#i've been missing petey so much lately
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would anyone be interested if i wrote any pe/ter pa/rker snz content...
#i'm talking mcu as well as an/drew ga/rfield version <3#i've been missing petey so much lately#snz#snzfic#snzblr
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Real Pretty
pairing: joel miller x reader
(AO3 mirror)
summary: You and Joel are not in a relationship. But Joel gets jealous anyways.
author's note: Timeline's a little hazy, au where Joel, Ellie and Y/N stay in Jackson and nothing bad happens ever.
warnings: fluff, Joel's OOC as shit (what's new), filthy filthy smut (you have been warned), 18+ minors DNI
wc: 1.2k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You can't stop staring. Oh god, he's pretty. You steal a glance at him with a mouthful of food by the canteen table. He's just woken up, by the looks of it: shirt a little wrinkled and hair all over the place. With a yawn, the base of his denim shirt lifts up to expose his tan belly, right at the v-line, with a dark tuft of hair leading right down to..
SLAM! Ellie bangs her tray on the table and clatters into her seat.
"You look like shit." she says with a toothy grin.
"And you smell like shit, you little gremlin." You snap, without missing a beat. Woah. Too much, maybe.
She just laughs, her smile a bit wider, and that glint in her eye. "Oh yeah? Well I heard that somebody had a real good night yesterday."
You pause to give Ellie a look. A look that says she's too young and too nosy. And, most importantly: what the fuck was she talking about?
"That guy? Paulie or Peter or what's-his-face? Heard he slept over at the clinic."
"Huh?" you splutter, almost choking on your food.
"Kathy's mom saw him walking out of the clinic this morning. Using the backdoor. Everyone's talking about it." she tells you like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Ellie, nothing happened. And if it did it would be none of your business."
"Uh-huuh."
"I'm serious. Nothing. Happened. You should know better than to trust gossip. This kind of thing can be really hurtful and you're lucky I don't-"
"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Joel definitely doesn't know."
"Joel doesn't know what?" He walks up and pulls out the chair next to you, plate of food in one hand.
"Somebody," she looks you dead in the eye. "boinked Petey last night in the clinic but doesn't want to admit it."
That last line made you squint. Ah. Now you get it. Ellie's attempt at revenge for teasing her about a certain crush she 'doesn't want to admit'. Touché.
"Boinked?" Joel coughs into his eggs. "Jesus, forget I asked."
~~~
Later, Joel meets you in the makeshift office of the clinic after hours. It had been surprisingly quiet considering the bustle of the previous week. So much so, that you jolt at the knock at the door. You forgot he was coming over to mend a broken cupboard.
He comes with a toolbox and kneels by the cupboards, propping up the broken door with one hand and a screwdriver in the other. The very door you had struggled to open and close not too long ago. He had picked it up with ease, and you watched in awe as his hands took out the worn screws, dexterous and nimble. The room was so quiet, you couldn't help yourself.
"I patched him up and worked late. He took one of the beds and was out like a light, I swear."
"I believe you." He doesn't look up. Is he mad? Jealous, even? His face was stoic, unreadable and so you kept going.
"I was just taking inventory. And I can handle myself, you know that or else I never would've taken the chance."
"I know." Nothing. Again. You slump in your chair and watch him finish up in silence.
"Sweetheart," he says, packing up. "You're thinking out loud again."
His voice is soft and it makes you melt. "Everyone thinks something happened Joel. They're gonna think I'm a slut, or something."
He pads over and kneels so he's level with you. Gently, Joel cups your cheek with one hand, and puts his hand on your thigh with the other.
"That's because you are a slut, sweetheart."
He kneads your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your core. "You're the prettiest fuckin' slut I've ever seen."
Your mind goes blank when Joel's like this. Voice as soft as butter whispering the filthiest shit whilst stroking your pussy. His fingers ghost over your jeans and you whimper. "I'm not a- fuck!"
He dips his hand into your underwear. Soaking wet and he's barely touched you. He keeps it slow, drawing lazy circles around your clit whilst holding you close.
"Don't like hearing those things about you. They don't see you -fuck - like I do. You didn't fuck him, darlin', I know that. But he wanted to. You can see it in his eyes." He's faster now, dipping a finger in and out your hole like it's his job. You hold onto his forearm to steady yourself and hump his hand. Desperately chasing your climax.
"That's it, that's it. Good fuckin' girl. You wanna cum?" He asks and you nod your head dumbly. "Use your words, darlin'. Need'ta hear you say it."
"Yes, yes, please Joel…. wanna cum-"
He nods and you throw your head onto his shoulder, shaking as you cum into Joel's hands. He pulls his hand out of your jeans and licks them clean with hooded eyes. He's hard, cupping himself over his trousers and rocking slightly to relieve the pressure. What a sight; Joel Miller on his knees for you, because of you.
You grab him by the lapel of his shirt and fall into a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. You motion to take off his shirt and start to strip yourself. When your shirt comes off he presses hot kisses into your bare skin; mumbling profanities into your collarbone and the peak of your tits.
His pants come off and you reach to pump him; his tip red and sticky with precum. He groans and grabs your hand, lips plump and swollen from kissing you.
"-shit, not yet," He helps you stand, and bends you over the desk, bow-legged. You're hot and sticky and desperate now, whining for him to fill you up-
-and he does, in one swift motion, without any warning or prep. "You're gonna take what I give you, ain't that right sweetheart?"
You nod haphazardly, whining under his grip. His hips piston into you at just the right angle, so fast you're seeing stars.
"No-one else can fuck you like I can, don't forget that. Next time, a little shit like Petey comes round, you tell him you're mine, won't you?" You're babbling now, incoherent as pleasure builds in your gut. "All mine. All. Fuckin'. Mine."
With that, a coil snaps, and your legs collapse under the pleasure that washes over you. Joel is quick to follow, turning you around so that when he cums on your stomach, he can see the bliss on your face. Gently, he picks you up like a blushing bride into the next room, onto one of the treatment beds. He gets a towel from the supply cupboards and cleans you up, kissing your forehead. He clambers in next to you. It's a tight fit but he manages to snake an arm around and pull you towards him. Soft breath in your ear as you both stare up at the mottled ceiling, speckled in fluorescent light. Well, he did, anyway. You turn to look at him.
He was even prettier this close. Real pretty.
#i neeeeeed him#look me in the eyes and tell me he's not possessive#joel miller#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#pedro pascal x reader#kat_writes😼
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style.
masterlist
pairing - sirius black x fem!reader
summary - you and sirius start dating after accidentally running into each other at a concert but confirm nothing (till now), just to watch everyone lose their shit online.
trope/tags - band/celeb!au, instagram/social media!au, modern!au, fluff, terrible humour
word count - 1k
warnings - language
part 1 / part 2 / part 3
yourusername added to their story
starmanblack
❤ liked by yourusername, ev.rosier, marymacdonald and 856,327 others
starmanblack shades
26,013 comments
yourusername cigarette*
starmanblack ok duolingo
yourusername smash tbh
starmanblack not you copying my comment
yourusername i don't have the rizz it takes to come up with something original
starmanblack ain't no way you just said that
prongsyboy stop stealing people's glasses 😤
starmanblack never
vance_emm i'm like ragingly gay but you're kinda cute
starmanblack this is why you're my favourite lesbian
mmmckinnon TRAITOR
mmmckinnon it's not too late to delete this
starmanblack get out of my comment section
user828181 address the rumours sirius
user000423 run me over with your car i promise i'll pay for the damages 🙏
user627477 YOU HAVEN'T GIVEN US ANY ANSWERS
user999653 i'm perfect wife material, just saying
user424227 y'all realise that he's less likely to address the rumours if we keep being annoying 💀
user209996 nah fr he's gonna start hating us all
yourusername
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yourusername never would have though that my shows in dublin would be the craziest ones out of all but you guys actually delivered and i couldn't be happier! 💕 these past three nights were absolutely insane and i can't wait to be back (and i may or may not have already booked a few venues 😩) PLUS someone got proposed AND I DIDN'T EVEN SEE 😭 so if any of you beautiful people who were there have the video my dms are open for business lmao 🙏💞
tagged ev.rosier
27,664 comments
starmanblack apparently the proposal happened right next to me 💀
yourusername BABE HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE?
starmanblack CAUSE YOU WERE BETTER THAN THE PROPOSAL
starmanblack my guitar ate as always
yourusername she's even signed 😱
starmanblack slay 😝
yourusername GO TO SLEEP OMG
starmanblack say it to my face 😤
xeno_lovegood i had so much fun
yourusername i'm smiling so hard rn
pete__ sirius is a certified simp because how do you miss a proposal that's happening next to you?
mmmckinnon it's because he's both sirius and a simp petey
prongsyboy sirius doing sirius things 🤣
user552520 dunno bout y'all but i got my confirmation tonight
user073789 YOU WERE SO GOOD OH MY GOD
user843632 i'm so lonely the proposal made me cry
user439546 love me some sappy shit fr
user674848 this was un fucking real no joke
user993455 SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE RUMOURS I'M BEGGING
user200017 learn to read between the lines lol
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yourusername
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yourusername date night ⭐
29,208 comments
starmanblack pretty dress
yourusername why thank you
starmanblack my stomach feels funny from all that wine
yourusername my precious toilet 😭
marymacdonald gorgeous!!!
yourusername i was impersonating you
vance_emm AND SHE SAYS SHE HAS NO RIZZ
ev.rosier am i about to get fired?
yourusername of course not, you're my second favourite person
starmanblack i'm first
pandorasbox my friends are all so beautiful 🥺
yourusername us hot people stick together 😌
pandorasbox ONG
user329295 sirius is so lucky
user400128 i've never been more jealous of a man
user006272 IS THIS OUR CONFIRMATION?
user883265 mother is mothering
user306084 THE STAR
user243123 if this is another sike istg
user727211 I THINK IT'S NOT A DRILL ANYMORE
user492932 Y/N WE JUST NEED A SIMPLE YES OR NO DON'T DO THIS TO US
starmanblack
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starmanblack platonic snog
36,775 comments
yourusername people just don't appreciate friendships nowadays 🙄
starmanblack it's just so so sad 😣
yourusername i have better photos of us 👹
starmanblack strongly disagree
yourusername you don't wanna make this a competition
marymacdonald my mum said friends don't do that
starmanblack mama macdonald may be onto something
r.a.black affection 🤮
starmanblack i thought you unfollowed me?
r.a.black i did but i like lurking around here
starmanblack fan behaviour
rjlupin best friend things
prongsyboy HEY I'M HIS BEST FRIEND
rjlupin you were supposed to play along
user020226 MOTHER OF GOD IS THIS REAL
user366232 HDJQJDJQDJQ MY DELUSIONS WEREN'T DELUSIONS
user500447 you still need therapy
user432777 AIN'T NO WAY
user718710 I DIED DEAD.
user907015 GADHQHDQUDJQXJQDJQ I CAN'T FUCKING CATCH MY BREATH
user138282 are you still alive?
user907015 NO
user882446 this and platonic don't go together sirius 🙄
yourusername
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yourusername pda is afraid of him
39,457 comments
starmanblack FINE you have better photos
yourusername see? that wasn't so hard to admit!
starmanblack i actually won in life
yourusername damn right you did
starmanblack celeb_gossip losing their minds rn
yourusername the kettle is B R E W I N G 🥵🫖🤩👀😳☕😝😻
bartyyy I KNEW BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE HAHA
yourusername well you're the favourite child...
lily_evans kinda illegal how you're both so hot
casmeadowes i've been saying!!!
cissy_blck REG'S SISTER IN LAW 😭
bellatrixieb he's one lucky man
r.a.black lucky isn't exactly the right word but okay
user737729 OH MY FUCKING SHIT
user632444 MY ACTUAL PARENTS
user536272 NOT ME NOT BEING DELULU
user292920 swifities can't relate
user155161 WALBURGA LIKED THIS HELP ME
user993929 narcissa is so real LMFAOOO
user032386 THAT SHOULD BE ME (idk which person i want to be more)
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yourusername happy birthday to this idiot who i unfortunately love very much 💕
tagged starmanblack
30,033 comments
starmanblack tragic how i love you back
yourusername absolutely
starmanblack rizz god since 12
yourusername are you still 12?
lily_evans got me tearing up over here
yourusername awwww 🥺
rjlupin you should have used that one photo where he was on the potty
starmanblack WHY ARE YOU LETTING THEM KNOW THAT EXISTS?
rjlupin denying it would have worked yk
casmeadowes i woke up to this 💀
starmanblack good
mmmckinnon mondays.
user939355 THE CAT
user019661 i'm making this my profile picture
user763772 tell him i said happy birthday
user195666 imagine having someone say they love you so publicly ha ha ha ha ha
user244488 fuck being single fr
user328911 NO BUT THIS IS KINDA CUTE 😭
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#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#sirius black imagine#sirius black one shot#sirius black drabble#sirius black headcanon#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fluff#sirius black smut#james potter#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#lily evans#marlene mckinnon#mary macdonald#dorcas meadowes#emmeline vance#barty crouch junior#evan rosier#xenophilius lovegood#pandora lovegood#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#marauders era#the marauders
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if we could just pretend; peter parker
pair. ceo!peter parker and male!reader
summ. peter reunites with an old friend. his old friend is a recovering drug addict. his old friend doesn't recover.
gen. angst, fluff, hurt/no comfort
wc. 8.8k
tw. death, drugs, addiction, overdose descriptions, blood, injury descriptions, decomposition descriptions, body descriptions from drug use, alcohol, guilt, food/eating mentions
note. can you tell i'm clearing out old drafts? song is if we could just pretend by flatsound. this has been sitting in my drafts forever and also this is the longest oneshot i've ever written. this has been two years in the making simply because i forgot it existed and got stuck several times and i did not know how to end it, so please enjoy and feedback is appreciated. as it's been sitting, my writing might show some of it's age but overall, i think it's solid. lastly, disclaimer that i have never dealt with drug addiction myself but have been around people who have so if anything is incorrect please let me know so i can improve/change it.
Where did you go, and what did you do,
With all that time, you too scared to move?
"I really appreciate this, Pete." You slap a hand on his shoulder, "I promise to make it up," You point a finger at him, "and you can hold me to that, alright?"
"You don't owe me anything, you know that," Peter replies, holding one of your bags.
The elevator dings and you step out. Peter's penthouse is extravagant and honestly just not like him. "Holy shit," You mumble. "You sure you live here?" You turn to him with raised brows.
Peter laughs softly, "I've got a few spare rooms so let me know which one you like best."
You throw your arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. "Peter!" You drop your arms to wrap around his torso, "Ah, thank you so much."
Peter freezes up as his face turns bright red. He drops your bag to reciprocate your hug and rubs a hand up and down your back, "It's no problem." He's forgotten how affectionate you can be.
"You're the best, Petey!" You give him a squeeze before pulling away. You laugh softly, "Sorry 'bout the kiss, I'm just so excited! And oh my god have I missed you!" You wrap him into another hug and squeeze.
"Can't breathe," He mutters.
You pull away and put your hands on his shoulders, "Sorry, man."
"Well, I hate to leave you but I'm going to be late for a meeting. I should be back soon, feel free to explore."
"You sure?" You quirk a brow at him, putting your hands on your hips.
"Definitely. Enjoy yourself,"
"Oh," You laugh as Peter heads to the elevator. "Peter Parker, you have made a mistake giving me such freedom."
He just laughs, "Don't burn the place down." He flashes a smile before the elevator doors close.
You twirl around in amazement, "You have really outdone yourself, Pete." You tour each room and finally pick one down the hall from Peter's. You unload your things and roughly set up your room to keep yourself busy. You explore the penthouse to get an idea of the layout and your mind piles questions up to ask Peter later. Out of pure curiosity and boredom, you peek into Peter's room. You smile at the light blue walls and vintage, framed posters. You take a step inside to get a better view and quirk a brow at a discarded bra on the floor. "Oh," You mutter. What have you been up to Peter?
"I'm back!" Peter announces, stepping out of the elevator.
What is it like, to be by yourself, for three and a half years
For roughly three and a half years
"Welcome home, Pete." You smile at him. "So, what's on the menu?"
"I'll just cook something," Peter shrugs, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it up. "What do you like?"
You shrug, "Anything you cook, I'll probably eat."
"Great," He flashes a smile but you can clearly see how tired he is. He rolls the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows as he strides into the kitchen.
You follow Peter into his kitchen, taking a seat at the island while he sifts through pots and pans. "So, the famous Peter Parker doesn't have a personal chef or something?" You rest your head on your hands as you lean your elbows onto the island. You watch Peter as he gracefully pulls out ingredients and prepares them.
"I like cooking," is his simple reply.
"For your lady friends?" You smirk.
He cranes his neck in your direction with wide eyes, "What?"
You laugh, "I saw a bra on your floor. Is it from a girlfriend or a mistress?" You bite your lip to hold in another laugh as you watch Peter become more and more flustered. This is the Peter Parker I know.
"I don't have a girlfriend or mistress," He points a pan at you. "But it's probably from a one-night stand," He shrugs, turning back to his stove.
"One-night stand? Is this my Peter Parker who couldn't ask out Liz Allan or Mj? How's Mj doing by the way?" He really has changed.
"She's in Europe right now,"
"Good for her," You reply. "But back to my point, since when has Peter Parker been a one-night stand kind of person?"
He shrugs, "I grew up I guess."
"Being rich turned you into Tony Stark?" You chuckle, looking at him with pure adoration. He shakes his head with a low giggle. "Onto my next line of questioning then," You get up from your seat walking to his side. "You have alcohol?" He points to a cabinet. "Great. Now that wasn't my question," You reach up and grab some alcohol of your choice. "Why do you have so many paintings?" You lean onto the island, alcohol in hand.
He shrugs, "I enjoy art." He starts throwing ingredients into a pan.
"Are you okay? Did your meeting turn to shit?"
He quirks a brow and looks at you as he tosses in more ingredients. "Why?"
"You're kinda snappy today. You can tell me what happened," You grab the bottle of alcohol and offer it, "and have a drink."
He sighs, "Sure, pour it." He throws in a few more ingredients before pouring a bit of vegetable oil.
"Anything special?" You ask, grabbing a glass from a cabinet. He shakes his head, focusing on his cooking. You smile and decide to whip him up the same thing you had when you got him to drink alcohol for the first time. "This is a classic, Peter Parker. And frankly, if you don't recognize it, I'll be offended." You smile at him as you mix his drink.
He chuckles and shakes his head before turning his attention back to cooking. His mind is all over the place, especially with you here and by his side, he needs to focus on his cooking though.
"We make such a great pair," You start as you finish pouring his drink. "You can cook and I mix a mean drink." You slide over his drink and start downing your own. You sigh, leaning onto your hand and watching Peter. This is a nice moment, a nice break from the hell of your life.
Silence takes over the kitchen with the only noises being the moving of glasses and sounds of the food cooking. Peter's entire focus is on his cooking while your mind wanders. You watch him for a bit before momentarily drawing your attention away to refill your glass every so often. You think about how much he's changed since high school. How he's still the same yet vastly different. How your worlds greatly differ and how lucky you are for your path having come across his again.
"Peter," You start -a bit too quiet for your liking- with your throat burning, guilt coming up just like puke does. "Peter," You repeat and this time your voice is at a volume you like. "What did you do?" You ask this too quickly. You catch how vague the question is and expand further, "I know we weren't the closest and we still aren't and I'm sorry but what did you do? What did you do in those years I was gone? I know I didn't keep in contact like Mj and everyone else did- and Ned stayed here so-" You cut yourself off. You're rambling too much. "I shouldn't have left like I did. No contact, not even a text or DM. That was shitty but I want to know what you did? What did you do by yourself?"
Peter turns to you with a soft smile but you can feel the sadness behind it. He really doesn't know what to say. "It's okay, you know?" His head is tilted down but his eyes peer up to look at you. "It's okay that you left," He wants to assure you and hope he does. He can't be sure that he's reassuring though because he's not sure the words he's using are right. "By myself," He mumbles to himself but doesn't realize it. He sighs before explaining what happened after graduation, how he graduated college early, and lastly how he inherited some of Tony Stark's company and started his own.
"God," You shake your head after Peter finishes. "I wish I could say the same," You chuckle sadly. Your mind wanders back to before now, before college, just at the beginning of the disaster that your life is.
If we could just pretend, that I went to college
And that is why you, you haven't seen me
Your future looked bright. You just graduated and were sorting through college acceptance letters. Peter was doing the same with his Aunt. You really wanted to go to a college out-of-state; you'd lived in New York forever and wanted to branch out. Not only did you want to attend college across the country but you planned to study abroad; hopefully the college you chose to attend had one of those programs. You needed a new adventure and sure there was always something going on in New York with all the battles and things but you needed to be the adventurer.
Your first weeks of summer were spent thoroughly vetting the few colleges that truly spoke to you. You were planning to visit each campus, even one with Peter though he was set on attending school near his home. It made you kind of sad to think about; you and Peter were set on different paths. But you knew Peter would keep in touch; he never broke a promise. He was good like that, such a good person, such a good friend.
---
Two weeks into college; things were rough. You liked- well, no. You loved it. A new atmosphere was really what you needed. It's just that starting over is hard. You knew no one, had to navigate campus virtually by yourself, and classes were difficult; nowhere near what high school was like. It was exhilarating, too! So much to learn, so many people to meet, so many opportunities. You were honestly so caught up in all the newness you had forgotten about Peter; obviously, you knew he existed, and every so often something would remind you of a memory you had with him but when he texted and called, you never answered. You were just so busy and every time you checked your messages, it was late and you didn't want to bother Peter; you were sure you'd get back to him soon enough.
A year had passed before Peter stopped texting and calling. You didn't blame him and soon he completely left your mind. He hadn't been new enough for you and the guilt of this still burns in your chest.
Two years in and you were abroad in France. The country was beautiful, the people were interesting, the nightlife was exciting, and the drugs... the drugs were out of this world. The drugs took off the edge, they helped you forget, and they came in handy to crank out assignments. Well, that's how they started off, that's always how it started.
It wasn't long before you were in a week-long bender and lost in France. While high, you dropped out of college in a short, curse-filled phone call. You had missed your flight back to America anyway. From then on, you went spiraling further and further. Your mind was a blank slate and France held no consequences. You weren't native to the country and whatever happened there would stay there. You could abandon the country and fly home and forget it all ever happened. At least you thought you could.
I wanted to go, but not for this long
"Why can't you? What happened?" Peter asks as he slides a plate over to you and takes a seat next to you. He's truly worried, he hasn't seen you in what feels like forever and he just wants to know. He wants to be able to help someone he used to and still holds so close to himself.
You shake your head. You can't tell Peter what happened; there is no way you won't throw up if you do. You shrug and twirl the pasta Peter had made around your fork. "Well, I didn't graduate, unfortunately," You bite your lip. Fuck, I think I'm going to cry. Your childhood dream of graduating slipped through your fingers and all you have to blame is yourself.You choke down a sob before continuing with a chuckle to cover for yourself, "But hey! At least I got to get out of New York and I even went to France!" You beam at him before trying the pasta he's made you. Filling your mouth with Peter's wonderful cooking helps to stave off the sobs and quiet the burning sadness within you if only for a little bit.
"You can always go back," He proposes. "That's what Mj did," He adds, looking up at you with that bright smile of his.
That smile sends you back to high school and all the good times you had with Peter. Your heart is full, swelling, bursting at the seams. This is a good feeling, you miss this; feeling good all over, your whole body filled with goodness. "I guess," You shrug. "But it feels like it's too late." The statement is one of defeat and both Peter and you know that. You gave up so easily and you can only hate yourself for it.
"It's never too late," Peter beams at you again.
You can't help but smile back before replying, "I mean-" You sigh, "I guess I could but money's kind of a problem and I don't know if I can do the whole uh, going to lectures and mingling thing." You want to believe his words because some small part of you does but it's too real for you to face right now.
Peter wants to act laid back but he quickly replies, "I could always pay for it. I- I wouldn't mind at all," He suggests. "And if you want, we could sign you up for online courses! You could um," He bites his lip. Should I? And he does, "Stay here and attend your classes." It was hopeful and a stretch but Peter wants it. He misses you. He is worried about you. He doesn't quite realize it yet but now that you are back in his life, he wants to keep it that way; to keep you around and more importantly, keep you safe. He can't lose you again, that's too real for him to face.
You don't know what it is. Maybe having someone care for you is too much. It is terrifying. It's even sickening in a strange way. You really haven't kicked your addiction yet and it is so easy to get drawn back in. You wish it weren't but it just is. And now you're lying on Peter's living room floor, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and reaching out for someone who isn't there.
I overdid it
I overdid it
Well, Peter is there. He steps out of the elevator but he doesn't see you right away. Your body is blocked by his sofa but your coughs and gurgles fly over it. Peter's ears perk up and his spider-sense starts going crazy. He dashes and then jumps over the couch. He kneels beside you, his eyes wide, mouth going a mile a minute as he tries to say something- anything coherent. He quickly calls 911, holding your hand throughout and swiping his thumb over the top of your hand. He assures you that you'll be fine and keeps repeating that he's there.
Soon enough sirens flood the building and paramedics stampede into Peter's loft. Yelling and screaming ensue as Peter screams, fighting to stay by your side while police and paramedics yell. Three police officers have to not only drag Peter away but hold him down as he fights relentlessly to stay by your side. He just wants to know- he needs to know that you are okay. He can't lose you, it's too real.
As his body and mind calm so do his thoughts. His mind explores the possibility of him getting in the way of paramedics saving you and so he gives up, letting the officers restrain him with ease. But his mind wanders further and further. How did you get drugs? Why? Did he do something to set you off? What had he done?
Of course, none of his thoughts hold any truth but the possibility that they could, begin within Peter a ceaseless torrent of tears. He's sure by the time you leave the building and the police finally let him go, he could fill thirty pools with all the tears he's shed. But there's no time to dwell on his thoughts, he has to get to the hospital and be at your side! He won't let you leave him so easily, not again.
Why did you say, that I was one in a million?
Everything's been a blur. This moment now is blurry but you are present within it. Peter is sitting at your side, slumped over in a chair, one hand holding yours and the other holding his forehead as he mumbles curses to himself.
Slowly, you turn your head and unknowingly squeeze Peter's hand. In an instant, he's looking up at you and your eyes are open staring back at him. He could just scream! "Y/n," Your name rolls off his tongue and out of his mouth breathlessly, desperately. You both hold each other's gaze and each other's hand. The moment is blurry but it is nice.
"Peter," You whisper back, voice sore and croaky. You squeeze his hand again, it says more than your words ever could.
The pooled tears that have been swimming next to Peter's eyes finally fall and flow down his cheeks. Most tears follow the red paths down his already tear-stained face, a few divert creating new paths for the seemingly endless stream of tears. "I-" His voice and his pain catch in his throat. What can he say? What could he possibly fucking say?
"Why did you have so much faith in me?" You have to ask. You have to know. And you assume by now he has lost all that faith and so you must phrase the question the way you do. Your chest and whole upper body hurt like hell. There's a burning near your heart and in your throat, there's a tightness strangling your throat and crushing your ribs but the look Peter gives you hurts much more. The guilt within you burns hotter than Hell could ever be imagined to.
Because I believed it
You lean into Peter and Peter into you as he helps you walk out of the hospital. At the very moment that your foot hits the pavement, rain starts to fall, pelting you both in a way that can only be seen as some divine punishment. Even so, to you, the rain is heavenly and a respite from the thick cleanness and infuriatingly boring white inside the hospital. Peter quickly slips his jacket from his shoulders and carefully pulls you closer to him before covering both of your backs and heads with the jacket the best he can.
He rushes with you to the passenger side first, letting you slip into the seat he closes the door for you. You watch him only for a moment as he reaches the driver's side. You keep your head down, looking at your lap, and unwittingly begin to pick at your fingers. Your nerves are through the roof now more than they ever were in the hospital. At least in the hospital, you can expect Peter to be mostly calm but now you don't know how he might act. He's changed so much after all this time and who's to say he won't scream and yell at you? You swallow down your nerves as you hear Peter plop into his seat next to you.
Surprisingly and thankfully, the car ride is quiet. The rain pelting the car helps to ease your mind if only for a bit. You allow yourself a quick glance at Peter. His expression is almost unreadable if not a bit sad. Quickly, you turn away before you can start crying yourself and watch as cars and people and buildings pass you by.
Peter's mind is swirling with thoughts and question after question bounces around in his head. He wants to ask so many things but he can't and he knows that. He doesn't want to make you feel worse than he knows you're feeling right now. He just wants to let you have this time and hopefully, you can gather your thoughts enough to answer him when you're back at his loft. The whole time he drives though, his knuckles burn white as he grips the steering wheel too tightly. There's a tension that won't leave his body.
---
You two reach the building and before Peter reaches your side of the car, you step out, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, head held down as rain pelts the back of your head. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The pelts of the rain help you keep a rhythm as you silently curse yourself and demean yourself with names. Each drop of rain against your skin serves as an insult your brain must deliver to itself. It isn't going to help but it does make you feel better. All the while you've been standing just outside the car, Peter has pulled his jacket over himself and motions for you to come under. You shake your head and trail a foot or two away still following him.
In minutes, you reach an entrance into the building and Peter holds the door open for you. You step through the threshold, head still down, and arms still wrapped around yourself. It's almost as if you were to move your arms away, your body would simply fall to pieces. Peter is at your side in a moment and you continue to follow him into the elevator. You both stand awkwardly and shivering a few feet apart as your clothes and body drip rain onto the marble floor of the elevator. This ride is as silent as the car but has a more threatening ambiance.
The elevator dings and Peter motions for you to go first before he follows. "You should take a shower," He proposes quietly.
It must have been some coincidence because right at that moment a shower is exactly what you crave. You nod at him, following him to the nearest bathroom. You try to peel your shirt off while Peter fetches you some towels but you have no luck.
"Do you need any help?" Usually, he would be asking this in a teasing manner but the words could not have left his lips any sweeter than they just did. His voice is quiet and calm, a little wavering but not so much as to cause concern. He's still shivering and dripping wet himself yet he stands there looking at you with such kindness.
You nod, "Please."
He shuffles to your side and slowly peels your shirt from your torso. He lifts it slowly, softly asking you to put up your arms. He gets a quick glimpse of your bones just barely being held behind your skin and bruises littering your torso. His face is close to yours as he pulls the shirt over your head and you can feel his breath. One more moment and he is pulling the shirt off of your arms. He gets a glimpse of the bruised injection sites on your arms and has to hold his expression. "There," He smiles, looking into your eyes.
"Thanks," You immediately cross your arms back over your chest, both from the cold and embarrassment. God, I probably look like shit.
Peter hasn't seen you like this since high school gym class and even then it was rare to catch you without a shirt on.
"I've got it from here," You tell him and he nods before closing the door.
Peter lets his mind wander to high school gym class. You hated it so much but Peter needed it. He had so much energy and he needed an outlet. That was of course before he had become Spider-Man and then he joined in on your hatred of the class though, he always did better than everyone there.
He wanders into his room to change before grabbing a towel to dry his hair as his mind wanders to a vivid memory of one of the only times he had seen you shirtless back in high school.
The class had gotten done swimming and everyone was out of the locker rooms, except Peter who had to do extra laps and had just gotten out of the pool. He dried his hair as he walked over to his locker but stopped in his tracks when his spidey sense started to go crazy. He looked in every direction but there wasn't anything he could see. A few more steps revealed you, sitting on one of the benches, your shirt laying in your lap and a towel wrapped around your waist.
That did catch Peter off guard but there was another thing: you were crying. Peter's stomach twisted in knots as he looked down at you. Suddenly, your eyes were on him. Shit! Why hadn't he said something? Now, he just looks creepy!
"Peter?" You asked in a hushed tone. You had looked like you'd been crying for a while. Your whole face was red along with your eyes, you looked terrible.
"Y/n," He returned your tone. He took a few steps forward and bent down a bit. "Are you okay?"
You shook your head. You were in no mood to avoid your feelings. You hurt and you hurt bad. "No," You answered bluntly.
Peter took a seat beside you. "What happened?"
The memory isn't the most pleasant but he remembers how after that you stayed at his apartment for three days and that seemed to have done you good. He wonders what happened to the Y/n he knew back then. He doesn't feel any differently toward you, not at all but what happened to you to make you so miserable now?
He finishes changing and drying himself off and steps out into the hall. At the same time, you step out of the bathroom. Peter meets your eyes and walks over. He looks you over and smiles, you have a towel tightly wrapped around your waist and a towel thrown over your head. "Here," He places his hands on top of the towel at your head and dries your hair.
You stand there, heart beating wildly as Peter helps you dry off. You notice his change of shirt and before fully thinking about it, reach out with your hand to slip it under his shirt before rubbing your thumb over the top of the fabric. You're sure Peter already saw the marks littering your body and right now you just didn't care. You want to feel his shirt and that's all you want.
Peter stiffens as you have a hold of his shirt. Your fingers aren't touching his skin since you hold the shirt out a bit but they did for a brief moment and the tingles it sent up his spine are unlike anything he's felt before. He accidentally stops drying your hair but continues as soon as he realizes that he's stopped. He sets his eyes upon you and it's a good thing you can't see his face. Anyone could see right through him at this very moment and pinpoint where his thoughts are.
He finishes drying your hair with the towel and slides it behind your head, letting the towel rest on the back of your neck. For a moment, he holds each end of the towel toward himself and he can't meet your eyes now. His head is down but he is looking at you.
Your head is down but you're looking at him. Your eyes dart from your hand still holding his shirt to the pecs you can just make out underneath his shirt. This is a moment of safety, of home, of tenderness, of friendship, of love. There's a silent agreement between you two and so, for the time you separate. You go to your room to get dressed as Peter goes into the living to wait for you.
"It's cold, isn't it?" Peter asks as you settle on his large couch. You nod and Peter sets a blanket over you. "I've got some hot chocolate on the stove," He knows that's your favorite. "It should be done soon."
I thought i had something that you
Were too scared to lose
You nod again, wrapping yourself in the blanket. "Thanks," You whisper.
He takes a seat next to you with his own blanket wrapped around his legs. He swings his legs so they rest on the couch and leans in, his shoulder touching yours. "What's on your mind?"
He genuinely wants to know, what the hell? You let out a deep breath and lean your head against his shoulder. "I was just thinking about high school. We used to be so different. I used to be so different. What happened to me?" You turn your head and stare into his eyes.
You don't know either. "I-" He's at a loss for words. "Whatever happened," He pauses and places his hand over yours. "It's not all bad." He smiles at you before standing. "Hot chocolate's ready," He says before walking off to the kitchen.
You start picking at your fingers again as you wonder what you're going to do. You can't rely on Peter for everything, that's just not how you are. You didn't even have any money after blowing what little you had on what you OD'ed on. God, why are you so stupid!? Peter's nice enough to let you crash at his place and what do you do?
"Hey," Peter's presence pulls you from your thoughts. "Here," He bends over as he hands you a cup of hot chocolate. He takes his seat next to you again, sitting a bit more straight this time so as to not spill his drink on you. "'Thinking about something?"
You nod, "Yeah, just..." You bring your cup to your cheek and bask in the warmth. It's been too long since you've truly felt any warmth like Peter's been showing you this whole time. "I can't stay with you forever," You muse, flicking your eyes to his, unsure of what he might say.
Peter chuckles, "Well if you want to, you can." He flashes that boyish smile of his at you and it hurts. His eyes and nose crinkle and his features are so bright. "I said it before, Y/n. I'll do anything for you."
God, that hurts. He cares about you too much. "Peter," You stop him in his tracks. He shouldn't be saying stuff like this. He needs to protect himself from you. "Don't say that." He's too attached, you can't let him be this attached.
Peter's soft expression turns puzzled and he turns to look at you. "Y/n?" He's looking at the side of your face while you keep your gaze straight ahead. "If it's about staying with me, I can get you your own place. I know-"
"Peter," Your voice is stern but tinted with softness as you cut him off. "I've got to do this stuff on my own."
"No," Peter protests immediately.
"What?" You sit up straighter now, looking at him deadly serious.
"You don't have to do anything alone. If it were me, you would say the same! I won't let you be alone with this." He sets his drink down on the coffee table as he continues to speak passionately. "I love you, Y/n." It's a confession masked as a friendly gesture of affection. "You're my friend." This covers his tracks though he wishes he didn't have to cover them in the first place. "I'm going to take care of you." It's the truth and it's real and he means it.
You can only look at him in awe, utter awe. He's serious about this.
"I-" He starts out confident but falters. Should I really say this? He catches the thought and tosses it aside. His confidence is back, only a bit less than before. "I can't lose you."
Something in you wants to slap him. He can't lose you? What the fuck!? You hold yourself back, hands tightly gripping your cup. You hang on his every word. Just what is he thinking?
Peter sighs, looking down momentarily, shaking his head. "I don't want things to be like before. I want to see you and be around you; I want to know that you're okay. And I want you to be happy."
You swallow his words and let them digest. They don't sound bad, at all. But there's a knot in your stomach and a scribbly, black haziness in the back of your mind setting off alarms.
Peter leans in as he says, "There's nothing wrong with asking for help." He sits back again, "You don't even have to ask, I'll just do!" He reaches out for your free hand, "I'm here for you." He gives your hand a small squeeze. "Just let me be here for you." It's a plea and it's all he can do.
Peter's greatest fear is loss. He's lost so many people in his life already he surely doesn't need to lose another. But losing you isn't exactly his main concern, it's seeing you live up to what you've always wanted, it's letting you chase your dreams and catching them, it's waking up every day with some real purpose, it's seeing you change for the better. His concern is you. His concern is your life. His concern is your well-being. His concern is your happiness and fulfillment. His concern is your recovery. And his concern is your change. He's lost you once, he won't lose you again.
It was all in the past now, you had nothing to be scared of. The road ahead is fruitful with opportunity. Peter is by your side. You're recovering. You can handle this. You've got it.
So if we could just pretend that I went to college
And traveled abroad, and did something different
Things go well for weeks and weeks, it feels as though nothing bad has ever happened before. But something sets you off. You see something on the street and return to Peter's loft as you cry like a maniac. You feel foolish for breaking down like you are, crying as hard as you are, and being unable to move from Peter's living room floor as you are. And even worse, Peter comes home.
He's taking off his coat casually as he normally would until he hears your sobs, then he rushes to your side. He rests his hand on your back and leans in close to ask what's wrong.
Your body refuses to let you answer and so, you just cry as he sits there before slowly pulling you closer and into his lap. He pets your hair and smooshes his cheek against your forehead as he quietly whispers. You two sit like this for about an hour before you finally calm down.
You try to wipe your tears away as fast and as best you can as you quickly crawl out of Peter's grasp, sudden and overwhelming embarrassment coming over you. "Please," You beg with your head held down, trying your best to keep Peter from seeing your face. "Can we just forget this all happened?" You're bent over now almost like you're praying even with your hands clasped in front of your head as your eyes though closed are pointed toward the ground. "Pretend I'm not some massive loser that wasted his life when you- you were here doing great things and I was just-" You sigh loudly, your head finally collapsing against Peter's floor. "Please," You cry out as tears start flowing heavily and you can feel a sob start to rack through your body, "please."
Your head hangs, chin pressing against your chest. Your eyes feel hazy and you can't see much. Your back is pressed against the cool brick of the wall behind you that you can barely feel due to the thick sweater and bloated jacket that warms your torso. Your legs are out in front of you and you laugh at their strange longness. You look at your feet next, the shoes they're adorned in, and how they too look strange and funny to you. You start laughing more and more, finding everything oh-so-funny.
Anything but just sitting at home
For three and a half years
Writing song, after song, after song
Your arms now look as if shooting targets were made out of Swiss cheese. The holes only seem to get larger and darker, like the darkness could swallow your body whole if you weren't careful. And you weren't. Your eyes had always been dark but now they were pits, black holes of nothingness, no knowledge held there, nothing, just nothing. Your face is sunken like the tar roads in the summer, always sinking deeper and deeper or like the deep trenches of the sea where something terrible lies. Your lips are chapped like the hands of the working man, skin always peeling off, and never able to be quite comfortable because they are raw and red and always rubbing against each other. You're as thin as a needle, legs barely able to function as you walk bone on bone, the grinding like that of teeth against teeth. Speaking of teeth, yours seem to keep falling out, leaving your mouth pouring blood flowing like the divine wine of Jesus.
Where was Jesus now? Not here to save you. Your Jesus, your divine savior, Peter Parker is far away now, not because he chose to be but because there is nothing else he could do, nowhere he could be, not for you. And you chose your new savior, it was not him. It used to sting your arm but it doesn't seem to do just that anymore. It helps you ascend but not as long as it used to. Your belief is starting to wane but not quick enough, not quick enough.
So what is it like to be by yourself
The elevator dings as Peter reaches his loft. He steps out with his coat hanging off his arm. The place is quiet, the only noise being made by Peter as he hangs up his coat and steps into his kitchen. He opens his cabinet, the grip on the little knob staying far longer than it needs to before he opens it and lets the knob go. He reaches up just like you had on your first night. He grips the bottle tightly and sets it on the counter, it makes a noise too, a sort of clinking sound almost. He grimaces as he grabs the neck of the bottle and opens it, the smell stings his nose as he brings it close. His lips kiss the bottle and he swallows some down.
The bottle accompanies Peter to his large and lonely couch, his tight grip around its neck, carrying it carelessly. He takes out the DVD that you left, your favorite movie, he's careful with it as he sets it in the DVD player (something you had ragged on him for not having when you were first there). (Something that he hadn't used since, not until today). (Something he would probably never get rid of now, only being thrown out when he was dead). He stumbles back over to his couch, falling onto it not as clumsily as he could manage but enough to shake up the alcohol in him. He extends his arm, pointing the small remote that came with the thing at the television and pressing play. His arm falls against the couch as the remote leaves his fingers, finding a new home in the arms of the faithful couch.
He watches almost angrily, there isn't anything like it, this emotion Peter feels. Is it really anger? Contempt even? Surely, not toward you. But the drug, toward the drug. ...Right? Or was he even angry? Hateful maybe. Toward you, toward the drug, toward himself. What was this that he was feeling? It's like an ache with no name or possible description. Empty isn't the right word. He's not hollow inside, he's all filled up, some even splashing out of him but what is it? What is this substance, this feeling, this emotion, spilling out of Peter Benjamin Parker? What is this thing that spills past his lips and fills up his head? Is it... you...? Surely not, that's ridiculous!
Peter doesn't notice until now, too focused on the movie he's seen far too many times, but his hands are trembling. His knuckles are a soft red, his veins are all in place, those little clumps of blueish-skin-pigment below the reddened knuckles, his fingers long and intermittently pale the ends a bit darker than the rest, all shake in chorus. He flexes his fist, bending his fingers and splaying them out, then he checks again. They shake just as much as they first did.
And not feel like you'll die around everyone else?
Your hands were shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. It's almost exhilarating, they shook like they did when you first shot up. It was heaven. This was cloud nine. You were in paradise, lost in it. Your head was delirious, your eyes were bleary, your lips trembled as much as your hands, you were about to lose it all and all you could think about was how great this high was. You were about to die outside a house, just on the steps, of a den of drugs, a place filled with people dying just like you were about to, and all you could think about was how great this high was.
Quickly, your thoughts shift to how awful this was. Your body lost control. You fell. Your head split against the concrete of the makeshift porch. Your back fell into the stairs that sat on either side were two dying drug addicts. Foam spilled past your lips and for a brief moment you thought of Peter then you were back to focusing on dying. You couldn't control your body. Your eyes would not work with you to see. They were gone now, they no longer wished to see the world. Your hands wouldn't do what you told them to. Your ears were ringing, there was so much noise, noise, noise! Why couldn't there be quiet!? Everything just needed to stop for a second, so that you could get a grip on things. You would set things straight. You wouldn't be found in places like this anymore. You would die somewhere resectable. But death doesn't care about respect, for him, there is no respectable place to die, and you are just another soul to be collected. Indifference is his gift but the indifference of the junkies you died next to led to searching through your pockets and hands all over your body and privacy violated and nothing left on you but the things they didn't care for. Your ID, some crumpled note you'd shoved deep into your pocket, a few too many wrappers for too many different things, and something else.
I thought I was one in a million
The distant clattering of silverware and private conversations set the stage as Peter sits across from a fine, young gentleman. He holds a menu in front of himself, his hair slicked back something you had told him made him look handsome you had said, his feet nervously sliding back and forth. Words come out of the gentleman's mouth and everything starts to fade out like watching a movie as your eyes blink more and more before you fall asleep.
It didn't go well whatever that was. A date, Peter supposes, an awful date.
Peter holds a large bouquet of red roses. The dark red is contrasted by the white plastic that wraps around them. He holds them with both hands. He shifts his shoulders uncomfortably, his lips moving awkwardly against each other. His stride isn't really a stride, rather a walk but a quick one, like he has somewhere to be. A date perhaps?
Well, thanks for nothing
Peter's stride leads him into a cemetery. He passes headstone after headstone, a few full-on statutes, and some grave markers. The roses are strange in his hands in this cemetery. He shifts his grip on them a few times. His collar feels like it's choking him and sticking his finger under it hasn't done anything. His thoughts don't consume him this time like they usually seem to do; some are seething, others are sad, most are guilty, and a lot are what-ifs. Never helpful, those what-ifs. Peter accidentally passes your grave before stepping back.
He reads the engraving as he always does before taking careful steps over. He sits above your dead body (that's buried several feet down), in front of your headstone (that stares back at him like a gargoyle), and underneath a weeping willow (that he wished he could see you under, not like this, not like this). "Well," Peter starts, setting down the roses, "he was allergic to roses." He sighs. "I miss you." He leans over, resting a hand on top of your headstone and closing his eyes.
He talks some more and if anyone were watching him, they might think he was having quite the conversation with a headstone. He moves his hands and looks at the headstone like a person, making eye contact with it, maybe even willing it to respond. It never does. And it never has. It's too bad you didn't have a spirit, you might have sat underneath that willow, leaning back against it, and watching Peter just for something to do. But you were dead and that was that. There was no coming back from being dead. Your body was buried beneath the earth and now you belonged to her.
Peter groans as he gets to his feet, "Well, buddy," He rests his hand on your headstone, patting it almost like you would a dog, "I've got to get going. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" He pauses, not intentionally but he lets the silence hang in the air in hopes he might get a response. He never gets a response. There is no satisfaction or catharsis for him, only the silence of the whistling wind and the whipping of the willows as they reach as far off their branches as they can. Maybe if he hoped hard enough, one day he would get that long-awaited response and you wouldn't have died for nothing.
Peter's lids are heavy as he tries to blink away sleep. This never works just like all those other things. He always falls asleep; you never answer him. He just wishes you would answer him. Peter's eyes close rather quickly this time and nothing matters but the dream he can feel is real and he feels apart of it.
Thank you
Thank you
Peter's hand reaches out as you fall, your fingers graze his. He can see the desperate look in your eyes like a dog begging for its life. Your eyes are not only desperate but terrified too. (Like a dog that knows it's going to be put down, he thinks). Some noise comes from you, some words but his ears can't decipher them, like everything in his dreams they are distant, blurry, and unmemorable. He just wants to know what you're screaming. He can see the extension of your jaw, the crinkling and wrinkling in your face, and the raise of your brows but he still can't hear what it is you're saying.
Then the scenery shifts. You slipping past his fingers is no big deal as you fall onto a hospital bed. You look at him all tired like and puppy dog kicked. You are worn out and bruised like a dropped fruit or a childhood blanket. You look like you might be molding. Your face is sunken in, your eyes hauntingly dark and blank, the flesh of your nose beginning to rot away, and the plush of your lips gone now replaced by the hard, cold warning of your teeth. You're missing a few and your gums are starting to turn yellow. Peter can't save you. He can't do anything. He watches as you rot. He tries to leave the chair he's stuck in but he can't, his arms won't even lift off the sides. He can't get to you. You're so far away.
Before your body can fully decompose and shift into sand and fly away in the wind, again, the scenery changes. Paris. He can really only recognize it by the Eiffel Tower. You had talked about it before. A lot. Before you left. Before what happened, happened to you. Peter wanted to go there with you. He never got the chance. At least you had seen it yourself. He finds it strange that he stands in Paris but he can't see you ...like you're gone. But then everyone is screaming and there from the clouds falls a body. Your body is falling, your arms are spread out, and you're limp like a fish. In seconds, your back is pierced by the spire of the Eiffel Tower. Killed by the very thing you love. Or loved. Or did you even love it all? Did you just talk about it?
There is no time for Peter to process seeing someone he loves getting killed right in front of him. He's in an alley now like the one you died in. There are homeless people and drug addicts, drug dealers, and you. You stand there like an angel with your skin glistening thanks to the sun and despite the grime in the air. Peter can't take his eyes off of you. He doesn't want to anyway. He needs to see you like this, happy and aware and bright-eyed and in good standing with life. He can't bear the reality of flesh and bone and blood and six feet underground. It's always been a flaw of his. Feeling those that are dead are not really, not really. They still linger, he feels them, he can't see or hear them but he knows them. He can feel the brush of fingers against his back or the jostle of his loose curl. They live within him, just outside of him, in his fingers and feet and the way his eyes move follows them though he can't really see them there.
A blood-curdling crack stops everything. In a moment, you're lying on the ground with blood running from your forehead down past your chin and drip-dropping against your neck. And Peter is down on his knees in front of you, holding your torso, pulling it up onto his lap, and he holds your head like a kid holds a teddy bear. He strokes your hair as you gurgle up blood. He can't do anything for you. He's stuck. He's not allowed to save you. He is not allowed to save you. You did not need saving. He didn't know what you needed and neither did you. With your head in his arms and his nose pressed against the line of blood down your forehead and your limp body against his thighs, he rocks back and forth, whispering things he doesn't know and you can't hear. You'll be okay. I've got you. I won't leave you. You can't leave me. You will live through this. And your dead, limp body is not motivated to live.
And there you lie, next to him in his bed, your head turned toward him, and you're smiling. The sun shines on both of you; Peter can feel it on his skin. Like being kissed by a god. Like being kissed by you. He's a cat in a sunspot and you're stretching out toward him. Your fingers brush against his cheeks and you're smiling at him. He fills your vision; Peter can see his reflection in your big, beautiful eyes. He wants to kiss you and you move closer. Your eyes stay on him the whole time, if it weren't so beautiful, it'd be unnerving.
You're on top of him now. Your hands -fingers and palms- caress his chest, trace his collarbone, feather down his ribs to his hips. He shudders under your touch. He wants it again. He wants it real. He doesn't realize it isn't yet. On all fours, over Peter's body, you lean down and kiss him. It holds, lasting long enough for him to hold your cheek and to satisfy him if for a fleeting moment. You pull back, your eyes staring into his; he's in love. (You're not real). Your hands trail down his chest again as you sit on top of him. You're just looking at him.
And when Peter turns, now awake, he's alone; you're not there by his side. He reaches out across the sheets like you would reach out if you could. Poor Peter, he doesn't know.
#murder writes#peter parker x reader#peter parker x male reader#peter parker x male!reader#peter parker x m reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x m!reader#peter parker you make me sad
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A Lion For An Orca (2)
Part 2 of the social media au, enjoy!
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@Joanna_Rose: Fun day out with the friend I never knew I needed, thanks to Elias for going at my pace.
Liked by: @_eliaspettersson, @bboeser, @TessaKnight, and 60 others.
Replies:
@_eliaspettersson: Best day of the winter by far, Vancouver is awesome. BTW, you are a fantastic skater, Anna.
@Joanna_Rose: Awww, thanks, Lias, I'd hope my parents being friends with the Lindens would kick in that way💙
@BelieveInBlue: Ooooh, new Canucks power couple??
@Nucks4Ever: I ship this sooo much, you have no idea!
@TessaKnight: Glad to see you're happy again, Anna.
@tdemko30: So, that's where you were when you two said you couldn't make the pre-christmas lunch.
@_eliaspettersson: Shhh, sorry, Demmer, but the company was too good to pass up.
@Joanna_Rose: We'll come to new year, promise.
@bboeser: You guys are cute...
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@BCSportsUpdates: tweeted 16th december 2018.
Well, looks like the Canucks rookie and the Dynasty daughter are getting very close of late. Has Miss Blackwood traded her lion for an orca?
Replies:
@CanucksWags: Oh, we hope so, their friendship has been so cute to witness.
@LionsOrBust: Isn't this a bit soon, though? Like, she broke up with Brandon only a few months ago?
@BelieveInBlue: Dude, @LionsOrBust, give it up. That was July, it's December. And, he left her before the breakup. Your rookie isn't a saint.
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@_eliaspettersson: My first new year in Vancouver, a huge milestone, and I can't wait for many more to come. I've come to a team I've supported since I was five, met the best guys ever, and found someone very special to me. Here's to an amazing 2019!
liked by: @Joanna_Rose, @bboeser, @troystecher, @tdemko30, and 400 others.
Replies:
@Joanna_Rose: Happy new year, Lias! You've helped me this year more than you could ever know. Can't wait to see what 2019 has in store for us 💖🎆
@bboeser: Can't wait to score more goals together, dude!
@TessaKnight: Happy new year, Elias!!
@tdemko30: Goodbye 2018, hello 2019!!
@Canucks: Glad to see you're enjoying the city, Petey!
@BelieveInBlue: Is that 'someone special' Joanna, by any chance?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just Kiss Already GC
TheFlow: So.... do we do the plan yet or no?
Marky: I don't think we'll need to at this rate. They're dating, they just don't know it yet.
BennyTheHutt: OMG, I think he just asked her to go to ASG with him!!
Strecher: Really? What did she say?!
Snatcher: I think she said yes, Anna has fridays off now, so it works out...
Scorevat: He probably meant as a friend, chill out.
Marky: All due respect, future captain, I don't think they've been 'just friends' since he took her skating before christmas.
LouDomingue: Completely agree, Marky.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@Canucks: We have a hattrick in OT, Elias Pettersson notches our win over the Senators with an OT hattrick winner! The rookie fairytale season just keeps getting better!
Liked by: @_eliaspettersson, @NHL, @NHLPA, and 1,000,000 others.
Replies:
@_eliaspettersson: Such an honour to play for this team!
@bboeser: I helped!
@Joanna_Rose: My orca > your lion, facts are facts.
@Nucks4Ever: Joanna! OMG, help! that was sooo unhinged of you, girl!
@Joanna_Rose: Aww, thanks, I do try.
@BelieveInBlue: So, Elianna confirmed or...
@Joanna_Rose: Elianna, I like it, sounds nice. How about you, Lias?
@_eliaspettersson: Has a ring to it, gotta admit.
@CanucksWags: Not Elias and Joanna flirting on main. 😍
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@Joanna_Rose: Hello, San Jose!!! BTW, is this city always so warm, or am I just from Vancouver?
liked by: @_eliaspettersson, @bboeser, @TessaKnight, and 70 others.
Replies:
@_eliaspettersson: I know, right? Agne is literally frozen right now, and we're at the beach, weather is strange.
@ChelseaCali: Pretty sure, you two are just from cold places, babes, say hi to my aunt and uncle for me, they'll be at the game!
@Joanna_Rose: Will do, Chels.
@HollyDonaldson: The beach pic, though 🥰
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@Canucks: Representing us in style, our rookie superstar, Elias Pettersson in a sleek pinstripe tux in all black. And, his plus one and close friend, Joanna Blackwood, in a beautiful ice blue gown. #GoCanucksGo.
liked by: @_eliaspettersson, @Joanna_Rose, and 500,000 others.
@_eliaspettersson: Looking good, Joanna!
@Joanna_Rose: Thanks, Lias. Or, should I say, James Bond?
@_eliaspettersson: Sign us up! Bond and his beautiful high society partner! I'd watch that movie.
@Canucks: So would we, ngl.
@BranTheLion: So, my ex-girlfriend is wearing her prom dress to an All Star Game.
@_eliaspettersson: Might as well attach happier memories to that dress, no? She looks beautiful, fuck off. I know what you did to her, don't make me cross the street. I wear knives on my feet for a living, do the math.
liked by @Joanna_Rose.
@Joanna_Rose: Oh! And, thanks to UBC for trusting me with the four days off! I did my course work on the plane, and in the hotel room. Gotta pass my finals, y'know?
@CanucksWags: Hang this dress in a museum, wow!! 👑
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@BelieveInBlue: tweeted 25th january 2019.
OMG, the way the camera keeps panning to Joanna when Elias finishes his challenges!! She looks so proud of him! And, I swear he keeps looking to her as well, because his eyes are all shiny. He's fifth in Fastest Skater, but she looks so proud of him. 1/4
@BelieveInBlue: tweeted 25th january 2019.
Last in Puck Control, but Elias looks like the cat who got the cream. Her name banner says 'Elias Pettersson's plus-one', she's even wearing his jersey!! OTP!! 2/4
@BelieveInBlue: tweeted 26th january 2019.
The Pacific team lost bad to the Central team, but you'd never know it with how Elias hugs Joanna afterwards. Something has definitely changed since christmas. 3/4
@BelieveInBlue: tweeted 26th january 2019.
Someone sedate me, he said in his interview; 'It's always nice to bring someone special to your first all star game, Joanna has been such an important part of my season, so I hope this has been a good weekend for her. It's what someone like her deserves.' Well, that concludes my live tweeting, bye! 4/4
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Gang's All Here GC
Petey: We're home!!
Angel: That was so much fun, I'm still buzzing from the skills comp.
Scorevat: Welcome back, guys!!
TheFlow: I still can't believe you reused your prom dress.
Angel: Waste not want not, Brocky.
MamaTessa: You two looked fabulous.
Petey: So, Anna... next year?
Angel: If I get thursday off, deal.
Strecher: Are you asking Anna out via gc?
Petey: Nope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blocked number: Anna...
Blocked number: Anna, please talk to me.
Blocked number: Are you only with that Pettersson guy just to spite me or something?
Joanna: No, Brandon. I'm not even officially dating him, but I'm with him because I like him. He's treated me better in six months than you did in two and a half years. Please, do not text me again, lose my number, get on with your life. For my sake, for Elias', and for yours.
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hi love ヾ(•ω•`)o i heard you didn't have any ideas so... here i am lol, i was wondering if you could do something where peter takes care of reader while they're sick? i havent been feeling too well lately and i've been finding myself imagining this a lot (which might be weird hahaha) i really think you could write something amazing with this hdjeshuehv. i hope you have fun writing it if you ever do <3
𝘽𝘼𝘽𝙄𝙀𝘿.
SUMMARY || You’re sick and Peter decides to take care of you, whether you like it or not.
PAIRING || Peter Parker x gn!reader
WARNINGS || English isn’t my first language, might be shitty writing, sickness, reader sneezes, fluff
WORD COUNT || 900+
A/N || I wrote this at 4 am so I'm sorry for any mistakes I missed and I really enjoyed writing this so thank you for sending in a request! <3
You groan as you roll to the other side of the bed, tangling your blankets to yourself in the process. You felt so exhausted you didn’t expect your sickness to get worse. It was only just a cold that you thought was going to last for two days or so. But imagine your surprise when the day after that you caught a fever too. Now you’re stuck here at your house, home alone because your parents were on a business trip.
With no one to take care of your miserable state, you dreaded even moving an inch of your limbs. But you know you have to do it sooner. Hearing a chime come from under the pillow, you were resting your head on. You sluggishly put your hand under it to get your phone. Looking at the screen, it was a call from Peter. You furrowed your eyebrows. You were pretty sure you didn’t make plans for today. Accepting the call, you put your phone beside you.
“Hello? Y/N?” Peter’s voice was laced with worry. You can already picture him with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips doing his signature tight-lipped smile.
You opened your mouth to say something but you got interrupted by a sneeze. Fuck. The cover is blown. You never really wanted Peter to know when you were sick most of the time because he would baby you. Not that it was a bad thing. It’s just that you never wanted him to worry about you just because you had a common cold or anything else. You hated seeing your boyfriend be in distress because of you, even though he did look quite adorable.
“Oh,” Realization hit Peter when he heard you sneeze through the phone. “Be there at ten-!” He quickly told you. You wanted to protest but he has already ended the call. Letting out a sigh, you cuddle back at the warmth and comfort of your bed. What could you do anyway? He’s coming whether you like it or not.
Ten minutes passed and, true to his word. Peter was there at the front door. Opening the front door with ease as he had the spare key to your house. You were honestly surprised that your parents quickly approved of him, given that they were strict with your relationships. Peter looked around the house. Your home was already like a second home to him. He has this whole place memorized already.
Rushing to your bedroom, he carefully carried the bag he had with him. Opening your bedroom door slowly, he saw you splayed out on the bed. Eyes closed, a serene look on your face. He couldn’t help but stay there in silence, eyes looking at you in admiration, a loopy grin on his face. Oh, how much he adores you.
Walking up to you slowly, you thrash for a bit before calming down. Sitting beside you, Peter softly shook you awake. Putting his hand on your forehead in the process. Opening your eyes slowly, you come in sight of Peter’s beautiful face.
“Hi, Petey.” You murmured to him, snuggling your head on his lap. He chuckles at that, gently pulling your torso forward and pushing you slightly to the back of your bed so that you can rest your head on your headboard.
“Hey, sweetheart. You should have told me you were sick. I could have gotten here sooner.” He looked at you, a frown forming on his face.
“I know it’s just that I didn’t want to trouble you with it. I thought it was only going to be a cold but it wasn’t.”
“Angel, you know you would never trouble me, alright? Now, if you need me, promise me that you’ll call me.”
“Mmm, I promise.” You look at him as your lips quirk upwards, smiling as you hear your heart fluttering from the presence of Peter. Looking slightly beside him, you can see a bag there. There looks to be something inside of it. Peter must have noticed you looking at it because he took the bowl inside it and gave it to you.
Looking at it while you take it from Peter. You noticed that it was porridge. You can feel a million butterflies move in your stomach. You once mentioned to Peter that whenever you were sick, your mom would cook you some porridge. It brought you some sense of happiness because it meant that Peter genuinely likes to listen to your useless ramblings.
“Peter?”
“Hm, yeah?”
“How am I going to, uhm, eat this?”
“What do you mean-? Oh, oh. Be right back!”
You let out a small laugh because of your boyfriend. Dork, but at least he’s your dork. Not even a minute later and he comes back with a spoon. He also came back with a towel? What could that be? You concluded that it was for you because Peter came into your bathroom, and you could hear the water from the tap flowing to the tub.
“Buttercup?” You heard Peter scream one of his pet names for you, feeling the heat rise to your face. It’s already been a few months since you started dating, and you can’t believe he still has this type of effect on you.
“Yes?”
“Do you want bath bombs or not?”
“Yes, please!”
“Okay!”
You know, maybe Peter taking care of you while you were sick isn’t a bad thing after all.
#peter parker x reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#peter parker imagine#peter parker oneshot#peter parker x gn!reader#peter parker x gender neutral reader
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Hard Day - Peter Parker x Reader
Requested by anon: Hiya! Idk if your ask is still open but I'mma submit anyways! Would you mind doing a cute be fluffy scenerio of Peter Parker cheering up his girlfriend after a rough and stressful day. Like it's so bad she kinda cries? And like he's there for her? Oof idk ty though! (I also heckin love your account ❤️)
Of course I can do this I’m sorry this took so long and thank you lovely <3 short and sweet 💗
Word count: 816
Masterlist
You were almost certain that your day couldn’t have gotten any worse than it already was, you’d woken up with the worst headache you’ve ever had, missed your train and ended up being late to school and to top it all off once you got home you were caught up in the lecture your parents decided to spring on you about your slipping grades, but the universe really wasn’t on your side as when you finally escaped to your room and started working on your homework you’d realised you left one of your textbooks in your locker so you couldn’t study despite the fact that you had a test in the subject first thing the next morning and with that your day had gotten worse.
Lately your stress had been building up with every little thing that happened and you were starting to feel really overwhelmed by it all and as you sat at your desk, head in your hands as you tried not to let out a frustrated scream your phone buzzed moving slightly on the cheap wood that your desk was made of.
You picked it up to check the message hoping it wasn’t someone just asking to copy your homework and luckily it wasn’t.
“I’m on your fire escape let me in please” The message read and you didn’t even need to see the contact name to know that it was Peter Parker, your best friend, boyfriend and friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.
Cracking a small smile you walked over to your window, pushing the curtains across to see your boyfriend perched on your fire escape in his normal clothes wearing a bright smile once he saw you.
“Hey babe!” Peter said cheerfully as he climbed into your bedroom, not noticing how your shoulders slouched in exhaustion as soon as you closed your window behind him.
“Hey, Pete.” Your voice was quiet causing his eyebrows to furrow, “You alright?” He asked as you sat yourself down on the edge of your bed, the boy following your lead and sitting down next to you, abandoning the backpack once hanging off one of his shoulders, now laying on your bedroom floor carelessly.
When you didn't respond Peter was quick to rest his hand against your cheek, turning your face so your eyes could meet his.
That's when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes and how your bottom lip quivered in an attempt to hold back you cries.
“I've… it's just been a really hard day…” You tried to keep your voice steady but you knew as soon as you opened your mouth you were a goner.
Peter's eyes softened as he moved his thumb under your eye to sweep away the tear that had just fallen, his lips forming a sad smile as he pulled you against his chest allowing you to cry as much as you needed to.
His hands rubbed soft circles into your back and he rocked you gently in an effort to calm you, which usually worked.
But tonight seemed to have you more upset than usual and in the midst of your crying the migraine you had carried with you most of the day that had died down had now returned with a vengeance.
Clenching your eyes shut you groaned into your boyfriend's shirt, the printed science joke now stained in tears.
“What's wrong, babe?” He asked, pulling away slightly to look at you.
He was definitely used to dealing with you when you got worked up considering he'd been your best friend since before you both went into highschool and he usually knew to let you cry it all out before asking what was wrong, but the groan of pain you let out and the pained look on your face made his worries grow and he felt he needed to know what was wrong, so that he could help you, he hated seeing you hurt.
You hiccuped and your words were mixed with sobs as you told him, “My head hurts.”
“I'll go get you some painkillers!” Peter stated but before he could get up you'd wrapped your arms around his torso and pushed your face back against his chest.
“No. Just sleep.” You ordered him with pouty lips and puffy eyes as you pulled him under your covers with you.
Peter only sighed as he wrapped you up in his arms and kissed your forehead hoping that maybe it'd help ease your pain in even the slightest.
“Thank you, Petey.” You muttered as you heard his web fluid shoot out and turn off your bedroom light, a skill he'd perfected in the many nights he'd come over to your room, the darkness in the room giving your head some relief.
You felt his lips connect to your forehead once more and in turn he felt you lazily smile against his chest.
“No problem. Sleep well, (Y/n).”
#peter parker x reader#peter parker#peter parker imagine#tom holland x reader#tom holland imagine#tom holland#spiderman
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