usually saw anything more exciting than experimental theater pieces put on by the drama students, and had completely transformed it into something out of a whimsical fever dream. Brightly colored metallic fabrics had been draped over the dingy, dust-filled curtain that hung behind the stage. In the center of the stage sat a drum kit with a giant red-lipped smile on the bass drum. To the side, there were two guitars on stands, a pretty standard bass guitar, which you recognized as Tim’s, and a guitar which you had never seen the likes of before. It was a bright cherry red color with a black pickguard and it was oddly round in shape. You had been working at a well-stocked music store for nearly two years now and had never seen any guitar that remotely resembled it before. To top it all off you saw that they had covered the lights facing the stage with different colored translucent films, further adding to the whimsical ambiance. 

You know, this actually seems like it’s going to be a lot of fun. Dammit, Fred, why’d you have to be right. 

You shook your head to yourself and began to look around to see if you could see Freddie anywhere when suddenly everyone started clapping. 

The band was making its way onstage. On bass, there was Tim Staffell. He went to Ealing, studying graphic design, and was a good friend of Freddie’s. The three of you often went out together for drinks. You then looked over to see the man behind the drum kit and couldn’t believe what you saw. Sitting there was Roger, the guy you had sold guitar strings to mere hours ago. 

“Ha!” You said aloud.

“What’s so funny?” Interjected Freddie, who had just appeared next to you holding two beers. 

“I know the drummer,” you said. 

“You know Roger?”

“Yeah,” you continue, chuckling, “I sold him guitar strings a few hours ago. He was in a right panic about it. Apparently, their guitarist broke one earlier and didn’t have any extras on hand.”

“Brian didn’t have any extra strings on him? That must have really caused a panic, I don’t think Brian has ever forgotten anything in his entire life.” 

“I’m assuming Brian is the guitarist?”

“Yeah, and he’s bloody brilliant at it. There he is right there.” Freddie pointed to the man standing on the right of the stage. He was incredibly tall and lanky, with a head full of unruly curly brown hair and deep brown eyes. He was wearing black pinstriped trousers and a white top which he had accessorized with the most interesting looking fuzzy vest. He exuded the most peculiar combination of confidence and recluse, and as he stood there fiddling with his guitar you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. 

You turned to say something to Freddie, but before you could get any words out Tim had started talking into the microphone. 

“Hello Ealing!” He shouted. He was met with a resounding chorus of cheers and whoops from the crowd. “We are Smile!” More cheers. “You all know me, I’m Tim Staffell, over there on guitar we have Brian May, and back there on the drums is Roger Taylor. We’ve got a good set for you tonight, all originals except for a few, and we’re going to start with a song called Step On Me.” 

At once they struck up an upbeat tune and it didn’t take long for the audience to start dancing and singing along with them. 

(3)

🎵Know what I said when I saw you crying

Hang on that’s folly

I was weak in the head out to meet your lying

You’re just a bad memory 

My life was going to be better

My why did I never ever see she’d step on me🎵

As you listened to them sing you couldn’t help but nod and dance along with the rest of the audience. Fred was right again, they really did have a sound the likes of which you had never heard before. Not only were their harmonies perfectly in tune, but they had an almost angelic quality to them that pulled you in, wanting to hear more. 

“Well now look who’s actually having a good time,” Freddie said to you as they finished their first song. I knew you would like them. 

“They really are something else,” you said, “although I would probably like them even more if I weren’t surrounded by so many people right now.” 

Freddie laughed. 

“I guess I’ll have to talk to Tim about getting you a private show then.”  

They went from song to song, each one more enjoyable than the last, and while you tried to keep your attention from wavering, you kept finding yourself drawn to Brian the guitarist. Freddie hadn’t been lying when he said that Brian was bloody brilliant at what he did. You watched him easily play his way through several guitar solos, making them sound effortless, though with your musical knowledge (and by the look on his face) you could tell that they were anything but that. He played with a look of concentration on his face, never wavering except for the few times he looked up and out into the crowd. It was then, you noticed, that a small smile would cross his face. 

All too soon Tim was at the microphone again, announcing that this would be their last song. You felt as if you could continue to listen to their music for hours and wished to yourself that the show wasn’t over yet. 

“You all have been such a great crowd tonight,” Tim went on, “and so to finish we’re going to be bringing you everyone’s favorite: Doing Alright!” 

If you thought you had liked the songs they had played the rest of the night, then you loved this one. It started out with a slow ballad, complete with more complex guitar work, but as it went on it morphed into hard rock with grit and feeling. You thought the juxtaposition of the two styles was a daring choice seeing as it would be easy to mess up, but they did it with such grace and style so that it completely worked. When the song finally came to a close and the band took their bows you joined in with the thunderous applause and cheering. 

“Fred, I’ve got to say it: I really did enjoy myself tonight. It was a little loud and crowded for my liking but I think the music and the show were able to make up for it, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll come with you again.”

“Oh that’s wonderful darling! I knew tonight was going to be a success. But it’s not quite over yet.”

“No?”

“Of course not! You didn’t think you were going to get away without meeting the band, also known as my new friends. C’mon, they’re probably around somewhere outside packing up.”

You and Freddie fought your way through the crowds of students to get to the door and out into the night air. As Freddie had said, you found Tim and Roger sitting on the back of a van which you could see was full up of their equipment. Brian was nowhere in sight. 

“Freddie! So glad you could make it!” Exclaimed Roger, standing up. “And,” he turned to you, “I don’t believe it. Y/N from the music store, why on earth didn’t you tell me you were coming to the show tonight?” 

“Mostly because I had no idea this was your band,” you replied, laughing. “Freddie here has been after me to see and meet you guys for ages.” 

“And,” said Roger, “what do you think?”

“Coming from someone who doesn’t tend to enjoy rock concerts, I thought you guys were wonderful. I did not expect to enjoy myself tonight as much as I did. I think you’ve really got something special here.”

“You flatter us too much,” said Tim, “if you keep talking like that we’re all gonna get big heads. And Roger’s is big enough as is.”

“Hey!” said Roger, but he smiled. 

“So,” you continue, “Freddie said you guys are thinking about getting a flat together?”

“Yeah, Brian and I found this place up the road a little, Brian’s our guitarist by the way,” said Roger. 

At the mention of his name, you could feel your heart flutter slightly in your chest.

“Freddie mentioned him,” you said, “Did the strings end up working out for him?”

“I thought they were fine, but Bri gets particular about these things. I guess they were the wrong brand or gauge or something like that. He kept going on about how he was going to sound awful tonight and his sound was going to be too abrasive.”

“Well yes, different strings are going to give you different sounds and I don’t know what he usually uses, but you guys sounded just great to me.”

Part of you desperately wanted to ask where he was right now, but you decided against it. 

Against your better judgment, you had let Freddie convince you to stay around and talk with him, Tim, and Roger for a while longer. In that time you learned that Roger was studying to be a dentist at London Hospital Medical School, and Brian was over at the Imperial College studying, as Roger put it, “some sort of space physics.” 

“He’s real into all that,” Roger continued, “but I can’t say the same for myself. I get good marks and all that, professors think I have a lot of ‘promise’, whatever that means, but a dentist for the rest of my life? I’m not sure I could handle that. Nah, I’m hoping to stay in rock n roll for as long as I can. What about you? You’re over at Ealing with Fred and Tim, right? Are you another graphic design nerd like these guys?”

“No, music actually. Nothing like what you guys do,” you added, seeing Roger’s face light up, “classical repertoire mostly. I play the flute.”

“You any good?”

“I suppose that’s a matter of opinion. Personally, I tend to think I’m shit, but you ask any music student and they’ll tell you the same thing.”

“Oh don’t be like that, Y/N,” interjected Freddie, “she’s bloody marvelous. She can play you Bach like you’ve never heard before, although Roger I don’t think you have ever heard it before.”

“Oh come off it, I’ve heard my fair share of the classical stuff.”

“Yes, next time you go to the symphony be sure to refer to it as ‘the classical stuff’ I’m sure you won’t get any funny looks at all.”

You and Tim howled with laughter at Freddie’s comment while Roger gave him a good punch in the shoulder. 

“Dear god, look at the time,” you said a moment later after having glanced at your watch. “Is it really two thirty in the morning?!”

“I suppose it is,” said Tim, “sure hasn’t felt that long.”

“I’ve really got to be going then,” you said.

“Aw c’mon stay out for a little longer with us,” said Tim, “Fred and I hardly get to see you anymore.”

“I know, and I wish that I could, but I’ve got class at 8 tomorrow morning and I should at least try to get some sleep.”

“Oh alright go on, we know you’re right,” said Freddie, “I should probably be going myself, I am quite exhausted.”

“See ya later Fred,” said Roger, “great to see you again, Y/N. You should come round to the flat once we get it, we’d all love to see you again and you can meet Brian as well.”

The flutter was back. 

“I definitely will,” you replied before giving them all a wave and starting back to your own flat.