summary ↠ you’re touch-starved, Peter’s your best friend, and there’s a whole lot of unresolved romantic tension between you; friends to lovers.
word count ↠ 3.4k
warnings ↠ uh oh…. there’s only one bed..? additionally maybe two swear words? also copious amounts of fluff lmao
a/n ↠ so apparently I really wanna cuddle Peter Parker. wbk. this is very cute and made me so soft when I wrote it. I hope you enjoy it! please let me know if you have any thoughts :D
“God damn, MJ, I think I’m actually going to die if I don’t get a hug soon.”
You’re rambling, your voice full of heavy frustration. Your hair is unkempt and messy from all the times you’ve run your fingers through it, and you stare at Michelle with a wild look in your eyes that makes her press a hand to her hips and laugh lightly.
“Has anyone told you that you’re really good at being dramatic, Y/N?” She replies casually, causing you to mock an outraged gasp. You sit down at the lunch table together, setting down your trays in front of you.
You manage a glare at your friend. “You’re so mean to me,” you whine. “You don’t understand how desperate I am.”
MJ narrows her eyes. “I don’t think it’s possible to die from lack of human contact,” she chimes.
one of my biggest guilty pleasures is watching “Vocal Coaches React to Brendon Urie” because all they do is complement him,, idk i’m just proud of him thats all
AN: i usually read fic not write it but in honour of @gingerwritess‘ 4k i decided to take up the challenge, its really short, a tad emo, and very mediocre but anyway. I hope it’s not horribly terrible? Also this AU is completely seperate to anything it’s just a stand-alone piece. :)
“are you afraid to die?”
“darling I have faced some of the greatest threats this universe has ever known, and yet you scare me more than anything else I’ve ever known”
“I scare you?’
“more than anything, from the first day I met you I knew that you would be more of a danger to me than anything that i have or would face”
“and what of death?’
“my love, death is but the next great adventure”
Once the grief had subsided, longing and melancholy remembrance took its place. It was a comfortable sort of sadness, the simple quiet of a house once filled with his sarcastic remarks and stupid tricks. There was a time when you would be annoyed that all of your belongings had been charmed to the ceiling or that all of you socks had gone missing under suspicious circumstances. What you would give to hear him laugh one more time as you yelled at him from another room. Now he lives in the little things, things from your time together that remind you of him. Simple things like the smell of old books from the bookstore you both adored, or raindrops on a car window, a stack of pamphlets from countless museum dates, grass underfoot and the seemingly endless supply of ornate daggers scattered throughout the house in random locations that when asked about always evoked the same response; “just trust me”, paired with a devious grin.
There’s an old book sitting on the coffee table, pages worn from years of use, well loved by the both of you. You smile sadly as memories of him reading it to you as you both lie in bed flood back. You pick it up, your fingers tracing the embossed cover, it’s comforting in its familiarity. As you open it, you notice an inscription on the inside of the cover that hasn’t been there before, the four words simply reading,
“It was always you”
Neat and cursive, Loki’s.
You smiled sadly as the tears well up behind your eyes, and in your heart you know that he’s sitting in the halls of Valhalla, laughing at some stupid trick.
He’s not here anymore, but when you close your eyes, for a moment you can hear his laugh echo around the house, and although it is fleeting, the memory feels like home. For now you await your reunion, for someday, somewhere, you will meet again.
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