#and petes lyrics are so. god i need to have a coffee with him and ask him so much about books and poetry and writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

parkers-gal · 3 years

Note

Heyy, i hope you are amazing and getting enough sleep and drinking enough water. But for the sleepover Can you have Tom and his brothers or cast mates reacting to readers (Ariana Grande) new video “34+35”. It doesn’t have to be smut seeing as how you don’t want to write smut.

i have a blurb where this is included in it, but if you want me to rewrite it you can send in the request again <3

requests are open

—

wc: 1.1k

Though Tom had helped you on some of the lyrics for the current tracks for your new studio album, he'd yet to hear any finished results or melodies (which was probably a good thing considering he started humming "needy," during a comic con event).

You, as well as several of your friends from the studio, were gathered in Tom's living room, everyone spread out on their own seats. You were slightly nervous, worried about how the boys would react from your sudden switch from pop to R&B.

"Ten minutes!" Harrison hollered from the kitchen, and a series of cheers went around as everyone continued what they were doing. It was a ritual, basically, to be together on release night like it was a New Year's countdown. Every new release meant the boys had something new to hear, so you also spent time going through each track and letting them decipher it as they pleased.

An album was no different.

Now, they'd already heard your leading single "positions," and you had to admit, their reactions when the words left your mouth were absolutely hilarious.

You recalled the memory:

"Wait- what?"

"Jesus Christ, Tom, you've turned her into a sex addict," Harry concluded.

"I have- I have not!"

You giggled, patting his shoulder while he processed the information.

"Okay if it's not about sex then what's it about?" Harrison asked.

You rolled your eyes, "I never said it wasn't about sex."

"Oh," they concluded, each of their eyes widening.

"I swear to god, Y/N, if you name drop me like you did Pete and Ri-'

"I didn't name drop anyone!" you laughed at him, hoping to relax him a little. "Tommy it's not like you're explicitly mentioned to be the inspiration. You just happen to have caused the lyrics, 's all."

"That's gross," Harry interrupted.

"Yeah, we don't need to hear about how much you love Tom's web shooter."

___

"Five minutes!" Harrison shouted again.

Tom had just returned from the kitchen, a fresh beer in his hand. He was coming over to you, sitting down softly and pulling you into his side, kissing your temple as you hummed. You intertwined your fingers, and he chuckled, giving your knuckles a kiss too.

"You ready, love?"

"I think the question is 'are you ready?'"

The two of you laughed just as Harrison and Harry had finally sat in their seats. They'd connected three wireless speakers to your phone, where you'd play the album for them for the first time.

"Two minutes."

Tom looked down to you with a proud smile, and you pinched his cheeks. You found out later that Harry had captured the moment on film.

Now, everyone was counting down the seconds, you included. Everyone was shouting excitedly, and you couldn't help but smile at the entire image.

"Okay, okay," you quieted everyone. "Track number one: shut up. Are we ready?"

"Hell yeah," Harry raised his beer.

"Hit it muchacha!"

You laughed, clicking the song.

As the intro started, you saw each of their expressions. The beginning was sort of Disney-like, and quite easy to reminisce about childhood films. However, their expressions quickly changed once your voice rang through.

You looked to Victoria with a satisfied grin, Tom's mouth agape and Harry's eyes wide as he tried not to spit out his beer.

"Guess it fuckin' just clicked one night," you sang along perfectly.

Sam barely swallowed his drink before he spoke first. "Holy shit," he laughed.

When the song ended, you paused the music, glancing to their faces in anticipation for one of them to speak first.

"Well?" you smiled nervously.

"It's quite.. Disney?"

"Yeah.." Harrison agreed with Sam. "But also very straight forward and holy shit you weren't playin' around."

"I quite like it," Tuwaine admitted. "It's very catchy."

"Okay, time for track two: 34+35."

"Oh man," Tom replied to you, putting his drink on the coffee table. "I've been dying to hear this one."

"Or at least know what it's about," Harry added.

You rolled your eyes with a knowing-grin, clicking the track. They were quiet just as it started, but by the fourth line of verse one, they had finally figured out what it was about.

"Fuck me till the daylight!" You sang, and Tom looked like he'd just wet his pants.

"Baby you might need a seat belt when I ride it," you laughed with Tayla.

Tuwaine seemed thoroughly amused by their reactions, playfully dancing along to the song. When the track came to a close, the realization seemed to have struck them just as you hummed out:

"Means I wanna 69 with ya... noooooo, shit."

As you paused the song before the next track, Harrison was turning towards Tom with an open mouth, finger pointed to you. He wasn't forming words, and you giggled at them, encouraging them.

"C'mon! Tell me what you think!"

"I believe you when you said Tom is kinky," Harry deadpanned.

Tom jutted his lip out, scrunching his brows together. "I am not! I have normal kinks!"

"I don't think 69 is a kink," Harrison concluded.

"Or common," Sam pointed out.

You laughed again, interrupting them. "It's not about Tom," you confessed.

It was Tom's turn to look at you with wide eyes. "Are you just doing 69 with other gentlemen then?"

"N-no," You spoke during laughs. "It's not from personal experience."

The five of them "oh'ed" and you laughed again with a nod.

Forty minutes later and you were listening to the last track of the album, sad that it came so soon.

"Ready?"

"Let's do it," Harrison chugged the rest of his beer. Tom snuggled closer into your side and you kissed his cheek before pressing play.

During this track, the boys didn't talk at all, which was peculiar to you. They didn't even react until you spoke once it ended.

"Well? You guys were awful quiet? Do you like it-"

"It's really pretty," Tom confessed, a blush adorned on his cheek.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It's almost soft compared to the rest."

You nodded along, "Yeah, I'd think so too."

"Who's it about?" Sam asked. Your eyebrows went up, and he 'surrendered.'

"Well then," Harry stood up. "Congrats Y/N/N," he moved in to give you a hug and you returned it. "I'm gonna hit the sack."

"Yeah same," Harrison said, repeating Harry's movements.

By the time they'd all left, you and Tom were left alone cleaning up everything and washing dishes at one A.M.

"Can I ask who it's about?"

"Which one?" You asked, scrubbing the bottom of a plate before handing it to him to rinse and dry.

"The, uh- the last one."

"Oh," you looked at the sponge in your hands. "It's about you."

The tips of his ears reddened, and you had to will yourself not to laugh at it.

"I really.. love it," he admitted almost bashfully, avoiding your gaze.

"Well," you grabbed his hands despite the suds. "I really love you."

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earlgreytea68 · 3 years

Text

This post got me thinking about Pete and religion.

Fall Out Boy lyrics are full of Christian religious imagery. You kind of get the impression that Pete was raised in a household where he was just casually surrounded by all of this STUFF, that he absorbed and turned over in his lyrics. I mean, “Knock once for the Father, twice for the Son, three times for the Holy Ghost”... (West Coast Smoker).

He’s preoccupied by Heaven as an exclusive party. The idea shows up again and again. The Black Cards (I *love* the Black Cards stuff, I need to devote a whole thing to Black Cards at some point) have an entire song called “A Club Called Heaven.” On “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Fame,” “Heaven’s got a gate full of metal detectors.” On “Thriller,” he shows up with his plus one to the afterlife.

But Pete’s not entirely sure he’s getting into that party. In fact, usually Pete puts himself in Hell: He might be dancing in a club called Heaven, but he knows the doorman in Hell personally. The road to his house is paved with good intentions in Hum Hallelujah (which is, of course, traditionally what the road to Hell is paved with); “we’re just Hell’s neighbors” in America’s Suitehearts (if we’re not in Hell, we’re right next door, and that could be Heaven but I don’t think so). To get on St. Peter’s list, you need to lower your standards, says Rat-a-Tat. This is what Pete Wentz lyrics do, a simple sentence like that is LOADED with meaning. Because after all, his name is Peter, and it could be Peter Wentz’s list he’s referring to there, and it could also be the list to get into Heaven, and it could be that getting on Peter Wentz’s list doesn’t actually take that much (lower your standards, I’m never getting any better than this) and it could be that it’s St. Peter at the gates of Heaven who needs to lower *his* standards (again: I’m never getting any better than this).

(My absolute favorite Heaven/Hell lyric, though, is when Pete throws in Purgatory, that place in Catholicism where you go to do penance for your sins before you’re let into Heaven: On w.a.m.s. Pete writes, “My head’s in Heaven, my soles are in Hell, let’s meet in the Purgatory of my hips.” The glorious beauty of the sex innuendo being the *purgatory*: what you have to get yourself through to get to actual Heaven. ugh, Pete Wentz kills me sometimes with the way he uses words.)

He left his conscience pressed between the pages of the Bible in the drawer, but what did it ever do for him? So asks XO, and the gorgeously ambiguous phrasing of those lines KILLS ME. What’s the antecedent to the “it”? His conscience, sure, that’s what he’s thrown carelessly in the drawer. WITH THE BIBLE. Which could also be the “it”: What did that whole faith thing ever get me anyway?

But he wants it *so badly.* My second favorite lyric from Hum Hallelujah (a song that is nothing but excellent lyrics is “I love you in the same way there’s a chapel in a hospital.” There is SO MUCH packed into that line. SO, SO MUCH. And one of the things in there is the ambiguous irresistibility of faith: Sure, maybe the chapel is a last-ditch effort when nothing else works, or maybe that chapel is the ONLY thing that works and the only thing that matters in the whole place. I love you like that, like I don’t know if you’re all I’ve got left or you’re the only thing that matters, and I don’t know which it is but wow, either way, it would be great if you gave me a sign. Ugh that liiiiiine. “Have you ever wanted to disappear and join a monastery?” asks 20 Dollar Nose Bleed.

“I will never believe in anything again,” says (Coffee’s for Closers), but who really believes that? The temptation of belief creeps up in between the proclamation (”kick drum beating in my chest again,” “preach electric to a microphone stand”), undercutting it in the same way that its over-repetition in the song starts to ring hollow (Pete doth protest too much). The comfort that religious people get from their faith in God, Pete wants that. But he can’t get there. He’s always hedging his bets (“in case God doesn’t show” --Thnks fr th Mmrs). He’s always doubtful of God’s good intentions if He is there (”when the world ends, will God go down with it?” --What a Catch, Donnie).

So he tries to find substitutes for this faith he doesn’t have. “My words are my faith,” says Hum Hallelujah, but then, immediately afterward, “To hell with our good name,” so that’s how much actual trust he thinks you should place in that. “We’re a bull and your ears are a china shop.” Look at what a mess my words can make in there if you let them in; that’s what faith does to you, buddy. His gospel is the gospel of giving up (Arms Race). “Follow the disorganized religion of my head,” says West Coast Smoker. “I can work a miracle,” boasts Uma Thurman. “I’m the holy water you have been without,” says Fourth of July.

But he’s not really what he wants to believe in. “We’re saints just swimming in our sins,” Twin Skeleton’s reminds everyone. “If we pray to the Lord,” goes the outro on w.a.m.s., “does he sing on a stage?” Maybe rock and roll is what he should be believing in? “I’m the last damn kid still kicking who still believes,” claims Save Rock and Roll. “I will defend the faith, going down swinging.”

All of which brings us to MANIA. Religion, faith, belief is ALL OVER MANIA. In fact, the entire album is constructed as a journey toward finding the thing you believe in, the thing you have faith in, and finally settling in to cling tight to it. The first song on the album, Stay Frosty, Royal Milk Tea, is struggling with loss of things to believe in: “All my childhood heroes have fallen off or died.” (Champion later has the same theme: “I’m young enough to still believe, but young enough not to know what to believe in.” The most explicit Pete has ever been about his journey toward faith.) But then, in the second song, Last of the Real Ones, the lyrics have found someone to revolve around, someone to be with forever: “the ultra-kind of love,” that ultimate faith. But it’s not quite there yet. There’s doubt in there. “Tell me I’m the only one even if it’s not true.” “There’s been a million before me.” The bridge is expert Fall-Out-Boy song ambiguity. “I’m done with having dreams, the thing that I believe / you drain the fear from me.” Is that “I believe that you drain the fear from me”? Or is that “I’m done with the thing that I believe”? The song’s phrasing lets it be both at once, both a proclamation of faith and a proclamation of doubt, all at the same time.

But things get better. We eventually get to “Church.” An entire song where the religious imagery is pitched toward love (or blowjobs, like, same thing, maybe, for Pete Wentz). “If YOU were church, I’d get on my knees, confess my love, I’d know where to be, my sanctuary, you’re holy to me,” is the refrain of the whole song. It can’t get any clearer than that. Pete Wentz has found what he wants to believe in, and it’s the YOU (whoever that might be ahem just saying that in “Sunshine Riptide,” the she says “I love you ‘til I don’t,” while the You is the “truest feeling yet”). The other enduring theme in MANIA is fakeness and pretend: fake tears, fake friends, people you’re pretending with and around. That theme shows up in Church, too: “I’ve got a few more fake friends and it’s getting hard to know what’s real.” But in Church the proclamation of faith is in the chorus, which means that no matter how anxious Pete gets himself in the lyrics, he resolves back to the central belief: I’ve got you, I know where I should be. YOU’RE what’s real, right here, forget everyone else.

AND THEN we get Heaven’s Gate. Which revisits Pete’s favorite idea that Heaven is a party he’s going to have to try to crash. But here the song is all about how he’s no longer aimlessly looking for something to believe in; he’s found it: “I’m a missile that’s guided to you.” Maybe he’s gotten it wrong, that he’s chosen the You as his thing to believe in, that the only thing he wants is Your love, but if he’s gotten it wrong, he’s got faith the You is going to get it right and give him the boost he needs into Heaven. “Honey, please come through” and take me along with Your awesomeness, because I’ve decided it’s You I’m going to follow, Your dreams I’m going to make come true, and I’m not going to try to detox from You anymore, I’m just going to go all-in on this whole thing, and in the end, if I don’t make it on the list, will You slip me a wristband?

The album closes out with Young and Menace, with “I’ve lived so much life I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice,” which is such a beautiful bookend to “I read about the afterlife but I never really lived” in Saturday, like, ugh, that always kills me, look how far Pete Wentz has come, and then finally into Bishop’s Knife Trick: “I’m yours, ‘til the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll away.”

Let’s go back to the places that we never should have left.

Idk, maybe you could read this as: Pete Wentz finally found something to believe in, and it ended up being the person who hasn’t left his side in 20 years, the person he’s never had to pretend with, the person who’s been there through all the fake friends, the person who’s golden and amazing and DEFINITELY going to get it right when Pete doesn’t. I mean, maybe you could read it this way.

#long post #peterick #pete wentz #fall out boy #fob

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mouse-fantoms · 3 years

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Study Session Sabotage

Read on Ao3!

A jealous Luke sabotaging a Julie and Nick study session

It was clear to both of them after the whole cradling each other’s faces, there was definitely something more there.

Sure, Luke played off the “oozing chemistry” comment from Reggie, and tried to prove that he has chemistry with everyone (i.e. passionately serenading Reggie with Edge of Great). His friends already knew though. Of course there was also Julie’s “Perfect Harmony”. She imagined dancing with a ghost for pete’s sake. Then the, “This is an interesting little relationship you and I have.” It was only a matter of time before they talked about it.

The conversation went as normal as a conversation between a lifer and a ghost could be. They had a mature conversation about the topic. They both acknowledged their feelings for each other as well as also realizing how interesting of a relationship they have is (the whole having a crush on someone who you theoretically, can’t be a thing with, forbidden romance so to speak). At least now they got it out of the way and not too much changed between them. If anything, it helped make their songwriting sessions together stronger. Which was why Luke was confused over how Julie had been acting during this session.

“Okay, something is obviously on your mind.” He finally stated after awhile into it.

They were sat on the couch together, his journal open on the coffee table in front of him, scribbles of whatever lyrics came to them.

“Hm?” He caught her attention.

“That’s what I mean! You’re usually in the zone when we write together.”

“In the zone?”

“Yeah. You get this shine in your eye, your smile becomes brighter than thousands of stars as lyrics come to your-” he realized he was starting to go on one of his ‘I-love-Julie Molina’ speeches as Alex and Reggie had called them. “What’s on your mind?”

She sat up from the couch and went on the other side of the coffee table to distance herself from him.

“It’s just...” she was fidgeting with her fingers.

“You can tell me you know.” He stood up from the couch to face.

“Nick asked me to help him study.”

She expected an answer from him but continued when she didn’t get one, “And I said yes.”

“That’s it?”

A confused expression came on her face. “You’re not-”

“What?” He smiled. “You think just because whatever this thing going on between us is, you can’t hang out with other people?”

“Well it’s a study session.”

“He does have a crush on you.” Luke argued.

“Well you would know.”

The comment made air come out of his nose. “You want my permission to have a study session with him? Sure, of course you can.”

“...You’re sure you’re ok with it?”

“Of course. Even if it wasn’t one I’d still be cool with it.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Promise!” He put his hands up in defense. “I wish you and Nick a fun study session.”

She smiled. “Ok, now that that’s out of the way I do have this one lyric in mind.”

~~~

“So what are you guys studying?”

“Oh my god!”

Her reaction to his question came after his multiple other ones. Reggie and Luke were behind the counter as she was setting up the kitchen table for her study session. She didn’t mind the company whenever she was doing things around the house. That was unless one of them had been doing what Luke was. Luke rested his chin on his hand on the kitchen counter.

“Really?” Reggie had the same reaction as Julie.

“Can’t I be curious?” He defended.

“I thought you said you were cool with it?”

“I am but can’t I just... want to know more about the event?”

“Event?” Reggie folded his arms. “It’s a study date.”

“Not a date!” Julie repeated for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Right, if it was you probably would have worn that pink blush dress.” Luke input.

“Oh and that dress paired with black flats, that would be a look!” His friend added.

“Oh! And a nice rose gold necklace too-“

The two noticed Julie’s crossed arms, unimpressed with their conversation. “Since when did you two become fashion experts?”

“There’s only so much you can do when you’re rotating through a trash bag of clothes.” Reggie answered.

“Nick is just coming over to study.” She repeated yet again. “You’re asking more questions than my dad did.”

“When is he getting back, by the way?” The jet black haired boy wondered.

“Not until later.”

She saw a disappointed look on the bassist’s face. “Maybe you can hang with Alex when he gets back. I would say Luke but that’s if he gets done babysitting my-”

“Babysitting?” He sounded offended.

“You are hovering.”

“You are.” Julie agreed alongside Reggie.

“I’m cool with it, I promise! I can show yo-” Before he could ‘defend’ himself even more the doorbell rang.

“Behave.” She warned going over to grab the door.

When she went to get the door she heard part of a conversation between the two ghosts. It went something along the lines of Reggie offering that Luke and him could work on something in the garage. Luke politely declined saying that he needed to prove to Julie that he was cool with the study session. He proposed that Reggie could perhaps go to the studio and write a song of his own. The ghost perked up remembering that he had another ‘Home is Where my Horse is’ to add to the roster.

“Hey!” Nick greeted once she opened the door.

“Hi! Come on in!” She opened the door wider for him. “You can set your stuff down at the table.” She closed the door and gestured over to the table.

“So is it just us?” He asked, setting his backpack down against the leg of the table at the seat that was in front of the counter.

She saw Luke, who was still behind the counter with his chin propped up, raising his eyebrows as if to tell her ‘see... a date’ wanting to be told later he was right.

“Yeah,” she responded as he got his materials out of his bag and set them on the table where he would sit, “my dad and brother will be out for a bit until then it’s just us.”

“Cool. Thanks for agreeing. I know last time you said you probably wouldn’t be able to because of your band.”

Julie looked away when she sat down across from him, reaching down to get her materials from her pack. Her attention was caught when she heard the noise of the chair being suddenly pushed out. She looked up and saw Nick, barely sitting on the edge of the chair, and then Luke, who stood just behind the chair, seemingly twiddling his thumbs.

“Did you just have your floors waxed or something?” Nick asked, adjusting himself on the chair and scooting himself in.

“No…” she trailed off looking at the likely colperurate.

“I just pulled out the chair and it seemed to slip.”

“Mhm… slip…” she was still glaring at the one she suspected.

“Well,” he reached into his bag and pulled out his textbook, flipping through the pages until he got to the right one, “I guess we could start.” He bent down back into his pack to get his pencil case, until there was a loud clap.

Both Nick and Julie’s heads went to the textbook that both knew was previously just open but now showed the cover.

“Didn’t I-” he looked to Julie who seemed to be staring daggers passed him, “And then it-“

“It’s probably the wind.” She seemed to say through her teeth.

“Wind?”

“The AC. You know how it is.”

He nodded, not entirely knowing how it is. He shook his head to forget the book that suddenly closed on its own. He opened the book back up and placed his pencil case on top to ensure it stayed open this time. He put his pencil on the left side of the book while he went to grab the papers that went with the work. Julie, meanwhile, was also getting her materials out in front of her.

He pulled out the papers and went to grab his pencil only to be met with the table’s surface instead. Looking, the pencil had rolled away from the textbook. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if the pencil hadn’t made it one.

The weird part, it didn’t continuously roll away. He would go to grab it. It would then roll, then stop and when he went to grab the stopped pencil it continued to roll. Seeming like it was purposefully trying to get away from his grasp.

“Maybe you should turn down that AC.”

“Hm?” She asked looking up to him to see his outstretched arm and the pencil at his fingertips.

“The wind seems to really be blowing my pencil away.”

“Does it now?” She seemed agitated.

“Either that or you have some sort of gho-“ he caught himself, “...a phantom…”

“Huh?” This was the one time Nick could tell her attention was fully on him.

“How come your band is called ‘Julie and the Phantoms’?” He put his arm back under the table, discarding the writing utensil at the of it.

“Oh…” an answer took a moment to form, “Well Flynn actually came up with it.”

“Why the phantoms?” The question didn’t really come to mind until now.

“Well… the effect of when they join me on stage looks kind of like that of a ghost.” Technically was not a lie.

The more he thought about it, the more questions came. “You’ve never been into tech kind of hologram stuff before.”

“Well…”

“And even when the hologram projector worked at the dance… you still didn’t perform with them and the WiFi was working completely fine for school WiFi.”

He saw her hesitate. “Maybe you should-” she went to the cabinets, “Would you maybe want some water or anything?”

He noticed her wanting to change the subject. “Sure…”

She nodded telling him that she understood. She got a glass and filled up his cup. He thanked her as she began to get herself a cup as well.

He would have taken a sip as soon as she put it on the table if it wasn’t for when he reached for it, the cup decided to inch north. This occurrence had happened too often in this short amount of time that a pattern was noticed. Nick looked to Julie who was busy putting water in her glass and turned his head back to his. To test his hypothesis, he again reached for it only to have it yet again move inches out of his reach. Things would only move if Julie wasn’t looking.

Maybe he could get the cup if he was quick enough. A few attempts had occurred at trying to grab it before it went out of his grasp, none were successful. Especially the last attempt, well in a way he was. He was too quickly though. As the cup moved his fingertips grazed it and made it clink on the table, spilling the liquid.

Julie looked up, hearing the clink, glaring rather annoyed just next to him.

“...Maybe I’ll just get my own water.” Nick grabbed the now empty cup and went over to the sink. He pulled on the faucet’s handle and no incident had occurred, until less than a second later when the water from the faucet began to spray all over him. As if someone had put their thumb on the spout of the faucet, making the water squirt all over.

“Nick I-” She went to try to help the completely soaked boy, but realized there wasn’t much she could do.

“Maybe we could reschedule this study session,” he tried to wring his sleeve out in the sink, “once you have this ‘AC’ under control.” He went back over to the table.

“Nick I’m sorry I-”

“Molina it’s fine.” He looked up from putting his things in his backpack to her behind the counter. “I just have the feeling this ‘AC’ is targeting me. Tell me whenever you have it worked out then we can maybe try this again. See you at school partner.” Julie watched as he put his bag on his shoulder and headed out the door.

“Well, not much studying was happening during the study date.” She turned around to see Luke stood at the sink. She crossed her arms at him. “...What?”

She shook her head at him, let out a huff of air and put her arms down as she went over by the oven to get the towel that was slung over the handle.He followed her as she took the towel to wipe up the water on the floor of the kitchen.

“What exactly were you supposed to be studying because that was not happening.” He kept noticing her annoyed look as she went over to the table to clean the water over there.

“...Maybe I could-” he tried to reach for the towel in her hand but she pulled it away from him, obviously not in the mood. Maybe later though, she would be in less of a mood.

~~~

“Are you still upset?”

He poofed into her room after she hadn’t come into the garage for a songwriting session. She was on her bed, possibly doing work for a class not paying any attention to when he poofed in.

He took a seat at the edge of her bed. “How are we supposed to do a songwriting session if you’re still giving me the silent treatment?”

“You’re right. If I continue you may douse me with water.”

“...Well not on you.”

“What happened?”

It was hard to ignore the question when she was staring right at him. “What do you-”

“You know exactly what I mean! You said you were cool with it!”

“I was!”

“Really? Because trying to pull his chair out from under him, rolling away his pencil and dowsing him with water, just to name a few, didn’t seem like you were! You were acting like a jealous boyfriend!”

He perked up. “Is that what-“ he cleared his throat, “are we-”

Based on her angrily getting up from her bed, after an eye roll, that was clearly not a conversation she wanted to have right now.

“Right, right! Not a discussion right now.” He stood up to face her across the room. “...I thought I would be cool with it.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place. I told you that it was just a study session.”

“But he asked if it was only you two.”

“He was just curious who was in the house. Or maybe he wanted to say hi to dad and Carlos since it’s been a little bit since he’s seen them.”

“Oh… well…” He started to feel slightly guilty.

“For the record, he knows how I feel about dates.”

“He does?”

“He already tried to ask me out.”

“...tried?” The more and more the conversation continued the guilty kept sinking in.

She nodded. “And I said no.”

“...well now I feel really dumb.”

She stepped closer to the bed. “Why didn’t you just trust me that there wasn’t anything other than studying?”

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you it’s just…” he looked for words to say, “...I don’t know what happened.”

She crossed her arms, not buying his statement.

“I don’t know I guess I just- I was being jealous.” He sat on the corner of her bed. “I guess some part of me wanted to be Nick.”

She sat next to him, wanting him to elaborate more.

“If I was alive that maybe we could do study sessions like that, maybe I could go to school with you and come by your locker and-”

“If you were alive,” her voice brought his attention from his hands to her beside him, “we wouldn’t have met.”

He shared her little smile.

“I’m sorry. I should have left you two alone to have your own study session. I didn’t mean to get jealous. He seems like a good guy.”

“I think you and him would get along.”

“You do?” He seemed taken aback.

“Both of you get passionate about what you like, both of you play guitar-”

“Does he now?” He raised his eyebrows at his ‘competition’.

“Oww!” He said in response to Julie jabbing her elbow in his arm. “I was kidding!”

“I don’t know, you might soak him in water again.”

“...That did cross the line.”

“For all I know he could be scared to come back again even if I got the ‘AC’ under control.”

“He definitely knows it’s not the AC.”

He saw the lightbulb in her head go off. “What?”

“You’re one hundred percent fine this time with a study session between Nick and I?”

“Yes.” He confirmed.

~~~

“Come on in.” She let open the door for Nick. “Thanks for agreeing to come back after… last time.”

He seemed cautious as she closed the door. “Yeah… no problem.”

“Don’t worry you won’t get sprayed with water this time. I had a talk with the ‘AC’.”

“The ‘AC’ doesn’t happen to be in your band… does he?” His attention was suddenly turned to the kitchen table seeing from his peripheral vision a chair move. “...Did that just-”

“He let out your chair for you this time.”

“...Well it’s already going better than last time.”

She gestured towards the table for him to sit. She followed behind as he set his bag down and sat. He looked cautiously around.

“I promise, you have nothing to be worried about.”

“Just so we’re on the same page, the phantoms in your band are most definitely ghosts?”

She nodded.

“Oh. ...Cool.”

“Cool?”

“I mean you guys already make amazing music, it's an added layer that they’re ghosts.”

“You probably have a lot of questions.”

“Right now, the one who haunted me is cool with me now?”

“I have a strict no haunting rule but yes, he is fine with you.”

He suddenly had a thought. “...You can see them all the time can’t you?”

“Yeah we don’t really know why.” She noticed what he said. “...How’d you know that?”

“In the hall, when I came up to you at your locker. You fixed what you said about telling me to shut up and then punched in the shoulder too, something you never do. Just before went to practice for our dance… you said your mind wondered and you called me Luke. Luke was there wasn’t he? He’s the one who haunted me.”

“You catch on quick.”

He leaned in to whisper, “Are you two a-”

“I would prefer to have this conversation when he’s out of the room.” She directed her statement next to him.

“Oh come on!” Luke let out. “I’ll be helpful this time. I promise no water will be slipped. Let me show you that- ugh fine.” He could read her expression. “I wish you two a nice study session.”

She turned her head back to Nick, indicating that Luke probably left.

“Between you and me, his guitar skills are-”

“Probably not so bad yourself either blondie.”

“Luke!” She scolded seeing him poof in behind the counter.

“Right, right. I’m gone. Sorry!” He put his palms up and poofed out once again.

“This time,” she looked to Nick, “no more distractions. I promise.”

“Hey as long as I don’t get haunted, it’s fine. He can haunt you all he wants.”

“He can… can’t he?” She smiled to where the ghost was moments ago before her and Nick actually began their study session, free of a jealous ghost this time.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp netflix #jatp fanfic #jatp juke #jatp julie #julie jatp #julie molina #jatp luke #luke jatp #luke patterson #jatp nick #nick jatp #nick danforth evans #jatp reggie #reggie jatp #reggie peters #jatp fanfiction #jatp one shot

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever - Chapter Six

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer and depression

Masterlist

Two months later, I sat in my doctors office and impatiently bounced my leg. I reflected on my past two months in New York. It was June now. Venom and I had fallen into a routine. We’d work on the Cletus Kasady start by day and go patrolling at night. Of course, being Venoms wasn’t a nightly occurrence. We’d only go out eating once or twice a week. Still, we managed to have 11 run ins with Spider-Man.

Peter and I had become significantly closer in that past two months as well. I’d help him with his homework, though I secretly thought he was smarter than me, and he helped me with my story. Some nights, he’d visit me on my fire escape and we’d watch the sun go down. I had no idea how he got there, but I didn’t care. I felt like Juliet and he was my Romeo. I’d send him science puns while he was at school and he’d bring me food and keep me company when I had writers block. My favorite was our long talks on the roof. We would I sit there for hours and tell each other everything. I knew all his secrets and he knew mine. Well, not all. He didn’t know about Venom. I didn’t want to tell him about her just yet in fear of his reaction.

And every now and then, we’d catch the other staring. Then, the other would I stare back until someone, usually Peter, started to lean in. Every time I thought we were finally going to take the next step, something would interrupt us. Whether it was May knocking or Ned barging in or Peters phone ringing. That was another thing about Peter. His damn phone was always ringing and then he’d have to dash off somewhere, leaving me with a random excuse or something about an internship. Sometimes, I wish he’d just throw his phone aside and kiss me.

“I’m okay?” I asked.

“Your scans were all clean. I know the tumor was genetic, but it seemed to skip you. You’re very lucky, Miss L/N.” The doctor informed me.

I knew this day would come eventually. Mary was my age when she was diagnosed with cancer. I just thought the results would be different. Considering my track record, I was a very unlucky person. But somehow, I was cancer free when my beautiful sister wasn’t. I felt my eyes well up with tears. This should’ve been how her doctors appointment went. I shouldn’t have had to hold her hand as she broke down on the floor and cried. We were teenagers. She deserved to live. I got in my car and wiped my tears on the back of my sleeves. I hastily turned on the radio. I needed a distraction.

“But what scares me the most is what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it? What if he runs the other way and I can't hide from it?” A sweet sounding country accent sang on the radio sang. I looked at my radio and read the title of the song. It was from the musical Waitress. I was never big on theater but the lyrics sounded as if I could’ve written them myself. The song was right. What if I told Peter who I really was and he ran away? He was sweet and understanding, but how understanding could he possibly be when I tell him I can turn into a flesh eating monster? I turned my radio up and listened to the song.

“What happens then if when he knows me, he's only disappointed? What if I give myself away, to only get it given back? I couldn't live with that.” The song sang. It was true again. What if Peter got to know me and was disappointed? What if he ran away before I even told him about Venom?

“He could be less than kind. Or even worse he could be very nice, have lovely eyes, and make me laugh, come out of hiding. What do I do with that?” The song continued. All those things described Peter. I felt another tear run down my cheek. Not because of what had happened with the doctors visit, but because of the loss of what could’ve been but now can never be.

“Oh, God what if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can't close it?” Peter had opened up a door. I thought Andy was the love of my life. I used to think that if he asked, I’d be his in a second. But I didn’t feel that way anymore. I had finally moved on. I didn’t want to be with Andy anymore. I wanted to be with Peter.

“What happens then if when he holds me, my heart is set in motion? I'm not prepared for that, I'm scared of breaking open.” I silently cried as the song played. I was scared too. I was scared of letting Peter in and him letting himself right out. I was scared of repeating the mistakes I made with Andy. No. I wasn’t scared. I was petrified. I pulled my car over and began to shake with violent sobs.

I swallowed thickly. The song was bringing out new fears in me that I didn’t know I had. It was right. What if Peter didn’t like what he saw? What if he realized I was too messy to be with? Or had too much baggage? Peter deserved a nice girl. One with a normal family and friends. One without depression. One without a flesh eating symbiote attached to their immune system. My friends were my ex-fiancé and his new girlfriend, all my family was dead, Venom was coursing through my veins, and my mental health was ultimately lacking. Was I even good enough for Peter? Was I actually dumb enough to think that I was?

“What’s wrong baby?” Venom asked with concern. She cuddled around my neck and nuzzled into my cheek. I felt her tendrils wiping my tears.

“I can never be with Peter.” I cried. Admitting it felt like a fatal blow to the stomach. Venom tied my hair up with one of her arms and continued to dry my face.

“Why do you say that?”

I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t want to tell Venom that I was feeling insecure. She freaked out on me whenever I said something negative about myself. I didn’t wanna another 100 slide PowerPoint titled “why Y/N L/N is the baddest bitch in the galaxy”. Especially since forty of those slides were just pictures of my butt. I appreciated Venom with all my heart, but I was feeling the kind of insecure that a pep talk couldn’t fix. I needed to figure it out on my own. Instead, I told her a different fear I had.

“Because. Look at us. We’re the only thing keeping each other alive. What if we get separated and die? I can’t become one of those people in Peters life who loved him and then left him. His mom, his dad, his Uncle Ben. I don’t want to die and leave Peter behind. He’s been through enough. He’d be so much better off without me.” I said. I had calmed down enough to talk to Venom. She listened patiently.

“We’re not gonna die. You protect me and I protect you. Nothing will hurt us as long as we have each other.” Venom assured me.

“I can’t protect you like you protect me. I’m just a human. What if something happens to me and you die because of it?” I whimpered. Venom and I both knew I was nothing without her. She could move on and find another host, obviously not a perfect match like we were, but good enough to keep going and be fine. I, on the other hand, was just a reporter. I couldn’t defend myself if I needed to. I was her puppet. She did all the work in battles. I was just the vessel. I knew I was spiraling but I couldn’t get myself to stop.

“Nothing will happen to you, Y/N. I promise. I won’t let it.” Venom swore. I looked up at her and gave her a sad smile.

“I won’t let anything happen to you either.” I said. But I didn’t promise it. I knew I couldn’t promise it. Venom didn’t mind. She nuzzled my cheek again.

“And you can be with Peter. On Klyntar, we mate for life. And I think you’ve found your mate in Peter.” Venom told me.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’ve become attached to him and will never be happy with anyone else.” Venom said. I let out a shaky breath. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I needed a reason to shut my feelings for Peter down.

“Like soulmates?” I asked.

“Exactly like soulmates.”

I thought about what she said. “What happens on Klyntar if someone is your soulmate but you’re not theirs?”

“Then we go into a cave and mourn until we die alone of heartbreak.” Venom said simply.

“That sounds about right.” I laughed sadly. I took a second to think

“I’m gonna call that guy back.” I decided.

“What guy?” She asked.

“They guy who asked me out at the coffee shop this morning.” I reminded her.

“The one with the stupid hair? Why would you call him?” Venom asked angrily.

“What was wrong with his hair?” I laughed.

“It was blonde. We like brunette.” Venom said with a devilish grin.

“His hair was fine. And I’m gonna call him to say yes to the date.” I said.

“Why would we do that when we love Peter?”

“Because if Peter doenst love us, I don’t want to die of heartbreak alone in a cave.” I admitted.

“He does love you.” Venom protested.

“We don’t know that. It’s just one date. I need to get back out there anyway. I haven’t gone on a date since the night before Andy and I broke up.” I reasoned.

“Fine. But this is a terrible idea and I’m going to complain the whole time and sing the Les Mis soundtrack in your head.” Venom grumbled. This was one of those moments where she felt more like my toddler than my symbiote.

I ran into Peter in the hallway on my way to my room. I hoped he couldn’t tell I had been crying. I gave my face a quick wipe down before I looked at him.

“Hey Y/n! You want to come over later and help me with spanish? I’ll amo you mucho.” Peter asked. I wanted so badly to say yes. But I had to stick my guns.

“Aw I’m sorry Pete. I wish I could but I have a date tonight.” I said. I instantly regretted telling him about the date when I saw the look on his face.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks. His heart sank to the floor. He went from feeling devastated to feeling white hot anger in a matter of seconds

“A date? With who?” He snapped.

“Some boy I met at the coffee shop.” I said weakly.

“Oh.” He said dully. Some boy. Some freaking dirty bitch ass sissy coffee boy asked his girl out. Peter felt like hunting the man down and smacking the shit out of him. Or at the very least, webbing him to a wall leaving him there until he missed the date. Who did he think he was asking Y/n out? Didn’t he know you guys were meant to be? Peter should’ve known though. Y/n was beautiful and it was only a matter of time before someone else asked her out.

“What’s his name?” Peter asked. He wanted to put a name to his new mortal enemy.

“Matt.” I answered.

Freaking Matt. Freaking dirty ass bitch ass thot ass Matt. Was Matt Spider-Man? No. Could Matt treat Y/n as well as he could? Mayhaps. But did he love her as much? No. Did he have inside jokes with her? Could he make her laugh her beautiful laugh just by doing a Captain America impression? No. He wasn’t good enough for her. He couldn’t do the things Peter could do. He was trash. He was a trashy dirty ass rat boy Peter thought.

“Interesting.” Peter deadpanned. Freaking Matt.

“I’ll text you when it’s over and maybe I can help you then. That sound okay, guapo?” I offered. He nodded sadly, not even acknowledging that I called him handsome. Actually, he probably had no idea that I did. He was smart, but only in English.

“That’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He mumbled.

I watched Peter trudge into his apartment and felt a pain in my heart. He seemed so upset all the sudden. It couldn’t be from my date, could it? It’s not like I told him I got engaged or something. It was one little date. Peter has never even made a move. He had no reason to be upset. I brushed it off and went into my apartment to get ready.

Just as Venom said, the date went horribly. We drove back to the apartment in silence afterwards, leaving Matt to clean himself off.

“Why did that happen?” I asked her. I was so mortified from the events of the night but I needed to know why they happened.

“Because he wasn’t your soulmate.” Venom said simply.

“We defiled that boy.” I nearly shouted.

“It happens.” Venom stated.

“It shouldn’t.” I said, shocked at how nonchalantly she was being.

“But it does.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. I shot Peter a text when I got back to my apartment but fell asleep before he could answer. I woke up a few hours later in a cold sweat and in tears. I didn’t know Peter was listening to my breathing picking up and the small cries of his his name in my sleep with his superhearing.

I had had a nightmare that shook me deeply. It was about Peter, like many of my dreams were. But in this dream, he and I laid injured on the ground. Venom and I were separated and I was bleeding out. I couldn’t do anything to save him. I couldn’t scream for help. And worse, I couldn’t protect him. It caused me great agony to not be able to reach him. I got out of my bed and made my way to the door. I needed to see him. I needed to tell him that I’d been in love with him since the day we met. I didn’t care about my insecurities anymore. I didn’t care about all the things keeping us apart. I only cared about him. I threw all my previous doubts out the window. I loved him. I loved that boy. With every ounce of my beating heart. I loved his messed up eyebrow and his baggy clothes. I loved the permanent bags under his eyes and his sweet smelling cologne. I loved his messy hair and his even more adorable bed head. I loved him in a way that consumed me. He needed to know that. I couldn’t wait another second.

I swung open my door, only to find Peter Parker outside my door in pink Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and a tight white t-shirt. His hand was raised, like he was about to knock.

“Hey.” I breathed. His hair was tousled and sticking up in random places. He looked heavenly.

“Hi.” He said shyly.

“I was just about to go to your door. I had a bad dream.” I said. I was anxious to skip the semantics and cut right to the chase. I love you and I’m yours if you’ll have me.

“Yea, I heard. That’s why I’m here.” Peter explained. That’s not what he wanted to say. I’m always here if you need me. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. I love you. It’ll be okay. He looked at me funny.

She looked so beautiful he thought. Makeup free, hair a little messy, and nothing but an oversized sweatshirt to cover her figure. Peter recognized the sweatshirt as his own, one she had swiped from his laundry basket because she was freezing while they watched Alien. He felt so honored to know that she slept in it. Peter wondered how many times he could fall in love with her in a short span of time. In the past few seconds, he’d fallen about 15 times. Once for every breath you took. And you were breathing quite heavily.

“You heard?” I asked. How could he had possible heard from his apartment?

“My hearing is excellent. Are you alright?” Peter stuttered out. Please be alright. I’d stop anything that tried to hurt you. I’ll protect you from the storm. Don’t shut me out. Don’t turn me away. Let me love you. I was still breathing heavy and he could tell.

“Um…” I began. I looked behind me at my empty apartment. The darkness looked anything but inviting. I couldn’t go back in there just yet.

“No?” I said. Please dont go. It came out as more of a question.

“No? Do you want to talk about it-“ I rushed into Peters arm and hugged him tightly. He seemed taken aback, seeing as I nearly knocked the wind out of him. But as soon as he found his footing, he wrapped his strong arms around me and held me close. I relaxed in Peters embrace.

“I had a nightmare.” I repeated. “You died and I couldn’t save you.” I’d be dead if something happened to you. Never let me go. I need you. I felt like a little kid being comforted but their mother. Not that I knew what that felt like.

“I know. It’s okay. You’re awake now. I’m here.” Peter said soothingly. I’ve been here the whole time. I will never abandon you. You are safe in my arms. Nothing can hurt you now. I won’t let it. His voice was muffled from being buried in my hair. I pulled back slightly to look at him, still holding on tightly.

“Stay with me?” I asked. Never leave. I didn’t want him to go. Not now, not ever.

“Always.” Peter answered surly. As if I could ever leave you. My lips lit up in a smile and my eyes fell to his lips. They lingered there for too long, or maybe just long enough. Peter took the hint and slipped his hand behind my neck and began to pull me closer. As our lips were about to touch, my door slammed, causing us to jump out of each other’s embrace.

“Shit balls.” I said immediately.

“What?” Peter asked, giggling a little at my choice of profanity.

“I just locked myself out.” I sighed. Peter laughed louder this time.

“Come on. You’re sleeping over.” He said, leading me back to his apartment with the hand on the small of my back.

I entered Peters room for the first time. Sure, we’d become good friends in the time I’ve lived in the building, but bedrooms were intimate places. They were windows into the soul. Oh wait, that’s eyes. Still, most of my hangouts with Peter occurred in his living room, my fire escape, or the rooftop. Our spot. I’d never been in his room before.

I looked around with a content smile on my face. He had an academic decathlon poster on his wall, along with a few Avengers posters. Peter was pretty neat, but he was still a teenage boy. Socks and sweaters were strewn across the room. I saw him kicking a pair of boxers under his desk out of the corner of my eye. His room was so cute. It was so…Peter. I noticed a first aid kit in his desk next to his chemistry textbook and wondered what on earth he could be using it for. I looked at him and smiled.

“I like your room.” I complimented. Peter smiled in relief.

“Oh thank God. I thought you’d take one look at my nerdy ambiance and run.” He admitted. I laughed and my eyes landed in his bed.

“Star Wars bedsheets?” I asked. Peters ears reddened and he fixed his duvet to cover them up.

“Those aren’t mine.” He said quickly.

“Are they Mays? As in May the force be with you?” I played along. He gave me a defeated smile.

“That was the worst thing anyone has ever said. Ever.” Peter said. I laughed and he gave me a shy smile.

“Fine. They’re my bedsheets. Star Wars is cool, okay?” Peter defended. I took a seat on his bed and shrugged.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me Peter. I just didn’t know you were a loser, is all.” I taunted. Peter sat down on the bed next to me and rolled his eyes.

“Very funny. You’re the funniest person I know.” He said sarcastically. I nudged him with my elbow and he and hit me with a Yoda printed pillow.

“Mm. Good with the force you are.” I commented. Peter groaned loudly and told me to shut up.

“Enough playing around. How was your date?” Peter asked. I could hear the pain in his voice. He seemed really upset tonight. I regretted ever telling him about the date. It was a dumb move. It wasn’t right of me to play with his feelings like that.

“Oh, you know. Terrible.” I said slowly. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy. If Peter really did like me and want to be with me, he needed to say it. He couldn’t just grumble and wallow in self pity when I was with another boy. I was testing him to see if he’d ever actually admit his feelings. But I was also protecting myself. A part of me was still scared there were no feelings to admit to.

Peters eyes lit up instantly.

“Really?” He said excitedly. He cleared his throat and grunted. “I mean, really?” He asked calmly. I bit my tongue and nodded. I gave him my best sad eyes.

“Yeah it was awful. I definitely won’t be seeing him again.” I sighed sadly. I wasn’t sad. I was putting on a show for Peter. Peter bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile from emerging.

“That’s terrible. What went wrong?” Peter asked. His acting was equally as bad as mine. He had a shit eating grin on his face. He was pretending to be sad for me but he was clearly over the moon.

“It was going fine all night until the kiss.” I sighed dramatically, looking longingly out the window. I might as well have thrown myself onto my balcony and cried out for Romeo. Peter was buying every second of it. I saw his eyes flash with hurt.

“You guys kissed?” He asked. His voice was heavy with disappointment. I looked at Peter sadly. He looked miserable. All I wanted to do was throw my arms around his neck and tell him he was the only one for me. Instead, I kept my feelings to myself and nodded slowly.

“Almost. He leaned in and-“ I just shrugged. I could tell Peter was on the edge of his seat. I dragged it as long as I could.

“And?” Peter asked, practically begging. I let out another long, dramatic sigh. Peter took a slow sip of his water bottle.

“And I threw up on him.” I said simply. Peter spat out the water in his mouth. He burst out laughing and did his best to cover it up. I gave him a fake angry look but ended up laughing as well.

“What?” Peter laughed.

“He was such a tool. He talked down to me the entire night and then had the audacity to try and kiss me. I don’t know what happened but all the sudden he was leaning in and I was throwing up. He deserved it though. He treated me like was an idiot. I’m almost glad I threw up on him.”

Peters was overjoyed. He was about to say something when we heard a straggled cry of my name.

Peter and I rushed to his peephole and saw a familiar blonde haired boy standing in the hallway.

There he was. Matt. Outside my apartment door with his phone on full volume playing “Hungry Eyes” from Dirty Dancing.

“What the actual hell?” I wondered out loud. “I better get rid of him.”

“Y/nnnnnn. I’m sorry I was a jerk. Please talk to me. I told the doorman we were cousins. Then I told the elevator guy that I was your husband. You may need to move now. Y/nnnn.” Matt drunkenly exclaimed. I covered my mouth with my hand to conceal my laughter.

“You definitely can’t go out there. He could have a knife.” Peter said. I gave him a look. Yea, the guy was dumb. But he wasn’t dangerous.

“Or worse.” I said. Peter looked at me fearfully.

“He could have the same loser bedsheets you do.” I gasped. Peter picked up me swiftly and threw me in the couch. I laughed in shock.

“Since when are you so strong?” I asked. Peter shrugged and held out a hand.

“Let’s go to bed.” Peter said. I raised an eyebrow and he quickly added, “In a non-sexual, platonic way.” I laughed at his stupidity. He was so cautious of offending me or making me uncomfortable. I appreciated how much of a gentleman he was. I knew Aunt May had implemented those qualities in him.

“You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. Let me know if you need anything.” Peter said as he made the bed for me. I climbed in and patted the space next to me.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Get in.” I said.

Peter looked at me with wide eyes. He looked very unsure of himself and I could see the panic behind his eyes.

He was torn. He wanted to get into the bed, but he also knew you were vulnerable right now and he didn’t want to take advantage of you. He didn’t want to do anything you’d end up regretting in the morning.

“Get in, in a non-sexual, platonic way.” I added. Peter relaxed but stayed standing. I pretended to splash Peter and twirled my hand around the bedsheets as if they were water.

“Come on in Parker. The waters warm.” I said in a low voice. Peter shuddered.

“I am…repulsed.” Peter answered. In reality, he was dying to get in the bed. He wasn’t gonna try anything, he just wanted to feel you close. He wanted to comfort you and take the pain of the night away. Finally, he got into the bed and pulled the covers up. He shut off his lamp and we fell into comfortable silence.

“Good night, Peter.” I love you. I whispered, turning my back to him and cuddling into his pillow.

“Night, Y/n.” I love you. He whispered back. I felt his eyes on the back of my neck still. He didn’t want to close them and fall asleep. He wanted to stay in this moment as long as he could.

I soon felt hesitant arms wrap around my waist. Peter was very unsure of himself and kept his hands loosely on my hips. We were barely touching. I turned my neck around and looked at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded. His hands flew off my waist and his eyes widened with fear. He looked so apologetic, I thought he might cry.

“Do you not know how to cuddle?” I asked before he could blurt out an apology. I grabbed his arms and pulled them tightly around my waist. I held his hands in my own and held them flush against my chest. Peter felt really tense at first and a bit stiff, but he soon relaxed and nestled into my hair.

“You smell really good.” He muttered. I laughed softly against his body. Peter held me even tighter.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Y/N.” He whispered. He said it so quietly, I figured he thought I had fallen asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

I woke up the next morning in Peter Parker’s arms. Subsequently, I wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of my life in Peter Parker’s arms. We were a mess of tangled limbs and hair. But I found myself firmly in his embrace, inhaling his cologne.

Peters eyes fluttered open and we were nose to nose.

“Hi.” I said. A playful smile rested on my lips. He was so pretty in the morning. He didn’t even have to try.

“Hey.” He chuckled. “This is new.” He added. I nodded.

“It is new. Is it okay?” I asked him. I didn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

“Is waking up next to the actual sun okay? Uh yea, Y/n. It’s okay. You can sleep over anytime you like if it means more mornings like this.” He said. Of course he said that. He held all my strings and knew just how to tug them.

I smiled happily at Peter. He gave me a sleepy smile in return.

“Did you really not enjoy that date?” He whispered. Do you want to be with anyone else? I didn’t know why he was whispering. But the look in his eyes told me he was dead serious.

“Not in the slightest.” I answered honestly. Because it wasn’t with you. He looked me firmly in the eyes. I gave him a vague nod.

“Would you…would you want to go out with me sometime? I promise I won’t throw up on you.” He offered. He said the second part as if it was the only way I’d say yes to the date.

“Peter Parker I have waited exactly 64 days for you to ask me that question and you just had to ruin it by promising you won’t throw up on me?” I playfully scolded. Peters eyes lit up

“Is that a yes?” He asked excitedly.

“It’s a yes. It’s always been a yes.”

“Can I-“ he began.

“Don’t ask. Just do it.”

Peter leaned in slowly and I did the same. His lips had just ghosted mine when Aunt May knocked on the door. He bolted out of bed and I sat up.

“Breakfast is ready. Did you clean your room?” Aunt May called from the other side of the door.

“Yes.” Peter called back. I looked around. No he didn’t

“No you didn’t.” She said knowingly. She didn’t even have to see his room to know it wasn’t clean.

“I’ll clean it after.” He groaned.

“I’m coming in.” She said suddenly. Peter and I looked at each other in fear.

“Don’t! I’m naked.” He screamed.

“Fine. But it better be clean after breakfast. And put some clothes in. You should not be naked at 7 am.” Aunt May said. We waited to speak until we heard her footsteps walking away.

I got out of Peters bed as he got up to lock the door.

“Alright. That should buy us some ti-“

The second he turned around, he was met with my lips on his. I had my hands on the sides of his face and my head tilted to the left. I felt Peters eyes flutter shut as his eyelashes tickled my cheeks. He was frozen at first, but slowly wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. I melted into him and he melted right back into me. The kiss was short and sweet, but absolutely perfect.

I pulled away and Peter gave me the softest eyes ever. A grateful smile was on his lips.

“I am so over these interrupted moments.” I breathed. Peters eyes twinkled. The sun was coming through the window and made his brown eyes look like pots of honey. I could stare at them forever.

And then he kissed me again, with confidence this time. He wasn’t ready for the last one since I caught him off guard. I let my fingers tangle in the messy curls at the back of his neck, something I thought I’d only get to dream of doing. Peter groaned slightly into my mouth as I tugged on his hair. He put his hand under my neck and slipped his toungue in my mouth. Who knew Peter Parker knew how to kiss? He tasted like morning breath, speremint chapstick, and something I could only identify as being exclusively Peter. We pulled apart and he looked up at the sky.

“If I wake up and this is all a dream I’m going to fight you.” He said menacingly.

“Did you just threaten God?” I laughed.

“For you? Anthing. I’ll fight anyone for your honor. Jesus Christ can square up.” He promised.

“You’ve gone to far. We need to break up.” I kidded.

“Don’t even joke. I’ve waited too long for this.” Peter said as he wrapped his arms around me.

“I’m only teasing. I’ve waited my whole life for you Parker. I’m never letting you go.” I told him. He burst out in a smile and kissed me swiftly. Then he promptly got down on one knee.

“Will you please be mine, darling? Officially?” He pleaded softly. There was so much hope in his eyes. I pretended to think about it.

“Nah. I’m pretty busy with Matt.” I said. Peter stood up and gripped my hips, pulling me closer. I let out a small gasp.

“I never want to hear his name again. He had the privilege of taking my girl on a date and treated her poorly? He’s a deadman if I ever see him around here. Now, I need you to tell me you’re my girlfriend before my heart explodes. Tell me you’re mine. I won’t believe it until you say it. ” Peter begged. It wasn’t in a demanding, manipulative tone. All of his words were words of love. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his lips.

“Peter Parker, I always have, and always will be, yours.”

Tag List 🏷

@monimiin @truthdaze @honeyccoated @constellationswithapurpose @condy-wants-a-cookie @zipp0flare @vxidnik @maddie-laufeyson @bubblegumholland @the-blindwatcher @pmvelez97 @babymadz @sincereleygmg

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tingleparker · 5 years

Text

All too well

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes, actually. Thank you Sunny nonnie & another nonnie, love you <33

•Warnings: Angst. I advise tissues

•Summary: Peter just wanted to protect you, and you owe your career to him. You're coming back to Queens for a concert, whatever could go wrong?

•Word count: 5.7k (wowzers v long sorry)

A/n: Listen to All too well -> HERE. Lyrics are in this though :))

Sorry, it was such a long wait for this, but think of it as a little Easter treat (thank you nonnie with this idea). Hopefully, it's worth the wait <33

Peter didn't sign up for this, he didn't sign up for all the villains he would be facing. He didn’t realise how much troubling everything would get, he didn’t realise that people got worse and everything became ten times harder. Sure, when he was back in school, it was hard to balance between Spiderman and schoolwork. But now? Everything was advancing. That would be good for the world when that sort of technology and power didn’t land in the wrong people’s hands. Yes, he had the Avengers team to back him up but Peter will always be that Spider-Man hero swinging around Queens. But why is he realising now? Well, the near death of a loved one may help with realisation.

Y/n Y/l/n, Peter Parker's girlfriend and also You. You had met Peter back in your last year in Midtown, only finding out about him when you became friends with Michelle Jones. You weren't close to Peter back in high school, just knew each other ‘round school grounds. But after graduating and moving on from high school you continued to stay in touch with MJ. From MJ, the pair of you hung out frequently; trying to suppress the stress from college. With MJ came with the package deal of Ned Leeds and Peter Parker. The four of you becoming a tight friendship group. The three of them became your favourite people, but one in particular became something much more. Peter Parker to you was the epitome of adorable, charming and attractive. You couldn't even make up words to comprehend how much you fell for this boy. You beat yourself up for not realising this back in high school but you couldn't turn back time now. But you were glad, you still ended up with the boy who had captured your attention.

Just before the start of your last year in college began, Peter and you started talking more frequently. It was so much that you thought you spoke and texted him more than Michelle. And finally on new years eve, at Ned’s party; You shared the most spark-filled kiss with Peter, under all the dazzling fireworks that lit up the stunning night sky that new years.

Now approaching the end of your college life, the friendship group began crumbling as well as your relationship with your boyfriend, Peter. With all your schedules filled up with studying and schoolwork, you didn't see those three faces you adored to no end anymore. Furthermore, Peter being the infamous Spiderman of Queens didn't help him have any free time either. Of Course, you knew about this alter ego of his, after being together for almost one year now; Peter couldn't hold the secret anymore. You didn't mind him being out saving lives, you thought that made him even more attractive in your eyes but you were constantly worried about his health. You didn't think about your own health, until that fateful night.

Walking home from the library after a late night session of studying, may have been a bad idea. The chilly breeze brushed past you, hairs sticking up from the coldness. You shiver involuntarily, the street bare and dark. A constant feeling of uneasiness and fear creeping its way through you, your mind silently calling out to Peter; knowing that he was on patrol this night. It was a long shot because you knew how many people actually needed saving around town, while you were just walking back home without anything drastically wrong. You trudged on, only a few more streets over and you’ll be in the safety of your own home; imagining the soft sheets of your bed. The street lights illuminated the path in front of you, your head held low as your back started to ache from the backpack you carried for your books. Okay, you got this. You hyped yourself up; your mind seeming to play tricks on you; hearing quiet noises from the darkness. Your worst nightmare lagging behind you, quiet footsteps heard from behind. Maybe you were just overthinking, It may have been someone who was just walking the same path, on the same night and the same street. Deep down, your gut feeling was to make a dash but what happens if it were just a normal person. You slowly pick up your pace out of instinct, wanting to get out of these drabby streets as quick as possible. The worst case possible happened, the footsteps followed your speed, slowly catching up; informing you that they were in fact following you. Your breathing had gotten heavier and your heart rate jumping up to a fast momentum. Your feet sped up, even more, your walking had turned into almost jogging now. The figure behind you catching up at an alarming rate. All of a sudden your back was pushed against the brick wall of the side of the random building you were next to. Before you could even let out a squeak, a rough hand covered your mouth; muffling any screams that fell from your lips. You struggle against this person, who you presumed to be a man from the figure; but it was quite dark. You kicked your legs, twisting and turning; trying your hardest to get out of this tight grip but it did not budge your captor. Now you were really praying for Peter to come swing by at this moment. You were so scared, your eyes becoming glazed over as you tried your best not to let a tear fall and let whoever this was your real feelings.

“You listen here” The deep, hoarse voice instructed.

Your thoughts swarmed your mind, trying to predict what his next words were going to be. Was he going to ask for money? What else did you have to offer?

“You're going to tell me where your little dweeb of a boyfriend is, and not say a word to anyone.”

Those orders surprised you, you had never thought that your relationship with the small hero would put you into danger. You hadn't realised that anyone would pay attention to your relationship, now what do you do in this situation?

“W-what?” You stutter out, nervous as hell but confused how to get out of this predicament.

Suddenly you see a glint of silver reflecting from the moonlight, a blade being held over the skin of your neck. Your breath hitched, one wrong move and you could be lying on the ground all bloody and lifeless.

“You’re going to pull out your phone and call over your little Spiderboy here. Or else it ain't going to end pretty for you.” The man instructed, putting a tiny bit more pressure onto the blade nipping at your skin; pain coursing through your neck as it drew a minor amount of blood.

Your hand slowly reached down to grab your phone from your pocket, hand brushing against the screen-

A web comes whizzing through the air and restricting the man's hand that was holding you.

“It’s actually Spider-man, not Spiderboy” Your boyfriend's voice called over the dark street, a sigh of relief left your lips.

The man startled and distracted by the entrance of the hero, you took this as your chance. You kicked the criminal, making him stumble back as you pushed yourself off the wall and ran over to where your hero stood; a few meters away from the hunched over man. Peter took this as a cue to sling him up onto the brick wall you had just been up against. Once Peter knew that he was restrained properly with no chance to escape, his arms wrapped around you. You clutched onto him for dear life that night, thinking he would disappear if you let go.

Peter ran his hands through his hair out of nervousness and anger. His mind and thoughts are killing him, he is torn. God, he loves you with all his heart and maybe that's why he is about to do what he thought is going to be the right thing. He knew that it would tear both of your hearts apart but he also knew that it would be good for you in the future. He couldn't have to save you from people who were targeting him. He could let himself put you into danger, the pain in his chest already there and he hadn't even talked to you yet. Taking a deep breath, Peter pushes the cafe door open. The aroma of coffee instantly hitting him in the face, a cozy feeling also washing over him but nothing could make him feel better right now. HIs eyes set onto the prettiest face he’s ever seen, walking towards his girlfriend.

“Hey! Sorry, I was impatient and ordered already.” You say cheerfully, it is your first time seeing Peter in a while and you are just glad, he's here now.

All Peter gave you was a small smile, sitting down in front of you. Your eyebrow furrow in confusion as he didn't seem right, you lean forward to grab his hand but he brushed you off; a feeling of hurt at the rejection was evident in your face. Peter couldn't keep eye contact, not wanting to see the pain in your face; guilt already eating him up.

“What’s wrong Pete?” You ask, concern taking over as your mind runs through all the possibilities of what could have happened.

But all those possibilities didn't compare to the words that left Peters' lips.

“I think we should break up.”

The six words felt like a bullet going straight through your heart. Your breath stopped, your head is spinning, is this just dream? You hope it is but it is all too real, tears pricked at your eyes but you were still in public and you definitely didn't want to make a scene. You sit there in shock, not being able to even form words. Peter didn't even have the courage to look you in the eyes, you wanted to say something; maybe ask why but you were in so much pain and shock.

“I’m sorry Y/n.” The last words Peter could mutter out before standing up and walking out of the cafe, leaving behind his broken heart with you but also taking yours with him.

You sit there hoping no one in the quaint store would look in your direction and see a newly graduated woman crying all by herself. Honestly what a sad scene if you were anybody else but you were the girl sitting here crying. You wait a couple of minutes before getting up and leaving, wanting to make sure you wouldn't run into your now ex-boyfriend. You waddle your way home, a gloomy emotion surrounded you; like an invisible rain cloud constantly on you. Upon getting to your abode, you immediately rush to your bed; curling yourself up in the sheets. Tears falling freely now, sobs rake through your body. The aching pain ran through all your body, you didn't realise how much your heart had been with Peter until now.

The day passed on, you eventually fell asleep from the exhaustion of all the crying. The sun descended and the moon rose as the sky fell dark. You finally decided to get out of bed, only taking a few steps to your desk. Opening up your written filled book, the pages splashed with meaningful lyrics. Your dream was always to be some sort of musician, you loved writing and jotting down ideas for music. You had never told anyone; not even your family, though Peter had found out on accident.

“Babe, what's this?”

Your head turns to see your boyfriend holding your precious leather-bound book, a book that held all your desires. You rush over to Peter, snatching the important book out of his hands and hugging it into your chest. No one has ever looked at the pages in this notebook, not even letting your parent in on your real dreams. Expecting them to belittle you for wanting to become a singer was never a pathway in their books, so you kept all of this to yourself.

That night you had spilled all your aspirations to Peter, it felt good to get everything off your chest. Even though he had basically made you tell all of this, you wouldn't have thought of a better person to listen to you.

So you flick through the worn pages, to the next blank page. Though tears filled your eyes once more, some dripping onto the paper, words jumbled through your head and you knew you wanted to write it all down; so you did.

[Lyrics = bold italics | thoughts = normal]

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold,

But something 'bout it felt like home somehow and I

Left my scarf there at your sister's house,

And you still got it in your drawer even now.

The time you were with Peter felt like home, you were always comfortable with him. Your songs were never the truth 100%, on the off chance that one day you would eventually either sell it or sing it yourself but you were almost certain you wouldn't have a chance to do that.

Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze.

We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate.

The Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place,

And I can picture it after all these days.

And I know it's long gone,

And that magic's not here no more,

And I might be okay,

But I'm not fine at all.

You thought back to all the late night car drives with Peter, a small smile creeping up on your face. You remember the wind blowing your hair back as you yell out lyrics from the car window, Peter laughing at your antics. It was one of your favourite things to do with Pete, just having fun or deep conversations with each other driving around town.

Cause there we are again on that little town street.

You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over me.

Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well.

You sat outside the small brunch place, gusts of wind blew your hair in all directions as you waited for Peter to show up. You look around the street seeing groups of people pass by and cars zooming through the road in front of your view. Then you spotted your favourite tuff of brunette curls across the street. A goofy smile on his face as he waited for the crossing lights, once he spotted you looking his smile got even wider. Stupidly, Peter had heard the sound of the green crossing light from the other street and wanting to get to you as soon as possible; Peter began walking before immediately jumping back as a car whizzed passed him. A look of concern took over your face for a second before you burst out laughing as you watch your embarrassed boyfriend cross the street when it was finally clear to go.

Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red.

You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-size bed

And your mother's telling stories about you on a tee ball team

You tell me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me.

You had met Peters aunt May, the lovely lady almost instantly accepting you with open arms. You got to see where Peter grew up into this amazing man. You sat around the small dining table as May took a photo album off the counter, spilling all the secrets of Peters childhood out to you. Hours went by with giggles, laughs and reassuring an embarrassed Peter. The two of you cuddled into each other on Peters bed as May drew herself into her bedroom for the night. Though this day you saw all of Peters past, he promised you a future.

And I know it's long gone

And there was nothing else I could do

And I forget about you long enough

To forget why I needed to

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night.

We dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well, yeah.

Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much,

And maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up.

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well.

You had been studying all day, night had fallen and you decided it was a good idea to get some food. Partially startled but you smile brightly at the sight of your boyfriend shaking around to the quiet music that flowed through the kitchen. You didn't really question how and why he was here at this moment but you definitely wanted his company.

“What are you doing here?” You ask playfully, seeing his head whip around fast as light.

“Oh-uh Surprise?” You laugh at his attempt to save himself but walk to join him anyways.

You loved that night, goofing around and dancing in the dimly lit kitchen.

Hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise.

So casually cruel in the name of being honest.

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all too well.

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own

Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week

'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me

You can't get rid of it, 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah.

Your emotions poured out onto the page, you wished everything could go back to normal after this but you felt like you've lost a part of yourself. You knew you had left a scarf back at Peters place and you wondered if you would ever get it back. You didn't even know if you could handle seeing him again, or at least now right now. You hope that he feels the pain he had caused you, hoping he wouldn't forget you; but why would he even break up with you then?

Cause there we are again, when I loved you so

Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

You didn't even find out the reason why all this happened. Having no chance to ask him as he walked out of the cafe, crumbling your heart into pieces. You think back to it and you don't find a legitimate reason. You two never fought that much and if you two did then it was over in a couple of hours tops. Sure, these past few weeks there was no time for each other but you didn't think it would cause this much of a rift that Peter would think it was significant enough to break up over.

Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all

Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

Going back through all these memories, it all came to an end and so did your song. Teardrops fell upon the pages, leaving behind wet splotches on the paper. You read over the words written messily on the pages once more, before closing the book closed with a huff. You decide you need to finally trudge yourself out of your bedroom and make yourself some food. Whilst eating your sad meal, trying to eat your feelings away. You hum a tune trying to imagine the goods in life and your newly written song as a whole.

Waking up the next morning felt like hell, the empty feeling of where your heart was ripped out. You try to psych yourself up, you wanted to move on. You decided to be spontaneous today, put yourself out there more. You grabbed your lyric book and set up a camera; or more so your phone camera. Setting up your phone, so it could point at you; you grabbed your guitar from the corner of your room before setting yourself in front of the phone. Quickly wiping at your face, though the lighting and camera quality wasn't the best; you press record. Your fingers move on their own, a rhythm coming out unconsciously. You clear your throat before the words leave your lips, the way you want it. You put your all into it, the emotions flowing out as you sang. Before you knew it, the last words left your mouth. A deep sigh leaving your lips as it feels like a weight being lifted off your chest and shoulders. You reach out and end the recording, not really bothered to watch it back through. You had the most impromptu idea and your hands move before your mind could work properly. Clicking onto the youtube app, your fingers move onto uploading the recent video; you had just filmed. The video uploading, your heart rapidly beating; regret setting in the closer the video got to being uploaded. You decided to just lock your phone, the screen turning black as you set it on your desk. You try calming down, no-one was going to see it anyways. You push the thought and memory of it to the back of your mind as you resume your day.

You went to bed that day, forgetting what you had done that morning. It wasn't until you reached over to check the time when you wake up, you realise all the notifications coming through. Likes, dislikes, comments, subscribes; everything popped up, you were taken aback. You quickly unlocked your phone, the notices still blocking the top of your screen. Your video growing in popularity as it hits 100k views. You were so surprised, a smile growing on your face as you read through all the positive comments.

‘Omg, she's actually so good!’

“What is this song? It's AMAZING!’

‘HoLy ShIt! BrOkE tHe RePlaY bUtToN.’

Of Course, there was the hate but you looked past that. This dulled the pain of your broken heart. You resumed your day with a little ray of sunshine as more notifications came in, putting a smile on your lips each time. Emails then came in, record companies contacting you; shocking you.

Before you know it, you’re walking up on a big stage. Bright stage lights shone upon your figure as screams and cheers sounded around the arena. Tears glazed your eyes as the crowd sang your very own lyrics back to you, your body filled with warmth. This was all you could dream of and more.

“Thank you so much for having me, Brooklyn!” You announced the last bit of your show.

Screams and shouts are what you get as a reply and you were ecstatic with that. Walking off stage, you take a swig of water; your throat feeling relieved after performing. You were buzzing with adrenaline, even after performing around America; you still get a rush out of it each show. You were coming up to your last few shows; Brooklyn being your penultimate act. Your next stop is Queens, your home. You were excited and nervous at the same time; you haven't been back in months because of this tour and the familiar faces there scared you. Especially, your ex; Peter Parker. Your first and most popular song was written because of him, the memories coming back each show as you close out your setlist with the emotional ‘All too well’. You never fully got over Peter, of course the two of you grew up. You were out here performing songs and living out your dream, while Peter stayed back in Queens; playing hero and becoming an avenger. You had a day to prepare for the next show, travelling from Brooklyn to Queens in your teams RV has been uncomfortable but bearable when you got to do what you loved almost every night.

You wake up from the bunk as we arrive in Queens, the familiar roads taking you back. You finally arrive back at your place, to your own home; the one you left months ago. You trudge your luggage inside, the dark house illuminating as you happily take back in your home. You don't bother unpacking and crash out on your bed as soon as you could.

Waking up you see it was sunset, you decided to take a small stroll around the neighbourhood. You grab necessities before locking the front door behind you. You lived near a quiet and quaint area, knowing most people living in the houses you walk by. Few cars past and not too many individuals walk by. The sky getting darker by the minute, you're about 15 minutes away from home now. Deciding on quickly buying a little snack from the small store on the street, you start heading back. Whilst looking around, trying to get back before it gets pitch black; you hear a loud noise coming from the alleyway in front of you. Startled, your heart rate jumps as you come to a halt. You contemplate your choices; you could continue walking and it could have just been a raccoon, you could walk forward and potentially get stabbed to death or robbed or you could just not walk forward. There was no other sound coming from the dark alley, so you tried to convince yourself it was just some rodent. You continue on your way, curiosity getting the better out of you as you peer around to see what had caused such a heavy sound. A cluster of red and blue entangled the dirty metal on the ground. Your eyes trail up to see the friendly spiderman holding his mouth shut.

“P-Peter?” You call out to the hero whose eyes widened at the sound of your voice.

“Y-Y/n! Funny seeing you here!” Peter exclaims before jumping up, making more of a ruckus as the metal clangs onto the concrete.

“Yeah, I'm back for my last show.” You explain as he now stands in front of you.

Emotions came rushing back through, Peters hands going up to peel off his mask; revealing the face you once loved and maybe deep down still love.

“What if someone sees you?” You ask, looking around the streets seeing if anyone else was present.

“I-its okay. It’ll be fine.” Peter responds, the two of you staring intensely at each other; trying to work out what to do and say next.

“I’m sorry.” The pain in his voice evident, making your chest clench.

“I just want to know...why?” You ask, eyeing the ground now as the conversation turned; Peter sighing and taking a deep breath ready to explain everything.

“That one night, the one where you got basically assaulted. It turned gears in my head. You were getting hurt because of me, if I hadn't been there at that time; what would he have done to you? God, I love you way too much to let me get you hurt. So I came up with the idea of letting you go, If I did people wouldn't go for you to get to me. I wish I could go back in time and take it all back but I'm actually glad that you've been living your dream out there.” Peter spews out, heart beating loud in his own ears as he awaited your response.

You stood there, dumbfounded. His reasoning made you sad, happy and angry all at the same time. But you understood, understood why he made the choice. Without a second thought, you step forward; wrapping your arms around his figure. Though shocked, the hero also wraps his arms around you tightly.

“It feels so good to have you back.” You whisper, squeezing his body, his suit material feeling funny against your skin.

“We should do this again sometime.” Peter suggests, snuggling into the crook of your neck; making a smile light your face.

“What? Stand out in the dark hugging?” You joke, giggling as you pull away but still being closer than beforehand; the man giving you a straight face before laughing a tad.

“I mean, hang out sometime.” He explains, eye rolling, making you smile even more.

“Hey, I have a show tomorrow. Why don't you come?” You ask with a smile, maybe there's something still there.

“Hmmm, I don't know. Swinging around and getting shot at every night seems more fun.” Peter jokes, earning a playful glare from you.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask emphasising the question more, feeling refreshed after this conversation.

“Of Course love” Peter answers, the nickname slipping off his tongue at ease but placing a rush of pink on his cheeks.

“I’ll see you Peter” Before reaching up and planting a kiss on his cheek; reddening his blush even more.

“I-uh. Y-yep. S-see you” His voice cracking from the embarrassment, pulling his mask back over his face and shooting a web up on the roof of a building; swinging away in the darkness.

A permanent smile graced your face the entire night, as you finally reach your home. You were so excited for tomorrow's concert, you wanted to make it the best you've ever done; because it was the last and because Peter would be there.

Throughout the show, your eyes wander to meet Peters, a smile forming on your lips as you see him dancing around to your music. Finishing off your second last song, you take a deep breath. You smile as the cheers die down; giving you time to speak.

“So for the last song for today!” You say, getting a bunch of disappointed ‘awws’ from the crowd; making your smile even harder.

“I know, I know” You laugh, looking around the stadium; bright phone lights shone as you look around the crowd.

“This is my last show for this tour, and I'm back in Queens for it.” You continue, heart filled with warmth.

“Before starting the final song, I want to dedicate it to someone special.” The screams getting louder as you laugh; your eyes trailing back to a smiling Peter.

“This song is close to my heart, it was my first ever song that I uploaded and it was something that has brought me here in front of you all.” You thought back to that day, spent crying over your pages and writing this song; the arena quiet as the attention was all on you.

“This song was inspired by someone, someone special who is actually here right now.” You stare up at Peter who stood up in the balcony seats.

“I’m so glad you're back in my life Peter. This one's for you.” You smile as the cheering came back, you take deep breaths as you ready yourself for the last song.

Peter couldn't wipe the smile off his face, he felt the passion exploding off the stadium walls. He is so proud of you, he knew this is your dream and you have achieved it. He swayed to the song, looking around at the crowd that is absorbed into your voice. Of Course, he heard this song when it first blew up and he knew he was the subject; the hurt he had caused you made him wince just thinking back to it. But also last night's conversation running through his head made him push all the bad memories from the past back and open a new page for the future memories he wants with you. The hero makes eye contact with you on the stage, the song coming to an end soon; the last verse coming up.

“I’m so proud of you” Peter mouths, as he sees your face light up.

Peter returns the bright smile, you've both come so far and he couldn't be any happier-

A loud bang came booming around the arena. Peters ears ringing as the room goes completely silent, everyone hearing a thud as a body fell. Screams and shouts left peoples lips as the crowd began pushing and bumping into everyone else who tried to escape the stadium. Snapping back to his senses, Peter rushed down from the balcony to the stage; pushing through the mass of people that surrounded you. Kneeling, he brings you up to lay on his lap; blood covering his clothes in an instant but he didn't care.

“P-please. I only just got you back” The hero begs, to any bigger being out there; he begs that it would be alright.

Looking down at the gunshot wound in the middle of your chest, he felt all different types of emotions. He completely forgot to check for the culprit but he knows that he would be getting revenge for this, but he’ll let the security and police do the work for now, he needed to be here, with you.

“I-I love you” You admit, you want him to hear the feelings you've had all this time has never changed.

“I love you too. Please don't.” Peter cries as he pulls you in tighter but careful not to move you that much to cause any pain.

You began continuing the rest of your song, skin paling and breath slowing down. “W-wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all-” Your voice chokes out, limbs softening as your breathing fades away.

Peter let out a loud sob, clutching at your lifeless body as he begs for you to just come back. The ache in his body unbearable as his cries and pleads bounce around the empty arena.

“Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all.

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well” Peter sings out, voice stumbling over words.

And although Peter had ended your last song, you had ended his heart on the spot.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #spiderman imagine #tom holland imagines #peter parker #tom holland imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

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Janis & Jimmy

Janis: Don't get excited or anything Janis: only talking to you to look busy Jimmy: steal my job an' all or just my lines? Jimmy: so proud me Janis: technically I got you fired from that one Janis: and not to get ahead in the java game myself so Jimmy: fucked my future as a recruiter that Jimmy: tah very much Janis: 💔 Janis: what can I say? Janis: your chat has left a lot to be desired from the start Janis: though I'd happily pick up a CG shift now, nothing to do with your skillz or lack thereof Jimmy: You could've started this one with 'oi Jim don't put persuasive on the CV' and have done, mate but here we still are pissing about Jimmy: 🎻🎻 Jimmy: use your head and pick up a shift where Pete works now not where he burned his bridges if you want the good chat, girl Janis: Yeah 'cos you want me interrupting your bromance time more than I already do Janis: reverse psychology won't work on me either, boy Jimmy: Tell it to the lad who's rewriting a birthday classic in your honor 'cause that ain't me, babe Jimmy: Still got it bad after all this time he has 💘 Jimmy: #thejulieteffect Janis: God, Gracie didn't slip him an invite as a tip, did she Janis: will have to maim my face to avoid any further association with her, like Jimmy: Might've Jimmy: Much as we throw Shona on that Gracie sized bullet she's nowt but persistent Janis: Desperate is the word Janis: invite half the town, why not Janis: no girl needs that many 'idk you really so I got you a bath set' gifts Jimmy: Alright, alright I'll take yours back to the shop Jimmy: Calm down Janis: bung it her way Janis: still might get some 'gratitude' 🤞 Jimmy: 👌 Janis: cool so it's a plan Janis: you distract, I'll make myself scarce Jimmy: challenge accepted Janis: it's not known to be challenging Janis: but we have just discussed your shortcomings too so yeah Janis: maybe baby Jimmy: having her about when I ain't being paid is proper challenging Jimmy: you wanna sweeten the deal, rich girl Janis: Hmm, what you got in mind? Jimmy: we both make ourselves scarce Jimmy: I reckon that's a better plan Janis: maybe ain't earned persuasive still but Janis: you can tick off problem solver Jimmy: 👍 Jimmy: ain't gonna be a problem if have the dickheads in town have an invite to your gaff Jimmy: slip away easy through that #opendoor Jimmy: half* Janis: you forget I'm 1 outta 2 guests of honour Janis: sadly, you are the only one on that score Jimmy: Nah Jimmy: nobody but Pete's coming for you, babe and we can slip him a note ahead of time Janis: You really know how to make a girl feel special, huh 😏 Jimmy: 💕 Janis: is it worth me coming to you Janis: how long you got left on Jimmy: both feeling special now Jimmy: how #goals Janis: well you know Janis: hit up the CG already and the replacements aren't much Jimmy: 💔 for 'em and you Janis: don't look too 😢 for me when I show Janis: not #goals Jimmy: Drying my eyes on my apron as we speak, like Janis: need your 😎 Jimmy: that's alright til the fans wanna see my 😍 Janis: who are you kidding, Doris can't see in front of her face Janis: it's the accent Jimmy: she can see my 🍆 Jimmy: keeps her coming back Janis: please don't make me laugh Jimmy: sexual harassment is no laughing matter, dickhead Jimmy: she's a menace 👵🚫 Janis: you know you're asking for it, babe Janis: made your granny love no secret Jimmy: when I'm not 😢 over you I'm 🤤 over her Jimmy: busted Janis: can't fool me Janis: know what you're like far too well tbh Jimmy: see right through me you Jimmy: only gonna get more of a bighead the older you get, aren't you? Janis: don't plan on changing Janis: not that kind of birthday girl Jimmy: 👍 Janis: dunno why she's bothering Janis: 'less she can get Pete to fake marry her she ain't even competing Jimmy: shut up, he'd get a decent amount of song writing material outta that Jimmy: enough to consider it Jimmy: don't be giving ideas like that out for nowt Janis: so you're saying recruiters out for you but pimp/band manager is my calling Janis: cheers, keep it in mind Jimmy: can't be living off mummy and daddy forever, babe Jimmy: time's running out Janis: they're running out of kids who wanna be around them, more like Janis: you know they don't wanna be left just them and Gracie Jimmy: Give 'em the heads up and they'll have time to have a load more Janis: 💀💀💀 Jimmy: 💸💸💸 Janis: if they do, not me Janis: and all the others Janis: splitting it 10 ways makes it less impressive Jimmy: actually 💔 Janis: I know Janis: babysitting is your primary gig Janis: soz, like Jimmy: 🎻🎻 Janis: Poor, poor boy Janis: have to stick with your two Jimmy: You still ain't taken the 🐶 off me yet so it's 3 Janis: if you put 'dog dad' in your bio it's over Jimmy: saved that 💎 for the dating apps Janis: fairplay Janis: go over well with that crowd Jimmy: 🐶💕 Jimmy: gotta earn her keep somehow Janis: subtle Janis: what do you want, like Jimmy: other than 🐶💀 Janis: you love her, shut up Jimmy: bollocks Jimmy: you love her Janis: I know what I've 👀 Janis: and I've got plenty of blackmail evidence for when this all goes tits Jimmy: I know how to fake it Jimmy: tah for all the practise Janis: mhmm, 'cos you did such a top job at that Jimmy: 🥇 me Janis: Sure thing babe Janis: best bae ever Janis: fake enough for you? Jimmy: might be if you didn't mean every word Janis: Idiot Jimmy: you love me Jimmy: and you're on your way here, deny it Janis: I can't deny I'm en-route Janis: but that's like 96% because I need to hide Janis: no funny business Jimmy: I get it Jimmy: only thirsty for a fruit juice Janis: I ain't a toddler Janis: and obviously, I ain't looking for you to serve me either 🤷 Jimmy: you ain't a coffee drinker and we don't serve booze, pisshead Janis: 1. I'm gonna subtly wait for Pete to be free 2. we'll think of something Jimmy: 1. enjoy helping him close 2. he won't be thinking of owt when he's this hungover so enjoy doing that yourself an' all Janis: 🙄🙄 Janis: not entirely sure you barista boys are worth the hassle Jimmy: on you go then Jimmy: find a barman and solve all your problems Janis: no tah Janis: can't be going there Jimmy: 🎻💔🎻 Janis: it'd be like you cracking on with a miner Janis: assume your granddad was a miner Jimmy: be like me having a go on a 👻 Janis: can make that happen Janis: that kinda cool girlfriend, obvs Jimmy: 😍😍😍 Janis: find out the equipment Janis: not talking 🍆🤖s Jimmy: so I'll meet you in the cemetery or what? Jimmy: #datenight Janis: Such an emo Janis: called it and you out from day one Jimmy: Piss off Jimmy: You reckoned I wanted to suck Alex Turner's ballsack Jimmy: Indie and emo are different genres, mate Janis: It's all fringes and marding really, isn't it, mate Janis: point is, ghosts are everywhere Janis: have as much if not more luck in any house in this shithole of a town Jimmy: proper poetic you Jimmy: I smell a lyrical collab with your bf Janis: nah Janis: we both know muse is about as good as I got Jimmy: but there's no need to pass that along to Pete and have him 💔 Janis: Shut up Janis: he loves me just the way I am, and YOU'RE just jealous Jimmy: #duh Janis: if I wanted that kind of guilt-trip, I'd have stayed there Jimmy: The orchestra is raring to go here Jimmy: What more do you want? Janis: you Janis: dickhead Jimmy: I'm yours, dickhead Janis: Good Janis: I need you, like Jimmy: We don't need to be here, either of us Janis: I can't Janis: I can't be anywhere near that fucking party tomorrow Janis: it's not just because it's the usual bullshit family function either, like Janis: just Janis: nah Jimmy: Alright Jimmy: good thing I have a better idea Janis: Yeah? Jimmy: Nowt for you to do but come with me Janis: Alright Janis: obviously Janis: never gonna have better plans or better company 'round here so Jimmy: 🥇 Jimmy: come here and we'll go from there Janis: I am Janis: I'd almost forgot how long this bus took Janis: been that long, like Jimmy: you should be live tweeting Jimmy: fans love a throwback Janis: well, we both know what I should really be doing Janis: but ain't really feeling it and this bus driver is new Jimmy: 🤞 our top bloke ain't 💀💀💀 Jimmy: weren't meant to be part of the pact, like Janis: if he was on the outs, I'd have 💀 him at the wheel ages ago Janis: just that good Janis: call me the eternal optimist Jimmy: 🌹 by any other name Janis: peak romance always Jimmy: 💪🏆 Jimmy: you ain't seen nowt yet birthday girl Janis: Idiot Jimmy: 💕 Janis: do I need to bring anything Janis: not fishing for clues or nowt but could be relevant Jimmy: bring whatever you would to fuck off for a day Jimmy: we ain't coming back til its over Janis: okay Janis: just us? Jimmy: you can bring the dog if you want Janis: 😏 Jimmy: I draw the line at Pete's puppy dog eyes though Janis: 💔 Jimmy: You'll live and he's half 💀 so there ain't no challenge in smacking him down Janis: Hot Jimmy: 😏 Janis: is that my surprise? Jimmy: Do you want that to be your surprise? Janis: Yeah, I'm gonna be an accessory by admission Janis: think on, babe Jimmy: 👍 Janis: Your man of mystery bit is very unhelpful sometimes Jimmy: poor baby Jimmy: soz you can't handle being kept on your toes Janis: oh please Jimmy: What? Janis: I could run circles around you in my sleep Jimmy: go on then Janis: maybe Janis: if the plans allow time Jimmy: maybe I'll make time if it's that important to you to prove yourself, Juliet Janis: I know I don't need to prove myself to you Jimmy: 👌 Janis: fuck off Janis: you love me Jimmy: You're alright, for a rich girl Janis: I'm the best Jimmy: 🥇 or nowt babe Janis: #duh Jimmy: #youknowthedrill Janis: town is finally in sight Janis: jesus Jimmy: the new driver ain't winning me over 💔 for him Jimmy: sort it out knobhead Jimmy: 🎅 will get there before his bus, like Janis: N'awh Janis: you missed me? Jimmy: for a sec or two Jimmy: not owt to get a big head over Janis: have to work on that then, won't I Jimmy: hate for you to be bored while you're waiting for Pete to make you a drink Jimmy: gotta give you something to do Jimmy: it'll take him ages longer than two secs Janis: weird brag, mate Janis: usually the other way 'round but admire the honesty 😂 Jimmy: been a bit since I've made shit weird Jimmy: nice to know you've missed it Janis: you know Janis: keeps things interesting, you do Jimmy: Yeah Jimmy: part of the deal, like Janis: I'll renew your contract Janis: 👌 job Jimmy: tah Jimmy: might take you off the trial period for a bit Jimmy: see how you go Janis: 😏 Janis: might not hand in my notice Jimmy: won't have to get a replacement in then Janis: 💔 Janis: know how you love that Jimmy: 🎻🎻 Jimmy: keep disappointing me, you Janis: psh Jimmy: It's alright, well used to it, me Jimmy: nowt I can't handle Janis: We'll put that theory to the test when I get there Janis: 5 mins Jimmy: good Janis: thanks Janis: by the way Jimmy: you ain't opened your bath shit yet Jimmy: leave it out Janis: I've got to work on my so real surprise/grattitude some time, babe Janis: want me to fake it when I'm there Janis: alright Jimmy: that top job you reckoned I did faking it goes double for you, girl Jimmy: I ain't helping Pete close so you've got more time to piss about having a go Janis: Not how I remember it, boy Jimmy: scroll back through all your feeds Jimmy: I'll hang on Janis: admitting you're more #basic Janis: cute Jimmy: surprise! 🎉 Jimmy: happy birthday Janis: 😍😋 Jimmy: 💘 Janis: love you Jimmy: I love you Janis: I really do Jimmy: Is it my turn to act surprised or what? Janis: You can Jimmy: #kinkunlocked Jimmy: ages after I thought we'd run out Janis: just that good, baby Jimmy: I'll give you a few minutes Jimmy: deffo worth that Janis: and so generous Janis: 😩 Jimmy: too northern for that shit Janis: Nah Janis: this place has changed you Janis: 🍀💀 Jimmy: If owt's changed take your share of the blame Jimmy: 💕🔪💀 Janis: alright Janis: I ruined your life Janis: do something about it

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primal-screamer-blog1 · 5 years

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#motley crue #the dirt #nikki sixx #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #motley crue fan fiction #motleycruefanfiction #douglas booth #tommy lee #mick mars #vince neil #colson baker #mgk #machine gun kelly #iwan rheon #daniel webber #80s #80s metal

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ain-t-bovvered · 6 years

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Bumpy road to Love 3

EDITED by @waywardbaby

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Genre: 40s-50s Au. Singer Reader x veteran WWII Dean.

Warnings: none for this chapter

Disclaimer: the story takes place in the first year of WWII to the years right after, but I love the style and fashion of the 50s so some of the visuals and lifestyle will be not super accurate, especially during the flashbacks.

Summary: Many lives were ruined by the war, yours was not exception. You had money, before, stern but loving parents,a big house,and a secret love, all of that lost, burned down. Now you earn yourself just enough money to get by, using the only thing the war couldn’t take, your voice. One foggy night, in the smoky and dark speakeasy where you worked, your imagination plays tricks on you and behind the smoke and whiskey glass , a pair of green eyes seem to read into your soul. A pair of green eyes that you thought you’ll never see again.

I wrapped myself in my black fur shawl, the temperature in the club still low as the doors are open to let the smoke of the previous night out. Well that’s just stupid, I thought to myself annoyed and repressed a shiver sitting on the bar stool.

“I see you are not in a good mood today either, doll” Benny said as he was scrubbing the countertop with a towel and daring a smile to my direction.

“Shut up, Benny!” I scoffed picking at the peanuts on the counter “It’s cold as hell and I don’t understand the need to air the place. This evening will be thick with smoke again”I mumbled, raising a salt coated finger to my mouth and licking it, careful not to smudge the just lipstick coated lips.

“Well, I like to breath actual air sometimes” he said closing the shaker. I watched him, bored, my hand cradling my head.

“ Are we expecting many tonight?” I said raising my voice above the shaking noise.

“Yeah, tonight we’ll be full. You better get ready for some upbeat dance sets” he said pouring the shaker’s contents into your martini glass.

“..Oh ...wow, great!” I can taste the sarcasm in my words. I reached behind the counter to grab a handful of olives and Benny’s eyes fell on my wrist.

Damn it

“If that’s a new watch, you’ve been robbed” he said grabbing my wrist and eyeing the watch, “it’s stopped...and the style is a bit...” he eyed me suspiciously, “...is this a man’s watch?” he asked, squinting his eyes as he was trying to get top secret information out of you.

“...I liked the style, and I know it stopped. I’ll take it to the shop this week” I lied, “...and Benny, I know the craving is strong but try not to steal it!!” I grinned.

Benny brought my hand up to kiss it lightly , giving me his most charming wink. I blew him a kiss as I grabbed my drink, took a sip and walked to the stage, where Chuck was tuning the pianoforte.

Leaning on the side of it, I crossed my arms, my glass hovering near my lips.

“So….dancing tunes tonight, huh?” I asked, knowing exactly how much he detested them.

“..Oh joy!!” A simple roll of his eyes wasn't enough. His whole head followed as he reached for the drink, his ear close to the keyboard trying to pick up even on the tiniest out of tune note. His hand grabbed the air next to my glass so I obliged by handing it to him. Standing up, he took a sip and gave me a stern once-over. “...Darling, did you eat something before this?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed, ready to scold me like a small child.

“Sure, I did” I opened my hand, revealing 4 martini olives.

When he saw that, he moved the glass completely out of my reach and downed the rest of my drink.

“Hey!” I protested.

“Go and eat something at the diner and I’ll give you another one afterwards ” he said pushing me off the stage.

I saw Benny laughing and shaking his head as I passed by the counter again. Slowing down I reached into his tips jar and grabbed a handful of scrunched bills, winking at him before quickly exiting the place missing the towel he threw at me by mere inches.

The diner across the street was small, cozy and, thank god, warm. The smell of coffee and greasy food assaulted me as I pushed the door open, bell ringing.

“Y/n! , how rare to see you at this hour. Did Chuck send your ass in here?”

“Nice to see you too, Meg” I groaned, sitting heavily in my usual booth. She walked to my table, already filling my mug.

“The usual?”

“You know it”, I said scanning the tabletop jukebox titles “Did you add new ones?” .

“Yeah, Chuck kept nagging me about it and I needed him to shut up” she answered from behind the counter, leaning with her head to the kitchen window. “Number 5, 2 as a side”.

“Hiya Y/N !” came a loud, chirpy voice from the kitchen.

“Hey Donna” I greeted back.

“I kept your favorites in that one” she said winking at you.

My eyes shifted to the titles again recognizing most of my old favourites, the songs from another time.

Oh hello there, Bob Eberly and Helen O'Connell and their damn song.

“So...” he said sprawling on the seat, back against the window glass, one arm draped over the backrest and his legs, I know for sure because my feet bumped on his boots when I sat composed as usual, were wide open under the table.

“Ain’t you hot with that pretty cardigan on?” he said while scanning the menu he was holding.

I squirmed in my seat, fingers nervously tucking a curl behind my ear “I’m good, thanks”.

I was not.

He threw a glance at me from above the menu, eyes shining amused, probably reading me like a book.

I huffed, eyes rolling as I began to unbutton it. He was staring at me and I stopped , I raised my eyebrow in a silent request.

His eyes widened and he quickly covered his face with the menu.

Being almost summer, I wore a sleeveless camisole under it and I chewed on my lips feeling a bit exposed. So instead of completely removing it I draped the cardigan over my shoulders.

In one of the pockets I found a coin and I stared at the tabletop jukebox, fiddling with it and flipping it between my fingers. I love music but maybe I shouldn’t show it during a date...did I just say date? No, no, no, this is definitely not a-

He slowly took the coin from my hand, his fingers brushing mine feeling rough and lived, but his touch being gentle and warm.

“You ready to order guys?”

The waitress asked, breaking the moment.

Dean looked at me expectantly.

“What?”

“Ladies first”

“...” I gaped at him, and leaned closer. “You are supposed to order for me” I whispered, covering the part facing the waitress who was chewing a gum loudly,looking bored and doodling a bit .

He blushed slightly and sat up straight picking up the menu again, eyes quickly scanning the dishes.

“You eat burgers and fries?”

“ I do”

“Coke?”

“No ice”

“That’s all?” the waitress asked, scribbling down our orders and popping a bubble.

He threw a longing glance at the dessert section and I giggled. He caught me and blushed deeply, plastering a fake, cocky smile .

“That’s all, thanks”

“Sure, hon” she said and walked to the kitchen, swaying her hips.

“You are not used to this” I said smirking, head resting on my hand as I leaned on the table.

“Used to what?”

“Date”

He mirrored me and whispered “I thought this wasn’t a date” .

Now it was my turn to blush “Never said this -”

“Here’s your drinks” the waitress’s interruption being a welcomed one this time.

He leaned back, smiling pleased with himself, as I grabbed the glass and drank through the straw, looking everywhere but him.

Remembering the coin he took from me before, he inserted it in the tabletop jukebox and motioned at me, with his hand to choose a song.

I scanned the titles, curiously, not knowing what to choose after having mentally narrowed down my selection between two songs, one proper and one that my parents wouldn’t approve of.

I probably took too long because as my finger reached to select one he did the same, pressing the non proper one, my finger hovering on the other choice.

While waiting I started to hum at the song softly playing,watching outside the window, my feet moving in rhythm under the table, bumping into his from time to times without really noticing. He lowered his eyes under the table and looked up again but I didn’t notice that and I started murmuring the lyrics too, missing the way he was looking at me.

“Here you are hon, let me know if you need anything else”

“Thank you, Ruby” I smiled tiredly at the welcome distraction.

“Meg told me you’ll have a heavy night tonight” she said and refilled my cup .

“Yeah, couples dancing night and all that jazz” I answered, my tone bored and already sick of the night that hadn't even started yet.

“Maybe we’ll swing by later for some fun” she said placing a jar of honey next to the mug, knowing that I’ll need it to prep my throat. Long fast sets like the one I’ll have tonight were a no no smoke situation.

“Please do” .

She nodded and went to serve other customers, while I looked at my food. Jody and Donna’s cooking was delicious but I just wanted a damn drink, for pete’s sake!!

Damn it Chuck!!

I picked up the cutlery….

“ You’re really gonna use fork and knife to eat a burger?”

I straightened my back, my curls lightly bouncing, “What if I do?”

“That just no fun...” he said pointing at me with a fry before eating it and rubbing his hands together to shake off the salt.

He was right but still…

“Well….I ...shouldn’t” I thought about my pink lipstick getting smudged, and the terror in my mother’s eyes should she ever find out. He was looking at me confused, burger in his hands mid air and right then I realized that my mother's gaping image was what I convinced me to actually do it.

I put down the cutlery and picked up a tissue. Dipping a corner in the coke I rubbed it on my lips.

Now free from the lipstick menace I studied how he was holding his food and mirrored him, almost all the contents spilling out as I took a little bite.

He snorted and I glared at him.

We didn’t talk much while eating, but I did see him stealing glances around, taking in the place and how different he looked from the others boys who were actually on a date.

I could see he wasn’t exactly in his element and I wondered if he had chosen this place for me?

We were picking at the last of our fries and he looked bored.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked, taking him by surprise.

The fry fell from his fingers, “What?”

“You are clearly not used to this” I said looking around.

“Isn’t this what are you used to?” he said bringing his glass to his mouth.

“...” you studied him and smirked, leaning in , “ Are you implying that I have lots of dates, Mr. Winchester?”

Coke must have gone down the wrong pipe.

“That...that was” he choked “ that was not what I meant” he pointed at me , patting his chest with his fist.

I laughed, loudly. More loudly than it was appropriate and immediately slapped a hand to my mouth, my eyes widening with surprise at my own lack of good manners. He smiled back, wide, the flush on his face making the green of his eyes shine.

No! Not shine! Sparkle!

“Why ...why don’t we do something you actually enjoy?” I asked earnestly.

He gave me a look.

“Oh, don’t be lewd!” I said feeling the heat crawl up my neck.

The waitress came back to clear the table.

“You sure you don’t want anything else? Last chance !”she chirped with fake enthusiasm.

I eyed the dessert section and raised an eyebrow at him. Getting my prompt ,he ordered a slice of cherry pie that we shared, and he enjoyed it way too much judging by how fast he ate.

I eyed him suspiciously as he drove on non-asphalted streets, raising white dust everywhere. I had to tie a scarf around my hair preventing it from getting dustier.I tried to guess where he was taking us, looking around.

As if he could read my mind, he glanced at me and answered my unasked question. “Relax!! I’m just going to my old man’s shop. Lots of witnesses, your virtue is safe,”

I scoffed at him, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

Once in front of the shop I snooped around as he disappeared in the back. I looked at the sign at the front, hanging over the dusty windows ‘ Winchester & Singer’s Auto repair and service’

I started humming the song from before, swaying on my feet , reading the other signs placed around.

“I thought that song wasn’t proper” I heard him, from a spot behind my back.

“You are right. It isn't !!” I turned around and froze. Dean was pushing the motorcycle outside the shop, grinning.

“Is this not proper either?” He stopped beside me, looking down on me as I eyed the vehicle and then my skirt.

“It’s so not proper...”I whispered and then raised my glare to him, chin high, “... but as long as you don’t look and you don’t drive into town flashing my petticoat to everybody, it should be fine”

He smirked pleased and bowed slightly, hand on his heart, “ As you wish”. He straddled it, taking the kick-stand off the ground, and patted the space behind him. “Hell of a show, I’m sure”.

I opened my mouth outraged and I sat behind him, tucking my skirt safely under my thighs. As he started the engine I could feel it vibrating under me. This is absolutely improper and I felt a tinge of pleasure thinking again how my mother would have reacted if she knew. I gripped the sides of his jacket, the smell of leather and motor oil strong in my nose.

My small hands nearly got lost in there, trying to hold on to him. He chuckled and covered them with his leather clad ones, bringing them around his waist, squeezing them together tightly.

Looking at me above his shoulder he winked and we raised more dust as we took to the street again.

Dean POV

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, I said to myself as I lean my bike to the side lightly, taking the hill’s curve slow and careful. Oh god, she’s squeezing me so much! I’m sure there will be an imprint of her fingernails embed in the leather. The dry hot air is messing up my hair as I close my eyes enjoying it and the speed too, even if I’m going slower than usual. This is what makes me feel alive.

Oh shit! Another tight curve. I better stay focused, at least until I get her to the top. I take the next curve a bit faster than before and I hear her whimper even over the sound of the engine.

I chuckle. Well, at least she didn’t start hitting me to stop. Carefully I bring the speed up a bit more. Maybe I’m lucky and I get to reach the top before sunset.

Finally stopping I wait for her to get off, but she doesn’t budge, her arm still tight around me. Stretching my neck around, I see her face pressed into my back, her eyes squeezed shut.

Oh she’s adorable.

I clear my throat and she let me go immediately.

I already miss it. She gets off, clumsily, stumbling a bit and I grab her elbow to steady her.

She blushes and murmurs a thanks before brushing off dust from her skirt. She turns around, fingers undoing the tight knot of her scarf, slipping it of her hair.

I climb down the bike too, kicking down the stand and watch as she realizes where we are. I chuckle as she skips forward, stopping a few steps away from the edge and I follow her.

The wind is making her skirt flutter and her hair dance, carrying her flowery perfume to my nose. I tell her to be careful as she steps mor forward, one hand keeping the hair away from her face, the other involuntarily reaching back to me. I grab her elbow, as she bends her torso to look down.

I shift my gaze to the horizon already tinged by the sunset colours.All the purples and the oranges dancing together, blending, tinting the running clouds above us with colors that I don't even king the names of. The serenity and beauty of them in complete contrast to the danger of the cliff that spreads in front of us.

This might be the perfect place to impress a girl, but this is the first time I brought someone here. I look at her again frowning. This is my little hideout, and yet in merely hours of knowing her I already brought her here.

Why?.

She turns around to say something that I didn’t catch because all I can see is how her hair is hiding part of her face, eyes big and amazed ,smile as bright as the setting sun behind her. I can’t help the smile that grows on my lips and my feet carry me closer.

“...Dean”

Hearing my name I blink and focus on her voice “...uuhhh, what?” She tilts her head “I said, this place is gorgeous, Dean” she smiles softly, cheeks flushed in excitement. I really want to cradle them between my hands and kiss her.

WOAH….ok...ok...calm down, there.

“I’m glad”

She’s looking at me. No, she's scrutinizing me. I feel like she can see right through me. She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and shifting her weight on one leg.

Uh uh!

“So what number am I ?” she asks.

“Number?” I’m confused.

She blushes a bit but her gaze is sharper, “ How many poor girls have you brought up here to charming the skirts out of them?”

I scoffed.

“My lady ...I’m insulted!” I cross my arms, trying to keep a serious face, “This place is halfway from where I used to live and where your town. I’ve been coming up here my whole life and, on my honor, you are the first I’ve showed it to” I lean closer to her, almost looking at my reflection in her eyes and whisper,

“ I wonder why”.

The blush increases as her eyes widen and look down.

“D-don’t call….” she raises it again, this time pointing her finger against my chest, “...don’t call me t-that”.

I shrug my jacket off while walking to the edge, and lay it on the dusty ground, sitting beside it, feet dangling off the precipice. I stretch my neck behind and pat the seat beside me.

She seems to think better of it but eventually steps closer, stopping right behind me, still away from the edge.

“D-don’t look” she orders. I raise my hands and look ahead until I hear the shuffling of fabrics. In the corner of my eye I see her feet. She has taken off her heels, coming in my range of sight. I peek a bit more and I see her trying to shuffle near the edge from an already sitting position. I bit my cheek trying not to laugh and look the other way.

“I told you not to look!” she whines embarrassed.

“I didn’t!!”

“Liar “ she huffs and her feet hang down near mine. I turn my head to say something snarky and I choke on my own words. Her skirt has ridden up on her right side and my eyes follow the curve of her leg up to where the stocking ends, the suspender of the garter belt showing, digging into her naked skin. My eyes linger there a bit before I cough and shift uncomfortably, looking up.

“Your, ehm…” I clear my voice “...your skirt rode up a bit ….”

I sense her fumbling in panic, and I choose for her sake, and honestly mine too, to forget it ever happened.

We stay silent for a bit , enjoying the wind that morphed into a light warm breeze as the sun lit the sky on fire.

She’s the first to break the silence.

“Why did you move here?”

I glance at her but she’s looking ahead , her feet rubbing together nervously.

“Needed a change of scenery...after my mother passed away” I blurted out, and I’m again surprised how easily I said that to someone I barely know.

“I’m so sorry, that must have been difficult”

“Meh, not really, we didn’t have that much to leave behind”

“...I meant your mother”

“Oh...yeah ...that” I know she’s looking at me now so I meet her eyes, “ Well, it happened years ago, but my old man needed money and time to open a shop with my uncle. Once that was settled we left those few things we had and came here some months ago”

“Months?” “I work there too and they need all the help they can get. I didn't want Sammy to help, and I left school so he could continue”

She stayed silent, and raised her legs hugging them,laying her head on her knees, those big eyes staring.

“You must think I’m just a hood with a motorcycle who dirtied your homework with my oil covered hands” I chuckle nervously, scratching the back of my head.

“It must be nice to earn your own money”, she sounded sad as her gaze fell on the now dying sun. “ ...you must feel free”

“...”

“ After finishing school my liberty is my father’s to do as he pleases”

“What do you mean?” She snorted and looked at me, “You are a man, you can do whatever you want. Me?...yeah I may be rich, but all that money is not mine. Think of it like a price on my head, to be sold to the best candidate. It’s a miracle they let me finish school before marrying me off to some greedy bastard” She bites her lips almost ashamed. “Sorry for the language”.

“... I like it , it’s a great contrast”

I manage to make her laugh, but it’s a bitter one.

“Here’s what you should do “ I said jumping to my feet, dusting off my jeans from the dirt and offering her my hand. She took it , standing up beside me.

“Scream!!”

“...what?”

“ No one here can tell you what’s proper and what’s not and I sure as hell won’t do it either”

I take a step back, giving her a little push “Come on, vent to the world, it doesn’t care anyway”.

I see the indecision passing over her face, before turning around, fists clenched by her sides.

“ I DON’T WANNA MARRY AN OLD RICH DROOLING GEEZER!!!”

She takes another breath

“ I WANNA EARN MY MONEY, AND …” she pauses and straightens her shoulders “I WANNA MARRY FOR LOVE” .

I see her stumbling as she took a step back , turning around and I grin at her . She raises a finger and turns toward the horizon again .

“ FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK “

The echo goes on quite a bit before I double over and laugh until my stomach hurts and I have literal tears in my eyes.

I see her approaching me grinning, her steps lighter.

“That..” I tried to say, wheezing “...that was awesome!! I think I will not be able to eat dinner. My stomach hurts too much” I’m able to say before another fit of laughter shakes my body.

“DINNER?”

She looks at my watch and her eyes grow wide and panicked, “ ...Dang I’m almost past my curfew !” .

I watch as she slips into her shoes, tying her scarf around her head again and I already hate it. She looks good with her hair messed up.

Ok Winchester! Enough of that!!

She grabs my arm and drags me to the bike “Get me home as fast as you can” she orders, her fingers digging into my flesh, her face panicked.

“Uh….you sure?”

“Better risk an accident than my parents’ rage”

I look at her horrified and she huffs rolling her eyes “ I’ll grant you another date if you bring me home in time”

“...oooh...so this was a date after all”

“DEAN…!!”

“Aye aye, ma’am” I said smirking, eyes focusing on the road ahead.

I drive fast, wind in my hair, and push it to the limit, just because she asked.

She’s gripping me tighter again, her face hidden in my back, her body pressed against mine and, lord forgive me, but she feels so good. I think she's even forgotten about the skirt and my mind is trying to imagine the way it flutters around her thighs. And now that I know what’s under it, it makes my blood boil. I grip the handle tighter and shake my head. Focus, Winchester!.

I’m glad it’s dark once we arrived on the long, straight, lonely road that leads to my family’s shop. I slow down, check her watch and a low, relieved sigh escapes my lips. We are perfectly on time, and turn around to check on her .

I’m sure I freaked her out because I see that she’s trembling.

“You okay?” I shout over the rumbling of the engine. She raises her shaky head and I realize that she’s laughing.

She’s genuinely laughing. A big, fat, loud laugh that's brought tears in her eyes. That’s why they are shining. Those look at me and I’m sucked in, but it’s what she does next that makes me really understand and accept that I’m done for.

Y/N POV

This is too fun.

The speed, the wind that blinds me and cuts my breath, the smell of leather and motor oil, the rumbling of the bike that fills my ears. I can feel its vibration between my legs and it’s kinda hot and dangerous and is making me feel all the things I shouldn’t feel.

I press my palms against him, and I can feel him like he’s naked , his abs are taunt and I feel them clench as he moves with the bike, following its movements. I should feel embarrassed of pressing myself to him so shamelessly. But, when we slow down on the deserted country road leading to the shop, and he turns around asking me if I’m okay I can’t help but laugh.

Because I don’t care.

Because I feel alive.

Because ….. I tug the knot of my foulard and, raising both my hands in the air, I let out a delighted scream as the wind slips it off my head.

Because I feel free.

“There, you can leave me here” I pat his shoulder and I stretch over the seat of his car retrieving my purse and books, “I’m just around the corner, across the garden”

“I should walk you to the door” he tries to protest.

“You want to be shot with salt rounds?”

“....no”

“Then here is good”

He quickly got out the car, making room for me to slide on the seat to exit the car.

“What are you gonna do about the scarf?”

“Foulard” I grin and produce a different one from my purse “ A ‘lady’ should always have a spare one” I mimic my mother’s tone. Before I could do it, Dean slipped it from my hands and gently wrapped it around my head. His eyes follows his fingers as they graze my face, pausing at my parted lips, before securing the knot tugging me to him, our face closing in.

He whispers : “Same time and place? This Saturday?”

I just nod , transfixed .

He let me go and I walk in a daze through my big house garden, the song from the diner still in my head. I’m in no rush now.

I start to sing softly.

Those cool and limpid Green Eyes A pool wherein my love lies So deep that in my searching for happiness I fear that they will ever haunt me All through my life they'll taunt me But will they ever want me

I know my night will be spent dreaming of green eyes.

@curly-haired-disaster @time-travel-bouqet @dean-winchesters-bacon@babyimp1967 @bamcrux@icysundown @emoryhemsworth@wingedcatninja @imma-winchester-addict@southbreak@ilovetvshowsblog@ezilyamused@ravenangel33 @maimalfoi@missjenniferb@purpleskiesandcherrypies@hannahindie@marilynnlew @mariekoukie6661@wayward-and-worn@multifandombackpack@raelady1184@mah1c@spnskinnyballs@starfirerules@hunterswearingplaid@sculptorofbeginnings@younoeatcheeseyounobefat @icequeen6666 @brokenhearted-littlegirl @theangelwinchester@missihart23@weathergirl83 @ravenhg @thisismysecrethappyplace@yllwtaxi @soloarcana@itsstillnotwhatyouthink@sexykitten253@ackleholicwinchester@clarinette07 @biawol@snffbeebee @daskleinevolk @oldfreakything @energizerbunnay@hobby27 @cloverhighfive@theroleplayer-gameaddiction @silent-loucidity @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @mirandaaustin93

#Bumpy road to love 3 #bumpy road to love #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester au #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean winchester fanfic #au

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tempestaurora · 6 years

Text

WHUMPVEMBER #3: (DISCO) FEVER

this is decidedly my favourite whumptober fic so far and honestly, possibly the best thing i’m ever going to write. i got a lot of my annoyances about disco and old movies out when writing this one. AO3. Ko-Fi.

Bad things were going to happen, Peter could sense it.

Not his spidey-sense – no, that was remaining silent as Peter settled into the sofa, not at all at ease with his surroundings. This was going to be bad. This was going to be weird. This was going to be downright terrifying.

Next to him, Tony landed heavily on the sofa. Pepper was on Tony’s other side and May even further along the couch. They were all excited, wine glasses in their hands and humming the tunes that Peter was dreading to hear.

See, it was movie night. And May chose Saturday Night Fever. And now they were all going to suffer.

“Please don’t make me watch this,” Peter whined, moving to lean on Tony as he did so. Tony wasn’t big on physical contact, but Peter knew that if he acted small and initiated some sort of contact, Tony might break. It was the same way he got ice cream for breakfast the weekend before. Pleading, puppy dog eyes and resting his head on Tony Stark’s shoulder.

Unfortunately, Tony had an iron resolve tonight, and slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, keeping him in place. “No can do, buddy,” Tony said. “It’s movie night. It’s May’s turn. Law is, we have to watch this.”

“Don’t act like you’re not excited,” Pepper commented, pulling her feet up onto the cushions. On screen, FRIDAY had the opening scene paused and ready. “You’ve been humming Stayin’ Alive all day.”

Tony grinned. “That’s because it’s got a great soundtrack. I am excited. May’s turns are the best turns.”

May’s turns were the worst turns. They were old movies – but not the good old movies, like the original Star Wars trilogy or Aliens. No, they were the bad kind. The Casablanca kind of bad with its inexplicable here’s looking at you, kid line that made no sense. The old, horrifying renditions of Frankenstein kind of bad. The cowboy-riding-a-nuke-into-Moscow-Dr-Strangelove kind of bad.

Peter had even gotten May’s turn pushed back a week by insisting that Rhodey choose when he was present two weeks previous. Movie night was a thing for the four of them: Pepper, Tony, Peter and May, but Rhodey was around the compound and invited for the night, and it was only fair that he got a chance to pick.

But they were here now, and May was grinning like crazy because she had the biggest crush on young John Travolta and was going to watch him in an uncomfortably unbuttoned shirt singing to disco music. And if there was one thing Peter Parker knew above all else, it was that disco music sucks.

“She could’ve at least chosen Grease if she wanted to see John Travolta’s face,” Peter grumbled.

“It’s not just his face I like, honey,” May retorted from the other end of the sofa, making Peter screw his face up as the adults laughed.

He felt Tony’s hand come up to ruffle his hair and Peter sunk into it, because if he was going to put up with two hours of disco music, he was at least going to be comfortable.

“Alright, FRI,” Tony said. “We’re ready.”

So not ready.

First there was the opening shot, the city, the traffic, the music building in the background. Then there was the horrible bright red letting of JOHN TRAVOLTA in the middle of the screen. Then, it happened. Ah, this is what hell is like. John Travolta carrying a gallon of paint and dancing to The Bee Gees.

As Stayin’ Alive filled the room, Peter shuddered at the sound of Tony mumbling the lyrics under his breath.

When the movie started up in earnest, Peter frowned and leaned closer to Tony, whispering, “Wait, do you like this movie because the main character’s called Tony?”

Next to him, Tony snorted, nodding. “Oh yeah,” he replied, just as low, as not to disturb the others. “I’ll watch any movie my name features prominently in.”

The movie kept going and Peter resorted to sinking lower and lower into the sofa, his eyes rolling back over the pain of having to pay attention to such a movie. It became clear quite quickly that all three of Peter’s parental figures were watching the movie more for the soundtrack than the plot, as they often talked over the dialogue and action, resorting to playing on their phones or making fun of whatever was happening on screen.

When a song they particularly liked came on, the three of them would drop what they were doing and sing in either hideously high-pitched voices to match The Bee Gees or disproportionately loud for the volume of the television.

It was only at these parts that Peter found any joy in the activity, as he snapchatted Tony and Pepper dancing around the living room, singing loudly to More Than a Woman rather than watching John Travolta and Stephanie on screen. (Ned frequently replied with a close up of his shocked face and lots of exclamation marks.)

“I’m in pain,” Peter said, when the plot started up again and Tony rolled his eyes no matter the smile on his face, pouring more wine into his glass.

“You’ll be fine,” Tony replied. “It’s almost over. We’re just waiting for the last song.”

“Why put on this movie if you all hate it?”

“We don’t hate it,” May replied. “We just dislike everything apart from the music.”

Peter groaned. “Why didn’t you just put the soundtrack on instead?”

Pepper laughed. “Can’t see young John Travolta if we’re just listening to the soundtrack.”

“Yeah, kid, keep up,” Tony agreed. “Young John Travolta is a seventies sex god. He’s the equivalent of your – I don’t know, who’s the universal sex god of your generation?”

“Zac Efron,” Peter replied without missing a beat. “But it should be John Boyega.”

Tony snorted, and further down the sofa May drained her wine glass. “Here we go,” she said.

“Is it time?” Pepper asked. May nodded and Pepper drained her glass too. Peter frowned, looking back to the screen where John Travolta and his dance partner, Stephanie, were in the car. Peter vaguely remembered them winning and giving the award away. Now, he was quite clearly forcing himself on her, and she was struggling away.

Peter frowned and soon enough Tony’s hand was covering his eyes. “I heard it was possible to write a film without sexual assault,” Tony commented.

Pepper snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The scene was over soon after and the adults were all refilling their wine glasses – Peter had lost count a while ago and they were all much looser than Peter saw them usually – getting ready to join in on You Should Be Dancing.

“I think I’m coming down with something,” Peter whined, resting the back of his hand across his forehead. This was his last idea to get out of the rest of this ass-sucking movie about disco. Faking an illness.

Tony looked down at him with amusement, tilting his head. “Are you now?” Gently, Tony nudged Peter’s hand from his forehead, and felt the skin there himself. “You don’t seem warm.”

“I’m hot one minute and cold the next,” Peter complained. “My stomach aches and my head hurts and-”

“I think I know what this is,” Tony interrupted. “It’s pretty serious, if you ask me.”

“It feels serious,” Peter insisted.

Tony nodded, then looked over to May to get her attention. “Pete’s not feeling too good,” Tony said. “I think he’s coming down with disco fever.”

The adults in the room cracked up laughing, and Peter groaned, slinking down so far into his seat that he slipped off it and onto the floor. He made his home there, lying his head on the carpet, the coffee table obscuring his view of the screen. This was the worst night ever. Absolute worst. Just plain bad.

Peter was banning May from ever having a turn again.

He wasn’t sure he had the power to do that but he could certainly try.

When Sexual Assault Scene Number Two occurred, Peter was still on the floor and Tony placed his foot on the side of Peter’s head, keeping it down.

“What-”

“Nope,” Tony said. “Just stay there.”

He heard May’s familiar snort and rolled his eyes as they chattered over the scene, not wanting to watch it. As far as he was aware after that, someone died in some water and there was a train, but Peter was rolling around on the floor and occasionally using Tony’s knee to prop up his chin and vaguely listen in on everyone’s conversations.

May was talking about her new boss at work, Pepper was complaining that they’d almost finished the wine and Tony was trying to persuade an intern in one of the labs to bring up more wine via text.

The intern, when they arrived, had wide eyes and two bottles of red in his hands. Tony grinned over his shoulder, took the wine and the amazed intern scuttled off, not before sending a look around in every direction to the Iron Suite living quarters no staff ever got to see, and Peter, star-fished on the floor next to the coffee table, a large Iron Man hoodie swamping his figure and groaning in different pitches, without taking any breaths.

Apparently, they needed the wine for the last musical number, the one they’d all been patiently waiting for: Disco Inferno.

When that one came on, the adults, solidly drunk by this point, clambered off the sofa and yelled the lyrics to their heart’s content, dancing together, wine almost sloshing out of their cups (but all three of them were naturals with keeping all their precious booze from falling on the floor). Tony span Pepper and May danced over to Peter, tugging on his hand until he was on his feet and pulling him into the fray.

Disco did, does and will always suck, but this, Peter figured, was pretty okay.

He’d prefer it if May chose Dirty Dancing next time, though. 1987 Patrick Swayze was, in his opinion, far more attractive than young John Travolta could even hope to be.

#whumptober #irondad spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #marvel #whumpvember #bethany talks

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canyousevmyheavydirtysoul · 6 years

Text

Northern Downpour. (Ryan Ross x Reader)

Note: :)

Listen to- oh, who am I kidding? You all know what to do. ;)

‘Hey moon,

Found this little bistro a few blocks down from my apartment block. It’s really cute and homey – kinda like what you would be like, if you were a bistro.

That sounded weird, didn’t it?

I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this, as I’m sure you can tell. I hope my ineptness doesn’t scare you away – especially not before I’m able to take you out on a date. A real date. Not these Skype ones we’ve been having.

Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing your face in a freeze-frame during our crappily-connected video calls, but I’m certain that nothing will compare to seeing your beauty in person.

Did I mention that the bistro is Italian? I checked, and they have all of your favorites: lasagne, double-pepperoni pizza, triple-chocolate gelato… You’ll love it.

I know that I’ve said this perhaps a thousand times before, but lately, I’ve found myself thinking of this more and more – in fact, it's been all that has captured my thoughts for a long while now – I want to see you. In person, not through an insufferably small screen.

I want nothing more than to see you standing right in front of me. I know that it’s not the biggest of possibilities at the moment, but I have to keep reminding you of it.

Don’t think that all of these inconsequential barriers keeping us from being together will stop me from seeing you, because I assure you, moon, there is no force in the universe strong enough to keep us apart forever.

I will come for you.

If all our life is but a dream

Fantastic posing greed

Then we should feed our jewellery to the sea

For diamonds do appear to be

Just like broken glass to me

My heart, my soul, my life is yours,

Northern Downpour’

Ryan picked up the dried-out, pressed peony that was lying in wait on the desk next to the paper, and carefully slid it into the folds of the letter before placing the page into a faded yellow envelope.

He placed the piece of stationery safely inside the front pocket of his messenger bag before heading out the door; it reached you the next day, on the first of the month – just like all of his letters would.

The hasty manner in which you ripped open the envelope caused a laceration on the tip of your finger, but you paid no notice to the sharp sting as you swiftly removed the letter from the confines of the envelope.

Your heart fluttered as you unfolded the paper and saw the peony flurry out, your hand instinctively reaching out to catch it just like it had tens of times before.

Your eyes devoured his written words at lightning speed and before you knew it, you were sitting on the floor next to your wooden, paint-chipped coffee table, authoring your response.

‘Dearest Northern Downpour,

You should know by now that there’s no need to apologise for your adorably awkward mannerisms; I adore all of them. And I can only imagine that I would enjoy them even more if I were able to experience them in person.

The thought of seeing you has consumed my mind too. I want it more than anything in the world. Sadly, you know that it’s not possible, as heart-breaking as that is. A freelance writing job doesn’t exactly pay for the bills and an airplane ticket.

I’ve made lovely progress with my novel, though. So much so, that I’ve piqued the interest of an actual publisher, and I’m meeting with them next week. I’m counting on this to be my big break; I could use whatever they pay me to come and see you, and we can go on that date you were talking about.

You along with Italian food sounds like my perfect night.

How is your music coming along? Have you gotten any gigs yet? I miss hearing you sing to me; it was always the part of our video calls that I looked forward to the most. Try and get that laptop of yours fixed, won’t you? I miss seeing your beautiful face.

And those lyrics! Oh, they’re wonderful! I know that you’ve only sent me a few lines, but I have a strong sense that this is going to be my favourite song you’ve written so far.

I have no doubt in my mind that we will be together. Whether it be tomorrow, next month, next year, ten years from now… I know that we will eventually find one another.

And that thought is all that’s keeping me going.

Yours. Forever and always,

Moon’

‘Hey moon,

The sound of your beautiful voice – breathless and bursting with elation as you relayed the wonderful news to me – made me so dizzy with happiness that I had to sit down for a moment. I’d forgotten how much of a high hearing you speak gave me; nothing in the world could ever compare.

I’m tremendously proud of you, darling. You deserve this more than anyone. I know how many sleepless nights this book has given you, so to hear that it’s all going to be worth it is absolutely wonderful.

Things are looking up on my side too. Brendon said that he knows a guy (I think his name is Pete) that might be able to get us a gig, so that’s good. Granted, it won’t be at the most exalted of places, but it’s a start. We’re actually crafting the setlist at present; I took a bit of a time-out to write this letter.

And because it was a tad overwhelming.

I’m aware that us getting a gig is a huge deal – especially if there’s a chance we could get noticed – but I can’t help but feel anxious about it. What if I mess up? Forget the lyrics or play the wrong chords? I know that this is something I’ve been waiting for my whole life, but now that it’s actually going to happen, I feel…

To be completely honest, I don’t know how I feel. Nervous, concerned, sick, useless, all of the above…

But whatever it is, I need it to stop. I don’t want to screw up and let the guys down.

I don’t want to let you down.

And then she said she can’t believe

Genius only comes along

In storms of fabled foreign tongues

Tripping eyes, and flooded lungs

Northern Downpour sends its love

Hey moon, please forget to fall down

Hey moon, don’t you go down

Sugarcane in the easy morning

Weather-vanes my one and lonely

My heart, my soul, my life is yours,

Northern Downpour’

Whatever interest you had developed in your friends’ conversation vanished instantaneously when you spotted the mailman walking the front path of your faded-brick duplex.

Your nearly empty coffee mug clanged as it was dropped onto the counter-top, catching both of the other girls’ attention. (Y/B/F) was about to question your sudden lack of grip on the piece of crockery, but once she saw you sprinting out the front door and to the mailbox, a knowing smile played on her lips.

Your other friend was not as enlightened, and she furrowed her brows. “What was that about?”

“Today’s the first,” (Y/B/F) smirked, taking a sip from her mug and pulling a smug face as you re-entered the room, “which means that she got a letter from loverboy. What’s he say?” she jerked her head at you.

Ignoring her comment, you practically ripped the pale envelope open, eager to get to the piece of Ryan’s thoughts that was inside. Per ritual, you stuck your hand out and caught the peony, clutching it to your chest as you began to read the letter.

Barely two minutes later, you were penning your response.

‘Dearest Northern Downpour,

Don’t you ever, ever, in a million years think that you could disappoint me – it’s just not possible. My love, I am so terrifically proud of you and everything that you do – everything that you create – because it’s all unconditionally magical. You have a gift, and an extraordinary one at that, to craft masterpieces that are able to evoke emotions in people that they didn’t even know they had. You’re a true genius, and I don’t want you to ever doubt yourself the way that you are right now.

As for the guys… I know that they feel the same way. They respect what you do. They adore what you do. And I know that they are exceptionally grateful to have you.

As am I.

You’ve made my world so much brighter and wonderful just by allowing me to know you, and the fact that I’m privileged enough to be able to call you mine makes me wake up with a huge smile on my face every morning.

To hear you degrade yourself like that breaks my heart. Honestly. I wish that you were with me right now so that I could smack some sense into you.

You’re utterly remarkable, Ryan. Don’t ever think otherwise.

So you’re going to go to that gig, you’re going to get up on that stage, and you’re going to make everyone fall in love with you through your music.

I believe in you, my love. Stay strong.

Yours. Forever and always,

Moon’

You’d been so immersed in your writing that you had momentarily forgotten about the presence of your two friends, reminded of it only when one of them spoke up.

“How long have you been together for, again?”

“Almost a year,” you sighed with a small smile, gently folding the paper up.

“And you haven’t seen each other in person yet?”

“Nope.”

She grimaced. “Have you said ‘I love you’?”

“No,” you said softly, retrieving a travel bottle of your perfume from the desk drawer, “No, we haven’t.”

Everything around him melted into a noisy haze as he stood backstage, guitar slung around his neck as his eyes scanned the page he held in his hand, re-reading the words for what must have been the thousandth time.

Once his pupils had swiped over your signature, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath – both to calm himself down and to inhale the faint scent of your perfume. The fragrance would’ve usually been more potent, but his constant handling of the fragile paper watered it down.

“Two minutes, Ry,” Brendon announced, nudging his friend in the shoulder.

After one last glance over the words on the paper, Ryan folded it up and placed it in the breast pocket of his jacket – right over his heart.

‘Hey moon,

I played that gig today. God, I was so nervous; I almost didn’t go through with it. The only thing that got me up on that stage was your words from the last letter. If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve chickened out.

That being said – I need you to be at the next show. The image of your words on paper was enough to keep me going for tonight, but I’m not sure if that will be the case next time. I need you to be here with me. I need to be able to hold you before I go on stage, I need to hear you whisper that it’s all going to be okay, I need to feel your lips on mine as a silent reassurance…

I just need you.

Kinda weird, isn’t it? The fact that I need someone so badly, but I haven’t even met them yet. I have no idea how that works; all I know is that if I don’t see you soon, I’m going to go insane.

The ink is running towards the page

It’s chasing off the days

Look back at both feet

And that winding knee

I missed your skin when you were east

You clicked your heels and wished for me

Through playful lips made of yarn

That fragile Capricorn

Unravelled words like moths upon old scarves

I know the worlds a broken bone

But melt your headaches, call it home

My heart, my soul, my life is yours,

Northern Downpour’

‘Dearest Northern Downpour,

I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am. You did it. I knew you could do it.

Just goes to show that I’m always right.

You know how much I love listening to you sing, and you know that if I could be there for you at every show, every gig that you play, no matter how big or small, I would. But I can’t right now. Believe me, it’s tearing me apart to not be able to be with you in the way that we both so desperately want. Ache for.

They say that money can’t buy happiness, but you are the thing that makes me most happy, and yet money is the only thing keeping me from you.

Cruel, isn’t it? That a couple hundred dollars is all that’s separating us.

I cried today. It wasn’t intentional; I didn’t mean to. I just thought of what it would be like to actually, physically be with you and I got a little bit too emotional.

There’s not much going on with me, otherwise. My book is still being edited – they said it could take up to another five months to finish. But I’m working on another story in the meantime, about long-distance relationships. Bet you’ll never guess where I got the inspiration for that.

Until next time, my love.

Yours. Forever and always,

Moon’

Ryan had just about finished reading your letter when the rest of the band barged into his room, panting and out of breath from running but wearing the biggest smiles on their faces. Ryan leaned backwards out of fear.

“What-“

“DUDE, WE WON!”

“Uh, what?” Ryan shook his head, utterly perplexed. “We won? Won what? I don’t remember entering anything.”

“That show we played the other night,” Brendon explained, rushing over to take a seat on the bed as the other two followed him, “Turns out it was actually a competition! They had undercover judges scoring all the bands that played that week in secret, and we came out on top!” Brendon let out a short, triumphant laugh as he threw his hands up in the air.

“Oh wow,” Ryan widened his eyes, looking at each of his bandmates in turn, “that’s awesome. Well done, boys.”

“But wait,” Spencer held up a finger, “there’s more. Tell him, Bren.”

“We made two thousand dollars, baby!” He exclaimed, practically jumping with joy. “That’s five hundred for each of us. Annnnnd, we get to go to the studio with Fall Out Boy and make our own demo!”

Ryan’s jaw dropped to the floor. “You’re kidding,” he chuckled before frowning and turning to the other two, jutting a thumb at Brendon, “He’s kidding, right?”

When no one supported his claim – just stared at him, smiling like idiots – Ryan let out an incredulous laugh before rushing to stand up.

“Did they give the prize money in cash?”

Spencer nodded.

“Good. Cause I’m gonna need my share.”

You stood still as a statue as you stared out the window, boring a hole into the mailbox with the intensity your gaze held. Your eyes flicked over to the clock hanging next to you on the wall, and you continued biting the sides of your fingers raw as you acknowledged the time.

The mailman was two hours late, and today was the first, which meant that every second that ticked by was torturous to you. You knew that sometimes things happen, and there could’ve been numerous reasons as to why the mailman was late, but that fact did nothing to ease your anxiety.

You were worried that something was wrong. That Ryan’s letter either didn’t make it to you this time, or that – God forbid – he hadn’t written one at all. It was a totally irrational thought, but it was present nonetheless.

After another thirty minutes or so of waiting, your nerves couldn’t take it anymore and you started out the door and to the mailbox, silently hoping and praying that the mailman had happened to do his deliveries early today.

Your hopes were soon shattered, however, when you opened the hatch and were met by sweet nothingness. The pain resounding in your chest could only be compared to taking a bullet to the heart; it hurt like a bitch.

Slowly and regretfully, you closed the hatch, trying your hardest to contain the emotions coursing through you. Said emotions were so powerful, in fact, that you hadn’t noticed the presence of someone behind you until they spoke.

“Hey moon.”

Your entire body stiffened as a gasp escaped your lips and goosebumps formed all along your skin. You knew that voice. You’d know that voice anywhere. Even when sounding from the deepest, darkest void of the universe, you would recognise that voice.

And you would run to it.

You almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you turned around, but the sight before you was well worth it. There, standing right in front you, looking as adorably awkward as ever as he held a bouquet of peonies and a faded yellow envelope, was Ryan Ross.

Neither of you could repress the enormous grins on your faces, nor could you stop the tears from spilling over. You wanted to move, or say something, but you couldn’t. Fortunately, Ryan did it for you.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I felt the need to hand-deliver this one,” he explained, holding out the envelope to you; you gripped it with shaky hands, “I think it’s the best one I’ve written so far.”

Tearing the envelope open, you retrieved the piece of paper and unfolded it to reveal three little words.

‘I love you’

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

Taglist:

@darknessdancing

@raversam

@username-number-01834

@moosesmoose

@underscoredarcy

#valentine’s day #Ryan ross #Ryan ross x reader #patd #p!atd #panic at the disco #panic! at the disco #emo #music #band #bands #band members #emo trinity #emo quartet #band member imagine #imagine #imagines #fanfic

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bates--boy · 3 years

Text

Naseem glanced up, then went back to slicing fruit on his phone, glanced back up, and then sighed. "...What are you doing?"

What Peter was doing was making a goddamn mess in the hostel kitchen. But instead of answering honestly with a lick of self-awareness, Peter replied, "Making latte art."

"... But Mike and Adel are picking up our orders at the café." Naseem made a confused grimace. "Do you even know how to make latte art?"

"Ah... No." Hence the mess on the kitchen, growing bigger as Peter attempted another floral milk pour only to tilt the cup too far and cause spillover. "God fucking cocksucker!"

"Pete, chill!" Naseem chuckled with little humor. "What is your deal?"

"I need something to do, alright?" Peter chugged the latte he already made, disfigured pattern and all, and set to make some more. He was going to get it right this time. "The stage hands won't let me help set up, no one wants to do rehearsal for our first ever show outside Sweden, I can't come up with lyrics worth a damn, and I'm pretty sure our DJ blocked my number." Not to mention that he may be slightly regretting getting the fronts for his teeth because the diamond, small as it was, kept rubbing against the inside of his upper lip.

"The show's six hours away, and--" groaning, Naseem shot out of his seat, crossed to the kitchen adjacent to the den, and snatched the bag of coffee grounds and the scoop out of Peter's hands. "Seriously, you need to sit down. Relax. Maybe read a book."

Peter pouted. "I didn't bring any with me."

"There's a shelf of books in the lobby." Naseem closed the bag of grounds and set it back into the cabinet. "Maybe you can find a poetry book; Ashira's still bugging me about getting you to read more poems."

Peter wanted to protest, because how the hell was he going to focus on reading? But Naseem was practically standing guard in front of the coffee maker, toned arms crossed and sharp eyebrow cocked in a challenge, so Peter was forced to grab the sponge, wipe his mess away, and go exploring the hostel lobby.

"Go read a book, neh neh neh neh neh!" Peter mocked now that he was safely out of Naseem's hearing range. He came to the bookshelf and shoved a hand in his pockets. "Not everyone wants to be a freaking literati, Naz."

He randomly picked out a red-spined paperback from the eye-level shelf and turned it to see the black and white cover.

Double Indemnity.

Reading the summary on the back, Peter carried it over to one of the hanging chairs to get settled in. He set the phone in his lap to keep an eye on the clock and cracked the surprisingly gently-used book open.

"--er! Hey, Peter!"

Peter snapped his head up, eyes blinking, disorientation flooding his head like a slow suffocation. Too quickly, the worlds shifted, the color bleeding into the black and white, the whistle of the train gone. No longer was he Huff, disillusioned insurance salesman helping the eye candy Nirdlinger bury her iced husband; instead, there stood Mike, holding a coffee tray and scowling above him.

"Shit, my bad!" Peter placed a finger between the pages he was in. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I got your drink. I'd been calling your name for a minute! " Mike snickered. He took a teal-colored paper cup from the tray and held it out. "You must be really into that book. What is it?"

"Double Indemnity," Peter replied, reaching up to take the drink and feeling grounded as the warmth leaked through the cup and filled his palms.

"Ah, the pioneer of noir books. If you're into that one, I could rec you some more." Mike half turned and nodded toward the hallway. "Come on, we have to meet up with the DJ. He said he's ready to unblock you now? Whatever that means."

#life thus far ( story )#The MizFists #droid noodles ( writing )

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wrenwritesometimes · 7 years

Text

Muse

A/N: Here's the second entry of mine to (@mysaintsasinner) Mara’s Supernatural Song Challenge! For this one, it's Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away” with the pairing being: Dean x OC.

Edit, a few days after due date of challenge: I fucked uP and didn't get it in by the due date, but I got too much out of this to abandon it!

Edit, a few weeks after the text above: THEN I got a dose of Typical Teenage Depression and woh where did that one come from.

I'm hoping I'm feeling better, cuz I finally was able to finish this, read through it, and edit it - in one whole sitting!

Edit, a few weeks after the text above this patch: I'm okay! All's okay. This one was a bit of laziness on my part.

Characters: Dean, Sam, Pete (OC), Winnie (OC)

Warnings: Cussing, missing, last one was a typo for kissing but it applies too I guess, underage drinking, bars, I'm just listing normal things by now whoops

Final Warning: this is yet another part one to something because Wrenny couldn't keep it simple

Final, Final Warning: song lyrics are implied text or references, not actual song tidbits

Nights were almost as warm as the days were, around here.

The bars were humid, and the people had a permanent sheen of moisture upon their skin.

There was only one air conditioned bar in the entire town, and Winnie had the pleasure of working there.

She was a pleasant girl, little over twenty-four, and suffered through most anything to get money to feed herself and her brother. She was endeared to the motorcycle gangs that passed through, therefore safe from anything drastic; but despite this, she became quietly haggard and exasperated.

Tonight, she felt particularly numb to emotion, so when a regular seemed drunk from drinking his woes away, she decided she'd rather help him than feel sorry for herself.

“Winnie!” the regular greeted rambunctiously.

“Charles!” She replied as jovially as she could manage.

“Whaddaya doin’ here so late, huh?”

Winnie shrugged, pouring Charles’ usual and setting it before him. He was the only patron at the bar currently… it was 3:14am on a Thursday. “Jen needed this shift filled.”

Charles nodded. “You've been good, doll? It's been awhile since I've seen ya.”

Winnie grinned softly at the rough’n’tough biker that stopped by any chance he had, bandanas, sunglasses, and tans to boot. “I've been as well as I've ever been.” The smile felt heavy on her face. “How ‘bout you, Chuck?”

Charles chuckled and heaved a sigh. “I've been better. I think Kinny left me for good this time.”

Winnie scoffed. “That's a damn shame to hear. But maybe it's for the best.”

When Charles didn't buck up, Winnie settled further onto the bar. “If you don't mind me, the humble barkeep, sayin’ so, Chuck… she was never very good to you.”

Charles’ dark brown eyes were penetrating and resigned as he stared at the bartender. Winnie offered a soft, sad smile before she went to get the dishes from the kitchen to dry.

When she brought the glasses out, Charles was still quiet and contemplative.

“Wanna turn on the news or somethin’, Chuck?” Winnie offered, placing the tub of glasses on the bar with a bit of a struggle.

Charles shook his head, rotating the empty glass of whiskey around its rim. “I'll settle for good conversation with a lovely lady.” He offered a subdued smile that still set his eyes alight with a kind gleam.

Winnie scoffed kindly. “I'm not too good at conversation, Chuck.”

Charles laughed in return. “You know that's a lie, kid.”

Winnie shrugged and set out the glasses in order of height, sighing. “What do you wanna talk about?” she asked, the bags under her eyes feeling like barbells.

Charles shrugged and looked around the bar. His eyes fell upon the barkeep and shrugged as he motioned to her. “I don't know too much ‘bout you, now that I think about it.”

Winnie grimaced slightly. “Well…” she hedged. “Whaddaya wanna know?”

Charles looked at her for a long minute before asking the question she dreaded:

“You ever been in love?”

She was quiet and still for a long time, her ears red under her hair.

“Once.”

It was the summer after high school that I first met him…

It was a magical atmosphere in my town, the senior class of my school all being friendly and amicably affiliated… there were massive lake trips and large parties that could knock your socks off and your sister up, if you weren't careful.

I hadn't ever really been “attracted” to anyone in my town, so “by definition”, I was either gay or fucked in the head… but truth was, I just really didn't want my cousins screwing me. We were a painfully small town, and if you had actually done your freshman ancestry project (which is precisely what I'd done), you'd know that truly every-fucking-one in this town was related.

It was odd, and gross… and I tried not to think about it too hard.

Anyway. That magical summer time was when I heard it. The roar of her engine...

He called her Baby, but I called her Mustang… since I was dumb enough to have mistook her engine’s tune for one. It wasn't a mustang, but a gorgeous ‘67 Chevy Impala; in stunning shape, too.

I saw her drive past as I worked on cleaning the “patio seating” - or half-rotted wooden picnic benches - at my job at O’Briens’. I was supposed to be a waitress at O’Briens’ Steer N’Styne, but I wound up being a busboy and other grosser jobs as well as hostess and before long… underage barkeep. Too many others were worried about colleges and boyfriends and girlfriends and drugs…

I wasn't going to college. Wasn't smart or rich enough. I just needed money to keep my brother fed and sheltered. Parents weren't in the picture anymore.

It was the day that Chevy Impala revved up the road that I saw him. Jaw that could cut glass and eyes that could pierce the very soul of even the toughest biker chick in this town.

The first thing they did after parking in the motel directly across the way, was stop at O’Brien’s to eat.

The younger boy - I guess, fourteen at the time, I think - was named Sam. He introduced me to his brother, Dean, but not his father. Apparently only Dean and I noticed the hard glare the dark haired man gave his hazel-eyed son.

“Nice to meet y’all,” I had said compliantly. “Do y'all need time with the menu before you decide?”

“I'll just have a coffee, black,” the man grunted.

I nodded and looked to Sam and Dean, my eyes lingering on Dean’s clenched fists.

“Can I have pancakes and milk?” Sam asked.

“Anything you'd like, kid,” I replied with a true smile, one that even released my rarely seen dimple. God, he reminded me so much of my own brother.

“Anything for you, Dean?” I couldn't help the slight twinge of ‘I'm humoring him’ in my voice as I looked at the older brother, and I didn't miss the shift in his expression as he looked up at me with a calm gleam in his green eyes, the skin around them crinkling slightly as he smiled.

“I'll have the same as Sammy,” he said in a voice almost mimicking his father’s, but it was different in some way I couldn't really identify. I laughed as Sam argued that his name wasn't Sammy, and left to give them their drinks.

Needless to say, I liked him and he liked me.

“And what kind of music do you listen to?” He asked, still distasteful, but clearly teasing.

“I love blues… can’t stand anything but,” I said. “Well, except for one more modern band.” I reached for my backpack. “I actually have a tape of my favorite ‘modern band’ with me.”

“Well, pop it in,” he replied after a beat of silence.

Radiohead’s “OK Computer” first track of “Airbag” pumped through the Impala’s speakers.

“Ahh, so nineties rock,” Dean said nodding as if saying ‘typical’.

I socked his shoulder and laughed. “We’re still in the nineties, and I'm still seventeen, so I think I'm safe. At least for another two weeks.”

Dean started to smirk, but he smothered it, shrugging. “I dunno, I think it might be a dealbreaker.”

I playfully gasped, laughing at him immediately after. “Deal breaker, huh? Have you even listened to anything past the eighties?”

Dean chuckled, a breath passing through his nose. The laugh was all in his eyes, though. I knew he was happy.

“I have, and that's exactly why I'm sticking to the eighties. Take this trash outta this beautiful car.”

I laughed again and almost wanted to be mad at myself for laughing too much. I needed to shut up, didn't I? I probably sounded dumb.

“I like your laugh,” he suddenly said, and I only laughed again; quieter, more bashfully and almost nervous.

“Thanks,” I replied uneasily, accidentally releasing an awkward silence to follow my words. “Wanna hear my favorite song on this tape, though?”

Dean seemed to shake himself, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

Fast-forwarding the tape to the sixth track was a familiar action and “Karma Police” started quickly.

“My favorite song on the album,” I said quietly, suddenly self-conscious of everything I, as a person, liked and did in front of Dean.

He was reclined in the driver’s seat, his arms propped up on the backrest as well as the sill of the driver’s window. His left hand had his head propped up and he nodded his head to the beat of the song.

I felt myself biting my lip once. I wanted him to like this song despite evidence showing he wouldn't. I couldn't describe the feeling I was struggling with. It wasn't shyness, I didn't feel small.

There was just tension.

I peeked over to Dean and saw he was already looking at me.

I laughed softly and tried to look back at the dash, but something kept my eyes on Dean.

Casually he scooted from his spot in front of the wheel, to slightly more in the middle; and motioned me to come closer as well. I wanted to stay put; the tension-feeling I felt finally started feeling like it was a rubber band that was threatening to snap at my stomach…

But I moved anyway.

The rubber band snapped as his lips met mine somewhat suddenly. I didn't react for a moment, just stared wide-eyed at his own half-lidded eyes. Then he moved his lips just a fraction, his warm tongue moving gently over my own lips, and I was gone.

We made out in the Mustang to Radiohead.

It was finally my eighteenth birthday.

Dean took me to a tattoo parlor, to my surprise. He took serious a late-night, totally-not-sober conversation to heart.

“What should I get?” I asked Dean, accidentally beaming at him. I did that a lot around him…

Dean grinned down at me, and kissed my cheekbone. “Anything you want. My treat.”

He spooned my back as we stood at the counter; I was short enough to be comfortably under him as he leaned both hands on the counter. It was like I was in a Dean Cave as I leafed through the tattoo art samples.

I liked it. I felt safe.

I actually zoned out and missed a few pages, but I was brought back to attention when Dean’s ringed hand rested on a certain laminated page.

I looked over the designs on both sides and pursed my lips, uninterested in any. It was more metal/punk designs.

I nudged Dean’s hand, signaling I wanted to go on, but Dean’s hand stayed put. I looked up at him curiously, and noticed that Dean had that far off, thinking look in his eye.

“Dean?”

That snapped him out of it.

“What about this one?” He asked, his tone hollow, nonchalant. I looked down his arm to where his finger now pointed.

“A pentagram?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

“A pentagram.”

“Yeah,” he repeated, even more hollow and nonchalant sounding.

“Dean, are you okay? You sound weird.”

“I'm fine, Winnie,” he snapped playfully. “I think you should get that one.”

“I dunno…” I hesitantly objected. “I'm not really into that kinda stuff…”

Dean seemed too quiet for a long moment.

Sighing, I made up my mind. “One condition.”

“Anything,” Dean responded, sounding grateful. Why?

“You have to get it too. I'll pay for yours, you pay for mine.”

Dean was silent.

“Shouldn't be too expensive, if we don't get them too fanc--mmph!” Dean interrupted me with a strong kiss.

“I like it.”

“Okay,” I replied laughingly, confused but amused. Bemused.

I couldn't help but feel a bit emotional as I watched Sam and Dean teach my brother how to shoot pool as I worked.

I laughed at first, brushing it off. But when I had a moment to breathe, I found my breath heavy as I looked at them. I found myself smiling big, and I had to sniffle a bit before moving on.

When I finally was relieved of my shift, I joined them at the tables and greeted my kid brother with a playful ruffle of his messy hair, a pat to Sam’s shoulder, and a kiss on Dean’s cheek.

“Hey there, Winnie,” Dean greeted quietly, a flirtatious smirk teasing me.

“Hey there, Dean,” I mimicked, grinning. “Thanks for teaching this kid how to be useful.”

Dean shook his head, chuckling as Pete socked me in the side in response. “No problem at all. Dad didn't want us around today.”

I looked to Sam and smiled warmly. “Need anything to eat, you guys?”

I settled Pete and Sam at one of the tables and Dean joined me in finding the waitress of the section we left them in.

We stayed away from Sam and Pete for as long as we could; as long as until the waitress - Clara - made her way to ‘em.

He held my waist from behind as we waited at the bar, swaying softly to the beat of the shitty country music the owner loved so much.

I felt his warm, calloused hand trail up my forearm and bend my elbow so he could see the tattoo on my arm. He ran his thumb over it.

“What inspired you to get the pentagram?” I wondered out loud, looking up at him over my shoulder.

Dean shrugged. “Looked cool.”

I snorted. “Okay.”

Dean sighed, but left it alone, turning me around and placing his hands on either side of my jaw. He closed his eyes briefly as he pressed my forehead to his.

I felt my brow furrow. “What's up, Dean?”

He opened his eyes and I was lost in them at this close range.

“Just… nothin’.” He shook his head and created space between our faces. “Clara’s going to Sammy and Pete.”

I nodded and glanced over his shoulder at my friend, but I looked back up at him and held his hands in place.

“Love you.”

Dean seemed to freeze, but I was comfortable with what I had said.

“Now, what inspired that,” Dean asked, his tone sad, but his eyes crinkling.

It’s all in the eyes.

I shrugged with a small, understanding smile. “I guess you're my muse.”

Listening to Johnny Cash was our music medium.

“If I Were A Carpenter” played on a stereo Dean had hauled to the roof for us to listen to.

“You should leave with me,” he said quietly after the song ended. “It could be us against the world… June to my Johnny.”

I got caught up in that goofy smile of his when he made a corny joke and a whirlwind of thought.

I could move from this town.

I could run away with Dean.

I could leave.

I could go.

But... No. I couldn't.

“My brother,” I murmured breathlessly, apologetically.

Dean’s eyes, however, only lit up in understanding and admiration. At least, that's how I read it. I missed one emotion, though; guilt.

“I can dig that,” he said softly, fiddling with my hand. “I wouldn't leave some podunk town if it meant uprooting Sam… he's already uprooted.”

I gave him a scolding glance. “That isn't your fault, Dean,” I defended. Dean knew how I felt about their father. He just shrugged. “Feels like it sometimes. Especially when kids pick on him for not having friends.”

I looked over to him. “That shits’ started again?” Dean nodded, looking ahead at the field my house sat on. “It's been, what… two months?” I asked, beside myself. Dean nodded again. “I swear to god, I hate kids.” Dean’s head swiveled to me, but I kept looking ahead.

“You hate kids?” Dean asked, somewhat confused. I looked to him and shrugged guiltily. “I hate the brats,” I clarified uneasily. “My grandpa had this saying, before he died… he was a teacher for, I think, thirty-eight years. He used to say, ‘Show me deplorable children, and I'll show you deplorable parents’.”

Dean chuckled, taking a swig of the bottle of whiskey I had jacked from the old liquor cabinet in the house.

“I think I'd want kids,” Dean murmured in that gruff way he got when he was serious, offended, or angry. He seemed calm, so I looked over and smiled softly. He offered the bottle to me and I took it. “Maybe one of each… but that won't be for a long, long time.”

I couldn't help but feel sad. He said that so downheartedly...

“I’d want a boy,” I said, taking a swing and settling into his side, his arm going over my shoulders. “I’d wanna teach him how not to be.” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “I dig that.” We were both silent for a moment before he spoke again.

“I’d want a boy to teach him about the impala… teach him how to take care of her. I'd want a girl to spoil. I think I'd like being wrapped around a little girl’s finger.”

I grinned at him and studied him. I found myself doing that recently. I'd just look at his features… take him in.

How green his eyes were, how his freckles showed more at sunset than any other time of day. How blonde his hair could be…

My smile faded, and I felt unafraid all of a sudden. “Dean?” I asked. “Mm.”

“What do you and your father do?”

Dean was painfully silent for a long moment, his eyes moving from me back to the field.

“The family business.”

It didn't hit me until I was smiling in bed, thinking upon my day with Dean.

It didn't hit me.

But when it did, it felt like cinderblocks.

“FuCK,” I hissed as I bolted from my room, barely remembering to grab a jacket, before getting to my truck.

He was leaving today. He was leaving, and I missed it. He didn't say anything explicit to insinuate he was… But why would he ask if I wanted to leave with him? Why would he have given me that serious of a goodnight?

I broke any speed limits in this stupid town to get the the motel they’d made their home. I slammed on my breaks with a cry when I didn't see the impala.

Anywhere.

Ever again.

Charles’ seemed sober now. Sober and somber.

“Sounded like a good kid,” he said gruffly.

She nodded. “He was.” The words sounded soft and sad.

“In another life,” she sighed softly. “I would’ve been his… no broken promises. It would've been good.”

Charles looked sadly at his friendly neighborhood barkeep and laid out money for his drinks, and a good healthy tip.

“You should get home, Winnie,” he said gently. He took her hand and laid a ticklish kiss to her knuckles. “You look very tired.”

Winnie nodded and waved as Charles drove away on his bike.

The bar felt hollow and lonely as she stood there, her hands resting a shoulder width apart.

She didn't collect her money, and she didn't move. She just stood there and stared as the sun rose.

Her eyes slowly wandered down to the pentagram on her arm.

She sniffed, clenched her jaw, collected her tip, and put the rest of the cash in the register.

She went on cleaning glasses until she saw her coworker pull up.

Four Years Later…

Dean never expected to see the the neon green sign of O’Briens’ shining on his hood again.

Memories of driving up flickered through his head like a film skipping in a projector.

He looked over to Sam to see the behemoth looking up at the sign too, a similar look of familiarity on his face.

“Hey, is this where w--”

“Yeah,” Dean interrupted Sam with a quiet sense of finality. He pulled into the motel parking lot and they went in the lobby to check in.

“You'll have room fifteen, right to the left if you walk out the door,” the old man grunted kindly, nodding in the direction he instructed.

Sam thanked him and left the lobby, expecting Dean behind him, but the elder brother lagged, hesitantly approaching the desk again.

“Can I help you?”

Dean nodded distractedly, looking over his shoulder. “Y-yeah… do you know if a girl named Winnie still works over at O’Briens’? Pentagram tattoo on her forearm?” Dean gestured to his his own forearm as he asked.

The motel owner seemed blank-faced for a very long time before he pursed his lips suspiciously. He nodded guardedly and answered with a curt “yeahp”. “She don't have the tattoo anymore, though. Got somethin’ else to cover it up.”

Dean’s face became carefully blank, and he nodded his thanks.

He walked to the Impala but couldn't see Sam in sight. He checked the room, but the door was locked and dusty.

He looked across the street to O’Briens’ and noticed a very tall head of hair walking into the door.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered to himself and was stuck debating whether to follow Sam or to lock himself in the motel room.

The moment he entered the building, the smell of beer, musk, and good food flooded Sam with memories.

The place hadn't changed a smidge in eighteen years.

Sam chuckled in nostalgic disbelief as he took in details he hadn't noticed in the decor and wandered to the pool tables.

“Howdy, sir, is there anything we can get you today?”

The voice was familiar, if not deeper now.

Sam turned and saw her.

She didn't look like a young woman anymore; her eyes looked heavy yet still just as meaningful and kind. She was thin and lean, but she had muscular biceps and more curved hips. Her hair was longer than he remembered, in a long french braid, and a deeper blonde. She had a tattoo sleeve on her left arm now, a flowing visual of a vine of flowers.

“Hello?” She chuckled, snapping her fingers briefly, a brief look of polite concern on her face.

Sam shook himself free of whatever had possessed him to become so still and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh, are you… Winnie?”

She furrowed her brow slightly, but smiled nonetheless. “Yeah, that'd be me. Who wants to know?”

Sam smiled softly. “Hopefully you remember me.” He laughed. “I was fifteen when we were here last.”

She smiled despite confusion and shook her head.

“Um, my name’s Sam. Sam Winchester. Brother called me Sammy?”

The smile vanished as soon as he uttered “Winchester”. Her deep blue eyes bounced to over Sam’s shoulder and to the door of O’Briens’ and back.

Sam smiled sympathetically. “Sorry to barge in like this… but we were in town and I wanted to see what was done with the place. Hasn't changed one bit.”

Winnie still just stared.

“You still look as beautiful as ever,” he continued, quiet and genuine.

Winnie shook her head free of her stillness and she brought a hand up to her forehead in silent disbelief.

Finally she managed to speak, croaking, “We?”

Taglist:

@notnaturalanahi @wordstothewisereaders @violinmyhead

#SPN #SPN Family #Mara's Supernatural Song Challenge #Super Late #Dean Winchester x Winnie (OC)#Dean x OC #One That Got Away #proud of this #Sam Winchester #Mean John Winchester #Long Term Stay In A Certain Town idk #im tired

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coffeesforfuckers · 7 years

Text

Our Summers Together Are My Best Kept Secrets And My Biggest Mistakes // Chapter Three

Ships: Peterick, Brallon, Ferard, Trohley, Jalex, Zian and others in the background

Description: Summers for most kids are spent going to the beach and on vacations with your family but lots are shipped off to summer camps for the whole summer. But the kids at Hempman Summer Camp actually beg to go! Patrick Stump, Andy Hurley and Joe Trohman all met there, they had all known each other for probably over a decade because of this absolutely amazing stay-away camp for kids from the ages of six to nineteen. All the kids that were there came back until they couldn't and they always had the same kids except a few new, younger, kids every year. That is until the year that the weird kid with the jet-black, dyed, black fringe and the crazy piercings and a couple tattoos comes in like he owns the place. That year also happens to be the same year that Patrick Stump gets gum stuck to the new emo kid's face and hair. It was love at first sight... But hate at first interaction for the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy and the complete opposite for the new kid, Pete Wentz.

Chapter 3: Three: I Have a Forehead Texting Me and He's Kind of Cute?

Dallon

I lay sprawled out across my bed, I don’t know why I can’t sleep but I’m just wired. Probably just too much coffee? I’m scrolling through my phone while Spencer, Jon and Ryan all slept.

My phone dings with a new message and I check the notification.

New message from: Retrieving…

I tap it and Kik opens.

I have one new message from someone by the name of BeeboBreadbin . What the fuck? I’m intrigued.

BeeboBreadbin: What’s your favorite animal and why?

Who the fuck is this dude? And is he okay?

Dal-Do: What is this? School??

Dal-Do: The flamingo cause it’s gay I guess?

This person has my full attention and I know I’m not getting any sleep tonight.

BeeboBreadbin: Wtf??? Is your user a fucking play on the word dildo??

BeeboBreadbin: Kinky

Dal-Do: I know I am thanks

Dal-Do: How’d you get my kik?

Dal-Do: I’m is confuse

BeeboBreadbin: Nice Engli dude

BeeboBreadbin: It was on tumblr and I’m bored

BeeboBreadbin: Or should I say

BeeboBreadbin: I’m is bored

Dal-Do: Fuk off

Dal-Do: You just want this dick

BeeboBreadbin: I’m not against it

BeeboBreadbin: WHat do you look like btw?

I contemplate showing this random guy that literally found my account on Tumblr, of all places, what I look like. I mean it couldn’t hurt really to just show him what I look like, but I mean... I don’t even know what I mean. I’m too tired to think.

Dal-Do: /Image Attached/

Dal-Do: Sorry, I was really drunk in this pic but like thats the most recent I have of just myself and it’s too dark for a good one.

BeeboBreadbin: Def want that dick fmu

BeeboBreadbin: Like you’re hot as fuck help

BeeboBreadbin: /Image Attached/

BeeboBreadbin: Teach me ur wayz plz

BeeboBreadbin: *Cries*

Dal-Do: Wtf??? You’re so hot??? I’m??? Sobbing????

Dal-Do: Pls don’t show me ur god face anymore

Dal-Do: So sexi

Dal-Do: I met you like ten mins ago… I need to chill

Dal-Do: My gay just couldn’t help but slip out

BeeboBreadbin: Pls slip ur gay into my ass

BeeboBreadbin: I need help

BeeboBreadbin: Gonna go drink bleach brb

BeeboBreadbin: Gotta go drwon the cringe

BeeboBreadbin: Drown*

Dal-Do: My name’s Dallon btw

Dal-Do: I realized that rn my name is dildo and I don’t want ur hotness to think I’m a dildo

BeeboBreadbin: I’m Brendon

BeeboBreadbin: Not Brandon

BeeboBreadbin: Call me Brandon and I’ll fucking cut you

BeeboBreadbin: /Image Attached/

BeeboBreadbin: See

Dal-Do: Yes, I am so scared of a forehead with a knife, /Brandon/

BeeboBreadbin: I’LL CUT YOU!

Dal-Do: Sure you will

Dal-Do: If anything you’ll want my gay inside u

BeeboBreadbin: You right

BeeboBreadbin: I’m always a slut for a walking dildo

Dal-Do: I’m always a slut for a walking forehead

BeeboBreadbin: Bitch.

Damnit, this kid is actually really funny and he’s pretty fucking hot if I do say so myself. Even with a forehead bigger than his shitty bowl-cut, he was pretty fucking cute. Shit, what was I even thinking? I just met this kid.

Patrick

I felt bad, I was basically using Pete but even for someone as sloppy as him, he was really a fun person to have as a fuck buddy. He was hot as hell, rough, kinky and there were no strings attached! Perfect.

I know it’s fucked up but I’m not out and I’m the biggest commitment phobe on the planet. Yes, I understand that I’m problematic.

For once, I’m the first one awake. It’s only about six in the morning but I was wide awake. Pete squirms in his sleep, mumbling something. He talked in his sleep a lot, most of it was just incoherent mumbles and others were clear, mostly him muttering something to his mother or a friend.

I’m on my phone, checking all my notifications and such, texting some friends and writing down some lyrics.

“Patrick.” I hear and nearly jump out of my skin, I turn to find Pete sound asleep in the nearby bed.

“Yeah?” I raise my brow.

“Lay with me.” He murmurs sleepily.

“Um, What?” I choke in utter shock, this was probably the most crazy thing he’d said.

“Please, baby?” I feel the same itch that runs through my body when I’m in a relationship and begin to get jittery, needing to get out.

“Uh, I-I’m… P-Pete? I’m- er, uh, not…” I stammer out anxiously.

His words come out incoherent now and I know I can’t keep doing this anymore…

Pete

I am falling madly in love with Patrick Stump.

This is so bad.

I knew that Patrick won’t ever love me he’s not like that. He tells me all the time, he’s not the ‘forever with you’ type, he’s the ‘hump and dump’ type. It baffles me.

He’s so careful with everybody and everything, not wanting to upset anyone and yet this little ball of happiness is the biggest fucking slut on the face of the earth.

Damn, I want to hate him.

But, who could hate Patrick Stump .

Alex

The room was dim, light seeping in through the old smashed windows and the cracks in the old chipped wood of the abandoned wooden cabin Some light also poured in through the cracks and holes in the ceiling. The cabin was old, rotten, gross and falling to pieces but it was ours . And that’s all that mattered.

Hs fingers run through my somewhat long hair, his forehead pushed firmly to mine, the tips of our noses brushing. Our legs were tangled around each other as we sat across from each other on the ground.

“Lex?” I can feel his warm breath caress my lips.

“Yes, boo?” I coo back softly.

“So, um… What…” He pauses, pulling his head back from mine, “What are we?”

“Alive.” I reply with a coy smile, leaning in to kiss him again but he moves back, detangling himself from me. He seems frustrated by my reply.

“You know what I mean, Alex.” He grumbles, using my full name.

“I don’t know? We’re just friends that are like… More than friends but… Less than lovers… You know?” I let out a shaky breath and an awkward frown.

“No, Alex.” He huffs, “I don’t know.” He stands and starts to pace, “We’re either dating or somebody's being used.”

“It’s not like that! I just don’t want labels and people like, knowing! I like our secret , Jack. I love this .” I frown sadly.

“I don’t ‘ love this ’. I want to hold your hand, kiss you, touch you, love you, wherever and whenever I can. I want to scream my love from the rooftops because, I love you, Alex . You never say it back but I’m fucking madly in love with you and you know it, Alex.” Jack tosses his hands in the air, “I don’t want to be a dirty little secret anymore, Alexander.” I wince at him using my full-on first name.

I let out a soft sigh, “I’m not ready for that… I like how we already are…” My voice cracks with desperation.

“I’m not doing this anymore.” He shakes his head and I feel my heart start to sink, “I’m done… I want to be something that you're proud to call yours.”

I swallow hard, “Wha-... What are you trying to say, Jacky…?” I’m trembling.

“We’re done. This… Is done.” He looks me dead in the eyes as he shoots his words like daggers into me. I let out a sob and then I can’t stop, shaking violently and bawling my eyes out. Jack shakes his head at my tears, turning to leave.

“I love you, Jack!” The words I’d neglected to say for so long finally spilled from me, my voice leaking emotion that spilled over the room.

“Well, you’re too late.”

And he’s gone.

Dallon

I’d been talking with Brendon for about two, almost three, weeks but I already knew this kid was something special. All of my friends were extremely concerned with how attached to this random stranger I’ve become.

BeeboBreadbin: Dallon

BeeboBreadbin: Dal

BeeboBreadbin: Dal-Do

BeeboBreadbin: Yo!!! Dildo!!! Fucking reply damnit!!!!!!!

BeeboBreadbin: The forehead is gonna come stab ya ass

BeeboBreadbin: (With this dick!!!!)

Dal-Do: Pls do

BeeboBreadbin: Dildo! You’re back!!

Dal-Do: And gayer than ever!! ;)

BeeboBreadbin: Fuckin’ gayyy

Dal-Do: You know it

BeeboBreadbin: Wanna see my new room decoration?? (It not for indended use btw)

Dal-Do: Yus, send (n00ds) pls

BeeboBreadbin: Those come later

BeeboBreadbin: /Image Attached/

Dal-Do: IS THAT A /GLASS/ FUCKING DILDO!!!???

BeeboBreadbin: Yee! (Not for anal use I swear)

BeeboBreadbin: I named it Dallon <3

Dal-Do: What an honor it is to be shoved up your ass, /Brandon/

BeeboBreadbin: >:(

BeeboBreadbin: It’s decoration

BeeboBreadbin: /Image Attached/

BeeboBreadbin: On tha Pianooo

Dal-Do: Urielectric?

BeeboBreadbin: ???

BeeboBreadbin: O shit that thing

BeeboBreadbin: I do the musics and that’s what my studio (aka my friend’s basement) is called.

Dal-Do: You don’t live with your fam?

BeeboBreadbin: Nah, they kicked me out cause I’m a bi atheist

Dal-Do: A Gaytheist?

BeeboBreadbin: Y

BeeboBreadbin: E

BeeboBreadbin: S

Dal-Do: Relatable

BeeboBreadbin: /Image Attached/

Dal-Do: WHaT ArE U doInG WIth uR LEg!?!?!!????!!!

Dal-Do: Are those leather pants!???!!!

Dal-Do: You fuckin’ SL00TE!!

Dal-Do: ANd ThoSE BOOtS??!!

Dal-Do: ARE YOU A FUCKING STRIPPER??!!!???!!

BeeboBreadbin: Only for u, boo ;)

Dal-Do: That’s gay

BeeboBreadbin: Yep, That’s me

Dal-Do: THAT’S SO RAVEN!!!!!!

BeeboBreadbin: Bitch you cheating on me with Raven Simone

Dal-Do: We ain’t even dating tf?

BeeboBreadbin: Damnit

BeeboBreadbin: My Plot

BeeboBreadbin: FOILED!

BeeboBreadbin: *Sobbing*

Dal-Do: That was fucking lammmmeeeeee!

BeeboBreadbin: Just like you

Dal-Do: /Image Attached/

Dal-Do: Gon fite u

BeeboBreadbin: Ooo!! Sweati and Sexi!!!

Dal-Do: Damn right hoe

Dal-Do: You better fucking enjoy that pic!!

Dal-Do: Everybody thinks I’m a psycho from running around first to get all sweaty and then taking fucking weird ass pics of myself while running.

BeeboBreadbin: That’s hawwttt!!!

BeeboBreadbin: I’d lick you, bro (Full Homo)

Dal-Do: Wtf??? Lmao, you’re fucked up

BeeboBreadbin: You rite

BeeboBreadbin: I is

BeeboBreadbin: Fuck I gtg, ttyl

Dal-Do: Awe ;,( come back soon

I frown and toss my phone to the side. May as well go see what everybody else is doing for once.

Chapter Masterlist ~

Previous -

One - The Gum Habit Gone Bad

Two - On the Rooftop with You

Next -

Four - Memories I Keep Locked Away for Times Like This

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semisweetfics · 7 years

Text

Twin Skeletons

I saw song lyrics for this song and decided i’d hurt my own heart

TW: nsfw mentions, angst, ask to tag,

It’s set during and after the hiatus. You’re fucking welcome (i’m so sorry)

// i just need enough of you to dull the pain / to get me through the night / till we're twins again //

It hurt. Oh God, did Patrick hurt. He stared at the ceiling, makeup smeared across his face from the Soul Punk show last night. Pete was there, of course. He'd started sneaking in to them since they started hinting at an end to the hiatus.

It wasn't that he didn't want the band to get back together. He missed them, his family. Missed spending months on the road with friends he trusted with his life. But.. He missed Pete most of all, and that scared him.

He didn't know what they were. After their last big fight, after months of not talking and suddenly having their hands all over each other.. Patrick didn't know what to think. Maybe he was just using him because he was lonely and insecure. Pete had always been a safe place for him, had always made him feel attractive when Patrick wanted to tear his own skin off. Maybe this was just.. Maybe this was the same as the neck kisses, he reasoned. Pete did that for the cameras, to make Patrick feel special.

Or maybe, a little part of him whispered. Maybe this is your old crush coming back. It was likely, of course. What gay 15 year old wasn't in love with Pete Wentz? At the time the guy was a legend, someone he should've admired.. But he got to be friends with him instead, got to know him. Pete became his second half, was his second half for so many years, until..

The thoughts trailed off as Pete stirred. He rolled over in his sleep, warm chest against Patrick's side. It was one of the few time where their situations were reversed, where Pete had fallen asleep easily and Patrick was awake all night. His tattooed arm was wrapped tight around Patrick's middle, though it wasn't the same as it used to be. Patrick was smaller now, so much smaller. His mom was worried at first, and Pete still was, even if he pretended otherwise. Pete was able to pull him closer because of this, to wrap his arm almost completely around him.

Patrick frowned, pulling his fingers gently through Pete's hair. His heart twisted in his chest; this wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. He wanted things to be simple again, wanted things to go back to the way they were, where he could hold Pete at night and it would only mean something to him, where it felt safe and natural and right. But now, the hotel room smelled like sex and fear, the city lights peeking through the blinds, reminding Patrick that his time was almost up. He'd leave soon, back on tour, to hear the crowds boo him as he tried to do something that he loved, that mattered to him.

Patrick bit down on his lip, hard, fighting back the tears that were forming in his eyes. He'd enjoy this for now, as much as he could. He felt loose, his entire body more relaxed from where Pete had touched him. The bassist was warm against him, a constant heat, reminding Patrick that this was real. The singer pressed his cheek against Pete's hair, his arms wrapping around his shoulders.

For now they fit. They fit together like they used to, back when they would fall asleep together in the van, and then in Patrick's bunk, and every single hotel night while they were a band. They fit together like they were always meant to, simple skeletons holding each other until the end. This end came in the form of the morning.

Patrick carefully pulled away, attempting not to wake his lover, his ex-best-friend. He dressed in darkness, not wanting to see the love bites that Pete had left him.

He didn't know that Pete was awake, of course. He never knew; Pete always watched him get ready, closing his eyes tightly whenever Patrick turned. It always made his throat thick, like he wanted to scream but he couldn't. It was worse when Patrick would come back to kiss his hair or look at him sleep, like he did this morning.

Patrick sat on the edge of the bed, watching Pete's face. His breathing was even, the slow rise and fall of his chest familiar to him. His hair was messy from sex and sleep, and he wished he could see him smile at him. Patrick wished so badly that he'd wake up one morning with his familiar megawatt smile, but it never came. With trembling fingers, Patrick pushed his hair back, kissing his temple carefully. Tears fell from his eyes and landed on the bassist's cheek, and he swore internally as he wiped them away with his thumbs.

Patrick left in a hurry then, making it to his car before he broke down in earnest, sobbing against the steering wheel. Pete sat up as soon as the door was closed, staring at a spot on the floor, motionless. He would remain there for hours, replaying the night in his head, replaying everything, wondering where he went wrong.

It was all so wrong.

// I don't want to remember it all / the promises i made if you'll just hold on //

The studio was warm, heater cranked up since the snow had begun to stick. Patrick's sweater was pulled tight against him as he fiddled with his laptop, trying to get a certain progression to sound right. Everyone else had left the studio early, returning to their families, but Patrick stayed. He didn't want to go home, not until he felt okay again. Not until this sounded like Fall Out Boy.

There was a knock on the glass, and Patrick's head whipped up, staring at a sheepish looking Pete. His smile was apologetic, but he held two Styrofoam cups in his hands, snow flurries still stuck in his hair. Ignoring the pain in his chest, Patrick gave him a small smile in return, waving him into the studio.

They had talked about things months ago, trying to find an answer to what the hell happened. Though they were slowly coming back, Andy and Joe throwing themselves into the project, trying to piece their family together again, Pete and Patrick were still off. He felt it; they never held eye contact, avoided physical contact, didn't joke like they used to. Joe brought it up once, asking Patrick if things were going okay, and the singer had almost burst into tears.

Pete was careful not to let their fingers touch as he handed Patrick his cup.

"I didn't know if you wanted coffee, so I got you hot chocolate. It's cold as fuck outside, and I figured you needed a pick me up."

Patrick smiled gratefully, taking a sip. Pete gave him a little grin in return, nodding at Patrick's laptop.

"How's it coming?"

Patrick sat his cup down, nodding as he unplugged his headphones.

"Not too badly? It's like.. I can't get this part to sound quite right, I think it needs something more.." Patrick trailed off, offering the laptop to Pete. The bassist frowned, staring at the laptop as he hit play.

Patrick's voice filled the room, accompanied by layers of music. It sounded decent, of course, but something wasn't right, something wasn't there.

Pete listened, nodding along. He recognized this one immediately of course; it was the one Patrick played for him at his house, the one that sent them both into tears. Miss Missing You was going to be beautiful when it was finished, he knew it.

"Maybe another harmony? It always sounds better when you layer vocals Trick.. Or another solo, or something like that?" Pete frowned - he wasn't as good at piecing together the songs as Patrick was. The lyrics, though.. Those Pete refused to touch. This was Patrick's song, too much of his feelings laced within it for Pete to tamper.

Patrick nodded, saving things before closing his laptop. He groaned, stretching in his chair before slouching, dragging his hands across his face. Pete watched sympathetically, wanting so badly to brush the hair out of his eyes.

Patrick looked over at him, biting his lip for a moment before speaking.

"I think," he said softly, almost as if he was afraid," I think this is so hard to figure out because I'm scared."

Pete stared at him, brown eyes wide. Patrick, for one, didn't usually initiate this type of talk, was never so quick to be so earnest. Secondly.. Patrick shouldn't be afraid of anything. Pete didn't want him to be scared.

The bassist leaned forward, voice soft. "Trick? What - What do you mean..?"

Patrick smiled sadly, looking down at his hands. "I think.. Because I wrote the song during the hiatus, you know, after.. After New York."

The singer swallowed hard, glancing up to see if Pete had understood. He did, of course, expression going blank as what Patrick said registered.

New York. That last hotel night together, when Patrick had left just as the sun rose, taking all of the warmth with him. The last night they slept together, the last time Pete went to one of his shows. That night, and the days that followed, had been so painful for Pete, and he later found out that they had also been painful for Patrick.

The bassist nodded, seeming to understand. "So," he began softly, not meeting Patrick's eyes," What.. What can I do? How can we make you not scared?"

Patrick smiled, watching his friend sadly. He thought it over for a moment, watching the way Pete's chest rose and fell, the way his eyes were trained on a patch of carpet as if it would keep him alive, keep him from exploding.

Patrick took a deep breath before standing, shakily making his way over to Pete. He squatted in front of the bassist, whose eyes had gotten comically wide, and spoke.

"Pete.. Pete we need to talk about it.. We've.. I've avoided it, because it hurts Pete." Patrick's voice broke, and he put a hand on Pete's knee to steady himself. The bassist moved then, slipping out of the chair to sit close to Patrick on the floor, his hands rubbing circles on Patrick's shoulders.

"I know Trick," he breathed, voice sounding on the verge of tears. Patrick nodded before continuing, staring at Pete's neck.

"I.. That was an escape for me," he confessed, voice barely a whisper. "I think... Cause you used to make me feel so beautiful, Pete, so safe.. And I needed that, needed you, and ... And I.. Pete.."

Patrick was crying now, but he forced himself to look up at his best friend, the man who had saved his life just by staying alive, who was always there for him even when he shouldn't have been. The man he loved more than anything else in the world, he just didn't know how to get the words out.

Pete's hands were shaking when he carefully wrapped them around Patrick's face, cupping his jaw in both of his strong hands. Patrick sniffled, looking up at him sadly. Pete's eyes were shining too, but he had a watery smile that steadied Patrick.

"Trick.. It.. For me," Pete took a steadying breath, his thumb rubbing circles on Patrick's cheek. "For me, it was.. I needed you. In any form, in any way possible, I needed you in my life. That.. It.." Pete sighed again, looking down, hands shaking even worse.

"For me, Patrick, that was the closest I could ever come to pretending that we could be something."

Patrick stared. His heart shattered in his chest, and he stared, hands shaking as they moved to pull Pete's face up, to make him look at him.

Patrick's eyes searched Pete's before he spoke. "What are you saying, Pete? Goddammit, Peter, answer me.. I.. Please.." Patrick's breathing was uneven, tears falling steadily down his face now.

Pete was crying now too, looking like he was about to fall apart completely as his eyes met Patrick's.

"Trick.. I.. I've loved you for so, so long. I.. I was in love with you, I am in love with you, but.. I.. The band."

Patrick nodded, a sob escaping his lips. He fell forward, Pete's arms wrapping around him instantly. Patrick sobbed into Pete's chest, hands balling up in his shirt.

He didn't realize he was speaking until his crying had almost stopped. He recognized his own voice, chanting 'I'm Sorry's' to Pete, almost as if he was begging for forgiveness. Pete was shushing him, telling him it was okay even if he didn't believe it himself.

Things started to quiet. Patrick's breathing evened out after a while, both of them no longer speaking. Patrick was in Pete's lap, wrapped tightly around his chest, but neither made any attempt to move. Finally, Patrick's cracked voice broke the silence.

"I loved you too, you know."

Pete's eyes closed, and Patrick continued, eyes staring unfocused ahead of him. "I loved you so much Pete, I still do.. I'm so in love with you Petey, so so much.."

Patrick bit his lip, eyes somehow managing to water again.

"Pete I'm so scared.. I lost you, I can't.. I need you back, need to be sure that you're back so badly.. Pete, please.. We have to.. We have to figure this out."

Pete nodded, squeezing Patrick close for a moment.

"We will, Patrick, I promise we will.. I... Trick I love you. I'm in love with you, I.. I want this to be something, if.. If you want.."

Patrick pulled back, breath hitching as he stared up at Pete. His eyes burned and his chest ached and his throat would be hoarse from crying tomorrow, but in that moment it didn't matter.

"I want you," Patrick breathed, hands snaking up to tangle in Pete's hair. "Pete, I love you... I love you so much, I.. I want to be yours," he croaked, pieces of his heart melting together slowly.

Pete gave him a crooked smile, arms squeezing his waist. "I've always been yours, Trick."

The singer laughed, pressing their foreheads together. They were both breathing shakily, eyes closed, and they stayed there for a moment before they both pressed forward. Patrick's lips tasted salty, like tears, but they were soft against Pete's. Pete tasted like coffee, and his hands pulled Patrick closer.

When they pulled apart they were crying again, half laughing as they sat together on the floor.

"It's gonna be okay, Trick," Pete mumbled, resting his chin on Patrick's hair. Wrapped up in the bassist's arms, listening to the heart that beat in time with his own, Patrick believed that for the first time in months.

#i never write angst so this kinda made me cry whoops #angst #patrick stump #pete wentz #peterick #fanfics #fanfic #hurt and comfort #angst with a happy ending #fall out boy #fob #fob fanfic #peterick fanfic #ask to tag #i wrote this instead of doing homework yet again

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primal-screamer-blog1 · 5 years

Text

Rating: Mature Pairing: Nikki Sixx/F. OC Playlist Here Description: Growing restless in his discontent, Nikki Sixx is plagued with past anxieties that he never could find the courage to confront. He’d seen and done it all but when it came to Ruby Moon, he’d always felt he had unfinished business. Now, years after their tumultuous relationship had seemingly come to an end, Nikki finds himself compulsively recounting memories and asking questions only she would have the answers to. ***Warnings: mature themes, sexual themes, descriptions of sexual encounters, alcohol, drug use, violence, cursing **THIS IS A REPOST OF CHAPTER THREE. NOT A NEW CHAPTER**LINK SHOULD WORK NOW** Prologue Chapter One: Red When I See You Chapter Two: Attention, Affection Chapter Three: Think About What You Know Author’s Notes: This chapter features just about EVERYONE, even if only they’re there for a lil bit; Nikki, Tommy, Vince, Mick, Douglas Booth, Colson Baker, Iwan Rheon, Daniel Webber and I even managed to get Pete Davidson in there. This one was A LOT of fun to write cos of that. Hope you guys like it xo

2018 Nikki was always amazed when all it took was a strong iced Americano to bring him to life these days. The caffeine didn’t kick in until his car pulled up to the movie set that day, so any of the sweeping cliffside views the driver took him past were nothing but a sun bleached blur. He would’ve been happy to make the drive himself every day but he wasn’t going to miss the chance to get paid to sleep in another 45 minutes. He tipped the driver $50 like he always did and pulled down his aviators, stepping out onto the unusually brisk Hollywood film lot. From there, a golf cart pulled up to take him from the lot to the production building. From the time he left his mother’s house as a teenager, he hated doing things half assed. Even if he didn’t entirely know what he was doing, he only ever wanted to do the best job he possibly could. So after only getting two hours sleep, he was also beating himself up for staying in front of his computer monitor until four AM. He had come up with some killer lyrics though. He wasn’t quite ready for Douglas’ sunny disposition so early in the morning. At the catering table, the blonde English boy was far too excited to see him in the state he was in. Actors, he thought. All morning people. Thankfully, Douglas hadn’t gone through hair and make up yet, so Nikki at least didn’t have to deal with an identity crisis. “So Colson and I were together last night and I think we’ve finally figured out how to play Livewire. At the same time, I mean.” Douglas told him, shoving a bagel into his mouth. “Yeah?” Nikki dropped a spoonful of sugar into his second coffee. “Good thing. You’re filming that part today, right?” “Yeah, yeah. Really excited to show you what we’ve got. Just hope I can stay awake through it. We were up all night to get it right.” “Parallel lives. Having fucking nightmares.” Nikki grumbled, fixing his fingers into a gun shape and putting it to his head. Douglas frowned and made a sort of sympathetic noise. Nikki walked away, hoping that would be enough to communicate his mood. He was feeling anxious. Since waking up the night before, he hadn’t been able to stop looking over his shoulder or grabbing at his throat. There was a production meeting he was supposed to be at while the actors went into hair and makeup. Nikki couldn’t do much but stand outside smoking cigarettes. He decided to head down to set instead. Behind the five industrial film cameras and light kits, a replica of the apartment he shared with Vince and Tommy decades ago was built up on the back wall. On a light board of design sketches, a photo of the real thing was taped to the very top. He looked at it before taking it and shoving it in his pocket. Just like in his old apartment, the mock living room was bare except for one beat up leather couch. The set design crew found one already broken in at a thrift store. They’d done a good job; he walked across the carpet that the production assistant stained with dirt and cigarettes. Falling back onto the couch, he looked up at the high ceilings, wired up with spotlights that they hadn’t turned on yet. Watching dust filter down through the beams, he wondered how he managed to come so far from this dingy, dirty apartment. He thought about one of his many couches at home - designer, Italian leather sofas from big ticket furniture sets. He thought about the marble countertops, the four cars in the garage, the home studio, the built in pool, peacocks at his wedding. He pulled the photograph out of the pocket of his blazer, looking back at the mirror image of the room he was in. He wondered when he started needing so much to be happy. He heard footsteps slap across the concrete house floor and immediately sat up. He pocketed the photo again and got up to find Tommy coming around the corner, nearly crashing into him. “Slow down, dude.” Tommy steadied him with one hand, his coffee in the other. Nikki caught his breath, not feeling any less paranoid. “Fuck, you freaked me out, man.” “Gettin’ in your feelings about it all finally?” Tommy asked, walking past him and towards a pair of monogrammed folding chairs. “What? Were you feeling all nostalgic too?” Nikki joined him in the seat emblazoned Mr. Nikki Sixx , almost resenting the moniker. He didn’t change his name so people could call him something stuffy like mister, after all. “How could you not , dude? I mean look at it.” Tommy gestured to the set and Nikki stared at it again. With Tommy beside him, his friends familiar voice in his ear, he had a hard time believing they weren’t time traveling. “Is it just the most bizarre fucking thing you’ve ever seen?” “I just did my own makeup on someone else’s face, dude. Don’t talk to me about bizarre.” He laughed. Nikki was thankful he still had Tommy to continue experiencing all of this with. Tommy was a fantastic co-pilot to the near mythic lives they’d led, especially for Nikki, who was often prone to fits of paranoia and dread. It was grounding and at times life saving to have Tommy’s sense of humor highlighting the absurdity of all things. Even when he wasn’t around, he’d known Tommy long enough that when things got tough, he could always count on his best friend to show him a way out. “I been having nightmares about it.” “For real?” “For real, man.” “Like what? Overdose dreams?” “No.” Nikki widened his eyes. “God, no. I actually haven’t had one of those I forever. I um…I had a dream about Ruby. And the ambulance and….I dunno, it was all really weird. It’s been freaking me out all fucking day.” “Fuck.” “She broke into my house. And she choked me.” “Sounds more like a wet dream.” Tommy laughed. “Oh, shut the fuck up.” “When’s the last time you guys even talked?” Nikki sighed. “Years ago? Before I married Courtney.” “Never after you married Courtney?” “Never after.” Tommy took a pause. “…can you blame her?” “Not at all. And that’s the cruel irony, man! I don’t think I ever really understood what Ruby wanted until….way too fucking late. The last conversation we had, I just remember feeling really fucking stupid. Tommy, I’m being haunted by the ghost of my own idiocy.” “Why don’t you just call her, man?” “And say what? ‘Hey, I know it’s been years of silence but I had a fucking nightmare about you murdering me and thought now was a good time to unburden my soul.’ No way.” “You could just say hey. I think it’d make both of you feel a ton better.” “What’d you mean both of us? No way she wants to hear from me ever again.” “I think she would really like it if you called, dude. She’s been pretty fucking weirded out about the movie, too. Would probably make her feel better to talk to you about it all. I think it has a lot of people feelin’ a type of way. Bringing up memories and all that.” “How do you know?” “That’s one of my best friends too, Sikki Nixx.” Tommy poked him hard in the shoulder. “Sikki Nixx!” Nikki exclaimed, remembering the name they had given his fame driven, strung out alter ego decades ago. The one that still lived deep down, crawling and craving attention and acceptance to the point of self destruction, to the point of self loathing. He still felt it creeping up, even in the throes of all this progress. With the movie, his marriage, his other music projects, his photography, his radio show and the play he was writing, he was using it all to run from the past. He was thankful for Tommy. Normally, he didn’t like to talk to Tommy about Ruby. Tommy knew too much about their relationship for Nikki to be comfortable with. He’d seen it all since day one. Ruby and Tommy also had their own history, completely separate from Nikki that he never really wanted to know the details of. He had suspicions about infidelities that were later disproven but it never eased his mind. For self preservation, he chose not to think about it for a very long time. Now, with all of their lives standing so far apart, he couldn’t find the room to care. He’d done enough emotional damage to both Tommy and Ruby that he was happy to call it even and forget about it. Nothing happened. He knew it. Any paranoia he harbored was a reflection of his own indiscretions. He’d rather just say sorry and talk to his friends again. “I’m inviting Heather and Pam to the premiere.” Nikki let out a laugh. “Are you serious?” “Hell yeah. Dude, Heather is in it. Pam’s my baby momma. Of course I’m inviting them.” “You don’t think either of them are gonna have a problem with that?” “Pammy definitely will.” Tommy grinned. “That’s why I love her, though. Always causin’ a fuss over me.” “You think I should invite Ruby?” Tommy considered it for a moment. “I think you should definitely call her.” He nodded. “I think it’d be weirder if she wasn’t there. It’s actually kind of strange that almost none of the girls are in the movie.” “You think so?” “Yeah. Yeah, man, we’d be totally dead without all of ‘em. Groupies, wives, girlfriends, all of ‘em. Personally, I feel kind of dirty about it. In like….a bad way. I dunno. I guess it’d take up too much time.” “There’s a lot of people left out, to be honest.” Tommy watched the wheels in Nikki’s head begin to turn. It was a look he knew well. “Maybe we could do a follow up documentary. Like about everything the movie leaves out.” “You got time for that, homie?” “God, at this point we’ll be back on tour.” Nikki held his head in his hands. “Would that really be so bad?” Before they could finish their conversation, Colson and Pete, laughing hysterically, burst through the studio doors. They were in costume, looking nearly identical to what Tommy and Tom Zutaut, their old record producer, used to look like. Colson had even taken to compulsively spinning a pair of drumsticks in his hand, no matter if they were on or off set. He was tall and lanky and he had a big mouth. Makeup had even given him the same tattoos. With the long black wig, Colson could have been Tommy’s clone. Pete didn’t so much look like Tom Zutaut; he was missing the blonde hair and Tom’s doughier exterior. However, what he lacked in looks, he more than made up for in mannerisms. His posture, his cadence, his awkwardness and more than anything, his unassuming coolness - it was all there and it was all Zutaut. Especially in the striped polo. When Colson saw Nikki and Tommy, he spread his wiry, skinny legs and made an exaggerated jerking off motion at them with his water bottle. “What’s up, you fuckin’ scumbags?” His tongue hung out of his mouth. He was definitely in character. Pete held back a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Hey, have either of you guys seen Douglas?” He shouted across the massive room. “Not since this morning.” Nikki shouted back. “You’re probably to blame for this anyway, Sixx!” Pete told him. “Look at this shit.” He walked over, taking off the windbreaker he wore over a striped polo. “He doesn’t get like this until he turns into you, so I’m blaming this on you.” He pointed out multiple burn holes in his jacket. “Douglas has been throwing lit matches at me and poking me with cigarettes all morning. Look at this shit! It’s ridiculous!” He shook it in front of Nikki and Tommy. Neither of them could do anything but laugh. Nikki held his hands out. “I dunno what to tell you, man. Looks like he’s really committed to the role.” Colson walked up behind him, grinning and lighting a cigarette of his own. “Oh, yeah! Real fuckin’ funny. Do you know how mad the wardrobe department is gonna be at me for this?” As Pete vented his frustrations, waving his marred jacket around, Colson snuck up behind him and burned another hole in it. “You’re kidding me!” Colson took off laughing before Pete could begin to chase him around. “This is all your fault! I blame both of you!” Pete shouted. Slowly, people started to trickle in, cast and crew. Iwan and Daniel, followed by their director Jeff Tremaine came in and joined their conversation. Jeff tried his best to be mad at Colson and Pete but he couldn’t keep himself from laughing and patting himself on the back for the chaos he had created. “It just feels like Jackass all over again.” He remarked of his last film endeavor. Douglas arrived looking notably moodier than he did when Nikki saw him earlier. He gripped a bottle of Jack Daniels that the prop master filled with Diet Coke, the strap of his bass guitar pulled across his chest. He took a deep swig before Pete began berating him. Nikki couldn’t help but feel like he was watching a memory of his old producer scolding him for destroying a hotel room. “Eat my ass, Pete. Jeff doesn’t even care!” Douglas argued, using the American accent he developed. “Shit happens, guys! It’s okay! We won’t use the jacket.” Jeff reasoned before Pete could say anything else. Iwan stood on the set floor, watching them argue and tuning his guitar. Tommy leaned over to Nikki and chuckled. “Can you fucking believe this?” Nikki looked over at Daniel who was making an extra in tight bike shorts and a leather bra laugh. Everything was exactly how it used to be. Nikki felt a strange pang of sadness in his chest. “Not at all.” He admitted. “Quiet on the set!” The rest of the day moved quickly. The boys ran through Livewire one time for Nikki and Tommy before filming. They played it loud and fast, Douglas prowling low on his bass while Daniel nearly convulsed on the microphone. It took Nikki and Tommy everything they had to not jump to their feet in applause. Mick and Vince both stopped by later in the day at separate times, both taking time to approve production choices, comment on test footage and sign off on the apparently endless paperwork involved in being subject to a biopic. Mick stuck around during their lunch break - a half hour of undisturbed time on the lot - where he played an acoustic guitar. Colson’s daughter stopped by for lunch too and afterwards, Tommy showed him how to smoke through his nostrils. It was a good day and by the end of it, Nikki had almost completely forgotten his emotional apparitions. But once he was back in the car and going to his house, he felt it again. Even though he took no time to look at it, he asked the driver to take the long, scenic route. He wasn’t quite ready to go home yet. He took out his cellphone and went back and forth on his social media accounts and avoided his text messages. After he ran out of comments and messages to respond to, he texted his daughter Storm that he missed her and turned the screen off. He looked out the window for just a moment and saw the ocean stretch out beyond the cliffs they drove along, the sunset glittering across endless blue waves. He closed his eyes, knowing he had to deal with what he and Tommy talked about. He asked the driver to put on some music to soothe his frustrations. Stevie Nicks, witch that she was, obliged. Step into the velvet of the morning, Let yourself lay back within your dreams. Take on the situation but not the torment. Now you know it’s not as bad as it seems. Well I know you’d like to come away, But baby you can’t come. Your fortune is your life’s love. Oh, and anytime you think about leaving, Think about what you know. Well think about it, Think about it before you go And the heart says danger,And the heart says “Whatever it is what you want from me, I am just one small part Of forever.” Falling star, catcher. Even when you feel like your life is fading, I know that you’ll go on forever, you’re that good. Heartbreak of the moment is not endless, Now your fortune is your life’s love. Well honey, I know you’d like to come away. But baby you can’t come. Your fortune is your life’s love. Whoa and anytime you think about leaving, Think about what you know. Well think about it, Think about it before you go. He almost laughed. He took out his phone again and scrolled through his contacts list. He had to dig for it - he kept it in an archived list in his backup data. He rolled his eyes. You fucking drama queen, he thought to himself. When it uploaded, he scrolled again. Names of ex girlfriends, ex managers, ex friends. So many people; a history of others experiences with him. And then, standing out among all of them with one Japanese character, there it was. For some reason, he was surprised when he found it. It just seemed too easy. Ruby Moon 月 Just there in his old contacts list. Right where he left her. The legendary proportion he created of this moment seemed to fade. He felt silly and then immediately after, he hit another wall. He tapped “Compose Message.” Their last set of text messages were still there. He immediately erased them, not even bothering to check the date. He wasn’t about to go down that path. He wanted to start new. A clean slate. She’s heard that one before, his inner monologue cruelly reminded him. He shook it off. Shut the fuck up, you self absorbed dick. He began typing. Ruby. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that it’s been so long. I never wanted things to be this way and for my part in that, I am deeply apologetic. I know it might seem silly to to you, but I find myself He read it back to himself, not sure where to go from there. He found himself, what? It sounded stiff. He erased it, trying a different approach. Maybe a lighter tone. Hello, Ruby. I just got off the set of our movie and couldn’t help but find myself thinking of the past. Naturally, I thought of you. Memories of you sometimes hurt but “Ugh.” He groaned. He had no idea how to go about this. He went back to scrolling through his social media before reminding himself he was procrastinating. What could he possibly say after all these years that would justify the silence? What could he say that could justify breaking it? “You could just say hey.” He remembered what Tommy told him. He was right. Nikki, once again, found himself being selfish and indulging in his own self doubt. He was done with that. If he wanted a clean slate, he’d have to act like it. What could he say to end the years of silence between him and the woman he once thought he’d spend the rest of his life with? Hey.

#chapter three repost #motley crue #nikki sixx #fan fiction #fanfic

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