request: Hello! I was hoping you could do
a Jughead imagine where him and the reader are pre-relationship and the reader
confesses their love almost every day but Jug is too caught up in his writing
to notice? (Bonus if the other parts of the CoreFour are involved). Thanks!
Pairing: Jughead Jones x Reader
Description: Everyday (Y/N)
confesses her feelings for Jughead but they’re never heard
Warnings: one swear word
Word count: 1,201
A/N: ahh everyone thank you so much for all the kind
responses to my first imagine!! hope you enjoy!
We sat in our usual booth at Pop’s: him
feverishly writing his story and me staring at him as smitten as can be.
“Jughead?” I asked, glancing at the raven-haired
boy sitting across from me.
“Hmm?” he hummed, eyes remaining glued to the
“I just… I wanted to,” I paused for a moment,
taking a deep breath in. “I know we’ve
been friends for a while and that’s great, I love being your friend, but
sometimes I just think that… I don’t know, sometimes I want to be more.” He remained quiet, so I continued, “And if
you don’t feel the same that’s okay, I don’t want anything to ruin our
friendship.” I let out a big sigh and
looked up at Jughead. He was still
staring at his laptop. “Jughead!” I
exclaimed, causing him to jump slightly.
“What?” he asked.
My eyes widened.
“Did you not hear anything I just said?” I
inquired. Jughead’s eyebrows rose and he
bit his lip, breaking eye contact with me.
“I’m sorry, I was just really invested in my
story,” he apologized. I sighed and
shrugged, standing up.
“It’s fine, Jug, it wasn’t anything important,” I
assured him, grabbing my bag. “I’m gonna
head home, I have to work on my homework.”
He nodded and waved as I turned around and exited Pop’s. “Oh god,” I muttered under my breath as I
walked home, rubbing my temples.
Two days later, I found myself in the same
position: Jughead furiously typing and me preparing to confess my feelings.
“Jughead, I need to talk to you,” I said, more
demandingly than last time. Jughead
looked up from his laptop and nodded.
“Go ahead,” he said, then looked back down at his
“I-” Before I could start, Betty approached our
“Hey guys!” she greeted. I smiled, whereas Jughead kept his head
down. “Could I sit here with you guys?”
“Uh, yeah, of course,” I replied, scooching over
so she could sit next to me. She smiled
gratefully as she slid into the booth.
“Thanks, (Y/N). So what were you guys talking about before I
interrupted?” I bit my lip. Betty knew about my big crush on Jughead, all
of our friends knew. I glanced at her
and she nodded, understanding what I was trying to do. “Do you want me to leave?” she
whispered. I shook my head.
“No, no, you can stay.
Please, actually, I need the moral support.” She nodded and sat back in the booth. I sucked in a deep breath and started over, “So,
Jughead, as I was trying to say before, we’ve been friends for so long. But I like you. I’ve liked you for a while, and I even tried
to tell you a few days ago but you didn’t hear me. I just needed to tell you, and if you don’t
feel the same that’s fine. Just, please,
I want to at least stay friends with you no matter what.” Betty looked at me with a proud smile, subtly
sending me a thumbs up. Smiling back at
her, I turned to face Jughead.
“Jughead?” Betty asked, glancing between me and him. “Did you just hear what (Y/N) said?”
“Huh?” Jughead breathed, looking between me and Betty. “Betty, when’d you join us?” Betty and I exchanged a shocked glance, our eyes
wide and mouths agape. “What?”
“I’ve been here for five minutes,” Betty said, her voice
sharp. “Did you not hear anything (Y/N)
or I said?”
“Oh,” Jughead sighed.
“I did it again. I’m sorry, (Y/N). What were you trying to say?”
Betty started, “She was trying to tell you that she-”
“Has cheerleading practice tomorrow,” I interrupted
Betty. “I have cheerleading practice
tomorrow, and it’s gonna go pretty late, so I can’t meet you here tomorrow.” Betty cast me a disapproving glare, but
softened when I looked at her sadly.
Jughead, although usually clever and observant, did not notice this
“Okay,” he said, “that’s fine. You’ll still meet me here on Saturday though,
right?” I bit my lip, contemplating
making up an excuse. Quickly, I looked
to Betty for approval. She subtly
“Yeah of course,” I agreed cheerily. “Saturday.”
Jughead smiled and nodded. I
stood up and Betty followed suit, and we both exited the diner. Once we got outside, Betty stopped and turned
to look at me.
“What was that?” she whisper-yelled.
“I don’t know,” I groaned.
“It happened on Tuesday, too. He
never seems to hear me.”
“But you’re gonna try again, though,” she said. “Right?”
“I- I don’t know,” I sighed, and began walking. Betty followed suit. “I guess I’ll try again, but I don’t know,
maybe it’s not meant to be.”
“Not meant to be?” Betty repeated. “(Y/N), you and Jughead are, as Kevin likes
to say, endgame!” I laughed at the
terminology and shrugged, unable to think of a reply. “Please try, at least one more time.”
I assured her, “I’ll try.”
Two weeks later, I stood at my locker with Veronica and
Betty. Angrily, I slammed my locker
closed and then leaned up against it.
“It’s pointless!” I groaned, lightly banging my head against
the locker. “For two weeks I’ve tried,
two whole weeks! Every day, I go into
Pop’s and tell myself, ‘This is the day.’
Then I sit with him, build up the courage, and I tell him. And every day, he doesn’t hear me. Every fucking day!” Veronica and Betty both shook their heads.
“I can’t believe him,” Veronica seethed. “That’s ridiculous, he has to have heard you
at least once. He’s not deaf.” Betty nodded in agreement.
“Just try talking to him without his laptop,” Betty
suggested. “Make sure that he has no
distractions, just you and him.”
“Thank you,” I smiled.
“I’ll definitely do that tonight at Pop’s.”
“Why do it tonight,” Veronica drawled, looking past me, “when
you can do it now?” I turned around to
see Jughead down the hallway.
“Oh no,” I whined. “Not
now, not here.”
Ignoring my objections, Veronica called out, “Jughead!” He looked at us and nodded, walking over to
where we stood.
“Hey,” he greeted, leaning against the lockers next to me.
“Hi,” I smiled, twiddling with my fingers. Betty and Veronica exchanged smirks and edged
away from us, still remaining within earshot.
“Listen, I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while and-”
“I know,” Jughead interrupted me. “And I never hear you. I know, I’m sorry.” I nodded, licking my lips.
“Yeah, it’s okay, I just feel like I should tell you now,
while I know I have your attention.”
Jughead laughed lightly. “I… I
like you, Jughead. More than friends.” Jughead’s eyes widened and I stopped. Every time he remained quiet at Pop’s I kept
going, but now I stopped, not knowing how to continue.
“You like me?” he asked.
“And you’ve been trying to tell me for two weeks?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. He
rubbed his face.
“Jesus,” he sighed. “I’m
“No, you’re not,” I told him. “I just- if you don’t feel the same way it’s
fine, but please don’t let this ruin our friendship. I couldn’t live with myself if-”
Meeting room nine was our room. It was identical to all of the other meeting rooms in every single way, yes, but it was our favorite. Every day at around 11:25 I’d walk past Violet’s cubicle with a quick, “9 at 12?” and she’d inattentively nod and go back to typing or stapling, and I’d continue my brisk walk back to my work station. Why I felt the need to confirm our usual habit was anyone’s guess, my insecurities would be on the top of that guess list though.
Of course it wasn’t just Violet and I. Ryan and Jennifer were there, too. I didn’t like them as much as Violet. Regardless, it was us four in room 9 at 12 noon everyday for lunch for the past four months. That was how it was, at least, until March 29th.
On March 29th, at 11:57 I sat in room nine with my lunch bag already open, its contents meticulously placed in front of me, my $1.50 bottled mountain dew to my right, my napkin to my left, and my sandwich and bag of pretzels in between. I was usually the first. In fact, I tried to be, so I could get in a little extra conversation with the second and third people to enter the room.
Ryan was first. “Hey, Ryan,” I said.
“Hey, man.” Ryan said.
I hated how he didn’t say my name. He knew my name. I gave him my expense reports all the time and my name was on each of those in three different places. He definitely knew my name, but he never said it. When I was in high school, one of my teachers told us that people really appreciate it when you use their name in conversations, and I remember thinking ‘Yes I do like that,’ so it bothered me greatly when Ryan didn’t say my name.
I was waiting to pick up my sandwich until the other two arrived. It was polite. In contrast, Ryan plopped down his white syrofoam box of Chinese and began chowing away. He used chopsticks and I hated him for it. The bag from the Chinese place came with little plastic white forks and knives. He was a show-off and always had been. He only ate with us because he was in Jennifer’s department and they knew each other well. If it was up to me, he wouldn’t be there.
The entry of Jennifer was a refreshing event. “Hey Jennifer,” I said.
Jennifer smiled and said hi to me. She used my name. Jennifer had a packed lunch, like me, and a really cute laugh. It was tough to make her laugh, so I tried to prepare a good joke or at least something humorous to say for when I was with her. We engaged in some light conversation.
It was 12:04 according to the very plain clock above the door, and I was worried Violet wouldn’t show. I was running out of conversation with Jennifer and didn’t want Ryan to steal the floor from me.
I had been preparing this line for a couple days, having thought of it a couple days ago. So, over the past couple days I had been refining it and practicing it, and I decided that it was the time to use it. I had prepared this thing for two days, keep in mind.
“You guys ever notice how there’s never any markers on the dry-erase board in here? How would you even use that thing if you wanted to?” I said, as best as I could, in a way that a comedian would say it.
My eyes darted to Jennifer’s face. After gazing over at the board, her face turned towards mine and she laughed! I was really happy about that. Ryan laughed too but I didn’t care.
“Where’s Violet?” I said, transitioning, trying to keep up the flow of conversation in the room. It was 12:05 now.
“Did you remind her?” Jennifer asked me.
Just then Violet walked into the room with her purple hair on her head (she had purple hair). Her name was Violet and she had purple hair. Probably not a coincidence.
“Sorry everyone, I had to print off copies for my meeting later.”
“That’s okay. No problem,” I said, speaking for everyone in the room.
“So… what did I miss?” she said, slapping her bag of McDonalds down on the table. I could only assume there was breakfast food in there. McDonalds didn’t start serving lunch food until lunch time, and I doubted she had time to make a run there during work hours. Still, though, she could have done it. Or it could have been day old lunch food.
“He tried to make a joke about how there’s never any markers by the dry-erase board,” responded Ryan before I had a chance to speak.
“What do you mean tried,” I said, my eyebrows scrunching up in an emotion in between annoyance and anger. “Both you and Jennifer laughed.”
Ryan chuckled, “We were laughing at you, man. You talk about the dumbest stuff.”
Jennifer laughed. But now I hated her laugh. Violet had a blank expression, like she probably agreed with him but cared enough about my feelings not to join in. I couldn’t handle this. I quickly packed up my lunch, and in my hurry accidentally dropped my opened but untouched bag of pretzels onto the carpet. I left them there, like I was a common litterer, and ran out of the room. I didn’t cry, but I really wanted to. After asking my boss for permission, I went home early and watched TV until dinner time, but I felt too sick to eat anything.
The worst part about the whole thing–the thing that still bugs me to this day–is I never found out if Violet’s McDonalds was lunch or breakfast food. When I finally mustered up the courage to ask her about it six days later, she claimed she had no idea what I was talking about at all.
A/N: i feel like there’s a very obvious difference between my writing for high school peter and college peter that almost seems less mature and idk if i’m into that or not but??? c’est la vie oh well i’m sorry if this is crap lol (also this is dedicated to @tomhollandxreader, thank you for motivating me my angel, i love you!!)
Peter Parker getting jealous when the reader gushes about Cap when watching one of those videos at school
summary:He’s never even spoken to her before, so how is he supposed to explain why his eyes never seem to leave her captivating figure or why he can’t seem to will away the tight ball of jealousy in his chest whenever he sees her talking to someone else?
“Ugh, he looks so good in that suit,” Peter heard someone say from across the crowded bleachers. His head shot up, easily recognizing the sound of her voice.
She was sitting three rows down, squished in between two of her friends as she stared dreamily at the small screen that was still displaying the fitness test introduction video, a small image of Captain America waving his arms around animatedly in an attempt to motivate his audience to “get up and get active!” flickering in and out of focus.
Peter’s eyebrows drew together as he watched her interact with her friends. Was she talking about… Captain America? He eyed her critically as she turned again to say something else, his heightened senses allowing him to hear her next statement.
“Although I bet he’d look better with it off,” she giggled behind her hand. Peter choked on the breath he’d been holding, startling Ned who had been flitting in and out of sleep for the past five minutes.
“Huh? What happened?” Ned asked, looking around dazedly until he focused on Peter’s dropped jaw. “What, Peter?”
“Uh… nothing! It’s… um.. It’s nothing!” Peter turned red and forced himself to look away from her laughing huddle of friends.
“Then why’d you just make a sound like a dying cat?” Ned questioned, watching as Peter turned his attention once again to her hunched and laughing figure. When Ned followed his gaze and caught sight of her small frame, he sighed in understanding. “Really, dude? One of these days,Y/N’s actually gonna catch you looking and report you for harassment or something.”
“Wha- no, Ned! I wasn’t watching Y/N!” Peter said defensively, turning to glare at his friend.
“Yeah right, Pete. What completely enthralling thing is she talking about this time?” he inquired sarcastically.
“Nothing!” Peter said, and then he heard her laugh, a tinkling, mellifluous thing that had him struck with such limerence that he thought he might stop breathing altogether. “Do you think I’m as attractive as Captain America?” he blurted, eyes still glued to her captivating profile.
“What? Dude, why would you ask me that?” Ned laughed, watching the screen down below quite intently for someone who’d been asleep for the entire first half. “Of course you’re not as attractive as Captain America. He’s a scientifically enhanced super-soldier and you’re a fifteen year old boy who’s still going through puberty.”
Peter sighed, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbing until he could see the phosphenes lighting up the dark, stars and colors dancing across his vision while Ned gave him a reassuring pat on the back.
“It’s alright, Peter. I’m sure Y/N would think you’re attractive. I mean, if you ever end up saying more than two words to her, that is,” Ned shrugged.
“Ned, you know I can’t talk to her. She’s popular. Can you imagine what she’d say if I ever approached her? Can you even imagine what I’d say? I’d probably screw everything up! Then she and Liz and Betty would make fun of me in front of everybody,” Peter whined quietly, burying his face in his hands.
“Peter, just-” The shrill sound of a whistle interrupted Ned’s sentence as Coach Wilson began shouting instructions at the startled class. “Shoot, what are we even doing? I haven’t been paying attention.”
Peter groaned, getting up and moving with the crowd towards the blue mats that formed a grid across the gym. “Sit ups, I think. Come on, let’s go grab a mat before all of the good ones are taken. If I have to use one of the old sweaty wrestling mats again, I might throw up,” he said, maneuvering his way around the lingering bodies.
Ned followed closely, offering to hold Peter’s feet first as they started the first round of sit ups. If he noticed that Peter managed to choose a spot only three mats away from Y/N’s, he didn’t say anything.
“You should just tell her about the ‘internship’,” Ned suggested quietly, halfheartedly holding Peter’s feet in place as he mused out loud. “That’d definitely impress her.”
“Ned, I can’t tell her about you-know-what just to get her to like me. I’ve told you before, Spider-Man’s not a party trick. If I ever talk to her, I want to do it as me, not him,” Peter explained, grunting softly as he pulled himself up repeatedly, stopping only when Coach Wilson was turned around on the other side of the gym.
“You wouldn’t have to tell her that part! Just casually mention that you know Captain America and you’re in! No one would suspect it now that everybody know that you’ve got the internship, anyway!” Ned exclaimed.
“Parker, Leeds, get back to work,” Coach Wilson reprimanded from his spot by the bleachers, hardly looking up from his phone.
“Sorry, coach,” Peter muttered, glaring slightly at Ned’s innocent smile.
“Look, Peter, it’s easy,” Ned reasoned, turning to face her mat. “Hey Y/N!”
Peter sat up in a panic, eyes widening in alarm. He turned in her direction, watching her wave back to Ned with the hand that wasn’t holding Liz’s ankles.
“Hey, Ned!” she responded with a bright smile.
“Ned!” Peter whispered loudly, trying to hide behind his friend so he wouldn’t be seen.
“Did you do the algebra homework yet? The last two questions killed me, I think,” Ned continued to speak over their neighbors’ heads, receiving glares and strange glances. Peter silently willed him to stop talking. He didn’t. “By the way, did you know Peter knows Captain America? They’re super tight!”
“Ned!” Peter repeated more firmly and out loud this time.
“No way!” she beamed, attention now fully on the two boys. “Do you really?”
Liz’s head also shot up as she pulled herself into a seated position, tuned intently into the conversation.
“Uh… n-no? I mean, yes? T-technically? I guess so? It’s complicated. I’ve seen him like… twice during my internship, but I wouldn’t say I know him know him,” he rambled, flushing when her lip quirked up in an amused smile.
“That’s so awesome! I bet he’s super cool! Does he look the same as he does in the videos? What’s he like? Is he nice? What am I saying? Of course he’s nice, he’s Captain America! Does he know who you are? Would he ever come here? Would-” she trailed off, noticing Peter’s dropped jaw and Ned’s giggling face.
“Oh, sorry. I’m rambling. Sorry. Wait, I already said that. Okay, I’m sorry. I mean! You know what I mean…” she blushed, biting her bottom lip to stop herself from saying any more.
“Um, no that’s okay! I guess he looks the same in real life. A little bigger, I suppose, and more lifelike, but overall the same. The last time I saw him he was sort of… in a bad mood? But I think he’s a nice guy,” Peter spoke cautiously.
“Oh! C-cool! Yeah, cool, that’s cool! Sorry, I said the word ‘cool’ like, three times in the past five seconds,” her blush deepened.
“You apologize a lot,” Peter stated without thinking. “I mean! Not that that’s a bad thing! I was just… observing! Yeah! Sorry!” he rushed, his own face beginning to turn red.
“It’s okay,” she smiled. “And sorry… for apologizing so much, you know.” She laughed awkwardly. A moment of awkward silence passed between them.
“Wow. That was painful,” Liz remarked, sharing a look with Ned. “I think I’m gonna go… grab a drink of water. Wanna come, Ned?”
“Yup! Water! Gotta go guys, sorry!” Ned stood abruptly, following Liz to the bleachers.
Y/N stood and made her way to Peter’s mat, sitting hesitantly across from him.
“Do you actually know Cap?” she asked, staring into his eyes so intensely that he had to look away.
“Y-yeah. I was telling the truth. Um, do you really think he looks good in that uniform?” he asked as he toyed with the aglet on the end of his shoelace.
She cocked her head to the side as a confused look overtook her features. “How did you know about that?”
“Huh? Know what? I didn’t say anything,” he sputtered, tugging the shoelace with a fervor.
“I mean, I was talking about Cap’s uniform with Betty and Liz while we were watching the video earlier, but you weren’t sitting anywhere near me. How’d you know what I said?” her eyebrows furrowed as she stared Peter down.
“Um… I’m really good at reading lips?” He coughed in an attempt to divert her attention from his little slip-up. “Anyway, how’d you know where I was sitting?”
Now was her turn to become flustered. “Um. What? I mean. I just saw you across the room. Not like I was looking for you or anything! I just happened to spot you and Ned,” she rushed, pushing down a dent in the surface of the mat.
“Right…” Peter squinted, trying to decipher the meaning of her statement.
“And don’t pretend like you’re not staring at Liz all the time! We see you, you know. You’re like, always looking at her with this completely smitten look on your face,” she smiled wistfully, still focused intently on the spot on the mat that kept puffing back up after she poked it down.
Peter scrunched his nose in confusion. Why did she think he was always staring at Liz? “Um, what?” he asked, tilting his head slowly.
“Duh, Peter. You stare at her all day like you’re in love with her. It’d be creepy if it weren’t kind of cute,” she admitted with a shrug, sounding a bit disappointed.
“Um… I don’t recall ever looking at Liz like that?” his eyebrows furrowed.
“Then why are you always watching us? Liz and Betty have both noticed it, too,” she mentioned.
“Wha-” Peter began, but then a niggling thought poked at the back of his brain. She thinks you’ve been staring at Liz this entire time! Thevoice said. “Wait, you think I’ve been looking at Liz?” he laughed.
“Uh, duh?” she stated. “Everyone thinks that.”
“W-why would you think I was staring at Liz this whole time?” he asked, his heart pounding so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest.
“Because she’s perfect? Because she’s beautiful and smart and you’d be crazy not to?” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But I guess you’ve been staring at Betty this whole time, then, if it wasn’t Liz.”
“What? Betty?” his frown grew, wondering if she was putting herself down on purpose or she really was just that oblivious.
“Yeah, Betty’s super gorgeous, too. And she’s on the morning announcements, so I get why you’d like her,” she mused.
“Wha- no, Y/N, I wasn’t looking at either of them!” he explained with wide eyes.
“You weren’t? So who- oh.” she cut herself off once she realized what he’d been insinuating. “Me?”
“Yes, you. How could I even focus on girls like Liz and Betty when you were there the whole time?”
“I’m sorry, let me get this straight. This entire time, I’ve been agonizing over the fact that I’ve been totally crushing on a guy who I thought was totally in love with Liz when he’d been looking at me with those heart eyes?” she asked incredulously.
“Wait, you’re crushing on me? What is happening! I didn’t even know you knew I existed!” Peter exclaimed.
“How could I not? You’re completely swoon-worthy, Peter!” she smiled a dazzling smile, grabbing one of his clammy hands and squeezing it.
“I mean, I’m no Captain America or anything-” she cut his self-deprecating statement off with a shy kiss to his cheek.
“Captain who? As far as I know, he doesn’t have totally gorgeous curly hair and twinkly brown eyes. And he’s not the smartest kid in our grade who also just happens to have a heart of gold”
Peter blushed a deep red, the skin on his cheek tingling where her lips met it seconds earlier. “Come on, Y/N, you can admit that you think he’s… ‘hotter’ than me. We both know it’s true.”
“I don’t think that at all, Peter!” she defended, giving his hand another squeeze. “If you don’t believe me, ask anybody who’s seen me staring at you at any possible moment.”
Peter’s lips turned up as he smiled shyly at her statement. How had he never noticed? It seemed she was just as enthralled by him as he was with her. Somehow, the girl who seemed just out of his orbit had been watching him with those star-filled eyes the entire time.
Peter and tony "Don't you /dare/ say I don't care about you!"
“Don’t say a word,” Tony said firmly, as they both stood face-to-face in the remains of Loki’s destruction, “not a single fucking one.”
Peter shuffled, opening his mouth a fraction, but Tony jerked forward, hand outstretched and a metal finger pressing against his lips, “not a single word, Peter, what part of that do you not underst- no, no, wait, never mind, don’t-”
“I understand all of it, I just sometimes really need to say things and want to know why exactly they’re happening, like now all I want to know is why I’m supposed to be keeping my mouth shut, although actually I think I’ve worked it out after saying all of this,” Peter babbled, eyes growing steadily wider the further he delved into his own sentence.
He hadn’t…. he hadn’t meant to say any of that. That had been a brain-thought, not a mouth-thought. What the fuck? “Loki- did he put a spell on us?”
Tony rolled his eyes and sighed irritably, “yes- and now if either of us asks the other a question, we will answer 100% truthfully with no filter whatsoever, so until this thing wears off, we keep our sentences completely questionless. Completely. No exceptions. ”
Peter paused for a few seconds, before blurting “I’ve never been put under a spell before. This is kinda awesome. Oh- it doesn’t hurt to remove them, does it? Oh, wait, shit, question-”
“It depends on the spell, and the emotional connection you have with it. For instance, I once got a touch-telepathy spell put on me in the middle of a fight and then had to hold a little boy while he died, which was incredibly painful, but just for different reasons- and Peter Parker I would like you to know that I fucking hate you, what do you not understand about ‘no questions’- oh, Jesus Christ-”
“Like I said, I understand all of it, but I’m not used to thinking too carefully about what I say, I mean, what if- no, shit, question word, okay….uhm,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think how best to ask a question without asking a question, “The inflections of our voice might even affect whether we perceive it to be a question, I assume,” he said slowly.
“Yes,” Tony nodded, and then sighed again, “let it be known that I really fucking hate Loki. I thought we were done with this nonsense. I thought I wasn’t going to have any more issues with doing dumb shit under the influence of magic in front of other people. Jesus Christ. Hope you’re happy, asshole,” he muttered, looking up at the sky before turning on his heel and surveying the damage the Trickster god had left behind.
“I am, actually,” Peter said, and Tony swung back around, eyes wide, but Peter was off again, and there was no stopping him, “I always get a rush after fights that don’t end with any deaths, and generally speaking, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier with life.”
He slapped a hand over his mouth, cheeks reddening. Tony looked at him a little awkwardly, before nodding. “Right. Cool. I’m… I mean, I’m glad you’re happy. Although I was actually trying to talk to Loki.”
Peter nodded. “I was aware. I don’t… I don’t know why I said that.”
Tony’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, so it’s not just for questions that are directed at us, then? Interesting. Annoying, but- interesting.”
Peter shuffled on his feet. “So how long does it take for the spell to wear off? And what should I do when I’m around people? Sorry- I have to ask,” Peter said apologetically, and Tony huffed, but shrugged immediately after.
“Usually about 24 hours for the spell to wear off. You’re lucky it’s a Saturday, or you’d have to go to school with that shit. As it is, you can just stay with me, if you want. Or you can go home and tell Aunt May what’s happened.”
Peter thought about going home- about how many questions May always asked him when he stepped through the door, which he always veiled, just a little. The thought of him being 100% truthful to some of the questions she asked…
He shuddered in horror. “I think I’ll stay with you, if that’s alright.”
“Of course it’s alright, I love having you around,” Tony said immediately, and then clenched his eyes shut, “oh, Jesus Christ, I hate truth spells. They are the fucking worst ones. Just… just shut up and hop on, kid,” he said gruffly, opening his arms.
Peter was about to say something, but he decided against it as he stepped into Tony’s hold. There was currently an 87% chance it would go badly- which was a good 43% higher than his average rates.
The ride back was silent as expected, and when Tony dropped them on the roof, he pulled out of his suit immediately and turned on his heel. “Food in the kitchen, films on JARVIS, knock yourself out. I’m going to be ignoring you in the workshop- you come down there for nothing other than the fact that you are close to imminent death. And I mean imminent. If you are dying, but slowly, it can still wait.”
“Can’t I just come down to the workshop and be quiet?” Peter called out after him.
“Peter, you don’t know what the word ‘quiet’ even means. I’ve asked you not to speak like, 19 different times in the past ten minutes, and you have listened on exactly 0 occasions.”
“I can be quiet!” Peter called, but Tony had hopped down the stairs without looking back, and Peter was left on the roof.
He sighed. This was going to be a fun weekend.
3 films, a seasons of Brooklyn 99 and exactly one empty kitchen later, and Peter was just about ready to start jumping off the walls in boredom.
He wanted to go and see Ned. But that would just be a travesty in every single way, knowing his friend’s track record of secret-keeping mixed in with his never-ending stream of question asking.
God, he was only 14 hours into this shit.
The clean-up crews were working out on the streets- Peter could see them through the huge glass windows, and he sort of wished he could join them, but again, social situations were a bad idea at that point in time.
Goddamn Loki. Peter really didn’t like that guy. He’d already tried to destroy New York once before- and now here he’d come again, years later, doing nothing more than annoy both Tony and Peter for a couple of hours before disappearing, leaving them both with an irritating truth spell as a parting gift.
Groaning, he flicked the TV on to the news and flopped backward into the couch. It was the usual post-battle breakdown, this time with a woman standing in front of a particularly grim-looking pile of rubble, face sad as she stared into the camera.
“And once more, I am stood amongst what remains of a local supermarket, staring around me and wondering- where are the superheroes now?”
Peter rolled his eyes. Right. So it was one of those news channels. He should really turn it over, it wasn’t going to offer anything worthwhile.
At that moment, there was a hissing noise behind him, and Peter’s head turned, watching Tony as he slipped through the doors and headed to the kitchen. He waved absently in Peter’s direction, but didn’t stop to talk as he padded over to the open-plan kitchen behind Peter.
“You’d think, what with Iron Man’s lesser half being the great Tony Stark, that there’d be some funding going into the rebuild of some of these buildings, but so far, as always, the billionaire has yet to declare-”
“What bullshit,” Peter muttered, turning back to the screen and staring in disdain. Everyone knew how much Tony put in- he’d been cleaning up after the Avengers since the Battle of New York. “Who the hell do these people think they are?”
It wasn’t directed at Tony, but he must have heard it, because Peter heard the man clearing his throat to begin talking, “they’re reporters, Peter, and I’m just the target. I’m easy. They need something to base their stories on.”
Peter stopped, face scrunching up incredulously, “but you do so much for them! You fought for them in the Superhero Civil War! Why would they-”
God, he really had to work on keeping his conversations question free.
“Because no-one cares about the guy behind the IronMan faceplate, kiddo,” he said with a shrug, and then scowled, “God, Peter, you really don’t have a filter, do y-”
“I care,” Peter said indignantly, turning around fully now, back to the couch as he stared across the room and over to Tony, who was staring at him with slightly raised eyebrows.
It didn’t last long, though. Tony’s face fell a little, and he shook his head. “Right. Sure. Just… just turn the channel over, Peter-”
“Wait, do you think I’m ly- no, no, wait, sorry, you don’t have to answer-”
But Tony was already going off, mug clutched tightly between tired fingers as he glared mutinously at Peter, “of course you don’t, kid, you like me because I’m cool and I get you fancy gear, but you don’t…not really. I’m not an easy one to care for- you know that. Why do you think everyone’s left? Once the defects in my personality start outweighing the pros of my money or my influence, it stops being so fun.”
There was dead silence, where Tony just looked over at Peter, mouth hanging open in mortification. Peter was staring at him, completely shocked by what he’d just heard.
Did Tony really think….
“Jesus,” the man muttered for the billionth time, swallowing heavily and turning away, thrusting his cup back on the sideboard, “okay, well, good talk, let’s never do that again-”
And then he was speedwalking out, leaving Peter sat, stunned, on the couch, emotions growing in his stomach until he felt like he might explode with them.
What the hell? What the goddamn hell-
He jumped off the couch angrily, storming after Tony, who’d almost made it to the stairs down the corridor by that point. “HEY!” He yelled at the rapidly moving body ahead of him, and Tony jerked a little, stopping in his tracks to look over at Peter in surprise. The tone of voice, the anger in it, probably came as a bit of a shock to him. It sort of came as a surprise to Peter too, to be honest,
“What the hell?” Peter asked incredulously, flinging his hand out, “what the hell did you just say? Did you just try and tell me you don’t think I don’t care?”
“Peter, stop asking-”
“Tony, you’re so stupid! Why do you think I like hanging out at the tower so much- and no, not just the workshop, the kitchen and the living room and the gym, why do you think I do that?”
“Well, I mean, I’d guess it was just so you could-”
“Why do you think I call you when I get into trouble, or always ask you for advice, or how I text you after every scuffle I get into because I know that you worry if I don’t, I know it Tony-”
“I- I, well, I mean I just kind of assumed you were being polite? I-”
Peter choked, lip curling in exasperation. “Tony. You are a walking disaster and you worry stupid amounts about me, and you don’t understand boundaries very well and you can annoy the damn hell out of me- and you’re always, always there for me when I need you. You matter to me, Tony, for God’s sake, you’re the closest thing I’ve got to a dad. Since I met you I feel like I’ve got someone else I can rely on, which is a pretty fucking big deal to me, because all I had before was Aunt May, and I love her to pieces but it was difficult for the both of us- so don’t you dare try and tell me I don’t care, because it just makes you sound like a fucking asshole.”
Peter breathed deep, clenching his jaw and dropping the finger that had risen to point accusingly over at Tony, who was stood rigidly a few feet in front of him. His eyes were blown wide, mouth hanging open a little, and his eyebrows were almost at his hairline, they were raised that high.
No one said anything. Peter sighed, feeling the anger leaving him as suddenly as it had come. He just felt tired. Truth spells weren’t as fun as he’d previously imagined.
Tony was still staring a little incredulously, and then he jerked. A full-body spasm, like he couldn’t quite compute what he’d just heard. Peter just shook his head. “Sorry. Know you didn’t want me to ask you questions. I’ll just… yeah,” he gestured behind him and then turned away, heading back over to the living room with heavy feet.
A few seconds, later, there was the quiet hissing of the door as it shut behind Tony.
“Ask me why I said it,” Tony entered the room with a few hours later, and Peter turned, watching him march up to Peter and fold his arms stubbornly.
Peter stopped, frowning, before he realised what Tony was talking about and tensed up. “Tony, just let it g-”
“Just ask me, Peter, dammit,” Tony said again, loud and a little jerky, like he wasn’t quite sure of how to hold himself, but was giving it his best shot anyway.
Peter bit his lip. He didn’t want to drag this out any further than it needed to be-
“Peter,” Tony said, a little gentler this time, and Peter knew him well enough to know that there was an eye-roll he was trying to hold back on committing to as he looked down toward the couch, “can you let me explain myself? Please?”
Silence, again. Peter folded his arms. Tony mirrored him.
They stared stubbornly at one another.
“Why did you say it?” Peter asked, quieter than he’d intended.
Tony clenched his jaw, and then with a little spasm, he opened his mouth. “I haven’t known a lot of people who’ve been genuine with their affection before. I’m an asshole and I push people away a lot because I don’t want them to hurt me. But…I can’t afford to push you away, or be too much of an asshole to you, because you’re a kid and you need me. So I’m just waiting for you to lose interest, instead. I can’t get rid of that sort of thought-process, but I am trying. Therapy and everything, it’s fucking gross, but… you need someone reliable. I need to be better. For you. Because- I - uh, I mean….”
Tony broke off, running a hand through his hair and huffing in a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. “You matter to me too. A lot. Uh- and I know Aunt May is your proper guardian and everything, but- but… well, I- uhm, I still consider you my own. Kid. Yeah. So…”
Tony shifted backward and forward on his feet, and he was actually blushing in embarrassment, which was a first. Peter just stared, a little shellshocked. He hadn’t been quite sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“Right,” Tony choked out, nodding robotically and then taking a step back, “that was entertaining, shall we both just agree to never talk to one another ever again-”
He turned on his heel, doing his little speedwalk thing toward the elevator as Peter stared at his back.
“Wait,” he blurted from the couch, getting unsteadily to his feet and then vaulting the couch, stumbling toward Tony, who had turned a little to face him.
Running up to him, Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders and hugged. Tight. Tony stumbled a bit, and his hands wavered about in the air for a few seconds before settling lightly on Peter’s shoulder blades. “Right. Cool. Okay, hugs, then. That’s good. Healthy. Or so I’ve heard, anyway-”
“Thank you,” Peter said, breaking through the nervous ramble and squeezing Tony’s shoulders tightly, “that must have been hard.”
Tony shrugged “Eh, truth spell, you know-”
“Tony,” Peter rolled his eyes, letting go and pulling away so Tony could see it, “you really think I wasn’t counting down? The spell ended 15 minutes ago.”
Tony raised his eyebrows, and he pulled a face. “Shut up, it’s called being emotionally healthy.”
“If you think that’s emotionally healthy, you need a new therapist.”
Tony shoved him off with a muttered swear, and Peter laughed. “Are you going to come out of your workshop now?”
“Can I come into your workshop?”
“I’ll go get my shoes,” Peter said with a smile, patting Tony on the shoulder, “can you get the specs up for my suit? I have a few things I think might need tweaking.”
Tony sighed. “You’re a spoilt brat!” he called out as Peter turned back and went for the shoes that were strewn across the living room, but he pulled out his phone and started tapping at it as he turned back in the direction of the workshop, and Peter knew that the rest of the evening would pass as they worked on his suit.
He could think of worse ways to spend his weekend.
Description: After Tom promises Jacob that he’ll tell the reader his feeling at the wedding if
he can get proof that she likes him back, Jacob works tirelessly on trying to get a confession out of the
Jacob’s eyes zeroed in on (Y/N)
who was leaning against the lockers talking to Zendaya animatedly. Today they
were filming on location at a high school in New York City. Right now, however
they were on break between takes.
“Why are you staring at (Y/N)
like you’re going to eat her?” Tom asked his friend, looking up from his script
for a moment. They were sitting underneath a nearby window reviewing lines for
“I’m just… thinking,” he replied
looking away from his female costars.
Tom raised an eyebrow and put his
script down. “About what?”
“How you’re going to tell her that
you like her,” Jacob answered, smiling cheekily.
Rolling his eyes, Tom once again
picked up his script and went back to reading. “You are absolutely
insufferable,” he mumbled with a strong accent.
“If you would just tell me how
you’re gonna do it then I would stop pestering you about it,” Jacob said.
Tom sighed. “Jacob, I already
told you, I haven’t thought about it because you’re not going to come through
with your end of the deal.”