#someone stop me now before i gif this short film for the rest of eternity

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[kmikaelsonimagines]

The 1: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: The 1 please xx

I didn’t realise until I read over this, but there’s a bit of me in this one, in that what Kol feels is very similar to my own experiences. If you guys ever need to talk about anything similar to the content in this imagine, please don’t hesitate to pop me a message. Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x 

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

The 1

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit Been saying "yes" instead of "no" I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

Kol had been doing well for the first time since it happened. It had only taken a few months, but he was finally beginning to feel some level of peace. He knew that he would never be the person he was again, never feel entirely complete, not after what had happened, but he was starting to feel almost contented.

It was what she would have wanted, always moaning at him for being too moody whenever things didn’t go quite the way he wanted them to. He smiled at the memory, seeing her faint outline standing in front of him.

It wasn’t really her, he knew that, but it was better than nothing. Better than being alone with his thoughts, better than letting himself spiral into a deep dark void where he was reminded of all his mistakes, self-loathing swallowing him up.

He refused to let that happen, not again, knowing that if he fell down that hole again, there would be no-one to help him out of it. No-one had the first time, after all, his family either hiding and pretending it didn’t happen, or threatening him if he stepped a foot out of line.

It was why he had left Mystic Falls, not being able to face them, not that they would have missed him.

But now a few months on, he realised that he needed to go back. He took a breath before opening the front door, stepping into the house where it happened.

The house where Y/N had died.

I hit the ground running each night I hit the Sunday matinée You know the greatest films of all time were never made

The first thing he saw was the book on the armchair. Spine broken, pages old and worn, leather bookmark sticking out of them. He knew that book, knew its smell, its touch, the way it made the reader smile.  

It was Y/N’s, something he had obviously left behind when he had taken her things and moved them out of the Mikaelson mansion. Someone was reading it, and as Kol inhaled its scent, hoping that Y/N’s had lingered, he felt anger bubble up as hers was swallowed by that of his older brother.  

Elijah.  

Kol tried to drown out the image of his sibling with one of Y/N, of her telling him just how this was the greatest book of all time, how a film should be made out of it. He had promised her that one day, when that movie was made, he would take her to see it on a Sunday afternoon, and she had smiled, her eyes lighting up as she kissed his cheek.  

Kol pulled the bookmark out of the pages, and pocketed the book. He would take it home with him when he was done here and leave Elijah with the ever damning thought that he would never find out what happened at the end of the novel.   

Just like Y/N would never see that movie. I guess you never know, never know And if you wanted me, you really should've showed And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow And it's alright now

“You’re back.” Kol was snapped out of his thoughts of Y/N by the voice of his sister. Turning, he looked at Rebekah, her eyes so full of sadness and hope that maybe her brother would stay this time.

“Not for long. Just need to pick up some things, and then I’ll be gone.” His words were clipped, and he turned his back on his sister as he walked towards where his bedroom was. No, not his bedroom. Their bedroom. His and Y/N’s.

“Kol.”

“What, Rebekah? What could you possibly want?”

“How are you?”

Kol shook his head. He knew his sister cared, knew that she was trying. But it was too little, too late. If she wanted him to stay in the first place, then maybe she should have tried a little harder all those months ago. Maybe she shouldn’t have sided with Klaus when Kol went on a bloody rampage out of grief, his hybrid brother threatening to dagger him again.

Fucking hypocrite. How many people had died at Klaus’s hands after he had lost someone?

But Kol didn’t say any of that. “Fine.”

He opened up the wardrobe, trying not to look at the bed where he and Y/N had slept.

But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

Kol knew Rebekah was still standing there, watching him as he ran his fingers over Y/N’s clothes. Unlike the book that still rested in his pocket, her scent still lingered, and he resisted the urge to cover himself in it, to wrap each dress, each t-shirt, each jacket around his body.

If he did that, he was sure he would break down, and all his progress would be for nothing.

His gaze turned to a black dress, short feathered sleeves between his fingers as he remembered the day Y/N had worn it. It had been her birthday, he forgot which one, but he remembered how she had leaned over the railings surrounding the pond in the park.

He remembered how she had pulled coins out of her purse and given one to him.

“Make a wish, Kol.”

“You know we could just do this with magic.”

She’d pushed him playfully. “Just throw it in. You can’t tell me your wish otherwise it won’t come true.”

She had said that he couldn’t tell her. It hadn’t stopped him from showing her that night, pushing the dress off her shoulders and her body into the bed behind him.

Kol took the clothes off the hangers and packed them into the box he had brought with him.

And if my wishes came true It would've been you

“Kol, can you just talk to me? Please.”

Kol walked past his sister with that box of Y/N’s clothes, pretending as if she wasn’t there. He hadn’t forgiven her for what had happened those months ago, for siding with his brothers, for acting like Y/N hadn’t even lived in the house.

Kol hadn’t stopped blaming himself for what had happened to her. If only he hadn’t shown her his wish, maybe she would have still been alive. If only he hadn’t whispered it onto her skin, maybe he wouldn’t have had to bury her.

If his wish had come true, Y/N would still be here. If his wish had come true, Kol and Y/N would have been spending the rest of eternity together.

He surveyed the room, patting his pocket to check that her book was still there. It seemed he had everything he needed. Except-

There was a dagger at his back, the point digging into his skin through his coat. He froze, a familiar chill creeping over him. It had been Klaus last time, it had been Klaus almost every time.

He had never thought it would be his sister, never thought it would be Rebekah threatening him.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you to listen.”

In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone

Kol’s anger grew as Rebekah spoke, and he tried ridiculously hard not to snap.

“I know you’re upset with us, but we’re your family Kol. We were hurting too. We miss her too.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” His voice was flat as he tried to remain calm, tried to keep his defenses up, the way Y/N would want him to. “Are you going to put that bloody dagger down?”

“Not until you agree to forgive us.”

That was it. That was the moment Kol snapped, his rage pouring over him in waves.

“Forgive you? Forgive this family? You must be joking. You’re the reason she’s dead. Klaus thought the best idea would be to put me away, Elijah won’t even show his face, and you’re swanning around in one of her dresses. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I can’t forgive you when you won’t even acknowledge that she’s dead, and that it’s your fault, because this bloody family is too damn obsessed with pride and power, and can never leave things alone.”

“But we’re family, Kol.”

Hearing in Rebekah’s voice that she was off guard, Kol turned and gripped the blade in his hand, yanking it away from his sister. “No, we’re not. Y/N was my family, and you all took that away from me.”

He dropped the knife to the floor and left the house.

But it would've been fun If you would've been the one

Once back in his car, Kol put the box full of Y/N’s clothes on the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel so tightly he thought his knuckles would protrude from his skin. He wanted to scream, but knew that once he did that, it would attract attention and that was the last thing he wanted.

So he took deep breaths, trying desperately to steady himself before he drove home. Whatever home was anymore.

He remembered the book in his pocket, and pulled it out so as not to damage it whilst he drove. He fingered the pages, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he remembered Y/N’s words.

“You’d like it if you just read it, Kol.”

“I’ll wait for the movie.”

Kol smiled, tears welling in his eyes. If there was ever a time to read Y/N’s favourite book, it was now. He opened it up and his breath caught at what was scrawled onto the front page.

Kol,

If you’re reading this, it means you’ve finally listened to my advice.

I love you, and just so you know, you’ve always been the one for me.

Y/N xxx

Kol lifted the book up to his nose, and there it was, the last lingering trace of her scent. He inhaled it, breathing in all he had left of his Y/N.

Kol had been doing well for the first time since it happened. It had only taken a few months, but he was finally beginning to feel some level of peace. He knew that he would never be the person he was again, never feel entirely complete, not after what had happened, but he was starting to feel almost contented.

None of that stopped him from placing his forehead on the steering wheel and crying until his throat was raw.

None of that stopped him from mourning Y/N, the woman who should have been the one.

Masterlist

Folklore Masterlist

[omgrachwrites]

Our Souls Crave This Magic - Chapter Four

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Reader

Summary: All you want is a quiet year of university as you and your best friend, Edmund move to New York City. Though, that all changes when you meet the spoiled trust fund brat, Caspian. College au.

Warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst, enemies to lovers

Words: 2724

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me, all characters are 18+

A/N: If you guys are reading this on your desktop then I’m sorry for the small gif! Hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think, let me know if you want to be tagged also, I love you all! xxx

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Chapter Four - Pretty Boy

Caspian made his way through to the living room of his high rise apartment that his parents had bought for him. The gorgeous city glittered like multi coloured jewels outside of the expansive ceiling to floor windows. The whole apartment reeked of old money, which was part of the reason why he spent so much time at Ed’s loft apartment. He’d never invited Ed back here – Ed didn’t seem to mind – he was worried that Ed would start to share the same views as Y/N.

The friends that Caspian had known for years were sitting on the plush sofa, dressed up for a night out as they balanced tumblers of whiskey in their hands. Caspian remembered that they were going to a fairly new bar on the Upper East Side, a bar that had about a month waiting list. One of Caspian’s friends’, Eli turned to Caspian with a smile as he nodded to a glass of whiskey on the coffee table in front of him.

“That one is yours; you’re still coming, aren’t you?” Eli asked taking a sip of his whiskey as Caspian shrugged on his jacket.

Caspian bit his lip and shook his head, “something’s come up, something that I need to sort out immediately. I should have sorted it by now, actually,” he muttered more to himself, “I’ll meet you guys there, alright? My name will be on the list, won’t it?”

Eli nodded as he looked at Caspian with disappointed eyes while the rest of his friends sneered at him. He had known that his friends would be disappointed but it still stung, “fine, see you later,” Eli said in a harsh voice, mumbling as Caspian reached the door, “it’s not like we’ve been planning this for over a month or anything.”

Caspian sighed as he walked out into the cold night air as he quickly hailed a cab to take him to Brooklyn. Caspian wished that he was anywhere but here as he pushed past the people smoking outside of the bar but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He needed Y/N’s help, only she could help him.

The loud music pounded in his skull, was it always busy in this damned bar? He spotted Y/N leaning on the bar, talking to one of her customers, her face lighting up as she laughed and fiddled with her hoop earrings. She looked really pretty in a band tee and ripped denim shorts, she looked like someone from a magazine. Caspian thought that he should really stop staring; he didn’t want to come off as a weirdo.

Clearing his throat, Caspian made his way to the bar, awkwardly passing a couple who were making out against the pool table. As soon as Y/N glanced in his direction, the easy smile slipped from her face as she stood up straight, mumbling something to the customer that she had been previously talking to. Raising an eyebrow, she walked over to Caspian, folding her arms as she stood with her back against the back bar, crossing one leg over the other.

“I never thought that I’d see you in here again, especially not on your own. Are you lost or something?” she said, sounding very disinterested as she picked at her red polished nails.

Caspian grimaced at her, feeling a bitter pang in his chest, “trust me, I never wanted to come into this shithole ever again.”

Y/N glared at him as she glanced over at him, her lip curling, “so, why are you here? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need to talk to you about something, privately. Is there somewhere that we can go?”

Y/N rolled her eyes as she looked down at her watch, “I’ve got a break in about five minutes, you had better not waste my time,” she sighed, biting her lip, “I’ll make you something while you wait,” she offered him a small smile before she began mixing him a drink.

Caspian watched, mesmerised as she effortlessly tossed the cocktail shaker into the air and then caught it with one hand. Caspian supposed that she was just showing off but it was so cool that he almost didn’t mind. In no time at all, Y/N smirked over at him as she slid the whiskey cocktail towards him. Caspian picked it up and took a tentative little sip, it was amazing. The rich caramel flavours danced along his tongue and it pleasantly warmed his insides as it smoothly slid down his throat.

“It’s good,” he gave her a grin and her smirk almost seemed to falter.

“I know,” she laughed, “it’s on the house, by the way,” she flounced off before Caspian had the chance to object.

Caspian looked around at the other patrons as he sipped his drink and waited for Y/N, everyone seemed to be really rowdy but he noticed that they were all smiling and having a lot of fun. They all had real smiles on their faces, not fake ones that Caspian had to plaster onto his face sometimes, he almost envied them. He felt fingers tug at his hair lightly that he almost groaned before quickly remembering where he was with a flush.

A voice cooed in his ear, “are you ready, pretty boy?” Y/N smirked as she nodded her head in the direction of the back door.

Caspian swallowed and got off his bar stool and followed her through the bar, aware of all the male attention that was focused on Y/N. Y/N stiffened and Caspian could tell that she felt uncomfortable. He suddenly felt protective as he glared at all the wandering eyes; he was ready to step in if things got out of hand.

As the pair got out into the fresh air, Y/N let out a relieved breath as she leaned against the brick wall as she shakily got out a cigarette. For a moment, Caspian saw a smidge of vulnerability that she usually hid behind her snarky attitude.

“Are the men always like that?” Caspian asked sympathetically.

Y/N nodded as she lit up her cigarette, “pretty much, I was thinking of putting on some jeans for tonight but I really like these shorts.”

Caspian felt angry on her behalf, “you don’t have to change what you’re wearing because of stupid men. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I appreciate it,” she blew out a curl of smoke, “so, what did you want, pretty boy?” she was obviously feeling more comfortable because her snarky attitude was back.

“Right,” Caspian had nearly forgotten why he was at Aslan’s tonight, “so, um. I have this family wedding to go to in a couple of weeks,” he finished lamely.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow as she laughed around the end of her cigarette, “um, I don’t know what to say, congratulations, I guess?” it came out as more of a question.

Caspian felt frustrated as he ran his fingers through his hair, why was it so hard to talk to her sometimes?

“It’s a family friend’s wedding, and I kind of need a date,” he bit his lip, “a fake date,” he added and she looked up at him in alarm when it dawned on her and her mouth dropped open slightly.

“Are you crazy?! No! Absolutely not, no,” she hissed, shivering slightly in the cold night air, Caspian slipped off his jacket and offered it to her which she refused with a shake of her head, “and they say that chivalry is dead,” she teased.

“Please come with me, Y/N?” she was the only one who could go with him, he knew that she wouldn’t want anything more, “my parents aren’t expecting me to bring anyone and I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of being right about me, please, Y/N,” he pouted.

“Why me?” she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, “I’m sure that any girl would jump at the chance, so why ask me?”

“Because, you don’t like me, I know that you don’t want anything to happen between us, so there won’t be any misunderstandings.”

Y/N nodded, “I guess that’s true,” she sighed, tapping a nail against her chin, “if I say yes, will I have to act all posh?”

Caspian frowned and shook his head, he would never make her act differently, “no, of course not! There’s an open bar by the way,” he smirked.

Y/N bit her lip, looking conflicted before she threw up her hands, “fine, I’ll go with you, only for the open bar.”

Caspian grinned, feeling so relieved and he threw caution to the wind as he pulled her into a hug, the scent of her sweet perfume had mixed with the cigarette smoke and it made Caspian feel light headed, “thank you!”

Y/N laughed as she patted him on the back, “don’t mention it,” she pulled away from him and nodded at his empty glass, “want another?”

Caspian bit his lip, he did want another one but he remembered the promise that he’d made to his friends, “I can’t, I’m meeting my friends in a bar on the Upper East Side.”

Y/N nodded as she flicked away the butt of her cigarette, her face becoming stoic and closed off, “of course you are,” her snarky attitude was back in full force and Caspian noticed that her eyes had hardened.

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Tonight had been a very confusing night, in more ways than one, firstly Caspian had asked you to be his fake date for his friend’s wedding, and secondly, you had actually accepted his invitation. Though, it was only for the open bar. You were eternally grateful that it was only one date, you couldn’t imagine going on more fake dates with him. You wondered what his parents were like, they were probably awful.

You got quite a scare as you unlocked the door to the loft and walked into the living room to see Lucy’s face glowing from her laptop light, it was like something out of a horror film, “jesus, Lu! What are you doing up at this time?”

She grimaced at you as she lowered the lid of her laptop, “working on an English paper, I would have done it in my room but I would have given up ages ago if I was tucked up in bed,” she laughed before taking a proper look at you as you threw your keys into the bowl by the door, “what happened to you?”

You bit your lip as you got a bottle of water out of the fridge, “Caspian asked me to be his fake date for his friend’s wedding, and I accepted,” you still couldn’t believe it, you were willingly going to be spending more time with a man that you couldn’t stand.

A grin spread across Lucy’s face as she gasped and clapped her hands, looking very excited, “this is amazing! Do you have anything suitable to wear?” before you could even open your mouth, she shook her head, “no of course you don’t what am I saying? I love your style, Y/N but it’s not really wedding friendly,” she laughed, looking over at you fondly, “we’ll have a look at what’s in your wardrobe in the morning.”

You shot her an amused glance; you were far too tired to argue, “fine, that’s fine. Goodnight, Lu. Try and get some sleep sometime this year.”

“Night, Y/N,” Lucy laughed and you could still hear the excitement in her voice.

You sat cross legged on your bed, eating a chocolate pancake and drinking some orange juice, watching as Lucy stood in front of your bed with her hands on her hips, looking at the choice of dresses. She ran her hand over a lace one that was pretty but the dark colour wasn’t really suitable for a wedding. You still wanted to look appropriate; you didn’t want to stand out like a sore thumb.

“Are these all the dresses you have?” Lucy asked with a sigh and you nodded as you put your empty plate on your bedside table.

“You know it is, Lu,” you yawned, Lucy had woken you up at the crack of dawn so you could both go through your wardrobe; she was acting like a kid at Christmas.

She sighed, shaking her head, “I don’t think that we can really make any of these work sweetie, want to go on a proper New York shopping spree?” she asked and you had to admit that it sounded like a good idea.

“Today?” you asked, biting your lip as Lucy nodded, “fine,” you laughed, getting up off your insanely comfortable bed, “let me get in the shower first.”

Lucy nodded with a beaming grin as she squealed, “okay! I’ll meet you downstairs when you’re ready! I hope it won’t be too busy on a Sunday.”

You huffed out a laugh as you started the shower so the water could warm up, it was New York, no matter what day of the week it was, it would always be busy. While your tired muscles relaxed under the spray of the hot water, your mind went racing. You wondered why you were so bothered about what you were going to wear to this damned wedding. Maybe you didn’t want to give Caspian’s parents the satisfaction of knowing that you weren’t good enough. Maybe you had something to prove. One thing was certain; you definitely weren’t dressing up for Caspian. After a leisurely shower, you got out, shivering in the cold air as you blow dried your hair and got dressed before taking your dishes into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well,” you laughed when you saw who was in the kitchen, “you’re here again, don’t you have your own place?” you smirked at Caspian as you stole a piece of toast off Ed’s plate, kissing him on the cheek when he exclaimed.

Caspian narrowed his eyes at you as he took a sip of his drink, “I do have my own place, but I come over just to annoy you, Y/N,” he laughed, playful scorn spread across his handsome face.

“Sounds about right,” you mumbled, taking a bite out of the crispy toast.

Ed looked between you and Lucy, “what are you guys up to today? Does it have anything to do why Lucy looks like Christmas has come early?”

You glanced at Caspian who was looking at the both of you with interest, a slight smirk on his face but before you could answer, Lucy was already speaking up, “Y/N’s been invited to a wedding,” she shot a meaningful look at Caspian, “we’re going to go shopping for an outfit. Speaking of which, we’d better get going.”

Ed nodded as he shrugged and went back to his food, as you walked up to the door with Lucy, Caspian caught up with you, “Y/N,” he trailed off and looked at Lucy.

She winked at you, not so subtly and you felt a blush rise to your cheek as Caspian let out a deep laugh, “I’ll meet you outside, Y/N.”

You nodded, looking after her before you turned to Caspian, “you know that you don’t have to get a whole new outfit, I want you to be comfortable, Y/N.”

Too late for that, you thought to yourself as you bit your lip and shrugged, “it’s fine really, I don’t have anything that’s really appropriate for a wedding, I’ve never been to one,” you admitted with an embarrassed smile as Caspian raised an eyebrow, “and plus, once Lucy gets an idea in her head, there’s nothing that anyone can do to stop her,” you smiled, sharing a rare laugh with him. The edges of Caspian’s eyes crinkled as he laughed and his eyes shined. How have you not noticed that before?

Caspian opened his mouth to reply but Edmund interrupted his unspoken words, “if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that you two were having an adult, civilised conversation,” you rolled your eyes as you heard the laughter in his voice.

Both you and Caspian took a couple of steps away from each other, matching looks of scorn on your faces, “never,” you said in unison and you saw a flicker of a smile on Caspian’s face as he went back to join Ed. You stared after him for a moment before you shook your head and went after Lucy.

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