summary: the reader is asked to start a school newspaper with a certain budding photographer... only the one story on the reader’s mind is Spiderman’s... this is a little bit introductory so please bear with me I swear it gets better over the next couple of parts!!
warnings: nada
She stood at the door. It looked different this time, different to all those other times when they had fallen through the doorway, barely making it into the hall before collapsing onto the floor laughing; different to how it looked when she glanced back after leaving, her skin still electrified with him. Him. Him, always him. She didn't know when or how or why but at some point on their reckless adventures she realised that she had fallen recklessly in love with him. And she was going to tell him. She was. She was. She held her hand up to the door, knuckle hovering in front of the wood. What if someone else answered? What if he answered? What if she really had to tell him this time, not just another rehearsal in her bathroom mirror, the real thing? She took a deep breath. Three knocks for her three-word confession, how sickeningly poetic. Her chest imploded as she heard a noise from inside the house, him tripping down the stairs? His dog falling off the sofa like he always does when there's a knock at the door? No- she couldn't do this- she would rather suffocate in this silence than have to tell him- but there he was, opening the door, his eyes already smiling her name. She had to. She had to or the horrible longing, yearning, craving, would continue to eat her alive until she was nothing more than an empty shell. She had to. Her lips parted and wavered and closed until she opened them again, determined to utter those three hateful words that had destroyed her. She looked him in the eye with a shaking breath,-
"Y/N?" You looked up from your laptop to see your English teacher standing over you. You cursed to yourself as wherever that sentence was going was long gone. You tried a civil smile; it came out sour.
If your teacher noticed, they didn't acknowledge it.
"I was wondering if you could not only help me but the school as a whole," they perched on the bench next to you, "and maybe even yourself. I'm sure you're aware our school community is operated by the student body and yet I have noticed one integral missing part to our society: a school newspaper!" Your teacher made a gesture as if this was the greatest news you were ever going to hear in your life and even when your enthusiasm inevitably failed to match their's, they continued undeterred. "You're probably wondering what any of this has to do with you. The fact is, we want our most talented writer on the job and it would seem a tragedy if we ignored you. At the moment it would just be you and the photographer working together to publish a weekly newspaper, however there's no reason that with some work you couldn’t have a whole team of writers behind you in the future." They gave you one, last trying smile to win you over, "What do you say?"
"I have to decline." you said, turning back to your laptop.
"What? Why? I thought you wanted to be a writer?" Your teacher was somehow still surprised despite your obvious disinterest the whole time they were talking.
"I want to be an author, not a journalist. I write stories, not articles."
"But journalists do write stories! Only they're happening in real life rather than in your head. Even if not for the writing, do it for your CV. You'll have a specific extra curricular to what you want to do and I'll give you extra credit." Your teacher raised their eyebrows, tentatively watching you for some sort of response to their offer.
You had to admit, Chief Writer and Editor of the school newspaper would look pretty cool.
You sighed and closed your laptop. "So, who's my co-worker?"
-
Weaving through the corridors, you made your way to the art room. You had never liked school: it killed artists. You had to stifle a laugh at the irony, there was always a home in hell.
As much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help but be pulled down by a wave of nostalgia. The walls had always been a prison but now? Now you could look at the trophies and the esteemed alumni that littered the photo frames and cabinets and believe that maybe, just maybe you could be up there too one day.
You had to shake your head. It was just a stupid school newspaper.
With your laptop folded under your arm, you pushed the art room door open with your hip and was hit by that familiar smell of whatever materials they had been using that day. It smelt like unreined imagination, forever refreshing after being surrounded by everyone's overworked personalities as if they had walked straight out of some horrendous book.
You turned to find two pairs of eyes glued to you and very quickly realised that you had barged in and interrupted their conversation.
"Oh! I'll, uhm, just be-" you jutted your thumb in the direction of the door so you didn't have to finish your sentence.
"Wait!" Your art teacher exclaimed, "That was perfect timing actually, Y/N, I had just finished explaining to Peter what our plan is. I'm sure you know Peter?" The boy's face went straight pass red and into magenta at the mention of his name.
Your stomach dropped; you couldn't believe your luck. Of course you knew Peter- everyone did after the whole Peter-knows-Spiderman incident... and suddenly you had an interesting story.
You extended your hand to him, "My name's Y/N. I guess you're my new coworker?"
"So it seems." He smiled, shaking you on it.
"I was just telling Peter about the big game on Friday, perhaps your first project together?" You tried a smile. You always avoided games but you sensed you wouldn’t be able to escape this one.
"Sure, that sounds great!" You glanced at your watch and cursed, "I better get going now or I'll be dead if I'm late home again. Thanks again for organising this and thinking of me." You added before turning to the door.
"I'm going that way." You turned and looked at Peter; you weren't sure who was more surprised by his outburst. "I mean, we can talk about the newspaper and... stuff?"
You smiled at him and held open the door.
-
It didn't take you long to realise that Peter wasn't the sort to lie. Besides, it made sense that he would have at least seen Spiderman at that Stark internship.
Maybe this was actually going to work.
"Well, this is my stop." You grinned, looking between Peter and your house. You liked him, which was saying a lot. You didn't have the patience for most of the kids at school... but Peter? Peter- Peter was different. You mentally rolled your eyes at yourself for being so cliché.
He was though, you couldn't deny that much, he was smart and kind and funny- you were in stitches the whole way home- and your heart couldn't help but do the thing whenever he looked at you and laughed and the skin around his eyes crinkled.
"I almost forgot!" You said, jolting yourself out of your thoughts, "We should probably meet before the game, how about tomorrow after school at the coffee shop around the corner?" It was your turn to go red,"I mean, to talk about the newspaper and... stuff?"
Peter laughed. You already loved his laugh.
"Sure. I have a feeling this is the start of quite a partnership."
From your top step you mimed tipping your hat to him, "Well, goodnight partner."
"And goodnight to you too, partner." Peter said with a flourished bow.
You both laughed, even if yours was tinged with melancholy because you knew you were going to have to turn away.
Request: How about reader singing to Steve? She sings Elvis Presley's - the Wonder of You at Tony's 50's themed party? She's dressed beautifully and no one knows that she's gonna sing live with a band behind her. Steve blushes but loves it? :D please and ty!!
What was the point to this party anyways? Probably another excuse for Tony to drink and forgot his troubles Steve theorized. The theme for this weeks party was the 50's, one of the time periods Steve had missed. He was dressed in a suit, as was every other male here and the girls all wore 50's themed everything, clothes, makeup, even their hair was reminiscent of the 50's.
Steve should have been enjoying himself but instead here he was, sitting alone at a table and drinking because all the other avengers were off doing their own thing. Really the only person he ever talked to at these things was (Y/N) but they were up a few floors, laying in Steve's bed, sick as a dog. Really, he should have been up there with them, holding them and bringing them medicine, running a rag along their sweaty forehead, holding their hair back as they puked-
A soft voice suddenly interrupts Steve's train of thought. It was soft and sweet and a voice he would know anywhere. Steve's head perks up as he looks at the small Stage Tony had set up, a live band and everything but in the midst of all the instruments there was someone who seemed to stand out; his (Y/N). They looked radiant up their and most definitely not sick (Steve was gonna kick their ass for that later), their own outfit was the crowning jewel of the 50's and god- just looking at then made Steve feel reminiscent of a time he didn't even know.
With a slight smirk Steve leans forward onto his elbows, his interest piqued as (Y/N) gripped a microphone within their hands gently. Everyone seemed to fall silent as (Y/N) smiled out at the crowd, waving to them shyly right afterwards.
"Hiya, I'm (Y/N)," Most everyone murmured some form of hello as they stared on, nearly intranced by (Y/N). "I'm gonna sing a little song for you guys, that sound good?" The murmuring starting back up before dying off once again as (Y/N) began to speak. "But, before I begin I'd just like to call out to a very special man," (Y/N) turned their head just enough to give Steve a Wink. "By the name of Steve Rogers," (Y/N) smiles as everyone clapped for Steve whereas Steve was a blushing mess, his entire face beet red. "Here's to you baby,"
Steve could tell from his seat that (Y/N) was nervous, their hand was shaking at their side lightly and they seemed to constantly trying to breathe deeply. Even with their nerves they had gotten up there to sing a song for him and that meant more to him than words could describe. While still blushing but now smiling widely Steve looked at (Y/N) with such a loving gaze that it was impossible for (Y/N) not to smile back at him.
(Y/N) turned and smiled at the band and that's when the soft music fills the air.
"When no-one else can understand me, When everything I do is wrong; You give me hope and consolation, You give me strength to carry on," Steve blushed a little more, the tips of his ears now burning. It wasn't that he was embarrassed, he wasn't even in the spotlight but for some reason, having (Y/N)'s gaze upon him like that while they sang such a beautiful song just did something to him. "And you're always there to lend a hand In everything I do. That's the wonder, The wonder of you,"
Steve could tell (Y/N) was freaking out, even with their grip on the microphone their hands were still shaking horribly and he could see that their legs were trembling too and yet their eyes remained steadfast upon Steve, not for one second did they dull or even show a hint of their nerves, all those eyes held was a deep love for Steve.
"You're doing so good," He mouthed to them, smiling sweetly afterwards. The message was received when (Y/N) smiled shyly and kept going, making Steve's heart flutter within his chest.
"And when you smile the world is brighter. You touch my hand and I'm a king, Your kiss to me is worth a fortune, Your love for me is everything,"
At this point (Y/N)'s voice was quivering from fear but they weren't going to give up now, not when they had dedicated countless hours to performing for Steve so with a shaky inhale they continue, hoping no one could see just how nervous they were.
"I'll guess I'll never know the reason why You love me like you do. That's the wonder, The wonder of you,"
As soon as everyone claps Steve jumps from his spot and rushes to the stage, engulfing (Y/N) in one of the tightest hugs he'd ever given. (Y/N) sighs shakily as they hug back, burying their face in the crook of Steve's neck.
Everyone keeps applauding, some even hollering at the two as they embrace but Steve could barely hear them over the beating of his heart, and most likely (Y/N)'s too. With a soft sigh Steve turns his head, just enough to press his lips to (Y/N)'s ear and whisper a few words.
