hi! can i request pietro maximoff x reader, where he has a crush on her but is shy about it and and tries to do everything so that she doesn't notice it, but everyone can see he likes her, so one day she just asks him out?
not so tough - p.m.
pairing: pietro maximoff x fem! reader
other request: Hi! Could I please get a pietro maximoff x Reader one shot where he likes the reader and gets all flustered near them ? -anon
summary: pietro will do anything it takes for his feelings to stay a secret. unfortunately for him, heâs really bad at it.
word count: 4003
tw: alcohol and pietro doing shots. but other than that just fluff :)
a/n: almost down clearing out my requests! this takes place like right after age of ultron and pietro survived the shots. but i say this because he and wanda and y/n are still like,,, fairly young. early twenties. anyways, i really want to write a maze runner fic for minho after this. love that man. also YES i know that the gif is not necessarily of pietro. however itâs of atj so lets just make pretend because there is a very limited amount of pietro gifs. <3 anyways here u go :)Â
âNO,â HIS VOICE WAS FIRM, UNCHANGING IN HIS DECISION. Despite the affirmative tone, his eyes flitted around, shifting about in their sockets as though unsure where to set his gaze on. He decided on staring at his shoes. Across from him, his sister, Wanda, let out a rather loud sigh of frustration.
âStupid,â she told him, whacking him on the arm. Pietro huffed. âI donât understand your logic. Like, at all.â
âThatâs fine,â Pietro scrunched his nose and let his eyes drift across the room for a moment; you stood across from Steve, who was nonchalantly holding up his red-white-and-blue shield with one arm, whilst you pummeled punch after punch into the center of it. The Captain did not seem phased. Pietro, however, eyed you down for a moment before glancing at his shoes again. âSânot for you to understand. This is not even your business.â
Wanda gave him a deadpan look and scoffed. âYeah, okay. Itâs my business when I know that my brother has a hopeless crush on a girl but wonât even so much as speak to her!â
âWanda!â Pietro whisper-hissed in her direction, turning around so his back was facing you and Steve. âI do not have a crush on her.â
âHm. Well, why did you turn so red at the idea of being partners with her for the mission?â Wanda replied in an accusatory fashion. Pietro clenched his jaw and felt his neck turn hot. He avoided her eyes as she continued, âWhy did you give me such a hard âNoâ at a simple question?â
âBecause my answer is no,â Pietro said. âAnd I donât understand why you asked. You and I are always partners. Whatâs the problem with her going with Vision like always? Jealous?â
It was Wandaâs turn to flush red, and she only shrugged before saying, âThereâs no problem. I just want my brother to interact with the girl he so dearly admires.â
âShut up,â Pietro muttered, running a hand through his white-blonde dyed hair and glancing behind him.
Steve was further down the hall, talking to Sam Wilson about something with a bright smile, while you were sitting down on the bottom step to re-tie your sneakers. When your head tilted up, Pietro whipped his head back the other way; had you seen him staring at you? No, you hadnât, he told himself. He was too fast. You probably didnât see anything. Probably.
Wanda was eyeing him oddly. Pietro narrowed his brows at her, watching as her eyes drifted over towards you â no, Wanda, please do not do what I think you are â before she reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. Pietroâs heart leaped when he noticed Wanda was now dragging him in your direction â oh god oh god â and he realized had no control over stopping it without causing a scene.
âHi, Y/N,â Wanda greeted casually, letting go of his wrist once they reached you. You glanced up, pretty e/c eyes glazing over the twins before your lips curled up.Â
âHey,â you said, voice smooth and breathless and was it hot in there? Pietro clenched his jaw, willing for his ears to not turn cherry red simply from you saying one fucking syllable. âTony said weâre leaving in ten.â
âSounds good,â Wanda smiled. She then glanced over at Pietro, down to his feet, before back over to you, where she asked, âDo you think Pietro needs new shoes?â
You blinked. Pietro internally sighed; why would she say that? Why would she bring him up? Now he probably looks like an idiot, standing there with beat-up, duck-taped, falling apart sneakers and a crimson face and â
âNah,â you said, and it was Pietroâs turn to blink. âNew sneakers take so long to break in. Just stick with the old ones. Thatâs what I do.â
You lifted up your freshly tied shoes; they, too, were a bit beat up, red-and-white canvas scuffed and dirty as though they had been around the block one to many times. Pietro felt his lips twitch up. Shifting his eyes back to your face, he was shocked to see that you were staring right back at him, e/c eyes bearing into his. He had opened his mouth to speak, but the words choked right in his throat.
âGood idea,â he said, but his voice sounded wobbly and couldnât have been further from charming and did his voice crack? Jesus christ. You, oblivious, (thank god) simply smiled at him.Â
Wanda, on the other hand, looked as though she might snap if he didnât say more. She sighed, ran a hand through her copper hair and said, âWell, Iâm gonna go talk to Vision. See you on the Quinjet!â
And she practically vanished from sight. You fiddled with your shoelaces (they were already tied, Pietro wondered if you were fixing them or just playing with them), looking away from him, and Pietro shrugged his hands into his pockets. You glanced back up as though you expected him to say something. He pursed his lips.
âIf itâs any consultation,â you said at last, and he shifted his eyes to you. You gestured to his sneakers and said, âI think the duct-tape totally adds to the aesthetic.â
Pietro let out a small laugh, lifting up one shoe to look down at it. Taking a deep breath, he managed to say, âThanks. I agree.â
You smiled back, lips pressing together, eyes drifting back down towards your lap. Pietro, his heart picking up again, glanced around him for someone or something to save him from saying something stupid.Â
Panicked, he said, âIâm â Iâm gonna, er â go over there.â
You, smiling, opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, Pietro sped across the room, disappearing down the hallway where Wanda had gone in a blur of silver and blue. When he finally got halfway down the hallway, he stopped, leaning against the wall and glancing back where he came from as though you were going to run after him.Â
He slipped into the empty bathroom and flicked on the light, locking the door behind him. Leaning on the sink, he glanced up at himself through the mirror; seeing the pink on his cheeks, he cursed under his breath before turning on the water and splashing himself in the face, cool liquid stinging at his flushed face.
âLETâS GO!â came a loud, commanding voice from outside. Pietro internally groaned; Stark. Rolling his eyes, he wiped his face on the hand towel and unlocked the door, stepping out in the hall. Emerging from further down the hall, Wanda brushed his shoulder, turning around as she walked to give him a look. He frowned.
âTony says itâs time to leave,â said Vision, who walked at Wandaâs heels. âWeâre boarding the Quinjet.â
âYeah, I heard,â Pietro grumbled. Vision and Wanda disappeared into the next room. He begrudgingly followed the pair, internally beating himself up over his idiocy. He could have stayed and said something charismatic, flirted a bit, said something to make your cheeks heat up and your heart race.Â
Climbing onto the Quinjet, Pietro took his usual seat beside Wanda and buckled in his seatbelt; without consciously thinking about it, his eyes glazed the ship in search if you. Where were you? Where you in some different seat than usual?
âSorry!â speaking of the Devil, you burst in, your duffle bag hanging from one shoulder. âSorry, I forgot my bag.â
âAs long as youâre here, kid,â Steve said as the doors shut behind you, sending you a nod and a polite smile. Tony Stark, on the other hand, scoffed.
âI was ready to leave without you,â he said bluntly, and Pietro rolled his eyes; despite his redemption, Pietro never really forgave Stark for his past. The memory of the STARK missile two feet from he and Wandaâs head was too badly branded into his long-term memory.
âWhatever, Stark,â you said nonchalantly, putting your bag down, your back turned. Vision, who was sitting across the jet, glanced down at the empty spot beside him, which was typically reserved for you. Pietro watched as Vision and Wanda traded eyes for a second, but he was unable to make out what they were saying.
Without warning, Wanda got up from beside Pietro and raced to the spot beside Vision. Pietroâs brows jumped as he watched you turn around, eyes darting to your now-taken spot beside Vision before shifting to the empty seat next to Pietro.Â
âHi,â you said quietly when you slipped beside him, reaching up to grab your seatbelt (your hand brushed his shoulder and he felt his stomach swirl like he had missed a step going downstairs).
âHi,â he said back, only letting himself glance at you for a millisecond as to make sure you didnât think him to be a creep; he stared down at his lap, where he fiddled mindlessly with his fingers. His eyes fleetingly glanced at Wanda and Vision, who were staring back, waiting; when they saw he had looked up, they looked at one another and began to whisper. Traitors, Pietro thought.Â
âTheyâre cute, arenât they?â
Pietro blinked and turned his head. âHuh?â
âWanda and Vision,â you said, but you hadnât smiled or anything; oh no, did you think he was ignoring you? Or worse, did you think he didnât want you sitting next to him? And what the fuck did you mean by Wanda and Vision?
âEr â what do you mean?â
There it was. You gave him a pleasant smile, eyes closing momentarily in a sort of silent laugh that made his chest feel light. In a knowing tone, you clarified and said, âI mean, they obviously like each other.â
âDo they?â Pietro raised his brows and looked at the pair of them again. Their bodies were facing each other, knees touching, giggling, laughing, eyes glinting and oh jeez, was he seriously that dense? âI hadnât realized.â
You pursed your lips and snickered, before muttering, âNot surprised,â under your breath. Pietro furrowed his brows.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â he asked, surprised that he was holding a conversation with you without choking up or saying something stupid. You only shook your head, laughing to yourself.
âNothinâ,â you said, e/c eyes glazing up to meet his cerulean ones through long lashes. He blinked and held the eye contact longer than he intended before feverishly turning his head and clenching his jaw once he felt the heat crawl across his neck and face. Ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it up; he hoped it didnât look too stupid.
âDid you dye your hair?â you asked after a pregnant pause of silence. He pressed his lips together.
âTechnically,â he breathed, running a hand across his scalp again. âIt turned sort of blonde from the H.Y.D.R.A. experiments, but... when it started to grow back brown, Wanda and I dyed it again for... er... for fun, really.â
âThatâs cute,â you said absentmindedly, gazing off at the Quinjet, unaware of the way Pietroâs stomach leapt at the compliment. âHave you ever thought about going natural again?â
Pietro waited a heartbeat to respond. Did you not like the blonde? Did you think heâd look better with his natural hair? âI dunno. Should I?â
âI dunno,â you echoed. âBlondeâs cool, though. Iâve never really dyed my hair.â
âYou should,â Pietro said absentmindedly, before his eyes bulged and he backtracked, âNot that I donât like your hair! I mean it like itâs â like itâs fun, not that you need to dye your hair, you donât need to change anything ââ
âSâall good, Pietro, I know what you meant,â you said breathily. Pietro clamped his mouth shut, endlessly embarrassed and equally as flustered at the sound of hearing his name fall from your lips. You sighed, running your hands down your thighs before you said, âWell, good news is that Tonyâs throwing another party once weâre done out here. You goinâ?â
âProbably,â Pietro shrugged, unsure. And then, purposefully making his voice sound as casual as possible, he asked, âAre... are you?â
âOh, for sure,â you replied quickly. Pietro cleared any mental plans he had and decided then and there that he, too, would be attendance. âAs long as no robots crash this one...â
Pietro gave you a look of confusion, and you only waved a hand in dismissal.
âLong story. Iâll tell you later,â you grinned, and Pietro found himself grinning back. Later, he thought. That meant thereâd be another conversation. This time, however, he did not feel nervous. Wanda had been right; hiding would not solve anything, and maybe â just maybe â he should talk to the girl he likes. Even if heâs risking making a fool of himself.
---
PIETRO DID NOT DRINK OFTEN. He couldnât get drunk as easily anymore due to his enhanced metabolism, so he never really saw the purpose in it, especially if it tasted nasty and had no benefit to him. The urge to do so hadnât even risen within him since before the experiments with H.Y.D.R.A., but seeing you, all dolled up, smiling up at some other guy certainly made him want to take a shot.
You dressed nicer than you usually did, he had noticed, your face glowing with a type of confidence he only saw on the battlefield. But you werenât looking at him with those glinting eyes (he had been waiting for the moment to ask you about the robots), no; you were too busy talking to some clown-of-a-man in a suit that was probably double your age and had no business speaking to someone of your stature.
Pietro, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed over his chest, scoffed at the sight of the guy you were speaking too before glazing his eyes about the room. He saw Natasha Romanoff talking to Bruce Banner, and he caught sight of Steve Rogers arm wrestle Tony Stark (who had the arm of his Iron Man suit on). It was Thor, who held an old and ancient looking flask, that caught his eye.
âNo, no, this stuff is much too strong for you mortals,â Thor boasted, taking a swig of the alcohol. âItâs all the way from Asgard, you men could not handle the ââ
âHey,â Pietro said, bumping his shoulder against Thorâs to grab his attention. âCan I get some of that?â
âOh, I donât think so, young one,â Thor gave a hearty chuckle. âThis is ââ
âI know what it is,â he interrupted. Thor gave him a look, and Pietro took in a deep breath. âLook, I could down that entire bottle of vodka over there and not even feel tipsy. Just a little bit, thatâs all I ask.â
Thor pursed his lips, sizing Pietro up as though to try and assess whether the young man could handle such strong alcohol. With a sigh and carefree shrug, Thor grabbed a small shot glass and poured the Asgardians liquor inside.
âSmall sips, my friend,â Thor patted him harshly on the back, causing Pietro to jolt forward and almost drop the shot glass. âSlow and steady wins the race.â
Pietro scoffed and swirled the liquor around in his shot glass, âYeah, but the hare wouldâve won the race if he wasnât such a schmuck. Lâchaim.â
Thor gave another bark of a laugh and Pietro downed the shot, the harsh liquid stinging his throat. âYou are funny, Maximoff. And where is Lady Y/N this evening?â
Pietro practically choked, still recovering from the burn of the alcohol. He jabbed his thumb behind him. âTalkinâ to some putz over there...â
âAh,â Thor nodded his head. âWell, do go save your damsel, then. Sheâs looking over, hello!â
Pietro glanced behind him as Thor continued to wave. You were, in fact, looking over, and you waved back, grinning. The man across from you glanced over, and Pietro narrowed his eyes at him.
âSheâs not a damsel,â Pietro muttered, grabbing the vodka from the next table over and filling up his shot glass. A few of the people in the area cheered when Pietro tilted his head back to down the contents of the glass, but quickly shifted their attention once he finished.Â
Christ, he thought while walking through the main room in search for Wanda, That Asgard-shit was strong. He hadnât felt tipsy in a long time. Where the fuck was Wanda?
âVision!â he called at the sight of the synthezoid. Vision looked down at him and smiled. âVision, thank god. Whereâs â whereâs my sister?â
âIn the bathroom,â Vision replied, his voice sounding smooth like always. Pietro nodded and patted him twice on the shoulder, the alcohol in his glass sloshing around.Â
âYouâre the best,â Pietro said, charging down the hallway until he reached the bathroom and pounded his fist on the door. âWanda!â
âWhat?â came an annoyed voice from inside the room.
âI need to talk to you,â Pietro demanded, and he heard Wanda groan. Silence ensued until the click of the lock sounded and the door swung open. âWanda!â
âPietro!â Wanda echoed sarcastically. âWhy is your face all red?â
âHad some of Thorâs Asgard liquor whiskey stuff,â Pietro shrugged. âNo biggie. Wanda, some old guy is flirting with Y/N!â
âOkay,â Wanda shrugged. âGo over and sweep her away and flirt with her instead.â
PIetro was shaking his head halfway through his sisterâs sentence. âNo, no, no, I canât flirt with her, I am not ââ
âYou flirted with every single girl in Sokovia, Pietro, this is no different.â
âNo, it is very different because I actually like this girl!â
Wanda beamed. âAha! So you admit it!â
Pietro rolled his eyes. âDoesnât matter. The fuck do I do?â
âJust go over and say something,�� Wanda shrugged her shoulders as the pair of them made their way down the hall and towards the party. Vision waited at the end of the hall. âOrder a drink and like, stand nearby and then be like âOh, hey!ââ
Pietro gave her a deadpan look. âThat is a stupid plan.â
âHave you got a better one?âÂ
Pietro thought it over, knowing his twin was right. His eyes drifted back towards the bar, where the man still stood across from you. You had one elbow leaning on the bar, and your shoulders slouched; you took a sip of your drink every few seconds and Pietro suddenly realized how bored you looked.
This is it, he thought to himself as he weaved his way through the crowd. The man across from you kept talking and talking and talking, however it came to a pause when he saw Pietro had approached.
âPietro!â you said, eyes lighting up. You sounded relieved. âI knew I saw you earlier.â
âYeah... I didnât really feel like third-wheeling Vision and my sister for the whole night, so...â Pietro trailed off. Before you or the schmuck said anything, he added, âI also wanted you to tell me that story.â
âStory?â you furrowed your brows. âOh, the robots!â
âWhat robots?â said the schmuck in the suit.
Pietro beat you to it and said, âLong story.â
âYeah, hey, could you get me a drink?â you said to the man. Pietro furrowed his brows.The man grinned and nodded before turning around to do so.Â
Before he could speak, you grabbed Pietro by the wrist and tugged him away. The pair of you pushed through the crowd before stopping in the center, blending in within the sea of fancy clothes and alcohol.
âOh, thank god,â you breathed, glancing once behind you. âHe would not leave me alone. You are literally my saving grace.â
âPretentious, was he?â Pietro commented, pursing his lips. You nodded, smiling. âSuit says it all.â
You snickered. âDude, he was old enough to be my dad. And.... not my type. But, doesnât matter, because you saved me and all is well in the world.â
You saved me. His heart quite literally skipped a beat or two at the sound of that.
âSo, you had some of Thorâs Asgard-shit, right?â you asked, and Pietro nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of the tipsy-ness he felt from earlier.
âYeah, sâstrong,â Pietro muttered. âHe only gave me a shot, though.â
âA shot?â your brows jumped. âThatâs a lot! Well, he probably knew you were strong enough to handle it.â
Pietro blinked. Were you... flirting with him?
âGuess so,â he shrugged, glancing behind you. âUh-oh. Suit-Man is looking for you.â
You turned your head fleetingly. âFuck. Letâs just keep moving, then. Over there.â
The pair of you ventured further down the room, now moving towards the opposite end of the space. Thor and his gaggle of men following him (begging for a shot of the Asgardian liquor) sat around a small table, laughing and telling short anecdotes.
âAh, Maximoff! And Lady Y/N!â he greeted. He winked at Pietro and said, âThat shot give you a nice confidence boost, eh, lad?â
Pietro pursed his lips and avoided your curious glance. âEr â donât know what youâre talking about.â
Thor laughed and lifted his shot glass. Raising it and glancing at you, he said, âHeâs a catch, this one,â before throwing his empty glass onto the floor and shouting, âANOTHER!â
You and Pietro traded eyes, lips twitching up. You glanced away first, looking at your feet, your hand moving up to adjust your top. Pietro stayed staring at you, cerulean eyes glazing over you as though to relish in the fact that he was here, spending time with you without making a fool of himself.
âUh-oh,â you muttered suddenly, snapping Pietro out of his daze. He flipped his gaze to behind you; Suit-Man was making a beeline for the pair of you. âShit. What do I do?â
Pietro thought to himself, an idea popping in his head, but was it okay? Would you think him to be weird for suggesting it? Would you be uncomfortable? How would â
You suddenly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards you, kissing him with vehement energy; Pietro closed his eyes and let himself mold into you with zealous need, taking advantage of it, despite it simply being a distraction tactic.
You kept yourself pressed against him for a few seconds longer, hand holding his cheek as though to keep him frozen there, but it wasnât until after at least thirty seconds that you pulled away. Your lips swollen and your face flushed, you ran a tongue over your bottom lip and glanced behind you. Suit-Man was long gone.
âSorry,â you muttered. âI â I didnât know what else to do.â
âIt worked,â Pietro said lightheartedly, ignoring the fact that his cheeks and ears were probably a cherry red by now. His heart was still racing. âIt.. it was a good idea.â
âYeah?â you breathed. He nodded, smiling. âI got another idea. I dunno if itâs a good one.â
âOh yeah?â Pietro matched your tone, chest still heaving slightly as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt over his elbows. His heart picked up at the sight of your eyes flickering back and forth between his face and the protuberant muscles veins of his forearms. âWhatâs that?â
âYou wanna go out?âÂ
Pietro blinked. âWhat?â
âDo you want to go out?â you repeated, smiling. âLike on a date.â
âOh!â Pietroâs eyes widened. âI â I ââ
âI didnât mean to catch you off guard,â you backtracked. âYou can say no if you want. I get itâs kind of odd if some random chick kisses you without warning and then asks you out seconds later, and ââ
âNo, no, I â yeah, Iâd love to,â Pietro managed to get the words out. âI just... I wasnât expecting it. But yes.â
âOkay,â you grinned to yourself. âCool.â
âCool,â Pietro nodded, his lips curling up until the red-glowing apples of his hurt. His eyes flickered down to look at you; you were smiling too, and it widened when you met his eyes. Then, with a rush of confidence that he was sure came from the shot Thor gave him, he asked, âYou wanna get out of here?â
You turned red. âYeah. Câmon.â
---
a/n: okay this was lowkey refreshing to write. requests will open soon! -essie
taglist: @niallhoransupremacy @criesinlies @fairydxll @mcximffs @minbeatriz16 @slvtforfictionalcharacters @kaqua @pagesbetweensheets @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @julster
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Begin Again
an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.
Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.
CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)
Word Count: 24K
Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.
Breakups suck.
Thatâs it. Thatâs the whole message. Thereâs nothing else to add, except youâd never let yourself love again. Itâs not like you didnât know it wasnât going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasnât every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule?Â
Natalie Greeneâs voice echoed in your mind, âdonât get involved with a senior boy. They move on and youâre left picking up the pieces in homeroom.â You didnât listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didnât hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else.Â
You wish you werenât so kind and understanding to him.
You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked âhello?â three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, âhe ended it, huh?â All you could do is squeak back, âstay right there babe, Iâm on my way with the break up kit.â Â
She showed up with a stray grocery bag. âalright,â she stated, hands on her hips.Â
âI got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-âÂ
âWhy do you have a lighter?âÂ
Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, âto burn stuff, duh.â
The gesture was nice, but you couldnât focus on the movie.
It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours.Â
A supercut of every moment.Â
You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you heâd wait for you and everything would be okay.Â
Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly youâd fall back into him if he called.Â
âI knew this was gonna happen, Nat.â You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, âso why does it hurt so bad?âÂ
Your friend frowns, sheâs no savor to heartbreak. Sheâs been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you donât know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close.Â
âBecause even though the ending was coming it didnât feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped heâd change his mind.âÂ
You gasp, âhow do I get past this? Nat, it feels..âÂ
Youâre tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, âlike youâre dying? Yeah, that happens. But, youâll live. It doesnât feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.âÂ
You snort, âfor breaking my heart?âÂ
Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, âfor making you grow.âÂ
Your shoulders feel like theyâre falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like itâs been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know heâs not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy.Â
Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing thatâs helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements.Â
A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall.Â
For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you werenât sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed.Â
Maybe his bed was against your wall and thatâs why you heard so many small knocks.Â
Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, heâs thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights youâve had something to rely on. Something that couldnât go anywhere.Â
You blink and suddenly youâre staring at your open locker, you donât even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion.Â
âAre we ready to go to Flashâs party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?âÂ
Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a âhey, Nat,â her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, âstill dead to the world, understandable.âÂ
âAt this point Iâd do heroin to feel something,â your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. âTell you what, if youâre still this miserable in six weeks, weâll do it together.âÂ
Your eyebrow quirks, âyouâd do heroin with me if Iâm still this miserable?âÂ
Natalie Greeneâs hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve.Â
âSix weeks, starting today.âÂ
You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greeneâs plan.Â
âSix weeks.âÂ
Itâs solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold.Â
WEEK ONE.
Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flashâs party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldnât go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path.Â
âHereâs why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.âÂ
âYou think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?â
âIâll take care of you for the night, okay? Iâll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything youâre holding back, thatâs why you should go.âÂ
You look her over, sheâs been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you itâs one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again.Â
If Natalie Greene says itâll help, youâll listen.Â
âYouâll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?âÂ
A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, âI think itâs time I repay you for all these years.âÂ
For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, itâs small but itâs there.Â
Flashforward two days later, youâre eight drinks in and feeling like youâre flying.Â
You sway against your friend, âand he,â you hiccup, âhe said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,â it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, âboom, no boyfriend.â Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical âwhat the fuck?â face.Â
âI mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. Thatâs who! And- And you know what?â you hiccup, âI thought Iâd be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?âÂ
âNah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute Iâd say âfuck him!â and the next Iâd be overwhelmed with sadness because I didnât have anyone to hold me anymore.âÂ
You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadnât thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, thatâs the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesnât know how to say sorry, maybe heâs waiting for you to call.Â
âI should call him, right?â Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. âNo! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!â You whine, âbut what if he-âÂ
Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second.Â
âHeâs not. Heâs not thinking about you, heâs not missing you, heâs not sitting around wishing youâd call him, heâs just not. He broke up with you, you donât do that if you still care. Donât do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.âÂ
Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective.Â
He didnât miss you, and that⌠really, really hurt.Â
Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. âYouâre right! He, he doesnât-â you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didnât know how you could hold in so much hurt.Â
âOkay, okay. Letâs go, we can cry in the car but not here.âÂ
Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, âhe said he loved me!â Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, âAnd Iâm sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and itâs no one's fault.âÂ
It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back.Â
Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. âIâm getting naked,â you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts.Â
You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent.Â
âSleepy?âÂ
Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join.Â
âNatalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?âÂ
Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, âI did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. Iâll make toast in the morning.âÂ
Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.
âDo me a favor?âÂ
âAnything,â she whispers. You donât think he ever loved you this soft. Â
âMake sure he gets home for me.âÂ
Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores.Â
The birds were screaming the earth back awake.Â
At least thatâs how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you canât get comfortable.Â
Thereâs two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene.Â
âGood morning, sunshine!â You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. âOh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think Iâm dying.âÂ
âHow are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.âÂ
She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it.Â
âI think⌠I think Iâm doing okay.âÂ
Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, âgood, Iâm making breakfast. Come join.âÂ
After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea.Â
Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen.Â
You hadnât even checked your phone yet, âwhat time is it?âÂ
âNoon thirty.âÂ
Your eyes widen, âmy god,â you mumble to yourself.Â
Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines.Â
Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, âNat, youâre the greatest thing I got.â She bounces her shoulder into yours, âI know.â Â
You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily.Â
âHey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.âÂ
You wave her off, âdrunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?âÂ
âHave you ever-âÂ
Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues.Â
âWhoâs-âÂ
âDid you-âÂ
You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door.Â
âWhat do you want, penis?âÂ
Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of⌠cookies?Â
Neighbors forever, close pals never. Youâd played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight youâve had a disdain for Peter Parker. Youâre not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes.Â
âI was going to say, âwow, how could a guy ever dump you?â but now, Iâd say thatâs how.âÂ
Normally that wouldnât hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot.Â
âIs this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear Iâd rather eat glass than-âÂ
The plate is shoved into your face, âMay had me bring these over, she said your mom told her youâve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.âÂ
You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.
âI know you wouldnât know anything about someone loving you but-âÂ
âIs that Peter B. Parker?âÂ
Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, âhello, Natalie Greene.â Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin.Â
The person youâve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew.Â
âCookies?â Natalie nudges your arm, âhe brought cookies and heâs right across the hallway, how nice.âÂ
Peterâs oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. Heâs always so god damn happy, itâs annoying.Â
âWell, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.âÂ
She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again.Â
âYou know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!âÂ
You donât know what sheâs playing at but youâre shutting it down immediately.Â
Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. âYou talk about me?âÂ
You cross your arms and sneer, âdonât worry, nothing good.âÂ
His smile drops, âyeah, sorry. I donât know why..â his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. âHere, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.âÂ
You grip the plate and look down, theyâre your favorite.Â
âWe, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something Iâm here, soâŚâÂ
Peterâs never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now.Â
âItâs a breakup. Iâm sure I can manage without you just fine.âÂ
His eyebrows turn in, âright. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.âÂ
Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As youâre about to retreat he stops in the doorway, âfor what itâs worth, I think heâs stupid and heâs gonna realize what he lost when itâs way too late.âÂ
Itâs almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person youâre supposed to hate has human peek through their armor.Â
Too bad youâre more guarded than ever.Â
âWell, then. Itâs a good thing youâre not worth much.âÂ
Maybe itâs his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words heâll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection.Â
Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity.Â
âIâm sorry youâre hurting,â you didnât have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.
Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good.Â
On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasnât said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat.Â
âSo, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?âÂ
Deny till death.Â
âNo way, Iâm talking about Mr. Harrington, heâs like a hundred years old.âÂ
Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, âyour hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?â
Itâs dumb to lie, you and her know the truth.Â
You shrug and take a fifth cookie, âhe may have a routine, I dunno.âÂ
Your friend hums, âI just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.âÂ
Gagging at his name you shake it off, âGross! Itâs bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.â It takes you a second but youâre able to plow through another bite.Â
âI just⌠why do we hate Peter so much?âÂ
You donât know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. Itâs easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings.Â
âI donât know. Heâs just a pest to me, every time I turn around heâs there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.âÂ
Natalie Greene knows three things to be true.Â
One: Peter Parker likes you, you just donât know it yet.Â
âWhat if you talked to him?âÂ
Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, âIâm sorry, what?âÂ
Two: You like Peter Parker, you just donât know it yet.Â
âIf you need me and Iâm not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I canât be here, promise me youâll knock on his door.âÂ
You scoff at the idea, âyeah, sure.â sheâs not very confident you mean it.Â
âSeriously, promise me right now if I canât be there for you, youâll ask him.âÂ
She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. Itâs not like sheâd go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline.Â
âAlright! If you arenât around and itâs literally life or death, Iâll ask⌠him.âÂ
Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just donât know it yet.
WEEK TWO.
Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school.Â
Today, when leaving, right as youâre pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out.Â
âHey.âÂ
You freeze, itâs rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really donât like the sudden change.Â
âHow are you doing?âÂ
You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didnât understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled.Â
âLike I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.âÂ
Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, âand the cookies?âÂ
Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and sheâs the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail heâd start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesnât deserve unprovoked rage.Â
âThey were really good,â you take three steps before turning back around.Â
âAnd, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.âÂ
Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, âwe have like, twenty left. Want some more?âÂ
You shake your head softly, âmaybe later?â Peter nods exuberantly, âyeah, yeah. Iâll bring them over.âÂ
You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, âthanks for the warning, penis!âÂ
This was it.Â
This was your worst nightmare.Â
Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didnât matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop.Â
âAnd he was so sweet, wasnât he? Honey, are you sure he hasnât reached out? Itâs not too late to call him, maybe if you-â May didnât deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didnât even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together.Â
Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat.Â
âHe doesnât give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think heâd call? He doesnât want me, I mean heâs made that clear right?â Your eyes shoot to Mayâs, âIâm right, right? You donât break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?âÂ
Tears haze your vision, âhe ended it with me mom, and you know why? Itâs cause he found a new girl! He fucking-â water rushes down your cheeks but you donât stop, âhe,â you collapse on the word, you canât get a good inhale on breath.Â
âHe left me to pick up the pieces, thatâs all he did.â It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be.Â
You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you canât fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind itâs a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death.Â
Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you donât know whatâs happening but youâre trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, itâs not because of your sudden blink. Itâs because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest. Â
Itâs the last place you want to be but youâre angry, and heâs there, and itâs all coming out.Â
Youâre able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peterâs shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, itâs the first time youâve ever actually felt him against you. Heâs more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesnât stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until youâd push him away.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry,â you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales.Â
When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peterâs hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, itâs the good kind of emotional numb.Â
âI, um, I still have those cookies?âÂ
Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you werenât so crazy. Or at least, Peter didnât see you as crazy, which when thinking about didnât mean much.Â
You canât help but laugh, itâs so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you.Â
Tonight, you were full of surprises.Â
âYeah,â you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, âIâd love to come over for cookies.âÂ
You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding.Â
You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. Sheâs all over his instagram, and sheâs pretty. Heâs all over hers, dating back to five months ago.Â
You do a double take, five months?Â
He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldnât hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peterâs already seen you at your worst.Â
You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door.Â
Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasnât scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didnât get angry often, and youâve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall.Â
âI hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me Iâm absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.âÂ
While heâs glad youâre not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you.Â
âIâm so sorry.âÂ
âIt was right in front of my face, too. Sheâd been claiming him since the second week of school. Iâve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I⌠I want to break something.âÂ
Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesnât have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look.Â
âWack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.âÂ
You look unsure, you donât want to ruin his things, even if you donât like him.Â
âRight on the edge, go on, do it.â His egging you on makes you follow his command, itâs gentle.Â
âHarder,â you test it.Â
âHarder,â you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good.Â
âLike you mean it, like you need it.â You do it again, itâs louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier.Â
âHarder, donât be so weak!â
He hit the right nerve, you canât stop, youâre moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls.Â
You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow.Â
âFucking!âÂ
âPiece!â
âOf!â
âShit!âÂ
You start to slow down, Peterâs notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when youâre done, Peter gives you a head nod, âbetter?âÂ
You nod, âlots. Sorry about your book.â He doesnât look bothered in the slightest, âitâs a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.â You peer over the contents in the pages, âthatâs a lie, everyone knows science is green.â Peter laughs, he nods like heâs saying âyou got me there.â âDoesnât mean I like it though.âÂ
Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, itâs like heâs always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit.Â
The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You donât know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and youâve always had a disdain for Peter.Â
Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you canât decide whoâd get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever.Â
âYouâre looking at me funny.âÂ
You are, itâs because youâre noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid.Â
âI had a crush on you when we were younger. I think thatâs why I stopped being your friend.âÂ
Your confession made Peterâs eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. âThatâs cute.âÂ
It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. âYeah, it really was.â You shouldnât entertain it any further, but you canât stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, âWanna know when it started?â He looks curious, âsure.âÂ
You go quiet for a minute, you havenât thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind.Â
âWe were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said âI got this.ââ You laugh, replaying it once more.Â
âAnd you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said âdonât be scared.ââÂ
Thereâs something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.
Peterâs smiling, itâs like heâs reliving that day in his head too. âI fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.â You shrug, âmaybe.â Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like youâve said too much.Â
âHey, um, thanks for the whole⌠unleashing my anger thing.â You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it.Â
âAre you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?âÂ
No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadnât had lunch. You have a sinking feeling youâd regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible.Â
Still, you find yourself agreeing.Â
âSure. Letâs get some pizza.âÂ
It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up.Â
âIâm surprised you didnât judge me on my hawaiian choice.â He always did, he told you it wasnât authentic and childish.
âHey, Iâm a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.â Your face brightens, he understands. âExactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, itâs like-â Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. âFries and ice cream.âÂ
Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when youâd go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised heâd like it but heâd tell you it was âfucking grossâ.Â
âHawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?â You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, âno thanks, weâre good.â Peterâs slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, âyou want a bite donât you?â Your eyes flash to your slice, âonly if you take a bite of mine.â Itâs only fair. âSwap with me,â you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively.Â
You swap back and take a bite of yours, itâs heavenly. âIâm glad I got mine.â Peter agrees with the statement, âIâm sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. Itâs all about keeping it simple.â You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know itâs a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe.Â
Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. âPlease donât call me that.â Peterâs eyes soften, he almost tells you he didnât mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that.Â
âNo problem, old lady.â It took a second, but you couldnât stop the laugh. âWhat did you just call me?â Peter bites his bottom lip, âwell, thatâs the opposite of babe, isnât it?â It makes your smile bigger, itâs funny, if you had asked him something that simple heâd fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up.Â
For the first time in a month you really canât remember why you thought he was so great.Â
WEEK THREE.
Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips.Â
âLetâs fuck some shit up.âÂ
Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy.Â
It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldnât touch your closet. You couldnât bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.
âI donât know why itâs so hard for me, everything else was fine.â Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and sheâs itching to start rummaging. âItâs not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?âÂ
You snort, âthink I could do some black magic?â Her eyes light up, âIâll look up the dark arts right now, donât dare me.â You sigh, âI donât care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.â Natalie Greene understands, sheâs been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of whatâs no longer.Â
Itâs only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone heâs no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him.Â
âShit, can we raincheck the disposal?â Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. âFamily stuff.â You tell her itâs fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch.Â
It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldnât. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone.Â
 May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered.Â
âHi, May. Is Peter home?âÂ
She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. âHow are you feeling?â If you had been asked that a week ago youâd fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better.Â
âI think Iâm doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.â May frowns with empathy, âmy college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.âÂ
You laugh, âyeah, it really is.â May clears her throat, âPeterâs in his room, he may be busy with some homework.â You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because itâs what he deserves.Â
You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. âI have an odd request for a man.â Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary.Â
âUh huh.âÂ
âIâm getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?â You follow up with a wince, âIâm sorry, this is super weird and out of place.â
Peter shrugs, âif it helps, it helps. And if youâre serious, Iâll go with you.â You take a deep breath, healing and growing isnât always comfortable. âFuck it, letâs donate some shit.âÂ
You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, heâs carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity.Â
âDonât worry, justice is about to be served.âÂ
May grins at her nephew's soft smile, sheâs seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. âItâs sounding a lot more like twenty percent.âÂ
The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You werenât even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently.Â
âAw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!âÂ
You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but youâre not a couple anymore. When she says âcoupleâ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick.Â
You donât think you could ever love again.Â
Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. Itâs not worth the awkwardness of announcing youâre not a couple, you both know youâre not, and she doesnât really care if you were or not.Â
âWe were just in the mood to donate today,â he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, itâs second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at.Â
Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. âAre you sure you want to do this?âÂ
Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock.Â
âIâm sure.â Because, you really are.Â
Peter smiles, âany last words?â You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peterâs laughing at your blank face, âcâmon, you know you wanna double it.â You do, so you did.Â
It feels freeing, youâre not healed but you donât have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peterâs high-fiving you. Youâre tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than youâve ever felt.Â
A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. âLet me buy you a hawaiian.âÂ
Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but youâd admit it silently. Heâs on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. Heâs a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. Heâs charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.
Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours.Â
For a second your mind blips and you truly canât remember his eye color. But you know theyâre nothing like Peterâs.Â
You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. âYou good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.â
You canât stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it.Â
âYour eyes are very pretty.â You wonât stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandmaâs plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, âso you werenât trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.â
The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, heâs not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like youâre not blatantly flirting with ease.
âI just havenât noticed them before I think.âÂ
Peterâs quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows.Â
âWell, Iâm glad you are now.â Itâs a little too much, heâs not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too.Â
You clear your throat, âI need to ask you something.â Peter stops tapping, itâs like heâs been waiting on you to say it. âYeah, anything.âÂ
You lean forward a little, âdid you tell my mom about the party last year?â He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, ânope.â Your eyes narrow, âIâd rather us not start a friendship built on lies.âÂ
Peter lights up, âfriendship?â A displeased expression was shared, âthin ice, Parker.â He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time.Â
Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, âI promise I didnât tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and heâs super old so I just kinda⌠let you believe it was me.âÂ
Your heart breaks free, itâs loud and pumping and itâs making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours.Â
Heâd be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him.Â
âYouâre the most selfless person I know and itâs kind of insufferable.â Peter rolls his eyes, âjust admit you like me, god.â Your breath stutters, but you move right past it.Â
âYeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.âÂ
Peter jumps back into character, âalright, so Iâm down on-â
For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.
Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.
âWhy couldnât your grandma die next month?â She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. âSo true, she shouldâve known you were having a crisis.â You nod, âitâs so hard knowing the world doesnât revolve around me.âÂ
The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didnât want a spectacle and you didnât even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadnât been thinking about it for days. You wonder if sheâs picked up on the hints, youâd been relying on her less and less.Â
âAre you going to hang with Peter while Iâm gone?â Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights heâd sent you a few videos that he thought youâd like. And you did, even if he didnât know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen.Â
He would send you things he found funny.Â
Peter sends you things he knows youâd find funny.Â
âMaybe. He buys me pizza so heâs cool to have around, I guess.â Natalie Greene snorts, âand Iâm sure he makes fun of your pineapple.â It feels like your heart shines, âno, actually. He gets it.â Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification.Â
âWanna come have some brownie cookies?âÂ
You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. âHey, Nat, I gotta go. Iâm really sorry about your grandma.â She rolls her eyes, âshe was super old and I didnât really know her, itâll be cool to see my cousins though.âÂ
âHave fun on the trip!âÂ
A wicked grin, âhave fun with Peter.â You donât even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing.Â
Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like youâve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.
âHi.âÂ
Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, âhi.â Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along.Â
âOkay, okay, so what did she say?âÂ
Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion youâre fully invested in Peterâs story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate.Â
Peter swallows his own bite, âshe asked me to back her up! And I was all like, âhell no, you stole my auntâs juicer.ââ You gasp, ânot Mayâs juicer.â Peter holds a finger up, ânah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, âit wasnât a juicer, it was a butter dish.âÂ
You slap a hand over your mouth, âoh no.â Peterâs eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. âI wish you couldâve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.âÂ
Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary.Â
âAre you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured youâd be scared of my cooties.â You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass.Â
âOh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.â Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, âI think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?â You laugh on a gulp of milk, âtrust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus.Â
He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you.Â
âIs that a good thing?âÂ
You look over his face, heâs got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, itâs just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. Itâs a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, itâs a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off.Â
âYes. Iâd say puberty was very kind to you.â Peter takes another step, âhow so?â Pretending to think about it, like you werenât already, you take a second to respond. You donât notice him taking another step.Â
âWell, you have a nice jawline.â Peter tilts his head slightly, âis that all?â Youâre not sure what it is, but thereâs an undertone and it fills you with excitement.Â
âAnd very nice curls.âÂ
âI donât think that has anything to do with puberty.â You suppose heâs right, âyouâre taller than me now.â You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peterâs suddenly right in front of you, âespecially now.â He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, âyeah, youâre like a giant.âÂ
Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like theyâre the right amount chapped. âAnything else?â Youâre struggling, all you can think about is him but you canât follow a train of thought.Â
âYou smell really good,â you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, heâs caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. âYouâre just complimenting me now.âÂ
You shake your head, âdo you know how many teenage boys smell bad?â Itâs not your fault, heâs so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue.Â
âOne more.â You try to think, heâs making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place.Â
âYou-â Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldnât catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. Itâs over as quick as it started.Â
You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. Itâs not lost on you when you werenât the one to pull away, but youâre the first one to comment on it.Â
âYou shouldnât have done that.â You werenât mad, you were warning him, he doesnât know what lies ahead.
âBut I really wanted to.â His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream?Â
Itâs dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. âAnd do you want to again?â Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.
It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing.Â
It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what heâs doing, heâs giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer?Â
What are you doing?
His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission.Â
Youâd always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him.Â
With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect.Â
You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. Itâs bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you donât know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, itâs very clear he doesnât know what to do.Â
You pull away for air, Peterâs pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like itâs spinning, the girl heâs always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how youâre holding him to you, how youâre tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how youâre leaning back in, how heâs holding you into him.Â
You take the lead, itâs slow but you build his confidence, heâs a quick learner.Â
In minutes youâre nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, youâre about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peterâs locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get.Â
All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.
He claims he doesnât know much, but it feels like heâs intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt.Â
Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know heâs doing something right.Â
Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. âFuck, Peter,â itâs breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life.Â
Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth.Â
âOh, wow!âÂ
Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. Youâre grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peterâs mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.
Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up! Â
âHey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?âÂ
Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peterâs hand pressed into the back of your head. Heâs sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.
âYes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.â As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldnât let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peterâs waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart.Â
Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-
âYouâd love it, itâs roasted garlic, real pieces too!âÂ
It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you werenât looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peterâs chest, âsounds good.â May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling.Â
âAre you gonna hide from me forever?âÂ
If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, âPeter made brownie cookies.â May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. âEver since that first plate of cookies Peterâs been baking like itâs his job.âÂ
Heâs perfect.
âYou made the cookies?â Peter had told you May did, youâre sure of it. He nods quickly, âI figured if I told you, youâd think they were poisoned.â
You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.
Itâs dramatic, but youâll bite. âSmart boy.â Peter has a gleam in his eye, âI really am.âÂ
May knows when sheâs third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips.Â
It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greeneâs advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave.Â
You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you canât imagine the burn this could leave.
âI should go,â you canât look him in the eye, heâd suck you back in. Youâd never be able to leave, you have to leave.
âIs this because of May? Cause we can leave and..â You shake your head fast and take a step back, heâs too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and⌠loving. You donât deserve him or what he brings, you canât bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like.Â
âNo, not May.â There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror.Â
âI told you, you shouldnât have done that.âÂ
Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. âYou asked if I wanted to do it again.â He canât use logic, it wonât work here. âThat didnât mean do it again.âÂ
âYou sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.â You feel choked for air, heâs backing you into a corner.Â
âYou understood wrong. I need to leave.â Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue.Â
âDonât do this. I know what youâre doing, and it doesnât end well for either of us. Weâre not eight anymore.â Your game was called, you didnât want to do this, you donât want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him?Â
âDesperation isnât a good look on you.âÂ
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. âOf course it isnât.â Youâre very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldnât have kissed you. He brought this on himself.Â
âNothing is.â Whatâs a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, âIâll see you later.â You shake your head, âno, you wonât.âÂ
The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didnât do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him.Â
Too bad he wasnât worth the risk.Â
You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you werenât allowed to do that. So you didnât.Â
Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare.Â
âButter, please?âÂ
You cross your arms and scoff, âget it yourself, penis.â Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit.Â
âIâm sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.â It was the least authentic apology heâs ever heard.Â
âAw, let them be kids, theyâre in love.âÂ
Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. âNo, no, May⌠no.âÂ
You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more itâs announced. You canât win. Itâs brutal silence on your end, youâre shutting down into a shell of a human.Â
âOh? I thought after-âÂ
Peter has your back. âAfter we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasnât like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didnât really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.âÂ
May plays right along, and asks you directly. âDoes that mean youâre not coming over for pizza anymore?â Does that mean youâre not dating my nephew anymore?
Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if itâs different if his aunt asks.Â
âThe last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I canât imagine how bad it wouldâve been if it was my favorite.âÂ
Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks.Â
âYou donât trust Peter in the kitchen?âÂ
Youâre doing your best to ignore Peterâs eyes on the side of your face, youâre trying to pretend youâre not being vulnerable.Â
âHeâs the only person who could burn it all down.âÂ
May clicks her tongue, sheâs more focused on cutting up her dinner. âFor what itâs worth, as Peterâs aunt, heâs a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesnât mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, heâs really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.âÂ
You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. âYouâre not scared of burning yourself?âÂ
A shrug, âItâs a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what Iâve learned, burns heal.âÂ
âScars donât.âÂ
Peter tilts his head, âthey fade over time, donât they?âÂ
May speaks up, sheâs looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon.Â
âThey do.âÂ
WEEK FOUR
Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. Youâve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that.Â
Youâve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasnât going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk.Â
Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning?Â
âGood morning,â it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesnât mind you didnât use words, you were directing expression towards him and thatâs enough. âWanna walk together?âÂ
The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. âIf you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, thatâs on you.âÂ
Peterâs hot on your heels down the steps, âthatâs a total yes.â You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesnât work. âHow have you been?â Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.
âPersonally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.â Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. âI mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.âÂ
âGot it. Thanks.â You know you need to pick a side, but something in you wonât let you ignore him.Â
âWelcome. You know, if youâre free, youâre invited for dinner tonight.â You pout sarcastically, âtell May Iâll miss her presence.â Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. âShe keeps asking about you, Iâm running out of excuses.âÂ
You scoff, âexcuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.â Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a strangerâs shoulder, in one second heâs next to you again. âAnd what would the truth be?âÂ
âYou pushed yourself onto me,â you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished.Â
âHey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didnât want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, Iâm really sorry.âÂ
Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didnât want him to think he sexually harassed you.
âI was kidding, Peter. I donât think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. Iâd just rather never speak or think about it ever again.âÂ
A weary smile, âthat bad, huh?â You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. âQuite the opposite, really.â Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school.Â
âCan I ask what that means?â You nod, âsure.â You offer up no more explanation.Â
âWell?â You look at him for a second, âoh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesnât mean Iâll tell you.âÂ
âYouâre gonna inflate my ego, youâre telling me it was so good you canât put it into words.âÂ
You give him a side eye, âI wasnât aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.âÂ
âThatâs not denialâŚâ His cadence was sing-songy.Â
âYouâre in denial.âÂ
Peter shook his head confidently, âIâm not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.âÂ
You came to a halt. Heâs not allowed to feel this way, he doesnât know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks?Â
And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass?Â
Peterâs not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak.Â
You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. âDonât.â Pointing a finger at his chest, âdonât say that, donât think that, and sure as shit donât act on it.âÂ
Peter must think youâre joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. âDonât act on it? I already did.â Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe heâs been planning it for weeks.Â
How long has he liked you?Â
It doesnât matter. Youâll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesnât know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe heâd find it more sincere if it comes from the heart.Â
âPeter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldnât put that on my worst enemy. Itâs a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you donât eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? Itâs shit, Peter.âÂ
âBut was it worth it?âÂ
Did he not hear anything you just said? âWhat does that mean?âÂ
Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, âyou loved him, right?â You donât need to give an answer, he already knows it. âDo you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?âÂ
You lick your bottom lip, itâs been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didnât know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But thatâs the worst part, with Peter you donât know what it would feel like. Youâve only had a glimpse and it tells you that itâs something thatâs going to change you forever.Â
If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, itâll kill you, itâd be nothing like when he did it and you canât take the gamble.Â
It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter youâd take ten steps back and never be the same.Â
âThere isnât always a silver lining, Peter.â You refuse to answer.Â
âSo, what, youâre never going to fall in love again?â Peterâs matching your pace again, you canât wait until youâre in the four safe walls of Midtown.Â
âNo, I just canât fall in love with you.âÂ
âCanât is a funny word choice.âÂ
âWonât.â You exhale sharply, âI wonât fall in love with you.âÂ
Peter has no interest in your claim, âitâd be easier if you just said you didnât like me, but youâre not.âÂ
You donât have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and youâll be doing just that.Â
âI donât like this conversation anymore and Iâm ending it.â It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea.Â
âBreak up with me.âÂ
Your steps slow, his did the same. Peterâs hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, âhuh?âÂ
âYou said I donât know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.â Heâs entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick.Â
âIâm not going to break up with you, Peter. I canât get another tardy slip.â You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. âTen seconds, just end it.âÂ
âNo.âÂ
âCâmon, itâll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.âÂ
âWeâre not dating. I canât dump you, even if I wanted to.â What happened to ending the conversation?Â
You hear the smirk when he speaks. âIf.â
âIâm not playing your word games, Peter.â Because youâre not.Â
A laugh, âthen break up with me.âÂ
You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think itâs a joke, does he think youâre playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do.Â
Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. âI canât break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldnât know how to handle losing you. Youâd hurt me too bad and I canât take that risk.âÂ
Peterâs voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. âI canât break up with you either. Youâd be able to hurt me just as bad.â It takes you from your trance, âyou would. Because Iâm a bad girlfriend. If I wasnât he wouldnât have replaced me before he could end it.âÂ
Peterâs eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. âHey, woah, letâs pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you werenât, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.âÂ
Itâs nice of him, but he doesnât know that. âWe didnât talk, you donât know I wasnât a bad girlfriend.â Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. âHe made you cry all the time,â the words followed by your name. âBad girlfriends donât cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.âÂ
Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an âIâm sorryâ for something you didnât know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?
If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and thereâs no crossing it, but itâs nice living in a moment make believe.Â
âYouâd never be able to call me babe.â It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it.Â
You get flashed with a toothy grin. âThatâs okay, I have a million to choose from.âÂ
Or the obvious hang up, âMay would totally hate me too, she knows Iâll take your virginity.â Peter waves you off, âwe donât know that.â You quirk an eyebrow, âwe donât?â Peter corrects himself, âshe doesnât have to know that.âÂ
You chuckle from the back of your throat. âBut she will. You wouldnât be able to hide it. I definitely wouldnât be able to hide it.â Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if youâre both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?âÂ
âI donât know. Itâs like, you just get a lot more⌠touchy, I guess. Nothingâs off limits anymore.âÂ
A monotone reply, âyeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.âÂ
It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns.Â
âIt wouldnât work between us, Peter.â
You feel sad, thereâs no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than youâd let yourself give and you wanted more than youâd let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and youâd never forgive yourself.Â
Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you donât know how youâd ever be okay again.Â
âIf you think so.â His kind smile doesnât meet his eyes. Itâs a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.
Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart.Â
This was all Natalie Greeneâs fault. If she wasnât stuck states away at a funeral she wouldâve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peterâs.Â
It could also be Peterâs fault. He shouldâve never kissed you like he did, he shouldâve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesnât he know you could never forget it?Â
It also didnât help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor.Â
It had been three days of nothing and that wasnât Peterâs choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didnât want him in your life, he wouldnât be. Doesnât he know that just makes you want him more?Â
Peter wasnât at the party, you didnât expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful heâd surprise you and show up. He didnât. But that didnât mean he wasnât on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldnât.Â
You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door.Â
Itâs Peterâs fault. He really shouldnât have kissed you like that, he doesnât understand his power.Â
Harsh banging. Itâs over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldnât get enough of you.Â
If you couldnât date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?
Faster knocking, why isnât he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didnât look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers.Â
When the fuck did he get so toned? You wouldâve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you.Â
âYouâre so lucky Mayâs on overnight duty.â No, youâre lucky because heâs half naked and sleepy, youâve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like youâre dying and only he could save you.Â
You canât help it, your palm connects with his chest, itâs there longer than a second. Itâs less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, âwhat are you doing here?âÂ
Your thumb traces his collarbones, âI brought you pizza.â Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned.Â
âAt one in the morning?â Peterâs amused, you donât think he wouldâve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, âI was thinking of you.â You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice.Â
Peter takes it with a smile. âThanks, kid.â You donât know why, but you really like that one.Â
âCan I come in?â If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing. Â
Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. Itâs one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot heâll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic.Â
You donât think youâve ever been this fascinated with him.Â
âNow I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.â Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like youâre flying. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesnât need water but you do and heâs not about to make you feel singled out.Â
You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling.Â
âI donât know, but I just get it.â Heâs letting you do all the talking, itâs odd, youâre not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what youâre doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out.Â
You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced.Â
âDo you see where Iâm sitting?âÂ
Peter nods, âI do.âÂ
Your fingers tap on the countertop, âremember the last time I sat here?â Peter breathes deep, you wonder if heâs thinking about it right now. âI do.âÂ
You wait. He makes no move. Whereâs your kiss?
âWell? Are you gonna do it again?â You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. Youâre making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you donât like it one bit.Â
âNo,â at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesnât he know how much you need this?Â
âWhy not? If you think this is a trick, itâs not. If you want, Iâll kiss you first.â You jump down but youâre held back by a hand, heâs literally pushing you away. Itâs a feeling that causes a tug, you really donât like it.Â
âYouâre drunk,â Peter follows the statement with your name, heâs not mean but heâs also not going to change his mind.Â
You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. âIâm not drunk.â
âDrunk enough youâre allowing yourself to have this conversation.âÂ
He has a very fair point.Â
âLiquid courage, kiss me?â Peter shakes his head, âyou made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.âÂ
You grin, âconsider it practice then.â Your words make him frown, âyou donât want this.â Who is he to tell you what you do or donât want?Â
âHow do you know I donât want this?âÂ
âBecause this isnât you.âÂ
You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesnât get to think he knows you more than you do. âYou donât know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.âÂ
âYouâre hurt and confused. I wonât take advantage of that, being mad at me wonât make me change my mind.âÂ
Where was his care coming from? He didnât care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasnât normal, was it? But itâs also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine.Â
âWhy didn't you act like this a year ago?â If he truly cares, where was it before?
âYou mean when you had a boyfriend?âÂ
Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think youâd be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? âIs that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while Iâm all confused? How long have you had this planned out?âÂ
Your words are like daggers, the things youâre alluding to, he would never do them. Ever.Â
âDonât. Iâve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why donât you?âÂ
You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you havenât felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasnât yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldnât be natural to feel magnetized to him.Â
You could tell him the truth, but youâre better at hiding behind false walls.Â
âI liked you better when you didnât care about me.âÂ
âIâm sorry you feel that way.âÂ
He knows youâre lying but he wonât make you admit it, no, heâll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you.Â
Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldnât let you chase him too?Â
âYou have a superiority complex. Thatâs why you canât find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think youâre better than everyone else and itâs a natural repellent.â You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind.Â
âI was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. Youâre going to look back on this moment and regret it.âÂ
Peter really doesnât care for your dramatics. Itâs impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. âRegret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what youâre insinuating?âÂ
âNo! I just meant that⌠I donât know what I mean, Peter! I donât know anything and youâre not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or⌠I donât know.â Your voice trails, itâs the most honest youâve been in weeks.Â
âI donât know anything anymore, Peter.âÂ
Everything youâve ever thought about love has been wrong.
He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly youâre in a permanent grin. Youâve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, itâs never been so beautiful.Â
The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter?Â
Would it feel like an agonizing death?Â
Would your wings ever be patchable again?Â
Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder youâll hit the ground. Youâre okay with falling, youâre able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing?Â
It looks like heâs trying to stop himself from hugging you, itâs a good thing he is. He might be thinking youâd yell or push him away, you think youâd just cry.Â
Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if itâs because heâs up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You wonât.Â
Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peterâs fault, heâs the one that kissed you. He started it.Â
âYou shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldnât have. Youâve fucked this all up, penis.âÂ
Peterâs tired of the blame. âYou came here,â he ends it with your name, like heâs pleading.Â
Itâs annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms youâll trick your brain and youâll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object.Â
You open the door, itâs the last time youâll allow yourself to look at his face.
Itâs Peterâs fault.Â
âBecause you made me want to.âÂ
WEEK FIVE.Â
Itâs way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while youâre locking your front door.
âGood morning.âÂ
You nod your head, âpenis.âÂ
And just like that, the mosquitoâs squashed.Â
You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. Youâre unable to sleep and miserable. Youâve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peterâs cheeks.Â
It wasnât fair to keep thinking about him, youâre doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. Youâre just finding out that thatâs not how it works.Â
3:02, you hear his window.Â
3:04, your eyes finally get heavy.Â
3:07, youâre dozing off.Â
3:10, youâre asleep.Â
It wasnât fair.Â
Three nights later, Itâs 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isnât your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you donât feel threatened, youâre curious. You pull your head from under your pillow.Â
Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. Heâs racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest.Â
If you didnât have as much distain as you did, youâd be slightly shocked.Â
âIf you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.âÂ
Peter must be dizzy, because heâs imagining you in his room.
"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."
Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.
âHey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.â
When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, itâs dizzying, at one point he has five hands.Â
He says your name questioningly, itâs hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. âYup, thatâs me. Now get out.â Peter touches his chest, itâs beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now youâre sitting up in bed.Â
âPeter, are you okay?â Itâs pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, heâs not normal. Heâs not answering, you think heâs trying but he canât bring himself to speak, heâs lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.
âPeter.â You need his focus on you.
He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, âPeter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,â heâs passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work.Â
Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly.Â
âOh, good. Youâre up.â
Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time.Â
âYeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasnât sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.âÂ
âThanks.â His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peterâs never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit.Â
âCan I get some of that or are you still punishing me?â The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst.Â
âYou passed out on me last night.âÂ
Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. âI did.âÂ
You nod, âI had to lug you up here, youâre extremely heavy when youâre dead weight.â He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex.Â
Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.
âHas anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?âÂ
âOh no, anything I could do to make it worse?âÂ
âI think another water and some advil might kill me.âÂ
âPerfect, coming right up.âÂ
Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, âI should go home and shower.â Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, âeasy, tiger. May isnât home and youâre not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.âÂ
Before you could regret the words, âif you want a shower, youâre doing it here.â He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. âNot with me or anything, I just meant so youâd have someone around.âÂ
Peter doesnât care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes.Â
âHelp me get my arm out?â Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, itâs covered in small knicks. Itâs a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown.Â
âDoes it hurt?âÂ
Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. âNot really, itâs mostly my side.âÂ
You rub his chest, âyou got a gash right here.â Itâs over his heart.Â
âGuess weâre twinsies now.âÂ
If he wasnât in pain, youâd slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until heâs left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused.Â
âYouâre trying really hard not to look at me.âÂ
âDonât flatter yourself, Parker.â You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his backâs more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products.Â
âGot it.â The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peterâs fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them.Â
âYou know, this is the part where most people leave.â Itâs teasing.Â
âI just wanted to make sure you got in okay, itâs a high step.â Itâs a quarter of the truth.Â
âIâll be alright, Iâve been doing this alone for a few years.â Peter says it like itâs an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. Heâs never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure heâs okay to shower. You wonder how many times heâs passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed.Â
âYou okay?â A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter.Â
You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldnât imagine what itâs like for him.Â
âIâm just sorry youâve had to do it all alone. It doesnât seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.âÂ
It may sound like youâre insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds.Â
âYeah. Thatâd be nice.âÂ
Seconds tick, itâs getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, âyou want me to get you anything from your place?â
âSure. Go shopping for me.âÂ
You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. Itâs too quiet, the Parkerâs are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion.Â
Peterâs bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and thereâs a few extra awards heâs tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high.Â
A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and heâs made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is.Â
Itâs something you hadnât considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard.Â
Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldnât he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You donât see how he couldnât, itâs the male version of a sundress.Â
Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, âI have your clothes.â Itâs muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy.Â
âTheyâre right here,â patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a âthanks!â and you slowly back out until youâre sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, youâre busting the door down.Â
No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peterâs fine, but youâre speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right.Â
âI feel human again, thanks, kid.â You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. âNo problem.â You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him.Â
âWhere should I put this?â You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else youâd be half tempted to sniff it. âDid you tell May I was here?â You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, âyeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasnât sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.â You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt heâd get a third degree.Â
âI think she interpreted it as us hooking up.â Another breath, âI did not correct her.âÂ
Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. âNice.â You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically canât.Â
âMay knows, by the way.â You nod absentmindedly, âanyone else?â âA couple friends.â You almost make a quip like âwow, you have friends?â but you really canât find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him.Â
âCan I ask a question?âÂ
âShoot.âÂ
âDo the webs come out of you?â Peter lightly laughs, itâs always the same question off the bat. âNo. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.âÂ
âOh. Cool.â Youâre hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. Heâs so fucking smart itâs unfair, heâs too smart for his own good.Â
Heâs grinning at you, âis it?â You canât stop staring at his mouth, âyeah.â Youâd do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. âAny other questions?â Thereâs one. But itâs not about Spider-Man.Â
âNot really.â Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, âI think you are the least curious person to find out about this.â You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way.Â
âGive me the cliff notes.â Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while heâs distracted you move in closer. âBit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-â You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder heâs a contender for worlds fittest man.Â
You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesnât say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. â-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think thatâs pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anythâŚâ
 Now or never.
You push up and straddle Peterâs waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him.Â
Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours.Â
You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesnât last. You kiss over his jawline, you canât hold it in, you canât fucking stop yourself. âYouâre so fucking hot,â wet marks are dotted down his neck. âI wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.â Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold.Â
Youâre kissing anywhere you can reach, âyou gotta stop,â it comes out in a puff. âYouâre killing me here.â Too bad, not so sad, youâre latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize heâs not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself.Â
You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. âLay back,â he does, you lean over him, youâre marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then⌠the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you mustâve blocked out the advanced healing perk.Â
Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peterâs breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as heâs heaving for air, Peterâs trying to follow your kiss.Â
Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. âI wanna suck you off.â
Thereâs a pause, then he sits up on his elbows.Â
âDoes this mean you want to be my girlfriend?â Does it? You donât think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust heâd take care of it is too much.Â
âNo.âÂ
Heâs sad. Itâs not just something you think, itâs something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing.Â
âMay told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.â You swallow tightly, youâre not liking how this is sounding. âAre you mad at me?â You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, itâs debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. âIâm not a fucking rebound.â But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you.Â
Peter doesnât use the f word, not ever.
âWhether Iâm your girlfriend or sucking your dick, youâd still be a rebound.â Silence rings around the room. Peterâs voice is tight when he answers you.Â
âIs that all you think of me? Just a rebound?âÂ
You donât know how to be honest with him. You never have. âWould I be wrong?âÂ
âVery.â Itâs clipped. Youâve never heard Peter with an edge and you donât like it. You really donât like being on the other side of his frustration. Heâs only ever been soft and kind with you, you canât handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter.Â
You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peterâs upset you donât know if you could handle more. Youâve never felt Peterâs cold shoulder before and it hurts.
âIâm sorry. I didnât mean it.â Itâs bullshit, Peter can sense it too. âYou did.â You chew on your bottom lip, âI did, but not like that.â Peter seems taller than normal when heâs standing over you, you canât look him in the face, itâs nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth.Â
âDo you even like me or are you just horny?â You canât allow yourself to answer him.Â
âIâm an idiot.â Your face turns in, Peterâs laughing at himself. âIâm such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.â Youâre looking up at him but heâs already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm.Â
âYou donât like me. You never did and now Iâm trying to make pieces fit where they donât.â Heâs staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, heâs saying it for himself. âIâm not a rebound.âÂ
âYouâve never been properly loved and it shows.âÂ
And thatâs the most brutal thing he couldâve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you canât stop it.Â
âI fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.âÂ
No surprises there. âYeah, I know.â He sounds just as defeated.Â
When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But youâre not listening.Â
WEEK SIX.
You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you couldâve had. âIâm sure heâll come around babe, he likes you a lot.â You shake your head, ânot anymore. He hasnât answered any of my texts in three days.âÂ
You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldnât let you. Youâd sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused.Â
You think you broke him.Â
âHave you tried talking to him? In person?â You shake your head, he doesnât want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible.Â
âNat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I donât know what that means.â Your friend hugged you close, âit means you love him more than you ever did him.â You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it.Â
It doesnât matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter wonât talk to you anymore.Â
âYou shouldâve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. Itâs likeâŚâ You take in a sharp breath, youâve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. âItâs like I used him.â Natalie Greene doesnât bullshit but sheâs still soft as ever with her response, itâs purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. âYou did.âÂ
Sheâs your best friend. She should be on your side. âBut I didnât! I just-â
âYeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.âÂ
Well, when she puts it like thatâŚÂ
âOf course heâs going to think you flipped your script, youâre the one who kept pushing after you told him no.â Peterâs words echo in your mind, âI respect your no, so why donât you?â Because you canât allow yourself to have him, thatâs why. But⌠you already do, donât you? Or, you did.Â
âHeâs gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.âÂ
âBecause youâre fighting it. I get it, babe, Iâve been where you are a dozen times. But you donât get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know itâs Peter Parker and heâs been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, heâs right there matching your stride.âÂ
You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. âI think Iâve always liked him.â You could finally admit it. Natalieâs been there for months, years possibly. âI know. You always talk about him.âÂ
You scrunch your eyebrows, âno I donât.â Natalie thinks you mustâve said a funny joke because sheâs laughing like it. âYeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you donât notice everything they do.âÂ
You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip.Â
Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months.Â
When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself.Â
When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call.Â
Then thereâs the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why youâve always hated her too.Â
And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined.Â
When he stumbled up the steps.Â
When he hit his head with his locker.
When he stepped on his glasses.Â
When he was tackled in flag football.Â
When he tripped over his shoelace.Â
When he got glue in his hair.Â
When he winced while dissecting a frog.Â
When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didnât make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind.Â
When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it.Â
When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired.Â
When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes heâd send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back.Â
âNatalie,â you can hear it in your voice. Itâs dangerous. Itâs terrifying.Â
Itâs worth it.Â
âI think Iâm in love with Peter Parker.âÂ
Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back.Â
Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel.Â
Step two: See above.Â
There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you thatâs all you could do.Â
One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, itâs soft enough you hope itâs unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeatâs in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt.Â
A smidge of relief, no one heard you. Youâre about to quietly escape, May doesnât let you off that easily. Sheâs surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. âHi, May. Is Peter home?â Sheâs got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before sheâs smiling sweetly.Â
âSorry, honey. Heâs out with some friends.â You know heâs right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. âCan I leave you with a message?â May stands straighter, she wasnât expecting this. âOf course.âÂ
âCan you tell him Iâm sorry? And that Iâve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that heâs the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?âÂ
May ignores the colorful language and youâre thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. âIâll let him know.â Thereâs no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that heâs allowing May to keep up the charade. You donât know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you donât deserve it.Â
âThanks, May.â You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. âHeâs⌠Heâs okay, right?â Your heart thumped slowly, youâre reading her face like itâs your job, you need to know heâs okay.Â
A tight nod. âHeâs okay.â You can breathe a little better. âGood.âÂ
You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts.Â
Is this an asshole move? Yes.Â
Is this worse than what youâve already done? Possibly.Â
Peter still wasnât talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasnât answering your texts. You think itâs time to fight fire with fire. Youâre standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No oneâs on the other side, but he doesnât know that.Â
âHello? Yes, Iâm looking for J. Jonah Jameson?â Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. âI understand heâs busy. Well I just⌠Uh huh, right, I understand, yes maâam. Is he interested in Spider-Manâs identity?âÂ
You hear something drop inside his apartment.Â
âYeah, I know who Spider-Man is.â Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, youâre not connected to anyone. âThatâs a low move.â You lightly shrug, âdid you expect anything more than that?âÂ
A scoff, ��with you? No.â Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, thereâs no trying, heâs an unstoppable force, youâre moving with him. âIâm sorry! Peter, please! Iâm sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.âÂ
Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, youâre looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. âYouâre not a rebound. Not at all. I shouldâve never called you one.âÂ
Thereâs a lot youâve done to Peter you never shouldâve done. Maybe itâs time you start owning up to it.Â
âI shouldâve never said you were a rebound, I shouldnât have kissed you, I shouldnât have shown up here drunk, I shouldnât have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldnât have ignored you for nine years, I shouldnât have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldnât have hurt you.âÂ
Peterâs not saying anything and you donât mind. You need to say this, you need him to know.Â
âI shouldnât have hurt you. I meant what I told May. Youâre the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. Youâre Peter. Youâre nice, youâre warming, youâre always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.âÂ
You blink through your tears. âYou were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.â Your chest feels tight, âyouâre so good to me, even when I donât deserve it. I really donât deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-âÂ
âIâm here.â Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. âIâm right here, okay?â Itâs the selflessness that really gets you. Youâve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peterâs hugging you because you need it.Â
But really, itâs because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than youâre willing to admit to him yet.Â
âCan you catch popcorn with your mouth?âÂ
Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed.Â
âOkay, turn off the powers and try again.â He laughs at you, âit doesnât work like that.â You huff, âwell, make it.â Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. âHa. Loser normy.âÂ
âDid you just call me a normy?âÂ
âYouâre just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but itâs true.âÂ
Thereâs been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. Thereâs no more kissing, but youâd really like there to be. You think Peterâs starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, youâll do it.Â
But itâs all in the timing.Â
âDid I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said sheâd do heroin with me?â Popcorn spills on the couch, Peterâs darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. âWe didnât do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks sheâd do it with me.âÂ
âMiserable? What, about the breakup?âÂ
âYeah,â you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesnât hurt to talk about. Itâs not even a little sore, thereâs no bitterness or resentment. Thereâs nothing there. Itâs pure indifference.Â
You pushed Peter away because you didnât want him to be a rebound, you didnât want to use him to get over someone else. But you havenât thought of him since⌠since⌠you canât remember the last time you actually thought of him.Â
But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure heâs home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday.Â
Youâre in love with Peter and only Peter.Â
âI donât know why I ever thought he was worth that.âÂ
Peter has the answer, itâs muffled around popcorn. âCause you loved him.â You pick a piece off Peterâs shirt and crunch down on it. âYeah, I donât think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.â Â
He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. âIs it weird if we cuddle?â Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, heâs never cuddled with a girl before but heâd be an idiot to say no.Â
âWeird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?â Peter doesnât care about the answer. âThose are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.â Itâs all you needed, you press up against him and wait, heâs not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. Youâve never been this close to him, youâve kissed him and youâve made a bold move that backfired, but youâve never been this soft or domesticated with him.Â
Peterâs heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate.Â
You expected Peter to still like you but you havenât asked. After what happened maybe he decided youâd be better friends. It wasnât talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened.Â
But it did and youâre glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite.Â
âDo you still like me?âÂ
âIâm sorry, Iâve never cuddled with anyone before so I donât really know what-âÂ
âNo, I mean do you still like me?â Peter knows what you mean. He doesnât know how you think he doesnât. âOf course I do.â You peek up at him, heâs already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm.Â
âEven after I was shitty to you?â Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. âHoney, youâve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasnât slowed me down one bit.âÂ
Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one youâve always liked hasnât ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peterâs voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness.Â
âCan you call me sweetheart?âÂ
âIs that the one you like?âÂ
âYeah.âÂ
âSure thing, sweetheart.âÂ
Itâs so much sweeter than you imagined.Â
Youâre not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasnât said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time youâre with Peter. Her tone isnât clipped and sheâs just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isnât fully trusting.Â
May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peterâs lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove youâre not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didnât seem convinced, but she left it alone.Â
Two days ago she burst into Peterâs room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldnât handle her rules, he wasnât allowed to have company.Â
Peter didnât tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were.Â
âI just donât get why youâre making such a big deal out of this, May. Sheâs just-â You werenât going to be involved, you werenât going to give May more ammo.Â
âDoor stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.â Peter doesnât agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much?Â
But the real hint was when you werenât welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. Thereâs never been a time May denied you food, most of the times sheâd come over begging you to join so they wouldnât have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day.Â
You watched Peterâs jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You donât think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasnât- no matter how hard it would hurt, youâd stay away from Peter.Â
May is all he has and youâre not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you.Â
Peter was staying late at school for math club and itâs your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. Sheâs surprised but she melts into a smile, itâs lacking something. âOh! Peter isnât here.âÂ
âI know. I wanted to talk to you.â Now youâve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them.Â
âMay, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?â Thereâs a beat of silence, âare you dating him?â You swallow a bite, ânot yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.âÂ
âYouâre asking for my blessing?â You slightly nod. âMore or less. Youâve been really nice but I feel like thereâs a little tension. I feel like you donât totally trust me with him.â Confirmation, but it doesnât hurt like you think.Â
âPeterâs a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he���ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?â Can you? Yes. Itâs without a doubt. You want him and only him and youâd lay your life on the line. Thereâs been so much wasted time, Peter couldâve been your first but you were too stubborn.Â
Peter wasnât your first, but with everything in you heâs going to be your last.Â
âYes. Iâm in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.âÂ
Mayâs mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and sheâs hugging you. A whisper in your ear, âI always knew this is how it would end.â You grin into her shoulder, âreally?âÂ
âPeterâs nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.â You know what that means. âAre you giving me your blessing?â She laughs and pulls you closer, âyou always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.âÂ
Time passes quickly, youâre three cookies down and youâre itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, youâre fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you canât bite back your smile or tapping feet.Â
âWhatcha doing here? Hi May.â Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. âI came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.â How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? Heâs the prettiest person youâve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck.Â
âI missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Donât answer, I already know itâs a yes.â Peterâs still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. âI wouldnât be too confident about that, sweetheart.â Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. âMathew Ryan is in the club with me.âÂ
âI hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.â His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. Mayâs watching with heart eyes, sheâs never seen you so happy. âYouâre laying it on thick today. You must need something.âÂ
âJust you, handsome.â Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you canât hold it in. You just love him too much, itâs uncontainable. Heâs perfect. âMay, sheâs up to something. I donât trust it.â His aunt keeps grinning. âI do.âÂ
Peter pats your back, âif you trust it, I guess I have to, too.â You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. âWhat, now?â You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention.Â
âWhatâs up?â Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. âCan I shut the door?â A three second count, âpermission granted.â It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention.Â
âYou said I was never properly loved.âÂ
Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but thatâs not something thatâs forgettable, thatâs something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but thatâs not who he is and thatâs not what he does and he really shouldâve apologized way before now.Â
âIâm so sorry, I didnât mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-âÂ
âYou werenât wrong. I havenât been properly loved. But Iâd like for you to show me how it feels.âÂ
Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. âJust to be clear, youâre asking me-âÂ
âIf youâd be my boyfriend.âÂ
You let out a soft groan, youâre spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. âPeter!â He doesnât care, your feet lightly dangle, youâre laughing with him. âNuh uh, youâre not allowed to push me away anymore, Iâm your boyfriend.âÂ
Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, thereâs a new one you havenât felt before. Pride. Youâre prideful that Peterâs your boyfriend, youâve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and heâs going absolutely nowhere. Ever.Â
âIâve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.â A flurry of kisses over your face, âholy wow, youâre my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!âÂ
âHoly wow?â You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. âWow, wow, wowie, my girlfriendâs a hottie.â You push him away with a disgusted sound, âthatâs so gross, Peter.âÂ
âOops, let me repent with a kiss.âÂ
Itâs the fireworks again. This time theyâre blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. Itâs not lacking passion, but itâs soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs.Â
âI was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-âÂ
âNo.â This time youâre keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. âBest kisser ever,â you give him a chaste one to prove it. âMy handsome baby.â Your waist is squeezed, âyouâre too nice.â He doesnât understand, heâll never be able to understand.Â
âI wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so⌠so stupid that I couldnât see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.âÂ
Peter has secrets too. âI was friendly, but I didnât like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean⌠but then Ben died.â The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasnât something you thought about, you thought he didnât either.Â
It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, itâs something youâll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter.Â
You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard.Â
âPeter,â itâs all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didnât tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night.Â
Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies.Â
Peterâs uncle died and you made him cookies.Â
Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies.Â
You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks.Â
After two weeks he didnât need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didnât need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling.Â
But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you.Â
âYou pulled an Uncle Ben on me.âÂ
A twitch in his lips, âyou were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.â Itâs not fair for him to compare the two. âI was broken up with, I didnât have my-âÂ
âDevastation comes in all forms. Itâs not about whos is worse, itâs about being there for someone you care about.â He doesnât hide his smile, âeven if they claim to hate you for all eternity.âÂ
âI donât hate you anymore.âÂ
âSpoiler alert, you never did.âÂ
Youâve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. âAre you sure you donât hate me? Cause Iâve been really terrible to you the last month.â Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug.Â
âThatâs because youâre stubborn and didnât want to admit you liked me.â You poke his ribs, âyou knew?âÂ
âSweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.âÂ
âYeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.âÂ
The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought youâd love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor.Â
And you watched love begin again.Â
âAnything for you, girlfriend.âÂ
----
TAGLIST: (some @'s wouldn't show up :(
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itâs happening again, how did it end?
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đđŠ đđŞđ¨đŠ đŠđđ đđ¨ đ đ đđ¨đ¨
đŹđđđŻđ đĄđđŤđŤđ˘đ§đ đđ¨đ§ đą đŤđđđđđŤ
word count: 2.5k
warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything)
based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her â with just a dash of enemies to lovers
It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.
And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.
Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those âheartsâ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-
You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.
âDoes anyone hear that?â Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, âItâs like, this annoying buzzing sound?â He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.
His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.
âWhat are you even talking abou-â
âThere!â He cuts you off once more, âThere it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?â The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.
âAre you seriously implying that I'm the-â
âGod, you are hearing that, right?â Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, âLike nails on a chalkboard-â
Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and the boy's chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.
âReal mature, dickhead.â You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. âI was in the middle of a story.â
âYeah, no offense, honey, but I don't think any of us were that invested hearing you talk about the âbig tipâ that some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.â Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, âIf your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-â
âSteve, c'mon man-â Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.
âJesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?â You snap in Steve's direction.
âI'm just saying,â Steve shrugged, âProbably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet. It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.â
âWhat, and just 'cause you're a jackass that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?â You bite back.
âYeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.â
âMy need for attention?â You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you as the rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background. âYou're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.â
âWell I don't care if some prick hit on you at work-â Steve argues, âSo, I guess, if that makes me an asshole-â
âIt does, as a matter of fact,â You interrupt easily, âBecause I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, and I'm able to do so without acting like a fucking-â
âCareful,â Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, âYou're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.â
âOh, fuck off.â
â'S my house,â He returns just as quickly, âHow 'bout you fuck off.â
The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? That was the highlight of your day, because the rest of it had been a fucking disaster.
You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. You'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks squelching wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd burned yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had no choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.
âY'know what? Fine.â
You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the turn in your evening.
âWha-â Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, âWh-Where're you goin'?â
âI'm leaving,â You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, like he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. âI, um. I'll talk to you guys later.â
There are protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm still struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.
âHey! Wait up.â
Steve's voice does make you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around. Your steps finally come to a stop when he calls out to you again.
âC'mon, honey wait, wait, wait-â
You blow out a frustrated breath as he finally catches up with you, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.
âI really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?â An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache thatâs begun to pulse between your brows, âJust.. Not tonight.â
You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back around. You lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.
The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. Thereâs warmth seeping into your palms from beneath Steveâs tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from inside. Your eyes are level with his chin, wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. Youâre still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.
âI'm sorry.â Steve says quietly.
Itâs only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face smelling of the gum heâs always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way heâs leaning in-
The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You canât think, and youâre not sure youâre even breathing, but his lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. Youâre gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steveâs arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.
His tongue brushes against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.
Your head is a little fuzzy when your lips separate long enough for you to take a breath, and youâre gasping comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steveâs quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the back of your neck.
âYou kissed me.â The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. Youâre terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.
âI did,â Steve agrees just as quietly, âI did do that.â
His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different â casual, tender, sweet and unhurried. Like heâs kissing you just because he can.
âYou-â Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, âY'r still doing it.â
âMhm.â He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.
âWhy-â
Kiss.
âAre you-â
Kiss.
âKissing me?â
Steveâs breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, âDâyou want me to stop?â
âNo. Hell no.â
And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.
He looks so pretty like this, you think. The light shining above your heads catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.
You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.
âIf I'd known kissing you was all it took to shut you up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.â Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.
His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, âMaybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.â
You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, âMaybe we will.â
When his lips descend on your own again, it takes ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.
Itâs like there are hearts in his eyes.
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Unearthed | Regulus Black
Synopsis: You felt your world turn upside down at the revelation that your husband was a wizard, and you get a sense of deja vu when three teenagers appear on your doorstep seeking him out about a locket.
Pairing: Regulus Black x Muggle!Reader
Notes: Not canon-compliant! Word Count: 3.3k
The warbling of sparrows stir from the swaying trees and into your open window, bristles of morning wind brushing against your night clothes. You stare intently at the stove to your side, back pressed against your kitchen island as you mentally count. The glistening finish of your sage-colored tea kettle shone at you as you pace forward to remove the instrument off the flame.
Regulus was still asleep and the last thing you needed was to interrupt his rest because you wanted a cup of tea. As you steadily pour the water into your mug, your mind spirals into a wave of nostalgia.Â
It had been nearly two decades now since the man stumbled into your life with proper-fitted clothes and a closet of skeletons. You hadnât met Regulus by any conventional means, having found him stumbling around blindly in front of your house, clutching at his head. You remember that it took a few days for the boy to wake after that night, his lithe figure draped across your couch as the sun rose and set. Those days of waiting felt like centuries now that you thought about it. You had been springing back and forth, debating on running over to the closest town for a doctor, but luckily, the boy woke just as your resolve hardened.Â
The first thing you had done when Regulus managed to sit up in your living space was offer him a cup of tea, trying to give yourself time to formulate questions as he steadied himself with reality again. He had informed you that night that he had been mugged, and had escaped into the fields within an inch of his consciousness. You had known that he was lying, recognizing that no one was even within a mile radius to do such a thing to him, but you somehow grew to care for him despite your suspicions. After many months of coexisting in your home, with Regulus taking on a good heft of the house chores, he had opened up to you about his family and home life.Â
You both sat staring into the streaks of flames stirring in your fireplace, the room gradually becoming enveloped in a blanket of grey as the sun sank further along the horizon.Â
âMy parents were not good people.â Regulus murmured into the darkness, eyes trained on the pillars of heaty orange lapping at the blocks of wood and bark.Â
You gulp and nod along, âDead like mine, too?âÂ
âDead to me,â Regulus supplied, hand reaching up to push his curls back as he continued, âI was not pulling your leg when I told you I had been mugged that night. My parents⌠they stripped me of my freedom and choices. There wasnât a day that passed by where I could pinpoint my true aspirations or future. Not a day where I could lift the veil that disillusioned me since birth.âÂ
Your lips slant down at the abrupt confession, and you could feel your fingers itching to rest on his hand for comfort. Heaving in a tense breath, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your curiosity bleed through, âAnd the rest of your family?âÂ
âThe same, but my Uncle Alphie, he was different,â Regulus hesitates for a few moments, and you see his face darken, âso was my older brother.âÂ
Another year after that, he finally cleared up a majority of your suspicions by demonstrating his magic. You went to bed in denial for a week, unable to maintain eye contact with him the whole while as you felt your world flip inside out. Once the reality sank in, you had demanded answers about the secret society that he fled from, trying to wrap your head around the influx of information.Â
âSo⌠magic.â You breathe out, eyes flying around the perimeter of your kitchen as you lean back against the faded wooden counter.Â
Regulus allows himself a small small before he drops his gaze down towards his dinner plate, âYes, magic.âÂ
âTell me more.â Your tone splintered into brusqueness, leaving no room for Regulus to dodge away.  Â
Regulus, to his credit, seems hardly perturbed by your request. Nodding jerkily, he takes a sip of water before motioning for you to sit across from him, âWhat would you like to know?âÂ
âEverything. Start from the beginning.â Your words are coated in anticipation, eyes glittering brightly as your mouth sets into a firm line.Â
Laughter bubbles in Regulusâ throat and he shoots you an indecipherable grin, âAs you wish.â
It was a slow process of acceptance, one convoluted with your developing feelings for the boy, eyes no longer seeing a stumbling, comatose boy, but a dependable and bright partnerâa life partner.Â
You both stewed in silent pining and agony for a few more months before the tension boiled and tipped over the precipice one night with a silent kiss by the fireside. As your relationship continued to bloom, you both decided to move toward the city with the last of your savings.Â
âAre you certain?â Regulus whispers against your lips, eyes trailing across the plane of your face.Â
You nod and bring a hand to thread through his hair, âI have the money. Besides, a change of scenery would be nice.âÂ
Regulus hums and catches your lips in a swift kiss, bringing his arms to wrap around your figure.Â
Once you both edge back to breath, he gives you a boyish grin before musing, âThank you.âÂ
âGood morning, love.â A groggy voice cuts through the air as you squeeze your tea bag against the side of your cup with a spoon.Â
Swiveling your head over your shoulder, your mouth tugs upwards as you take in Regulusâ disheveled appearance, âHello, dear. Youâre up early today.âÂ
Regulus draws his arms around your waist before kissing your temple as he hums, âCouldnât sleep without you.âÂ
You huff out a laugh before dropping a hand down to pat his arm, âYou donât have work today, right?â Your eyes drop down to your mug as your head flits through several thoughts about Regulusâ work duties, pleased that the company was flexible, yet you still vied for more.Â
âYeah, got the day off,â he murmurs, burying his face into your shoulder, âhow should we spend it?âÂ
âThe new bookstore around the corner?â You hum as you sip on your tea, noting that the brew of jasmine was much more potent than usual.Â
Regulus shifts from behind you and maneuvers his chin over your shoulder, âSounds like a plan. Which reminds me, I should get our bookcase built today, too.âÂ
âLots to do.â You murmur absentmindedly, not bothered by the fact that Regulus was now inching to take a sip of your tea.Â
He takes a small mouthful of the cooling beverage before brushing his lips against your cheek, âWe have all the time in the world, love.âÂ
âThat we do.â
The day seems to speed by in a blur, shrouded with an atmosphere of serenity and bright clouds. Your walk with Regulus through the idyllic streets is bundled with small lingering touches and peaceful silence. As you drift through the bookstore with your husband, you find yourself suppressing a smile as Regulus opts to carry the growing collection between you both, not a peep of complaint slipping past his lips as the sea of pages lengthen in height.Â
He had always been good to you in that way, and at first you had chalked it up to him repaying you for providing sanctuary, but you soon learned that such manners were practically instilled in his bones.Â
As you both trail towards the check-out line, an idea strikes you and causes you to hum audibly. Regulus peers over at you with an inquisitive gaze, curiosity barred by the need to shuffle forward in line.Â
âDear, we should invite Severus over for dinner.â You mutter in hopefulness, feeling a familiar mawkish pang bud in your chest. Regulus maintained few ties to his life before you, but Severus had been a near constant presence in your life ever since you encouraged him to invite someone to your wedding. You had initially been nonplussed by the doleful man, aware of the turmoil and despair that practically radiated off of him, but you grew to care for him nonetheless.Â
âWe have to build our bookshelf, no?â Regulus hums with consideration, eyes steeling as he notices a fussing customer holding up the line.Â
You wave him off and lift a finger to run along the spines of books in his arms, âSeverus can help us if anything. Itâs good to get things done without certain abilities every once in a while.âÂ
Regulusâ lips flicker into a minute grin as he nods, âIâll send for him when we return home, but he did say he would be rather occupied for a while last time we corresponded.âÂ
You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought, a tidal wave of unease washing over you, âI hope everything is alright.âÂ
âSeverus is quite capable, heâll be okay.âÂ
The lingering traces of worry that pervade your mind fail to dissipate as you walk hand-in-hand with Regulus, the both of you intent on heading home as quickly as possible as streaks of grey clouds roll across the sky.Â
A sense of foreboding coils around your nerves as you tread closer towards your destination, head thrumming as the sound of your shoes clicking against the concrete permeate into the air. Regulus seems to share your feelings of inexplicable unease as you feel his grip tighten on your hand.Â
As you both round the corner of the street and near your front door, you feel yourself stop in your tracks as three figures come into view.Â
âReg?â Your words are barely above a whisper as confusion ousts your previous apprehension.Â
Regulus mirrors your feelings, and his perplexity is palpable as he slowly inches forward, âJust some kids, I think.âÂ
You both mutely compose yourselves as your pacing resumes. As your footsteps echo into earshot for the trio, they all spin around with wide eyes. Your eyes drop down towards the redheaded boyâs hand, gaze narrowing as you discern the outlines of a wand.Â
Regulus seems to draw the same conclusions and he steps in front of you as his eyebrows furrowed together, âHello, can we help you?âÂ
The three kids, probably no older than 18, share silent looks before the curly-haired girl steps forwards and nods, âYes, hello. Weâre looking for Regulus Black, do you happen to know where we can find him?âÂ
Your thoughts sputter and whirl as your gaze burns into Regulusâ head, trying to correctly assess the situation at hand. It was entirely possible that these newcomers were enemies seeking to drain Regulus of his life, but it was also plausible that they were completely harmless and you were overestimating the danger and animosity of wizards in general.Â
Regulus seems to stew over the same dilemma, and you catch the calculative look that flashes across the girlâs face as she considers your husbandâs hesitance. You decide to interject into the tense silence, not wanting to see the situation escalate, âHello, Iâm Y/N. Sorry, we donât get many visitors in the neighborhood. Are you all a part of a youth group? A church? Unfortunately, if this has to do with fundraising, I donât think the Blackâs are interested, neither will most residents on this street. Perhaps, you can try with the Millerâs down over at that blue house.âÂ
You plaster on an assuring smile as you point over to yonder, feeling Regulus inch towards you until he was practically pressed against your back. The girl hesitates and looks over her shoulder at her companions as they silently begin to communicate again with wide eyes and emphatic eyebrow raises.Â
Finally, one of the boys steps out and into direct view. Your eyes run across his face, catching against his round glasses and black fringe. Regulus tenses against you as the boy peers towards him with striking green eyes, and youâre almost too entranced by their vividness to stay on guard.Â
âMy name is Harry Potter.âÂ
The announcement does absolutely nothing for you, but you feel Regulusâ breathing hitch before he relaxes. Your husband brings his hand to rest atop your shoulder as he adjusts the paper bag in his grip, âI see the resemblance now, Harry Potter. Why donât we all head inside?âÂ
You mask your bewilderment at the invitation, turning to send a questioning glance at Regulus. The man merely shoots you a look of conflict before he guides you towards the front door.Â
As the trio awkwardly shuffle into your house, lingering in your entryway, you shoot them a small smile before beckoning them inside. You still had your reservations, but it seemed that Regulus recognized them â or Harry, to some extent.Â
The girl slowly walks further into your home, stopping in front of your living room as she glances at the large box propped up against the wall.Â
âAh, we were planning on building a bookshelf.â You supply, bringing a hand to run across the nape of your neck.Â
The girl nods and sends you a shy smile, âIâm Hermione Granger.âÂ
âY/N Black.â
Your name seems to drop some intangible bombshell on the three young wizards as they all peer at you with wide eyes. Clearing your throat you turn towards the ginger as you gesture towards the couch, âYou can all sit. And I donât believe I got your name earlier.âÂ
They all trudge towards your couch and the boy nods towards you, disbelief still painting his face, âRon Weasley.âÂ
âA Weasley and a Potter. Interesting.â Regulusâ voice emits from behind you, evidently finished with putting your newly purchased books away. He approaches the living room and stops to stand beside you, eyes assessing the three as they shuffle uncomfortably under your husbandâs scrutinizing gaze.Â
You turn to look at him, nudging your hip against his, âCare to explain?âÂ
âAfter we get answers,â Regulus murmurs, eyes trailing towards the loveseat, âCome, love.âÂ
As you both settle on the cushions, Regulus immediately bypasses formalities, still uncertain about your guestsâ presence, âSo, there must be a reason that weâre meeting this way, Mr.Potter.âÂ
Harry visibly gulps at the intense look in Regulusâ eyes, clearing his throat as he leans forward, âYes, weâve come because of this,â you tilt your head to the side as the boy fishes out a pendant from his pocket before he holds it up to you both.Â
Regulusâ hand drops to your thigh as he hums, âI see.â His tone indicated a lack of surprise, yet an unwillingness to indulge. You knew Regulusâ ways of dancing around conversations well.Â
âYou have the real one.â Harryâs words are firm, eyes stormy as he seems to drift into thought.Â
âSo you have come to find me, and pray tell, how did you find me?â Regulusâ flinty words have Harry retreating back imperceptibly, eyes flickering away to consider his answer.Â
âWell, you used quite a bit of magic to make this.â Harry clears his throat, slowly retracting the dangling locket from the air.Â
Regulus quietly huffs through his nose, leaning back as he hums, âTracking spells. Of course. I assume youâre here for the real deal then?â
Your mind was spinning in circles as you tried to keep up with the conversation, having half the mind to be disconcerted by how you both were effectively tracked down by three kids. Hermione licks her lips before leaning forward to address Regulus, eyes scanning him with confusion, âHow did you survive that night, sir? If what Harry told us was true, that caveâŚâÂ
âYou lot arenât the sort to dawdle, are you?â Regulus muses, fingers brushing down to your knee, âTo answer your question, Ms.Granger, I received some help that night.âÂ
âHelp?â Ron interjected, eyebrows raised in perplexion as he glanced at Harry for an answer.Â
At Regulusâ admission, you redirect your attention to him, lips furling into a faint frown as you question all the hidden facets of his life. Of course, you knew the foundational details about the magical world, and perhaps tidbits of his past, but the avenue of conversation unfolding before you was completely foreign.Â
Regulus peers at you for a brief moment before he nods, âYes. Severus helped me. He gave me the antidote for the potion inside of the basin.âÂ
Ron sputters at this. âSeverus? As in Snape?â He spins to look at Hermione who looks equally dumbstruck, yet she steadily caps away her shock with a hum of acknowledgment.Â
Harry nods slowly as he runs his thumb over the pendant in his palm, âHeâs a traitor.âÂ
You gape at the uninhibited jab, wanting to insert yourself into the exchange to defend your friend. Regulus pats your knee before steadily riposting, âSelf-servitude finds companionship in loneliness.â
âIs that the life motto for all you snakes?â Ron mutters, hands clasped together as he leans his elbows on his knees.Â
Regulus seems hardly fazed by the boyâs acrid tone, eyes slowly rising to gaze away, âYou know us Slytherins. Self-preservation and then some.âÂ
âTo see the right and not to do it is cowardice.â Hermione blanches, mouth set into a thin line as she examines the wall opposite of her.Â
âConfucius.â You muse, hand trailing down to cover Regulusâ.
Regulus nods and gives Hermione a look of consideration, âGryffindor, then.â The girl nods in confirmation before tilting her head, causing Regulus to continue his train of thought, âI was a bit partial to betting on Ravenclaw. I suppose you hear that often. That being said, I implore you to examine the nuances to Severusâ situation. I can assure you, he is not your enemy.âÂ
The three teenagers seem to sink into their thoughts and Regulus takes this as his cue to slowly push himself up, giving your knee a parting squeeze as he huffs, âI do hope you all know how to destroy it, and I hope youâre able to accomplish your endeavors, Harry Potter.âÂ
Without waiting for a response, Regulus cascades out of the room and up the stairs, only the sound of his muffled footsteps occupying the hushed atmosphere. You slap your palms against your knees as you begin to get up too, mouth slanting into a small smile, âWould any of you like some tea?âÂ
The shock from the impromptu visit from the three teens stew in the air long after they departed from your home, eyes glistening with determination as Regulus relinquished the mysterious locket to them. A lingering itch of curiosity occasionally swept through your head, but you figured that there would come a time when answers would be granted to you.  Â
You just hadnât figured such a time would arise so soon after. Not even a week after meeting Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, another novel face was taking residence by your front door.Â
âHello, may I help you?â You asked pleasantly, propping your hip against your door frame as you balanced a stack of towels by your side.Â
The man surveys you with poorly concealed anxiety before he clears his throat and nods, âHi, Iâm looking for a Regulus Black. I was told he lives here.âÂ
You tilt your head and look over your shoulder at the clock, âYes. He wonât be home for another hour or two. May I ask how you know him?âÂ
âMy name is Sirius. Sirius Black. Iâm, uh, his older brother.âÂ
Shock flashes across the forefront of your mind at the manâs words, and you barely thread together any semblance of composure as you nod, âPlease come in, I think a much needed chat is in order.âÂ
âThank you.â He breathes out, straightening his coat with a gulp.Â
âMy pleasure, Sirius. Iâm Y/N Black, by the way. Which, I suppose, makes you my brother-in-law.âÂ
âWaitâI'm sorry, what?âÂ
masterlist
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t.s - the prophecy đđ¤
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Hear me out, please |James Potter
Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader
Word Count: 7.5k
Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out. A tiny twist.
Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Timeline might be a little off, but magic so whatever i guess? Sorry for the long wait, I hope you guys will think it was worth it!!
Masterlist Part one Part two
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A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.
The murmuring started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.
"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.
James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.
"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.
Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.
It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.
"A favour? A favour!?" He asked incredulously. His voice raised in volume. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He screamed and looked around; his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"
"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it opened finally James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.
James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.
No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.
If you would just let him.
"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James's sight.
"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.
"I need to talk to her."
"You've said plenty."
James 'brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.
He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.
"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.
"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."
James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.
He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.
James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.
"Okay," he relented.
Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.
"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.
With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.
James searched for his words his. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.
"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.
Perhaps he could try again later.
You stared at the glass slippers in your hand. It felt cool to the touch and looked so beautiful, but you couldnât help the bitter taste left in your mouth. With one smooth movement, you threw and smashed one of the slippers against the wall opposite of your bed. It shattered in pieces, and you had to smile at that. Even with every spell to reenforce the glass so you could actually walk on it, it broke. Then you gathered every bit of frustration you had in you, and you screamed as hard as you could, tears flowing in frustration.
You hated that you were crying. But the sheer defeat and powerlessness that you felt was too overwhelming, your voice cracked mid-scream and you threw the other slipper to pieces in anger as well. It wasnât even about the gossiping amongst the students anymore.
You were so tired; you actually couldnât bring yourself to care about what everyone must be thinking right now. But your sisters and James. You dug your nails into your palm.
You looked at your reflection in the mirror and straightened your posture. With your hands, you smoothed out your frown, fixed your hair and put on a wide smile. All in all, you looked psychopathic, but anything was better than pathetic. You turned on your heel and got ready for your first morning class.
James watched your empty seat in Divination class. This was the only class in which the last two years were put together. He wondered if you would show up. But he knew you. Possible more than anyone. So, he knew that you would never miss a class, because you wanted perfect grades and a perfect attendance rate. You were just like that. Ambitious.
James mind replayed your words again. He was every worst characteristic of Gryffindor; you had said to him. âArrogant, prideful, and recklessâ.
Next to James, Sirius was also lost in thoughts. Your words resonated in his head as well. Prejudice creates a vicious cycle. It was true. Siriusâ eyes flickered towards the other empty seat where Regulus was supposed to be. He had completely abandoned Regulus, giving his brother the cold shoulder, and despising his elitist thoughts, undoubtedly created by his mother. Because he had abandoned Regulus.
Sirius wondered what would have happened if he had tried to maintain a good relationship with Regulus after having been sorted into Gryffindor. He wondered if he would have been able to convince Regulus to run away with him.
There was a knock on the door and Regulus walked in with a blank face. He nodded his head in apology at the Professor and took a seat. The door opened again, this time with a little more force.
âMy sincere apologies, professor.â You wore a smile that sent chills up Jamesâ back. His body almost involuntarily shot up to go up to you, but he caught himself, and he longingly looked at you as you passed by instead.
After having gotten used to your discrete gestures of acknowledgement in the form of waves, smiles, nods or even winks, Jamesâ heart tugged when you didnât spare him a glance. You graciously took a seat and motioned at Professor Trelawney to continue.
James jumped up when class was over. His belongings had long since been packed, and he dashed towards your leaving figure.
âY/N!â he called out to you.
You turned around and looked him in the eye. All the words that James had prepared during the rest of class escaped his mind. James felt those chills again and he finally understood that in all his years with fights between the two of you, you had been petty, threatening to take points away. You had been angry, throwing insults back at him, and you had very much been a major asshole in general. But you had never been this hostile.
âLet me say this once, so we can all be done with it, and never talk about this again, Potter,â you sharply stated. âI am sorry that I wasnât who you wanted me to be. However, let me make it clear that this was my secret and mine to share. And I made perfectly clear that I was not going to, so your blatant disrespect to publicly call me out the way you did, is simply appalling.â
Remus called Jamesâ name and James made the mistake to look back. When he turned to you again, you were already further down the hall, turning the corner with a steady pace.
James didnât see you around anymore until Thursday morning. His eyes basically lit up and he repeated his apology in his head. âL/N, wait,â James tried, and he chased after you. Unlike last time, you didnât stop. Curious students watched you two pass while James tried to match your pace.
âHear me out, please.â
âI said all I wanted to say, Potter. Letâs stay out of each otherâs way from now on.â
âAfter you let me explain,â James pleaded.
You laughed. âNothing you tell me will change my mind. I wonât believe anything that comes out of your mouth.â You gave him an annoyed look.
Still, James was not planning on giving up. You werenât the only determined one here. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into a room. Your eyes squinted and gave him the dirtiest look they could. James immediately let go of you, hands up in defence, a string of apologies following suit.
You glared at him and went to walk straight out of the room when James pulled you back again, and this time, he cupped the sides of your face, and pressed his lips to yours.
For a moment, you hesitated, utterly confused and surprisingly rather okay with the unwarranted kiss. And then anger hit you. Did he bloody think this would woo you, and sweep you off your feet and make everything alright? How dare he kiss you in attempt to manipulate you. You slapped him across the face in shock less than a second later. James blinked back at you in horror at his own actions.
âGodric, no- I- I am so bloody sorry, I shouldnât have- Iâm- I donât know what went through my head, please wait-â You slammed the door in his face when you left. James hit his head softly against the door. And then he hit it again but a bit harder as he cursed. âWhat the hell is wrong with you mate,â he groaned to himself. âYou bloody git.â
He stared at the dark wood of the door in front of him reluctantly. To be honest, he wouldnât mind just staying in the room to rot away, how was he going to face you now?
âLily, please go in my place,â he begged the redhead. âIâll take your Tuesday shift, I promise.â
Lily shook her head. âStop being a baby, James. You reap what you sow and Iâm not patrolling tonight.â She walked past James and then turned back around.
âSome friendly advice, James, stop being so pushy. No is no, and it might have been cute as 11-year-olds, but not anymore. Weâre no longer kids. But good luck.â
James reluctantly dragged himself towards the Great Hall where he could see you pick your nails in front of the door. He felt ashamed, guilty, and absolutely not ready to look you in the eye.
âHi,â he awkwardly managed. âSo about-â
âYouâre late. Letâs get a move on it.â You cut him off.
âRight, yeah, we should do that- patrolling.â
It was quiet, not a word spoken between the two of you as James trailed half a step behind you. He glanced at the side of your face. Shadows and light flickered across your face every time you passed a torch.
The silence of the castle did him good, he realised. Heâd much rather walk in silence next to you, than be in the midst of all that chaos that was going on right now. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket happily.
âWhat are you smiling about,â you asked, a frown on your face.
âHm? What? Oh, sorry.â The smile dropped of Jamesâ face.
âWell, you donât have to stop smiling because I said so,â you shot him a strange look. âI just wanted to know whatâs so funny.â
âOh, itâs nothing.â A beat. And then, âLily told me to stop trying to apologise to you if you donât want to hear it.â
You considered his words. You supposed you mostly wanted someone to be angry at. You didnât want to hear James out and then maybe see that your anger was misdirected. You wanted to stay bitter.
âI donât.â
âOkay, well, Iâll stop.â
âGood.â
Despite the fact that he hadnât been able to apologise, and nothing had been cleared up between the two of you, both of you felt yourselves relax a little more. You continued to roam the corridors in silence.
The next three patrols were spent in the same basked silence, occasionally one or two words exchanged. James had so many things he wanted to tell you, but he didnât want to ruin anything. And then you suddenly spoke up again.
âGood luck tomorrow.â
James perked up at your words. âThank you,â he grinned at you gratefully. âAre you going to watch the game?â
You shook your head. âNo, Iâll be helping out in the infirmary.â
âDid you finish your herbal research then?â
Your eyes flickered up at him in surprise. âYeah, Madame Pomfrey and I will put it to test.â James nodded along.
âWell, if you ever need a patient, Iâd volunteer,â he joked. He watched in triumph as you shook your head in amusement.
âBetter check your broom for hexes tomorrow,â you replied. âwouldnât want you to fall off your broom and break a bone or two.â James snorted.
You pulled the curtain to the side with an exasperated expression. âI was only kidding Yesterday, Potter. What on earth are you doing here.â
James gave you a weak smile, trying to hide the pain in his arm and ribs. âVolunteering to be your very first patient, of course.â
âTell me you didnât break your bones on purpose,â you squinted your eyes at him.
âI didnât break my bones on purpose,â James obediently replied. He shifted in curiosity as you rummaged through a cabinet. âIs this not fixable with any spells?â He pondered when he saw you pull out several vials.
âExternally, yes. But youâd be in the same excruciating pain as if they were still broken. You motioned towards the vials. âHence the herbal potions.â
âIs that the one with the Nettle and Dittany?â James nodded his head to the bottle on the left.
You hummed in approval, not bothering to hide the fact that you were impressed. âWho knows, Potter. Maybe you have a future of a healer as well.â James beamed in pride at your compliment.
âJust keeping my options open.â James sighed happily. He was glad that he could joke around with you again. You tapped a bottle against his cheek. He let you pour the potion into his mouth.
âNow what?â
âNow we wait.â You pulled out a stool and sat down with a notebook in case you needed to take notes of the effects of the potion. At one point, you must have fallen asleep with your face buried on Jamesâ infirmary bed. A strand of hair was tickling your nose and you huffed to get it out of the way. James shifted to tuck it away with his non-injured hand.
You opened your eyes and jumped up. You looked around disoriented and when your eyes landed on James, who had tilted his head, you felt embarrassment creep up on you. âIâm terribly sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Are you feeling any better?â
James nodded. He sat up to prove it, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. âAll better. And if you get to apologise, so do I, right?â He looked at you hopefully, internally praying that you wouldnât just march out straight away. âWill you hear me out?â
You sighed, knowing what would come next, but this time you sat down on the stool again instead of walking away.
âI didnât know.â When you didnât respond, he repeated himself. âI didnât know it was you, and I didnât know it was going to be published in the newspaper because I wouldnât do that- you know that I wouldnât.â
He looked at you and saw you staring back at him. He took it as a sign to continue and cleared his throat. It felt so dry all of a sudden. You quietly reached for a cup of water and handed it to him. James took a sip, a deep breath, and started to ramble on without breaks.
âSirius found your parchment and then you sisters found it too, but I didnât. I really didnât. Sirius said they had already run off and he tried to fix it on his own, so he didnât tell me, and I only found out right before you did and I would never have written such a mean article about you, because weâre friends- well, at the very least I considered us friends- and I just wanted you to like me because-â James stopped.
âWhat, you fancy me?â you rhetorically commented.Â
Jamesâ heart stopped and his face flushed. âNo, of course not! I just- Well, I donât know- Itâs, uh I guess I just,â James tried to form a coherent answer, trying to weigh what answer would scare you away.
You frowned and let your eyes flicker across his face. âStop it,â you shook your head in denial.
âWould it be so bad?â James murmured. âI didnât know. But I know I liked the girl behind the paper. And I know I liked my patrol partner.â He hesitated and took a step forward. âI think you liked me too, before you knew my name.â
âYeah,â you replied. âBefore I knew your name. Once I learned it, I no longer did,â you lied. âBecause we would never work. Every student said so. All the whispers and comments, insults and rumour were right.â
James shook his head.
âSo, date me to spite them. Prove them wrong,â It was a pathetic attempt, but he saw the consideration flash in your eyes, and the more he thought about it, the more he started to get convinced that this was a decent idea.
âYouâd have us enter a fake relationship to spite everyone?â
âIt wouldnât be fake to me,â James shrugged, getting more confident by your open attitude. âAnd who knows, maybe I can convince you that the guy from the paper is still inside of me.â
âThis is so stupid,â you shook your head.
âGuess what,â Sirius asked Remus, he covered the page of the book Remus was reading to capture his attention.
Remus slapped Siriusâ hand away. âWhat,â he replied curtly. Sirius moved to sit on the table of the library. âAre you angry?â
âMildly annoyed, yes.â
âBecauseâŚâ Sirius trailed off unsurely. He hoped that Remus would finish the sentence for him, which, luckily for Sirius, Remus did.
âBecause I think itâs time you guys stop pestering her. I know you planned to get James in the infirmary. Leave her be, youâve done enough damage as it is.â He sounded disapproving. Sirius dropped himself back on the table, laying across it as if he was a sacrifice on an altar.
âProngs likes her.â
âYeah? Well, heâs handling it terribly,â Remus drily remarked. He took off his glasses and started to wipe them with the hem of his sweater. Sirius patted his pockets, reached into his left one and handed Remus a cleaning cloth for glasses.
âWhy are you guys nice to me,â Remus asked quietly.
âWhat are you talking about Moony, youâre our best friend?â
âI know, but why?â Remus lowered his voice. âIâm a werewolf, arenât I? Iâm a literal monster. So why are you nice to me. But somehow feel the need to keep pranking and bullying Slytherin students? Weâre in our last year. Donât you think we should grow up?â And with âweâ, he meant âSirius and Jamesâ.
âI know, Moony.â
âDo you now?â
âI think Iâm going to talk to Regulus.â
Remus choked on his spit. âIâm sorry, Pads, youâre what?â
âI just donât want to be like L/Nâs siblings. I know I sort of am, but I donât want to be. And you said we should start being nicer right?â
âPads, last time you said something to him, he literally hexed you.â
âI insulted him,â Sirius heard himself say and he felt weird for a moment.
âHeâs after your ass during every Quidditch game, trying to knock you off your broom.â
âWell, thatâs just the point of Quidditch,â Sirius defended again.
Remus smiled at Sirius. âAlright, just be careful. Mid-terms are coming up and Iâm too busy with studies to fix you up again.â
Sirius grinned. âIf all goes well with Prongs, I could ask L/N to patch me up.â Remus threw a quill at him. âI think Iâll go find L/N later, see if she knows where my brother is.â
The door opened and Remus looked behind him. He did a double take and put his glasses back on to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Sirius was still laying on the table, looking at the ceiling.
âI think Iâve found her,â Remus remarked, uncertainly.
Sirius sat up and gaped at the sight on you and James, walking into the library together while talking. James was holding a pile of books and by the colour of the cover, he knew that those were not Jamesâ.
âIâm sorry, did I miss something?â
You looked up in alarm at the words and found Sirius and Remus sitting at a table in the corner. âWe talked it out,â you nonchalantly mentioned. Remus gave you a smile and Sirius just stared at you. Then; âHell yeah, Prongs, I knew you had it in you to confess.â Sirius jumped off the table and patted you on the back with a grin.
You laughed back uncertainly and looked at James with questioning eyes. James looked back at you, reassuringly. He moved all of your books to one hand and guided you to a seat with the other.
âWhereâs Regulus,â Sirius asked immediately as soon as you sat down.
You raised your eyebrows. âHeâs in the astronomy tower. Didnât want to join James and I to the library.â You smiled at recollection of the younger Blackâs reaction to you and James.
âNo way.â He had replied. âWhat are you two planning?â James had looked at Regulus with an offended look. âWhat are you talking about? I fancy Y/N and she fancies me, so we decided to make it official.â
âYeah, Iâll believe you fancy Y/N, but there is just no way she would enter a relationship with you of all people. Whatâs the deal.â
Sirius nodded. âWell,â he started, âI mean, if he wants to, he uh, the library is a public space, so he could join. If he wants.â Sirius awkwardly sat down on a chair. You squinted your eyes at him. âIâll be sure to let him know,â you said. You watched as Sirius puffed out a sigh in relief.
You glanced down at the messy scribbles on Siriusâ paper and raised your eyebrows. Youâd imagined that the elder Black would have a better handwriting than that. âAnyway, do you need help with Transfiguration as well?â
The news of your relationship spread like fire. Your sisters both received it with a sour look on their faces. âHeâll see we were right, and heâll leave you again,â they said, purposely loud enough for you to hear it. James had just entered the room and walked straight past them towards you with a flower. He dropped it next to you and sat down beside you.
Against your will, your heart made a small jump and the corners of your mouth tugged upwards. Jamesâ eyes flickered towards your lips and quickly looked away happily. Then he leaned in a little and whispered, âWeâre not breaking up if itâs up to me.â
He shifted in his seat, subtly scooting over closer to you. âGo on a date with me tonight,â James whispered.
âWe donât have time tonight. Patrol, remember?â You argued back.
James grinned and shook his head. âAfterwards.â
âItâs past bedtime afterwards. I will not-â
âSneak around the castle and get caught, I know. But you forget that I have an invisibility cloak.â
You laughed this time. âIâm almost tempted to take 20 points off Gryffindor for your outrageous plan.â Your eyes twinkled and James joined in. He put his hand over his heart in fake shock. âYou wouldnât do that to your boyfriend,â he squinted his eyes, challenging you.
âIf he misbehaves,â you answer amusedly. But then you hummed in thought. âFine, Iâll bite, what do you have in mind.â
Jamesâ grin widened. âThe lakeâs still frozen,â he whispered. You deadpanned. âI canât skate.â
James leaned his head against you. âExactly, itâs the perfect chance for me to show you my gentlemanly skills and woo you.â You turned your head and breathed in the smell of Jamesâ shampoo. "You just want an excuse to hold my hand," you mumbled in his hair. You could feel James smile against your shoulder. âIâm your boyfriend, I donât need excuses,â he joked.
James swore his heartrate sped up an unhealthy amount when you confirmed, âNo you donât.â
He was absolutely beaming next to you as you were patrolling down the corridor, hand in hand. Your eyes flickered over to James once in a while. It was suspicious to you that heâd been quiet the entire time. James on the other hand was just looking at your intertwined hands with interest.
âNever held hands with a girl before, Potter?â You laughed, but no venom was found in your voice.
James nodded. âNever held hands with a girl before,â he confirmed, not ashamed at all for it. Why should he. You looked at him with curiosity. âWhat about Lily?â
James snorted. âHave you ever seen us hold hands?â
âNope,â you popped the âpâ.
âI was stressing a lot about being a good boyfriend, my hands got really sweaty,â James bashfully explained. You lifted both your hands and squeezed his hand a few times. âYou donât stress about being a good boyfriend for me?â you couldnât help but ask. You immediately groaned internally and looked straight to the floor, intently watching your feet as they simply fascinatingly put one in front of the other. I mean, have you ever seen something so-. James wasnât having it.
ââm not stressing with you. I have a pretty good feeling about us.â He sighed contently. You huffed. âWell, I have high standards, and Iâve been told Iâm pretty high maintenance, Potter.â You stuck your nose in the air haughtily.
âFirst, you should stop calling me Potter,â he remarked.
âJames,â you nodded. A chill ran up his spine. âAnd second?â you inquired.
âSecond?â
âSecond,â you looked at him expectantly.
âOh! Right, second; I didnât know you had a relationship before?â And just as soon as those words left his lips, he cussed himself out in his head. Great, now he seemed either a twat as if he couldnât believe someone like you could have a relationship, or a twat who was jealous and obsessive. And itâs only the first week. James averted his eyes to the wall on his left. Ah yes, the wall seems to be made of stone. Very sturdy, very wall-like-
âNo, Iâve been single pretty much my whole life.â You put on your usual sour face, and vaguely gestured to it. âNot very approachable, as I prefer.â
âThen who calls you high maintenance?â James thought bitterly, feeling the need to defend you. âCalm down, prince Charming,â you reassured him with a laugh. Maybe you could see the charm in his recklessness. âI can fight my own battles. And basically, everyone calls me high maintenance.â
The two of you walked side by side in silence again, making your way to the prefect room. You rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a document and started to fill it in. James leaned against the table. âWhere do you go during Spring Break? Do you stay at Hogwarts? Because I can also stay at Hogwarts to keep you company, you know.â
âI have my own apartment.â
âYouâre not even of age yet,â James pointed out, trying to hide his disappointment unsuccessfully at a missed opportunity of spending time with you.
âProfessor McGonagall vouched for me,â you replied. Jamesâ eyebrows flew up. âMcGonagall?â He asked in disbelief. You just hummed in reply while you flipped the page to continue filling in the report.
âWell, if you want you can come with me?â You stopped writing and looked up at him intently. As if you were searching his face for any hidden intentions. When you didnât find any, you gave him an apologetic look.
âThatâs kind of you, James,â you smiled. âBut I have Regulus staying with me.â
âHe doesnât stay at the Black manor?â James was surprised. You tilted your head. âTell me, does Sirius stay at the Black manor?â
James quickly shut his mouth as realization dawned on him. Oh.
âWell,â he awkwardly shifted. âYouâre both welcome,â he offered. You shook your head in laughing at the mental image. The thought of Regulus and Sirius living together for two weeks was just hilarious.
âIâm done, we can go.â
âAlright, I just need to pick up my invisibility cloak from the Gryffindor common room.â
âIâll wait here,â you nodded. James offered you a strange look.
âWhat?â You asked, looking up at him.
âYouâre not going with me?â
âWhat all the way up to the third floor? I think not,â you snorted, plopping down on a chair, and making yourself comfortable.
James huffed and didnât move. âBut what if something happens to me on the way there?â He dramatically sat down next to you on a different chair.
âWhat on earth could happen to you on the way to your room. This is Hogwarts, you know. The safest place in England probably.â
âWhat if a monster attacks me, and then I canât come back, and youâll think that I stood you up?â James retorted with a pout.
You shook your head and pinched the bridge of you nose. âThere are no monsters in this castle, James, where do you think we are? Youâre not going to run into a Basilisk on your way.â
James squinted his eyes at you. âBut can you promise me that with 100% certainty?â You rolled your eyes in response. âOf course not, but would you take me with you and expose me to such dangers?â you sarcastically retorted.
âWell, technically speaking, and Iâm not saying all Slytherins,â James held up his hands at your narrowed eyes. âSnakes are kind of your thing, right?â You closed your eyes. âCharming, you are. Letâs just go,â you sighed.
James grinned in victory as he held the door open for you. âFor the record, I would totally protect you from a Basilisk.â
âIf you say so.â
Sirius sat up in bed when the door opened, but no one came in. âHey Prongs, how was ice skating?â
James removed the invisibility cloak to reveal your shivering form. Both of you drenched from head to toe, water still dripping from the locks in front of his eyes. âGot pulled under,â he stressed. âI didnât know where to take her, I couldnât let her clean record be tainted for being out past bedtime because of me, and I donât know the Slytherin password, so I brought her here,â he started to ramble in a loud whisper.
Remus grumbled as he sat up too. âBloody hell, Prongs, did you take her to the black lake or what?â And when James didnât respond, âMate, what is wrong with you.â He got up and walked to the bathroom to get a few dry towels to wrap you in.
James discarded his soaked clothes and dried himself off before putting on pyjamas. Then the three of them stared awkwardly at each other. âWell, she needs to get out of those cold clothes,â Remus remarked. Sirius stepped back. âYeah, not my girl, not my duty,â he walked over to his bed and dropped down on it.
âRight.â
You woke up and the first thing you noticed was the red colours all around you. You sat up suddenly and blinked a few times. What happened? Oh, right. A hand had broken through the ice, wrapped itself around your ankle and harshly pulled you down into the freezing depths. So that means youâre either dead, or James got you out and brought you to the Gryffindor dorms instead of the infirmary because he kept your clean records in mind. Your heart filled with appreciation at the thought of that.
You looked around and found James on the floor next to you. He was curled up in an extra blanket, but it must be uncomfortable. You went to pull out your wand when you realised that you were wearing his sweater. The little shit changed your clothes, you huffed.
You quietly got up, found your clothes drying in the bathroom and slipped out your wand. With a quick levitation spell, you gently tucked James back into his own bed. Your eyes fell on the two parchments on the nightstand, and you allowed a nostalgic smile to adorn your face. You moved his hair out of the way and let your eyes rest on his peaceful face. Realising you were being creepy, you hastily turned around and snuck out of the room with your clothes and a rolled-up parchment.
âAnd where have you been,â Regulus sat on the common room armchair in front of the door. He looked like he hadnât properly slept, and his tone was sharp. âAnd what atrocity are you wearing. Tell me you didnât sleep with him?â
âYouâre my brother, Regulus, not my mother,â you teased him. You pulled out a chair to sit next to him. âAnd no, I went skating, fell into the water, blacked out and woke up alive in the Gryffindor dorm. So donât hex James, if anything you can thank him.â
There was a beat of silence. âIâm glad youâre okay, I was worried.â
âIâm sorry for worrying you. Did you stay up all night?â
âYes, but mostly because I wanted to tell you something.â You didnât immediately reply, waiting for Regulus to continue on his own instead.
âSirius came up to the astronomy tower yesterday evening,â he quietly said. His voice sounded confused, as if he was still unsure of what had actually occurred.
âAre you okay?â
âOf course, Iâm okay,â Regulus immediately said. âItâs just that he apologized.â He shrugged. âYou think he meant it?â
You thought it over. âI think he did. He asked me last week you know. Where you are, and that if you ever want to join us in the library, you can.â Regulus nodded deep in thought.
âYou know, James actually invited both of us over for the Spring Break.â You looked at Regulus to gauge his reaction to that. He looked slightly interested, though he tried to hide it.
âI suppose itâs still a month away, so weâll see what we want then.â
You nodded and then got up off the chair. âIâm going to change into something else, before my fellow house students want to jinx me,â you said.
âYouâre dating James Potter; people already want to jinx you.â
You winked at him. âWell, Iâll be damned, youâre absolutely right. Isnât that funny? You know what, let them try,â you challenged them as you smoothened Jamesâ sweater.
James woke up and sat up straight in bed, confused. How did he get here? He Looked at the end of his bed and saw it still neatly tucked in- hospital corners. His lips twitched up. You had left, he realised, but youâd tucked him in. He let himself fall back onto his pillow and turned his head to the side. Then he frowned, put on his glasses, and grabbed the parchment. In your lovely handwriting was a message.
Maybe not a Basilisk, but you protected me as you said. Thank you, James. (All things considered, I enjoyed last night.)
Jamesâ eyes traced the words before he carefully placed the parchment under his pillow with a giddy feeling in his heart.
James found you in the library with Remus. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that you were still wearing his sweater. Red looked out of place on you and James absolutely loved it. Sirius shared a look with him and then the both of them decided to sneak up on the two of you, simultaneously stealing your books from under you.
You and Remus narrowed your eyes at the both of them. âI am this close to kicking you guys.â You held up your hand to show your thumb and finger pressed together. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other. âBut theyâre touching,â he hesitantly responded. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs and quickly handed Remus both your books back.
You sarcastically faked a gasp. âOh, Merlin, youâre right, they appear to be.â
James cheekily grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple. âYou wouldnât hurt your knight in shining armour,â he bragged, but without any real arrogance laced in his tone. You flipped him off with a grin and pulled out a chair for him next to you. âYouâre late,â you airily said.
Sirius suddenly straightened up, his attention fixed on someone behind you. You turned around and waved Regulus over. âCome join us, Reg.â
Three weeks flew by in a blur, but- even though youâve said this so often now- your were really enjoying your time at Hogwarts again. Peopleâs gossips and predictions about yours and Jamesâ relationship had turned into quiet whispers and envy.
James stood up for you on multiple occasions- after letting you have a go at the imbeciles of course. You had finally gone to a Quidditch game to support James, though of course not when they were playing against Slytherin. You had spent more time in the infirmary and James had joined you a few times by hanging out on one of the empty beds, occasionally handing you an ingredient such as Wolfsbane.
After having established that you absolutely loved hugs, James was always less that a step behind you, ready to give you the affection that you were too proud for to admit you wanted. You had been a frequent visitor to the boysâ dorms as well, making yourself comfortable in Jamesâ arms as you dozed off for a nap. On other nights, you have even managed to persuade Regulus to join a handful of times as well. You wondered what would happen when James would graduate before you, but tried not to think much of it.
âSo, we are definitely going to Hogsmeade together this week, right?â James popped up behind you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
âHow scandalous, are you asking me out on a date?â
âYeah, why? You have a boyfriend or something?â James humoured you.
âOr something,â you joked. The innocent comment hit both you and James at the same time. A reminder that you two were in fact technically not really dating. You shook the thought away.
âIâll see you at 11 oâclock,â you replied.
James grinned, âIâll be there five minutes earlier.â
True to his words, he was waiting for you in the courtyard when you arrived on the dot. James offered you his arm and you linked yours through his.
âJames?â James hummed in reply. âDoes your offer about Spring Break still stand? I mean, I know itâs next week already, and itâs sort of short notice-â
James perked up. âYes!â he said, a little too quickly and enthusiastic. He cleared his throat and lowered his volume. âYes, you and Regulus can still come.â
You sighed and nodded in relief. âRight, because Reg and I have been talking and we might take you up on that offer.â
It was evening by the time you and James made your way back to Hogwarts. James had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you held his hand. James pressed a kiss to your temple every now and then. âWhat happened to the glass slippers?â He suddenly asked.
âThey broke.â
âThey broke?â
âYep.â
âBut didnât you enchant them?â
âI did, but I was so angry at you that I smashed them to pieces against the wall like over two months ago.â
âOh⌠But have you changed your mind since then?â James decided to finally ask you.
âAbout what?â.
âMe, and us.â
You looked at James and quietly admired him. James kept his eyes straight in front of him, too scared to look at you and see your reaction.
âWell, we are walking together, coming back from Hogsmeade. Thereâs not a student in sight and yet we are still holding hands,â You light-heartedly replied with a teasing smile. You squeezed his hand for good measure. It seemed enough to make James look at you.
âIâd say weâre pretty good friends-â
âIâm in love with you.â
You froze in your tracks and let go of Jamesâ hand. Well, that took you by surprise. Fancying someone and claiming to be in love with someone- not loving but being in love- that was a next level. You smiled amusedly, successfully hiding your insecurities. âJames, youâre not in love with me.â
James frowned at your response. Heâd accept your rejection, but not you doubting his feelings.
âYes, I am,â he stubbornly responded.
âNo, youâre not,â you retorted, equally stubborn.
âAm too.â
âYouâre not, James,â you exasperatedly said. âYouâre not in love, you just fancy me because youâre comfortable.â You shrugged awkwardly. "And you only feel comfortable with me because I know so much about you. Because you poured your heart out to a stranger, and it so happened to be me.â
James bit his cheek, considering your words. Then he grinned and nodded. Your heart dropped, but not as much as it could have, because you had already prepared yourself for this. The joy behind setting yourself up for disappointment by never letting yourself get your hopes up.
âYeah, Iâm really comfortable with you.â He agreed. âIsnât that great? Isnât that love too? Being comfortable to the point you donât feel the need to keep secrets anymore, where you feel the most accepted? The most at ease?â
You stared at James then cleared your throat. âSo, when did you start being all knowledgeable and romantic?â
James snorted. You were adorable when you were awkward. âIâm the most comfortable with you,â he earnestly confessed to you. He carefully, as if to not scare you away, put a step forward and reached for your hand. He squeezed it softly. I mean it.
James felt you pull your hand back and bit his lip, forcing it to curl up into an accepting smile. âRight,â he cleared his throat as he tried to form a reply. But you werenât done yet. You pulled back your hand and then threw both your arms around Jamesâ neck as your brought him in a tight hug. You dipped your head down into the crook of his neck.
âAnd Iâm the most vulnerable with you,â you mumbled against his skin. James sighed in relief, happiness, and love. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, as if to shield you in response.
You tilted your head sideways as you looked at James who was in front of you, down on one knee in your garden. James looked beautiful. His cheeks were slightly coloured from the cold and his hands held a small box with a ring.
âLove?â He asked, waving his hand in front of you, trying to get your attention. He didnât sound nervous at all, in fact, he felt the most relaxed heâd ever been. This was definitely the future heâd imagined when heâd watched you laugh with his dad while bringing in the groceries. âMy knee is getting numb from the cold, love. So, if you could just say yes or no,â he cheekily grinned.
You hummed in thought and then you replied, âWell, isnât marriage a little too soon?â Your grin widened and spread across your face. âI mean, youâve yet to officially ask me to be your real girlfriend.â
âWait what-â
The end :)
Taglist:
@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @shrekscrustybudassy @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sakuyoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @moonyunebi @caspianobsessed @kquil @moonys-luvr @mindflay3r @magpiesworld @my-beloved-fandoms @papichulo120627 @nokkoongie @sbrewer21 @helloitsmeeeeeee @clumsyassbitch @lovelyteenagebeard @joeytribbiani18 @littlemisslovestoread @princesskittycatofmeowland
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âomg youâre so creative. how do you get your ideasâ i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it
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James being a big bear of a boyfriend and always just like lifting u up so easily to hug and sit on his lap and even tho u hate when anyone else does it heâs so BEEFY that youâre fine with him doing it
Yessssss I'm not much of a physical touch person irl but James I would allow
poly!marauders x fem!reader ⥠847 words
Sirius is trying to follow Remusâ example and focus on the puzzle, but his eyes keep flitting up to you worriedly. Youâve monopolized the couch, laying flat with a hand cast over your eyes and your mouth pinched in obvious discomfort. Heâd tried rubbing your calf and Remus had offered you tea, but theyâd both given up when the attention only seemed to worsen your mood. Remus suggested they work on the puzzle while you rest (not Siriusâ favorite activity, but forced upon him because it keeps him quiet) and now theyâre both simply trying not incur your wrath.Â
âQuit looking at me,â you growl without opening your eyes.Â
In Siriusâ case, not doing a very good job.Â
âFine, sheesh,â he says, and you press your lips together like youâre restraining yourself from snapping at him.Â
You cringe when the door opens, every line of you pulling taut. James is all smiles as he tosses his gym bag to the floor with a heavy thump. âHello, my loves!â His voice is a decibel short of booming, but it softens when he sees you on the couch. âOh, sorry, is she napping?âÂ
Remus shakes his head, lips pursed as he watches your hand tighten over your eyes. âHeadache,â he explains quietly.Â
âOh, Iâm sorry lovie.â James reroutes from the kitchen, heading for you. Sirius tenses. âHow bad is it?âÂ
âProngs,â Sirius whispers urgently, âdonâtââ
But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isnât sure which of you heâs more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesnât come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it Jamesâ brawny shoulder instead.Â
âBad,â you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom youâd spat at Sirius a moment before.Â
James coos like heâs got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. âWhere does it hurt, darling?âÂ
âEverywhere.âÂ
âBy your eyes?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. Youâve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. âHave you been drinking water?âÂ
âItâs not that.â Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but itâs been markedly softened for James. âI had tons of water this morning.âÂ
âProbably a tension headache then, yeah?â He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels.Â
James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.
âThis is so unfair,â Sirius hisses to Remus.Â
âHe has a power,â Remus admits weakly, âwhich transcends understanding.âÂ
âDo you want some tea?â James murmurs to you after a while. Siriusâ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up.Â
You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.Â
âIâm getting the sense this isnât the first cup youâve been offered,â he says, looking immensely entertained.Â
You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. âYeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.âÂ
Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now.Â
âDonât be silly,â James chides lightly, âa warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?âÂ
âSure.â His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his heart turns to mush. âNo problem,â he says, softer now.Â
âAttagirl.â Jamesâ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. âDrink your tea and then weâll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.âÂ
âYou know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,â Sirius says, still slightly bitter, âand she told me very clearly to fuck off.âÂ
You donât sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. âSiri, when you carrying me doesnât involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then weâll talk.âÂ
Jamesâ laugh surprises both of you, and he apologizes hastily for jostling you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before resuming his ministrations. You donât seem all that upset about it.
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me, a writer, at 3am: WHAT? I CANT FIND THE SPECIFIC FANFIC THAT I MADE UP IN MY MIND WITH A WHOLE PLOT AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS??? WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE??? DO THEY EXPECT ME TO WRITE THE STORY I THOUGHT UP OF???
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âtime will tell.â
[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]
summary. âyou are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.â
pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)
word count. 9.5k.
tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf
note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one
HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort â or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all theyâve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.Â
At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry canât even count the amount of conspiracy theories heâs read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.Â
Even Hermioneâs shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort â of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harryâs already forgiven her. But thereâs a part of him that despises the way heâs never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.
. â
ËĚŁ- : ⧠: â â âš â â : ⧠: -ËĚŁâ
.
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables â to Harryâs surprise, you glare right back at her. Youâre awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss â Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears heâd like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remusâs eyes.
Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.Â
Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.Â
But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.Â
Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE â Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine â you are not amused.Â
You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when sheâs miffed with the twins. âYou are aware, right, that just by existing here youâve changed the future? Your future? And, thatâs not even the worst thing that could happen.âÂ
Harry sulks. âYes, mum.â He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.Â
âDonât call me that in public!â You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him â to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. âThe less people that know about this, the better. Itâs bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what youâre going to do?âÂ
âConsidering I was thrown here against my will, no.â Harry shrugs. âAnd to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.â
You reach over to smack his head, scowling.
âOw! That hurt!â Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. âThis is technically child abuse, did you know that?âÂ
You roll your eyes. âDo you at least have a plan to get home?âÂ
âOf course I do,â Harry retorts with a scoff, âHer name is Hermione Granger.âÂ
âHopeless.â You groan exasperatedly. âAbsolutely hopeless.âÂ
Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present â his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parentsâ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isnât the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy whoâs pestering his mother â even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)
âRight then,â You say after your tangent â which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. âIf Iâm going to help you get back homeââÂ
Harryâs heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didnât want to go home just yet â not to where people just took and took from him. Heâs exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. Itâs for the greater good, of course, because his existence â present or past â is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.Â
ââyou need to answer this one question for me.â Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.Â
Harry nods slowly. âAs long as itâs within reason, yeah.âÂ
You inhale sharply. âDo I outlive Dolores Umbridge?âÂ
The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.Â
Thatâs all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.
âThat slimy bitch!âÂ
Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.
. â
ËĚŁ- : ⧠: â â âš â â : ⧠: -ËĚŁâ
.
(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take â you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father wonât notice the way you shy from Fergusonâs touch. Youâre not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wifeâs passing â as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your fatherâs jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare â you do not need anyoneâs pity.Â
The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.Â
You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. Itâs not until youâre unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.Â
You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. Thereâs nothing you can do but cry.Â
Youâve used up all your smiles for tonight.Â
But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.Â
You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human youâve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt â period.Â
When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. Itâs not a familiar one to you, but thenâÂ
âThatâs Sirius.âÂ
You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.
Sirius Black.
âOh, none of that,â He tells you when you move to stand. Thereâs barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you canât figure out what heâs planning. What you donât expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.Â
âYouâll get creases,â You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched â but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. âYour mother will be cross with you.âÂ
Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. âWalburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.â
You gasp. âThatâs horrible!âÂ
Sirius gives you a look. âYou donât believe that.âÂ
You really donât, but you donât have the courage to admit it either.Â
After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, âSo who was that?â
âWho was who?â You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still canât wrap your head around how weird this is â sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your motherâs hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)Â
âBald guy, older than Merlin himself.â Sirius makes a face. âLooks like a troll. Smells like one, too.â
A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldnât be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right â Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. âMy betrothed.âÂ
Sirius nods in understanding. âMy mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.âÂ
You grimace. âWhich cousin?âÂ
He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, âBellatrix.â
This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. âO-Oh, thatâs golden.âÂ
âNo, itâs not,â says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. âItâs horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.â He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. âOi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.âÂ
âS-Sorry.â You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. âI just canât imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.â
âThatâs disgusting.â Sirius gags. âYouâre horrible, I hope you know that.âÂ
When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. âHereâs to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.âÂ
You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. âCheers, Black.âÂ
âWill you go to Hogwarts next year?â He asks you once heâs bitten off the tail of his mice.Â
You nod.Â
Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. âWeâll be friends when school starts?â
Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. âFriends.âÂ
The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.
You pretend that Allegra doesnât throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you donât notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.Â
You pretend that it doesnât hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.
They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; thereâs no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)Â
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(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
âSO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.âÂ
Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. âWhatâs the rush?â Itâs unfair, heâd only just met you, and now heâs losing time with you.Â
You sigh. âHarry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. Itâs not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.âÂ
When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. âHarry? Whatâs wrong?âÂ
Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. âWhat do you know about the Mirror of Erised?âÂ
Your head tilts in confusion. âThat it shows our heartâs deepest desire.âÂ
âYeah,â says Harry, nodding. âI was eleven when I found it.âÂ
âOh, Harry. . .âÂ
Itâs almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. âDid you know, before today, I hadnât known at all what your voice sounded like?âÂ
You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.Â
âWhen I looked into the mirror, I saw my parentsâall of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind meâhappy.â Harry swipes a tear from his eye. âI wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.â
âItâsââ
âDangerous, I know.â He laughs bitterly. âJust like finally being able to meet you all here.â
âHarry, you arenât supposed to be here in the first place,â You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.Â
âI know that!â He exclaims desperately. âBut is it so selfish to just want some time? I donât want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why canât I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?âÂ
âYour friends,â You tell him firmly. âYour friends who must be worried sick that youâre gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.âÂ
âI know.â Harry wilts. Heâs got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Siriusâs death. âI know. But canât I just have this one thing?âÂ
You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: âDo you want to hear a story?â
âWhat?â Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.Â
Shrugging, you say, âStories to remember us by. Iâve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know itâs not much, and you��ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but itâs better than nothing, right?â You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. âWeâve got time to spare, anyway.âÂ
Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when youâre the gentlest creature heâs ever known â just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.Â
âWhat do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.â Â
Harry snickers. âNot a chance, mum.âÂ
âWorth a try.â And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.Â
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(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
YOU DONâT UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading othersâ personal space.Â
A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat â but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses heâs ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away â sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.Â
Before them, you hadnât really known the different ways to love and be loved.Â
Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into Jamesâs requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much â one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didnât even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.Â
(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at Jamesâs flexed muscles, mouth wide open.Â
âAs I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!â
âSure, dove, whatever you say.â)
But now, you really arenât so sure of your decision.Â
âOh, sheâs beautiful, Jamie!â Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. Youâre engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would â and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what youâve been missing all along â the thought stabs you right in the heart. âPlease excuse the mess, dear, we havenât had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.âÂ
âI-Itâs okay,â You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.Â
âOh, what a darling you are!â Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. âCome, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart â James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Donât think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didnât owl me letters for two months straight!âÂ
James whines as he hides behind you. âMum, Iâm seventeen, stop embarrassing me.âÂ
Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. âYouâre going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.âÂ
With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother â you donât understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum whoâd welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece sheâs created on a grumbling James, whoâs rubbing his skin to erase his motherâs affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after youâve unpacked.Â
Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and Jamesâs neck. âWelcome home, Jamie!â She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, âSo happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?âÂ
You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godricâs Hollow â it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (theyâre not the only ones spoiled; they couldnât refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Siriusâs motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.Â
âIt was fine,â You say in a daze.
Lily sees right through you â and frowns sadly. âYou alright?âÂ
Were you?Â
You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. Thereâs a swell in your throat that you canât seem to push down. Thereâs a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!Â
There are hints of life all around the manor. Remusâs textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lilyâs O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledoreâs letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagallâs previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. Thereâs a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. Itâs a wall dedicated to them, you realize.Â
Then, you find it.Â
Right there, up above Jamesâs spot, and beside Siriusâs display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.Â
Itâs a space on that wall just for you.Â
James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. âMum left a space when I first told her about you. I-Itâs yours, you can put anything you want there.âÂ
âI canât,â You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. Itâs too much.Â
James blinks. âCanât? Itâs yours, I promise. Mum wonât mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I wonât tear it down â Maraudersâ honor. I can help you if you want. I-Iâm not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade ofââ
âJames, I canât do this.âÂ
Thatâs all you say before you run out of the door.Â
(And youâre absolutely delusional if you think James wonât follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)Â
You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots â designer couldnât help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.Â
James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. âCome on, dove, itâs not safe out here. Letâs go back home, yeah? Iâm sorry for upsetting you. Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry â Iâm so sorry, dove, please donât cry, itâs killing me to sâsee you like this.â Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you canât go back to the manor. âWhat did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love youâIâm sorry.â
You bat his chest. âGâGo home, Jamie. Iâll just take the train back to the castle.âÂ
âWhat?â He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. âYâYou canât. Not in this weather. Youâll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.âÂ
You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.Â
James rises in an instant, reaching for you. âNo, no, no, no, no. You donât get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-Iâll fix it.âÂ
âGoodbye, James,â You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.Â
He grimaces. âThat wonât work on me, princess, and you know it. Donât push me awayâplease.âÂ
âGo home, James!â You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lilyâs voice grow louder in the distance. âJust go!â
He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. âYouâre a coward if you walk away from hereâfrom usâright now!â James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. âAnd I hate cowards more than anything!âÂ
You donât look back.Â
(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. Heâs all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.Â
âDonât want one,â He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remusâs gift. âJust want her.âÂ
Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling Jamesâs head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to Jamesâs hair.Â
âI said I hated her,â James says weakly. âI donâtâI never will. I just hate that sheâs out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be hereâwith us. I hate not knowing that sheâs safe, or that she thinks I donât love her anymoreâthatâs a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I donât deserve her.âÂ
James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. âI miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.â
âYouâll cry yourself sick, love.â Remus wipes each tear away. âLetâs go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.â Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moonâs command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are â smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus canât fault you for running away.
Youâd kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.Â
Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)
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(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)
âAND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.â Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. âIf he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my nameâoh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes Iâm haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?âÂ
Harry nods excitedly. âDefinitely.â
âGot anymore stories?â He asks.Â
You cackle menacingly. âBoy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifootâs!âÂ
Harry grimaces. âDo I even want to hear about this?âÂ
âOh, pish-posh.â You dismiss him with a wave. âYou do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the dayâhow strange. I wonder why.âÂ
Harry stares at you in disbelief. âYouâre joking.âÂ
âI most certainly am not, Harry Potter.âÂ
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(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear â last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girlsâ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.Â
Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic â then the girl screams again, and you realize itâs Allegra.Â
You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, âI-Itâs alright. Iâll handle it.âÂ
âAre you sure?â Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.Â
âCertain,â You respond, yawning.Â
As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegraâs side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty â silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.Â
âI donât want to marry himâI canât! Heâs old enough to be my father!â Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. âThey said theyâd wait until I graduatedâthey promised! Iâm supposed to marry him this summer!âÂ
Your heart breaks for your friend â thereâs nothing you can do but hold her until sheâs cried every bit of her soul out.Â
âI hate them,â Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.Â
âI know,â You say defeatedly.Â
âI wish I was dead,â She replies lifelessly. âHe canât marry a dead bride.âÂ
âDonât say that,â You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. âPlease.âÂ
Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. âThe world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And itâll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?âÂ
âI donât know,â You say honestly.Â
Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. âPansy,â She mumbles.
âWhat?â
âIf we lived in a better world and I married for love, Iâd want to name my daughter Pansy â like the flower.â
(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap â you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good â more than good, it was liberating. Itâs like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face â because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girlsâ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank â and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.Â
You get what you want, naturally â as princesses do. You decide then that youâre going to create a world where girls like Allegra donât cry anymore.)
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(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)Â
HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon â no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. âI-Iâm sorryââÂ
âYesterday was hardly your fault,â You interrupt him. âThereâs no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didnât know, but now you know. I donât hold it against them â anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least theyâve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother â erm, Lily â she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.â
Oh, Harry knows.
And Hermione knows it all too well.Â
âOthers call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,â You tell him grimly, âBut I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.â
At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.Â
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(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)Â
âLOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.âÂ
You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. âI donât drool, idiot.âÂ
Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. âOf course you donât, princess.â
Currently, youâre lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; itâs the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby â the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; youâre good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and thereâs no other place youâd rather call home.Â
Youâre in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. Itâs the most beautiful set of jewelry youâve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lilyâs hand rests under your jumper, Siriusâs thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.Â
âYou need a haircut, my love,â You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets â itâs gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.Â
Lily buries her nose in your hair. âSheâs right, Siri.âÂ
âIâm always right.â You pout.Â
Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. âCourse you are â our girlâs bloody brilliant, isnât she, Lily-pad?â
âWithout a doubt.â
You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Siriusâs chest â theyâre not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.
âI love you,â says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. âI donât know who told you that you donât deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you donât even know how much. This right here is real â and nothing could ever change that.âÂ
As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give â only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your motherâs friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lilyâs, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didnât mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.Â
How lucky you are.Â
âLetâs get married,â You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Siriusâs hand on your waist stiffen.Â
âWhat?â Lily gasps breathlessly.Â
You smile up at Lily. âLetâs get married. All of us. I donât care where, oâor about the rings, letâs just get married. With the war going on, we deserve sâsomething good.âÂ
Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. âYes. Oh my Godsâweâre getting married!âÂ
Sirius stares at you in wonder. âBloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?â
You grin. âIs that a yes?âÂ
âItâs a yes â forever.â Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. âCouldnât get rid of us now even if you tried.âÂ
âI donât think Iâd want to, anyway.âÂ
Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor
âWeâre home!â James announces in the entryway.Â
Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:
âWeâre all getting married!âÂ
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.
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)Â
âThat ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,â You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. âItâs meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.â You chuckle at Harryâs perturbed grimace. âNo, I didnât marry him â thankfully. After Allegra. . . IâI. . . I couldnât bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, Iâd give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, Iâd resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone elseâs hand.âÂ
You shake your head. âI want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.âÂ
Harry wonât let that happen, he wonât ever let your name be forgotten. Heâll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lilyâs defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. Heâll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.Â
âWhat do the words mean?â He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.
You smile. âTime, devourer of all things.â
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.
(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
âREMUSâTHE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!âÂ
Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows â still too small to carry three people but hasnât given out yet, anyway. He takes Lilyâs legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. âItâs a film, dove, theyâre acting.âÂ
You purse your lips. âTheyâre trapped inside, then?âÂ
Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. âNot quite, princess, itâs recorded. Movies are like moving photographs â but theyâre an hour long with sounds.âÂ
âOh.â You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit â the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. âLily-pad, sheâs singing â again.âÂ
Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. âSheâs supposed to sing, dove, itâs a musical.âÂ
âWell, yes,â You begin, and James groans into Siriusâs chest, âBut they should just talk instead of singing all the time â Sandyâs got a lovely voice, though. I just donât understand why Dannyâs treating her like that! Truthfully, I donât like any of Sandyâs new friends, other than Frenchy â sheâs harmless. If I was Sandy Iâd move on from Danny â but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I canât blame her.âÂ
Sirius glowers at you. âYou like his leather jacket?âÂ
âHis hair?â James exclaims in horror.Â
Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. âIf I were you, dove, Iâd be quiet and just watch the film.â
âOh, no, no.â Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. âSince when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Letâs unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?âÂ
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. âPlay the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.âÂ
âIâm telling Euphemia on you!âÂ
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.
(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)Â
ââand then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.â Harryâs arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you â it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.Â
Your eyes grow wide. âA troll? In Hogwarts? They canât have, not unlessââ
âSomeone let it inâI know!â Harry grins. âYouâre not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.âÂ
You snap your fingers, âMalfoy, the older one. I know that lumpâs got something to do with this. Canât have been Snape or Quirrell.â
âJust you wait.â Harryâs eyes twinkle with mischief. ââand so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .âÂ
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.
(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)
IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces â was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and youâre fairly certain that youâre a better fighter and survivalist than him â not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harmâs way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.Â
(âItâs not some game out there!â Remus runs through his hair in frustration â he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. âEvery time you step into a raid, thereâs a possibility of you dying, donât you understand that? And even if you survive â youâll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.âÂ
âSo what?â You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. âI just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?âÂ
âYes!â Lily angrily replies. âThat is the whole point of us joining the Order â so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!â
You grind down on your jaw. âYou have got another thing coming, if you think Iâm not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.âÂ
James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. âThere are horrors out there you canât even imagine. I-Itâs worse than we thought. Itâs our every nightmare come to life.âÂ
You raise your chin defiantly. âThen we face it together.â)
Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home â scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.Â
Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago youâd never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.Â
The alley was quiet â too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.Â
Peter shivers and you glance at him â heâs become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you canât quite make out. Itâs different from all the other times youâve been asked to search and rescue.Â
âDonât you feel like thereâs something wrong?â You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.Â
âDunno, kid,â Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. âEverything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.âÂ
âI get what you mean,â You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. âIâll scout ahead, who knows whatâs been here before us. I donât want to risk any of our lives, so letâs be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?âÂ
When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.Â
âAvada Kedavra!âÂ
You scream as Gideonâs deathly pale body falls to the floor.Â
âNo!âÂ
You arenât given a moment to rush to his side â someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. Itâs not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.Â
âRosier.â You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.Â
âStupid witch,â He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. âWhere are your lovers now?âÂ
âJealous?â You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. âWe donât have room for one more, sorry.â
âShut up!â He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and thatâs all the opening you need.Â
âExpulso!âÂ
Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. Youâre winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.Â
âAccio wand!âÂ
The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out whoâs stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater â except itâs Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows â it doesnât make sense.Â
âPeter?â You call out.Â
âCrucio!âÂ
The curse finds its home in your body â and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon â hand desperately reaching for his shirt.Â
âCrucio!â Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. âScream for me againâCrucio!âÂ
Itâs as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.
âYouâfuckingâtraitor,â You gurgle, throat welling up with blood thatâs risen from your stomach. âTheyâllâneverâforgive youânever.âÂ
âCrucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch â SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.âÂ
You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideonâs hand. Iâm sorry, you want to tell him. Iâll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you â one you know you wonât survive â you snatch the wand from Gideonâs hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.Â
âDefodio!âÂ
You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwickâs quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.Â
That just leaves one more problem.Â
Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. âI-Iâm sorryâIâm sorry. I had to. . . TâThey killed my mum, they killed MâMary, and tâthey said I would die too if I dâdidnât do this. Iâm sorry. YâYour father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you lâlive if you joined us. WâWe can live, tâthereâs still a chance for us to survive.âÂ
Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening â you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.
âIâd ratherâdie.â You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. âYouâll die tooâyouâll feel my blood on your skinâeverywhere you go, Peter.âÂ
Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. âYâYou were the only oâone who dâdidnât laugh at me. NâNot like the others.âÂ
âWhen they find outâyouâre dead, Pettigrew.â You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. âThereâs nowhere you can hideâyouâre a dead man.âÂ
âP-Please die,â Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. âPlease die, sâso I can live. I câcanât fight anymore, Iâm tired.âÂ
Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peterâs silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godricâs Hollow.Â
Oh.
Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. Itâs like coming home after a dayâs work.Â
You just wanted to rest now.Â
The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peterâs next words.Â
âAvada Kedavra.âÂ
(Itâs past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where itâs been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.Â
Youâll feel my blood on your skin.
Youâre a dead man.Â
Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.Â
âOh, Iâm so glad youâre home safe â welcome home â thank the Gods youâre alive,â Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. âMerlin, what happened? Thereâs too much blood on you. Itâs on your shirt and your face.âÂ
âItâs not mine,â says Peter hoarsely.Â
Siriusâs gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. âWhere is she?âÂ
Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. âPeter? IâIs she alright? Has something happened to her?âÂ
Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peterâs soiled shirt. âWhere the fuck is she, Pettigrew?âÂ
Peter begins to weep. âIâIt was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon râran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and IâI was too far away.âÂ
Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.
Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peterâs face. âWhere is her body?âÂ
âIt was a disintegration spell.â With Severus Snape â brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.Â
James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. âIt should have been youââ James snaps at Peter. âIf it came down to you or herâyou should have saved her!âÂ
âW-What?â Peter stammers, eyes wide. âShe chose to save mâme.âÂ
James sneers at him. âYou should have just died.â)
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.
(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)Â
ST. JEROMEâS GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lilyâs graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand â four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. Thereâs no funeral for Sirius as thereâs no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing â there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail wonât come out of whatever hole heâs crawled into. Either him, or Severus.Â
He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.Â
You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemiaâs in her tombstone, and Remus figures itâs the fitting place to leave you be â with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes youâre at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)Â
Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at Jamesâs headstone and raises his bottle to him. âNot even in death, huh?â
He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James â Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; itâs a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks itâs a wonderful memory to remember them by.Â
âTake care of them for me, Jamie.â
And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.Â
end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!
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le coup de foudre.
pairing: regulus black x reader.
song inspiration: my love mine all mine by mitski.
author's note: this was a result of me binging dune and call me by your name. whoever fancasted timothee chalamet as regulus deserves a forehead kith cause look at him. he's so boyfriend coded it makes me sick.
Regulus Black did not believe in love at first sight.Â
It was a foolish notion. One that contradicted his pragmatic beliefs. At his core, Regulus was a realist. In his world, love was not a luxury one could afford. Regulus was raised with the expectation to marry according to class, wealth, and most importantly, blood status. The noble and most ancient house of Black only took the purest of the pure.Â
After all, toujours pur, always pure, has been his familyâs motto for centuries. There has never been any doubt in his mind that heâd marry another member of the sacred twenty eight. It wasnât a matter of if, only a question of when.Â
During his sixth year, his mother made her intentions very clear. Walburga Black was adamant that he begin his search for a suitable bride. Leave it to his mother to compose a list of ladies she deemed suitable to become the future Mrs. Black. Regulus was to adhere to the carefully curated roster. They were names that heâd seen a million times before. Greengrass, Prewett, Rosier. Girls heâd grown up with and inadvertently had absolutely no interest in.Â
Still, his mother was insistent so Regulus complied. He took the girls out on dates. The formula was rather simple: dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town followed by a walk around the city square in which he offered to buy his date a dessert like the proper gentleman his mother raised him to be. Despite the fact that Regulus had the entire process down to a science, the dates were always unsatisfactory.Â
He was polite, of course. Opened the door, pulled out their chair, asked the appropriate level of questions to get to know his counterpart, but by the time the appetizers arrived, Regulus was on the verge of stabbing himself with the butter knife just to rouse himself from boredom.Â
Regulus placed no blame on the girls. They were only doing what their families had raised them to do. Sit pretty, chew gracefully, agree with his opinions. All while wearing breakneck heels and a smile to boot. It was all terribly fucked up, but this was the world they lived in.Â
The more he went on these dates, the more he realized that he didnât want some pretty, docile wife. What he truly needed was someone who was willing to challenge him, to call him out on his bullshit, to argue with him when his own stubbornness prevented him from seeing reason. Regulus came to the horrible, earth-shattering realization that he probably wouldnât find a woman like that on his motherâs list.Â
As he walked back from another mind numbing date, Regulus grappled with this newfound dilemma. He didnât want to endure another one of these disastrous dates. He didnât want to sit through an entire meal making small talk. He definitely didnât want to disappoint another girl by not kissing them at the end of the night.Â
It wasnât like any of them liked him anyways. Though they loved the idea of Regulus Black, he was quite certain that they wouldnât afford the same affections to Reggieâthe real and true version of himself. The one that Sirius often said Regulus kept in a neatly locked cage.
He wished he could be more like his brother. Sirius had always been the brave one. It was that infamous Gryffindor boldness that prompted his older brother to rebel against his familyâs expectations. Instead of heeding to their motherâs ridiculous list, Sirius chose to date Remus in open defiance to Walburgaâs orders. It resulted in him getting kicked out of 12 Grimmauld Place and burned off the family portrait, but Sirius didnât seem to mind one bit. Â
In a lot of ways, Regulus envied his brother. Sirius had the guts to stand up for himself. He wasnât burdened by the crippling pressure of pleasing their mother. In all honesty, Reggie wondered if such a thing was even achievable. As he brooded, Regulus found himself on the shores of the Black Lake. His body had taken him here on autopilot. It was his only place of refuge in the castle.Â
Regulus paced the rickety wooden dock. His mind was working so fast, so many thoughts spinning in his head, that it felt like he might work himself up to a fit. This has always been his problem. Sirius often said that he lived in his head too much. He frowned, trying and failing to get ahold of himself. For once, he wished he could just shut his brain off entirely.
Just then, Regulus felt a drop of water hit his head. He looked up and found dark, gray clouds hovering over the horizon. The stormcloud broke open and unleashed torrential rain all around him. Fucking fantastic. The world truly couldnât give him a bloody break, could it?Â
With a sigh, Regulus began making his way back. The ground was sodden underneath his feet, his boots sinking into the sand and dragging behind his black coat. The waves lapped violently across the shore as the wind lashed against the murky waters. Regulus was almost at the edge of the beach when he spotted you.Â
A flash of movement from the corner of his eye. Regulus stopped dead in his tracks. There, at the mouth of the Black Lake, in the middle of the pouring rain, stood a girl with the most breathtaking smile he had ever seen.Â
Regulus was fairly certain that you had History of Magic together. He sat behind you in class, passed by you in the halls, even reached for the same book in the forbidden section of the library once, but Reggie had never once seen that smile. The gravity of it threatened to knock the very breath from his lungs.Â
There was something carefree about you. The way you spread your arms, tilted your head back, and laughed in the midst of the rain and thunder. Almost like you were welcoming the storm.Â
It was only when your eyes locked that Regulus realized he was staring. You cocked your head at him, trailing your gaze from the curls plastered against his cheek to the nice button down and freshly pressed trousers that were now soaked from the rain, down to the shiny leather boots that were now digging into the sand. You seemed amused at the sight of him.
Ever the perfect gentleman, Regulus snapped out of his daze and jogged over to you. Without hesitation, he raised his coat over your head to shield you from the rain even though you were already both drenched.Â
âWhat are you doing out in the rain?â Regulus asked, his voice full of genuine concern. âYouâll catch a cold.âÂ
You stepped out of the refuge of his expensive looking coat and held your hand out, catching droplets in your palm. âI donât mind. I justâŚI just needed to feel the rain on my skin, thatâs all.â
You supposed it mustâve seemed strange to him, but the rain always made you feel better. Lately, life had been just a little too overwhelming. There was so much pressure to do well in classes, to hang out with friends while balancing your clubs and sports, as well as making time to write back to your parents. When it all became a bit too much, you tended to come to the Black Lake for some sort of refuge. The rain was just an added bonus.Â
If Regulus found your behavior bizarre, he didnât say. Instead, he just smiled softly. âWell, you got your wish. Itâs soaked out here.âÂ
âI know,â you responded with an enthusiastic nod. âItâs nice, isnât it?âÂ
âStanding out in the pouring rain? On a beach where lightning can strike me down at any second? Yes, itâs absolutely splendid.â
Your mouth quirked in amusement. âNo oneâs telling you to stay out here.â You nodded towards the castle. âYouâre more than welcome to take your brooding inside where itâs warm and dry. Not to mention, free of the dangers of lightning strikes, which are extremely rare by the way.âÂ
âWith my luck, I might be the poor one in a million git who gets torched while getting insulted by a pretty girl.âÂ
âDid I insult you?â you quipped back. âI hadnât noticed.â
âYou accused me of brooding.âÂ
âI didnât accuse, I stated. Even the Wizengamot would have to rule that you were, in fact, brooding.âÂ
Regulus raised a brow. âWhat happened to innocent before proven guilty?âÂ
âUnfortunately, the evidence is overwhelming and the verdict is set. You, Regulus Black, have been sentenced for glaring at the Black Lake so menacingly that even the giant squid refuses to come to shore. Off to Azkaban you go.âÂ
âDo you promise to write me letters? Update me of how the worldâs progressed without my dazzling presence?âÂ
âIt would be my genuine pleasure.âÂ
Regulus chuckled at your dry humor. He couldnât remember the last time heâd bantered like this with anyone, much less with a strange not-so-stranger. You sat down on the wet sand and patted the spot beside you with a grin.
âWhy donât you take a seat and tell me all about your troubles.âÂ
Beyond the bleak horizon, the spires of the castle peeked through the gray clouds. Regulus thought of the common room where his housemates would no doubt be gathered around the ornate fireplace for warmth. Knowing his friends, theyâd probably be indulging in spiked hot chocolate and playing some childish drinking game. A few minutes ago, nothing appealed to him more, but now Regulus found himself choosing the violent rain and soggy sand. All because of you, his mystery girl.
You leaned back on your elbows and cocked your head at him. âWhat ails you, Mr. Black?âÂ
âThat depends. How much do you bill per hour?âÂ
âFortunately for you, Iâm in a generous mood so Iâll throw in a free session. Consider it my pro-bono work.âÂ
âHow kind of you,â Regulus said with a serious expression. âMy brotherâs been nagging me to see a mind healer for years. All that childhood trauma, you know.âÂ
A small smile tugged at your lips, revealing a set of dimples that he found rather charming. âI canât tell if youâre being serious or not.âÂ
âMy brother is Sirius. Iâm Regulus, remember?âÂ
You snorted in a very unladylike manner, which only made Regulus grin. There was something so unapologetically you in your laugh that was absolutely endearing to him. Regulus smiled and knocked his shoulder against yours.Â
You mimicked the action and smiled back at him. âAll sarcasm aside, I was being genuine. If you want to talk about it, Iâm here to listen.âÂ
"Do you often offer therapy sessions to complete strangers?"
"Only to surly Slytherins with sad eyes and pretty curls," you quipped back. "And we're not strangers. I sit behind you in potions. We're practically best mates."
"You think my curls are pretty?"
"Like a little cherub's. Are you quite sure you haven't escaped from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? You look like one of Michelangelo's angels. Except with way more scowling." Regulus grinned. He got the feeling that you always said whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. It was refreshing. "There's a smile. See? Our session is already progressing."
"I think you might get more than you bargained for with me, I'm afraid."
You met the challenge in his words head on. "Try me."
âYou were right. Iâm definitely guilty of brooding.âÂ
âWhat happened?âÂ
Regulus hesitated for a moment. He had never been the type of person to be candid with his feelings, especially not with someone he barely knew. Usually, he just kept his thoughts to himself and ruminated on them in the privacy of his dorm until he drove himself mad by overthinking, but your presence brought him an unexplainable ease. For once in his life, Regulus chose not to question it.Â
âIâve had a long night,â he said, tucking his knees up to his chest. âI just got back from a date.âÂ
âIt didnât go well?âÂ
âIt wasâŚfine. Itâs always fine. But itâs the same thing over and over again, just with a different girl.âÂ
âI wouldnât have taken you for a playboy, Regulus Black.â
Regulus chuckled. âIâm not some unscrupulous rake, I assure you.âÂ
âYes, that much is obvious from your use of the word unscrupulous.â You tucked your legs underneath you. âSo why go on all of these dates if you find them so tedious?âÂ
âItâs my mother,â Regulus explained. âShe has this list.âÂ
âA list?âÂ
âYes, a list of girls that Iâm to court. Noble, pureblooded, proper ladies of society that my mother has deemed worthy of marriage.âÂ
âYouâre seventeen years old. Shouldnât you be worrying about quidditch games and potions exams?âÂ
Regulus nodded. âYes, one would think. But my family has always been different. Since my brother left, my parents have been obsessed with grooming me into becoming the perfect heir.âÂ
âHow do you feel about that?âÂ
He sighed. âStifled. Exhausted. Smothered. I can feel the weight of their expectations weighing me down every second of every day.âÂ
âIâm sorry, Regulus. Thatâs a terrible burden to carry.âÂ
Regulus shrugged. âOthers have it worse.âÂ
âIt doesnât mean that your problem is any less heavy.âÂ
To Regulus, the acknowledgement felt oddly validating. Even though you knew nothing of his circumstance, there was wisdom in your words and you delivered it delicately, like you actually cared to hear his troubles. You were devoid of the judgment he'd grown accustomed to and he found that rather freeing.
âItâs justâŚsometimes I think that Iâll never be the perfect son. My brother, heâs always been the brave one. Classic Gryffindor,â he said with an eye roll. You chuckled, but stayed silent. It was obvious that Regulus had a myriad of thoughts to unpack tonight and you were more than happy to just listen. âSirius has never cared what anyone thought about him, least of all our parents. I admire that about him, but I just donât think Iâm wired that way. I care too much.âÂ
âThatâs not necessarily a bad thing,â you said softly. âApathy is so common nowadays, finding someone who can admit that they care is refreshing. Though, I think itâs not without limits. You canât please everyone. No matter what you do, someone is going to have something to complain about. You might as well be yourself.âÂ
âThatâs exactly the problem,â Regulus pondered. âAll of these girls on my mother's list, I think they like the idea of Regulus Black, but heâs an illusion. It isnât the real me.âÂ
âThen who is the real you?âÂ
âI donât know,â he said honestly. âIâm just Reggie. I like playing quidditch and reading depressing literature and memorizing obscure history facts. I hate messy rooms and orange juice and anything that crawls.â Â
You smiled. âAnd what kind of girl does Reggie like?âÂ
âSomeone witty. Someone funny. Someone whoâll argue with me. Someone who doesnât just nod and agree with everything I say."
"So what you're saying is that you don't want a nice girl?"
Regulus shook his head. "No, I think I need someone who challenges me. Who sees me for who I am rather than what I represent. Donât get me wrong, Iâm sure the girls on my motherâs list are lovely, but I donât think theyâd actually like me if they knew who I really am.âÂ
âI donât know, Reggie seems like a great guy. That Regulus bloke, on the other handâŚâ you scrunched your nose in disapproval.Â
âHey!â Regulus chided, âIâm pouring my heart out to you. That took a lot of courage, you know.âÂ
âYouâre very brave, Reggie,â you said with a grin. âBut you know what would be even braver?âÂ
Regulus squinted in the rain as you stood to your feet. Lightning crackled over the horizon, illuminating you with an ethereal silver glow. You held out your hand to him. âCome dance with me.âÂ
âDeathly afraid of being struck by lightning, remember?âÂ
âSorry, what?â You asked as you shimmied around him. It wasnât graceful by any means. It was the goofiest thing heâd ever seen and yet heâd never been so enthralled. You danced without a care in the world and it made him genuinely laugh. âI canât hear you over all the fun Iâm having.âÂ
"This is ridiculous," he said over the roaring thunder.
You shrugged. "Perhaps. But everyone's allowed to be a little ridiculous sometimes. Besides, I was asking Reggie not Regulus."
âAre you really trying to peer pressure me into dancing with you?âÂ
âThat depends,â you replied with a cheeky smile. âIs it working?âÂ
Regulus conceded with a sigh and leapt to his feet. The youngest Black brother bowed like a proper gentleman. âMay I have this dance, my lady?"
âYou may, good sir.âÂ
You grinned up at him as he took you by the waist and waltzed with you across the sand. Surprisingly, Regulus let you take the lead. He chuckled when you stepped on his toes and laughed even harder when you tried to twirl him. Towering a good foot over you, Regulus had to fully crouch for the maneuver to work.Â
Finally, you gave up the formality and just spun around in dizzying circles. There was absolutely no rhyme or rhythm to it. Just two idiots dancing in the rain with the biggest smiles on their faces.Â
Your coordination, or lack thereof, caused you to almost faceplant into the sand. Regulus yelped as you took him down with you. By the time you recovered from the laughing fit, the two of you were red-faced, out of breath, and laying side by side along the shore. He turned over to you and brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.Â
âThat was the most fun Iâve had in years.âÂ
��See? Thereâs more to life than just being moody and melancholic.âÂ
âSo this mystery girl of mine keeps reminding me,â Regulus said with a smile. âYou never told me your name, by the way.âÂ
âWow, you donât even know my name? Iâm offended, Reggie. Weâve only been in classes together since fifth year.âÂ
âIâweâve never been introducedââÂ
You broke out into a smile and giggled. You thought it was cute that Reggie was so easily flustered. âIâm just kidding, Reggie.âÂ
He sighed in relief as you stuck out your hand. âY/N. My name is Y/N.âÂ
Regulus slipped his hand into yours. He cocked his head, studying your eyes and your smile and those cute little dimples.Â
Y/N. The last name on his motherâs list. The one he saved for last because he didnât know who she was.Â
The French had a sayingâle coup de foudre. The infamous phrase translated to a bolt of lightning or love at first sight. Regulus had long dismissed it as flowery prose, but thanks to his mystery girl, he started to think that maybe the Parisians were onto something because meeting you tonight felt preordained. A date with fate. Like a bolt of lightning streaking through his dark, endless skies.
âItâs nice to meet you, Y/N.âÂ
You grinned. âItâs nice to meet you, Reggie.âÂ
Regulus smiled and laced your fingers together. He was frozen, it was raining, and he was fairly certain that you were both probably going to catch a cold, but he didnât care. In that moment, as he stared up at the sky, blinking back the rain, and intertwining his fingers with yours, Regulus had never felt more content.Â
So no, Regulus did not believe in love at first sight, but love at second, third, and even fourth glance? He smiled a little as he gazed back at you, letting his gaze linger as he drank in that infectious laugh and sunny grin.Â
You made him think that maybe, just maybe, a girl like you could convert a skeptic like him into a devout believer.
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Hi! Iâm back đŹ. Iâm still extremely new to requesting so feel no pressure to write this soon. I was thinking of quiet!reader, who gets nervous when she is around Regulus and instantly starts saying the most out of pocket things and being chatty to fill in the silence. Regulus finds this amusing and usually keeps a serious, quiet demeanor to hear the weird things that come out of her mouth. đ
looolllll the second I got this request it made me think of that Philomena Cunk meme on TikTok where people were like 'me whenever the conversation lulls' - so I had to borrow that quote!!! (let me know if you find it). Thanks so much for requesting babes - hope you love it đŤś
Regulus Black x quiet!fem reader (who can't shut up around him)
The world was out to get you, that much you were certain of. You were certain of this fact because this was the third time this week that your table in the library had somehow attracted the elusive Regulus Arcturus Black.Â
Usually, this would not be an issue. In fact, one could argue this was a rather nonissue, seeing as you were sort of embarrassingly completely infatuated with the aggravatingly quiet boy in your year.
However, it appeared that the company of one Regulus Arcturus Black short-circuited some fundamental part of your brain which caused you to blurt out the most asinine comments known to all of wizardingkind â neigh â humankind. The universe has never seen the likes of such horrible conversation.Â
It went a little like this:Â
Earlier in the week you had set up your arithmancy homework out in front of you at your favourite table in the library. It was your favourite table because it had a window view, but that window view was the least distracting window view in the whole library. It also was the perfect distance to a fireplace, meaning you could manage to stay warm in the stone castle during the cold Scottish winters.Â
Unfortunately, it seemed, the table didnât give you a good vantage point to alert you when one Regulus Arcturus Black made an appearance.
âMind if I sit here?â A quiet voice startled you out of your calculations, causing you to overturn a pot of ink in front of you.
âFucking Merlin and Morgana! I- oh, erm, uh, no I uhm, fuck.â You sputtered as you split your attention between the boy standing across from you and the pool of ink quickly making its way towards your skirt.Â
With a non-descript flick of Regulusâ wand, the mess was gone â though the damage to your parchment was unsalvageable.
âOh, uhm, thanks. Sorry I â erm, have a seat. Although, you might not be safe!â You tried to joke but your voice came out disturbingly high, and the (failed) âjokeâ made you flush hot with shame.
âIâm usually way cooler than this.â You tried to argue, before you realized that someone way cooler definitely wouldnât have just said that.
Regulus was either unbothered by your horrifying actions or chose to ignore them. He opened his textbooks and began taking notes like you werenât even there, while you sat in the most awkward and uncomfortable silence of your entire life.
It wasnât long before you decided you couldnât take it anymore, standing abruptly â so abruptly, in fact, that you had to quickly save another pot of ink from spilling â and began hastily gathering your things. Regulus did look up at this, and his eyes on you seemed to cause another malfunction to your central nervous system.
âWell, I must be off. I have other homework to dump ink on.â You said, except you didnât deliver the sentence as a joke and it sounded all too believable â paired with your actions today, and you were certain he believed thatâs exactly what you were off to do.
âToodaloo.â You called and ran from the library.
Toodaloo!?!?! Are you fucking serious!?!! TOODALOO. Oh gods.
You didnât dare return to the library the following day.
The day after that, though? It was fair game.
You were once again sitting at your favourite table and had ensured you placed a sticking charm on the bottom of your ink pots to avoid any more unfortunate accidents, when the clearing of a throat interrupted your studies.
âMind if I sit here?â Regulus asked quietly, motioning to the seat across from you.
Heâs kidding, right? After what happened two days ago, he canât possibly want to sit with you?
Nonsense, perhaps this is just his favourite table in the library too.
You were determined this time not to make a fool of yourself.
âHave you finished the rune translations for Professor Babbling, yet?â Regulus asked.
No, the world was definitely out to get you.
âI, erm, Iâve started it. I believe it references the magic practiced by the Egyptians during the Predynastic period. Quite interesting stuff, Ancient Egypt. Did you know that Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do in your life was die?âÂ
You were talking a mile a minute. You knew this to be true due to the fact that your tongue was actually tripping over your words, but while your brain was shouting shut up shut up shut up shut up, your mouth just kept moving.
âIs that so?â Regulus asked, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he scrutinized you.
âI donât know actually.â You admitted, realizing you may have just lied to Regulus Black about Ancient Egypt. âI, I suppose I meant that they put way more emphasis on death than life.â You cringed again. âI donât know if thatâs true either â itâs just, itâs... it's the pyramids!â You shouted desperately, earning you a shush from the librarian.Â
âThe pyramids?â He asked incredulously, a smile playing on his lips.
He was making fun of you, surely.
âYup. Pyramids.â You squeaked, turning your face back towards your textbook.
âAnd you got all of that from the runes translation?â
Your face burned in shame.
âUhm, no. The runes said no such thing. I justâŚknow things.â
âYou know things?â
âRight like, uhm, oh apparently Shakespeare didnât actually write any of the works attributed to his name. Did you know that? William Shakespeareâs parents were illiterate - which doesnât necessarily mean much because, perhaps he became learned later in life, right? However, William Shakespeareâs own children were also illiterate. I mean, what famous playwright wouldnât teach their children to read? Itâs all bollocks.âÂ
You had to catch your breath at the end of your tangent.
âThatâs a bold claim.â Regulus said plainly.Â
Fucking hells, was it hot in here?
âRight, well, erm. I have to go.â You said as you gathered your things and rushed towards the door.
âUhm, Y/N?â Regulus called.
âYes?â
âYour wand?â
You looked back at the table and, sure enough, your wand sat forgotten in your place.Â
âRight, thanks. Uhm, best of luck on the runeâs translation. Let me know if you need help and erm, uhm, I -Â bye!â
You stayed out of the library for two days after that.
Which brought you to today. You decided to try to save yourself the humiliation and Regulus the hassle of having to sit with you by finding a different table. You would leave your favourite table to Regulus if it meant saving yourself the embarrassment of uttering absolute nonsense to your schoolgirl crush.
What you had forgotten, however, was how the world was absolutely 100% without a doubt out to get you.
âMind if I sit here?â Regulus asked quietly, causing you to look up so quickly and, not being used to this table and unaware of the fact that you were sitting under a light sconce, you smacked your head rather painfully in the action.
âSon of a fucking dugbog.â You spat miserably as you rubbed at the sore spot already producing a lump on your head.
âWhy?â You all but screeched.
Regulus tilted his head at you as one of his eyebrows raised. âWhy?â
âYes, why.â
âWhy what?â
âOh for â why do you want to sit with me?!â
He looked close to smiling as he scrutinized your form. âDo you not want to sit with me?â
âOf course I want to sit with you!â You admitted embarrassingly - and loudly - earning you a shush from the librarian.
âSo, I can sit here then?â
You groaned and let your head thump onto the table in front of you â at least now youâd have a matching lump on the front of your head too.
âAt the risk of me making a total and utter fool of myself? Sure, be my guest.â
You swore you heard him chuckle under his breath as he pulled the chair out across from you. You didnât dare lift your head, however. Perhaps if you couldnât see his piercing silver gaze, or his adorable black curls, or his stupid smirk, then maybe you wouldnât be forced to say something ridiculous.Â
âWhat? No fun facts for me today?â Regulus â the arse â asked from across from you.
You raised your head slightly, though left your shoulders at table level as you levelled him with a glare.
âYouâre doing this to me on purpose, arenât you? What, you get off on me making a fool of myself?â
Regulus smirked, though something in his eyes turned a little soft as he spoke. âI donât think you make a fool of yourself.â
You scoffed and let your head fall back to its previous spot with a thud. âYouâre an arse and a liar, Regulus Black.â
âOkay, perhaps youâve been a little foolish.â He conceded, causing you to groan into the woodgrain of the table. âBut Iâve enjoyed every second of it.â
Your head snapped up at that, and even Regulus grimaced as he watched you just barely miss the light sconce behind you.
âYouâveâŚenjoyed me making a fool of myself?â You asked incredulously.
Regulus moved his head back and forth in a sort of âso-soâ gesture. âIâve enjoyed getting to listen to you. Why do you think Iâve been asking to sit with you all week?â
Apparently, your table wasnât Regulusâ favourite table. Or at least, that wasnât what made it his favourite â it was the fact that you had been sitting there that had made it so.
And ever since then, whatever table you were sitting at in the library â one would likely find Regulus Black there too.
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