may we see a day your dream comes true

jupiter235  asked:

Psst... may I submit the song "Almost Paradise" for one of your GIF/image things?

Certainly, my dear!  ^-^

It seems like perfect love’s so hard to find
I’d almost given up, you must’ve read my mind

And all these dreams I saved for a rainy day
They’re finally coming true

You know, I’ll share them all with you
‘Cause now we hold the future in our hands

Oh, oh almost paradise we’re knocking on heaven’s door
Almost paradise

How could we ask for more?
I swear that I can see forever in your eyes

Paradise, oh paradise

Jealousy Sucks

Words: 628
Plot: Peter is jealous and feeling sorry for himself. Good thing Scott is around to be an unhelpful asshole.
A/N: A few weeks ago there was consensus that we all needed more jealous Peter in our lives. Well, get ready for your dreams to come true with the most angsty jealous fic that your eyes ever did see. It’s happening; it’s not a dream. It’s real. May do a sequel if people are super duper keen.

Originally posted by ipaper-planes

Peter gritted his teeth, feeling a lump in his throat rising up from his stomach. Sitting on his usual bench looking out over the lake, he watched on. He wasn’t sure whether he was going to vomit, but he certainly felt like it with the way she was looking at him.
Steven Hutchinson. He had that muscular quarterback look about him; all tousled blonde hair and sturdy physique. The kind of guys Peter had despised in high school, and the kind of guys he’d hoped he would be able to escape now that he was living at the mansion.

So far? No luck.
And her? She was perfect. Perfect in any way someone could be perfect. Soft hair and gentle hands and a smile that could light up any room; any day. Peter had fallen for (y/n) right then and there, from the first History class they had taken together. She’d made a joke about Roman plumbing, and he’d felt drawn to her. He had been working up the courage to tell her; and then this burly idiot had decided to ruin everything.
“Jealous?” Scott piped in, taking a seat on the bench next to Peter. Scott wasn’t always subtle; today he was probably having a field day.
“Pfft. What’re you on about, man?” Peter replied, taking a bite out of his grilled cheese sandwich nonchalantly.
Scott nodded towards the two figures across the lake; they were sitting under a tree. Just talking. Nothing unusual. Just…
Ah, crap. He was giving her the eyes. Peter breathed out heavily, swallowing hard.

Peter shrugged. Scott stared blankly at him.
“Seriously? Do you think I’m an idiot?” Scott pressed his fingertips to his forehead “Don’t. Answer that.”
Peter gave a wide grin before setting the rest of his sandwich down on the bench. He’d lost his appetite for once; something he wasn’t used to.
“Look; you can pretend there’s nothing going on - whatever. But I’ve known you for almost a year now, and you’ve spent a good half of that time crushing on (y/n)” Scott clasped his hands together, leaning forwards on the bench “you know she likes you, right?”
Peter whipped his head around, silver hair flopping in his face “what?”
Scott shrugged, nodding “she told Jean about it a while back”.
Peter tipped his head to the side, narrowing his eyes “and you didn’t tell me because…”
“…Because Jean only told me yesterday” Scott added “and because now you’ve admitted you like (y/n), and so…yeah, my job is basically done.”
Peter sighed, scratching the back of his head in thought “dude, that was pretty well played”.
Scott nodded “Just tell her how you feel.”
“I feel like I can’t compete with that mountain of muscle” Peter added, tapping his foot and looking up at them across the lake. (y/n) flipped her hair back over her shoulder, and Peter felt physically ill, as though he wanted to sink into the ground. He was torturing himself here; but this is where he ate lunch most days.
He wasn’t about to change that for Hutchinson, or anyone.
“You’ve got…qualities of some sort” Scott added, laughing to himself.
“Helpful, bro. Helpful as always”.
“Just be yourself. So what if he can juggle balls of fire? You can eat a burrito in less than half a second.”

Peter sighed, putting his head in his hands. His silver jacket felt heavy on his shoulders as he tried not to look at the scene unfolding in front of him. Closing his eyes to the waves of jealousy washing over him, Peter found some resolve: tonight he’d tell her how he felt.
If the mountain-of-muscle, fire-juggling surfer man didn’t beat him to it.
Peter groaned.
Jealousy sucks.