where are you disappearing to missy

| Caught | Peter Parker

[permanent + peter parker tag] : @momosakaki-san 


Peter Parker was Spiderman.

Or rather, Spiderman was Peter Parker.

Well, same thing. 

You kept your nose buried in your book dutifully, keeping a focused eye on the boy sitting in front of you in class. 

Almost as if he had somehow sensed your stare, he jerked, turning his head slightly to survey the room. You nearly jolted but kept your cover, sweating as you returned your eyes to your book and pretended to read.

It was obvious, really.

Peter was seen as a nerd. And for a long time, you’d thought the same. You might have not been the closest friend to Peter, but he was in a numerous amount of your classes. That fact alone was enough that you could tell his tendencies by now, his tell tale ticks in verbal language, the way he fidgeted on his feet endlessly and bit his lip when he was nervous. Then one day, you stopped and looked. And all your previous misconceptions shattered.

Peter Parker was an anomaly.

Not to mention he was too inconspicuous.

Now there were many people in the school that did not stick out, washed away in the ocean of teenagers that walked the hallways. But Peter was too invisible. It was almost like he purposefully didn’t want the attention.

The moment you intentionally tried to notice him, you wondered why the hell he wasn’t more popular.

Number one: Peter was smart. Not just nerd smart, but almost prodigy smart. Perfect grades, stellar performance on the spot when asked. He went off into ramblings in chemistry class, often underneath his breath, but as you sat right behind him you often heard what others did not. The things you heard made you wonder why in the world he wasn’t two grades up.

Number two: he was kind. Now sure he had snark, but you could count on him to stop and help a crying child on the side of the road, or carry anyone who sprained their ankle in physical education when no one else wanted to.

Number three: talking about P.E, Peter was fit as hell. Maybe it was the baggy clothes that hid that from everyone’s sight, but the boy was built like a god. One Monday you’d been running late for class, and accidentally took a right for the hallway by the locker rooms instead of the hallway down corridor 1A. You groaned and went to turn around when you nearly choked in surprise at something in the corner of your eye.

Or rather, someone.

Peter was drying his hair with a towel, faced away from you, fumbling in his bag for something. Your eyes trailed from the wet hair sticking to his neck to his firm chest, down to pairs of abs decorating his stomach and even further leading down to a V line right above his jeans-  You swallowed, just as your mind went haywire and you made a beeline out of view before he could realize you were there.

Whose great idea was it to have the locker rooms not have any doors??

But you digress.

Point was, there was way more to Peter than you had thought. (Lets not even mention his unnatural strength, you’d once seen him accidentally shatter a test tube with his bare hands in chemistry, whistling as he threw the remains in the trash without anyone seeing.)

But the real reason you accused him of being the masked hero swinging round the rooftops of Queens, was that Peter, putting it simply, was a hell of a bad actor. He didn’t know the word subtle if you stapled it to his forehead.

You’d lost count of the amount of times Peter had raised his hand in class to ‘go to the bathroom’, leg tapping anxiously below his chair and looking like he wanted to jet. Some people had even dubbed him ‘Pissy Parker’ based on that fact that he could never ever stay in class for too long. Twenty minutes later Peter would come back, scolded by the teacher for taking so long but with a satisfied smile on his face, a bruise lining his jaw that had definitely not been there when he left and a bounce in his step.

Oh, and wouldn’t you guess, only seconds after that the class was buzzing with chatter when social media blew up about ‘Spiderman saving the day again at a bank heist!’ just moments before.

You were many things, but you were not an idiot.

Nevertheless, Peter Parker was Spiderman, and that was a fact. You’d had enough time to find more pieces of evidence that you were sure you weren’t just making it up.

Did you tell anyone?

No.

Why would you?

Honestly, it wasn’t your secret to tell. Peter and you didn’t even really know each other. The best interaction you’d had together was maybe that one time you’d tapped him on the shoulder to ask for a pen, or when your teacher had paired you two for a project the month before.

Other than that, you were practically strangers. Strangers that saw each other every day of their lives in the same class, but still strangers.

Such was high-school.

Thoughts of rewards and money came to your mind whenever you contemplated telling anyone, but you quickly shut that idea down every time. Peter was a good guy. He didn’t deserve that.

So you kept your mouth closed, and continued to live life like you didn’t know the identity of a literal superhero in your school.



“Miss?”

You paused your walk in response to the voice that had stopped you on your way home. 

“Yes?” You asked, itching to go. You’d left school late that day because of something your teacher had wanted to go over with you, and as a consequence it was late, the sun already beneath the horizon. Added to the darkness there were few people on the vacant streets and you really just wanted to get home.

The man looked back at you, scruff lining his jaw, hair in shambles and wearing raggedy clothes. 

Homeless, you thought. 

“Would you spare a penny?” 

You had to go home…

His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t drunk anything in days.

The guilt in your chest only grew till you groaned and reached into your jeans pocket for your wallet, offering him a tiny smile. “Sure.”

You were zipping it open when movement stirred in the corner of your eye. You suddenly realized you’d stopped to speak to the homeless man in front of an alley. Hungry eyes from within stared at the wallet in your hands, and you froze.

“Miss?”

“A-Ah, yes,” you put your wallet back, trying to act natural as you eyed the homeless man who probably wasn’t homeless at all. What homeless guy’s teeth were that white? “Actually I think I have to go. I’ll stop by tomorrow though.”

You stepped back but hit into a body. Pure panic rushed over you when a nasty chuckle blew breath over your ear and arms trapped your own to your sides.

“Where are ya’ going missie?”

You opened your mouth to scream but a grubby palm covered your lips. And just like that you were pulled into the alley, disappearing without a soul to see.

“Smart one isn’t she?” The homeless guy from before drawled, and his back was no longer hunched and that hopeless gleam was not in his eyes, but instead his spine was straight and a predatory glint encompassed his entire face. How many people had been tricked by his ruse?

How could you be so stupid??

You thrashed and struggled but whoever had you captive was bigger and stronger, and you could feel your eyes burn with tears.

“Aw, she’s crying,” The guy behind you cooed, hand slipping down your body to suddenly dive into your pocket. “Don’t worry pretty miss, we jus’ want your money.”

“And maybe a treat,” The homeless one grinned, raking his gaze over your form and licking his lips.

Something within you broke.

You lashed out with a strength you didn’t know you had, ramming an elbow into your captor’s stomach hard. He let go of your mouth in surprise, expletives pouring off his tongue. The minute he did you screamed the loudest you ever had, throat rubbed raw as your voice rang out hoarsely.

“Shut her up!” The homeless guy hissed, stepping forward to take care of you manually when another voice interrupted everything.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

The three of you looked at the end of the alley, where a certain hero stood casually, like he was watching a baseball match.

“Oh its the spider brat,” the guy behind you grunted, and the homeless guy raised an eyebrow.

“What are you looking at! Go ahead and run away you bug frea-”

The words hadn’t finished leaving his mouth when Spiderman shot an arm out, webs entangling the man, launching of his feet to kick him to the floor. You were left free when the other guy went to attack, his arm going to a bulge in his jacket that looked suspiciously like a gun.

Your heart leapt in worry and desperation. No matter how fast Spiderman was he couldn’t dodge a bullet.

Before you could even warn him Spiderman was there, impossibly, weaving through the attacker’s punches like he was dancing. The attacker was bigger and bolder in body mass, but as you watched Spiderman basically beat him into the ground and use his speed and mass against him, you wondered why you had even been worried.

Ten seconds later there were two unconscious bandits on the floor at your feet, and you were left looking at Spiderman with glazed eyes, shivering and trembling from the cold and at what had just transpired.

Spiderman stared back (or you imagined he did, his mask was not transparent). He cocked his head, as if he were studying you before holding out a hand.

You twitched, stepping back instinctively.

“Phone,” He said, and his voice was muffled by the mask, but you heard it anyway. It sounded deep, too deep, almost as if he were putting on an accent.

You could only stare wide eyed at him. Phone?

Phone!

You scrambled for your phone, pulling it out and placing it in his patient palm.

He dialed a number and put it to his ear when the rings stopped. 

“Yes, 911?” And again he had another accent, panicked this time and high as if a scared bystander. How many voices could he impersonate? Maybe he was better an actor than you had thought. “There are two men knocked out at the alley beside the restaurant Benny’s on fifth street! They look like the criminals that were on the news the other day. Please come!”

He hung up, tossing you your phone without hesitation and you fumbled to catch it.

Another awkward silence, and you could only imagine what you looked like: clothes a mess, a shallow wound bleeding on your face from where one of the men had scratched you in the struggle, gawking at the person who’d just saved you.

He cleared his throat.

“Are you coming?” He gestured to himself. “We need to leave before the fuzz get here.”

You didn’t give yourself ample time to mull over the fact that Spiderman had just called the police the fuzz and instead eyed his offered hand cautiously. Of course you knew logically he would never hurt you but you had already been assaulted once that night, and were understandably jittery.

His voice lowered, more gentle at your obvious fright. “I won’t hurt you.”

You thought that maybe he had forgotten his need for a fake accent because that sounded too familiar to the voice of a certain brunette you sat behind in school, but you ignored it.

You nodded and shuffled to him, feeling the warmth of his presence as his hand wrapped around yours. He stared at you for a second longer before he was pulling you towards him with a tug, and you somehow imagined a grin forming on his face. 

“Hang on.”

Flying with Spiderman put any rollercoaster out there to shame.

Ok, it technically wasn’t flying, but it sure felt like it as you clung shamelessly to him, repressing screams as he swung over the city. Wind ran through your hair and had it messily streaking across your eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut, stomach falling to the ground-

And it was over. Just like that.

You didn’t know how long it had really lasted, but it felt like only a couple seconds when Spiderman landed you on your balcony. You clung to him still, mind spinning. The adrenaline should have had you as awake as a bunny on five shots of pepsi and mentos but instead you found that you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Here we are-” Spiderman was interrupted by your body slumping into his side. He nearly fell forward but adjusted to handle your dead weight. “H-Hey! You alright?”

“Peachy,” you mumbled but your legs already gave out. He sighed, seemingly contemplating something before going towards your glass doors that you left unlocked, sliding them open and stepping into your room.

“This is on so many levels creepy,” You thought you heard him say to himself but you were dipping in and out of consciousness as he laid you down gently on your bed.

You registered sheets tucking themselves under your chin.

“Night, Y/N,” You caught whispered over the rush in your ears lulling you to sleep.

“Thank you, Peter,” you muttered back, already asleep before you could feel the hand on your arm tighten in surprise.



Something was wrong.

It was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t find it.

You mused in wonder as you brushed your teeth, gazing at your reflection. What was this feeling?

You gurgled and spit, rubbing foam that had escaped the water at the corner of your mouth.

You went over the events of last night as you said good morning to your parents, popping a piece of toast in your mouth. Stayed at school late. Robbers. Spiderman.

It was easy enough to remember. After all, you had a cut on your face to prove it hadn’t been a dream.

But that still wasn’t what was eluding you, you thought in frustration as you entered the school gates, stepping off the bus. Sure it had been terrifying, but the queasy feeling of unnerve in your abdomen was different somehow. What had happened? Were you forgetting something?

You stopped stressing over it as you settled in your first class. No point if you couldn’t remember. If it was important you surely would later.

It was only when you were walking into the room of your second period that you were hit with the reason of the unease. You waved bye to a friend in the hall, stepping into the class and shifting your head, Peter Parker lifting his own head from his desk to meet your eyes-

The hazy memories came back looking into those brown eyes.

You’d landed on your balcony after he saved you…he tucked you in because you suddenly couldn’t function…he had said your name and that maybe was the reason why you felt to respond using his as well-

“Thank you, Peter.”

Oh god you’d said his name.

And there was no excuse you had for why you could possibly know that.

You broke eye contact with him, walking with hurry, trying to ignore his eyes burning into the back of your head. You stopped by one of your closer friends and asked to trade seats with him with what you hoped wasn’t a stutter. He agreed with questioning in his eyes but agreed anyway, and you sighed in relief that you didn’t have to sit behind Peter. 

When the bell rang in an hour you shot out of your seat and out of the class before Peter could get the chance to even bat an eyelash your way. You were not having that conversation.

You proceeded to ignore him the whole day at every point, blatantly not sitting where you normally would for lunch, running from classes before he could catch you. Finally the last class for the day ended with a ring of the bell and you speed walked to the exit of the school after shrugging on your bag. You could see the light at the end of the tunnel, freedom in sight-

“Y/N.”

You froze as a hand landed on your shoulder. 

“A-Ah. Yes?”

“Do you mind me asking you something?” 

Yes, you minded very very much-

Not at all.”

From an outsiders view the conversation was harmless, normal as Peter shifted, kind as he usually was, simply asking a friend to stop. But you knew better. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. The hand on your shoulder exhibited enough force that he overpowered you five times to one.

Peter smiled innocently. “Great.”

Two seconds later you were shuffled into an empty classroom. Peter shut the door behind him, leaning against it with crossed arms and expectant eyes.

“Uh-” You started. “What’s this about?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. He said nothing but his stare intensified, as if saying ‘don’t play with me’.

You broke, feeling very intimidated. “Look, yes I know who you are. But I promise, I didn’t tell anyone-”

“How can I trust you?”

You gaped like a fish. “What?” 

“You heard me,” He tilted his head, and you watched his jaw tighten, eyes storming.

You wanted to cry.

“I-I don’t- I’m sorry I-”

A chuckle.

You stopped, utterly confused as you watched Peter dissolve into laughter. At your befuddled expression he laughed louder, covering his mouth and outright giggling. 

“What.” You deadpanned at this point.

He opened one eye, tearing up at his guffawing. He wiped it, a blush staining his flushed face. 

“I-I’m not going to kill you, Y/N,” He said, still trying to control himself. Whatever intimidation you had been getting was erased completely, and he was genuinely grinning at you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to know how you knew it was me. But that was great.”

You had seen him trembling before, yes, but you thought that was from anger not from restraining laughter. You registered that he had tricked you finally after your brain caught up.

You were going to kill him.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“W-Woah!” He backed off, and you reveled in his frightened face, though you doubted you could even bruise him. “I’m sorry but the chance was right there and you were running away from me all day like you thought I was going to bury you in my backyard.”

At this your own anger dissipated and you couldn’t help the snort that left you at the image. You blanched, appalled at what you’d just done but if anything Peter looked more amused.

“See? It was funny.”

You let it go, rolling your eyes. “Alright fine, fine.”

“But really,” He appraised you curiously. “Did someone tell you? How did you know?”

“I figured it out myself,” You replied, and his eyebrows raised in surprise as if that was the last thing he was expecting.

“What? H-How?”

“What?” You smirked. “Sad your full proof secret identity was figured out? You’re not that subtle Pete.”

His mouth flapped, as if you had just insulted his ego, ears staining red at the tips. You snorted again and he grumbled, but his lips lifted.

“Is that it?” You asked when he didn’t say anything else, merely looking at you with soft eyes, causing something stirring in you that made your insides heat. “You’re not going to bribe or blackmail me to keep your secret?”

“Bribe?” He asked, incredulous but still amused. He laughed. “What do you think I am?”

You shrugged sheepishly. 

Peter shook his head. “No, if you haven’t said anything this far, I don’t think you will moving forward.” He smiled and it was like he was the sun, small dimples forming at the sides of his mouth as his eyes crinkled. “I trust you to keep my secret.”

Your heart jumped again and this time you couldn’t ignore it as warmth flooded you at his smile.

“I see, thank you.” You tried to control your breathing as your heart-rate picked up, holding onto your bag straps for comfort. “I guess I’ll leave then.”

“Wait,” He stopped you, still blocking the door. You gave him an inquisitive gaze and he paused, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“A-Actually there is something I’d like you to do,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck apprehensively. “You k-know, as assurance that you won’t give it up.”

“What?” You asked hesitantly. What could he want for him to be reacting like that.

At your words he swallowed visibly then looked at you with pink cheeks, smiling crookedly. “Kiss me?”

Your universe stopped.

When you didn’t reply he began rambling again, the confidence knocked right out of him.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve always kind of liked you and-” You were already walking towards him while he went off on a tangent, embarrassed. 

“Y-you kind of sit behind me all the time so I can’t really talk to y-you but I think you’re beautiful and since, well you know my secret now I was just wondering and I-I know it’s stupid-”

“Peter,” you said, and you had crossed the distance to stand right in front of him. His cheeks glowed brighter.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

You pressed your lips to his softly, inexperienced. He gasped against your mouth, unresponsive in shock, before he was suddenly all motion, gripping you and kissing you back. The world spun and his back was no longer against the door but yours was, and you couldn’t care less, raising your hands to play with the curls at the base of his neck that had always fascinated you. 

Peter made a noise against you as you tugged at the strands and you found yourself unable to think when his shy, sweet kisses turned more desperate, roughly searing his lips to yours, drawing shivers and goosebumps. 

A rattle of the doorknob knocked the both of you out of the spell and you gasped raggedly as the door you were leaning against rattled again.

“Locked…? Hey, is someone in there?” The janitor’s voice called. 

You quieted your pants, staring into Peter’s eyes, elation running through you as he put a finger to his lips, smiling back. After another couple knocks the janitor grumbled, and you heard the jingle of keys as he backed off from the door to find the right one.

“What are we gonna do?” You whispered, but the grin curving your lips didn’t match the worry in your tone. Peter motioned for you to follow as he went to the window. It was only when he opened it and put a leg on the sill that you stammered. “Hey wait, are you serious? This is the third floor!”

“And I’m Spiderman,” Peter whispered back, winking at you as he held out a hand for you to take as the doorknob rattled once more. 

“Now trust me.”

[MasterList]

Staying, For Now

Pairing: Twelve x Missy
Genre: Fluff
Rating: G
Words: 2551
Summary:  The Doctor brings Missy a gift in the vault. Missy doesn’t want him to leave, and convinces him to stay and watch a movie with her.
A/N:  Inspired by this post, and a post pitching the idea of the Doctor and Missy watching Disney movies together (please link me to it if you know the one!). Guys, I’m a sucker for soft!Twissy. I can’t help it.

“Hello!” the Doctor calls into the vault. The room is chilly, and his voice echoes, bouncing from wall to wall. “Missy, are you here?” He glances around uneasily.

Before the Doctor can get properly worried, Missy’s head pops up from behind the sofa. “Well of course I’m here, dear,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “It’s not as if I’ve got anywhere else to be.”

“What are you doing back there?” the Doctor asks, trying to peer around at her from the doorway. He tries not to make a habit of going too far into the vault. The farther in he goes, the more likely it is that Missy will get him into some kind of trouble. But this time, his curiosity gets the better of him. He sets down the plastic bags he’s been carrying, and walks over to the couch, where Missy has again disappeared from view.

When he rounds the couch, he finds Missy sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by an array of thin plastic boxes on all sides. “DVDs?” says the Doctor, surprised. He isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

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Under a wide sky

This is the first chapter of an AU set in 1950s Australia. It’s an idea that’s been brewing in my mind for a while and @leiascully‘s XFWriting Challenge prompt International has forced my hand. 


Chapter One

The night sky was a wonder. There were so many stars in patterns he didn’t recognise. If he blinked more and more appeared until all he saw were black spots in the silver sky instead of the other way round. Australia was a wide open dream, a new future perhaps. Everything seemed to be in front of him. Everything was big. Everything was new and untested. Fox Mulder felt right at home.

           He lay back on the stubby grass, sparse and sharp under his singlet. The ground was beyond hard. He’d been at the sheep station for only a couple of days, yet to meet the owner, but he’d surveyed some of the land in his short time and seen the deep fissures that spread across the paddocks, red earth cleaved apart by a brutal sun. In the night time, the moister air closed some of the cracks and the air filled with the smell of warm earth. He knew he should be careful of snakes at this time of night, but the cabin he bunked in was oppressive both in its heat and its company that he often wandered along the creek bank (dried out for the summer) looking for a moment to clear his head and breathe before turning in for the night. Snakes be damned, he thought as he wriggled his back, relieving a sweat-induced itch.

He pressed his eyes shut for a moment, thought of his sister, Samantha. How she would have loved this place. Its beauty and its danger. He smiled at the thought of her face. “If you’re going to die from snakebite in Australia it might as well be while you’re admiring the most beautiful sight in the world.”
           “Hello?”

Mulder shot up, aware of the scrape and rustle of his body against the dry land.

“Who’s there?” It was a woman’s voice, breathy and a little afraid, perhaps.

He peered into the blackness, still unable to anchor his gaze on anything other than the imprint of the night sky behind his eyes. He blinked and heard it. The unmistakeable sound of a shotgun being loaded and engaged.

“I’m armed.”

“If I raise my arms, how will you know?” He tried for humour, his default setting, but he knew it was lame as soon as the words left his mouth.

“I’ll smell you,” came the quick response. Perhaps she wasn’t afraid anymore. A gun would do that.

“I’ve got both hands above my head. No gun. I’m not doing anything. I just came for a walk by the creek, to admire the stars. If you step closer you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“You talk too much, Mr Bushranger.”

“I’m just talking so you can hear where I am. And I am not a bushranger. I’m a worker on the station.”

There was a moment of silence, just long enough for Mulder to lower his arm and retrieve his torch from the back pocket of his shorts.

“What are you doing?” the voice demanded. “You said you didn’t have a gun.” Her voice was a notch higher than before.

Mulder fought back the urge to chuckle. “I’m not going to shoot you with a Coleman torch. I promise.” He flicked it on, moved a step closer and there she was, all five-foot-two of her, red hair falling around her face, brows low in concentration and a double-barrel shotgun held steadfast in her arms. If he hadn’t been a trained observer he would have missed the slight tremble of her fingers against the trigger.

“Who are you, Mr Bushranger? What are you doing out here in the middle of night? Where’s your truck?” She shoved the gun closer to him, so that it was almost touching his chest. He kept the beam of light from his torch steady on her face, and he could see the freckles on her skin and the beauty mark above her lip.

“Who are you, Miss Shotgun? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? Where’s your truck?”

She held his gaze, her cool blue eyes fixing him so that he felt more pinned by them than the gun. This woman was a firecracker. And he suddenly felt even more at home in this strange wide land.

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I Love Everything About You - Austin Carlile, OM&M, BMTH.

Fiddling with my hair, I stare at myself in the mirror, looking over my outfit. I’m dressed up for my friend, Alan Ashby’s, party. I feel over my curves that the dress emphasises. I chew my lip, does it look good enough?

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Remember Me

Hey, could you write something where reader and Gabe are friends and she (doesn’t have to be female) is in love with him and then loses all memories of him and only him because of some hunt and when he finds out he follows her around cause then maybe she’ll remember and she starts getting flashbacks and they somehow get together and it’s all fluffy?

Warnings: violence, injuries of the head kind, fluffy

Word Count: 2300

Author: Gwen

Okay, I’m sorry…this one is kinda bad…or at least not as good as others…

 

“Dean, watch out!” You shouted in the tattered warehouse just on the outskirts of the city where a pair of vetala had taken up residence. They had been feeding on victims for weeks now and with Gabriel’s help you tracked them down.

At the moment one of them was busy squaring off against Dean as Sam was knocked out in the corner. Dean had yelled at Gabriel to heal his brother, which left you with the other vetala.

She had her fangs out with a predatory stance as you circled each other. You gripped your silver knife tightly as you charged towards her, hoping to send her off balance so you could plunge the knife into her heart.

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