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venomsvl · 3 years

Text

- Whatever You Want (P.P)

Summary: Where Peter dates avenger!reader and they have some fun at her house

Request: "I wanted to ask for an One-shot were Peter Parker dates reader, she is an avenger and no one at his school believes until she shows up to see him".

Warnings: Explicit sexual content.Smut, BDSM, Sub!Peter, FemDom!Reader, Dry humping, Premature ejaculation, oral sex (male receiving), slight edging, slight degradation, Praise kink, mentioned of spanking?

Note: Peter is 18 years old.

Pairing: Sub!Peter x Dom!reader

Word count: 3316

A/n: This is not written by me but by the amazing @imagine-a-marvel and she is truly an amazing writer and i just copied it and translated it so again this work isn't mine

𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓

At the Midtown School library, after the end of the day's classes, half of Peter's attention was on training for the Academic Decathlon, with his colleagues, and half on the clock, trying to get it to speed up with mind power. You had agreed to spend the weekend together at your apartment, and he was barely managing to hold off his anxiety. Thanks to a mission that took you away, you haven't seen each other for almost two weeks. His heart started to beat faster from just thinking about seeing you again. God, he's very much in love.

"Very well, Mj." Mr. Harrington clapped his hands together, taking Peter out of another daydream. "Next question: Who does the phrase 'I think, therefore I am.' Belong?"

Peter knows this. It was on the tip of the tongue. But before he or the others could remember, a familiar and dear voice answered behind Peter. "René Descartes. Je pense donc je suis. ”

Peter saw the shock he was feeling, mirrored in everyone who was sitting at the table in front of him: Mj, Sally, Abe and Flash. That took Peter to a specific moment in the past.

Waiting for the physical education class to begin, Peter and Ned joined their classmates, who were enthusiastically talking, while sitting on the bottom step of the gym's bleachers, or standing around it.

"My favorite Avenger, of all time, is Vagalume." Betty stated, which caught Peter's attention.

"Her powers are incredible."

"I heard that she blinded a bandit using only the light of a finger." Flash informed, as if this were illegal information.

"Is not true." Peter heard himself saying, before he could stop himself. All eyes turned to him, Shit! "I mean-um-she wouldn't do-"

“How do you know, Penis Parker? Did your friend, Spider-Man, tell you? ” Flash laughed, but it was obvious that he felt irritated by the correction. Some of his friends laughed with him. “Or was it Iron Man? You lie so much that it’s hard to keep up. ”

When Peter opened his mouth to answer, Ned ran over him. "It’sbecausesheisdatingPeter!"

Mortified, Peter widened his eyes at Ned, who covered his mouth with his hand, as if that would solve the problem he just caused.

"Sure, and Black Widow is my girlfriend." Flash continued to laugh, and went towards the teacher who was calling everyone to start the class, passing between Ned and Peter, bumping his shoulders with them. "Losers"

The other students followed flash.

"Why did you do that?!" Peter whispered, urgently, when the others were far enough away to not hear.

"You know that I am not good at keeping secrets!" Ned tried to defend himself. "I just wanted to help, and then I slipped up."

Taking a deep breath, Peter tried to calm himself. He couldn't be mad at his best friend. He knows that Ned did not mean it. But he also knows that this will be another reason for Flash to make his life hell.

Back in the present, at the head of the table, Mr. Harrington was first to react.

"Vagalume!" He got up quickly, recognizing you immediately.

"You can call me Y/N." Peter turned in his chair, to make sure he was listening correctly, and was even more shocked to see your kind and polite smile. "Professor…?"

“Harrington! Roger Harrington. ” The man tried to compose himself.

“Professor Harrington, I'm really sorry for interrupting. I just came to get Peter. I thought he was already finished. ” At that point, you made eye contact with him, and in that moment, Peter knew he was very red.

“oh! Classes are over. We were just practising a few questions for the State Decathlon. ” Mr. Harrington was unable to disguise neither his surprise nor the nervousness of his voice. "B-but we were almost done."

“So, will you let me steal him? I just came back to the city, and I'm really missing my boyfriend.” You used your sweetest tone, which always makes Peter melt.At the sound

of the word boyfriend, the nervous energy in the room increased. "If there is no problem, of course."

"No-he can, he can go." The professor gestured to Peter. "You can pack your things."

"Thanks." You turned your attention to Peter, who was unable to remember how to work. It felt like everyone was holding their breath. Except Ned…

"Hi, Y/N!" He greeted you excitedly as Peter stood up and collected his books from the table, placing them in his backpack, quickly, avoiding eye contact with others.

"Hi, Ned." You gave a big smile to his best friend. “You know that TV show you recommended to me? I loved it!"

“I had a feeling you'd enjoy it. There are three more like it.. All of them are fantastic. ”

“Text me their names. I need more TV shows to watch. ”

"I was already planning to send them." Ned confirmed. Peter was well aware that his friend adored the way he flaunted his friendship with you in front of everyone.

He walked over to you, his backpack on his back. He was at a loss for words.

"…Hey…"

"Hey, Handsome." You smiled at him and drew him in for a kiss. When Peter felt your lips on his and your hands on his neck and cheek, he instantly relaxed. He sorely missed you.

When you stepped away, reality came back into focus all too quickly. Peter wanted to kiss you again because of your warm smile, but he was aware of the eyes on his back. "Goodbye, fellas!" You waved a bright goodbye and extended your hand to Peter, who had followed you out of school while listening to a chorus of "Bye."

Outside, when Peter saw your car, he finally managed to gather enough confidence to speak.

"Why did you do that?" He was genuinely puzzled. You at his school?. It's not something that goes together. It was not something he had hoped to acquire in the future.

“Ned told me what happened. He was afraid that I would be mad at him for telling them our secret.” You clarified, coming to a halt, frowning at him. "Didn't you like me showing up?"

"No! I mean, yes! I-I loved it! I love you!" Peter quickly assured you, making you laugh. You always laugh when he fumbles with words. He’s glad you think it's cute.

"It's just... I never imagined you would do that..."

“I didn't like it when I found out they were making fun of you… As a result, I made the decision to uncover the truth. ” You got closer, looking behind him, through the school windows. “They are watching us- Don't turn around! Comes here." You kissed him again, and this time, Peter didn't hesitate to put his hands on your back, hugging you tight, and letting you stick your tongue in his mouth, in front of the school. Fortunately, there weren't many people left in the room. Not that that was going to stop him. Peter feels like he can do anything when you're around.

At the sound of his groan, which escaped when you pulled his hair a little harder, you parted.

"Sorry." Peter could feel all the blood, which was not going below his belt line, go to his face.

"You didn't do anything wrong, lover boy." You reassured him with a peck. Stepping back a little, you reached out for Peter again. But before you could get to the car, you waved at the windows. Peter looked in time to see heads disappearing in a hurry.

“Do you want to stop somewhere to eat something?” you asked halfway through, after talking a little of how your mission went. “How about an ice cream?”

"No." Peter responded very quickly. Fast enough to get your attention.

"Are you nervous?"

“Nervous, me? Pff, no. ” Smooth, Peter, smooth.

"No?" You raised an eyebrow at him, telling him that you weren't convinced.

"Just, um… anxious." He began shaking one of his legs vigorously, proving his point.

"Ooh! is my baby needy?" You pulled one hand off the steering wheel and affectionately pinched his cheek. Peter was embarrassed as he looked down at his lap, playing with his fingertips. "Hey, I've been missing you as well." You took one of his hands in yours and calmed him down. After that, you shifted the focus.

Peter's anxiety skyrocketed as he arrived at your. He knows you're going to have sex and you've had sex before and he had his first with you. You've been dating for four months, the last three of which have been enjoyed with sex. However, Peter always doesn't know how to behave properly in such situations, so he still waits for his cue, which makes him the most dysfunctional person

He removed his sneakers while standing near the door, but left his socks on. He also removed his coat, which he hung on the hook, and put his backpack on the floor below. You took off your shoes, socks still on, and put your belongings on the side table at the same moment.

"Do you want Soda or water? I bought that flavor that you like. ” You asked, heading straight for the kitchen. Peter's heart was warm.

"I’ll take the soda." Peter followed you.

You went to the fridge and leaned over to fiddle with it. Peter almost fell off the stool where he was sitting. Fortunately, he pulled himself together before you turned around, placing a can of soda on the counter in front of him, with a bottle of water in your other hand.

“I have a straw do you want it? Or a glass?"

"No... Thank you, Y/N," Something in his eyes or tone must have alerted you to the fact that he wasn't just speaking about the drink, since you set aside your drink and stared at him, baffled. "I appreciate you always looking out for me." He grinned as he opened the can and took a long swig of the delicious liquid. His tension began to dissipate. When you're around, nothing could go wrong.

"Always, sweetheart." His eyes twinkled with delight as he smiled. You approached Peter with one hand on his face, kissing his forehead. sticking your fingertips in front of his hair, combing it back. Peter leaned in close to your touch, shutting his eyes to better appreciate your warmth and scent. He wanted to put his face against your boobs and hug you for hours.

"I'm sure you're exhausted. Let us move to the couch." You made your way to the living room after opening and consuming most of your water. Walking, Peter followed you closely yet again, soda in hand.

"What Would you like to do?" you ask. Setting your half full bottle on the floor next to you, then grabbing the TV remote.

Sex, He thought.

"Ah, um, n-I don't know, um..." Peter made ineffective hand gestures, as if they would elicit a stronger response than what his mouth could muster. He was anxious because of the distracting thought.

"Star Wars?" Not wanting to fumble any further, Peter just nodded quickly. "Come" You patted your thigh, calling him. Peter hurried to place the soda on the coffee table, lie on his side then nestling his head on your thigh. "Here." You gave him the remote, letting him decide which one you were going to start with. Peter accepted it, but not before flashing you a grateful, if not adoring, smile...

In the first fifteen minutes of Episode IV, A New Hope, Peter shivered when he felt your hands leave his hair and move down to his neck, where you gently rubbed your nails over. You did not comment on the shudder that ran through his body, continuing to induce his delicate skin. Peter was having trouble concentrating on the movie when you moved your hand even lower and began to drag your fingers from his chest to his belly... Peter was trying to concentrate on breathing normally.

Peter opened his eyes, which he hadn't even known were shut, when he heard you chuckle, he waited for you to remark on his situation. When nothing happened, Peter realized you were paying attention to the television, not to him. Laughing at R2-D2 and C-3PO's interaction. Peter took a deep, trembling breath and tried to focus on the movie, but he had to swallow hard to keep from moaning when one of your fingertips brushed over one of his nipples, which he quickly started to tingle, begging for further stimulation.

Peter was shamefully hard. His cock was growing hard in his briefs and grinding against his jeans zipper. He craved your hand inside his trousers more than he craved touching himself — especially since you chose to draw circles across his pelvis rather than raise your strokes to his chest. Your hand was too close to the area where he was throbbing and definitely leaking... Peter was nervous, trembling, and sweating, and you were doing nothing. Peter, you have to stay calm.

"I give up. Aren't you really going to say something?” The poor kid's eyes widened when he heard you speak.

Peter slid down the couch on his back, revealing your face gradually, and was greeted with a mischievous smile. Although your grin was amusing, he remained frustrated.

"You were doing it on purpose!" Peter accused, covering his face with both hands, feeling too hot. At the sound of your laughter, Peter continued. "You are so mean!"

"I didn't think you were going to suffer in silence for all this time!"

"And I thought you were just petting me!" He only removed his hands from his face to speak, but then covered his face again, feeling very embarrassed.

"I was. But I was also trying, subtly, to indicate something more. ”

"Why subtly?" Peter sat up on the couch. "You can literally do what you want with me, when you want."

"I- you serious?" With your surprised expression, Peter realized that he said too much.

Fuck it, he decided. His Sexual frustration were in charge. He nodded, hopeful.

"I want you to get up and take off all your clothes." Peter was even more excited. Looking at you with an expression of 'are you serious?’, just to make sure.

When you nodded, he got up, quickly, wanting to be naked soon.

"Slowly." Obeying, Peter shifted his gaze between his shirt buttons and your eyes, wondering if he was doing a good job.

Shyly smiling, You said, "Come, sit here," when all he had on was his navy briefs with a little wet patch where the head of his cock was. You shifted your position away from the armrest and gestured to your lap.

Peter was taken aback and hesitantly approached you until you hooked your arm behind one of his knees and urged him to climb on your lap.

The majority of Peter's weight was supported by his knees. "I ordered you to take a seat!" You grabbed his hips and pulled him back, forcing him to push into you. Peter felt weird, but in a good way.

"Am I not too heavy?" He needed to know. As if he'd asked a ridiculous question, you rolled your eyes harmoniously.

"You do realize I'm stronger and more flexible than the average person, right?" He does, of course. He's already worked alongside you. When Peter's gaze fell to his erection, he nodded, chewing his lower lip. "your were hiding it from me" your state. Peter thrusted against your gentle touch as you explored his length. The tip of your index finger moving from base to tip.

"I'm ashamed...?" Peter declared. Your look of confusion was apparent "I was under the impression that you were only being affectionate and that I was perverted." Peter explained himself.

"Well, your shame was uncalled for, considering I was intending to get you hot."

"Now I know that."

"Then show me your cock spidy-boy." your gaze became blatant.

Peter felt his penis twitch from your words. Gently, Peter reached into his underwear and pulled his erection out, leaving his balls covered. He was so hard and so red, that the color was already starting to darken.

"Oh, poor thing." you slip your palm around his dick, causing Peter to bend over and cover his face between your neck and shoulder, his hands clasped at your sides on the fabric of your shirt.

"Does it hurt?" Peter shook his head. What he was feeling couldn't be characterized as discomfort. You were being tender, wetting your hand by repeatedly squeezing the tip, which was dripping with precum. Your other hand massaging his shoulder and back.

He was muttering moans and whimpers against your neck. Peter began to fuck your hand spontaneously, he needed you to touch him more.

"Y/N-N!" Peter forced himself to stop his own movements, but you kept on moving your hand up and down his shaft.

"Hmm?" You kissed him behind his ear.

"I-I’m going, I’m going, I’m going..." your hand wasn't even moving quick, however Peter felt the rope in his lower stomach tighten.

"you going to what?... use your word baby boy"

"I'm going to cum!" he screamed. His balls felt so full, so tight.

“You like how I’m milking your cock baby?” He nodded again to your words. “ I said use your words!” You told him then smacking his ass.

“Y-ah y-oh fuck Yes! I like it” Peter's hips thrusted irregularly as his eyes rolled back.

"You can come, baby..."

Peter kept fucking your hand, quick and hard, fully engrossed in the sensation. Soon, he felt himself approaching his sweet release, his cock launching a long stream of cum, causing his whole body to tremble. Peter relished every second of the pleasure, groaning loudly and breathlessly. He slumped in your arms due to a lack of stamina, and you soothed him with affectionate words and a hand running up and down his back.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel great!" Peter sat up straight once again, showing you how satisfied he was.

You smooched him on the cheek and began wiping your cum-stained hand, on the clean part of your shirt. Then he saw the cum spots on your shirt.

"Your clothes-"

"I’m sorry!" He looked around, looking for something to help you clean up.

"Don't you worry yourself over that." After wiping your hand as thoroughly as possible, you gently removed your shirt, turning it inside out and soaking it with what's still on his belly and cock, forcing him hiss a little since its still sensitive. Subconsciously holding hands, he paid close attention to the way your bare boobs swayed as you scrubbed him.

"Already?"

Following your gaze, he saw that his friend was once again growing up in your presence. "I can't control it!" You chuckled as Peter defended himself, battling the temptation to cover his face once more.

"Are you able to get up?" You questioned, patting his butt and tossing the stained T-shirt to the floor. Peter complied, returning the hardening erection to his briefs and waiting for your reaction.

You stood up and pulled off your socks before lowering your shorts and underwear and tossing them on the floor with the rest of your clothing. Peter didn't wait for you to order him to strip down, he immediately disposed of the rest of his clothes

“Someone is overjoyed. It doesn't seem like you've just came.” You provoked

To prevent himself from smiling too much, Peter bit the tip of his bottom lip.

"I'm sure you are too." You cocked your head.

"really?"

"I can smell it" Bless his sensitive senses.

"Oh yes?" you say. " So, kitten, what are you going to do about it" You dared to ask, and you did so with confidence.

"whatever you want." Peter whined.

#stella chaos #sub!peter #sub!peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #peter parker concept #imagine a marvel #peter parker smut

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dovenymph · 3 years

Text

a film by peter parker

authors note: this was inspired by another thinkerpete tweet that read "peter probably watches the bit from "a film by peter parker" where he's in the car with tony over and over when he misses him" and@peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology’s summer of love prompt list💛💛 also the video edit was made by me so please do not screen record/save and repost it even if you do credit me (also this is unedited so sorry for any typos, i’ll probably go through it sometime this week, i just wanted to post it first)

prompts used: 2. making the backyard/rooftop into a movie theater

my masterlist

warnings: mentions of tony’s death, other than that, nothing but fluff

word count: 3.9k

Peter hated the summer.

Peter hated not having anything to busy himself with; no homework, or academic decathlon, or seeing Ned everyday who could wrap him up in his graphic novel fan theories or the drama in his on and off relationship with Betty. It was petty drama and minor stimulation, but it was something to distract him momentarily. But now Ned was in Aruba with his parents for the entire month which meant Peter had to suffer through the scorching heat of Juy all by himself.

Peter knew he didn’t have to be alone each day, -Aunt May had spent many dinners trying to get him to join her at the movies or the mall, even offering to let him have free reign of the lego store (when he said no to that, she knew he was in worse shape than she thought)- he had a handful of trustworthy and dependable friends he could hang out with for the afternoon like MJ and Betty, or even Flash who had been uncharacteristically nice to Peter ever since he found out he was Spiderman; this having happened only a few weeks after Tony had died and Peter had let him in on his secret to console a sobbing Eugene who, honestly, seemed to be more broken up about the news than Peter was. But even with his expanding friend group, Peter had found the most his body could endure was the contents of his bedroom.

He tried to get back out there after Tony’s passing, he really did, but at the first Iron Man tribute he admired on patrol, his body completely shut down and he swung back home, tears dampening the material of the mask.

So a lonely summer was what Peter submitted himself too, and he’s come to terms with it. He’s rewatched his favorite old shows, started binging some new ones. He’s taken apart and put together his lego death star four times now, each time faster than the last. But he’s been particularly fond of staring out the window. His apartment complex was quite close to the building besides his and he could look down into the backyard everyone had to share. Peter’s building had one as well, but since he was pretty sure he was the only person under 35 who lived there, it went unused.

Next door, there was always a different activity occurring in order for the patrons to beat the heat, and Peter often thought about how easy it would be for him to just go downstairs and introduce himself, and ask to join. It’d really be as simple as that and he’d meet some new people, get a free lunch and a chance to swim in the plastic pool they set up; maybe they’d laugh at his jokes and clap when he did flips, but it was all just a maybe, just in his imagination because his brain never let him wander to far before squandering the idea of getting close to someone again, for if history has taught Peter anything, it's that anything he gets close to, is not meant to stay for long and will be soon snatched away from him in the cruelest of ways.

And this thought is what resigns him to slink back behind his window and pout the day away, as he was doing now, vision blurring as he stared at nothing.

“Hey!”

Peter jumped, his eyes focusing on the target of whoever pelted his window and they landed on your form, slumped against your open windowsill, chin resting on your hand as you gazed back at him.

“Can I help you?” Peter bit back after lifting his window half way, his tone unconsciously laced with annoyance. He really didn’t even notice it anymore since that’s how he’s been speaking to everyone in his life for months now, but when you flinched at his tone, guilt started to creep up his spine.

Before he could ever begin to stumble out an apology, you cut him off “Yeah, is there a reason you stare into my room everyday?”

Peter's face flushed red and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken so bluntly towards him, and honestly, he liked it. He was getting tired of everyone walking on tiptoes around him, he just wanted things to go back to how they were, where he was just Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood student.

“Or could you at least give me some money for some curtains if you just can’t give up the beautiful view of a concrete wall?”

“S-sorry, I- I didn’t even know you were there.”

Lie.

Peter knew you were there, he always knew when you were there.

Peter Parker isn’t a stalker, though! Sure, he’s gone through some fucked up shit on Earth and in space, so yeah, he wouldn’t call himself the most …sane person he knows, but he really wasn’t a creep. With your buildings being so close and your rooms directly across from one anothers, he was bound to notice you at some point.

And at some point he did. It was the first day of summer and Midtown let out at 12 instead of 3 to mark the occasion, so Peter had been mulling about in his room for quite some time already, thinking about how he heard all his classmates amazing summer plans and how the farthest he was going to go was probably the Thai restaurant down the street, and even that was a maybe. Peter sulked in silence until a couple hours later he heard a door slam closed, thumps from things being tossed on the ground, and a loud groan as he peeked through his windowsill at you who was currently flopped on the bed, window wide open without a care, scrolling on your phone.

At first, he was taken aback by your beauty, a small, small feeling of intrigue spiked his system, but it flew under the radar due to the seemingly everlasting dread that’s been weighing down on Peter's shoulders for months. But he couldn’t look away. You’d been doing nothing but looking at tiktoks mindlessly, occasionally cracking a half smile if a video was particularly amusing, but you still remained cemented to your mattress with no plans on moving anytime soon.

This brought comfort to Peter as he fished his phone out from the bottom of his bag and pulled up Ned’s messages and started to look through the media he sent him, almost two months worth of funny memes and videos that he hadn’t been bothered to look at, and he sat there along with you, aimlessly letting the time pass by. He enjoyed it, knowing he wasn’t really alone in his lazy and distracting behaviors because the pretty neighbor girl was doing just the same.

Ever since then, he’s just been …aware… of your coming and goings. He figured you had a summer job as every other day you were gone for a few hours, a solid shift. But on the days you were home, you also spent it mainly up in your room, every now and then, playing music from your record player, and if he was really lucky, you’d, unknowingly, give him a private concert as you sung out whichever niall horan or ariana grande song struck your fancy that day. He grew quite fond of the music, having added some of the regulars to his own playlist. And he enjoyed knowing you were right there, and he was right here; each of you living your lives, as uneventful as they may be, but you were together in some sort of way.

He’d never spoken to you, the ability of being able to just push his window up and call out to you at any time was what he liked, and each day he thought he’d do it but chickened out, and now it seemed like he’d have to make introductions whether he was ready or not.

“Mmm, right, so you haven’t seen me change or anything like that?” You asked and the content of your question and the inquisitive tone brought a flush to his cheeks.

“N-no! Of course not! I-I’d never do that, why would I even want to look at you? I mean! I don’t think you’re ugly or anything I… I just…”

Peter’s ramblings were cut off with your laugh as it bounced off the summer air and into his room. You were fully leaning out your open window now, and Peter had found himself in the same position, as if he was drawn to you.

“I was only joking with ya, but it's still nice to have the confirmation. I’m Y/N, your neighbor! Obviously.” You trailed off at the end, knowing that information was unnecessary since the boy next door obviously already knew that.

He was like no boy you’d ever seen before, only read about in books. He had a sweet disposition and inviting brown eyes that matched his soft chestnut hair. But he was built like a man, a strong jaw and strong arms. You’d seen him leaving his building everyday on your way to school, and when he’d get dropped off in a big black SUV during the late hours of the night, but he walked in the opposite direction or darted inside so fast,you never really got a chance to take him in.

“…Peter?” His tentative tone snapped you out of your daze and you realized he was introducing himself.

“Sorry, Peter! I- I… got distracted… by your… death star!” You let out, eyes focusing on the black and grey figure resting on his bed.

Peter felt his cheeks heat up as he moved to push it to the ground.

“That’s pretty cool! I finished the star wars series last summer.”

Peter’s eyes snapped up to yours and the friendly smile you were giving him along with the genuine interest in your tone seemed to break something inside him, snapped the band of hesitation that wrapped around his heart. “You did? For the first time?”

“Yeah! I know I’m like super late, but there’s like nine movies!”

Your laughs melded into one as you leaned out your respective windows and began talking about your favorite movie series. Peter was aware that this was unnatural for him. He had been more open to this stranger in the past few minutes than he had to his own Aunt in months and the same guilt from earlier crept up on him. But Peter was having a good time talking to you and he felt his insides turn in excitement when he realized you really had no idea who he was. He had a clean slate with you and he could make any first impression he wanted, well he hoped your first impression of him wasn’t that he was a peeping pervert, but we move, as MJ would say.

You were about to start telling Peter about this new dystopian novel you began reading when you heard a woman call out to him.

“Oh, that’s my Aunt May. She must be home from work. I- I should go say hello.” He explained, a sad look crossing his face that you didn’t quite understand.

You felt your own sadness wash over you, though. You didn’t want to stop talking to Peter either. “Yeah, of course!”

“But we can talk tomorrow right?” Peter asked, his tone laced with uncertainty.

“Oh well, I work double tomorrow… so I probably won’t be home ‘til late.” You said and the way the brown haired boys face visibly fell felt like a punch in the gut and you were scrambling for a reason to make him smile.

“B-but hey! I also get paid tomorrow so if you want, you can come over on saturday and we can have a movie night and we can order a shit ton of take out?”

“Come over to your place?” Peter asked, and he felt himsef involuntarily tense at the idea of leaving his room for the first time in weeks. It was safe in his room. But the pleading look on your face and hopefulness in your tone encouraged him to take the chance.

“I’d love to y/n.” Peter said with a soft smile and you smiled back shyly at him before closing your window and making your way out your room, making sure you were safe in the hall, away from his prying eyes to do a little happy dance.

Peter was unable to wipe the grin off his face as he walked out his room to greet his Aunt.

She heard his feet padding down the hall as she was setting out dinner, “Sorry its not ready yet, Petey, today’s been crazy, but I’ll get started now.” She rushed. Recently, she’s been hoping food’s the key to lift her poor nephews spirits, so each night she’ll either order or make something more fattening, cheesy, and delicious than the last.

“It’s alright May,” Peter let out easily as he turned the counter and placed a kiss on her cheek, “why don’t you let me cook tonight?”

May’s jaw dropped and she blinked a couple times. She could barely get two words out of Peter recently, and they were always either a meak thank you for dinner or an it was good when she asked about his day. She felt her eyes tear up at the slight sliver of her old Petey back.

“O-oh, really, you wanna cook?”

Peter ducked his head down at the ingredients in front of him to avoid looking in her eyes, his heart dropping at the glossiness that overtook them. He truly hadn’t realized how closed off he’d been. “Well, how about we do it together?” He began and the face splitting grin that spread across May’s face was all he needed to know he was taking a step in the right direction.

“G-good idea, honey. Can’t have the house burn down, can we?”

“Hey!”

May laughed and kissed Peter’s head as they began winding through the kitchen, making casual conversation. It was just like the old days, May thought. Before the wave of devastation drowned Peter as he lost a father figure, once again.

“So what did you do today, P? Do you know when Ned get’s back? I’m sure you’re both excited to see each other.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am. I don’t know when he get’s back actually, but that’s okay-“

“I know you like your peace and quiet, I really do, but I do think it’ll be good for you to get out of the apartment for a little bit, see if Michelle is available. Oh! Or maybe that Lisa, Liz! I liked Liz, see if she’s available-“

“May! Its okay. I don’t need to hang out with Liz Allen,” Peter grumbled, “I- I made a new friend actually.”

May looked over at Peter in confusion since he hadn’t gone out or had anyone over in weeks, that she could remember; and Peter took her silence as an opportunity to continue.

“The neighbor.”

“Mrs. Wozniak?”

“No! Y/n, she lives in the next building over. And my room is right across from hers. We’re gonna hang out on saturday.”

“Oh?” May raised her brows at her nephew and bit back a smile, much to Peter’s chagrin. “Is she pretty?”

“And that’s relevant why?”

“I don’t know!!” May drawled and Peter just rolled his eyes and kept chopping the vegetables in front of him, the blush adorning his cheeks refusing to go down as he thought yes, yes she is.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

You yanked the door open as soon as you heard Peter’s knocks against it. He jumped back a bit, his arm still partially raised from when he knocked and you silently berated yourself for being so eager, but the spreading smile across his face made you feel not so bad.

“Oh, sorry, I was just-“

“It’s alright.” Peter replied with a soft smile, and you let yourself trace the golden flecks in his eyes before he cleared his throat, once again, snapping you out of a daze. You seemed to be in a dreamy state around him alot.

“Can I come in? I brought my Star Wars DVD collection by the way, I know you’ve seen them, but this one has the director's cut which I thought totally changed the course of the first trilogy!” Peter explained, rocking on the balls of his feet in excitement.

You bit your lip at the sight, his cuteness was rubbing off on you. “Yeah, that sounds great, but actually we aren’t gonna be watching in here.” You said, grabbing the bag of Chinese food and snacks and stepping out.

Peter’s face sputtered as you both walked to the stairs. He’d spent all day building up his courage to just go six feet from his building, there was no way he’d be able to go around the city with you for the fear of seeing something that’ll remind him of the avengers or crime.

“Y’alright?” You asked, noticing Peter’s stony silence as you walked down the last flight and made your way to the back gate.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I’m just nervous. I haven’t really hung out with anyone new in a while, well, with anyone at all really.”

You smiled in sympathy, “I get you, I haven’t either. All my friends are out of town, so I’ve mostly just hung out in my room, too.”

“But you already knew that, don’t ya stalker?”

Peter rolled his eyes and shoved your arm as you laughed, glad you got his nerves out of his system. You unlocked the gate and lef Peter to the back garden.

“Woah..” Peter let out. There was a large white sheet hung up between two trees, and a projector set up on the table behind where a blanket lay, covered in a mess of pillows. The setting sun lit up by strung lightbulbs.

“You like? I figured since we both seemed to be home bodies, we could have the fun of the movie theatre, but here!”

Peter felt his heart swell at your words. You’d only known him for two days, and you already treated him with so much consideration and kindness. “I- I love it, y/n. This is amazing.”

He saw how you tucked your cheek into your shoulder in bashfulness and felt his spirits raise even higher. You were adorable.

“I’m glad you like it. I hope the projector works though, it took me forever to translate the instructions.”

Peter walked over to it and gave it a once over. “It seems fine to me, but I can always look at it if you want.”

“Oh yeah? You good with tech?”

“Good enough to get by. I needed it a lot while working with Mr. Stark” Peter began, forgetting that he wasn’t talking to an old friend.

“You worked with Tony Stark?!?”

“Oh.. oh yeah, only for a little! I was an intern.” He said quietly, beating himself up for even bringing up the topic of Tony. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of a pretty girl.

“Wow, that must’ve been amazing. You, you must miss him a lot then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lifelessly. “Yeah I do.”

“But no matter, we’re here to have a good time right?”

“Yeah, yeah we are!” You grasped his hand and gave him a sympathetic squeeze -neither of you blind to the sparks that shot from the place your hands met- and got settled on the blanket.

Two and a half moves later, the sun had set and the two of you were sitting in the darkness, the only light coming from the flickering of the projector as the abandoned movie played. You and Peter were sitting cross legged, facing each other as he told you another story about working with the Avengers.

“Yeah, it was so crazy!! We were in this airport and he went from being like two inches tall to two hundred feet, it blew my mind. But it was okay though, because I had this idea-“

“Wait, wait, wait. You were there? Why?” You asked, loving every adventure filled anecdote he told you, but it wasn’t all adding up. For just an intern, he seemed incredibly close to Mr. Stark himself, but then again, you’d only known him for less than a week and you also wanted to go everywhere with him.

Peter worried his lip, thinking about how he could worm his way out of this one. Why would a teenage intern be at the Avengers civil war? He figured he could lie, or even just run away and buy black out curtains. Maybe he could convince Aunt May to switch rooms with him even. But you’d already brought so much light to his life in multiple aspects, and he thought, just maybe, you’d be able to bring light to that aspect of his life too.

“You know what, lemme just show you! Wait here, I’ll be back!”

Peter ran back down, his Chewbacca flash drive in hand, adrenaline running through his veins. He plugged it into your laptop and dug up a folder he hadn’t touched in almost eight months.

“What’s this?” You asked as he sat back down next to you.

“You’ll see.” He said, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

A Film by Peter Parker, read the title as a compilation of videos featuring Peter, Happy, Aunt May, the Avengers, and Tony projected before you both.

Peter heard you gasp as the camera flashed to the suit, and saw, from the corner of his eye, how your head snapped towards his as he backspringed across the battleground. The film continued and neither of you could tear your eyes from the screen. Peter felt his eyes well up with tears as a scene with him and Tony talking to the camera began and he thought that watching this was a bad idea and he was about to turn around and turn it off when he felt your fingers intertwine with his.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the warmth you brought him and he squeezed back, his brain nearly malfunctioning at the speed in which he tried to memorize the feel of your hand in his. But his senses were overloaded as he picked up on your accelerated heartbeat.

The two of you continued to watch the video, neither moving even when it autostarted from the beginning, and this time you laughed outwardly at the funny parts, and asked him questions about why Happy didn’t seem to like him.

“What did you do to him Peter?”

“Nothing I swear!”

“Likely story.”

And he felt the steel blanket of grief fall off his shoulders. The feeling of intrigue and excitement for going back to life was no longer a small trail buried deep within him, but now a firecracker that ignited his insides and aurated off of him. Things were going to be alright, he was going to make it out this summer with more than just the memories from his bedroom, and he’d make it through whatever else life would throw at him, as long as he had you by his side.

Because you didn’t make his heart beat faster out of fear, you made him feel flustered and full of affection.

And you didn’t hold him roughly, with the intent to harm him; you held him delicately, and he could only wait to be able to hold your heart the same way.

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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

Text

You Betrayed Me!

Armando finds out that Betty's "boyfriend" gave her money to invite everyone in her friend group to have lunch.

He nears Patty, Marcela, and Hugo cackling at the expense of Betty, as always, and smiling he asks what they're laughing about, that he too wants to laugh.

"We're talking about Betty's boyfriend." Marcela says calming down from her laugher and Armando's huge smile falls and he displays a pissed off expression. "Ah you don't know she has a boyfriend?" she chuckles.

"Nono I didn't but I'm not interested in the personal life of Beatriz. Who is he?" now his voice is low. However you can tell he is angry but controlling himself.

"I think she doesn't even know it herself." Patty jokes.

"But I am dying to know who he is 'cause that type of species, of people, we need to study. We should stick them in a research laboratory with cameras and when he gets close to give her a kiss he'd grab her by the ears and(proceeds to pucker his lips as if he were sucking in air) all drooling." Hugo insults and laughs.

"Ah! No! I can't imagine anyone could have the balls to kiss her." Marcela laughs and covers her face in disgust.

"Right! Up until now I was convinced that the only thing that could kiss her would be a bat." Patty says.

"Aside from that, the man ia a millionaire!"

Armando turns to look at Marcela and then at Patty.

"Millionaire no. Multi-millionaire. He lent [Betty] money so she could take her friends out to eat to the Corrientazo.(Proceeds to mock Sofia's voice and naming the menu)"

"With so much trickery she managed to get a multi-millionaire. Does she think we're all stupid? As stupid as the supposed multi-millionaire boyfriend she got?" Mean girl cackle.

Armando mouths the 'multi-millionaire" part.

All three of the mean girls laugh or cackle like wenches.

"What's wrong? Ah it's because in front of Armando you can't talk bad about Beatriz."

"Ah Armando one thing, why don't you tell that moscorrofio to introduce you to her rich boyfriend that way you can make business with him and get money to run me my check."

"Ha-ha-ha. You're all super funny today. "

"See he doesn't even believe it that Beatriz found a rich boyfriend"

Hugo complains about not getting paid so bla bla bla.

The camera then switches to Armando being centered, head down, staring ahead under his brows, nostrils flared, lips tight, and his classic hand passing lightly over his hair as we hear a menacing voice:

"I'm going to kill Beatriz Pinzón Solano."

One thing is for sure here: Armando's ego is being dragged through the mud.

The arrows thrown at Betty end up hitting him as he is the one that has the balls to kiss(in his imagination AA) her.

As they insult, ridicule, and make fun of Betty and her boyfriend Armando is getting a taste of what he's afraid of. The ridicule and social embarrassment he'd face if he were to ever be seen with Betty as his girlfriend out in public. His reputation is important to him and he is afraid of being laughed at and he's now seeing it. He is witnessing first hand what he knows people in his social circle will say behind his back and Betty's.

Now it does upset him and he is angry that Betty has a boyfriend as everytime he hears that he has the exact same expression: Anger disguised as disinterest.

When Patty mentions that he[Nic] is a multi-millionaire his anger now centers in disbelief and betrayal.

Swiftly he turns to Hugo and with a smile on his face until he hears again "multi-millionaire" and he turns to Marcela, mouths the words and stares at her.

The phrase that comes to mind is "stomach tied in knots." but not in a good way. He looks tense, pissed off, hurt, and scared.

All these emotions center around Betty and her "boyfriend". Why would Armando feel betrayed? Why does he feel hurt? Why is he pissed off? Especially more when money is mentioned?

Money for men is power. The more you have the better you are. It's seen as a sign of being untouchable, stronger, more important, and better than everyone else.

Men use money to boost their ego and feel better about themselves. So for him to hear that Betty's boyfriend is a multi-millionaire is a kick to his ego, but also his fear that Nicolas is turning Betty against him and by consequences will take away his money therefore it would make Nicolas Mora better than him.

Now Betty's friends suck.

They constantly use her to make fun of Patty. They never respect her privacy or her wishes to maintain her personal life secret from others in Eco Moda and are always so nosy in her business.

They care more about their ego than they do about Betty's wishes or feelings.

Even Bertha tells Betty that she can't deny them the pleasure of rubbing it in Patty's face that Betty has a boyfriend.

The only ones that show some kind of redemption are Mariana, Aura Maria, and at times Inesita.

Because of them the hostility of Armando and his distrust of Nicolas is fed. As they constantly spread false information and use Betty's intimacy as a pawn without caring about the consequences. They suck.

Betty leaves a lollipop on Armando's desk.

As Armando enters his office we can see the lollipop on his desk.

Why does such a simple object hold such meaning in this scene?

Betty exits her office.

"Did you eat well?"She speaks in a peaceful tone.

"Mhmm" he avoids her.

"Sir, I need you to sign this paper for the legalization of the money Terra Moda paid to your family." Armand snatches the paper from her hand to sign and then throws it at her. "Thank you." Betty looks at the paper. "I have some really good news! Regarding the sells report and with the advances that Mr. Mario Calderon managed to get we are able to cover the overdraft with the bank and pay everyone tomorrow."

Armando slowly looks up at Betty, under his brows he gives her a dead stare. "What joy, no? Beatriz." he says sarcastically.

Confused Betty stops smiling and stands up.

"I knew you'd like the news." she walks towards her office and then returns " Sir may I ask you a question?"

"Mhm."

"Are you upset with me?" Armando, again slowly looks up at her.

"If i'm upset with you?" He laces his fingers in front of him, head tilted towards her, eyes dead focused on her. "No." he rest his elbow on his desk while he makes his hand into a fist, moves his right arm to rest behind him on his chair. "I'm not upset with you, Beatriz." He blinks rapidly. "It doesn't upset me at all for you to go around the halls of Eco Moda to shout to the four winds that you've got a rich boyfriend. That doesn't bother me." he is angry. Now he already discussed the situation with the Love Guru himself and they drew the conclusion that Betty was referring to Nicolas and Armando. We know that he was jealous, both economically and emotionally.

"Me?"

He stands up quickly, picks up the lollipop and starts to gesture pointing at himself and moving his hands in the air in front of him. "No! Me! Me! Beatriz you said you have a rich boyfriend." he leans on his desk towards Betty and hisses at her. "You told Patricia."

"I haven't said anything, Sir."

"No. I said it. " He walks from behind his desk to stand behind Betty. "Since I'm the one with a rich boyfriend! Beatriz you're lying to me. "He shakes the lollipop in the air. "and what pisses me off the most are lies. You did tell Patricia Fernandez in the hall that you have a rich boyfriend and I asked you a favor, to please not tell anyone about this-this-what we have, our relationship, yes. "he jerks to see behind him. "that it wasn't going to leave the both of us, right. You started talking about it. You tricked me! You betrayed me! You betrayed me, Dammit! You Betrayed me!" he angrily throws the lollipop onto the floor.

"Sir, I swear to you by the most sacred thing in my life that I didn't say anything. Allow me to explain. We[the secs.] were all waiting for the elevator and I told them I'd invite(lunch would be on her) out to eat because they're really low on money and I had taken out sixty thousand pesos from the petty cash fund to help them. In that moment Patricia showed up and overheard the conversation and started attacking me, asking where I had gotten the money, as if insinuating that I had stolen it from Eco Moda. So then they, to defend me, started to yell at her that I didn't have any need to have stolen that money and that I earn a really good salary and am a really good administrator and outside of that, Bertha said that I have a rich boyfriend but I've already explained, Sir, that she is always nagging me about Nicolas Mora."

"It's cause you told them you are committed or in a relationship with Nicolas Mora. Or what's going on, Beatriz?"

"Um nonono, Sir, how do you draw that conclusion? I haven't said any of that. Bertha said that to mortify Patricia but again, I repeat, I don't have anything with Nicolas Mora, no more than a friendly and work related relationship" she smiles nervously.

Armando stands up from his desk and walks behind it.

"Look Betty this isn't right. I don't like for people to be making assumptions or speculating. You shouldn't have said that, neither Bertha or anyone else. I don't want what we have to be jeopardized or that there's a rich boyfriend around. I don't like that, understand me."

"Yes sir. I talked to them already and asked them to not bother me about Nicolas Mora and they'll do it. Besides I don't have anything with Nicolas. In any case I want you to excuse me because of all of this and I want us to stand clear that I have word and I'll die before I don't fulfil it. I'm never going to betray you, Mister. I am incapable of breaking something so sacred to me. Do you believe me, Sir?"

"Yes, I believe you."

"It just that for me it's really important that you believe me."

"Yes I believe you."

"Do you swear?"

"I swear, swear, swear. I believe you, I swear!"

"Thank you, sir."

This was a heavy scene.

Armando is furious. He can't sit or stand still. This isn't for show. He truthfully feels this.

Betty is nervous and scared. She stands still, only moving when Armando nears her.

The lollipop actually plays a huge role here. It is a symbol of Betty's affection(just like chocolate bar that he shared with Mario). When Armando hastily picks it up, he is holding her affection. As he waves it in the air he is questioning it. As he throws it on the floor he is discarding it.

This represents Armando's furry and how quickly he is to react to it. He doesn't pay attention to consequence or details. He is solely focused on his own pain and yes, he is in pain.

As he repeats over and over again that Betty betrayed him.

Why does he feel betrayed? He talked this out with Mario and they both drew the conclusion that Betty was probably talking about him[Armando](the rich boyfriend). However Armando still feels betrayed.

Let's take a few steps back and break this down to simple actions.

Betty arrives to Eco Moda. She leaves a chocolate bar for Armando on his desk.

Mario and Armando have a briefing where Armando doesn't talk about his feelings and when he does Mario doesn't take him serious so he shuts off and gets angry at him instead.

Betty and him talk. He talks to her sweetly.

Betty's friends use her to make Patricia jealous.

Patricia, Marcela, and Hugo make fun of Betty and insult her and her "boyfriend" while Armando watches and witnesses first hand his biggest fear that keeps him in denial; public humiliation and people talking bad about him behind his back. His ego is bruised.

Mario and Armando discuss this new tabloid. Mario then mocks him by asking if he's jealous. Armando refrains and tells him to get serious.

Betty arrives back to Eco Moda and places a green lollipop on his desk.

Armando arrives to Eco Moda and enters his office.

Betty hands him a paper to sign. He pulls it out of her hand and then throws it at her. He then proceeds to yell(whisper but yelling at the sametime) at her and like a lion paces in his symbolic cage of feelings.

At the peak of this he expresses his true feelings.

Betrayal.

Once again Armando feels bamboozled.

At the start of the day Betty's gift represented hope. It gave him the understanding that things were going well and all of a sudden he finds out that she is "talking" about her rich boyfriend[Nic] to everyone. This causes him to want to murder her. Now when he talks to Mario they conclude that Betty possibly wasn't talking about Nicolas but instead him, Armando. His feeling of betrayal moved from feeling jealousy to now feeling like he can't trust her.

To some degree, not only because he doesn't want to face public humiliation or Marcela finding out about them, Armando does want to continue this relationship with her as it means he removes Nicolas from her life and you know what that means to him. So he does want to keep it tight lid.

However Armando has a problem, he can't control his rage. He can keep himself composed in front of people he doesn't want to give a bad impression to but with people he sees every day he has no problem exploding on them. This is the one emotion he is never shy to show.

Now as he stares at Betty, the one who he has trusted so much, as a potential liar, someone who could have broken his trust, he feels deep anger and hurt. He believes that she isn't respecting his wishes and worst of all playing him.

Her gift now though still represents her affection, is something he no longers cares for in his furry or how he treats it.

As she explain her side of the story he inspects her. He is suspicious and watching her closely.

Now seeing things from Betty's side. She is now looking at the man she has worked so hard for, to prove her worth, her important role in the company and his life, who has worked so hard for his trust, question her, it causes her a deep anguish.

She clarifies things but she needs him to believe her. She needs him to trust in her, to see her, to not question her integrity, to not pull away.

This is similar to the time that Betty confessed that RagTela had offered her a 10% commission and because at this point things were vastly less complicated for Armando emotionally, he listened to her and he showed that he trusted her. However this time Armando now agitated and frustrated over the whole situation tells her "I swear, swear, swear! I believe you, I swear!" because he wants the conversation over.

This isn't enough for Betty but she takes his word. You can tell she feels awful about the whole situation.

People that tend to not show emotion, live in denial of them, and basically just avoid them tend to feel extremely exhausted when we are placed in emotional settings. Be it an argument or just a conversation that is heavily rooted in emotions we tend to burn out quickly and just want the entire thing done with.

Armando is the exact way except he doesn't have the luxury of taking some time off to recharge emotionally like many of us do. For months this man has been on an emotional rollar coaster with the company and now in his personal life.

When Mario shows up to his office we can clearly see a very tired Armando.

Betty isn't like that. Though she knows how to control her emotions, she wears her heart on her sleeve with the people close to her. She isn't afraid to show her affection, though afraid to speak of them she is, Betty still wants people to believe in her.

Again though Betty and Armando are similar in a lot of ways the way they react is what sets them apart. Betty faces her problems and she finds ways to fix them. That's who she is. She explains her side of the story to clear the air but mostly because she doesn't want Armando to not trust her. His trust in her means a lot to her. It's what she has worked so hard for.

So while he is emotionally exhausted at the end of their argument, Betty isn't. Betty is hurting and afraid once again of what it all means.

#beatriz pinzon solano #betty pinzón solano #beatriz pinzón solano #betty #betty ysblf #yo soy betty la fea #betty la fea #armando ysblf #armando mendoza #don armando #analysis of ysblf #marcela valencia #mario calderon

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heytherejulietx · 4 years

Text

Fine ~ Jughead Jones

Masterlists

Requests are OPEN

Notes - (Requested anonymously through messages) hiiiiii! i saw your riverdale fics and thought they were amazing, so i wondered if you could do a jughead x fem!reader where the reader is sick but doesn’t want to admit it. it can go any direction you want really, but just to the point where she ends up getting worse or passing out or something so jughead has to take care of her. something fluffy and comforting! Thanks for the request lovely anon! I hope you like it!

Warnings - Mentions of sickness.

Word count - 1.5k.

The dull throb behind her eyes as soon as she'd woken up had Y/N groaning quietly as she rolled over, burying her face in her soft pillow before pulling the sheets up to be over her head. The feeling of sickness wasn't foreign to her at all, so as soon as she came to the realisation that her sinuses were blocked and she was a lot hotter than usual, she put two and two together to form the conclusion that she was sick.

It was so extremely tempting to just drift back off to sleep. Her eyelids felt like they had weights attached to them, keeping them from opening for more than a few seconds at a time. And the sheets were so comforting despite how uncomfortable her body was, if she just relaxed for long enough then maybe she could drift off back to sleep...

"Y/N!" Her mother's voice came from the other side of her bedroom door, followed by a banging on the wood. "You'll be late for school! Hurry up and get dressed and I'll drive you!"

A groan passed the girl's lips before she called out a weak response of agreement, afterwards dragging herself out of bed to get dressed.

It took longer than usual to get ready for the day, and much longer than she'd have liked. Her head felt ten times heavier than usual, making her almost lose her balance countless times as she got dressed. The thumping of her head never stopped, so before leaving her bedroom she took two headache pills and downed some water, hoping to at least feel better once she'd gotten to school.

She didn't.

If anything she felt worse. The bright fluorescent lights of the school corridors made her head hurt even more, the loud noise of the many student voices just adding to the ache it caused behind her eyes and across her head. By the time she'd gotten to her locker, she was just about ready enough to go home. Though she knew she couldn't. Her parents were at work and in a rush to get out of her house, she'd left her key behind.

Y/N's eyebrows were furrowed as she pulled open her locker door. Her fingers fumbled with the zip on her bag as she pulled her books out, too distracted not to see her boyfriend approaching her. Though she looked up when she heard the locker beside hers creak under the weight put on it as he'd leaned against it, her tired eyes meeting a pair of baby blue ones.

"Are you okay?" Jughead asked with a frown, picking up on the fact that something was wrong due to her unusually disheveled look - a pair of leggings and one of his hoodies that she'd managed to steal at some point or another.

"Yeah I'm fine. Just tired." She forced a smile as she shut her locker, not wanting to worry him.

"You're a bad liar, you know?" He informed. His only response was given in her letting out a quiet sigh and a hum as she moved to wrap her arms around his frame, her smaller body leaning into his taller one. Despite his obvious concern he just leaned down to press his slightly-chapped lips against the crown of her head, hugging her back gently.

Despite her discomfort, Y/N smiled once she was encased in her boyfriend’s arms, breathing in his scent and relaxing into the boy’s hold. She wanted nothing more than to just drift off in his arms in either her bedroom or his, it would just make her day a lot better. Though her thoughts and their moment was broken by the sudden ringing of the bell, causing her to silently wince as the noise shot through her head as painfully as a bullet.

“I’ve got math first, but I’ll see you at lunch?” Jughead asked softly after pulling away from the hug, his hand lifting to cup the side of her face.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at lunch.” She smiled as she leaned into his hand a little.

He gently pressed a quick kiss to her lips before another being left against her forehead, the boy reluctantly letting her go before turning to walk down the corridor to his first class. Y/N watched him walk away before sighing and walking in the opposite direction to hers.

Sadly, her day didn’t get much better. She ended up falling asleep through most of her first two classes, and she would’ve slept in the third if it wasn’t for her strict teacher who threatened to send her to Principal Weatherbee’s office if she put her head down on the desk. By the time lunch had rolled around, she was almost on the verge of tears. She could never handle being sick too well, and that paired with the constant throbbing headache and discomfort was almost pushing her over the edge.

Thankfully, the Scooby Gang had chosen to sit outside for lunch. The quieter and cooler atmosphere did make her feel a little easier, though it did nothing to stop how she felt. Her lips were clamped shut as she moved over to the table where everyone else was, knowing if she tried to speak then she’d probably just start crying.

“Y/N are you okay? You look horrible.” Betty frowned in concern, Veronica matching her expression as the two girls watched the third take a seat beside her boyfriend, who immediately put his arm around her.

Instead of answering Betty, Y/N put her tray of food on the table and turned to press her body into Jughead’s. She hid her face in the collar of his burgundy sweater as the uncontrollable tears started falling, causing her to just hold onto him tighter.

“Y/N/N?” The boy asked softly, feeling her grip on him tightened when he’d attempted to lift her head up to look at him. “Hey, love what’s wrong?”

Y/N just shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to quieten the tears. It did nothing, though, as a moment later the silent tears had escalated to proper crying so Jughead felt each small shake of her body as she did so.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He said softly, taking her bag and putting it over his shoulder as well as hers as he gently helped the girl - who was still gripping onto him - out of her seat. He bid a quick and quiet goodbye to the rest of his friends before his arm fell around her again, keeping his girlfriend close to his body as he walked with her.

Y/N wasn’t really paying attention, so she wasn’t sure when exactly he’d managed to speak to Ms. Belle at the front desk, but soon enough he was walking her out of the front doors of the school and towards the parking lot.

“What’s wrong, love?” Jughead asked quietly, his hand gently rubbing her arm as they walked.

“My head really hurts and I feel horrible.” Y/N whimpered, breaking out of the act of being fine.

“Okay, lets get you to bed, okay? You’ll be there before you know it.” Jughead promised, using his spare hand to pull out his keys from his pocket before unlocking his dad’s truck. He thanked his lucky stars he’d decided to take the truck instead of his motorbike; he couldn’t imagine how much worse he’d make her headache if she had to ride on a bike.

Y/N must have drifted off a little in the journey home, because before she knew it she was sat in Jughead’s he’d at his trailer in one of his shirts and some of his sweats, taking some pills that the boy had handed her before curling into his side, her red-rimmed and slightly swollen eyes falling shut.

“Why didn’t you just stay in bed today?” Jughead asked softly, his fingers gently combing through her hair as he spoke, his other arm secured around her waist.

“I took pills this morning, I thought it’d go away.” Y/N mumbled, listening as Jughead sighed before tightening his hold on her subtly.

“Next time stay in bed okay? You really worried me today.” Jughead muttered, pressing a kiss to his girlfriend’s hairline.

Y/N turned in his arm to have her face pressed against his chest, her arms snaked around his waist as she snuggled into him. “Yes boss.” She mumbled quietly, already on the verge of falling asleep.

“You’re exhausted, go to sleep.” Jughead said softly. “I love you.”

Y/N smiled tiredly, nodding a little. “I love you too.” She whispered. “Thank you.” She muttered, letting her body relax against his, before she was out like a light not a moment later.

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anatrik · 4 years

Text

Folklore feels like summers spent in your hometown, wandering barefoot with your best friend all day, coming home to sweet tea set on the porch. You slouch in a deck chair, watching the sun set, your grandmother's soft voice rising and falling beside you.

She tells stories, histories of the people you see everyday, Old Man James and his Betty. James and Betty, Betty and James who'd been together so long everyone thought of them as two halves of a single unit, a living breathing forevermore. But Grammy remembers...there was once another girl. A girl, with startling green eyes and a heart of fire and desire. A girl, shamefully wronged, disregarded, brushed under the carpet with all the lint, lost socks and cardigans, things we wish to forget. The girl everyone remembers and no one mentions.

Rebekah.

And you listen in wide eyed silence, trying to reconcile the image of the bluff honest old man with that of a dark haired philanderer, trying to picture Mrs. Betty- who still looks at her husband like she sees the 17 year old boy she fell in love with- huddled under the bleachers as Mrs. Inez (that old bat?!) confirms that the rumours are true, trying to imagine what the woman would've looked like, this Rebekah, who'd been able to steal a man's eyes from 'Betty the Beauty' and coming up with a blank because some things simply defy imagination.

"How?", you whisper in a strangled voice

"How can she bear to even look at him?"

Grammy smooths a hand over your tousled head and smiles at how young you are, how black and white the world you live in, how innocent.

Because invisible strings tie us to our fates. Because Betty knew the other girl and the shitty hand life had dealt her. Because James had been 17 and hadn't known a single thing. Or maybe, it was something as simple as a sorry at the right time by the right person for the right reasons.

And the other girl? You want to ask. But it feels wrong somehow, after all these years, her memory still tainted, her grave still fresh, her presence always felt.

Grammy hears the question anyway-she always does. Her voice grows softer, her words come out hoarse and laced with bitterness. And she tells you, about a runaway who had left home by moonlight with a twenty dollar bill and the clothes on her back, how she slept her way through bus stops and shady motel rooms, greedy fingered old men who had breathed in her desperation like it was the finest of perfumes. About a lost girl who didn't know better and the men who should have. How finally one summer, she had stumbled into a sleepy little town, 1989 miles away from where she had started, a ghost town she'd thought, marvelling at the silence. And then...him. They had talked politics and got drunk under the streetlights, spent weekends together and he'd made her feel special, kissed all her aches better, really truly saw her. For the first time she felt like she could maybe put down roots, here where the grass was green and the skies purple pink and blue, here where she had been happy for the first time. And then, when the wind turned and the evenings grew longer, he'd finally touched her and it had felt like a goodbye. When she woke up twisted in the empty bedsheets, she was alone. All of August slipped away into a memory .

The school year was a knife to the chest, her love had relegated her to the shadows, abandoned her to the whispers and side eyes. They called her a bad girl, a mad woman, a whore, nothing she hadn't heard before but nothing ever really prepares you to hear it again.

"What happened to her?" you ask in a hushed voice.

She left. The day of James and Betty's wedding, the whole town and it's cousins were at the church, no one missed the freak. She went back to the city she'd run from, back to that house of horrors, the demons had long since died but their ghosts remained in the walls. But she knew what it was to live with ghosts. She wasn't one to fear things that couldn't touch her.

She worked her way through med school, threw herself into her work, reckless, passionate, determined and burned like a star in a sky full of streetlights.

Then came the great war of men, what your history textbooks called the second world war.

"You were there too?" you whisper in awe.

Yes. I was posted with the 104th infantry. It's where I met your grandfather.

She speaks of the guns and the smoke, the trenches of blood and broken men, the white curls darken and the wrinkles fall away, you see your soft Grammy, but also the steely young nurse she had once been.

She speaks of a young soldier, Bill, and a love set to a soundtrack of artillery fire, uncertainty and prayers. A love neither easy nor inevitable, that they had fought for tooth and nail because it was all either of them had.

She tells me of their early days, back when Bill was just one among a thousand struggling young men,the times she almost ran because it was the only thing she knew. How after a particularly vicious fight he had come after her to find her stood on the cliffside, angry, unsure, screaming at him to give her one fucking reason. How he had slowly unpicked the messy knots in her head where love and lies were so entwined she couldn't tell one from the other. How she'd warned him of the storms that lived within her and he'd weathered through them all. How she had finally found it in herself to believe again.

And then the homecoming, the city life wasn't for them and Grammy had missed the sea. So they'd packed their bags, said goodbye to St.Louis by moonlight. Then the house on the beach, parties straight out of Gatsby, card games with Dali. The quiet moments in Grandpa Bill's arms. Their new neighbours, James and Betty who had moved back home to raise their family. How James would sometimes look at her like he was seeing someone else or maybe a reflection of the man he could've been. How whenever that happened Betty's lips would tighten imperceptibly. How he always snapped out of it. Every single time. He always went back to his Betty. Bill would tell a joke to smooth over the tense silence, the moment would pass. Everything would come back to normal. Then she had your mother, your uncle, your other uncle, their dog, Benjamin, Grandpa Bill's heart-attack, the stories start running together and before you know it gentle arms are carrying you to your bed, a soft I love you goes unanswered, summer ends, it's time to go back home.

When you come back next, the porch is empty, no sweating jug of sweet tea on the table. The house is crowded and smells of roses- Grammy hated roses- and expensive perfumes. There's too much black everywhere- Grammy hated black- you search for a familiar face in the sea of weeping strangers and find none. You huddle close to where Grammy lies. She looks so peaceful. Just like you remember from the last day of summer. People come up every few minutes, mumbling words of comfort to your mother as your uncles stand by stoically. No one says a word to Grammy, which is pretty rude you think considering she's the reason they're all here. They hover uncertainly, then attempt to drift away inconspicuously. Mrs. Betty and Old man James are among the last, you look up curiously trying to see beyond the ill fitting suit and the balding grey head, but whoever James had been at 17, was long gone. He stands for a long time, his head bowed, tears slowly dripping down the tip of his nose. He doesn't say a word to your mother. He doesn't say a word to anyone. But from where you sit you can see his lips moving, the same word again and again, like a prayer, Betty, Betty, Betty. You wonder why he'd be talking to his wife right now. But then you see Betty's mouth tighten.

Becky, Becky, Becky...

Grammy.

Rebekah.

Thank you. For folklore. For these stories. For everything. @taylorswift

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 4 years

Text

Thin Ice Pt 3 || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: The decathlon team gets snowed in and room 401 and 412 decide to play truth or dare.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s note: Wowie this took a long time to write but I’m glad I finally finished it!! Hope everyone is safe and remember, if you need toilet paper, just use the shower to wipe your ass!

Warning: Swearing, teen drinking, mentions of sex, forced kiss kinda

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || to be continued

Cindy rummaged through her luggage as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, spamming through Flash’s insta-stories of the day. MJ laid down right beside you on the hotel bed, making a quick joke about how he probably buys his followers.

You had all just eaten dinner and the chaperones had made their last rounds visiting rooms when the news of an incoming blizzard was heading straight towards the resort. It wasn’t meant to cause any damage but your whole trip itinerary would have to be pushed back a day or two depending on when the blizzard would stop.

You were slightly glad that this storm had decided to roll through because that meant that when it cleared up, there would be hardly anyone on the slopes so you could snowboard without the fear of running into a child on skis.

“ Found it! Who wants to go first?” Cindy asked as she pulled out her bag that was filled with various facemasks.

You and MJ both looked up for a second before turning back to your phone screen unphased.

“ I’ll pass. Last night you made me try it and I couldn’t wash off the pink tint. I looked like a freaking pokemon,” You shivered as MJ laughed beside you.

Cindy got up from her spot on the floor and plopped down beside you, grabbing the phone away from your hands.

You protested as she held the phone above her head, catching a glimpse of your case,” Seriously? A spiderman phone case? Are you and Flash a part of some creepy fangirl club?”

MJ watched as you leaped up and snatched your phone from Cindy quickly, immediately turning it off in the process. You looked at the nightstand beside you as you laid back onto the bed, pointing to her phone that was charging.

“ Oh so you rather me have a hello kitty one?” You teased as you lightly pushed Cindy away with your foot,” what are you twelve?”

Cindy wasted no time and grabbed your foot and pulled you off the bed, causing you to let out a yelp. You landed on your butt as MJ peeked over the bed to make sure you were okay. Once she saw that you were fine, she just shook her head at the two of you and laid back on the bed.

“ Hello Kitty is for all ages thank you very much,” Cindy defended as she sat down on the bed and held up a blue container,” Come on MJ. This is a collagen one from Korea and you know us Asians have great skin.”

MJ rolled her eyes at Cindy but sat up from her spot,” Fine, as long as Y/N does it too.”

After a minute of whining, you and MJ both found yourself sitting upright with a scented sheet mask covering your face. You continued to scroll through Instagram when Betty entered the room holding the ice bucket to her chest.

“ Guess who I just ran into?” Betty asked excitedly as you all perked up,” and might I say, a girl might be catching feelings.”

“ What? Are you talking about Mr. Harrington?” Cindy laughed as Betty put down the ice bucket and stuck her tongue out in disgust.

“ Gross! I mean I did see Mr. Harrington going to the jacuzzi but I’m talking about Ned! Since the chaperones already checked the rooms for lights out, he’s thinking we can all hang out in our room!”

“ Who’s we?” MJ asked as Betty started to clean up her clothes from off the floor.

“ Everyone in his room so Flash, Brad, Peter, and obviously Ned. What else are we gonna do all night?” Betty asked as you pointed to your face.

“ Um hello? Facemasks and talking shit all night sounds like the perfect plan to me,” You shrugged as you turned on your phone and looked through your messages,” plus what if we get in trouble? You know Mr. Harrington will have an aneurysm if he finds four boys and four girls in one room.”

You were already in a weird spot with Brad since this afternoon and you knew that he was the type to hold grudges. You couldn’t imagine being in a room with him and all his attitude but at the same time, you wanted to hang out with Peter.

Betty zipped up her luggage and put it in the corner next to the other mini-fridge,” Y/N, I know you didn’t go but we almost died on our last two trips. Considering all that happened, I think us watching a movie and playing charades with a bunch of science nerds will be harmless.”

Sometimes you envied how everyone seemed to bond over the last two trips for the decathlon team but then you remembered the falling elevator story at the Washington Monument and the droid attack at the Tower Bridge in London. While no one died, you were glad you weren’t apart of that “bonding experience” and you knew if you wanted to bond with people, you would stick to just trust falls exercises.

“ In that case, I call dibs on Flash!” Cindy shouted as she raised her hand promptly, earning a confused look from everyone in the room,” What? Have you seen his house? Securing Flash means securing his bank account and I’m trying to financially invest in my future.”

“ Then I call Brad!” Betty raised her hand but lowered it when she made eye contact with you,” wait nevermind. I forgot about how close you and Brad are.”

“ First off, it’s 2020, we’re not claiming anyone,” you said as Betty rolled her eyes,” secondly, you can have him. I’m not interested in him or any guy right now.

It was half true. You couldn’t care less about Brad going out with someone, even if it was one of your best friends and the idea of you and Brad together made you feel so uncomfortable.

You didn’t really have a crush on anyone but there was something about Peter that made you drawn to him. You didn’t know if that meant you had a crush or not but when the idea of him coming into your room and seeing you in a face mask in your pajamas made you feel embarrassed.

Before Betty could confront you with your lie, you all turned your heads when you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart stopped and now you weren’t sure if you were more nervous to see Peter or Brad.

Betty calmly made her way over to the door even though you knew she was a nervous wreck on the inside. Once you heard the boys start to come in, you took off your facemask and rubbed in whatever moisturizing element it had left.

MJ had done the same but instead of throwing hers away, she made it into a soggy ball and threw it at Flash, who shrieked in disgust.

“ Did we miss the sexy pillow fight?” Brad asked as he smiled at you, almost like he hadn’t gotten mad earlier.

You decided to let whatever happened this morning slide but once you caught eyes with Peter, you felt anxious.

“ Hey, we’re twinning!” You said as you pointed to your Harry Potter pajama shorts and Peter’s sweatpants to try and calm your nerves,” I never pegged you as a Gryfindor Pete.”

Peter looked down at his pants and chuckled lightly,” I never thought I was either.”

He wasn’t going to lie, he wore those on purpose cause MJ had texted him that you had a similar pair in your luggage and he liked the idea of you two matching.

“ Is that alcohol? How did you sneak that onto the trip?” Cindy asked as she grabbed the bottle from Flash’s hands,” We could get in so much trouble.”

“ Only if we get caught,” Flash said as he opened up his backpack and brought out plastic cups.

He passed one around to Ned and Betty but when he came to Peter, he just stopped and scoffed,” Are you sure you can handle your liquor? The girls probably have some apple juice in the fridge for you to drink.”

Truth be told, Peter couldn’t handle his liquor at all but that was before he had powers. Now, he could forever say goodbye to hangovers and embarrassing drunk encounters.

It wasn’t like he was a big drinker pre or even post-spider bite but his body operated differently than a regular teenager so instead of passing out after two shots of Remy Martin, he could easily call himself a heavyweight.

“ I think I’ll be okay,” Peter said plainly as he practically ripped the stack of plastic cups out of Flash’s hand causing Flash to flinch.

Peter passed one to you as you hesitantly took it from his hands. You were second-guessing everything and you weren’t sure if it was the paranoia of getting caught or the mix of alcohol amongst the group.

Brad watched you from his seat on the ground and shook his head, letting out a tsk from his lips,” You’re not fooling anyone Y/N, you don’t drink.”

The hell was that supposed to mean?

Brad knew you all too well, you almost made it through high school without drinking (with the exception of your aunt’s wedding where they served champagne) and you didn’t want to ruin your streak now.

At the same time, peer pressure was real and while no one was asking you to drink, you still felt like you almost had to.

You shrugged and handed out your cup to Cindy so she could pour some of the Smirnoff into it,” There’s a first time for everything I guess.”

Everyone took a seat on the ground in a circle, with Peter on your left and MJ on your right. Brad and Betty both made a toast and before you knew it, you took a sharp sip of your drink and coughed after you swallowed it.

“ Yeah, okay that freaking sucks,” You cringed as you put your cup down beside you.

You felt better knowing that Flash and Betty both had the same reaction but you were a bit surprised how easily Peter took down the shot. Peter noticed you from the corner of his eye and pretended to shudder, even though it almost tasted like water to him.

After about a half an hour of mingling and drinking amongst yourselves, you could already feel the alcohol running through your system. You didn’t feel nauseous but if someone had asked you to spin around in a circle, it wouldn’t end pretty.

You watched from your spot on the office chair as Brad made his way over to you, smiling wide.

Here he goes, you thought as he sat down on the desk and looked down at you.

“Y/N, you look mad.”

“ I’m chill but clearly something upset you this morning,” You said as Brad shrugged plainly and took another sip,” what’s been up with you? You’ve been dodging me all day.”

From the outside, Brad looked fine like any other tipsy teenager but you knew better. There was something behind his eyes and you could literally see the gears spinning in his mind.

“ I can’t be protective of you?” He asked as you responded with a confused mm as you took another small sip of your drink,” obviously I’m talking about you know who.”

You watched Brad’s gaze fall over to Peter, who was sitting on the bed beside MJ and Cindy deep in a conversation. You rolled your eyes and you gave Brad an unconvinced look.

You were many things but being someone who needs protection was definitely not one of them. You knew Brad long enough to know that he had never cared about any guy being around you but for some reason, he was so threatened by Peter.

You knew if you said it out loud, Brad would just get madder like earlier but deep down, you knew he was jealous. What made you even more upset was that this jealousy practically came out of nowhere and you and Peter only started to hang out just this morning.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your pure frustration alone but once you opened your mouth, any chance of having a PC filter was gone,“ You don’t have to worry about Peter, he’s a good guy. I like him so do me a favor and stay in your lane.”

Before Brad even had the chance to reply, Flash grabbed the bottle off the dresser and sat down in the center of the hotel floor.

“ Lets play something cause I’m bored as hell. How about a friendly game of spin the bottle?” Flash suggested as everyone was adamant on playing something else,” you guys are so lame, would you rather play truth or dare?”

MJ poured herself another small amount and handed the bottle to Ned, who immediately passed the bottle away from him.

“ That’s so cliche,” MJ groaned as she looked down at her cup before taking it all down,” but I’m in. If you don’t want to answer or do the dare, you gotta take a shot no matter what.”

You shifted in your seat and mentally cursed. You hated truth or dare and frankly, it was the dumbest game to suggest especially since you knew that most of the group wouldn’t be down to do a dare that was too risky.

On the other hand, you were the type to always pick truth because you rather let people know your deep dark secrets than lick a toilet seat.

After a few rounds of Flash running through the hallway in just his underwear and of MJ switching clothes with Brad, it was Betty’s turn to pick who was next.

“ Okay, my turn... Ned,” Betty said, catching Ned off guard,” Truth or dare?”

Ned looked around and shrugged, looking visibly uncomfortable,” Truth I guess.”

“ Do you want to get back together with me?”

You were the only one to gasp and you covered your mouth in shock when you realized no one else had the same reaction,” Sorry I- you guys dated? Since when?”

“ Oh right I forgot to tell you, we were a couple during the Europe trip but it ended when the trip did. You really missed a lot,” Betty explained as she moved her attention back to Ned, waiting for a response.

Ned looked at Peter who only nudged him back in response which made the situation even more awkward. Instead of answering the question, Ned took down his shot like a champ and shook his head,” I’m not falling for that one.”

The room busted out in ooos as Betty’s face grew red. She quickly composed herself and poured herself another drink,” Your turn then.”

Ned looked at Peter as if he was asking for permission but Peter shook his head. Peter knew Ned wanted to be a good wingman but Ned tended to take the title too seriously and go overboard.

“ Okay then I’ll pick Peter,” Ned said as Peter’s hands started to feel even more sweaty than before,” Truth or Dare.”

If it was anyone else asking Peter, he could easily choose Truth and move on with the game but because Ned was in control and knew too much about his crush on you, he was worried that something would slip.

“ D-Dare,” Peter stuttered as he cleared his throat, his eyes locked on Ned as if he was pleading to have a normal dare that didn’t involve you.

Ned smiled and looked over in your direction as his plan started to come together.

“ I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

The room grew silent for only a moment before it bursted out in mixed conversations. All eyes were on Peter and he could feel how hot his ears were burning from embarrassment.

Peter tried to play it off and lifted his cup in the air,” I’m definitely not doing that.”

Cindy groaned from her seat and sat up on her knees,” Come on Peter, it’s just a kiss. It’s not like it’s your virginity or anything.”

“Cindy!” Betty smacked Cindy’s thigh sharply as if she was a child acting up in a grocery store.

“ Ow! I didn’t even say anything bad,” Cindy rubbed her thigh but glanced over at Peter,” I’m sorry but even if you are a virgin, that’s not a bad thing!”

You and Betty both gave Cindy a ‘Stop Talking’ look and you turned to Peter, his face flushed by now.

“ If he doesn’t want to do it, he shouldn’t be forced to,” Flash said as he leaned over and poured a shot out for Peter,” but just for the record, he totally would’ve kissed Y/N.”

“ N-No I wouldn’t!” Peter stammered, feeling completely mortified.

“ You hear that Y/N,” Brad smirked as he looked between you and Peter,” Peter doesn’t think you’re pretty. I on the other hand-”

“ That’s not true!” Peter shouted over Brad as he turned to you sympathetically,” Y/N I-I do think you’re pretty!”

“ Um, thanks Peter, you too,” you said simply as you tried to catch up to the conversation.

If you could be honest, you felt like you were on a five-second lag thanks to how much you had been drinking and you weren’t processing what everyone was saying as well as you should’ve. You weren’t really paying any attention to the conversation until you heard the word virginity and your name. What you did notice the whole night was Brad’s small attempts to get you a bit annoyed while flirting at the same time.

Since you two had been friends for so long, you knew how he operated and whenever Brad liked someone, he would always make little jabs as if girls fell for that kind of stuff. You needed to get him alone to set him straight because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship over his small crush on you.

You shook your head at Brad as he watched you pour yourself another shot that was almost triple of what you took earlier.

“ What were you saying Brad? About Y/N?” Cindy asked as you looked over to Brad who only shrugged.

“ Nothing I was just going to ask Y/N truth or dare,” Brad said as Ned shook his head.

“ No it’s Peter’s turn, those are the rules remember?” Ned insisted as he gave Peter a quick look.

Peter had nothing against Brad but Peter wasn’t stupid or blind either. He clearly had feelings and wasn’t going to waste any time going in for the kill. If it was any other guy then maybe Peter had a chance but Brad Davis? Not only did Brad have an advantage since you two were friends for so long but Brad was practically a clone of you.

You both had similar interests, identical backstories, and the same sense of humor so of course Peter felt threatened.

What was worse was that Peter could tell that Brad knew about Peter’s feelings for you so now, it was almost a competition for Brad.

“ Oh come on, he doesn’t mind,” Brad laughed as he looked at Peter and tilted his head to the side,” do you Pete?”

Peter only nodded as Peter took his shot and crossed his arms over his chest. You weren’t sure why you were feeling particularly bold today but when Brad asked you truth or dare, you chose dare.

“ I dare you to do seven minutes in heaven with me in the restroom.”

You leaned back onto your hands and tilted your head to the side. If it were any other day, you would’ve passed on the offer but this was just a game to Brad. He knew you would say no and that would prompt Brad to make even more jabs towards you for being a prude.

“ Okay Davis, I’ll bite,” You grabbed your cup and drank the whole thing before handing it to Peter,” see you guys on the other side.”

You got up from your seat as Brad followed you closely,” Don’t wait up guys.”

Peter clenched his jaw as Brad gave a thumbs up to Flash who was whooping in celebration.

Once the bathroom door had shut, Flash nudged Betty and stuck his tongue out,“ They’re gonna get down and dirty-”

“ Shut the hell up, Flash!” Peter didn’t even realize he had said it out loud until he noticed that everyone was staring at him.

Peter’s face flushed a deep red and sighed deeply before grabbing his phone and got up from his seat,” It’s late. I’m going to bed.”

Everyone watched as Peter practically stomped out of the room and was fuming from head to toe.

Once you were in the bathroom, you sat up on the counter and looked up at Brad, who just locked the door.

“ I know what you’re doing Brad,” You said as Brad leaned against the counter next to you,” you’ve done this move before on Katelyn Gomez at the homecoming after-party. I’m not stupid.”

Brad smiled innocently as he ran his fingers through his hair,” I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can’t I just have some quiet time with my girl?”

You let out a dry laugh and shook your head, you really couldn’t believe what was happening. You heard the main hotel room door slam shut which made you turn your head to the door. You didn’t hear anything follow up so you turned your attention back to Brad.

“ That’s my point, I’m not your girl,” You motioned between the two of you with your hand,” this is not a thing and will never be a thing.”

Brad acted shocked and placed a hand over his heart as if he was in pain,” Why do you love breaking my heart?”

“ You’re my best friend Brad which is why this can never happen. I mean come on, my mom used to bathe us in the same tub when we were younger!” You exclaimed as Brad shooed your hand away.

“ Okay fine, we have history but there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not asking you to marry me I’m just asking for a chance,” Brad sighed as he moved over and leaned closer to you,” are you really saying that you don’t have feelings for me?”

You looked down at Brad’s hand and back up to his face. Brad looked at you longingly with puppy dog eyes but you were smart and you knew better than to fall for it.

“ I have feelings for you... but not the kind you have for me. I love you Brad but as a friend. I trust you more than anyone else I know and I like being a part of your life,” You watched as Brad nodded softly,” our friendship is so important to me and I don’t want to ruin it.”

For the first time ever, it was like you had left Brad speechless. You could tell how hurt he was and it made your heartache. Brad was never someone to take things so seriously, especially if it was with a girl. Brad could be rude at times and a little too sarcastic for your liking but so were you.

“ I’m sorry,” you said, trying to interrupt the silence between the two of you.

Brad shook his head and bit his lip, a habit that he had been doing since he was six whenever he was nervous,” You don’t have to apologize. I’ve been a dick to you lately and I’m sorry...Can I ask you for something? It’s okay if you say no.”

You nodded and squeezed Brad’s hand,” Yeah, anything.”

“ I know you want us to be friends and I respect that but...do you think I could kiss you?”

You tensed up as you shifted against the counter,” I don’t know Brad..”

“ I’m not asking to make out, I’m just asking for a quick peck on the cheek,” Brad stammered as you nervously bit the inside of your cheek,” pretty please?”

You thought things over in your head but all you could think about was Peter. What would he say if he found out? You shook your head and tried to get Peter out of your head, why would Peter care? Better yet, why were you thinking of Peter right now?

“ Okay, but only if it’s a cheek kiss.”

“ Deal...okay can you close your eyes?” Brad asked as you rolled your eyes but did so anyone.

You sat there with your eyes closed and shook your head,” You’re so weird Davis.”

After a few seconds, you felt Brad move off the counter and scooted between your legs. You felt him place his hands next to your thighs and leaned closer to you,” Ready?”

“ Whatever man just do it. God this is so weird,” you mumbled as you heard Brad count down from 5 to 1.

When he got to you, you expected to feel his lips press up against yours but when you felt his lips against yours, you opened your eyes in shock and pushed him away with your hands.

“ What the hell Brad! You said it was a cheek kiss!” You shouted as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand.

“ I-I’m sorry” Brad backed away from you and rushed for the door handle,” I’m going to go.”

Brad didn’t even look at you as walked out of the door, leaving you alone in the bathroom. You couldn’t believe your best friend just kissed you and you were somewhat thankful you felt nothing but disgust from it.

Peter. You rubbed the sides of your temple in frustration as you thought of what would happen if Peter found out. Your heart sunk as you thought of why you didn’t want Peter to know what had happened between you and Brad.

Damn it, you had a crush on Peter. And you were pretty sure he felt the same way.

@holland-in-disguise @yeahimcrying @greatpizzascissorstaco @mysticalbanshee @weyheyavengers @infinityflamesworld @fandom-fangirl22 @peterparkoure @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

618 notes · View notes

soyforramen · 3 years

Note

ooooo 17 and/or 28 for bughead

I am so terribly glad tumblr does not date these, because I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on this draft. Regardless, here goes:

xxx

“Bite me, Jones,” Betty snapped. She screwed her eyes shut and breathed deeply as she counted to ten. No one in Riverdale could get under her skin like he could. And he knew it.

“Make me, Cooper.”

Betty curled her lip and turned away from Jughead Jones and his stupid smirk and his stupid hat. She knew from the start that this whole idea was inane. But because it was Archie’s last birthday in Riverdale, and because she and Jughead were Archie’s best friends, she’d said yes to Jones’ stupid idea to throw a surprise party.

For whatever reason, it hadn’t occurred to Betty that Archie might want a birthday party. Over the years they’d fallen into such a routine it almost felt too close to sacrilege to change. The day before Archie’s birthday, he and Jughead would disappear to spend all day gorging on junk food and video games until it came time for a midnight creature feature at the Bijou. The day of, Archie would spend his birthday with his parents as Mrs. Andrews always made a point to come back to Riverdale on his birthday. The next following was Betty’s, and it had become their tradition to find new trails to hike around Sweetwater River only to end their day at Pop’s with burgers and shakes.

It was a custody arrangement they’d all been more than happy with ever since Betty had proclaimed her hatred of Jughead Jones in the second grade for making Ethyl cry because he ran away from her the entire week of Valentine’s. And despite Archie’s numerous attempts over the years at a tentative truce, neither Betty nor Jughead could stand the sight of each other for too long.This year, however, Jughead decided to buck the system.

With a party.

For Archie.

Only one week to plan it.

Together.

When Jughead had first mentioned it, Betty assumed he’d do what everyone else did when it came to these things: tell Betty his vision and let her handle everything while still getting partial credit for having come up with the idea in the first place. But apparently she’d underestimated him. Not only had he come up with the idea for a party, he also wanted to help plan it.

Normally Betty would jump at the chance for any sort of event planning help. She’d had to beg, borrow, and blackmail to get any actual help to put together Homecoming and the Spring Formal . And now she had a ready, willing participant who came with his own ideas as to how this party should go.It was as if Fate itself were determined to prove the old adage, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’(Fate, too, could bite her.)The ultimate problem, though, was not the fact that it was Jones’ proposing and helping plan the party. It was not that they both wanted to outdo each other in a childish attempt to prove their superior friendship with Archie. The problem was she had to interact with Jones’ to get this done. It was the most she’d ever had to interact with him since they’d sat at the same square of tables in elementary school and it was a reminder why she’d avoided him ever since. Every idea she had was countered by his own; every suggestion was met with scepticism and budgeting concerns; every minute detail picked apart. Their tastes were too far apart on music, food, and decorations along with everything else it took to plan a party. He was far too sarcastic, too caustic for her. She was too nice, too blithe for his. It was mutual loathing that frustrated Betty every time she had to see him in the hallways. And now she’d agreed to spend most of her free time with him for a week.Archie better fucking love this damn party.

xxx

Monday Morning: 4 Days til B-Day

Today was not Betty Cooper’s day. She’d forgotten about the essay due in History class because she’d been consumed with scholarship applications and making decorations for Polly’s wedding. She’d dropped a beaker of acid on her shoes in lab class and now had to wander around in the ugliest, grossest pair of crocs the school’s lost and found had to offer. And to top it all off, her hair tie had snapped in gym class, leaving her hair in a tangle of waves that drew attention from everyone for just how messy it was.It took all she had not to skip school for the first time in her life. The only thing stopping her was the inevitable lecture she knew would be waiting at home. If Betty ruined her perfect attendance record three months before graduation, the fit her mother would throw would surely top the one when Polly told her she was unwed and pregnant.And when the tumbler on her locker stuck, it was all she could do not to scream. Finally the lock popped off and the door slammed into its neighbor.“Party planning going well?” Kevin asked from behind. He leaned against the locker bank and leveled all the magnets that had fallen to the bottom of the door.“Yes, actually. That’s the problem,” Betty snapped. She threw her textbooks into the locker, already digging through the three and a half years worth of junk for a hair tie. “I’d say that’s less of a problem, and more of a shoe in to finally free all that hair Jones’ has been hiding from us,” Kevin said with a Hello Kitty magnet suspended between his thumb and forefinger. When Betty rolled her eyes, he clicked his tongue. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. The UST between you two has been at peak level for at least two years.”Betty heaved out a sigh and reached for the top shelf. She tried to imagine herself someplace relaxing and far, far away from here. One of those Swedish spas Veronica was always gushing about. A sunny beach with no one around. An automotive shop that worked exclusively on muscle cars made by Corvette and Ford between 1958 and 1972 somewhere south of Paris, France.“Of course it’s a problem, Kev. It means that not only is he a complete and total asshole, he’s also a competent and capable asshole,” Betty huffed. She grabbed her history book out of her bag and threw it into the locker hard enough to rattle the mirror on the back. “At least you now won’t have to split all your free time between the paper, the party, and practice for the Vixens.”As much as Betty loved him, sometimes she hated how Kevin could always find a positive in every situation and how desperately she hated the fact that Veronica had decided to attend a prep school for her senior year.“We forgot about Veronica,” Betty gasped. Prior frustrations forgotten, Betty tapped away on the screen. Between event planning and the massive extracurricular load her mother insisted on, Betty hardly had any time to think about what she’d get for Archie. There was no way Veronica would forget something as important as Archie’s birthday, but if there was on thing that could throw a wrench into this plan it would be Veronica sweeping Archie off his feet to the Bahamas last minute.Veronica’s reply was almost instantaneous with a string of hearts, followed by several texts grilling Betty for more information about Archie’s relationship status, Riverdale gossip, and whether Betty had finally found herself a boyfriend.Absorbed by her phone, Betty closed her locker and walked to class, Kevin walking beside to her and telling Betty which was the best gossip to pass along to Veronica. As the bell rang, Betty tucked her phone into her jacket pocket and laid out everything she needed for class. Late as usual, Jughead slouched by her on his way to the corner of the room. “Nice hair, Cooper,” he muttered as he passed. “Very Diana Dors today.”Betty’s cheeks went red and her hands flew up to smooth down her hair. She’d been so focused on her conversation with Veronica that the hair tie had been completely forgotten.Kevin leaned across his desk and whispered, “Hashtag: Free the Beanie.”

Xxxxx

Tuesday Afternoon - Party Countdown: Day 3

Betty’s phone chimed on the couch beside her. When she saw who it was from, she groaned. They’d just talked after school about the decorations, and she thought they’d come to an agreement. Jughead, however, seemed to differ.“Beans for brains again?” Cheryl asked, eyes glued to her own phone. “Yes. Now decorations are too ‘childish’,” Betty whined. “Why does he have to make things so difficult.”“Because he has your undivided attention for once, baby cousin.”Betty stared at Cheryl. “What does that mean?”Cheryl rolled her eyes and set down her phone. “Read between the lines, it’s a total Castle and Bennet situation.”Even if she’d been offered the world, Betty still couldn’t figure out what Cheryl meant. With a sigh, Betty packed up her back and headed to Pop’s, figuring it would be easier to meet with him in person than spend three hours going back and forth in text.

Xxxxx

Tuesday Afternoon - Party Countdown: Day 3Betty slammed her lunch tray on the cafeteria table. “I hate him and that stupid grin of his. Like he knows everything. Why did I ever agree to this in the first place?”Kevin moved to the side as Betty swung her leg over the bench to sit down. “Because it’s Archie’s birthday and he’d do the same for you?”Betty snorted. “I doubt he’d work with his mortal enemy to plan me a party.”“True. Because I’d be the one doing the planning. If Archie was doing it there’d be cold pizza and hot ice cream. He’s not big on the planning thing.”Betty stabbed at a piece of fruit and let that sink in. It would be so much easier to let this go, to say she was done with the whole thing and let Jughead finish organizing it. But if she backed out now they’d both know he’d won in the ongoing feud they had. It was frustrating and unnerving and took every last bit of self-control to work with him. He was a constant distraction, taken to staring at her when she was talking and unnerving her by how close he was willing to get. Even stranger, as if he knew just how to get under her skin, he’d sat next to her in English this morning and attempted a semi-polite conversation.“Do I want to ask what’s got her so riled up now?” Toni asked as she sat down. “Jughead’s lips,” Kevin said with a smile.Toni leaned forward, his face eager for more information. “What? Did he kiss you? I thought you two were only supposed to be planning a party.”“Kevin,” Betty scolded. “And no. We can barely stand to be in the same room together. He’s insisted on doing the decorating himself.”Kevin and Toni shared a look. “And that’s bad, how?” Toni asked.“I know you’re used to being in charge of everything, but why is it a problem for him to decorate?” Kevin asked.“Because I was planning on using what we had leftover from Polly’s New Year’s Eve party. It would have been perfect.” Betty said.“What did he say about that?”Betty looked down at her salad and picked at it. “I didn’t exactly mention it.”Toni raised an eyebrow and Kevin let out a heavy sigh.“But obviously if I was pushing to do the decorations, I had a plan,” Betty said, her words sounding thin.“Last time I checked Jones wears several different hats, but mind reading is not one of them,” Toni said. “And being straightforward isn’t Betty’s,” Kevin said.Betty elbowed him in the ribs. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side?”He squirmed away from her. “I am. But you tend to have a take charge attitude and don’t always share the whole plan. Or let other people have much input when you’ve made up your mind.”“What’s that supposed to mean?”Kevin held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying, maybe this thing isn’t all one-sided. You’re not used to people wanting to help plan something, and he’s -” Kevin faltered, not knowing Jughead enough to speak to his personality.Toni, though, was quick to step in. “Jughead is a snarky gloom and doom nerd. His people skills need some help too.”“Exactly. But maybe if you try to work with him.” He let the thought linger a moment before going into the latest gossip about the lacrosse team.

Xxxx

Thursday Afternoon - Party Countdown; 1

“I’m doing this for Archie, Jughead. If you don’t like that, then you don’t have to be involved,” Betty said after a few deep breaths.“This was my idea, Betty. Not some project you can step in and fix just because I’m involved. The door is right there if you change your mind,” Jughead snapped back. He turned away from her and focused his attention on his computer. Betty’s hands clenched and unclenched. A fire burned in her chest and she had to work to stay seated There was nothing she wanted more than to slap him. It annoyed her that he was right; they were doing this for Archie, not for some strange kudos for their own egos. “Fine.”Jughead’s head jerked up and he looked as if he were surprised she’d conceded so easily. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said her words clipped. Just because she was wrong didn’t mean she had to like it.His eyes narrowed and Betty waited it out. If he wanted to suspect her of ulterior motives, then so be it. She just wished he could bring the intensity down a little bit.Eventually, he waved to the seat across from him and, in a rare gesture of cordiality, waved Pop down for a round of shakes. While Betty was suspicious herself of his motives, she took the seat and pulled out her planner to go over their last minute plans.

xxxx

Friday Night - Party Countdown: 0

Betty leaned against the porch railing, a red solo cup full of something red and overly sweet in her hands. Veronica had sworn she’d like it, but Betty could barely stomach a sip of it. She’d never been one for parties or alcohol or general teenage mischief. Seeing what had happened to Polly had cured Betty of any desire of that.“Looks like we managed to pulled it off,” Jughead said. He lifted a can to his lips - a brazenly boring soda that stood out against their peers attempts to summon Dionysus into the Andrews’ living room.Betty turned towards him and watched him watch the party through the windows. “Surprisingly.”He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t turn towards her. Betty’s eye followed the movement only to trail down his profile. It was odd, she realized, to have never really thought about what he looked like without the permanent scowl and irritable persona he’d taken up as a defense mechanism.“It’ll be a bitch to clean up, though,” Jughead said.Betty snorted and poured her drink into the bushes beneath her. “I vote that’s Archie’s problem.”“And Veronica’s,” Jughead added, with a nod to the opening door.“There you two are,” Veronica said. She shot a sly grin to Jughead who rolled his eyes.Betty filed her questions away for later, particularly those about how close Veronica and Jughead seemed to have gotten over the past year. “This was a really great surprise,” Archie said, oblivious of the strange interaction going on next to him. He looked as tired as Betty felt, but somehow managed a level of energy even she couldn’t fake. She pulled him into a tight hug as the sudden realization that this was their last year of high school hit her. Tears threatened to spill at the corner of her eyes. In six months, Archie would no longer be her constant companion. It would be the first time ever that he wasn’t part of her life. Betty screwed her eyes shut and thought about the good times.“You’re welcome Archie. Happy birthday,” she said through a sniffle.They pulled apart and it was Jughead’s turn to pull Archie into a hug. Betty took a moment to wipe the tears from her cheeks.“Happy birthday, bud,” Jughead said with a grin. He nodded towards Veronica. “Enjoy it while you can.”Betty pulled Veronica into a hug, the pain of missing her not as severe. After all, they’d be roommates next fall, something they’d been planning since they were twelve. “I’m going to call it a night,” Betty said. Veronica kissed her on the cheek and, in a surprising move, pulled Jughead into a bear hug. She whispered something to him that made him flush before letting him go. “Walk her home,” Veronica ordered him. “I want nothing to happen to my girl. We have plans, after all.”“V, I live ten feet away,” Betty reminded her.Jughead rolled his eyes, but complied when Veronica shoed him after Betty. When they reached the sidewalk, Jughead cleared his throat.“Hey, Cooper.”Betty turned to face him. “Yes?”“Are we still in a truce?”She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got another ten minutes until curfew. So, I’d say we were.”Jughead took a step towards her, dropping his gaze to the ground. He swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting. “You’re not half bad, now that I think about it.”Betty smiled. It was probably the nicest thing she’d heard him say about anything in a while. “You’re not half bad yourself, Jones’.”“Also,” he paused, glancing behind them as if to check that they were alone.“What? What is it?” she asked, stepping towards him, worried he’d say or do something. Her fingers curled into a loose fist, but what she wouldn’t have ever expected was for him to pull her close and press his lips against hers.The world came to a startling halt as Betty’s brain went into overdrive. (They were kissing.) This was Jughead Jones her self-proclaimed high school rival in all things that mattered. (He was kissing her.) Before this week they’d never had a nice thing to say about each other. (And she liked it.) The only common ground they ever had was fighting over Archie (Worse, she was kissing him back) and snarking at each other over stupid little things.A car backfired a street over and the spell was broken. The world wrenched itself back into rightful place. Betty’s eyes fluttered open and everything looked the same as it had before. Only there was that look in his eyes, and there was that exhilarating feeling in her chest that could only mean the sky was the limit, and the ground beneath her was shaking. At some point her hand had come to rest on his cheek. It felt normal there, like a bird finally come home to roost. She rubbed her finger against his smooth skin and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “Pop’s tomorrow?” he asked.Betty answered him in another kiss.

#bughead fanfiction #yeah sorry for the long post before the readmore #since my internet is practically non existant at this point #D:

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lostinfic · 3 years

Text

Art for Hearts’ Sake

Pairing: Jean-François Mercier/Betty Vates

Rated E | 4400 words

Summary: Betty works in a care home and every week she sneaks out one of her elderly patients to a nearby art gallery. There she meets a mysterious Frenchman. He's an art dealer of some kind, or so she thinks, until he takes her on whirlwind escapade.

Fluff and smut / Art thief AU (loosely based on The Thomas Crown Affair)

Ao3

Betty peeked outside the room, left and right. At the end of the corridor, Mrs. Mansfield opened the door to the stairwell. As soon as it closed behind her, Betty whispered: “The coast is clear.”

“Let’s go.”

Eighty-three year-old, Maurice Delorme, donned his fedora, pushing it low on his forehead to shade his eyes.

Betty pushed his wheelchair out of the bedroom, down the corridor and into the hall. She winked at 92-year-old Annette who shrieked, clutching her chest, thus distracting the nurse away from the front desk. Betty and Maurice rushed past the reception area, out the front doors and around the building.

Betty stopped to catch her breath. Maurice laughed wheezily, slapping his thigh.

“We did it, ma chère.”

“Remind me to get that fudge Annette likes.”

“Did I ever tell you I once saw her perform at La Scalla de Milan in 1963?”

“Have you?” Betty replied though, of course, she had heard the story before. She didn’t mind, Maurice had had the most amazing life, and she enjoyed his reminiscence however embellished they might be.

The St. James, where she worked, was a small and exclusive care home for elderly millionaires. Certainly nothing like the conditions in which her mother had lived. For many years, Betty had taken care of her mother, who suffered from an early-onset form of dementia, in their small flat in Leeds. When her mother passed away, Betty not only had to grieve for her parent, but also for the many years during which she had put her own life on hold. The day after the funeral, she’d looked at herself in the mirror and realized she didn’t know who she was. On a whim, she had moved to London and promised herself to live life to the fullest.

Things had turned out significantly less glamorous than expected. She couldn’t afford a home in a desirable neighborhood. And, with no formal education or work experience to speak of, she had found employment doing the same chores she had done for her mother. At least, at the St. James, she was paid for it, had real days off, and suffered less verbal abuse. Most of all, moving away had not magically rid her of her shyness and anxieties. Wherever she went, they followed, but she was getting better at giving them the slip.

Part of living life to the fullest had involved letting Maurice convince her to sneak him out of the care home. His doctor advised against any taxing activities and public spaces where germs abounded. But he longed to visit a museum or a gallery.

“What is a life without art, but a body without a heart?” he’d complained dramatically.

And thus had begun their weekly escapades.

Just a few streets away from the care home was Kinwood Palace, an illustrious property with a world-class art collection open to the public. Betty loved the gorgeous gardens, but Maurice was here for the Rembrandts and Vermeers.

Betty pushed her accomplice over the gravel leading to the neoclassical villa. Despite being hot from the physical effort and warm summer air, Betty kept her cute coat on to hide her unflattering scrubs. She liked the coat’s sixties vibe with its big black buttons and bright colour, something she would never have worn before.

Tourists already filled the great blue and white entrance hall of Kinwood. Maurice flashed their English Heritage membership cards to the box office clerk. Betty scanned the crowd.

“Shall we pay a visit to Boticelli today?” Maurice asked. She nodded inattentively. “Or shall we visit Ringo Starr?”

“Whichever you prefer.”

“Betty, are you looking for him? The Frenchman.”

“Dunno what you’re on about.”

But her blushing cheeks betrayed her.

“You should invite him for— what is it youths call it?— ah, yes, for Netflix and chill.”

She burst out laughing. Her laughter echoed in the gallery, and she promptly slapped a hand over her mouth.

“If I were your age, I would invite him,” Maurice said.

“You were married when you were my age. And you loved Felicia.”

“Yes, yes. I could never love another woman after her. But I was always curious about sodomites… Do you think you could find me a rent boy, dear?”

She giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Well?” he insisted.

“Oh... Maybe?”

“It was good enough for Leonardo, after all,” he said as they stopped in front of framed sketches drawn by da Vinci himself.

Every room of Kinwood palace was breathtaking, Rococo frescoes decorated the walls between Roman columns, and hanging from the coffered ceiling, massive chandeliers sparkled. And there were books, so many books, and vases of fresh flowers everywhere. As Maurice admired the masterpieces in gilded frames, Betty imagined herself living in a place like this, a century ago, or imagined being an actress in a period drama.

“He’s here,” Maurice whispered.

“Who?”

“Who?” he parroted; She wasn’t fooling him.

She glanced sideways and spotted the Frenchman, smoking just outside the garden doors, his jacket hooked on a finger over his shoulder. His hair was neatly pomaded, his trousers tailored, his shirt smooth and sharp: an old-fashioned sort of cool, straight out of her wet dreams.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she bit back a simper. She knew that from behind his sunglasses, he was studying her. One corner of his mouth rose in a languid, crooked smile.

Five times now they had visited Kinwood at the same time. Five times he had watched her from afar, with that penetrating gaze of his, the hesitated— no, not hesitated, evaluated or calculated— and finally approached her. Though he never stayed long in their company, he’d made a lasting impression on both her and Maurice.

He’d said he was a subcontractor for Kinwood, as an art appraiser, she assumed because of the way he observed everything. Including Betty herself. Being seen, it unsettled her. Most days she felt indistinguishable from a potted plant. Perhaps a side effect of having lived with a mother who couldn’t recognize her anymore for years. Though Betty considered herself plain by contemporary standards, she liked to think that, on a good day, she had a hint of beauty from another era. Perhaps he could appreciate that.

He greeted Maurice warmly, in French, then turned to her, “I thought I’d recognized your laugh.” He pocketed his sunglasses, then took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

To anyone, she would have claimed he was laying it on a bit thick, but deep down she melted.

“Son nom est Betty et elle est célibataire,” Mr. Delorme said to the Frenchman.

Betty glared at him, though she didn’t know what he’d said beside her name.

“I’m Jean-François,” he said, mostly to her.

They walked together through the rooms, and soon forgot about the art. He had a way of mentioning things she had said in previous conversations: he’d read a book she liked, and he asked after the stray kittens she worried. Betty, too, remembered every word he had ever said to her, but was trying very hard to look like she didn’t. But here he was, being so openly infatuated, she’d convinced herself it was too good to be true. Yet every time they met, her misgivings vanished, and she let herself be thoroughly charmed.

They stopped in front of a small canvas, “The Enchanted Castle” by Claude Gellée, and this time Betty paid attention.

“It’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?” Jean-François remarked.

“I like landscapes the best. They’re like a window to another place, another time. I can almost… jump in. Escape.”

She covered her mouth, regretting that last word. But Jean-François brushed her hand away.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Emboldened by his touch, Betty said, “Would you— I mean, I’m working now, but later, maybe we could— if you’d like…”

“Yes,” he said again.

“Okay.” She laughed and bit her bottom lip.

“But first, I have a painting to steal.”

“What?”

He slipped his jacket on and popped the collar. He said a few words in French to Mr. Delorme, then vanished out of the gallery.

Betty blinked, mouth agape. Well, that’s one way of getting dumped.

“Oh, no, I think I dropped my pills,” Mr. Delorme said, patting his breast pockets. “I swear I had them.”

“I’ll go look for them,” she said, thankful for an excuse to get away.

Fifteen minutes later, she found the bottle of medication in the antechamber thanks to a security guard. After that, Mr. Delorme asked to leave.

On the way back, Betty didn’t say a word. In her mind, she kept replaying the scene, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong. Her eyes teared up, but she blamed it on the dry wind. Humiliation, sadness and anger warred in her chest.

They weren’t careful going back inside the care home and were caught by the nurse at the front desk. Mrs. Manfield was a real stickler for rules and disliked Betty.

“We were only out in the garden,” Maurice retorted before Betty could gather her wits.

The nurse narrowed her eyes at them. “If I find out otherwise…” she warned.

Betty could lose her job over these little escapades, all for what? A rich old man and a weird Frenchman?

She took Mr. Delorme back to his room. With an unusually cold attitude, she helped him out of his outerwear and onto the armchair in front of the TV. Her behaviour shocked him, and he tried to soothe her with jokes and charm, but she ignored him.

“We won’t be going back to Kinwood palace,” she announced and left his apartments.

She went back to work, to menial tasks and being called by other carers’ names.

By the end of her shift at 5 pm, on top of the humiliation, sadness, anger and fear of losing her job, she was now feeling guilty about having been so cold with Mr. Delorme. She changed out of her dirty scrubs into her own clothes. Putting on the yellow sundress and cardigan cheered her up. She decided to pay Maurice a visit before leaving.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Delorme. I panicked.”

“Don’t worry about it, ma chère.” He patted her hands. “You will feel better soon, I just know it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am.” He winked.

She chalked it up to his eccentric nature, but then there was a knock at the door.

“Told you,” he said.

Betty opened the door and gasped at finding Jean-François standing there.

“Good evening, Betty.”

“What— what are you doing here?”

“I have some unfinished business.”

He closed the door behind him and walked to Mr. Delorme’s wheelchair. He knelt beside it and fiddled with the underside, finally pulling out a slim leather case.

“Let’s see it,” Mr. Delorme said, rubbing his hands excitedly.

In a smooth move, Jean-François set the case on the table, flipped the locks and revealed its content: a painting. A painting from the Kinwood collection. One of her favorites: a moonlit forest by Joseph Wright of Derby.

“Tell me it’s a very good fake,” she whispered.

“There is a very good fake,” he said, “whether it’s in that case or at the gallery, well…” he smirked.

He closed back the case and checked his watch.

“Perfect.” Jean-François offered her his arm. “Are you ready for our date?”

Betty rubbed her brow and laughed incredulously. She cast a glance at Mr. Delorme who was nothing but encouraging.

“Where would we go?”

“First, I am going to hang this in my home, then we can grab a bite to eat. Is that all right with you?”

Mr. Delorme whispered, “Netflix and chill.”

Betty felt rooted on the spot. Her first instinct was to refuse. Going to a stranger’s house on the first date, a stranger who might be a thief? That was a bad idea. A fantastically terrible idea. A terribly alluring idea.

She looped her arm through his. Striding out of her place of work on his arm, she felt like a million bucks. Which is to say, less than what that masterpiece was worth.

Outside the doors, a gleaming vintage Jaguar awaited them, chauffeur standing straight beside it. They slipped in the backseat. When the door closed, butterflies erupted in Betty’s stomach.

The chauffeur smoothly navigated the traffic and drove them just outside London, to a private aerodrome. Jean-François opened the car door for her just as two men in coveralls rolled a ladder up to a small aircraft.

In a daze, Betty held Jean-François’s hand and followed him inside the cockpit. He buckled her seat harness and gave her some instructions she barely registered. He flicked switches and talked to Ground Control.

“Ready?” he asked her.

Betty should have been scared, but she couldn’t muster any fear, only excitement. Perhaps that’s what should have scared her.

She took a deep breath. “Ready.”

He taxied the plane into position and down the runway, faster and faster. Betty’s heart rate accelerated. Jean-François pulled back the controls, and as they rose in the air, a flush of adrenaline tingled through her body. Soon, they were flying over twilit London.

“Where are we going?”

“Like I said, to my home, first.”

She laughed as the blue-grey waters of the Channel appeared on the horizon. France straight ahead.

Her cheeks ached from smiling, and her heart never slowed.

They landed on a small strip in the middle of a wooded area. Betty’s legs wobbled when she stood up. Jean-François offered his hand to help her deplane. He was so frustratingly cool and composed for someone who’d just flown a stolen masterpiece across the border.

The country air was pure and warm. They weren’t in Paris, but in southern France. They walked along a trail then a grand villa came into view. Whitewashed stone, terracotta roof and blue shutters among ambitious vines and towering cypresses. Dogs ran in the tall grass, and wildflowers decorated the lawn. Solar panels hinted at an off-the-grid lifestyle.

“So?” he asked with a sweeping gesture.

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “Showoff.”

“When else can I show off if not on the first date?”

“All I’m saying is you’re setting the bar pretty high for the second date.”

She thought, even if this turns out to be all a ruse to get her in bed, even if he sends her back to London tomorrow without a goodbye, she didn’t care. It would be worth it. She deserved an incredible fling.

A middle-aged housekeeper came out to greet him and narrowed her eyes at his guest.

“You brought someone with you, monsieur?”

“Don’t worry, Marie.”

He stepped forward, still holding Betty’s hand, but she tugged him back.

“Hey, if I’m not back for my shift tomorrow morning, Mr. Delorme knows I’m with you and what you did.”

“Understood.” He bowed slightly. A curl fell to his forehead. “Smart girl.”

Although the house was old, the interior was modern. Selected antiques blended harmoniously with the warm, minimalist style. Crown molding and tapestries hid a high-end security system. She caught a glimpse of a library and of a workshop filled with art supplies. Portraits hung on the walls, going back generations. A photo of a younger Jean-François with a woman stood out: a wedding portrait. At the sight of it, Betty stopped dead in her tracks. Her nails bit into her palms. She didn’t trust her voice to ask a question evenly.

“Ah.” He scratched the back of his head. “She… she passed away five years ago.”

“I’m sorry. I thought— well, I’m sorry.”

He hesitated by the photo. For the first time, he looked almost destabilized.

“You thought what?” he asked after such a long pause she didn’t understand his question right away. “That I was a playboy?”

“Maybe. Are you?”

“Is that why you came with me?”

“No.”

He studied her for a moment then brushed a knuckle along her jaw. Without another word, he resumed guiding her through the house.

He led her to the living room. There was another painting in here: a large canvas of hazy water lilies.

“Another very good fake?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

He carefully removed the Wright of Derby painting from the leather case.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She had many thoughts, mostly about all the people who wouldn’t get to see it now.

“Dunno,” she said. “Will you sell it?”

“No. I will deliver it to Maurice’s granddaughter in Vienna. But until then...”

He placed the canvas upon a wooden picture ledge above the fireplace. The moonlit landscape shone against the plain wall.

“Hold on. What? Mr. Delorme?”

“The painting belonged to his wife’s family, but it was stolen by Nazis in ‘38.”

“Are you telling me you’re some sort of Robin Hood?”

“Oh, no. My fees are exorbitant.”

She snorted a laugh.

“Couldn’t they get it back legally?”

“They tried. In the 1960s, I believe. But they’d lost proof of ownership during the war, and the family at Kinwood denied any transaction with former Nazi officers, as one does.”

Betty puzzled over this new information. In less than twelve hours, her idea of him had shifted so many times she could hardly keep track. But one thing hadn’t changed: her attraction.

“You know, you nearly derailed my plans,” he said.

“How so?”

“A year of meticulous planning and then, out of nowhere, comes this lovely woman I cannot stop thinking about. I shouldn’t have let myself be seen talking to Maurice so often.”

“You’re having me on.”

“I brought you here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I gave in too easily. Where’s the challenge in that for you?”

“Where’s the challenge in letting someone get close to me?” A rhetorical question veiling a confession.

She tilted her head to the side and considered him. He let her.

“Was anyone hurt by your plan?”

“Not a soul, I swear.”

Marie brought in a bottle of red wine with two glasses and a plate of cheese, bread and thin slices of roasted duck.

Jean-François pressed a button on the wall. Curtains swayed aside, revealing tall sliding glass doors that framed a landscape not unlike the one in the painting. One of the doors was open, warm air swirled in, balmy with dew and night blossoms.

He opened the wine bottle and sampled its bouquet. Satisfied, he filled their glasses which they rose in a silent toast to whatever delights the night might bring. Drinking, she stared at the landscape outside. Beyond a small terrace, the ground sloped to a valley where centennial trees grew around a lake, mist skated upon its silvery surface. Away from the city lights, myriad stars shone in the night sky.

An escape.

The glass pane hazily reflected Jean-François as he came to stand behind her. She felt his warmth radiate over her skin though he wasn’t touching her yet. Drawn in, she leaned back, just a little, an invitation, an ouverture.

He trailed a single finger from her earlobe, down her neck, to her shoulder. And she shivered with longing. He gently swiped her hair away, and his lips replaced his finger, careful, precise kisses, inching towards the strap of her dress and sliding it aside.

“What does it feel like, striding into a gallery and taking whatever you want from the walls?”

“Calming. At that moment, I am utterly focused and in control. Then when I slip away with my prize, my blood begins to sizzle.”

“Is it still sizzling now?”

“Yes.”

He met her reflected gaze on the glass pane.

“Mine too,” she said.

She turned around in his arms, and he watched patiently as she put their glasses on a side table. Placing her hands upon his chest, she felt his sharp intake of breath, his rapid heartbeat. She slid her palms up to his neck, and his eyelids fluttered when her fingers delved into the locks at the back of his head. With a gentle push, she guided his lips to hers. He let her take the lead, modest and timid at first, then slowly yielding to instinct and hunger. When she opened her mouth to his, he cupped her cheek and leaned into her until her back pressed to the window. He kissed her with dedication, with utter focus, tasting and caressing her lips, intent on making her tingle all over. Heat flared through her, and she arched into the curve of his body bent over her.

Oh boy.

Eyes still closed, she broke the kiss for air and licked his taste on her lips.

“That was some grade-A kissing,” she whispered.

Jean-François laughed and pecked her forehead. “I like you.”

“Yeah? ‘cause I stroke your ego?”

“Because you’re honest.”

“Well, if I’m being honest I'd very much like you to sweep me off my feet again.”

“As you wish.”

In one smooth move, he grabbed her thighs and hiked her up on his hips. Betty squeaked and held onto him. He kissed her against the glass door, exploring her neck and cleavage, all lips and teeth and tongue. She wound her legs tighter around him, seeking friction to soothe the throbbing he’d triggered. He sucked in a breath and bucked his hips.

He carried her outside, to a nearby wooden chaise lounge and laid her on the striped cushion.

She expected him to flip up her skirt and pound, but he knelt beside the chair. He rubbed her ankles, then slid his hand up her leg to her knee. Betty’s breath quickened. She parted her legs. The ascension continued, his hand slipped underneath the hem of her skirt and up inside her thigh. He stopped inches from her underwear, and kissed her again. It was agony to have his hand so close to where she needed it. His mouth traveled to her breasts, he pulled down the bodice of her dress, just enough to access a nipple. Betty squirmed and keened, and finally his fingers slipped inside her knickers.

She looked like a Renaissance muse, lounging, with her arms over her head, one breast bare, and layers of fabric bunched about her waist. And he studied her as he sought the spots that made her sigh and cry. Her lewd noises accompanied the cicadas’ song. And she should’ve been ashamed to make such a wanton display, but the heat in his eyes was worth it.

This man could take anything he wanted, and he had chosen her.

She came embarrassingly fast.

He licked his fingers and grinned.

“Showoff,” she said again.

She grabbed his tie and pulled him over her. He laughed against her lips, and it hurt with how good it felt to share this joke, this joy.

She blindly unknotted his tie as he fumbled with his buttons. Unable to wait any longer, she cupped the tantalizing bulge in his trousers. He groaned and that filled her with pride.

He stood up to take off his trousers, and she made him recline on the chaise. With half-lidded eyes, he observed her straddling his legs. She admired him, as he had her. His hair was completely disheveled now. His open shirt revealed a lean, firm chest and taut stomach down which she dragged her fingernails. His cock twitched as she neared it. She teased the surrounding skin until he growled her name. She stroked him to full hardness, enjoying the way he hardened in her hand. Because of her.

And now, for the pièce de résistance. She rose to her knees, and Jean-François’s jaw went slack. She had barely had time to enjoy his fingers, but she planned on savouring this. Slowly and with a long, luxuriating moan, she slid down every inch of him, wetting him to the root.

He gripped her hips, urging her to move. His chest heaved with panting breaths. She gorged herself on his lust and desperation. With every bounce, her dress slid lower down her torso.

She held onto the top of the seat for leverage, but she must have been too vigorous for the adjustable back suddenly collapsed. Betty yelped and Jean-François caught her.

“Crikey!” she said, pressing a hand to her heart.

“Are you hurt?”

“Scared me half to death, but I’m okay. You?”

“I’m fine.”

They looked at each other, then broke into a loud guffaw. Mirth and embarrassment heated her cheeks. She truly couldn’t stop laughing. Jean-François even teared up.

“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” he said. It came out so naturally, it was almost reckless by his standards.

Her heart swelled, and she kissed him. He rolled on top of her, spurred on by this small shot of adrenaline.

Betty shivered; it was getting cold outside.

“Shall we go back inside?” he asked.

“If you don’t mind.”

They picked up their clothes and closed the patio door. With a remote control, he turned on the fireplace.

He picked up his glass of wine from where she’d left them. He drank while watching her undress and lie down on the plush carpet, in the orange glow of the flames. With a beckoning smile, she extended a hand toward him. He removed the last of his clothes and crawled over her.

Skin to skin, bodies entwined, they moved together. And suddenly it was so tender and so very real. A leisurely give-and-take of pleasure. Delight and satisfaction mirrored in each other’s face. They gasped and moaned and laughed, then fell silent, foreheads together, fingers entwined, staring in each other’s eyes, toeing the edge of bliss.

Even after climaxing, they didn’t part. Jean-François buried his face in her neck and held her even closer.

Betty looked up at the stolen painting, and, for once, didn’t feel the pull to lose herself in its landscape. She closed her eyes and stroked his hair and thought nothing would ever be this perfect.

Eventually, hunger and thirst caught up with them. They put their underwear back on, and Betty borrowed Jean-François’s shirt.

They ate, sitting on the carpet, their legs still entwined. The wine, the cheeses, the meat, everything was unbelievably tasteful. She licked her fingers clean and refilled their glasses. Jean-François slouched down, head against the couch, unwound like she had never seen him before.

“Betty, do you still want to go back to London in time for your morning shift?”

“Goodness no.”

“Good. I know an excellent restaurant in Vienna. It’s inside a tropical greenhouse, you’ll love it.”

“Vienna?”

“How is that for a second date?”

#Mercier x Betty #spies of warsaw #a passionate woman #teninch fic #lostinfic writes stuff

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itsmelaurel · 4 years

Text

Begin Again

Summary: When your best friends move away for college, you think life is officially over. However, you find yourself making new friends including the blonde surfer from the other side of the island.

—————————————————

three.

The first time you physically see the boys again is a whole month after they move. It was prospect weekend at their university which meant all high school seniors who were interested in the school were invited to tour the campus and attend a football game. For most high school seniors it was their first taste of what college would be like next year.

For you, it was just another weekend at your parents alumni college. It was where they met and fell in love. They had been bringing you to sporting events here every year and basically assumed you would follow in their footsteps.

When you got to campus, they boys met you outside their dorm. Each took a few extra seconds to hug you with Topper actually spinning you around. It felt good to see them, to hug them. This was the longest any of you had gone without seeing each other.

You were currently sitting at the tailgate they dragged you and Sarah to. Ward and your dad had left you both there to visit the alumni tailgate, which was probably a bad idea since Kelce immediately poured you a shot as soon as they left.

All of them had promised not to leave your side, professing that they wanted to spend as much time with you as possible while you were here. That didn’t last long though as they were quickly swept up into a game of beer pong with their fraternity brothers.

Since they were preoccupied, you and Sarah had been people watching from the side of the tent. Several people who graduated from Kildare Prep also went to school here. It was the most popular college choice for Kildare's finest.

“Is it just me or does this feel like a KP reunion?” Sarah asked looking around the tent.

“Definitely feels like a reunion.” You agreed with a grimace.

It’s quiet for a moment as you watch people taking shots, shotgunning beers and quickly becoming blacked out drunk.

“I don’t think I want to go here.” Sarah rushes out quickly and you whip your head around to look at her with wide eyes.

“I- I don’t think I do either.” You stutter. It’s the first time you’ve ever admitted it out loud to anyone. It had been a small thought in the back of your mind for a few weeks now, but you kept ignoring it.

Your parents had been planning on you attending this school since you were a baby. The boys didn’t even think there was another option for you because wouldn’t you want to be where your best friends were?

It was where you always thought you would end up, but it didn’t feel right all the sudden. It didn’t feel like home.

“I haven’t told anyone- well, except John B.”

“Me either minus the part about John B.”

Both of you just stare at each other for a moment, letting the reality of your words sink in.

“Y/n! Sarah!” Kelce was shouting your names as he made his way over to you. Your eyes quickly glance back to Sarah’s, a silent understanding passing between y'all. “Come on, I called next for y'all at pong. You're up against Top and Rafe.”

After winning two games of beer pong, both you and Sarah let another team take over your spot. You were a little tipsy even after switching to water during the second game. All of the guys around the table were in awe of you and Sarah sinking almost every shot.

“That’s my girl!” Rafe shouts when you made the shot to win the first game, even though he and Topper lost because of it.

You and Sarah head towards the coolers to get more water, bending down to open the cooler when a heeled bootie slams the lid shut.

“What tha-” your eyebrows wrinkle in confusion as you look up to see three girls standing on the other side of the cooler.

“Um, can we help you?” Sarah asks as you stand up straight next to her.

“The prospect tailgate is on the other side of the quad.” The blonde in the middle says, her nasally voice like nails on a chalkboard.

“We’re here with friends.” You say, eyes scanning the area for Rafe, Topper or Kelce. Of course they are nowhere to be found.

“Oh really? Who?” The brunette on the left asks, trying to catch us in a lie.

“Topper Thornton, Rafe Cameron and Kelce-” you don’t even get to finish before all three girls are cackling. You and Sarah share an annoyed look.

“No way you're friends with them.” The other blonde on the right says.

“Actually, I’m Rafe’s sister and this is their best friend, y/n.” Sarah says. All of their smiles falter for half a second before they turn their gaze solely to me.

“They’ve never mentioned a girl best friend-”

“Maybe you don’t know them that well.” You taunt. It causes all of them to chuckle again.

“Honey, we’re with those boys literally every single day. They’ve never mentioned you.” The one in the middle brags.

“They call themselves the three amigos. I’ve never heard them utter anything about anyone else.” The brunette chirps.

“And you aren’t on their instagrams anywhere. I would totally remember if you were.” The other blonde adds, all three girls now wearing similar smirks.

A frown settles on your face. You know for a fact you are all over their instagrams. From prom pictures to spending the day on the water, you know you're on all of their pages hundreds of times. Your whole lives have pretty much been documented on their social media accounts.

Thankfully, Sarah has the complete opposite reaction of you. She laughs out loud, hand on her stomach as she leans back slightly - intentionally mocking the girls. People are starting to look at the scene near the edge of the tent.

“Can you imagine trying to intimidate two high school girls because of who they're friends with?” Sarah says loudly so everyone on this side hears. The girls' faces fall at her words.

“Because bitch, we can’t relate.” Sarah throws her hand up in the middle girl's face, a clear dismissal of their childish behavior. She grabs your hand and drags you behind her, away from the tent and the three wicked bitches from hell. She doesn’t stop until a small clearing opens up next to the brick stadium entrance and you're all alone.

Once stopped, the first thing you do is pull your phone out. Opening up Instagram you check all three of the boys Instagram pages hoping that bitch was lying. Your heart sinks when you realize she wasn’t.

There isn’t a trace of you on any of their pages. Tears well up in your eyes and you clench your eyes shut to prevent them from falling.

“Don’t cry, you are way too pretty to cry over those assholes.” Sarah says gently, pulling you into a hug.

“How could they erase every single picture of me? Like I haven’t been there for every moment of their lives.” Your voice cracks a little as you try to keep the emotion from spilling out.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to beat their asses. Then I’m going to roundhouse kick Peggy, Susie and Betty in their faces for messing up our day.” Sarah pulls back slightly to look at you, the determined look on her face makes you giggle.

“Hey! There you are. We were just headed to the boys tailgate to get you so we can head into the game.” Ward says as he and your dad walk up to you.

“Everything okay?” Your dad asks, head tilting as he notices your watery eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You lie, pushing down every single emotion your feeling as the four of you make your way into the game.

When you find your seats, Sarah asks her dad to take your picture. He takes a few then she holds her phone up for some selfies.

Your phone is blowing up, so you take it out to see who it is. There’s at least ten texts in the group chat asking where you went.

Then there’s two texts from a certain blonde haired, blue eyed surfer. The first one asks if you made it and the second one is a picture of the pogues all with sad faces at your and Sarah’s absence.

You send him a picture of the field to let him know you made it, then you make Sarah take a picture just like theirs and send it with a red heart emoji. You immediately regret sending a red heart, but he sends one right back.

Sarah is staring at you as you stare at those little red hearts, her eyebrows raised as she watches you smile.

“What?”

“Just wondering if I look like that every time I text John B.” She shrugs before looking back out to the field. A blush graces your cheeks as you roll your eyes, both of you giggling which catches your dads attention.

“Hey, there’s no giggling in football.” Ward says, snapping his fingers to get both of you to stop. It only fuels your laughter on more.

—

After the game, the original plan was to meet the boys back at their tailgate before getting on the road. All four of you are headed that way, talking about the big win when you look up towards the tailgate. Through the crowd of people, you can see those three girls from earlier talking to Kelce, Topper and Rafe. The site makes you falter your steps until you are completely stopped.

As much as you want to go over there and prove that your friends with the boys, you can’t and it’s not because of those girls. You can’t face the boys right now. All of the emotions you pushed down earlier start to bubble up and you refuse to let them see you cry.

“Um, actually, can we go get the truck?” You ask nervously, eyes trained only on your dad as he stops a few steps ahead of you. He squints his eyes at you, confused at your behavior.

“We need to say bye to Rafe.” Ward comments as he looks back to the tent. Sarah also looks towards the tent, noticing the scene before looking back at you and your glossy eyes.

“We'll go say bye to the boys, y’all go get the truck and pick us up on the corner. It will probably save us all some time.” Sarah makes a plan before y’all go your separate ways.

It’s quiet as you and your dad walk side by side towards his truck, the only noise between the two of you is a faint sniffle as you try to keep yourself from crying.

“So, you want to tell me what’s wrong?” He asks softly. He stops walking, turning his whole body to look at you. His face is full of concern and you can’t hold it in anymore.

You tell him about those bitches at the tailgate, the fact your best friends practically erased every memory y’all had together and then you accidently let it slip that you don’t want to go to school here anymore. He pulls you into a hug, repeatedly telling you that it’s all going to be okay as he rocks you back and forth.

Both of you stay like that for a few minutes until your crying slowly fades into a few tears and hiccups. He sweetly dabs the tear stains with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I promise it’s all going to be okay, sweetpea.” He whispers reassuringly before he pulls you into his side and continues on to the vehicle. His words are comforting, but it does help the ache you feel in your chest.

When you pick up Ward and Sarah, she is practically glowing when she climbs in the back seat with you.

“You should have seen those bitches-” she begins but Ward shoots her a look at her word choice. She rolls her eyes but continues on “they looked like they were going to throw up when we walked up. When the boys kept asking where you were, their faces paled.” She laughs and even Ward chuckles from the front seat.

“Did they say anything?”

“Oh yeah, they said they were just joking around with us. So I told the boys everything they said. I honestly thought Rafe was going to punch their little blonde leader. When the girls left, Topper said they’ve only seen those girls twice at swap parties.”

“You should have seen them leave, total embarrassment as this one actually laughed.” Ward says from the front seat pointing back at Sarah. That little bit of information makes you feel a little better.

“Did the boys say anything about Instagram?” You ask, unsure if you really want to know. She shakes her head no.

“They were too hyped up on shutting those girls down. I’m sure they are blowing up your phone right now though.” She points to your purse. You can feel it vibrating repeatedly from the inside.

When you pull it out, the amount of texts and calls popping up is causing your phone to go slow. You decide to put it on Do Not Disturb, not ready to talk to them yet. Plus, they’re probably still drunk. The conversation that needs to be had would be best sober.

When you get home, you quickly shower to wash the tailgate and stadium funk off. You just finish putting on pajamas when there’s a light knock on your window.

You slowly approach the window, peaking through the blinds to see who it could possibly be. The only boys who have ever snuck through your window don’t live in the banks anymore.

“JJ?” You're completely confused, but you pull the blinds up and open up the window anyways.

“Hey” he whispers as he stands on the roof landing outside your window. His eyes rake over your face before taking in your light pink silk pajamas.

“What are you doing here?”

“John B had to drop something off at Sarah’s, so I thought I would come see you.”

“Well, come in.” You whisper stepping back so he can move inside. He doesn’t, but he grabs your hand pulling you back to the window.

“I can’t stay long. He told me to meet him back at the van in a few minutes.” He explains, his thumb running across the back of your hand.

You don’t even realize your pouting at the fact he has to leave so soon until his other thumb brushes across your bottom lip before moving up your jaw. He drops that hand quickly as if he's been burned and lets out a shaky breath.

“Did you have fun today?” He asks quietly, frowning when you only shrug in response. Before he can question further, his phone beeps.

“That’s John B letting me know my times up.”

“Thanks for stopping by.” you reply softly.

“Anytime, sweets.” He says making you giggle. He backs away from the window before turning around to climb off the roof making you close the window then the blinds.

You haven’t even moved from the spot when another knock makes you jump. You reopen everything to see JJ standing there again.

“I forgot something.” He whispers as he gets closer to the window.

“Wha-” you don’t even get to finish the word when his lips land on yours and his hand comes up to cup your jaw. The kiss is soft, almost tender as your lips move against his sparking electricity between the two of you.

It only lasts for a few seconds before his phone goes off again. He reluctantly pulls away, leaving you both wanting more.

“I’ve got to go.” He says against your lips and you nod in understanding.

“Goodnight J” you whisper as he backs away for the second time.

“Sweet dreams baby” He says with a wink before climbing off the roof.

The kiss is the only thing you can think of as you slowly drift off to sleep, completely exhausted from the long day. Not mean bitches, shitty best friends or anxiety of your future.

Only JJ Maybank’s lips on yours.

taglist: @dreamsndior @rafej-cambanks @prejudic3 @katiaw2 @sometimesicryintheshower @bibliophilewednesday @edgymuffin @stargazingandmoon @rae131415 @httpstarkey @k-k0129 @sunshineitsfine44

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj obx fic #jj x y/n #sarah cameron #topper thornton #rafe cameron #kelce obx #pogues x reader #obx fic #obx x reader #soft!kooks #soft!pogues

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traincat · 4 years

Note

Any of fic in the works that you'll shows sneak peaks of preferably something angsty.

Sure, anon. How about a tiny bit of some current alien soulmate Fantastic Four plot but with established Spideytorch? It’s pretty angsty! Warning for a mention of self harm (involving Johnny trying to get the soulmate band off himself by force).

--------

“This is, what,” Peter said, his hand hovering under Johnny’s elbow as Johnny held his arm out for him to see. “Some kind of alien wedding band or something?”

“Or something,” Johnny muttered. “It’s a soulmate band. It marks soulmates.” He swallowed hard, teeth catching on his lower lip. “I passed out when we got to the Spyre. When I woke back up, it was on me. Sue and Reed had them, too.”

Peter had seen Sue wearing a sleeveless dress only a few days before. There had been no band on her arm. She could have, he supposed, made it invisible, but it was innocuous as alien jewelry went. He couldn’t imagine why she would have.

“What about Ben?” he asked, picking up on the missing figure in this story.

“They didn’t put one on Ben,” Johnny said, shaking his head.

That struck Peter as odd. Ben and Alicia were as close to fated as Peter thought it could get, a real life beauty and the beast. If soulmates were a real, tangible thing, something you could quantify enough to stick a bracelet on it, Peter couldn’t imagine how Ben and Alicia wouldn’t qualify.

“Can I touch you?” Peter asked, because Johnny was curled in on himself still, radiating so much misery that Peter wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

Johnny glanced at him, his lips parted wordlessly, and then he gave a tight nod.

Carefully, Peter touched his fingers to Johnny’s arm, keeping just shy of the band as he examined the welts and scratches. He kept his hands clear of touching the bracelet itself, but he slowly raised Johnny’s arm, gently turning it this way and that as he examined the golden band.

“Is it hurting you?” he asked.

“No.” Johnny shook his head. “It tingles a little, but it doesn’t hurt.”

Peter’s thumb stroked a parallel line to an angry red welt. “Then why…?”

A muscle jumped in Johnny’s cheek as he clenched his jaw. “I wanted it off. I didn’t want you to see.”

“You can’t get it off,” Peter said slowly.

“The only person who’s supposed to be able to take it off is my soulmate,” Johnny said, his voice hushed. “And Sky said she won’t.”

He looked so miserable that Peter couldn’t stand it. He got up, pacing from one end of the bedroom to the other, before coming back. He dropped to his knees in front of Johnny.

Peter had been lucky, in that he was sure he had encountered more than his fair share of soulmates, in every way you could have one. Gwen, who’d shown him the depth of how he could love. Harry and Flash and Betty. Ben Reilly, his brother. Even Jonah, in their own way, although Peter would never say that to JJJ’s face. Felicia, maybe, in how they always seemed to know each other better than they knew themselves. And Mary Jane, always.

Johnny, too, although it had taken Peter a long time to figure that one out. From day one, he’d been the one caught in Johnny’s web, always ready to do anything to get any sort of reaction out of him. Later, always wanting to make him smile.

He didn’t believe some stupid alien tower on some stupid far flung planet at the other end of the universe knew better than Peter how to make Johnny happy.

#spideytorch #losers who deserve each other #myfic #*replies #Anonymous

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beyondstupidityblog · 3 years

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On March 13th 2021, two friends and I did what never could have imagined possible, I watched Freddy Got Fingered for the ninth time, and it will by no means be the last. I’m explaining this to you, dear reader, so you and I have an important understanding between us. You will be reading the ramblings of one whose brain has curdled like milk left out in the hot afternoon sun. Now that introductions are out of the way, let us begin.

Freddy Got Fingered is a 2001 Comedy starring and directed by Tom Green as the Non-Titular Gordon Brody; an aspiring animator who goes to California to realize his dream, only to be constantly crushed under the weight of his father’s expectations. Sounds tame at first, but what lies beneath the veneer of mediocrity is truly impressive. Completely bombed, audiences hated it, and critics loathed it. Roger Ebert got angry, saying “it isn’t even below the bottom of the barrel” and “Green should be flipping burgers somewhere.”. “Tasteless”, “appalling”, “offensive”, “gross”, and “poo poo,” are just some of the things people have had to say about this film. Animal genitalia can be seen on screen for much longer than anyone could have expected, Tom Green swinging a baby akin to a morning-star with its umbilical cord, said umbilical cord being stolen and taped onto his stomach, gratuitous caning of a nymphomaniac paraplegic, and the dissection of a deer carcass. It is an abrasive experience that leaves a terrible taste in the mouths of those who mention it. Nonetheless, I love this movie.

You ever see a contemporary art exhibit that has a piece that just looks like garbage somebody left out but in actuality is a tongue-and-cheek allusion to the pitiful state of modern art? That garbage is Freddy Got Fingered, and that exhibit is Hollywood. At face value it just seems like a poorly done film by a comedian trying to use his name to get a few butts in the seats before his irrelevancy arrives, but when scrutinized as a commentary of comedy films do the pieces start to fall into place. Tropes like the Protagonist being an unremarkable honkey, gross-out designed to get some cheap quick chuckles, side-characters who occupy the space solely for comedic relief, a shoe-horned romantic side-plot, and an equally as shoehorned in happy ending are all present in a mocking fashion. So many of these Hollywood schlockfests that this movie is paying homage to abuse tropes in some vain attempt to trick the audience into thinking they’re having a good time, when in reality it just reminds viewers of films that they’ve already watched before and could be enjoying instead. All of the awkward and uncomfortable scenes of gross-out and romance are purposeful, because nothing is quite as awkward and uncomfortable than a film disengaging the audience with its own mediocrity. “This is what it’s like to endure this trash!” Drunkenly screams Freddy Got Fingered atop the tallest piece of furniture in the room, while also exposing its genitals to keep you from getting too comfortable around it. Unlike the films it is parodying, its obsession with making a fool out of audiences rips them away from the comfort of the cinema, making them genuinely ask if it is worth wasting their time watching a film called Freddy Got Fingered. Even the title is an intentional slight, as it seems to be completely untethered to the actual plotline and is instead a reference to a seemingly inconsequential scene. But then again, that is the point of it all. Tom Green is an artist, and on his canvas is a portrait of Hollywood with all of the ugly little imperfections that cause a movie like this to be created. But this is just the meta-narrative of Freddy Got Fingered, something that you could find all over the internet. Why do I resonate with it so much, and what about it makes it so exceptional that led to this unhealthy fascination?

Every instance that I’ve rewatched Freddy Got Fingered has always brought about a new side to it, and in the process leaves me craving for more. Gord is an interesting take on the average leading man. He is on the surface bland and inoffensive, made so in order to allow the majority of the audience to immediately identify with him, said group being 20-something skater guys with unrealistic expectations of themselves. Made especially ironic when after the introduction of Gord as an adept skateboarding rebel escaping from authority, he starts to show that in reality he is an unlikeable, bratty, entitled, and all around unpleasant person. Barely a scene passes before we see him masturbate a horse while exclaiming he is a farmer to his father who is not present, seemingly a crude gag but is in reality an insight into his low self worth caused by his imposter syndrome stemming from distant paternal relationship. I would like to remind you, dear reader, that I am still writing of Freddy Got Fingered, in case you were beginning to think I have lost my mind (The answer is yes by the way). All throughout the film Gordon Brody puts on masks for different situations, never allowing himself to be who he is. When infiltrating the Animation studio where he wishes to pitch his cartoons, he pretends to be a mailman to get past reception and then impersonates a police officer when the former stops being effective. Donning the visage of a British Bobby, he dashes into the restaurant where the man he is searching for, Mr. Wallace, is eating. Showing him his cartoons, Wallace is impressed with the potential they have, but says that they are incoherent and lack real substance. Upon rejection, Gord puts a pistol in his mouth before Wallace stops him and advises what he should do to improve. Gord was genuinely ready to blow his brains out the back of his skull if he wasn’t able to get his show greenlit, and it hit me in that moment that he isn’t just some random jackass, but a victim of detrimentally low self-esteem.

The origins of his complex are made apparent when he goes back home to Oregon and are reintroduced to his Family. We see that his father Jim, played by Rip Torn, is disappointed in his return and begins to sneer at him for his failure. This father and son dynamic always has tension in every scene from this point onwards. Gord, who just wants to be accepted for who he is and not judged by what the world expects him to be, is always at the receiving end of Jim’s wrath, who values his idea of a successful life over the happiness of his sons. From here it becomes little wonder why Gord is the way he is, all his life he was told that who he was is not good enough, he has to be what his father wants if he is to be considered worthy of not only love, but being treated with a modicum of dignity. Whenever Gord acts eccentric or divulges his interests to his father, they are met with either resentment supplemented by verbal assault, or physical violence. After a late-night skateboard outing to escape from his father’s wrath goes awry, he visits his convalescing friend in the hospital, whereupon he meets one of the more interesting characters in relation to Gord, the love interest Betty.

A horny wheelchair bound temptress may not seem like it upon first glance, but Betty is actually the most interesting character out of the entire cast. She feels genuine, introduced as a bored receptionist flipping a coffee creamer idly. Gord immediately strikes up a conversation, whereupon he and the audience find out she has an interest in physics, and apparently an interest in him as well. Betty is strangely well written for what most considered at the time to be a crass sexual joke, so much so that she would actually be a better protagonist than him. She is everything Gord is not, she’s smart, funny, ambitious, and kind to a fault. Even her side plot to create a rocket powered wheelchair makes for a much more unique plot than the one given. Even Gord reciprocates this sentiment in their meeting, lying that he is a stockbroker in an attempt to impress her. In fact, sectioning her off as just the dull protagonist's love interest is a jab at how women in these movies are only there to serve in the development for the male protagonist, just nothing more than their muse. Nonetheless, without this relationship the movie would lose a lot of its soul. Romantic chemistry in comedy films is always hit or miss, but Gord and Betty do seem to have it surprisingly. They’re both silly and impulsive, creatively driven to a fault, but just different enough to eek out the best and worst in them. Gord thinks that what he wants to do with his life is wasteful, but Betty doesn’t. Now I don’t mean that she directly affirms that he is worthwhile like most poorly written love interests would, stroking their lover’s(and by extension the director’s) ego, rather she confronts him with her optimism. He asks if she would feel stupid and like a loser if her experiment failed. Taken aback at first, she questions why she would, relaying that her failures are just as important as her successes. Gord’s self-worth is directly tied to his ability to succeed, whereas Betty doesn’t need this affirmation. Their dialogue further cements how detrimental his father’s overbearingness was to his outlook, and how he is slowly beginning to realize how destructive that mindset is.

At their dinner date, Jim sees Gord and Betty across the restaurant, then reveals that Gord was lying to both him and her about his office job while poking fun at her disability, leading to a father-son scuffle that throws the entire floor into utter chaos. Cops show up, Gord and Jim are detained, and Betty bails Gord out. Most mediocre comedies at this point would have the love interest be upset that her significant other lied to her, leading to him having to make things right to repair their relationship before the happy ending. Breaking the mold, Betty does not get angry with Gord even a smidgen, choosing to be understanding of his situation now that she caught a glimpse into his home-life. She just plain likes Gord, willing to put up with him more than she really should, but still chooses to look past his lies and self-destructive nature for who he truly is, someone who just wants to be accepted by the world around him. Someone just like her.

Right after that enaction of social terrorism performed by the Brody father and son duo, they decide it would be best to go to family therapy and assail the audience with what I fondly refer to it as, “The Scene.” “The Scene” is Freddy Got Fingered’s statement to the world, it is what instills a man with the impetus to rewatch a glorified stoner daydream for the ninth time and leave him wanting more! Gord accuses his father, in a final act of defiance, of molesting his younger brother Freddy. During the ensuing confusion Gord picks up a bust of Sigmund Freud and throws it into the glass window pane, allowing him to escape into the evening sun. The authorities take Freddy away and send him to The Home for Molested Children, and the family slowly unravels from then on. Besides the heavy handed metaphor of Freud’s theories being used as a way for Gord to escape his predicament while simultaneously discrediting them, “The Scene” also recontextualizes Freddy, innocuous of a character as he is, as Gord’s foil. He is in the movie very little but when he is it is to serve one of two purposes: To be compared to Gord, or to be treated as an object. During breakfast much earlier in the film after a fight between Gord and Jim, Freddy tries to explain to his brother that he should grow up. Gord, surprisingly, talks down to him and halts the conversation.

Gord: “He's driving me insane.”

Freddy: “No. No, you're driving him insane. You're older than me and you still live at home. I have a job, you know. I pay my own way.”

Gord: “You work in a bank. Should I be dazzled?”

Freddy: “Well, at least I don't live at home!”

Gord: “No, you live in a tiny shithole and you come here to eat for free.”

With these lines it is plain to see that despite Freddy’s idea of success directly lining up with his father’s, he is even more pitiful than Gord. What little we know of him is to show that his acquiescence to his father’s expectations has left him bereft of not only genuine personal success, but of dignity itself. When child protective services come to take him away, he is half naked, mouth agape, watching open heart surgery on television, a palpable indication of emptiness. He isn’t treated as an adult either, as his protests to the police fall on deaf ears as both them and the psychologist infantilize him. Why would Tom Green name this movie after a character like Freddy, whose lack of presence and characterization make him little more than an afterthought when looking back on the story? Or did I just answer my own question? Freddy is not a character because he is not allowed to be one, he is just too passive and accepting of his circumstances for him to stand out. All he can be is a doll that Jim uses to dress up as the perfect son, and this passiveness leads to Gord, the “failure,” to both pity and resent what he let himself become. That’s why Gord accuses their father of molesting him, after all he does narratively violate Freddy’s autonomy by consistently making decisions for him. Evidently enough, as soon as Gord dons a suit for a quick bit Jim is elated because he believes that his son finally gave in to his demands for him to get a job, because he is acting more like his obedient brother. In this sense Freddy is the most tragic member of the Brody clan, a literal manchild whose growth was stunted by overbearing guardians. When I think of him, a bonsai tree comes to mind. Sure, it looks healthy, but when you realize that it could have grown into a much bigger plant if it were not for its small pot, that realization of wasted potential comes with a tinge of melancholy.

I want to end this essay with a moral that I took away from Freddy Got Fingered, as strange enough as that sounds, and what it has to say about art as a whole. Put simply, this is a story about revenge. Despite and because of his Father’s harsh ways, Gord managed to take from the trauma he sustained throughout his life and sublimated it into his animation. Creation not only lets him heal, but also acts as retaliation against Jim once he becomes successful. So long as you have the drive to prove everyone’s doubts and admonishments wrong by persevering out of wicked spite, you will have the last laugh. Freddy Got Fingered is a story about revenge through artistic expression, and I think that is quite beautiful.

#freddy got fingered #tom green #movies #essay paper #comedy

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

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Becoming A Stark? (13) Peter Parker x Stark! femReader

Word Count: 2881

Warning: Swearing, because it’s me lol

Author’s Note: Let me know if you want to be tagged on future chapters of this:) Enjoy!

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

Pepper promised not to show your dad the permission slip. You didn’t want him to appear out of nowhere during the field trip and ruin everything. The fact that your name on the building wasn’t enough of a permission slip alone apparently, so that was where Pepper came into everything. You had her sign the slip and then turned it into Mr. Shah.

“So the Avengers won’t be there when we visit?” Betty asks you as you and Astrid walk towards the bus with her.

“If you’re asking if Bruce will be there, the answer is no. I haven’t seen him since basically you guys came over for dinner that first time. He’s off world or something.” You file into the back of the bus, before you see that it’s not only your class getting on the bus. “Who’s the other class that’s joining us?”

“Mr. Harrington- Teaches junior sciences and decathlon. I think it’s the decathlon team that’s coming with though. Yeah, has to be. Look there’s Liz!” Betty waves to Liz through the window. Decathlon, that means…

“Fancy meeting you here Y/N.” Peter’s voice comes from the seat in front of you. “Stark Industries? Didn’t think you would even be interested in visiting.”

“I thought it would be an enrichment opportunity. See what the public sees Parker.” You smirk at him. “What about you? You going to give the tour?” Before he can respond, a voice from a few seats in front of him calls towards him.

“Penis Parker, you harassing Y/N Stark? Just wait until we get to the SI and her dad sees that you follow her around like a lost puppy. He won’t want trash near her. He’ll want people of his own caliber near her.”

“Just ignore him.” Peter pleads softly. He should have guessed that a Stark doesn’t walk away from a problem though.

“Eugine right?” You ignore the fact that everyone calls him Flash. He looks up at being addressed by a Stark. “I don’t think my dad would appreciate you calling his personal intern Penis. But I can check with him. In the meanwhile, I’d like to keep garbage away from me. And by that, I mean you.” Flash goes quiet and turns around in his seat.

“That probably will just make him worse.” Peter says, looking over his seat as he talks to you.

“And if it does, I’ll call a few Avengers to deal with him. Maybe I’ll get Dad to call Spider-Man. I hear Eugine is a huge fan. Wouldn’t it be great to see him get a talking to from him?”

“Sure, but I don’t think Spider-Man does that kind of thing.” The kid sitting next to Peter glances at him, trying to get an answer from him that you don’t understand.

“I’m Y/N.” You offer a hand to him, trying to figure out who this other kid is.

“Ned. I know who you are. You’re like all Peter talks about. Well like besides Mr. Stark and like-” Peter’s hand goes over Ned’s mouth.

“That’s not at all true. And I think you’ve said enough Ned.”

“I’d love to hear more.” You say with a smirk. Peter talks about you? “What else does he say?” Peter shakes his head at Ned.

“Is it true that you know the Avengers?” Ned changes the subject.

“Yeah? They lived at the tower with us for a while. Then they didn’t. Now we don’t live at the tower.” You explain with a shrug.

“So who’s the best Avenger?”

“Don’t I have to say Iron Man by default?”

“No. You could say anyone. Like Black Widow, or Spider-Man, or even Falcon.”

“Spider-Man isn’t an Avenger. He works on his own?” You say, the question in your voice.

“Really? I thought he joined the Avengers from time to time, but maybe I heard wrong. You know news can be made up. Who’s to say what’s true and what’s not these days?” Peter elbows Ned to try and get him to shut up.

“I haven’t heard anything from the Avengers about him joining. I teased my dad that Spider-Man would yeet him off a building. Spider-Man is probably too cool to be an Avenger anyway.”

“I think Spider-Man would join the Avengers if given the chance.” Peter throws out quickly.

“I’ll tell my dad you think so.”

“Is your dad going to join the tour?” Astrid asks from across the aisle.

“God I hope not. I had Pepper sign the permission slip so that I wouldn’t have to tell him I was coming.”

“Why would him knowing you’re coming to the tower be a bad thing?” Betty asks.

“Because, you know how bad he can be when you guys just come over for dinner? Well imagine him doing that in front of our entire class plus the decathlon team. It would be awful.” You turn to look Peter in the eyes. “If you text him and tell him we’re coming I swear I will end our Snapchat streak.”

Peter throws his hands up. “I didn’t mention it. I honestly was more worried about him embarrassing me if he knew I was coming and I’m not even his kid.”

“Good.” Your bus pulls up in front of the building you had called home until you had moved into the brownstone in Queens. As you file off the bus, a very familiar voice gives instructions.

“Everyone will need to wear their visitor badges at all times. At the end of the tour you will return them. So do not lose them. Also you will go through the scanners before you are able to enter the upper floors.” Happy hasn’t spotted you or Peter near the back of the group after getting off the bus in front of the tower.

“Do you think I get a visitor badge?” You whisper to Peter.

“I hope so. Or else Happy might have to kick you from the building.” Peter whispers back.

“That would be the best thing for the paparazzi to see. Head of Security kicks Tony Stark’s child out of SI.” You say with a laugh. “Pepper would never get home tonight having to deal with that press.”

“Ok, who are our two trouble makers in the back who aren’t paying attention?” Happy’s voice raises and you and Peter are suddenly the center of attention. “Should have guessed it. You two better have your badges, I only have visitor badges for non staff and family.”

“Damn Happy I thought I’d get to be a visitor.”

“Your name is on the building kid. You don’t get to be a visitor.” Happy kids with a smile then returns to his no nonsense face. “Just like airport security. Bags and anything in your pockets go through the scanners. Then you pass through the metal detectors. Peter, Y/N- go through your normal entrance.” There is a separate scanner for those who have special clearance, limited to the Avengers, Pepper, Happy, you, and a few others that you don’t know of off the top of your head. It’s a quick body scanner done by FRIDAY as you enter through a door. Just to appease Happy you clip the badge that you never really need to wear since you are never really at the tower onto the bottom of your forest green cardigan. Peter has pulled his out too and clips it to his decathlon blazer.

“Y/N, Peter. Shouldn’t you be at school?” FRIDAY’s voice speaks as you both walk through the scanner.

“Field trip FRI.” You use your dad’s nickname for FRIDAY, not even realizing you did. You walk over to meet back with the group, hoping that this field trip goes off without a hitch.

Up on the sixty seventh floor, Tony is jamming out to Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC as it plays off of your playlist that he’s grown to just ignore the name of it. He’s learned that Tony Stark Can Rot is your upbeat playlist while I Hate My Life is your more slow music. But both have good music on them, ignoring the couple of Taylor Swift songs that shuffle on every now and then. And it makes him feel closer to you, so he’s grown used to playing one of the two while he works, especially when you’re at school. On his datapad, he’s running the numbers for a new attempt at the closed loop system. He wants to nail this for you. But a couple of the components just aren’t working.

“Boss, Y/N is 75 and dropping.”

“Text her and see if she’s correcting.” When you’re at school, there’s not too much he can do but wait for a response.

“She’s on the 34th floor. Should I have someone take her a snack?”

“Y/N is here? At the tower? But it’s a school day?”

“She and Peter are on a field trip.” Both his kids are here and no one told him? Well, maybe a break would be better right now.

“I’ll take her a snack.”

“Here we have…” You can’t fully focus on the voice speaking in front of you. You know you should check your blood sugar. The lack of focus usually means you’re either dropping low or running really high. With all the walking around the tower, your bet is dropping.

“You ok?” Peter asks from next to you. Though he can’t tell anyone, his spider sense is on high alert. And you’re not looking too good. Your face is pale and your eyes don’t seem to be focusing. Plus your hands seem to be shaking ever so slightly. You almost seem to be shifting in your spot and he wants to reach out and grab you.

“I got this one kid.” A very familiar voice speaks from behind the two of you, but you don’t even react to it.

“Mr. Stark I think she’s low.” Peter starts to say but Tony wraps an arm around you and starts to lead you to a chair.

“I know. FRIDAY told me.” Betty hears Tony’s voice from the middle of the group and pulls Astrid towards it.

“Is Y/N ok?”

“‘M fine.” You slur ever so slight. Tony screws the cap off the apple juice he grabbed from the kitchen on his way down here.

“She’s just low. She’ll be fine as soon as she has some sugar.” He offers you the open juice. Your hand reaches to take it, but he even notices the shaking as you try to take it. “Bambina, you’re ok. You just need to drink.” You take a couple hesitant sips. “Why didn’t you treat already?”

“Didn’t feel it.”

“I know you don’t feel your lows. That's why you have Wallace.” Your hypo-unawareness was nothing of a secret.

“Didn’t feel Wallace.” You shrug as you drink some more juice.

“Is that Tony Stark?” A voice from the other side of the room says. Peter notes that it’s Flash, but says nothing, more worried about you. Tony and you don’t even hear it. However, Mr. Shah notices you sitting in the chair with Tony basically holding you.

“Is everything alright Y/N?” He asks, trying to not act like being around Tony Stark is as big of a deal as it is.

“‘M low.” You say.

“Drink some more. You’ll feel better if you do bambina.” Tony doesn’t even look up at Mr. Shah. He’s too focused in on you.

“Don’t want it.” Your stubbornness with your lows sneaks in.

“I know, but it’s either this or we head over to the medbay and Dr. Cho can give you an IV.”

“Fineeeeeeeee.” You draw out the last syllable as you force some more juice down.

“Mr. Stark, I’m Flash Thompson-”

“If you don’t get out of my face, Happy will escort you out of the tower before you can say Avengers.” Tony snaps, not caring who this kid is. Right now his only thought is getting your numbers high enough for you to be back to his normally sarcastic but loving kid. “FRI what’s Y/N’s number?”

“68 and dropping still.”

“Pete, run down the hall and grab something with carbs. Cookies, chips, soda, candy. Anything.”

“Of course M-Tony.” Peter would normally just call him Mr. Stark, but since Flash was just shut down, he wants to show him how close they are. Then he remembers what he was just asked and basically sprints down the hall to where SI keeps a bunch of snacks on hand. He grabs the first things he sees that are high carb- some chocolate chip cookies and a packet of Skittles. He also grabs a soda at the last second to be safe. Making his way back to where you sit, leaning against Tony��s shoulder he offers the snacks to you. “Which sounds better, cookies, skittles, or soda?”

“Death.” You mumble.

“Not an option on the table kiddo. So how about you take one of the three Pete offered?” You fling a hand out and snatch one of the three not really caring. “Mr. Shah, I’ll keep Peter here in case I need him to grab more things for Y/N, but I don’t want the rest of the group to lose out on their tour. We can catch up with you when Y/N is back up in range.”

“If you’re sure Mr. Stark.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve had to deal with stubborn blood sugars.” Tony says before turning his attention to the group as you munch on the cookies you don’t really want to eat. “Lilly, keep going with the tour. I’ll keep Peter and Y/N. They’ll catch up.”

“Sure Mr. Stark. Let’s continue on this way.” The actual intern leads the group on as Mr. Harrington, Mr. Shah and the rest of the students follow. Astrid and Betty’s eyes trail behind, watching Y/N, but they know your dad won’t let anything happen to you. After the group is out of the room, Tony’s attention stays on you, but his question turns to Peter.

“So I’m Tony now?”

“Uh not if you don’t want to be Mr. Stark.”

“No take backs. I heard it. The group heard it. Happy probably heard it down on the first floor. I just was wondering what changed.”

“Eugine.” You mumble over a mouthful of cookies.

“Who’s Eugine?” Tony asks you.

“Flash. Thompson. That kid that tried to introduce himself while Y/N was crashing.” Peter clarifies as you open the soda that your dad doesn’t allow in the house. Will he buy it if you’re in the city and crashing, sure. But will he stock it in the house? Never. However, after growing up around the sticky drink, you’ve missed the taste. “He doesn’t want to believe that I actually intern with you.”

“So calling me Tony?”

“You called me Pete. It felt right.”

“Well if it feels right, keep doing it.” Tony’s attention goes back to you. “How you feeling kiddo?”

“Like death microwaved over.”

“FRI what’s her number?”

“68 and stable.”

“Well that’s better than dropping still.” Tony says. He looks at the soda in your hand. “I think that’s probably not needed.” You hold it away from his outstretched hand.

“I’m still low.”

“That is full of crap. Let me get you a green juice or something?” You scrunch your face.

“I’ll pass. You already make me drink one at breakfast. I only get these when I’m low.” You say before taking another sip. Peter should be surprised, but the part of him that pays attention isn’t that surprised. He’s never seen soda around the Tower when you lived there or at the brownstone when he’s at the labs. “Do I really have to catch back up with the tour group? It’s actually kind of boring.” You ask.

“I can see if you can sit in with Pep. It would make more sense for you than going on the public tour anyway.”

“Why with Pepper? Can’t I just go chill out upstairs or something?”

“You’re supposed to take over the company one day. If I’m pulling you from the field trip, I’m going to make sure you’re still getting an educational day. At least if I leave you with Pepper, you’re still learning stuff.” You’re hesitant. Sure it’s years away from the day you have to make an actual decision, but you have no real plans to take over the company. But a day spent with Pepper sounds more fun than going on a tour that’s 100% science based anyway. “Or,” Your dad adds sensing some hesitation, “You can come work with me on some stuff.”

“Like in the lab?” You and Peter ask at the same time.

“That is where I work on stuff.”

“I would mess everything up.” You reply honestly.

“Can I come work?” Peter asks, hoping to get out of the tour he doesn’t need either.

“And take you away from learning about what SI is working on? No. Kid, I want to see what you think of what we’re working on. So let’s get you back with the group. Y/N, I’ll let Mr. what’s his name-”

“Mr. Shah.”

“Mr. Shah, know that I’m pulling you for official Stark business and then take you to Pep.”

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan @teenwishes08 @iamthescarlettwitch

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfic #Tony Stark #tony stark can't be dead if you just don't let yourself believe it #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x daughter!you #Pepper Potts #mr harrington #betty brant #astrid #flash thompson #imanativeofswlondondahling #becoming a stark?

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ewdaviddd · 4 years

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folklore think piece

for a lower case album such as this, i will be writing a lowercase think piece on the subject. i will not explain why. you get it or you don’t.

the 1: i have never been in love or any type of romantic relationship that left me with lasting feelings of any kind. but, on my fourth listen through of this song today, what once was just a promising and fun intro to this peasant girl summer gut punch, brought me to actual tears as i sat on the toilet in my lime green childhood bathroom as if i were mourning the one that got away (another great song). however, i am an expert on being hung up on the past, the “what could have been”, and made up hypotheticals. this song also introduces the film motif seen a lot in this album. i think dating an actor has really gotten to her. anyway what a killer way to begin, top notch stuff. how can a song be so fun and so soul crushing at the same time?

cardigan: when did taylor wear black lipstick? this is important to me. an old cardigan is an inherently bisexual article of clothing. that is not an opinion. i read it somewhere today and i believe it. this is the tip of the queer-coding ice berg in folklore, never fear. another reference, “tried to change the ending / peter losing wendy”. this year i wrote a movie script where both peter and wendy were both gay. coincidence? probably. basically this one is classic taylor poetry on every level and it being one of a trio in a larger story makes it that much better. yet again, high school romance is not a universal experience (like for me for instance) but haunting my “what-ifs” is going to haunt me for a long time. and the thought of someone saying i was their favorite cardigan makes me want to scream into a pillow.

the last great american dynasty: my favorite ts songs have always been the ones with detailed characters and stories and this one introduces the trope of the “mad woman” who comes back later on as well a long with many fun character details. at first this song is just cheeky and cute, very visual, a fun world to jump into. but then this particular stretch of lines makes your heart drop into your chest and reminds you why taylor isn’t just always fun and always cute and always creative, she also holds the ability to nimbly sock you in the gut when you least expect: “fifty years is a long time / holiday house sat quietly on that beach / free of women with madness, their men and bad habits / and then it was bought by me.” my jaw is still on the floor. and i’ve never bought a house myself. but i’ve spent numerous christmases having a marvelous time ruining everything (so i’ve been told) so this song still applies to my life.

exile (ft. bon iver): i’m gonna be honest. for as long as i can remember i have strongly disliked bon iver and i never remembered why. it is a matter of principle at this point. i just don’t trust him. but then taylor announced she wrote a song with him which filled me with tremendous anxiety. but i can rest easy. much like “the last time” this song is a ts and male artist collaboration i can get behind. also the film motif again: the only time i’ve left a theatre when i didn’t like a movie was never because movie tickets are so expensive and if i’m shelling out 11 dollars to sit in a chair, i’m staying the whole time no matter how bad the ending. but i probably would have left my sister’s keeper if i had seen it before if i’m being honest. so i get it. thats why i read spoilers for everything i watch before watching it, because the anxiety of worrying about how it ends make me not enjoy it in the first place. the end of this song: the call and response felt… ethereal? i felt like i was watching a broadway musical from the splash zone seats, crying as i was spat on.

my tears ricochet: this song is what i picture stepping outside in the middle of the night when an inch or so of snow has just fallen and i can see the flakes fall in front of a street light sounds like. or the scorned secret ex lover throwing themselves onto the coffin demanding to know why they weren’t enough. which is to say it feels like a sign from some sort of god. yet again, haunting is brought up, an overt reference to the fact that this album will live in my brain rent free for eternity. for some reason this song reminds me of the relationship between hamilton and burr when burr kills hamilton. that could be because i just watched the disney+ recording last week. one lives, one dies, but neither survive, both pay for it. Which is a super romantic and understanding view on murder. both musical experiences equally chilling and moving. if i die under mysterious circumstances this will for sure be played at the funeral.

mirrorball: first off, this is my mom's favorite which is very important. also, it has skewered a very specific but also universal insecurity of mine; existing just to please others and yet miserably failing. it is comforting that ts is not a “natural’ and feels she must always “try try try” because i too lack natural ability, but also rarely “try” even just the one time. the best way i can describe listening to this song is walking through a silent disco where everyone else is listening to some classic lady gaga jam and you are listening to a calming lullaby sung very far away. but don’t let the soothing sounds fool you. it still will have you reflecting on what it means to look and be looked at. a dark rabbit whole, like falling through the looking glass. i’ve never actually read that book though so i could be wrong.

seven: i’m dumb and on my first listen of this song i thought she “hit her peak” at 7 clock as opposed to age seven. but i always saw taylor swift as someone with an early bedtime. also a fun discovery while writing this, “seven” is the 7th song on the track list. clever. although this song is young and innocent and so nostalgic for a time when screaming ferociously was a widely accepted form of expression, it also sounds like a very old secret someone is whispering to me. a love from long ago that lasts beyond the person being in your life, passed down to me and it all just sounds a little gay. not just because of the specific line to hiding in the closet. but that certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. when i was seven i was definitely in love with girls and assumed that was just what friendship was, playing pirates and making plans of running away together.

august: the eighth track for the eighth month. her mind. also my birth month so that’s special. controversial opinion: from what i’ve read most people seem to think illicit affair is the third song in the triage of teen love. i will strongly make the case that it's actually this one. first of all, the subject: a short lived summer fling, which is specifically mentioned later in “betty”. the central heartbreak of this song is liking someone who always belonged to someone else. yes, this song is a window into a different summer, far from pandemic central and the escapist imagery is delightful. but a whole song from the pov of the “other woman” to james and betty is just so much more fun. and there are two more specific lyrics that prove my point. “remember when i pulled up and said "get in the car”” you will see later comes back from the other person’s perspective. and most of all: the repeated line, “meet me behind the mall”? only teenagers make plans to meet up behind a mall. i rest my case. so now we have cardigan and august. two pieces of the puzzle.

this is me trying: i’m glad i now have a succinct message to send to anyone when they ask me what the hell i’m doing at any given moment. this song just sounds like regret and waste in the most self-assured and confident way. this is “back to december” with the training wheels off. i have no apologies for my efforts at wasting all my potential. but in this song, taylor has opened her arms to me in a warm embrace and has forgiven me for all i’ve done wrong and reminds me to not take for granted the “try”. okay mom. i’m crying again, but okay.

illicit affair: this is the kind of thing that makes you feel sixteen, living in a dull suburb, while secretly screwing your 38 year old married neighbor who’s rich but wants to be an artiste. aka like a character in euphoria or something. it’s sexy and dangerous until you think about it and then it's just dingy and creepy. but this song starts and stays beautiful. most importantly, this song is too sad and depressing frankly, to be a part of the trilogy. we could never forgive james for leaving such a mess and making her a fool. you don’t want to be this girl. you want to walk up to her and shake her and yell “you exist and will not be ruined by any dumb man”. and that’s feminism.

invisible string: is it reductive if i say this one’s about joe? all my non-stan friends have asked me which ones are about him. we forgive them and point them in this direction. because it is lovely and beautiful that we are all tied to our soulmate for our whole lives before we ever meet them (because that would in fact mean that there is someone out there for everyone which might be naive or dumb but i am both of those things and whats the point of living if you don’t believe in the power of love). this honestly gives me “begin again” vibes in the best way. it’s red-era level with the wisdom of lover-era tay. sublime.

mad woman: the second mention of the “mad woman” as both taylor herself and the character in the story. as usual, tay stays calling out double standards and the manipulation of women into “going crazy” for expressing reasonable anger. I, personally, wish i could say “fuck you forever” without someone saying i’m “overreacting”. this is my least favorite song on the album and i’d still listen to it three times in a row and need to resist the urge to set a man’s lawn on fire. just girly things.

epiphany: i know she said this one is about her grandfather’s experience in the military but all i imagine is a slow montage of harry style’s character in “dunkirk” on the beach. and it’s beautiful. and much like my sophomore in high school self reading “all quiet on the western front” it evokes a pain from deep inside me that engulfs a loss i could never describe and a sadness too awful to witness. you will listen to this song and feel absolutely powerless to the will of the universe and it’s cruelty. and the faint but steady heart monitor beep in the background… i’ve never seen “grey’s anatomy” but i can imagine why it has so many fans sobbing. and let me end on this: two soldiers in some old war (meaning both men based on dunkirk) watching each other like this and living and dying together…gay.

betty: the first verse was pulled directly out of my subconscious fantasy of being in love in high school and it being so wonderful and painful and dramatic. and taylor riding a skateboard… is a mood. the song has been out for less than a week and it’s already a cold take to talk about how this is her gayest song to date (close runner-ups being reputation’s “dress” and “cardigan”). but of course i will still talk about it. the lyrics embody such authentic awkward gay energy (see the lesbian in booksmart for reference) and having been a 17 year old only three years ago, i can say with reasonably good authority that no 17 year old straight boy could stand in front of a crowd of peers and beg forgiveness from a girl he hurt. it’s just not realistic. these are all awkward, over-dramatic, young girls stumbling through love. and it’s awesome. james is the speaker of this song, and the subject of “august”, the summer fling that was never truly there due to james’ love for betty, the titular role of this song. thus completing the love triangle. and there are so many obvious references in this song to both “august” and “cardigan”. rhyming cardigan with car again makes me want to light myself on fire in the best way. i love it. “i dreamt of you all summer long” is the final nail in the coffin for the girl in “august” who was clearly just a place-holder. totally separate from taylor swift, my favorite word is porch. so the amount of times it appears in her lyrics is wonderful. say it out loud. it just feels nice. anyway, this song makes me want to be young and dumb and in love. the second can really only be tolerated because of the first and third. i hope the story has a happy-ending. if james were a boy i’d wish him the plague.

peace: the coming-of-age movie starring james and betty (and inez) is over. we have come to “the age” i guess. there’s a thought that’s gonna fester. if this song was just the line, “would it be enough if i could never give you peace?” over and over for four minutes it would still smash me to pulp and fill my body with helium gas. i can and will cause a car wreck when this comes on the aux. if this song is what being grown up is like (bare in mind grown up to me is like, 30) then i’m ready to be done coming of age. because i already worry if i’ll be at all enough for anyone and way too much for someone at the same time. but like all good poetry, this song isn’t about what it “means”, but how it “feels”. and this is new york city, the summer, pouring rain, a long walk home, desperately fearing and hoping they are there waiting for you.

hoax: a one-sided conversation between me and my stubborn clinical depression. i too, constantly stand alone on the cliff demanding a reason. one has not yet been presented. it operates both within and and against me. i could be bigger and stronger than it. but instead i tend to it like a prickly plant. (“no other sadness in the world will do”). there is nothing both sadder and funnier then the scene in “avatar: the last airbender” when prince zuko stands alone on a cliff screaming at the sky for lightning to strike him. i don’t know why this song reminds me so much of that. what a way to end such an emotional rollercoaster. it is so emotionally draining that it simply forces me to start folklore again from the top and listen to it all over again. or take a long therapeutic nap.

there are no skips. and it will still surprise you on your 267th listen. proceed with caution.

i knew you, in a past life maybe. i have not met you yet, but folklore has made me believe you exist.

@taylorswift 10/10 good work

@taylornation this had to be shared and i don’t have a twitter so

#@taylorswift #@taylurking #@taylornation #taylor swift #folklore #ts8

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