#sorry for being annoying i like attention ^-^

[kissbabie]

you're rin's favorite bunny ♡

having rin see you like this was so embarrassing. your back was arched; with your bunny ears resting crooked on your head — the headband barely hanging on through your sweaty, messy hair, and your white lacey thigh highs were already rolled halfway down. your pretty fluffy cuffs trapped your wrists together behind you as the soft tail at the base of your spine brushed against rin's stomach every time he thrust in. you were whimpering with your face pressed to the pillow, being way too overwhelmed to speak coherently.

his grip tightened under your waist, supporting you easily with one hand, while the other slipped upward towards your neck, hooking one finger right under your collar as the bell on your throat jingled. "feels good?", he asked, his hips rocking slow and pushing deep enough to make your thighs quiver. "y-yeah," you moaned back, voice high pitched and whiny, "feels so good, rinnie, feels—aah—!"

he leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath next to our ear, his chest resting against your back. "you wanted this, right? then take it," he whispered, rolling his hips against you harder. the soft plap! plap! plap! of his balls slapping against your ass repeatedly made your whole body feel hotter, your pussy clenching around his cock so tightly as you you squealed instinctively, even bunnyish, "mmn—m'gonna, rin—!"

he let go of his hold on your collar and reached down, circling your clit while still thrusting in from behind. he mumbled, his voice lower, “you’re leaking all over me.”

“i c-can’t help it, feels so full.” you whined. he tugged your collar, not harshly, just enough to remind you, “that’s what good bunnies get.”

"uh huh, uh huh, 'm your dumb bunny," you sobbed, drooling out of your mouth and staining the pillow. with every thrust, the bell on your collar jingled excessively, something that was starting to tick off rin. so, he easily used one hand to rip it off you. "was getting—fucking annoying, shit, sorry," he grunted.

with that out of the way, rin grabbed your hips and slammed into you. you choked pathetically on a moan, as the headband slipped off your head, your body bouncing helplessly with every relentless thrust. you sobbed from how stretched out your pussy felt, your sore arms that were still pinned behind your back, and from his hands forcing your thighs apart.

everything was fuzzy. all you could do was wail into the pillow like a cockdrunk mess, which, to be fair, you were. so he leaned down and grabbed your hair gently, and turned your face toward him. your mouth was open, you were panting, and your chest was heaving.

“look how pretty you are,” rin groaned, sloppily kissing you as you were barely able to reciprocate. when he pulled back, he was staring at you with that blank expression, “that’s a good bunny.”

you came so hard you squeaked. rin was looking at your face the entire time, watching how your mouth parted and how your eyes closed as you let out choked whines. he especially paid attention to how your nose was twitching. “just like a bunny,” he thought to himself.

for this req

© 𝒌issbabie | don't copy, steal, or translate any of my work

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: when his cat counterpart is hogging your attention.

COMMENTS: are they jealous of the kitty? are they chill? whatever they are, it's ridiculous (affectionate)

TAGLIST: @as1iiiwhaa @astralsocfactory

Jin will not hesitate to push the cat to the side and take his rightful spot on your lap. His cat is just as sassy as him though, and will more likely than not just stretch all over him . Jin may get annoyed at your soft coos, but if you direct some attention to him he might be satisfied. In a way, you’re still paying attention to him anyway...

Tohma often finds himself in a stare down with the cat version of himself. It’s not like he’s against sharing, so long as it’s not with another man, but there’s still some tension in the room. Whether you notice it or not, it would be in your best interest to give your partner a kiss so the cat in your lap doesn’t get too bold and start hogging all your attention.

Luca rather likes his cat counterpart, actually. He entrusts the cat to protect you if he isn’t there to save you, which can lead to some rather hairy situations. Luca Cat will still jump to conclusions! (And jump on people’s faces to scratch them up.) Maybe you should get him a leash...

Kaito is pouting. He’d feel bad if he shooed the cat away, since it’s technically him and he knows all too well what being shoved aside is like. But he wants your attention too, is that so bad? You should notice how quiet he’s being and take that as a sign to rub his head, too. He may be a human but he’s still weak to head pats!

Alan eyes the cat mournfully, but won’t move it. Honestly it’s best if you just snuggle with both of them at once, because Alan isn’t going to disturb you and neither is Alan Cat. Besides, double the Alan, double the extreme body warmth—maybe you should do this in front of a fan!

Sho Cat knows he needs to stay out of the kitchen, but he wants to be in it anyway. It’s a bit sad that you can’t take pity on the poor cat, so you compromise by giving him a bunch of attention outside. Sho gets a bit grumpy about it, but he knows you’ll make it up to him (one way or another.)

Leo and his cat will have a face off for your attention on a regular basis. It’s up to you to compromise between the two, because they’re too stubborn to do it on their own. Also, cuddling them both at the same time won’t work because they’re gonna get all snippy with each other...I am so sorry for your predicament.

Haru will try his best to bond with the cat, but he always makes his way back to you. Haru is devastated that his cat likes you more, but ultimately he can’t blame the little guy. If he could, he’d nap on your lap forever too! Ultimately, the two get along pretty well, so there’s no need for either of them to get jealous over it.

Towa and Towa Cat can go one of two ways. Either they have a stand off for your attention with thunder and lightning booming outside, or they’re both snuggling you. If it’s the second one, you’re being crushed with their whole body weights and likely overheating from how warm they both are! Good luck either way (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Ren and Ren Cat are so chill. Like genuinely, just put a screen in front of either of them so they’ll be so engrossed. Ren Cat doesn’t see a problem with sitting himself right on your lap, but Ren’s shifty eyes tell you he does. That’s his spot, after all. You know Ren won’t say anything though, so it's up to you to compromise!

Taiga is more likely than not just going to move Taiga Cat. It doesn’t matter how long he’s been sleeping on your lap, sharing is caring and it’s Taiga’s turn now! Don’t bet on them having a peaceful resolution to this unless both Taiga’s are in a good mood and willing to share. Hell, maybe Taiga Cat will cuddle with Taiga himself!

Romeo and Romeo Cat are both divas who do not want to compete for your attention. Get used to multitasking! One hand will be stroking Romeo Cat’s beautiful mane, while the other holds your boyfriend’s hand as he barks orders to the poor General Students. They can make it work, but Romeo can’t wait to have you to himself again.

Ritsu is rather impressed with Ritsu Cat’s ability to steal your attention away from him during work hours. He politely asks the cat to focus, which snaps Ritsu Cat out of his head scritch trance. Both of them are quite serious actually, but Ritsu is a bit miffed that you chose to sit next to his cat version and not him...

Subaru honestly does not mind that you’re spending a bunch of time with his cat counterpart. If anything, he’s one of the least jealous ones. (After all, it’s still him, kind of. He has no need to view that as competition.) Be prepared to have a cute tea time session with him and his cat, even though neither of them will touch you.

Haku and Haku Cat are menaces when together. It’s almost as though they’re locked in a playful competition for your attention, and won’t give up until you’re an embarrassed mess on the floor. Haku kisses your cheek? Haku Cat is giving you a few licks. Haku takes your hand? Haku Cat settles on your thighs. Haku wraps an arm around your waist? Haku Cat climbs onto your shoulders. It’s never ending.

Zenji and Zenji Cat are the most energetic duo you’ve ever seen. Both float around your head and yap. Zenji will hold conversations with his cat counterpart and even go so far as to play the biwa while Zenji Cat sings. It’s a fun time, being around those two. They’re very wholesome!

Edward doesn’t mind that much. He can share. The most likely scenario to come out of Edward Cat hogging all of your attention is Edward himself teasing you just to watch you squirm. He knows all your possible ticklish spots, gently brushing over them in a way that makes you jostle the poor kitty in your lap. (Edward Cat does not wake up.)

Rui and Rui Cat are complicated. Chances are Rui Cat has dove under some furniture—and since you are familiar with his curse, you understand why. Despite your attempts to coax him out, Rui Cat will not budge. Rui watches you and sighs ruefully—it’s sweet that you’re still worried about him being lonely, even as a cat.

Lyca doesn’t know how to feel. You’re supposed to smell like him so other people know not to mess with you, but now that this cat has taken residence on your lap, you smell like...cat. Lyca grumbles something under his breath before taking the spot beside you, getting as close to you as humanly possible. Don’t mind him! It’s simply necessary.

Yuri doesn’t let his cat counterpart close to the lab, much to the cat’s chagrin. You hold all the power here, though! If you give Yuri Cat enough attention, he’ll stay away from the experiments in favor of you. Just be prepared for a jealous Yuri (who will not admit he’s jealous) when he sees how much attention he missed out on!

Jiro Cat spends a lot of time sleeping. You’re likely fawning over how cute his lil face is when Jiro stumbles upon you. He will agree—I mean, animals like cats have been domesticated and have therefore developed traits such as a shorter muzzle, extended juvenile behavior, smaller brains, and—oh, you probably don’t want a lecture about Domestication Syndrome, do you?

[prettygirl-gabi]

Pretty Annoying

Pairing: Azzi Fudd x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: you and Azzi go live to review a PR package….

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav , @liloandstitchstan , @kaliblazin

I should’ve known going live with Azzi while trying on a PR package full of outfits was a dangerous idea. Not because she was chaotic—she was honestly the calm one between us. But because she had a one-track mind when it came to me, and it was always stuck in the gutter.

Still, I had promised the brand I’d do a little live try-on and review, and I figured it’d be cute to have Azzi on with me. Give her some fashion commentary duties. She agreed too quickly.

Our shared apartment had great lighting in the living room, so I propped up my phone on the tripod, arranged the box of clothes beside me, and set a few pieces aside I already knew I wanted to model. Azzi sat cross-legged on the couch in a cropped UConn hoodie and shorts, hair in braids, looking effortlessly fine. She had her iPad ready for chat-monitoring, but I could already tell from her smirk that her attention span would be short-lived.

“Alright,” I said into the camera as people poured into the live, “we’re doing a little PR unboxing slash try-on haul. I roped Azzi into being my personal commentator.”

Azzi raised two fingers in a lazy peace sign. “Hi guys. I’ll be rating her outfits. Totally professionally.”

“She’s lying,” I muttered, pulling out the first piece. It was a silky, champagne-colored mini dress with spaghetti straps. I held it up for the camera. “This looks fire already.”

I ducked into the hallway to change and came back out, adjusting the hem slightly. “Okay, what are we thinking?”

Azzi looked up and went quiet for a beat too long.

I turned to the side, then looked back at her. “Hello? Judge Judy?”

Her eyes flicked up to my face, but she was clearly trying not to laugh. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“The dress, Azzi.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s…fine.” Her voice cracked mid-word.

“You suck at this,” I snorted, spinning once for the camera, showing how the back dipped low. “She’s drooling, y’all.”

“She is,” someone typed in the chat, and I could see the username: azzisgfclub.

Azzi rolled her eyes and tried to look serious, tapping on the iPad. “Y’all need to behave.”

I went back to change and heard Azzi say into the mic, “She knows what she’s doing,” like I wasn’t in the next room grinning.

The next fit was a two-piece set—a fitted ribbed crop top and matching midi skirt in dusty blue. I walked back out, adjusting the top a little, then posed with one hand on my hip. “Better?”

Azzi looked me up and down and licked her lips before she caught herself. “Mhm.”

“That’s all I get? Mhm?” I asked, smirking at the camera.

“She’s not even looking at the clothes,” someone else commented. “Azzi is analyzing the body.”

Azzi scoffed but said nothing. I watched her trying to keep a straight face and failing.

I walked past her toward the phone to read more comments—and that’s when it happened.

Unintentionally, as I turned to adjust the camera angle, I bent slightly to fix the tripod leg and ended up sticking my butt right in Azzi’s face.

I didn’t even realize what I’d done until I heard the loud smack that echoed on the mic.

“AZZI. JAZLYN. FUDD!” I turned, eyes wide, half laughing, half scandalized.

She just shrugged, eyes twinkling. “It was right there.”

The comments exploded.

“SHE JUST SMACKED HER ASS???!!!”

“Azzi said idc if we’re live 😭😭”

“Y/n: models Azzi: loses religion”

“Nah she’s focused on everything BUT the outfits”

“Azzi is TOUCH STARVEDEEE”

“Y/n gon’ need a new PR package AND new cheeks 💀💀💀”

I covered my face, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. “Y’all are doing TOO much.”

Azzi, smug as ever, leaned into the mic. “They’re not wrong.”

I pointed a warning finger at her. “You’re supposed to be professional.”

“I was trying,” she said, tossing a pillow onto her lap like she needed a distraction. “But then your whole ass came flying into my face, and I made a reflex decision.”

I gave the camera a fake-annoyed look and said, “This is what I deal with. Every day.”

More laughs in the comments. I retreated to change into the last outfit, a sleek black jumpsuit with a deep V and fitted waist. When I stepped back out, I saw Azzi’s eyes immediately drop to my waist.

I was mid-spin when I caught her hand reaching out to tug on the tie at the back of the jumpsuit. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing it. Totally innocent.”

The chat wasn’t buying it either.

“Azzi’s like lemme just—adjust 😏”

“She is FOCUSED. Not on the jumpsuit tho.”

“Azzi you’re embarrassing yourself. (Keep going.)”

I laughed and turned toward her. “You know, you could at least try to look at the fabric, not my ass.”

Azzi tilted her head and said, deadpan, “It’s a really nice ass, though.”

I gasped in mock offense. “That’s not the point of the haul!”

“You’re distracting me on purpose.”

“You agreed to be my judge!”

“I thought I was judging you, not the clothes.”

I stared at her, grinning, as I read more of the comments aloud. “Azzi is drooling. Azzi’s girl looks too good. Azzi is focused on everything but the fashion. Damn, I feel so supported.”

Azzi side-eyed me. “You’re pretty annoying.”

I blinked, playing it up. “Oh my God… you think I’m pretty?”

She groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. “And that’s the annoying part.”

The chat exploded again.

“AZZI STOPPP THAT WAS SO CUTE”

“PRETTY ANNOYING 😭😭😭”

“Just propose already omg”

“That was the most sapphic hate-to-love moment ever”

I dramatically clutched my chest. “You know what? I’m gonna start doing these hauls solo. Next time, I’ll call Paige.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “She wouldn’t survive.”

I laughed and walked back into frame, grabbing the next piece. “Okay, we’ve got a few accessories left. Can you focus now?”

Azzi looked me up and down again, then shrugged. “I’ll try. No promises.”

Halfway through showing off a bag, she reached up and brushed her hand down my arm like it was nothing.

I looked down. “Ma’am?”

“Just admiring the…uh…texture. Of your skin.”

“The texture?” I deadpanned.

Azzi just grinned, knowing she was caught.

I wrapped up the haul with a final wave to the camera. “Thank y’all for tuning in. This PR haul has turned into thirst hour for Azzi, but we love that for her.”

“Love is a strong word,” Azzi muttered.

I reached down and kissed her forehead. “She loves it here.”

The comments cheered and flooded the screen with hearts and “SHIPPP” and “AZZI IS WHIPPEDDDD.”

Before I ended the live, Azzi leaned into the camera, gave it a mischievous look, and said, “Thanks for watching. She’s mine, by the way.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Possessive much?”

“Pretty annoying, remember?”

And she winked.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[lucenra]

He Knew My Name

𝓟airing ↳ Abby X F!Reader

𝓘𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 .. you finally gain the courage to talk to the most known guy on campus.

𝓦arnings .. no warnings !

𝓐uthor's note .. this is a college au (he would def be a frat boy)

It was another day on campus, and for the first time ever, you were late.

The door creaked loudly as you slipped into the lecture hall — thirty-two minutes past the hour. A few heads turned, some with amusement, others with annoyance, but you didn’t really care. You scanned the room quickly and slid into the first empty seat you spotted, near the middle, hoping not to draw more attention than you already had.

You reached into your bag to grab your notebook and pen — and froze.

Of course. You’d left both in your dorm.

You let out a quiet sigh, already annoyed with yourself. Class was halfway over, and now you couldn’t even pretend to be productive. You glanced to your left, debating whether it was worth asking someone for help — and then your eyes landed on the person sitting next to you.

Abby.

Of course. Of all people.

He was one of the most recognizable faces on campus — always showing up in someone’s TikTok, always wearing that same silver chain, and always, always too pretty for his own good. People whispered about him like he wasn’t real. Girls giggled when he passed. Professors somehow always let him slide with late work. He had that calm, cocky energy, like he knew he didn’t have to try too hard.

And now, he was seated right next to you, calmly taking notes with perfect posture and a watch you were pretty sure cost more than your tuition deposit.

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. But not for long.

“Hey,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual.

He turned toward you, meeting your eyes, and up close, he was even more unreal. Sharp jawline, dark brown eyes, slightly messy pink hair, and an unreadable expression like he wasn’t used to being approached without a purpose.

“Do you have a pen I can borrow?” you asked.

Abby blinked once, then reached into his bag without saying a word. He pulled out a sleek black pen— probably some unnecessarily expensive kind, and handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours lightly. Just for a second.

“Thanks,” you muttered, suddenly very aware of the limited space between you.

“No problem,” he said, his voice low and smooth, before turning back to his notes.

You grabbed a random flyer from your bag to write on, pretending not to be hyper-aware of the fact that Abby just lent you his pen.

You felt his eyes on you once or twice after that. Not in a weird way. Just… curious.

And somehow, even with no notebook, no pen of your own, and no idea what the professor was going on about, the rest of the class didn’t feel like such a disaster anymore.

♡

After class, you made your way to the library to meet up with your best friend, Zoey. You spotted her at a long table near the back, headphones on, completely locked into study mode.

You crept up behind her.

“Boo.”

She jumped and yanked off her headphones. “Oh my—! You scared me!” she laughed, turning to face you.

You dropped your bag onto the chair next to hers and sat down, grinning. “Okay. You will not believe who I just had an interaction with.”

Zoey’s eyes lit up instantly. “Who, who, who?? Tell me right now.”

“Abby. As in the Abby. Abbs.”

She practically squealed, loud enough that a few people looked over. You threw your hand up quickly.

“Shh! We’re in a library, girl,” you whispered with a smile.

Zoey clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. But ohmygosh, he’s so hot.”

You leaned in, voice low. “Right? And get this— I forgot all my stuff, and he gave me his pen. Like, actually handed it to me.”

Zoey gasped. “Wait, handed it to you with eye contact, or like… tossed it in your direction?”

“Eye contact,” you confirmed with a nod. “And his fingers brushed mine. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it honestly felt like a scene out of a movie.”

Zoey dropped her head against the back of her chair in mock shock. “You’re living my fantasy. I’ve never even been in the same row as him.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, trying to sound chill, “he definitely knows I exist now.”

Zoey leaned closer, her expression serious in that overly dramatic Zoey way. “So what’s the plan? Are you gonna say hi next time? Make small talk? Seduce him with your perfectly winged eyeliner?”

You laughed. “I mean, I want to… but what if he just thinks I’m another girl trying to get his attention? He probably deals with that every day.”

“Okay, first of all? You’re not just another girl. You’re you. And second, he gave you his pen. That’s, like, sacred college bonding.”

You smiled despite yourself.

Zoey suddenly perked up. “Okay, forget the pen. Forget the tension. I have even bigger news.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Bigger than Abby’s hand brushing mine?”

She nodded, eyes wide. “Beach. Party. Tonight.”

You blinked. “What beach?”

“Haeundae Beach,” she said like it was common knowledge. “Apparently someone on the swim team’s cousin is throwing it. Bonfire, drinks, music — the whole scene.”

You gave her a skeptical look. “You know I don’t do sand like that.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned. “You’ll survive. And it’s not just any party, everyone is going. Even Mira and Rumi said yes.”

You laughed. “Okay, but are we talking chill bonfire vibes or full blackout-regrets-in-the-morning energy?”

“Both,” she grinned. “But like, aesthetic regrets. Trust me. We’re going. I already picked your outfit.”

You groaned but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you love it.”

♡

The sun had just started to set when you and Zoey arrived at the beach. The sky was streaked with warm shades of orange and pink, and the breeze off the ocean felt cool against your skin. Somewhere in the distance, music thumped, heavy bass mixing with waves crashing against the shore.

Groups of people were already gathered around the fire. Some were dancing barefoot in the sand, others were lounging on blankets with drinks in hand. Someone had strung fairy lights between two wooden poles, casting a soft golden glow over everything.

“This is actually kind of… nice,” you admitted, pulling the sleeves of your oversized tee down past your hands.

“Told you,” Zoey said proudly. “Vibes? Immaculate.”

You were about to agree when your gaze shifted across the crowd… and your heart dropped into your stomach.

There, leaning casually against a log by the fire, red cup in hand — was Abby.

Same smirk. Same chain. Same energy like he didn’t have to try to be the center of attention — he just was.

Zoey followed your gaze and gasped. “No. Freaking. Way.”

“Did you know he was going to be here?” you whispered, eyes still locked on him.

“No! I swear! But… okay, maybe this really is fate.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “Don’t start.”

She grinned, nudging your side. “Start what? I’m just saying… the beach is magical. He’s here. You look hot. And maybe… tonight’s not about borrowed pens anymore.”

You glanced back at Abby — and this time, he looked up.

Right at you.

And smiled.

[szatears]

How would modernau!smoke propose? 😊

love love love this idea so much... also sorry it's like a month and a half late i forgot it was in my drafts 😭

he would put so much time and effort into it, so much so that he'd start overthinking literally everything. and of course, stack would be there to help. how smoke would propose varied depending on the type of person you were.

if you were a more outgoing person who loved all the extra stuff, then he'd do something that aligned with that. maybe inviting your close friends and family, renting out your favourite restaurant for the night, loads of gifts and balloons... all that type of stuff.

if you were more reserved and like things to be more private and personal for the two of you to share, then he'd make sure it was up to that standard. he's take you out to dinner, take your photos for you, compliment you like he always did, making sure you still didn't suspect anything. and because he was just attentive like that, he knew the best spots to pop the question at. on the quiet steps of the museum that you loved so much, the park with the cherry blossom trees that you walked past almost every day... he planned it so it was perfect.

stack definitely helped calm his brother's nerves down, but also distract you so smoke could do his plannings in peace. he'd get you to tell him your ring size obliviously, claiming that he wanted to buy one for his girl, and that her hands were of a similar size to yours. little did you know you'd be getting the ring of your dreams soon.

he's be annoying with it though, and because stack was usually like that, you'd brushed it off. he followed you around the house and garden, even watched real housewives with you. anything to make sure you didn't think much of smoke being gone too long.

when the moment came, smoke down on one knee in front of you, you felt every emotion. the fact that a nee life was starting before you scared you, but it was with him, and that was beautiful and reassuring in its own way.

you had him panicked of course, rambling through his speech, his breath hitching when you didn't immediately say yes after he finished. but the second you did, his eyes closed contently, a huge smile on his face as he slipped the ring on your finger.

it was a perfect moment, perfect for just you and him.

[peachyhotteok]

a deal with the devil.. | jwy x reader

synopsis: a beautiful demon wooyoung offers you a deal you can’t pass up.. or can you when it turns out there was a typo in your contract?

warnings: 18+, smut, alcohol, a j*b (jk)

pairings: demon!wooyoung x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

notes: hey guys, welcome to my first post back on tumblr, bare with me i havent written in years… i hope you love!

I can never win.

I bust my ass, I do the most, yet, I never win.

“I just wish for once, my effort wouldn’t go unnoticed.”

You groaned as tired hands met your forehead at the sight of the email that was gifted to you with a little red bubble next to the envelope icon on your computer screen. Every year it’s the same bullshit message congratulating anyone else but you on their special employee of the month promotion, the promotion that every year you would pull late nights in the office for, the air in your cubicle reeking of exhaustion from over exerting yourself to appease your company.

I mean, would you ever even get to show what you had in you if they never even gave you the chance?

In celebration of our new Employee of the Year, there will be an obligatory lunch today in the company cafeteria. We will be providing food and other refreshments while our CEO gives a congratulatory speech in honor of our new promotee.

You chuckled to yourself at the thought of your boss stumbling over his words while trying to read a tribute to someone he barely even knew. Absolute chicken scratch, most likely written in a hurried swipe of his pen in an attempt to get back to the large load of nothing that he would do behind his desk every day. You shrugged off the comedic thought and brought your attention back to your work that you were no longer even close to being interested in doing anymore after the news, but bills would in fact not pay themselves.

By the time lunch rolled around, you could feel your fingers aching from typing all morning and decided that maybe you should stretch a little… and maybe a free lunch wasn't all that bad even if it was a slight morale crushing celebration in the first place.

You made your way to the cafe, the hustle and bustle of people and voices around you annoying you all the same. Scoping out the tables and observing all the options of food available with the influx of commotion around you had you settling with a bottle of water and a pastry out of a little white box from a bakery down the street just to get out of the chaos. You found yourself a nice corner towards the back of the room to stand and listen to the ceremony, if you would even call it that. People spoke amongst themselves as the CEO made a fool of himself as expected, you found yourself scanning the room out of boredom.

You locked eyes with an unfamiliar, yet trance inducing face. You’ve never seen him around the office before, but chalked it up to him most likely being in another department. Turning away, you brought your attention back to the front of the room, counting down the moments for this sorry excuse of a celebration to end. A chill ran through your body as you sensed a newfound presence behind you, an almost eerie feeling rose red flags in your mind as you moved to the side to let whomever pass. The presence stepped up to you and turned to introduce himself.

“Jung Wooyoung, if you were wondering.” He held his hand out to you, waiting for you to put your own in his awaiting palm. You assessed his features carefully. He was nowhere near bad looking. Actually, quite the opposite. His deep black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, stray pieces that would not fit resting across his forehead and framing his cheeks. Dark, entrancing eyes that felt as if they could stare directly into your soul, learning all of your secrets with just a glace. A prominent, yet beautiful nose sat right above his plump, smirking lips. He smelled of bergamot, vanilla and slightly of firewood. Something didn’t feel right.. But you just couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. You surrendered a hand and shook his, introducing yourself.

“___ ___, I don't believe I’ve seen you around before, I work in the development and sales department. You?”

His smirk slowly spread into an almost smile, almost as if he was hiding true intentions. He pulled his hand away and stepped closer to you, just close enough for your conversation to be deemed private in a way.

“What if I told you I worked in the… wants and needs department?” You cocked an eyebrow at what you felt to be an odd way of flirting. Scoffing, you stepped back to keep some extra distance from this stranger named Wooyoung. He closed the gap again and proceeded to speak to you in a hushed tone.

“Okay, okay. I see I failed to lighten the mood, so let me cut to the chase. You have wants and wishes, and this is where I come in. I’m here to grant you those wishes under one condition.”

This guy is crazy. You stepped as far away as you could, making a beeline for the women's bathroom to get away from this absolute psychopath. You were sure you were dreaming, no one in their right mind would approach a woman like that. Especially in the workplace. You stepped into the single bathroom and locked the door behind you, expecting that creep to get the hint and hit the road.

“Can you please hear me out? I’m really bad at these persuasive talks so I’m just going to be honest. Believe it or not, I’m just like you. I hear wishes, and it’s my job to come and attempt to grant them.”

“Like some kind of fucking genie?”

“Now that's just rude. I’m a demon, working for the Devil himself.”

“Oh you’re a whole nother type of insane, I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

Before you could turn back around to race to the door, Wooyoung was there. Leaned against the exit with his black button down sleeves rolled up, arms crossed with visible annoyance on his smug face. Confusion ran across yours.

“How did you- You were just- Huh?” Your hands flew up to your hair, trying to process what was going on in front of you.

“Hey man, I’m just trying to help you and I’m starting to regret it.” Wooyoung breathed out, as if trying to recollect himself.

“They call me Wooyoung. I come from down under, and I really don’t mean Australia. I’m one of Satan’s finest demons if I do say so myself. And I’m here to offer you, yes you, your most precious wish. The catch? Your first born kicker. Don’t worry, I’ll take really good care of the little one. I’ve always wanted one of my own!”

He spoke quickly, almost as if trying to just brush over what he just asked you for. He raised an arm and ruffled your hair with his large hand. I hissed quietly and swatted his hand away.

“And what if I don’t have a kid, then what? Will my wish not come true or something? This whole spiel sounds ridiculous and I must be going crazy.” For a brief moment, you did take things into consideration. You were a very career driven woman and kids were never in your life plans, as you wanted to focus on yourself.

“No, you’re not crazy and no, you’ll still get it. But at least we know you were committed enough in the first place.” Wooyoung gave a sarcastic thumbs up along with a cheesy grin almost as if he was in a corny infomercial.

Standing back up straight, he clenched one of his fists, a small flame flickering inside of it. He opened his hand back up, a piece of crumbled printer paper and a pen sitting in it. The edges were slightly singed and it wasn’t the most appealing thing, being that you were signing away a child that wasn’t even guaranteed to come into this world yet. Your eyes shot from the sorry excuse of a contract back to the ‘demon’ in front of you.

“Well that’s certainly a promising contract.”

He huffed in slight irritation and snatched his hand and the contract back.

“I came from Hell man, What did you expect? Listen, you can take it or leave it. Your choice. Let me just say this, If you wish for something again, it won’t be me next time. It’ll be someone wayyy less attractive, and I personally don't want that for you.” You sighed in defeat and scanned the document in hand. Before signing, you glance at him once more. He jerks his hand out closer as a sign of impatience. You quickly signed your name. The second your pen left the paper, it went up in a puff of smoke.

“Pleasure doing business with you, beautiful. Now I’m off. See you when you have a baby!” And just like that, he was gone. Not even a moment later, still processing what just went down, there was a knock from a woman urgent to use the bathroom after too many cups of coffee from the cafe. You apologized and made your way back to your cubicle, keeping an eye out for any oddly hot demon men lurking around the office.

—

After the mindfuck of whatever today was, you could definitely say walking in your house and getting in the shower was probably the highlight of your night. You turned the dial all the way to the right, making the water as hot as it possibly could go. Stripping down to your black bra and matching panties, You stuck your foot into the shower to test the water temperature. You adjusted the dial slightly and shed from your undergarments and stepped into the shower.

As you started to shampoo your hair, a vaguely familiar smell filled the humid, steamy room. You couldn’t quite put a finger on the smell, but you knew it from somewhere. You smelled the shampoo on your hands and checked the bottle.

Did I buy the wrong one? No, this is the same one I always use. You placed the bottle down and stuck your head out from behind the shower curtain to sniff the air.

“Heyyy sweet stuff. Did you miss me?”

Your eyes widened as you slowly whipped your head around, meeting the same dark, soul snatching eyes that were in front of you earlier that day. You let out a squeal and quickly covered your bare body with the floral shower curtain.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. But, if I’m telling the truth, I’m probably gonna have to.” You cocked my head, confused as to what the man meant. He nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

“So do you remember the little contract I had you sign earlier? Yeah so, there might have kinda been a small typo.”

“By typo.. what kind of typo? Like it has to be a certain gender, or you take them at a certain age, or only if they look a certain way?”

“See that’s the funny, actually hilarious thing.” His eyes strayed to the ground in an almost emotion invoking kind of innocence. You kind of felt bad in a way seeing him so flustered, he was only a guy–a demon that wanted to do his job right. Something you knew all too well.

“I know it was supposed to be first born but uh, the contract might have actually said first porn. I swear it wasn’t on purpose! Although, if I had seen all of that back in that bathroom today, it might’ve been.” Your mind went blank as you took in what was going on. Every event that occurred today was just too much to process at once.

“Do you mind waiting in the living room? I uh, I want to finish my shower.” Wooyoung nodded and exited the bathroom as you disappeared back behind the shower curtain. You sighed and leaned against the wall, sliding down it to sit at the bottom of the tub, letting the water run over your hair and body lightly.

Well he’s not ugly, is it worth it? Nah ___, have some morals…

But, you would finally get that position at work you wanted, with only a fraction of the energy you’ve been exerting wasted. You’re almost positive a few people have fucked their way up the ladder, and at least you wouldnt be doing it within the company… A little porno never hurt anyone, right?

You quickly finished washing your hair, body coming straight after. Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself and walked across the hall to your bedroom to throw on something quick and sexy.

Rummaging through your drawers, you found a skimpy baby pink lingerie set you had saved for a ‘special’ night and a baggy t-shirt to put on over it. After dressing, you made your way downstairs to the living room to confront the man who had seemed to move from his assigned spot on the couch, to the kitchen.

“What the hell man, why are you in my kitchen? Don’t demons eat souls or something? Why are you going through my cabinets?” You reached up and blocked the cabinet he was about to open. He groaned and stepped back, crossing his arms.

“Demon or not, I get hungry for human stuff too, you know. Pizza, cake, alcohol, all that type of shit.” You smirked and bent down to open a cabinet near the bottom of the sink, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid. You held it out to Wooyoung, nudging him to take a swig of the vodka you were passing him. He cocked an eyebrow and looked down at you and your offer.

“Glad you’re into alcohol. I’ll take you up on your little typo contract. But first, some liquid courage.” I twisted off the top of the bottle, flicking it somewhere across the kitchen. As you put the spout to your lips a strong hand took the bottle from you, while another warm one grazed your chin, pushing it upwards.

“Allow me.”

You threw your head back and let him pour a hefty swig down your throat while keeping eye contact with him. Small trickles of liquid slip from the corners of your mouth as you swallowed, the sting feeling good in contradiction to the thoughts going through your head. Wooyoung eventually pulled the bottle away from your mouth and took it into his own.

He stooped down to your level, lifting your chin a little more, this time with just one of his tanned fingers. He brought his face close to your neck, placing his tongue where the stream of alcohol that dripped out of your mouth ended.

You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath against your sparsely wet neck, warmth pooling both around the area and in your lower stomach. Slowly, he dragged his tongue up from your collar bone to the corner of your mouth, stopping as he got to your lips. His plump ones lingered over yours. They felt hungry in a way, as if he could swallow you whole any minute now. Your eyes fluttered shut awaiting impact, but none came. Wooyoung let out a light chuckle and pulled back, taking the bottle to his own mouth, downing a couple gulps for himself.

“Eager, aren't you?”

You couldn’t tell if it was the heat from the alcohol, the situation or just him, but your eyes wouldn’t leave his figure. You eyed Wooyoung like he was the finest piece of man you’ve ever seen in your life. I mean, he definitely was one of them, but tonight it seems like he looks twenty times better than he did back at work. He removed the bottle from his lips, licking them after as he looked down at you. He smirked as you sat there and genuinely took in all of the dark and handsome man that stood in front of you.

The crisp black button down clung to him loosely, a button or two undone at the chest so the necklaces he wore were visible against his smooth chest. His long black hair wasn’t pulled back this time, draping around his face in soft tufts. The black jeans and black leather boots to match, it’s like every part of him screamed sexy. He smiled and took another sip of vodka.

“Like what you see?” He purred smugly while passing the bottle back to you to drink from. You blushed softly and nodded, smirking back at the man in front of me. “Don’t we have a contract to deal with?” You grabbed Wooyoung’s hand and led him back up the stairs to your room. Both of you stumbling up the stairs, eager for what awaits each other once you enter the bedroom. He closed the door behind you two and pulled a video camera out of one of his inner coat pockets. You laughed and took the vodka bottle from his hand.

“Came prepared huh? What if I wasn’t even going to say yes?” You sipped at the clear liquid and kneeled at the head of the bed, sitting back on your feet against the headboard. He shrugged his shoulders and licked his lips at the sight of your thighs spreading upon contact with the mattress, a desirous look glistening in his dark eyes.

“You signed a contract princess, it was only fair you say yes. Ready?” You nodded your head, looking the man in his eyes. He kicked off his shoes and plopped himself down at the foot of the bed. He flipped the camera open, clicking the record button and pointing it at you. Wooyoung peeked at you from behind the camcorder, a visible wide grin on his face.

“Go ahead and show me what’s under that old shirt. I know you put something sweet on for me.” The seductive rasp in his voice gave you chills as you listened to him speak. You slowly began to lift your baggy t-shirt up and over your head, teasing him in the process. When you finally got it off, the man shifted in the spot he was sitting, adjusting himself at the reveal of the lacey garments underneath. Tossing the shirt to the side you leaned back, moving your legs from under you to out in front of you and pulled them to your chest, a newfound shyness taking over your body at Wooyoung’s reaction. You watched him take his bottom lip between his teeth as he got himself more comfortable at the foot of the large bed.

“Go ahead, I want you to start without me.”

You felt your face flush red as he grabbed one of your ankles gently and pushed it farther away from the other, camera still in his other hand. You spread your bent legs slightly, sliding a small hand underneath the thin, laced fabric. You began to feel all over your folds, the wetness increasing by the second. A soft moan threatened to escape your lips, but you trapped it with a closed mouth whimper and shut your eyes, leaning your head back against the headboard. The demon in front of you leaned in, making sure to keep the camera in focus and brought a soft, but strong hand up to your mouth. His thumb grazed your bottom lip, pressing down to open your mouth up and slip said thumb in. The sudden touch making you open your eyes and look at him, half lidded in lust.

“I want to hear every sound you make. Don’t try and hide them, you’ll only piss me off. Also,-” His warm hand left your mouth and was brought to your hip, grasping onto the side of the pink lace panties. The warmth only increased the longer it was there, not long after I realized what the man was doing. Not long after a tearing sound could be heard, Wooyoung flinging the now darkened, wet fabric across the room and sitting back at the end of the bed, steadying the camera.

“Those needed to be off, I want to watch you play with that pretty pussy of yours.”

He positioned himself, along with the camera, at a place that he’d be able to get a good view of your now wet slit. You looked Wooyoung in his eyes as you circled your clit with a drenched finger, his face alone only turning you on more, you wanted to put on a show. For him. He broke eye contact to look lower down your body, to get a visual of the entertainment the camera was getting.

“Aah, Wooyoung..”

You whimpered softly as you slid a finger into yourself, grabbing your swollen breast with your free hand. Wooyoung watched in awe as you called out his name while pleasuring yourself. You pumped your finger slowly in your soaking cunt, letting out every soft whimper and cry you had in you as you continued to massage and pinch at your hardened bud with your other hand. You could feel a small knot in your stomach begin to tighten, causing you to let out a long unexpected whine. A visible bulge could be seen under the man's jeans and no matter which way he sat, it was unable to be hidden.

“Fuck this, It’s my turn.” The dark haired demon set the camcorder down on the nightstand next to the bed, angling it to face the two of us. He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off of his body to reveal a beautifully toned midsection, tanned and glistening with the little bit of sweat radiating from his warm and excited body. He slid off his jeans quickly and climbed back onto the bed.

“Lay down.”

He ordered, to which you complied without an argument. Wooyoung trapped your body under his, him automatically attacking your neck with rough bites and kisses. As his tongue lapped over a spot close to your earlobe, he unlatched your bra and flung it, tossing it wherever all the other clothes had flown to.

While leaving tiny red bites from your ear to your collarbone he managed to get two warm fingers between my legs, and started to massage your now throbbing clit. You let out a soft groan, biting your lip as you instinctively spread your legs a little more, now fully vulnerable to Wooyoung. He pulled his mouth away from the spot on your collarbone that was now stained with purple. Using his free hand he grabbed at your face, squeezing it with one hand and turning it, making you look in his eyes.

As his eyes connected with yours, without warning he slid both fingers into your now dripping pussy. Your teeth captured your lip once more, hard enough to possibly even draw a little blood. His thick fingers were now filling you in a way that you definitely couldn't do on your own, the man using his free hand to pry your mouth back open.

“I said I want to hear every last sound that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours.” His tongue slid across your bottom lip, causing your lips to part a little, giving him the chance to slip his warm tongue in.

Wooyoung's hand found the back of your head and tangled itself in your still damp hair as pulled you in for a deeper kiss. He slowly pushed his two fingers further in you, your breath hitching and body jerking forward onto his fingers, as if begging without words for him to go deeper. He complied to your neediness almost if he had read your mind. You squealed into the kiss, catching the feeling of his underwear encased bulge twitch underneath you.

While still pumping his fingers in and out of your heat, Wooyoung grazed your sensitive, swollen clit with his thumb softly as he pulled away from the kiss to attack your left breast with rough bites and sucks. He used his tongue to play with your nipple, before taking it into his mouth with a soft groan leaving his mouth in the process.

You threw my head back and let your own cries of pleasure fill the bedroom. The bulge in his boxers felt as if it was getting bigger and bigger as the moments went on, your moans and expressions just for his fingers alone made him lose patience, imagining how you would look and sound if he went all the way… And right now, Wooyoung needed that.

He slid his fingers out of you, your pussy now feeling empty without him. You pouted as he let your nipple leave his mouth with a small pop, whimpering at the sudden loss of his touch. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he licked off all the juices that resided on them, seeming to enjoy every last second of it.

“You taste so fucking good… I just know you feel even better…”

He lifted up while sliding down his boxers, letting his hard, twitching dick pop out of them and tossed them away into the now building pile of discarded clothing. You looked down with wide eyes and battled yourself internally at the sight. This is not at all what you could’ve prepared yourself for. He was both thicker and bigger than you expected and knew you were in for a rather long night.

“Be easy..” You muttered out, choking back on your words.

“Aw, is someone scared it’s gonna hurt? Don’t worry princess.. I’ll start off gentle.” Wooyoung looked down at you with pure hunger and greed in his eyes. He was ready to absolutely devour you as soon as he could, as if you were a big plate of dinner, at risk of going cold before he could get a bite. His strong hands gripped at your waist, lifting your lower half off of the mattress a little, lining himself up with your now dripping entrance. He teased at it, rubbing up and down your folds in an effort to coat his throbbing cock with your slick, warm juices in hopes he’d be able to slide into your tight, tight heat just the littlest bit easier.

“Are you ready for my dick, pretty girl?”

Before you could muster up a response, he was already entering himself inside of you. He threw his head back and let a loud, obnoxious groan spill from his lips and slowly pushed the rest of himself in, pausing every inch or so to let you adjust to him. You chimed in with your own sweet sounding cry, making his skin tingle.

“Aaaghh.. Fuck- you’re so fucking tight…”

He bottomed out and still kept pushing, wishing he could fill you with even more than he already has. His eyes closed tight, trying to get used to the feeling of your warmth around him. You clawed at his wrists and hands wrapped around your waist holding you tightly, as if you could slip away and disappear at any given moment.

You two sat still for a few seconds, room stuffy from the tension building between. He quickly dropped his head back down to you and trailed his tongue across his lower lip, half lidded, lust filled eyes making contact with yours. He gripped at your waist tighter. There was no hurt, no pain, just pure pleasure happening between you and this literal demon.

“I-I’m going to move now okay? Is that alright?” His previously smug demeanor tossed out of the window, now a bumbling mess of a man eager to get himself off.

I nodded quickly. “Please Wooyoung.. Please have your way with me…” You let out loud moans of pleasure as he began to pump himself in and out of you. You bucked your hips forward to meet his thrusts halfway, to make sure he was receiving the same kind of pleasure he was giving. Wooyoung’s hands leave your waist as he drops down, pulling himself closer to you. His arms now rested on either side of your head, him burying his face in the side of your neck, grunting and moaning as he fucked you into the mattress.

His strokes were rough, calculated, rhythmic even. Aside from a few messy strokes he gave you, to let you know he was thoroughly enjoying his time inside of you.. Maybe even a little too much.

You couldn’t deny that you were feeling the same. He started to pick up the pace, clapping and slapping sounds bouncing off of the walls in the room. You’re almost sure your screams of his name and other randomized curse words could be heard by all of your neighbors, but you didn’t care. Wooyoung squeezed your ass, slapping it full force as your grip on his shoulders tightened while he continued to bottom out inside of you, making you cry out in ecstasy.

“Oh my god.” You called out as he pulled you all the way into on him, pussy throbbing as he pulsated inside of your heat. He held you close to him for a moment, his dick still buried deep in you, beating a mile a minute as if it had its very own heartbeat. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening rapidly, arching your back in pure bliss. The warmth from his chest on yours was about to send you over edge and he could tell.

“I’m so close, Wooyoung! Right there please!”

He took this as an opportunity to change positions, him flipping you so you were bent over with him behind you. Before you could protest him denying you the orgasm that was beyond ready to break, he pushed your back down into an arch and pushed himself back into you with no warning. You yelped out in both pain and pleasure of being filled up again so quickly and unexpectedly. Your hands flew backwards to grab at his, but he managed to get both of your hands in one of his own, pinning them against your back, shoving you deeper into the mattress.

“Fuck, you feel amazing on my dick, ____. It’s like this pretty pussy was made just for me… Go ahead and cum on it baby girl.” He whispered as his warm tongue slipped out of his mouth to lap at the back of your shoulder. You let out a high pitched moan as he pulled almost all the way out of you and thrusted himself all the way back in, not giving you even a second to beg for mercy.

The thickness of his member stretching out your tight, saturated walls was enough to drive you ballistic. You clawed and scratched at his hand holding yours hostage, as he fucked into you while groaning loudly. The knot you had been holding for so long finally snapped, letting your juices shower out all over his dick, as he continued to pump it in and out of your increased wetness.

The sounds of his groans and growls were music to you ears as he released your hands and gripped onto your throat tightly, the searing heat from his warm hands now wrapped around your neck. A loud euphoric screech escaped your parted lips as he continued to fuck me deeper and harder with every stroke, pounding me mercilessly.

He used his hand around your throat at leverage to pull your body up against his, his spare hand snaking around your waist to hold you up. His hand moved from your neck to your face to turn it back to his, smashing his lips into yours for a steamy, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed together, lips were being bitten and tongues were being sucked on as he plowed into you violently, eliciting sultry, disgusting moans and whimpers to leave your lips.

Wouyoung pulled away, biting down on his lip hard. Both hands met your waist as his thrusts started to get more untimely and sloppy, his breathing getting heavier and heavier as the seconds passed.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He called out as his pumping got more out of rhythm. You took this chance to fuck yourself back on to him, giving more of the work to yourself to pull his own orgasm out of him the way he did yours.

“Come on baby, cum for me. You deserve to fill me up, so do it.”

This must have brought him to the edge, because the minute those words left your mouth, his entire body shivered against your own. He quickly pushed his twitching dick into me completely, and let his hot seed paint my soft velvety insides. Pulling out slightly, he made sure to pump the rest of his length with his fist to make sure everything was out, and inside of you.

“Stay right there beautiful..” He dropped down onto the bed, reaching over for the camera he put down earlier and held it up to your now leaking pussy, capturing all of himself leaking out of you. He slapped the camera shut and flipped over next to you. You went limp against the mattress, turning your face towards his. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and flashed you that smug smile of his.

“Well, congratulations on Employee of the Year. You definitely deserve it after a performance like that.”

[love-bucky-3000]

Date Night and Stage Lights (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Prompt: You take Bucky to see a play for his birthday

WC ~2000

Warnings: none really, fluffy boyfriend bucky, very very slight angst, some comfort ig

a.n: i wrote this quickly so the end is rushed unfortunately but it was such a cute idea that i had to write it! this is mostly just cute fluffy boyfriend bucky vibes

share and enjoy!!

You had bought the tickets before you could second guess your decision. The tickets sat safely in your purse as you rode the subway to your Brooklyn apartment- the one you shared with Bucky. The tickets were for the play “Wizard of Oz”- a movie Bucky talked about seeing when it first came out. You had been talking about the new Wicked movies when Bucky had said he really enjoyed the film, even with all the “annoying” music (his words, not yours). When you saw that the theatre had a private booth for tonight, you jumped on the chance to buy the tickets.

The winter coat you wore was suffocating in the hot subway but it was needed in the chilly March air. Finally, the subway reached your spot and you hopped off, almost skipping up the stairs into the bustling New York streets. Bucky insisted that spending a quiet day with you would be enough for his birthday and you knew he struggled with crowds, but he was getting better! Yeah, he still scanned every business he went in for threats. Yeah, he still insists you stand to his right side, leaving his metal arm free to block any incoming attacks, but you knew he was trying. Trying for you. You thought the private booth in the theatre would help calm his nerves. You hummed happily to yourself as you climbed the stairs of the apartment building. You greeted Alpine, Bucky’s fluffy feline, as you entered the apartment.

You found Bucky sitting in his reading chair that sat in the back corner of the apartment, facing the New York skyline. “Hey, baby,” he said as he stood to greet you. Bucky met you in the middle of the living room in just a couple of strides and scooped you into his arms. He hugged you tightly, peppering kissing across your cheeks. You giggled and squirmed in his arms. “Buck! Put me down, I can’t breathe!” 

He laughed and set you back on your feet but kept his hands locked behind your back. Your own arms came up and you intertwined your fingers at his neck, playing with the strands of hair that had fallen out of his low pony tail. His lips found yours and you smiled into the soft kiss. You let him kiss you for a few more moments before Alpine’s loud cry reached your ears. You pulled away with a laugh and bent down to pick her up. “I’m sorry, Appie, did I not give you enough attention when I came home?” The cat purred as you scratched under her chin then saw a fly and jumped out of your arms to get it. 

Bucky shook his head at the cat and bent down to gather your purse that had fallen when he greeted you. “Oh, wait!” He paused, his hand halfway to setting the purse on the table, as he turned his questioning eyes back to you. You had a mischievous smile on your face as you dug through your purse. “Aha!” you exclaimed as you found the two pieces of paper. You handed them to Bucky with a smile. He cocked an eyebrow at you and took them, “I said no gifts.” 

“Come onnn, Bucky. It’s your birthday! We don’t have to go, but I thought you would like it.”

Bucky kept the look of disapproval on his face as he unfolded the paper. His eyes scanned the words. Your heart was beating rapidly. Bucky remained silent, his face neutral. “It was a spur of the moment purchase. We, um, don’t have to go. Of course, it’s up to you…” You trailed off your comments, seeing no change in his face. You decided to keep quiet, letting Bucky process the gift. You awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, wishing Alpine would come back to break the tension. 

The sound of the paper being folded again broke the silence. Bucky cleared his throat before speaking. “Doll, I… don’t know what to say…” You studied his face, not seeing anger. You saw more unease. You stepped up to him and placed your hand on his bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Buck, we don’t have to go, we-” Bucky cut you off with a shake of his head. The tickets were still clinched in his hands. He opened and closed his mouth, seemingly lost for words.

“It’s just… this was the last movie I took Rebecca to before I shipped off. I haven’t seen it since.” His voice was shaky while recalling the time with his baby sister. You know he missed her dearly, along with everything to do with his old life.

“Oh, Buck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. We can do something else.” You gave his bicep another squeeze and stepped closer, bringing him into a hug. He accepted it and brought you closer, resting his cheek on the top of your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. He pulled back enough to rest his forehead against yours. “I wanna go. I just wasn’t expecting for it to bring back so many memories.” You smiled sadly up at him and gently kissed his lips. “It’s a private booth. I thought that would help stay away from the crowd,” you explained. He nodded. “That is very thoughtful. Thank you, doll.” 

“How about we get ready and get dinner before we get to the theatre?” you suggest Bucky’s favorite diner down the block from the apartment. He agreed and you both separated to get changed. As you got ready, Bucky told you how Becca loved musicals. He told you how he would pull overnight shifts at the docks to pay for tickets. Your heart equally broke at the memories and swelled at his love he had for his family. When you finished getting ready, Bucky left Alpine some food and threw her a quick “be good” which she flicked her tail at. 

On the way out the door, he gently wrapped a scarf around your neck and brought you into his side, trying to keep the wind from biting at you. You walked in step with him all the way to the diner, his cologne filling your senses. He opened the door for you and guided you to your favorite booth in the corner. As you went to sit in the booth seat opposite him, his hand reached out to gently pull you in the booth next to him. You sat down and scootched into his side and leaned up to kiss his cheek. A rosy flush crossed his face as he threw an arm over your shoulders to cuddle you in closer. He wasn’t the most comfortable with PDA, but he seemed to be in a good headspace, happy to show his appreciation for you.

“Can I get you anything different today?” The waitress, Darla, was an older woman who seemed to always be there when you and Bucky were. “Just the normal, Darla, thank you!” You said, and Darla took the order down on her notepad. 

“Actually, could you add a slice of that chocolate cake?” Bucky cut in before Darla could walk away. “Of course!” she replied and went off to drop the order at the kitchen window.

You playfully nudged Bucky with your elbow. “Sweet tooth today?” you joked. “Not as sweet as you,” Bucky replied. “That was absolutely horrible, Bucky!” you exclaimed through your laughter. He joined in on your laughing and nudged your nose with his, kissing you in the middle of a smile. You kissed back and parted shortly after, the smile remaining as you gazed up into his blue eyes. You rested your head on his shoulder and looked across his chest to the large window to his left, watching as people wandered in and out of stores. 

Bucky quietly thanked Darla as she brought your drinks but made no effort to move you from his shoulder, keeping his arm wrapped around you as his fingers drew random shapes along your upper arm. Despite the amount of people outside, the diner was nearly empty, leaving Bucky without the normal filling of dread that usually clouds him when there are unknown people coming and going. 

With the soft melody of old jazz tunes playing and the retro vibe of the diner, it wasn’t hard for Bucky to imagine what it would have been like to have you in this exact position almost 100 years earlier. He could imagine himself, the young, unbroken version, whisking you off to the dance hall after this meal. (He would have happily pulled a double shift at the docks to afford bringing you out to eat). Maybe instead of the dance hall, you would have gone with him to take Rebecca to the first showing of the play you were about to take him to. He glanced over at the empty seat on the other side of the booth, easily imagining Steve’s skinny body filling it. Bucky so desperately wished things were different, but at the same time, he would have never known you if they were. His nostalgic thoughts were interrupted with Darla bringing the plates of food by. Bucky lifted his arm as you raised up and thanked Darla. Darla gave you both a smile and left with an “Enjoy!”

Darla brought the piece of cake Bucky requested when she saw you were almost done with your burgers. You slid it closer and took the fork provided and held it up to Bucky’s mouth. His mouth stayed closed as he gave you a look that said “what the fuck are you doing”. You giggled and nudged his mouth with the fork, leaving behind a bit of frosting. You watched as Bucky went to lick it and watched as his face changed from annoyed (only playfully) to scheming. You cocked an eyebrow as he smirked. Bucky quickly leaned in and kissed your cheek, smearing the frosting there. You held back a squeal and looked at Bucky in disbelief as he laughed so hard his face was getting red. 

You joined in on the laughter as you put down the fork and reached for a napkin. Bucky took it from you as he took your chin between his thumb and index finger of his metal hand and gently wiped your cheek free of frosting with the other. He didn’t release your face once he was done, taking the time to memorize all your features. You blushed under his intense gaze. “Sorry, you’re just so cute.” You couldn’t reply as his mouth first kissed your nose then found yours again in a sweet kiss. “Come on, let's eat the cake before we’re late to the showing.” As much as you wanted to stay in your little bubble, the show was starting in just over an hour.  You and Bucky took turns with the fork, finishing the cake quickly. Bucky paid (not without fighting you all the way to the check out) and held out his elbow as you exited the dinner. You threaded your arm through his and started the walk to the theatre. 

It didn’t take long to get seated in your private booth. Bucky had unease pouring off of him despite being away from the crowd. Luckily, the seats were moveable and you pressed your chair into his and threaded your arm under his against to rest on his shoulder. He relaxed slightly and you kept your hand in his for the entire show, stroking your thumb across the back of his hand whenever you felt his tense. The play concluded and you and Bucky discussed the play all the way back to your apartment, where you were met with a very unhappy Alpine (she could see the bottom of her dry food bowl).  

[platypus-brained]

Okay so hold on, what's your opinion on "Deconstructing Doof"?

I was going to cover that episode and the newer Season 5 episodes in general but stopped because -> that post was soooo long <-

Anyways, this is a episode that I’ve seen people complain about because they wanted it to be more realistic on the actual therapy part (this is Phineas and Ferb though) and that Linda was neglecting Candace

I’m gonna be honest I’m not going to argue that Linda was being a good parent in this episode because the way the writers handled it was frustrating!!!

Candace: “I told you, my therapist is giving a talk!”

Linda: “I’m so glad you’re talking to someone about this. It’s all-”

Candace: “Come on, it’s already started!”

We’re not sure when Candace started therapy or if it was her idea or not but apparently Linda’s glad she’s talking about it with someone that’s not Stacy for a change

Anyway, what they made Linda do so she stays “oblivious” wasn’t funny if that’s what the writers were going for because I didn’t see anyone who found it anything but annoying

*Screen changes to show Candace with her eyes blacked out*

Dr. Shamai: “A teenage girl convinced that her brothers are time-traveling space voyagers who build elaborate inventions that mysteriously disappear each day.”

Linda: *rummaging through her purse* “Now where is that lip balm? What did I miss?”

Anyone else think Linda could have ADHD because she could not stay focused and would constantly get distracted. I feel like the writers could’ve had her pay attention to the presentation but not believe a word of it when the proof disappears and it wouldn’t have left the fandom as annoyed

Dr. Shamai: “Client 1 even told me her brothers are making a flying disco blimp tonight!”

Candace: “We’re gonna bust Phineas and Ferb once and for all!”

Linda: “Sorry, just ran to the bathroom. What’d I miss this time?”

Dr. Shamai: “The question at hand, is this all a delusion or could it all be true?”

Candace: “This is my moment! Woo-hoo! This is about meeeeeee!”

Linda: “Omigosh, I never realized that. Okay, bye. *takes out earbuds* Sorry, honey. Your Dad called with an antique emergency.”

Again I argued Linda is not perfect! She’s flawed and you can argue characters need flaws to be “human!” But this level of deliberate inattention was crazyyyyy

Again can we consider she might have ADHD or something? Also why did everyone’s purses fall like dominos??? Curse you, cartoon logiccc

Dr. Shamai: “My proof! Oh, my beautiful proof! What happened to my... Wait. The disco blimp! It’s real! It’s all real!”

Candace: “Yes, yes, YES!!!” *stands up and accidentally knocks over Linda’s purse*

Linda: “Oh, my things.” *causes chain reaction of everyone in the audience to drop their bags*

Then the writers think that the end where Linda and Candace hug makes up for all of that? Noooo!! No, it doesn’t! Unless we see Candace with a new better therapist in a future episode but the chances of that are slim

Linda: “Candace, perhaps we should get you a different therapist, one that won’t get dragged offstage in a public meltdown. That was a lot. Are you okay, honey?”

Candace: “Okay? Mom, I feel great! What Dr. Shamai went through just once completely broke him! I go through that every day! And look at me! I’m doing just fine!”

Linda: “Mmm, I’m so happy to hear that.” *hugs Candace*

*Candace’s eye twitches during the hug, which shows she’s not actually okay*

I use the pnf wiki transcripts to save time when I use a character’s lines in these posts and here’s what the wiki said:

(She gives Candace a hug, but Candace’s eye twitches indicating that she is not in fact fine.)

And here’s what the pnf wiki summary said:

“Linda suggests that Candace get her a different therapist, but Candace refuses as she feels great about that someone else went through what she went through. However, it might be suggested otherwise as Candace twitches her eye as she hugs her mother.”

Is Linda a good Mom in this episode?

Nope! I hate how she acted! I looked up who were the writers and to my surprise it was Olivia Olson and Martin Olson (who saw that coming?)

So is Linda a bad Mom in general?

Again that’s your opinion! But if you base your opinion mostly on this episode and ignore all the episodes that show Linda is trying (failing miserably but trying at least) then I’m kinda talking to a brick wall

Basically, do YOU think the good moments outweigh the bad?

And hasn’t your own Mom or a person in your life ever unintentionally hurt or ignored you? Especially when you were young? Do you still love them?

In conclusion, Candace and Linda are both doomed by the narrative!!!!!💥💥💥

Thanks for the ask!🩵

[sunshine-lux]

Clueless (vi.)

summary: teenagers tend to do stupid things when they're scared and in love but y/n and peter really take the cake! between arguments, football games, and parties- peter and y/n try to keep it together for their friends' sake. they're not doing a very good job at it, though.

pairings: Stark!reader x MCU!peter parker, Stark!reader x harry osborn, MCU!peter parker x gwen stacy

warnings: light swearing (i'm getting more comfy with it), one or two innuendos, underage drinking, peter being stupid, some mentions of death but it's not serious at all! f!reader. i think that's it!

word count: 12.3k!!!! double digits!!

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Y/N dropped into her seat beside Peter without saying a word. She didn’t look at him, didn’t even pretend to. Her notebook hit the desk harder than necessary, but she kept her expression neutral, jaw set tight as she stared down at the notes from yesterday’s class.

Peter sat there stiffly, pencil tapping nervously against his desk. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the fight. About what he said. About the way she slammed the car door and didn’t look back. And now she was here—so close, and yet he couldn’t feel further from her.

“Morning,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Y/N didn’t respond.

He glanced sideways at her, only to find her pretending he didn’t exist. Her expression was calm, but her foot bounced under the desk—a habit Peter knew meant she was annoyed. Or anxious. Probably both.

“Look,” he said under his breath, leaning a little toward her. “Are we gonna pretend that didn’t happen?”

Still nothing. Her eyes stayed locked on the board.

Peter sighed. “Y/N.”

She finally turned her head, eyes cold. “What do you want, Peter?”

“I just—I didn’t mean all that stuff, okay? I was pissed.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have said that stuff about Harry. Or you.”

There was a beat. And then Y/N said, “But you did say it. So…”

He winced. “I was being stupid. I know that.”

“You think I’m just throwing myself at the first guy who gives me attention,” she said, still not looking at him. “That wasn’t you being stupid. That was you being honest.”

Peter opened his mouth, then shut it again.

She gave a tight, sarcastic smile. “Thanks for that, by the way. Super empowering.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“You never do,” she cut in, finally turning to look at him fully now. Her voice was low, but sharp. “But you say things like that anyway. Like I’m supposed to be okay with it.”

Peter stared at her, thrown.

“You think I’m being dramatic?” she added, eyes narrowing slightly. “I know that look.”

“No, I—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you want from me, okay? I’m trying here.”

“Then maybe try actually trusting me,” she said. “I thought you did.”

“I do,” Peter said. “It’s not about that.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it feels exactly like that.”

The bell rang before he could respond.

Y/N stood, grabbing her bag. “Don’t worry. I won’t be bringing any more ‘weird older guys’ around your presence.”

“Y/N—”

But she was already walking out the door.

Peter stayed frozen at his desk, watching her leave, stomach twisted with guilt and something he didn’t want to name.

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MJ was walking down the hall when suddenly, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her sideways into an empty classroom.

“WOAH—”

“Shh!” Peter slammed the door behind them.

MJ blinked at him. “Nah, don’t ever do that again.”

Peter looked wildly stressed. Hair disheveled, hoodie strings uneven, backpack half-zipped. Definitely unraveling.

MJ crossed her arms. “This better be good.”

Peter ran a hand down his face. “Did Y/N and Harry walk into the café together?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Last night,” he clarified. “When she showed up after the fight. Did they meet there or did they come together?”

“...Why?”

Peter ignored the question. “Did they walk in together or not?”

MJ tilted her head. ���You really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

“I might have told Harry where to find her.”

“MJ.”

She smiled innocently. “What?”

Peter’s eyes bulged. “Why would you do that?!”

“She was upset. He asked. He showed up. I was at work!”

“You let them sit together—”

“I served them coffee. I was on the clock.”

“Okay, but that was basically their first date—”

“Oh my god.” MJ dragged a hand down her face. “Peter. Why do you even care?”

“I don’t,” he said, too fast. “I just—he’s weird. And sketchy. And a total womanizer—”

MJ blinked. “Okay. And?”

“I’m the only one being logical here! I worry about her.”

“Right. Because your concern has nothing to do with the fact that she let him hold her hand, laughed at his jokes, and maybe, just maybe, likes him.”

Peter’s jaw clenched.

MJ stepped closer. “You’re jealous. Just admit it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Peter looked away, like the floor suddenly got very interesting.

And MJ wasn’t done. Not even close.

“You’ve been doing this cat and mouse thing with Y/N for over a year, Peter. You flirt. You linger. You hover. And just when everyone thinks you’re about to grow a pair and actually say something—you backpedal. Hard.”

She didn’t even blink.

“You did it last year with Liz. Everyone thought you were gonna ask Y/N to Homecoming. Hell, I know you wanted to. And then boom—suddenly you're escorting Midtown’s It Girl to the dance like Y/N didn’t exist.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but MJ cut him off.

“And now you're doing it again with Gwen. Gluing yourself to her, acting like nothing’s wrong, dragging her along too. You don’t get to be confused and territorial and then expect everyone to wait around while you figure it out. Both of those girls are super sweet. And they don’t deserve this.”

Peter just stood there, guilt crashing over him like a wave.

MJ shook her head. “You don’t get to act like this if you’re still pretending you’re into Gwen. Either make a move or move on, Peter. But this weird emotional limbo thing you’re doing? It’s exhausting.”

She opened the door.

“Oh,” she added over her shoulder, “And if you ever drag me into a room again, I will end your life.”

Then she was gone.

Peter just stood there, heart racing, throat tight, and chest aching—because MJ was right. And that was the worst part.

As he was leaving the empty classroom, he spotted her by the lockers, shoving her books into her bag with more aggression than necessary.

He hesitated. He could still feel MJ’s words echoing in his skull, pounding like a migraine. But he couldn’t let it go like this. Not again.

“Hey,” he said, stepping beside her.

Y/N glanced at him, eyes still tired. “Hey.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Are we… okay?”

She zipped up her bag and shrugged. “I mean… I guess.”

Peter winced. “I’m sorry about what I said. About Harry. That whole thing. I didn’t mean to come off like that.”

Y/N looked at him carefully. “It wasn’t just about Harry. It was the way you said it. And the things you said to me. Like you don’t trust me and I’m just some dumb girl.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I’m so sorry. I really am. I was just—I don’t know. I was mad. And dumb. And jealous—” He cut himself off, chest tightening. “Forget that last one.”

She gave him a small look, unreadable.

Peter cleared his throat. “Can I… make it up to you?”

A beat. Then, Y/N cocked her head slightly. “You wanna walk me home?”

His face lit up, too fast. “Yes. Absolutely. I’d love to.”

Y/N almost smiled. Almost. She threw her backpack over her shoulder and nodded for him to follow. And just like that, they were walking side by side down the hall again—close, familiar, dangerously close to normal.

Peter’s heart climbed into his throat.

He had to say it.

Tell her, now. Tell her about Gwen.

“Hey, um…” he started, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. “About the game tomorrow—”

Y/N turned to look at him, eyes softening just a little.

And he faltered.

She just invited you to walk her home. She’s letting you back in. If you tell her now, she’ll be pissed again. She’ll think you lied. What if she doesn’t even care? What if it’s not a big deal? Just act like it’s still a group thing. Just play nice with Harry. Don’t ruin this.

Peter forced a smile. “You excited?”

Y/N gave a little nod. “Yeah. Kinda. Big game and all.”

Peter nudged her shoulder. “You’re gonna look cooler than half the team just sitting in the stands.”

Y/N finally smiled. “Well… duh.”

They kept walking, and for a second, it was just like old times.

But Peter felt it in his chest—that knot of guilt curling up tighter and tighter.

Because things felt good. Too good.

And he was still lying.

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The lunch table was quieter than usual.

Ned and Peter were missing—dragged off to the library for “studying,” apparently. Y/N had a hunch it was just Peter trying to avoid this exact dynamic: her, Gwen, and MJ sitting side by side.

Y/N picked at her salad while MJ scrolled through her phone. Gwen sipped her lemonade, then set her cup down and said it casually—too casually.

“So…” Gwen looked between the girls, all wide eyed innocence. “Guess who called me last night and asked me out on a date?”

Y/N looked up, half smiling, pretending she didn’t already know. “Who?”

“Peter,” Gwen said, trying not to seem too smug. “Kinda unexpected, right?”

MJ made a little noise, raising her eyebrows. “Huh.”

Gwen turned to Y/N. “I know you’ve said you two are just friends, but… I mean, you’re super close. Even at the gala, it felt like he would've rather been there with you. I don’t wanna step on your toes or anything.”

Y/N’s brain was reeling. He really didn’t tell me. After everything—after their fight, the apology, the offer to walk her home—he still didn’t tell her.

She blinked. “No, it’s… it’s fine. We’re just close. That’s all.”

Gwen gave her a soft smile. “Okay. Just wanted to be sure. You’re kind of intimidating, you know.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “Oh god. Noted.”

He asked her. He gave her the opening—asked how she felt. He never asked you. Never even hinted. And you thought…

The ache in her chest throbbed deeper. Panic, jealousy, humiliation. Something sharp, something bitter.

“Well,” Y/N said, brightening her tone like flipping a switch, “I’m bringing Harry to the game. As a date.”

MJ’s eyes snapped up.

Gwen looked surprised. “Oh my gosh, really?”

Y/N nodded, sipping her water a little too fast. “Mhm. Why not?”

In her head: Why did I say that?

Now she had to stick to it. Had to lean in. Had to play this ridiculous game Peter started.

Gwen smiled again. “That’s… kind of iconic, honestly. I think you guys are cute together.”

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, glancing down at her tray.

Across the table, she watched Gwen. Blonde hair, soft makeup, pale pink nails. She wore a flowy skirt and a sweater with little daisies on it. Her voice was calm, gentle. Everything about her said safe.

She’s everything you’re not.

Y/N wore her usual baggy jeans and boots. There was still a faint bruise on her knuckle from training with Vision last week. She’d laughed too loud in Physics. She never knew when to shut up. Gwen was soft edges; Y/N was sparks and static.

And maybe that’s why Peter chose her.

Maybe he always would.

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Peter hadn’t said much since dragging Ned in here under the pretense of “studying.”

Now they were tucked in the corner, hidden behind a stack of Bio textbooks, and Peter was chewing on the cap of his pen.

Ned finally put his book down. “Okay. Spill. What’s with the tension?”

Peter blinked at him. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. Ever sinceI told you I saw Y/N with Harry at MJ’s job you’ve been so weird. I woke up to like ten cryptic texts from you. What’s going on?”

Peter ran a hand down his face. “It’s nothing.”

“Peter.”

“…I asked Gwen out.”

Silence.

“You what?” Ned whisper-yelled. “As in, to the game? Like—a date-date?”

Peter nodded, miserable.

Ned’s jaw dropped. “For someone so smart, you can be a real idiot sometimes.”

Peter looked away. “I know.”

“No, seriously. Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Peter muttered. “Okay, I do know. It was stupid. It’s a mistake.”

Ned just stared at him, waiting.

Peter sighed. “Because it’s easier. Because I panicked. Gwen’s… Gwen’s nice. She’s cool. She’s safe.”

“Safe?” Ned echoed.

Peter nodded, quiet now. “She doesn’t make my brain stop working and my heart beat out of my chest. She’s not… her.”

Ned softened a little. “You mean Y/N.”

Peter didn’t say anything.

“She’s Y/N Stark, dude. You’ve been in love with her since summer of freshman year.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Peter said suddenly. “She’s Y/N Stark. Everyone wants her. She’s brilliant and beautiful and terrifying. She’s electric. She’s—she’s the kind of person a genie would grant you as a wish and then laugh when it turns out too good to be true.”

Ned tilted his head. “So you asked someone else out because you think she’s too good for you?”

“I think… if I let myself love her the way I want to, it wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “I know what happens to the people I love, Ned. And now I’m Spider-Man. The stakes are higher. There’s always going to be someone coming for me, and if Y/N’s with me… she’s a target.”

He looked down, eyes wet. “Even if she’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. Even if she could probably fry a supervillain with her pinky. It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t handle it. If anything ever happened to her, I—”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

Ned sat back, stunned. “Pete…”

“I’d rather be with someone who won’t stick around long enough to get hurt,” Peter said quietly. “And she’s got Harry now anyway. He’s rich, powerful, he can protect her. He’s probably what she deserves.”

Ned looked at him like he wanted to hit him. “You absolute moron.”

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The bell rang, and students poured out of the classroom, flooding the hallway with noise and chatter. Peter waited just outside the door, rocking on the balls of his feet. His backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder, and his expression was calm—hopeful, even.

He spotted her instantly, weaving through the crowd. Her face was unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside her.

Y/N didn’t respond.

Peter blinked, confused, but tried again. “You good?”

A beat. Then another.

“Sure,” she said flatly, eyes straight ahead.

He frowned. “Are you mad at me again?”

“I don’t know, Peter. Should I be?”

Peter’s brows knit together. “I—I thought we were good. I said sorry, remember? You asked me to walk you home.”

They were already nearing the main doors of the school. Peter glanced over at her again, trying to read her expression. She wouldn’t look at him.

He cleared his throat. “Y/N/N… am I still walking you home or—what’s going on?”

She stopped walking.

He paused a few steps ahead, turning back to face her. “Y/N/N?”

“Nope,” she said brightly, too brightly. “I’m going out with Harry.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“I said I’m going out with Harry,” she repeated, like it was obvious. She shrugged. “Change of plans.”

“Y/N, what?! You asked me to walk you. And now you’re just… canceling at the last second?”

By now, they were fully outside. The autumn air hit Peter like a slap, sharp and cold but nothing compared to what came next.

Y/N turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah. Because despite what you think of him, he hasn’t lied to me.”

Peter blinked. “What are you—?”

“Unlike you.” Her voice cracked a little. “God, you were just gonna pretend like nothing happened. You were gonna walk me home, sit in my room, lie to my face. And for what, Peter?”

Peter’s mouth opened, closed. “Y/N, what are you talking about—?”

“Have fun with your girlfriend, Gwen. Or whatever she is to you now.” she snapped, turning on her heel just as a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.

Harry Osborn stepped out of the driver’s seat, leaned against the door like he was posing for a magazine cover, and grinned when he saw her.

Peter watched helplessly as Y/N’s entire face lit up. Her anger melted for a moment, replaced by something warm and easy. She jogged down the steps toward Harry, who opened the car door for her with a smirk.

Before getting in, Harry glanced up—locked eyes with Peter—and gave him a lazy wave and an unmistakable wink.

Peter just stood there, rooted to the spot, mouth dry, heart pounding.

What the fuck.

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Y/N flopped backward on the couch in the Tower’s living room, letting out a dramatic sigh as she stared at the ceiling. Her boots were still on. Pepper would yell if she saw her.

Harry, lounging beside her with a controller in hand, clicked the game to pause and tilted his head.

“So,” he said casually, “what happened with your boyfriend this time?”

Y/N groaned. “Do not call him that.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry smirked, nudging her boot with his foot. “Your not-boyfriend-who-gets-way-too-upset-when-you-hang-out-with-me.”

She shot him a look. “We’re not talking about this.”

“Too late.” He stretched dramatically. “Did you two fight again? Or is he just doing that brooding in the shadows, ‘nobody understands the burden of being a nerd’ thing again?”

She exhaled through her nose. Then  she sat up.

“He lied to me,” she said.

That made Harry pause.

“He lied, like it was nothing. We talked. We were starting to feel like us again, and then I find out from Gwen that he asked her to the game as a date.” She let out a hollow laugh. “I mean, I don’t care. I do, but I shouldn’t. But I’m so tired of playing this weird game with him.”

Harry didn't immediately respond. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, watching her carefully.

“Sounds like he’s a dumbass.”

Y/N snorted.

“Seriously,” Harry said. “You? Y/N Stark? New York’s It girl? Genius-level intellect? Literal walking thunderstorm of hotness and rage? He should be writing you sonnets, not keeping secrets like he’s in some bad teen drama.”

She didn’t smile — not quite — but her lips twitched.

He leaned back, one arm lazily thrown across the back of the couch, fingers brushing the edge of her hair. “You want to hit something? We can go to the gym. Or I can teach you poker. I always cheat, though.”

“I’d shock you.”

“I’d consider it foreplay.”

She laughed for real then, and he grinned, satisfied.

They sat like that for a beat, her head tilted back, his gaze still on her.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” she said suddenly, eyes still on the ceiling.

“I didn’t ask,” Harry said simply. “But thanks for letting me know.”

She looked at him then, surprised by how soft his expression was — no cocky grin, no teasing smirk. Just... calm.

“I like the attention,” he added, shrugging. “And I like you. But I know I’m a distraction.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Harry leaned in, just slightly. “You don’t have to kiss me to prove anything, Stark. I’m already wrapped around your finger. Besides,” he smirked again, “you’d just be thinking about him anyway.”

Y/N opened her mouth, but couldn’t form a reply.

“C’mon,” he said, springing up and grabbing the controllers. “First to ten wins. Loser owes the other one a secret.”

“And if I don’t lose?”

“Then I’ll still tell you one. I’m just that generous.”

She rolled her eyes but scooted closer.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even flirty.

It was a distraction. A really good one.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The two teenagers walked side by side down the hallway toward the elevator. It was late, the lights dimmed, casting a warm glow on the floor as Y/N trailed her fingers along the wall. Harry had his hands in his pockets, still looking perfectly unbothered as usual.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today,” Y/N said, glancing up at him. “Even if you totally destroyed me in Mario Kart.”

Harry grinned. “I wouldn’t call it destruction. More like... elegant domination.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You picked Rainbow Road every time.”

“I play to win, Stark. You should know that by now.”

She smiled—finally, a real one. And then she hesitated, chewing her lip. “Okay, so... there’s one tiny thing I forgot to mention.”

Harry tilted his head. “Do tell.”

“I might’ve... sort of told my friends that you’re coming to the game with me tomorrow. As my date.”

She braced herself for whatever smug thing was about to come out of his mouth.

But Harry just burst out laughing, head thrown back like he couldn’t believe her. “Y/N Stark,” he said through a grin, “I didn’t think you had it in you to fight fire with fire like that. I see I’m rubbing off on you.”

Y/N flushed. “It’s not like that! I just—things got messy and I panicked and—”

“Relax,” he said, still smirking. “I’d be honored to be your date.”

“Fake date,” she corrected quickly, pointing a finger at him.

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fake. Real. Same difference when you’re with me.”

The elevator chimed open. Harry stepped in, then turned to face her. His eyes flicked over her face for a moment, softer now.

He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to her forehead—quick, but deliberate.

“See you tomorrow, sweet cheeks,” he murmured, the smirk tugging back at his lips.

And then the doors closed.

Y/N just stood there for a second, blinking at the elevator.

She exhaled. “Oh god,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead like she could erase the memory.

This was fine. Totally fine.

Nothing she couldn’t handle.

Right?

Y/N was still standing in front of the elevator, forehead tingling, smile tugging at her lips like it wasn’t sure if it should be there or not.

And then—

“What the hell was that?”

She jumped about a foot off the floor and spun around to see Tony standing there, coffee mug in hand, jaw on the ground.

“What?” she blinked, playing innocent.

Tony pointed dramatically at the now-closed elevator doors. “Did he just kiss your forehead? Did he just call you sweet cheeks?” He clutched his chest like he was moments from a heart attack. “What are you, a Bond girl now? Is this my life?”

Y/N groaned. “Oh my god, Dad, stop being so dramatic.”

“We’re just friends,” she added.

Tony’s eyes nearly bugged out. “You call that friendship?”

He threw his arms up and started pacing. “God, I don’t even wanna know what you do with Parker then. Jesus. My blood pressure.”

Y/N blinked. “Nothing. Oh my god.”

Tony stopped, planted his hands on his hips. “Y/N, I don’t know how I feel about this Harry Osborn situation. I know him. I was him.”

He pointed at himself with exaggerated horror. “This is what karma looks like. This is it. The universe is laughing in my face.”

“Okay, dramatic and delusional,” Y/N muttered, brushing past him.

Tony followed, still spiraling. “Sweet cheeks. He called you sweet cheeks. This is my villain origin story.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin on her face. “You’re not normal.”

“And you are grounded.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Fair.”

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Peter sat on the fire escape outside his window, knees drawn up, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like he was thirteen again and hadn’t just asked Gwen Stacy to a football game in a moment of emotional panic.

The Queens air was chilly, sharp in that way that reminded him fall was on its way. His phone sat beside him, buzzing every now and then — group chat notifications. Mostly MJ roasting Ned for eating an entire rotisserie chicken after 9pm again.

None from Y/N.

He hadn’t heard from her since earlier. Since she told him she wasn’t walking home with him anymore. Since she left with Harry.

The metal creaked softly behind him.

“Figured I’d find you out here.”

Peter didn’t turn, but he smiled a little as May climbed through the window and sat beside him, holding two mugs. She handed one to him. It was hot chocolate.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly.

May just nodded, looking out at the skyline. “Want me to guess, or are you gonna tell me?”

Peter sighed. “It’s… dumb.”

“Of course it is. You’re sixteen. Everything feels like the end of the world when you’re sixteen.”

He laughed, weakly. “I think I messed up.”

“Oh?”

“I lied to someone. Someone I care about. And now she’s mad. And she left. With someone else. Someone cooler. And richer. And taller. And probably fluent in French or something stupid like that.”

May raised an eyebrow. “So… girl problems.”

Peter looked at her. “It’s more than that.”

“Of course it is,” she said, sipping her hot chocolate.

He was quiet for a second, then said, “I asked Gwen to the game. As a date.”

May blinked. “Okay… is that not what you wanted?”

“No. I mean — yes. I mean…” He groaned and put his head in his hands. “It wasn’t supposed to be a thing. I just panicked.”

May gave him a moment.

“I like someone else,” Peter admitted. “And I’ve liked her for a long time. And she… she was finally opening up to me again. And I lied to her. I didn’t tell her I asked someone else out. I was gonna walk her home and pretend like everything was fine and—”

“And she found out.”

“Yeah.”

May didn’t say anything. Just looked at him gently over the rim of her mug.

“You already knew it was Y/N, didn’t you?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

May smiled, a little sad, a little proud. “Honey, I’ve always known it was Y/N.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“You get this look when you talk about her. You light up. Even when you’re trying not to. You talk about her like she invented air.”

Peter turned away, heat crawling up the back of his neck.

“She’s been here for Thai food nights. She’s slept in our couch. She helped me set up the Christmas lights last year, remember? You don’t just let anyone into your world like that.” May bumped his shoulder. “I don’t think you even realized it until recently.”

“I don’t deserve her,” Peter said, voice cracking. “She’s Y/N Stark. She’s smart and fearless and kind. Everyone loves her. And I’m just—”

“You’re Peter Parker,” May said, firm and soft all at once. “That’s more than enough.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared out at the city.

“I like Gwen,” he said eventually. “She’s nice. Easy to be around.”

“But she’s not Y/N.”

Peter’s throat tightened.

“I got scared,” he admitted. “Of it being real. Of finally getting everything I’ve ever wanted and��� losing it.”

May was quiet, letting him speak.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved is gone. My parents. Uncle Ben. And now I’m Spider-Man. If anything ever happened to her because of me—”

“She’s not just anyone,” May said. “You know that.”

“I do. She’s Tony Stark’s daughter. Natasha and Steve trained her. She can handle herself. But I— I don’t want her to ever have to. Not because of me.”

“You’re not protecting her by pushing her away,” May said softly. “You’re just hurting both of you.”

Peter’s voice dropped. “I think I already did.”

May placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

“You know what I think?” she asked.

Peter didn’t respond, but she continued anyway.

“I think you’re scared because you love her. And it feels big. And messy. And unfair. But that’s the good stuff, Pete. The scary, overwhelming stuff — that’s what makes it real.”

He looked down at his hot chocolate, steam still curling into the air.

“So what now?” May asked.

He was quiet, then smirked faintly. “I guess I have to play the game.”

“The football game?” she asked.

“No. The dumb teenage jealousy game.”

May snorted. “Well, at least you’re aware.”

Peter smiled a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

May reached out and ruffled his curls. “You’re gonna figure it out. Just maybe… don’t wait too long.”

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Peter dragged his feet down the crowded hallway, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder and dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept properly all week — because, well, he hadn’t.

“Dude,” Ned said beside him, trying to sound neutral but already bracing himself for emotional whiplash, “you gotta pull it together.”

Peter shot him a look. “She skipped first period, Ned. First. Period. She never skips. And she hasn’t texted me back since yesterday.”

“She’s mad.”

“I know she’s mad,” Peter hissed. “She’s never been this mad. I think she might actually kill me.”

Ned nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I’m a little scared of her, too.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, clearly spiraling. “Do you think—like, what if I pushed her too far this time?”

“I’ve never seen her like this,” Ned admitted. “Or you. Your guilt is literally eating you alive.”

“I deserve it,” Peter muttered.

Meanwhile, down the other end of the hall, MJ and Y/N were weaving through the crowd with far more confidence—though Y/N’s sunglasses were still on indoors, which MJ clocked as a clear sign of emotional war prep.

“I kinda feel bad,” Y/N muttered, tugging her sleeves over her hands. “I’ve never given him the silent treatment like this. It’s petty. I’m being petty.”

MJ scoffed. “No. You’re reacting.”

“I shouldn’t even let him get to me like this.”

“Too late,” MJ said. “Also? Ned and I are officially children of divorce. Parker’s an idiot. Did I tell you he dragged me into an empty classroom yesterday to interrogate me about your little ‘date’ with Harry?”

Y/N’s head whipped toward her. “It wasn’t a date.”

“Tell him that,” MJ said flatly.

Y/N groaned. “Ugh.”

And then, of course, fate had to be cruel: they turned a corner and came face to face with Peter and Ned in the middle of the hallway.

Peter straightened like he’d been electrocuted. “Oh—hey! Y/N! Hi.”

He was way too chirpy. His voice cracked slightly.

Y/N blinked behind her sunglasses. She could practically feel MJ smirking beside her.

“Hey,” she said, calm and collected. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

Peter tilted his head. “Yeah, weird. You, uh… missed AP Bio.”

“Did I?” Y/N blinked. “Huh. Must’ve overslept.”

Ned glanced at Peter like she’s gaslighting you and you’re letting her.

Peter tried to smile. “Right. Totally. Sleep’s important.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N said, lips twitching like she wanted to smile but wouldn’t let herself.

A beat of silence. The hallway around them buzzed and passed, but it felt like they were in their own little standoff bubble.

“So,” Peter said, scratching the back of his neck. “You ready for the game tonight?”

“Sure,” Y/N replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I mean… I won’t be alone.”

Peter’s jaw tensed. “Right. Harry.”

“Yup.”

MJ cut in before Peter could combust. “We’ll all be there. It’s gonna be great. Go Midtown football.”

Ned gave her a please look and she just smiled like a cat with a secret.

Peter looked back at Y/N. “Guess I’ll… see you there?”

Y/N gave a little nod, still unreadable behind her shades. “See you there, Parker.”

And with that, she walked past him. Peter stared after her, trying not to look like he was watching his whole life fall apart in real time.

Ned clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Man. She’s good at this.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The group hovered near the school gates, where a crowd had already started gathering to get into the football field. The fall air buzzed with excitement—music playing from somewhere, cheerleaders scattered in uniform, students rushing around with face paint and posters. Midtown was in full game-day mode.

Peter stood just a little off to the side, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, trying way too hard to look like he didn’t care. Like he wasn’t already tense. Like he hadn’t been glancing around every five seconds wondering when he would show up.

Next to him, Ned was cracking up at something Y/N had just said.

MJ raised a brow. “Okay, but you cannot talk, Stark. You’re the one who couldn’t stop laughing when you had to do the morning announcements last month.”

Y/N snorted. “You kept making faces at me.”

“I was just looking at you.”

“It was funny!”

They all burst out laughing, even Y/N—bright and easy and full of that electric spark that always surrounded her.

Peter’s eyes flicked toward her on instinct. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her eyes crinkled a little when MJ teased her. He looked away quickly, pretending to check something on his phone. He was not going to be the guy who couldn’t stop staring.

Suddenly, Gwen jogged up from across the parking lot, slightly out of breath.

“Hey!” she called, waving. “I have to go take care of some pregame stuff—cheerleader drama, don’t ask—but I’ll meet you guys at the bleachers!”

Before anyone could respond, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek.

“You look cute,” she said, flashing a bright smile before sprinting off toward the stadium entrance.

Peter blinked. Face flaming. His neck did that awkward whip thing as he turned straight to look at Y/N.

She was already looking at him.

Just for a second.

And then she looked away fast, lips tightening, eyes hardening.

He felt it in his gut.

Before he could even process it, a familiar black town car pulled up just down the curb.

Harry.

Y/N’s entire face lit up. Her eyes sparkled as she took off toward the car.

“Harrry!” she called, practically bouncing. He stepped out, grinning.

Peter watched—jaw clenched, stomach churning—as Harry pulled her into a hug, lifting her just slightly off the ground with a laugh.

“Missed me already, huh?” Harry said into her ear.

Y/N laughed, pulling back. “You’re late.”

“Traffic. Blame the masses of people who don’t know how to drive in this city.”

She tugged him toward the group. “Come meet the gang.”

“This should be fun,” he said, smirking as they walked over.

Y/N gestured. “This is Ned, MJ—you already know MJ—and– yeah Peter.”

Harry held out his hand to Ned. “Harry Osborn. Nice to meet you.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. New York royalty.”

Harry barked out a laugh. “You flatter me.”

To MJ, he offered a wink. “MJ, always a pleasure. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here with our lovely Y/N.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Please. You found your own way in the second you spotted her across the ballroom.”

Harry turned to Peter last. A beat of silence.

“I almost didn’t see you there, Parker,” he said, smiling wide. “You’re so quiet. Stop hiding, man.”

Peter’s jaw ticked.

“I’m not hiding,” he muttered.

Harry just grinned bigger.

Y/N, oblivious—or pretending to be—was already chatting with MJ and Ned again.

Peter stood frozen in place, heart pounding, already regretting everything.

The bleachers were already packed, the student section buzzing with pregame energy. Midtown’s marching band played a medley of fight songs while cheerleaders hyped the crowd near the field. The sun was dipping behind the scoreboard, casting everything in a warm, golden hue.

Ned, MJ, Y/N, and Harry had claimed a long row near the 50-yard line. Gwen hadn’t arrived yet, and Peter had lagged behind a little to grab snacks for the group. When he finally showed up, drinks and chips in hand, MJ had to scoot down, making space for him next to Ned.

So it went: Gwen’s empty seat on the end, then Peter, Ned, MJ, Y/N… and Harry.

A lineup so cursed it might’ve been coordinated by the universe just to test Peter’s will to live.

He sat down with a tight smile, handing Ned a soda and settling in. He didn’t look at Y/N. Not directly. But he was very aware of her laughing at something Harry said. She was curled into her jacket, hair flowing with the wind, and Peter could see the glint of her necklace catching the sun.

It was the one May had given her last Christmas.

He frowned.

“I don’t know what that face is,” Ned muttered to him, “but you’re scowling like she burned down your childhood home.”

Before Peter could reply, Gwen appeared— lips glossy, cheeks flushed from running.

“Hey, sorry!” she said, breathless. “Band crisis. Nothing new.”

She waved as she approached, and Harry, ever the gentleman, stood.

“Gwen,” he said with a grin, “you look lovely.”

Gwen beamed. “Thank you, Harry. And thank you for coming! I mean, having two of New York’s biggest socialites in our student section? That’s serious morale-boosting stuff.”

Peter rolled his eyes so hard it might’ve caused permanent damage.

Harry, of course, just laughed and said, “Anything for Midtown.”

Gwen squeezed past Peter, dropping into the seat beside him and flashing him a smile. “Sorry again—I had no idea the band needed a last minute flag runner.”

Peter forced a grin. “It’s fine. You made it.”

“Barely,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his. “But now I’m here with all my favorite people.”

Across Ned and MJ, Y/N shifted. Peter caught the motion and immediately glanced toward her—just in time for her to glance back at him.

They both looked away instantly.

It was the most painfully obvious game of emotional dodgeball either had ever played.     

Gwen, meanwhile, leaned forward to catch MJ and Y/N’s attention with a bright smile. “This is seriously so fun. I’ve never sat with a student section this… dramatic before.” She laughed, then added, “.”

MJ snorted. “Welcome to Midtown.”

Gwen’s eyes flicked between Harry and Y/N, then back to the girls. “By the way, Y/N, I’ve been meaning to say—your whole thing with Harry? Super cute. You always blush when someone mentions him. It’s adorable.”

Y/N blinked. “I—what?”

Gwen grinned. “No, really! I noticed it even at the gala. I totally called it. You’ve got this little spark in your eyes whenever he’s around.”

She turned to Harry with a playful nudge. “You two are kind of perfect together.”

Peter’s jaw clenched. MJ didn’t even try to hide her laugh this time.

Harry, completely unfazed, tilted his head and smiled at Y/N. “Guess we’re perfect now, huh?”

Y/N’s cheeks went red—probably from the attention, maybe from something else—but she just shrugged. “We clean up nice, that’s all.”

Across the row, Peter blinked slowly and drank half his soda in one go. Gwen turned toward him, oblivious. “Aren't they adorable?”

“Adorable,” he echoed, flat.

Meanwhile, Ned had leaned toward Harry, whispering something that made him laugh—loud and unbothered.

It was so effortless.

Peter shot Ned a glare, and Ned just raised his brows like what??

Harry leaned back against the bleachers, arms spread behind Y/N as he grinned at something on the field.

Peter could feel the heat rising in his neck. He was about to combust. He turned slightly, pretending to be interested in the coin toss, but really? He was watching the way Y/N’s eyes crinkled when she laughed. Again.

The whistle blew. The crowd erupted. Kickoff.

Midtown’s football team rushed the field, and everyone in the bleachers jumped to their feet.

Y/N and Harry were among the loudest.

“LET’S GO MIDTOWN!” Harry shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “MURDER THEM, BOYS!”

“WE CAN’T SAY MURDER THEM,” Y/N yelled, cracking up as she elbowed him. “That’s so aggressive.”

“You’re aggressive,” he shot back with a grin.

“Oh my god,” MJ muttered, already exhausted.

And then—TOUCHDOWN.

Midtown scored on the opening drive, and the crowd went feral. The drumline was going wild, cheerleaders cheered, and Harry turned to Y/N with a triumphant shout.

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, spinning her around once before setting her down, both of them laughing and red faced from the cold and the chaos.

She threw her arms around his neck in a victory hug and beamed, breathless. It was genuine. She looked happy.

Peter was watching. Of course he was watching.

He blinked once. Twice. Jaw tight.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered, practically venomous. “Not at my school.”

He turned to Gwen with a forced grin. “That was sick, right?”

Gwen, still cheering, nodded. “Such a good start!”

Peter leaned in. “Hey, come here!”

Before she could process it, he tugged her close, arms wrapping around her waist. She squeaked in surprise and laughed as he grinned down at her.

“You look really cute, by the way,” he said. “Did I tell you that?”

Gwen smiled, cheeks pink. “No but thank you.”

He laughed again, a little too loud, letting his hand linger against her back.

MJ and Ned sat frozen between them and Y/N like they’d just been teleported into the worst teen drama in history.

Ned leaned toward MJ, whispering through a fake smile, “Are we… witnessing a live custody battle?”

MJ didn’t even blink. “This is a full psychological war.”

Meanwhile, Y/N—still catching her breath from the touchdown celebration—turned and caught Peter wrapped around Gwen.

He was saying something in her ear. Gwen was laughing. Peter was laughing. His hand was on her back.

Y/N’s smile faltered.

Oh.

So he was really gonna do it, huh?

She narrowed her eyes, lips pressed into a tight line.

Fine.

If that was the game he wanted to play, she could play it better.

Y/N turned her full attention to Harry, who was mid trash talk about the other school’s quarterback, and laughed loud—like really loud. The Peter-look-at-me kind of loud.

She reached for Harry’s hand—just for a second—and he grinned like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Peter looked. Of course he looked. His eyes snapped to their hands instantly.

Game. Set. Match.

“Y/N’s definitely doing this on purpose,” MJ said through her teeth.

“Honestly– I respect it,” Ned replied.

Peter moved his arm from Gwen’s waist to drape across the back of her seat instead, his hand barely brushing her shoulder. Gwen leaned into it slightly, not thinking anything of it.

Y/N definitely noticed.

She huffed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned into Harry, letting their shoulders bump. “Okay, fine. That touchdown was kind of hot.”

“Right?” Harry said, smirking. “I didn’t know Midtown could deliver like that.”

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Peter tense up. Saw the way his jaw ticked, even if he tried to hide it by sipping his soda.

Ned took a long sip of his drink, not looking at either of them.

MJ stared straight ahead like she was pretending to be anywhere else.

The game had barely started.

And they were all already losing.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Harry Osborn had to admit—he was having an excellent time.

This wasn’t the kind of game he was used to. He’d gone to fancy prep schools, where football games were all tradition and decorum and polished school spirit. This? This was something else entirely. The bleachers were packed, the energy was unfiltered, and the drama? Chef’s kiss.

He glanced down the row—Gwen had just said something to Y/N that made her do that tiny, awkward little laugh. The one where she tilted her head and bit her lip like she was trying not to react. The one she did when she was holding something back.

Harry didn’t miss the way Peter Parker immediately looked over, watching Y/N like he might blow up at any second.

Harry smirked to himself. There it is.

He leaned back casually, one arm draped over the back of the bench behind Y/N—not touching her, but close enough to be noticed. Peter’s jaw twitched. Bingo.

Ned said something—Harry didn’t catch it—but it made him laugh out loud. Not a fake one either, a real, belly-deep laugh. The guy was funny. Quirky. Smart. He liked him.

But the best part was watching Peter and Y/N play their little game like no one could see it. It was like emotional ping pong. Y/N leaning into Harry’s shoulder while she cheered, Peter nudging Gwen a little closer and laughing at her jokes just a little too loud. Harry was pretty sure MJ had muttered “kill me now” under her breath at least twice.

“Wow,” Harry said, sipping from his water bottle. “You guys do not play around. This student section is intense.”

Y/N turned to him, eyes gleaming, flushed with excitement. “Rivalry games are chaos.”

He grinned. “I thought you were exaggerating. I stand corrected.”

When their team scored again, Y/N practically jumped out of her seat, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. He laughed and picked her up slightly, spinning her half around before setting her back down, her laughter ringing in his ears.

And yeah, sure, part of him was playing it up for Peter. Why not? If he was going to be dragged into the middle of this bizarre love triangle, he might as well enjoy the perks. But the part that surprised him was how real it felt. Y/N was so… unfiltered. Ridiculously fun. And for once, he didn’t feel like the guy on a magazine cover or the heir to anything. He felt normal. Invited.

He risked a glance down the row.

Peter was watching them again, jaw clenched. Gwen said something to him, resting her hand briefly on his arm. He nodded, distracted.

Still looking at her, Harry noted.

And for a flicker of a second, something in Harry’s chest tugged. Just a little.

He knew she wasn’t doing this for him. Not really. Every glance at Peter, every tilt of her chin—it was all part of some silent battle between the two of them. Harry was a pawn. A shiny, charming, well-dressed distraction.

But damn, wouldn’t it be nice if—for once—it wasn’t a game?

If the way she laughed, the way she lit up, the way she clung to his arm during touchdowns… if that was for him.

Still, he wasn’t bitter. Not even close.

Because if he had to play the role of the guy who got under Peter Parker’s skin—got to hold Y/N’s attention for the night, get a front row seat to this mess of unresolved tension and fireworks—he’d play it with pride.

He leaned in close to Y/N and said, “Hey, you think Peter’s gonna blow a gasket before halftime or after?”

Y/N’s grin was instant. “After. He’s trying really hard to keep it together.”

“Admirable effort,” Harry said, glancing down the row again. “But let’s make it harder.”

She laughed, bumping her shoulder into his.

And Peter Parker’s head snapped around so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash.

God, Harry loved public school.

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Halftime came in a blur of whistles and stadium noise. The marching band was setting up on the field, the snack lines were flooding, and most of the students scattered across the bleachers in search of churros or gossip. Gwen had run off again to deal with some leadership thing, ned had gone to the get more snacks, and Y/N and MJ had wandered off to the bathrooms. That left Peter and Harry… alone.

Peter didn’t mean to seek him out. He really didn’t. But there was Harry, standing a little off to the side behind the bleachers, scrolling through his phone with that stupid perfect hair and that stupid smug expression like he owned the place.

And Peter—tense, frustrated, and one glare away from combusting—walked straight over.

Harry looked up when Peter stopped in front of him.

“Well, if it isn’t loverboy,” he said lazily, slipping his phone into his coat pocket. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Cut the crap, Osborn.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Wow. We’re jumping straight to last names now. Spicy.”

Peter stepped in closer. “I don’t know what your deal is with her, but you need to back off.”

Harry blinked slowly. “Her? As in Y/N? My date?”

Peter’s jaw tightened. “You know what I mean. The flirting. The touching. It’s rude. And annoying. Have some respect, man.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning. “Pretty sure Y/N doesn’t find it rude. She likes it when I touch her.”

Peter saw red. His fists clenched, shoulders squared. It took everything in him not to deck him right then and there.

“God, I knew it,” Peter said, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t care about her. This is all just some game to you. You think she’s just another challenge, something to win.”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened just enough to show he was paying attention now.

“She deserves better than that,” Peter hissed.

And Harry—cool, collected, annoyingly unbothered Harry—just shrugged and said, “Then be better.”

Peter flinched.

Harry stepped closer, voice dropping just enough to land like a punch. “If you’re so sure she deserves more, then go be it. Otherwise… maybe step aside and let someone who actually sees her have a shot.”

Peter stared at him, jaw clenched, breath tight in his chest. Because deep down, Harry wasn’t wrong. That’s what made it worse.

“She doesn’t even like you,” Peter snapped.

Harry raised both eyebrows, grinning again. “You sure about that?”

Before Peter could respond, the sound of Y/N’s laugh rang out from behind them. Both boys turned—she was heading back with MJ, clutching a bag of popcorn and smiling like nothing had happened. She looked happy. At ease.

She saw them and slowed slightly, sensing the tension. Her eyes flicked between them.

Peter took a step back like he hadn’t just threatened to commit murder. Harry threw an arm casually around Peter’s shoulder, smirking as he leaned in to whisper.

“Relax, Parker. I’m just playing the part you walked away from.”

Then he clapped Peter on the back and walked off toward Y/N without looking back.

Peter stood frozen, fists still tight at his sides, heart pounding in his ears.

He had no idea what was happening anymore.

But he knew one thing—he was losing her.

The second half of the game kicked off, but Peter might as well have been watching static.

His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, his knees bouncing restlessly under the bleachers bench, eyes fixed on the field—but not really. He could barely follow what was happening. Every cheer that erupted next to him sent a fresh stab through his chest.

Especially when they were her cheers.

Y/N was laughing again—loud, beautiful, effortless—as Harry leaned in to say something only she could hear. Peter didn’t catch the words, but the way she tossed her head back, mouth open in a smile that made his stomach twist? Yeah. He caught that.

A week ago, she would’ve laughed along to his jokes like that.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to play it cool, phone out, scrolling through nothing. His leg was still bouncing. His mind, a mess.

He wasn’t trying to show off anymore. Wasn’t laughing with Gwen. Wasn’t trying to “win.”

Because he wasn’t winning. Not anymore.

He was losing. Badly.

Gwen glanced over. “You okay?”

Peter looked up, blinking. “Yeah. Just… tired, I guess.”

She frowned a little. “Too tired to go to Flash’s after party?”

Peter turned to her, confused. “Flash is throwing a party?”

“Victory party,” Gwen said with a little shrug. “I know you don’t like him, but he promised me he wouldn’t mess with you or Ned tonight.”

Ned perked up instantly from beside MJ. “Wait, what about me?”

Gwen leaned forward to look at him. “I was saying we all got invited to Flash’s party.”

“Oh sick!” Ned grinned. “We should go! I’ve heard rivalry game parties are legendary.”

That’s when Y/N chimed in, glancing up from her conversation with Harry. “Go where?”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Flash’s party. Gwen’s dragging us.”

Harry leaned forward behind Y/N, slinging an arm across the back of her seat. “That’s a great idea actually. My first public school party. Can’t deny me that honor, right?”

Gwen beamed. “Exactly!!”

Then she turned to Peter again, all soft smiles and hopeful eyes. “Please come with us? It’ll be fun.”

Peter’s eyes flicked to Y/N. She wasn’t even looking at him. She was twirling a strand of her hair, laughing at something Harry said. So easy. So gone.

He looked back at Gwen. “Yeah. Okay. Fine.”

Because he couldn’t let her go to that party alone.

And definitely not with Harry Osborn.

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Midtown won.

Which meant Flash’s house was packed.

There were lights strung up along the front porch, music booming so loud the floorboards seemed to vibrate. People were already spilling out onto the lawn. Somewhere deep inside, someone was cheering about a keg stand.

“Okay, ground rules,” Harry said casually as the group approached the front steps, his voice light but his eyes glancing toward Y/N. “You’re allowed to drink.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How generous.”

“But I won’t,” Harry continued. “Because I am your responsible designated driver. I’d rather not get yelled at by Iron Man or arrested by Captain Stacy.”

“A gentleman and a self-preservation king,” MJ muttered approvingly.

Behind them, Peter rolled his eyes so hard it might’ve caused a migraine. Gwen’s fingers were laced through his—warm, soft, safe—but his attention was locked on the way Harry placed a guiding hand on Y/N’s lower back as they stepped inside.

The bass dropped. The crowd screamed. Flash’s parties were just as obnoxious as Peter thought they’d be.

Harry turned to Y/N with a lazy grin. “Any drinks for the princess?”

Y/N giggled. “Sure. Surprise me, Osborn.”

Harry smirked like it was a personal challenge. “That’s my specialty.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Y/N and MJ followed after, slipping through the crowd like they weren’t causing complete chaos just by existing.

Peter was still standing near the door when Ned elbowed him in the ribs.

“Bro,” Ned hissed. “This is it. This is the place to let loose and tell a certain someone how you really feel.”

Peter gave him a look. “We are at Flash’s house. This is, like, the least romantic location of all time.”

“So? Romance thrives in adversity. That’s a fact. Shakespeare probably said that.”

Peter groaned. “I’ve never even drank before. I don’t know how this stuff works.”

Ned shrugged. “You’ve heard of liquor courage.”

Peter hesitated. His eyes followed Y/N as she threw her head back laughing—laughing at something Harry said as he handed her a drink in a red solo cup.

Liquor courage. Maybe it was exactly what he needed.

“I’ll be back,” Gwen said suddenly, tugging Peter’s hand to get his attention. “One of my friends just got here. I’ll come find you in a bit, okay?”

She kissed his cheek, gave him a little wave, and vanished into the crowd.

Peter turned to Ned.

“Okay,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Let’s find some bad decisions.”

The party was in full swing.

Music throbbed through the walls, bodies pressed together in the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room, red cups littered every flat surface. Somewhere in the chaos, someone was singing into a hairbrush and Flash was shouting about being the MVP of life.

Y/N had lost count of how many drinks she’d had. She wasn’t drunk—not really. Just… floaty. Everything was a little fuzzy at the edges. Her cheeks were warm. She laughed at everything Harry said, let MJ spin her around in the kitchen, danced like no one was watching even though everyone was.

But Peter was.

From across the room, Peter sipped something that tasted like gasoline and stared.

She was glowing.

Y/N Stark in a crowded room was like a magnet—people were drawn to her without even realizing it. He hated that Harry got to be close enough to make her laugh. He hated that she wasn’t looking at him.

Until she was.

Their eyes met.

And then Gwen pressed up beside him, giggling, and kissed his cheek. “You’re so warm,” she murmured, unaware—or pretending not to see—how Peter went rigid.

Y/N saw.

Her smile faltered. Just for a second.

Then she turned, said something quick to MJ and Harry, and slipped out of the room.

Peter didn’t even think.

He shoved his cup into Ned’s hands and followed her.

Upstairs, the hallway was quiet. The music was muffled now, just a bassline vibrating through the floor. He spotted the open balcony doors and walked toward them, heart hammering.

She was leaning against the railing, her drink dangling from her fingers, face tipped up toward the stars.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/N turned, and her expression flickered when she saw him. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs? With your date?”

Peter sighed. “I saw you leave.”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.”

“Y/N…”

She shook her head, lips pressed tight. “Why are we fighting so much?” Her voice cracked slightly. “We’ve never fought like this before.”

Peter moved closer. Close enough that he could smell her perfume—faint and electric, like the air before a thunderstorm.

“I think you know why,” he said.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t. I really don’t.”

He reached out, gently took her cup from her hand and set it on the balcony ledge.

“I hate this feeling,” Y/N admitted. “I hate fighting with you. More than anything.”

“I know,” Peter said. “So do I.”

She sniffed and gave a tiny laugh, eyes flicking up to his face. “Your cheeks are so flushed. I’ve never seen you drunk before.”

Peter cracked a grin, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Says you! You’re starting to slur your words a little.”

“Am not,” she said, grinning.

“Are too.”

They both laughed—real and easy—and for a moment, it was just them again. No drama. No fights. Just Peter and Y/N under the stars, making each other smile.

Then the quiet slipped in again.

Y/N’s voice dropped. “We’re not normal anymore.”

Peter’s heart twisted. “No,” he said. “We’re not.”

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Peter looked at her like it physically hurt him to say the next words. “So did I,” he said, barely above a breath. “So bad.”

Their eyes locked. Her gaze drifted to his lips. His followed.

They leaned in.

Almost.

Almost.

But then—he stopped. Just barely pulled back.

“We can’t mess this up.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He swallowed. “We can’t. Not this. Not us.”

“You were about to kiss me…” she said, voice thick with disbelief.

“I know.”

“God, Peter, would it really fucking kill you if we kissed?!”

He flinched, like the words physically struck him. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I—” But he didn’t finish. Couldn’t.

Y/N stepped back, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Y/N/N—”

“I hate you,” she spat, but it came out sounding heartbreakingly soft.

And then she turned and left him standing there.

Peter stayed frozen, the cold wind biting at his face as the door clicked shut behind her.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t say a word.

“…Shit.”

Y/N descended the stairs with shaky breath and a glassy look in her eyes. Her lips were still tingling. Her heart was still racing—but not in the soft, glowing kind of way. This felt like something was tearing inside her. Something that had been holding out hope for way too long.

She spotted MJ and Harry across the room near the kitchen. MJ was absolutely roasting some jock who had worn flip flops to the party, and Harry was doubled over laughing, clutching his drink like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Y/N blinked, dazed, and slipped between partygoers to rejoin them. She forced a smile, tucked herself under Harry’s arm, and laughed along.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room—

Peter stood against the wall, eyes wide, breathing hard.

“Bro,” Ned said quietly, “you look like you just watched someone get murdered.”

Peter turned to him, frantic. “I had her. Ned, I had her. And then I let her walk away. What is wrong with me?! Put me out of my misery.”

Before Ned could respond, Peter’s head snapped up.

Because across the room, Y/N locked eyes with him.

Her expression was unreadable.

And then something shifted.

Something snapped.

Before he could even process it, Y/N turned, grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt, and kissed him.

Full-on. Deep. Desperate.

MJ froze mid sentence, blinked, then slowly stepped away, muttering under her breath, “Okayyyy,” with a little laugh as she disappeared into the crowd.

Peter’s heart dropped. No, it plummeted.

He couldn’t breathe.

Then, Gwen appeared beside him.

“Oh—there you are,” she said with a bright smile, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He blinked, staring at Y/N across the room. Still kissing Harry. Still not looking away.

So Peter did the only thing he could think of.

He wrapped an arm around Gwen and pulled her closer. “Dance with me,” he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow, but followed him to the makeshift dancefloor.

And just like that, Peter was touching Gwen’s waist, spinning her, saying anything and everything to make her laugh—and it worked. She giggled, cheeks flushed. But then—

She looked up.

Across the room.

At Y/N and Harry.

Still kissing.

Still pressed together.

And then she looked back at Peter.

At the way his eyes kept flicking toward Y/N when he thought no one noticed. At how forced his smile was. At how his hand tensed against her waist like he was holding onto something that was already gone.

Gwen understood.

Deep down, she always had.

But now, it was undeniable. This wasn’t real. She was a stand-in. A band-aid. A safe choice.

And even though it hurt—god, it hurt—she was going to let him pretend. Just for tonight. Because sometimes it was enough to feel chosen, even if it wasn’t forever.

Back on the other side of the room, Y/N finally broke the kiss.

She was breathing heavy, heart pounding, but her eyes were locked on Peter.

Still dancing. Still whispering.

Still trying to pretend it didn’t wreck him to see her like this.

So she turned to Harry, wild and impulsive and a little drunk, and said, “Wanna get out of here?”

Harry blinked. “Right now?”

She smirked. “Not like that. Just… upstairs. Somewhere quieter.”

Harry, to his credit, caught the glint in her eye. The pain she was trying to bury. The performance she was committed to. But he still said, “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Y/N grabbed his hand and made sure—made absolutely sure—that Peter saw her as they climbed the stairs together.

She knew exactly what it looked like.

She wanted him to know.

She wanted it to hurt.

Peter’s jaw clenched. His entire body stilled. Gwen's voice became muffled, the music drowned under the sound of blood rushing to his ears. He watched as Y/N disappeared upstairs with Harry, hand in hand, laughing.

He had no idea if she meant it.

No idea if it was real.

But the damage was done.

And Peter Parker was spiraling.

Hard.

Y/N stumbled through the doorway with Harry behind her, his hand loosely on her back to make sure she didn’t trip. The music from downstairs thumped through the floor, muffled now, as the door clicked shut behind them.

Harry locked it.

Not for that reason—but because he didn’t want anyone barging in. Not when she looked like this. Not when she was shaking, chest rising and falling like her emotions were stuck somewhere between rage and heartbreak.

There was a bed—typical teenage boy's room, probably Flash’s older brother’s—and Y/N collapsed on it like her bones had given out. Harry stayed standing for a moment, watching her. He’d seen this kind of sadness before.

But not in her.

And not like this.

He slowly sat down beside her.

“Hey,” he said gently, “You okay?”

Without a word—without hesitation—Y/N turned and kissed him again.

It wasn’t like the one downstairs. That one had heat, electricity, defiance.

This one was sad.

Desperate. In a bad way.

Harry pulled back, blinking. “Whoa. Hey, hey,” he said softly, cupping her shoulders. “Maybe not like this.”

Y/N’s face fell. Her bottom lip trembled. “So you don’t like me either?”

“What—?”

“You don’t wanna have a super hot makeout with me?” she sniffled, eyes glassy. “That’s fine. Totally fine. I get it.”

Harry couldn’t help it. He let out a breath of a laugh. “I never said all that.”

Y/N blinked.

He smiled a little, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I just said I’m not doing this while you’re drunk, Y/N/N. It wouldn’t be right. And you know it.”

Then—boop.

He gently tapped her nose.

She pouted.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he added. “I entertained your little act downstairs, but we’re not doing that here, sweetheart.”

That’s when her eyes started to fill again. Real tears now. Her voice cracked.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Harry. Please don’t be mad. I’m an idiot. I made it weird. You probably hate me. I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I—”

“Stop it,” he said, firm but warm. “Stop. Breathe.”

She hiccuped.

Harry reached for a tissue box on the nightstand and handed her a few. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. You didn’t scare me off. I don’t hate you.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, miserably quiet.

Harry looked at her like she was a puzzle he was still figuring out. Like he could see through every layer.

“Y/N/N,” he said, “any guy would be lucky to be with you. You’re smart, you’re terrifying, you’re hotter than sin—”

She let out a wet snort at that.

“—and anyone who rejects you is either an idiot,” he continued, “or just not the guy. That’s not on you.”

Y/N looked down at her lap, voice small. “I really thought he was the guy.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I kinda thought he was too. For what it’s worth.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Harry stood. “Come on. Let’s get you sobered up a bit. I’ll grab you some water, maybe a piece of that sad pizza I saw in the kitchen.”

“You’re not taking me home yet?” she asked, wiping at her cheeks again.

He grinned. “Can’t have you like this in front of Iron Man. I like being alive.”

She let out a half-laugh, half-sob, nodding.

Harry turned to the door, then paused.

“Hey,” he added, looking back. “You’re not alone. Okay?”

Y/N looked at him, vulnerable and messy and aching.

She nodded again.

And for the first time that night, she actually believed it.

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Harry helps Y/N into the passenger seat of his sleek black car, buckling her in like the gentleman he is. She’s tipsy, not drunk anymore, just quiet. Worn out.

MJ stands on the curb with Ned, both watching.

“You got her?” MJ asks, voice soft.

Harry nods. “Yeah. I’ll get her home safe.”

“My dad’s coming to pick us up, so don’t worry about us,” she adds. Then smirks. “Peter and Gwen left a while ago.”

Harry glances over, unreadable. “Right.”

“Thanks for looking out for her.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

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Y/N sinks onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Her heels are dangling off her feet, and her eyes are glazed from more than just exhaustion.

Harry crouches in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees.

“You’ll call me if you need anything, yeah?” he says. “I’m the hangover king. Got all the tricks.”

Y/N gives a weak smile. “I will. Thank you. For tonight. And… for everything.”

He waves her off with that same effortless grin. “Please. You think I’m passing up the opportunity to be your knight in designer armor?”

She laughs.

He stands and starts walking to the elevator, turning back at the last second. “Hey, Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be okay. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

And then he’s gone.

The tower is quiet. Everyone’s asleep.

Y/N pads barefoot into the lab, still in her day clothes, makeup a little smudged. Tony was hunched over one of his holographic schematics, coffee in one hand, a wrench in the other. Music played softly in the background, FRIDAY dimming the lights to match the late hour.

He paused, hearing footsteps pacing just outside the lab. Back and forth. Back and forth.

He sighed.

“Y/N,” he called without looking up. “If you’re trying to wear a hole in the floor, congrats, you’re close. Just get in here.”

A beat.

Then: the door slid open and Y/N stepped inside, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Tony turned around and studied her. “You look like hell, honey.”

She let out a dramatic groan and flopped onto the nearest chair, legs tucked under her. “I think I’m having a breakdown.”

Tony set the wrench down. “Is this a ‘there’s a villain loose in Manhattan’ breakdown or a ‘someone broke my heart and I want ice cream and an alibi’ breakdown?”

“Neither. Both. Ugh, I don’t know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued.”

Y/N leaned forward, dropping her face into her hands. “Okay, so… hypothetically—hypothetically—what would you say if I told you I liked a guy who doesn’t like me back?”

Tony’s smirk vanished. “I’d say… he has garbage taste.”

Y/N snorted, but it was watery, her eyes getting glossy again. “Dad—”

“No, I’m serious. Who is this kid? You’re smart, you’re kind, you’ve got a face that belongs on the cover of Vanity Fair and hands that can fry an entire Hydra base. What’s not to like?”

“Apparently a lot,” she muttered.

Tony rolled his chair closer, softer now. “You wanna talk about it?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “It’s Peter.”

Tony blinked. “Our Peter? Peter Parker?”

She nodded again.

Tony leaned back, sighing. “I mean… I did kind of see that one coming.”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

He gave her a look. “Sweetheart. I have functioning eyes. You light up like a Christmas tree around him. And I’ve caught the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention.”

She frowned. “You think he likes me?”

“I think he’s either madly in love with you or incredibly confused by the fact that he’s madly in love with you.”

That made her smile. Barely.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Lately it’s like… he’s always with Gwen. And she’s so pretty and confident and sweet and she says things like ‘Peter, you’re amazing’ and he glows.”

Tony frowned. “Y/N…”

“And I know it sounds dumb but sometimes I feel like I’m too much. Like I’ve got all this… noise inside me. And maybe he likes the quiet. Maybe I scare him.”

Tony’s face softened completely.

He stood, walked over, and knelt in front of her. Hands on her knees.

“Y/N Stark,” he said, voice low, “you are the best thing I’ve ever built. You hear me? You’re brilliant. Brave. Ridiculous. And so full of life that any guy who can’t see how lucky he’d be to love you — isn’t worth your time.”

Her eyes watered. “Even if that guy is Peter?”

He sighed, then smiled. “Look, I love the kid. Really. But if he ever makes you feel like less than you are… well, let’s just say I know a guy who can launch him into space.”

She laughed. A sniffle, a wipe of her cheek.

Then her voice turned quiet again.

“There was a moment tonight,” she said. “On the balcony. It was just us. And he looked at me like—god, like I was the only thing that existed.”

Tony didn’t say a word. Just listened.

“We were about to kiss,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “I know he was going to kiss me. And then he didn’t. He pulled away. Said we couldn’t mess this up.”

Tony’s expression dropped. His jaw tightened.

“And I—I get it, maybe. But it felt like this final confirmation that he’s never going to choose me. He had the chance. And he didn’t take it.”

Tony exhaled slowly, rubbing his hand over his face. “My baby…”

Y/N let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I told him I hated him.”

“You don’t.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But it hurt. It really, really hurt.”

Tony nodded, sitting beside her now, pulling her close. “Then cry it out. You’re allowed to cry. Doesn’t make you weak.”

She leaned into him, cheek against his shoulder.

“I just wanted him to want me. Just once. Not Gwen. Not Liz. Me.”

Tony kissed the top of her head. “He’s an idiot.”

She smiled into his shirt. “You’re just saying that.”

“No. I’m saying that because I built an Iron Man suit in a cave with a box of scraps and even I wouldn’t be dumb enough to reject you.”

Y/N snorted.

Tony grinned. “C’mon. You want some ice cream?”

“Always.”

“And hey,” he added as they walked out of the lab, “for the record? You’re the most beautiful girl in the city. Possibly the planet. You make Gwen Stacy look like a warm up act.”

“Dad!”

“Just saying. Someone’s gotta hype you up. Might as well be me.”

And as Y/N leaned into his side, finally letting some of that ache bleed out into safety — she thought maybe being a Stark didn’t mean she had to carry it all on her own.

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taglist: @f2lix @the-faceless-bride @lovely-foxes-exe @uhmellamoanna @gyus-lvr @aomi04 @liaverse37 @pettypeety @pleasingregulus @theyluvmesblog @sqfewrd @ultrunning @boomitsallie1

author's note: i'm evil laughing behind my screen rn. guys i'm so tempted to lose the plot and let y/n and harry become a thing BUT NO! we simply cannot let that happen. i'm trying to plant the seed for something but idk if you guys will catch on...

when i was writing the party scene all i could hear in my head was "party on u party on u party on party on u" LMAO

i've decided the official y/n x harry songs are bad for business by sabrina carpenter and perfect by one direction. which btw, can be found on the official clueless playlist!

[overbaked-tkls]

Hello, I hope you're having a good day.

If possible, could we have Lee!Taph and Ler! Builderman? I find Taph's admiration for him kinda cute ^^

If you don't want to or can't do this, that's fine. I appreciate you taking the time to read it.

sorry for the posting gap! had to do finals and i wasn't feeing well for a bit. anyways 🔥

also sorry this is a bit shorter, still getting back into the rhythm of things

(this is a sfw tickle fic! if you don't like it don't read it)

"At least look at me, would’ja?"

words: 1,806

ler!builderman, lee!taph

summary: taph thinks he can back out of a social interaction. facepalms

--

Frequent little waves, glances in between rounds. Bulderman either quietly returned them or smiled in response, but only for a while. At first, he thought Taph needed his help with something, but every time he fully took his attention off his typical intermission tasks to approach the demolitionist, Taph would back away or quickly turn. Then it switched, halfway through the day. The architect became too busy to bother returning any gestures, and when Taph approached him, he’d get dismissively shooed off.

Once the hard-hatted support finally found the time– which ended up being sometime after the rounds were over and he finished helping Shedletsky with something– he met the other support upstairs.

“Ay, Taph. What’s goin’ on today, huh? You need somethin’?”

Taph looked to each side of Builder, shaking his head after a moment.

“Well, you been wavin’ at me.”

The demolitionist hesitantly raised his hands. ‘Just saying hi.’ To be fair, it was a half-truth. Taph didn’t exactly know why, but even the smallest interaction with the other sparked admiration from him. He wished Builder would approach him more, maybe pay more attention to him. But it really didn't help Taph that just being in the other's presence made him nervous, a lot more than he’d like to admit. Hence, he’d initiate interactions only to quickly regret them and retreat.

“Just sayin’ hi…” Builderman echoed, skeptically. “And yer’ sure you don’t need anythin’?” In addition, he gave a friendly, yet questioning smile. It wasn’t that he thought Taph was lying to him, but the demolitionist was always so quiet about his problems, so it came naturally to ask twice or thrice. While waiting for an answer, Builderman moved his head under the lighting to try and see Taph’s face under the shade of his hood.

‘Completely sure.’ He signed the confirmation with a definitive energy in his hands, but it came from a rushed, nervous panic underneath. It was also a little shaky, so… Not super believable. 

“... uh huh.”

Taph looked down, and his dark face wings shyly folded over to hide anything not already covered by his mask and hood. It was one thing to feel guilty about misleading someone; it was another to be caught for it.

Builderman raised his eyebrows at the sight, before scoffing. “Oh come on, at least look at me, would’ja? You’ve clearly been wantin’ to talk. I really don’ mind, y’know.” It was especially annoying for him when his admins and others would use their wings in this manner. He’d gone over the same rule with any winged person working for him– they’re not hiding spots, weapons, or tools used to escape scolding. Well, the last one was more for that damned avian swordfighter friend of his, but nonetheless. The point still stands, and if anything Taph had just turned more away, signing closer and closer to his chest.

Taph believed Builder was very considerate to him, but sometimes the trapper couldn’t decide between struggling to express his gratitude or questioning if he was just being delusional. 

‘I’m fine.’

The architect’s frown turned into a flat expression as his lips pressed together. “Great to hear, but it would seem more believable if you weren’t hidin’ from me.” He reached out, trying to gently pry one of Taph’s wings away from his face. 

Originally the demolitionist planned on letting him, but the second he saw Builder’s eyes again, the hard-hatted support’s force on the feathered appendage wasn’t enough to stop the demolitionist from stubbornly keeping it there.

A long, disappointed exhale escaped the sentry-maker. “... Taph. Help me out ere’.” Builderman waited for the amount of time it took to take his hat off, tidy the grey hair on his head, and put the hat back on for the other to listen.

Maybe, Taph thought, if he just waited long enough, Builder would leave. But the trapper hadn’t spent long enough periods of time with him to know how incredibly tenacious he was when he actually wanted something. So safe to say, Taph was pretty startled when he felt a few fingers brush across the backside of one wing.

Despite almost instantly flinching his head away, the action persistently continued as Builder gently held his now twitching wing in place. He wasn’t exactly used to having other people touch them, not that he disliked it– but it was for the same reason he didn’t let anyone preen his wings that he was attempting to move away from the architect at the moment. They were… Sensitive.

The hard-hatted support was barely feeling across them, honestly closer to petting than anything else. But it was with just enough quickness and unpredictability to hopefully coax Taph into flinching the black feathery veils to his face open.  “Y’know, I’ve always let’cha get away with these things. Both metaphorically and literally. But I do haf’ta admit it's a little irritatin’ to pause my work for you, just to get ditched and ignored.” Not that I believe you do it on purpose.

A tentative smile crept up Taph's face, but even then he couldn't understand the nature of this. Friendly? Scolding? Both? And how was he supposed to deal with it? Unintentionally ignoring the complaint in favor of temporarily escaping whatever this was, Taph messily signed back. 

Builder assumed the message to be ‘What are you doing?’, but the demolitionist’s hand seized up halfway through pointing at him, and Taph's arms looked to him like how frantic slurring sounds. He ended up only smiling in response, chuckling as each trace over the soft bend of one jet black wing earned its own startled twitch. 

Creating the demolitionists was something he found himself regretting more often than not, but the sight of them was something honorable. A symbol of creativity just as much as destruction. It was an art, and he couldn't pretend he wasn't interested when Taph would ramble about bombs and explosions, his excitement on the topic louder than the motion of his hands. Parts had to come from somewhere, after all.

In any case, it was a silly rhetorical question– Maybe Taph meant ‘why’ instead. “Well, why dont'cha take a guess, Taph? After all, I am givin’ ya my undivided attention at the moment. You should gimme yers’. Y'know, by at least lookin’ at me.”

Taph shakily raised his hands up from his front, clearly having half the mind to get Builderman off of him. But the other support in question pushed his hands back down before the thought could go full swing. 

The action seemed strangely less like restraining, and more like a reassurance.

���Taph. Please.” The architect gave an unamused, amused look, even though who he directed it at was still too stubborn to see it. The same way he looked at anyone that was endearing enough to be annoying, for the lack of a better description. Stretching two fingers from the end of one wing to as far as he could reach to the base, he considered what would ‘convince’ the demolitionist. 

The inner feathers are the worst, right? 

“Ah. Taph, if I may…” Builder reached just a little bit into the other's hood, and let it rest there for a beat. Despite the pause given, Taph went completely unmoving.

And then the architect decided to re-familiarize himself with what preened scapular feathers feel like by running a couple curled fingers though the small area. Soft. Well, that's what it felt like to him. If Shedletsky writhing away from him whenever he preened there had taught him anything, that definitely tickled for Taph.

As evidence, the demolitionist nearly hurt himself jolting his head back into the log wall he was leaning on a couple minutes prior. Builder suddenly felt grateful for having a preventive mindset, since he had habitually put his free hand behind Taph's head in advance.

“Oh, now wer’ talkin’.” He meant it both literally and as the idiom, but Builderman could only assume the other was signing to him somewhere within the arm flailing. Even in normal circumstances, Taph could be unintelligible with his hand signals; his already jumbled attempts at communicating had just started becoming even less comprehensive. The only thing he could recognize was ‘wait’ and his sign name.

And then he got what he was waiting for; Taph's wings flexed and shuddered away from his face at the touch. It was like opening like a dark curtain, except it let in no light– the demolitionist's expression was still mostly hidden by the shadow of the hood. But at least Builder could glimpse his face, occasionally catching the white of the other's eyes when they opened. He paused the motion on the inner feathers, just for a moment.

“There ya’ are. So, now that wer’ here, tell me . . .” 

He said something after that, but Taph was too busy looking in shock. He didn't realize Builder could have an expression like that, especially towards him. The way something more personal was painted on his face, deeper than the typical friendliness that came with teamwork, or after fulfilling a survivor's request during a round. 

But that thought was cut short, the same unpredictable, giddy feeling spreading throughout the entire structure of one wing and slightly down his neck.

Builder ran his thumb over the front of his wing instead of the back. It was no wonder Taph prefered to preen the things himself, they were deathly sensitive. “Yer’ really finding every possible way to avoid talkin’ to me, huh?”

Taph vigorously shook his head, half because ‘no’ was his answer, and half because just shifting his wings wasn't cutting it.

“Okay, okay.” With a laugh, the grey support removed his hands. If Taph was just going to shake him off, that was it. He wasn't about to hold him in place if it could accidentally hurt him.

The demolitionist’s wings almost folded over again by habit, but they stopped as he just opted to put his face in his hands.

“Y'know, your wings are…” Builderman grinned, choosing to rephrase. “It's a shame you don’t let people touch em’ too often, they’re real soft.” Of course, it wasn’t really. Nothing touching the feathery appendages was probably the reason they looked and felt so well cared for, anyway. “Don’t uh… don’t tell Shed, but.” Chuckling in between sentences, he subtly reached out again and undid any disorder he had caused to the feathers on Taph’s wings. “I’ve never seen his even half as nice, if m’ bein’ honest.”

‘Won’t tell him’

“Ah, too kind of ya.” Builder brought his hands back to himself as he watched the demolitionist’s sign language become less frantic. “Say, did’ja actually need something from me?” 

Taph hesitated before responding. He should have just said it earlier, but he didn't regret not doing so. 

‘I actually was just saying hi’

It didn't surprise the other support. “... Just shy, then?”

Taph turned his head off to the side. Although Builderman couldn't see it, he knew the demolitionist was smiling.

[cardiohiphopgroovesitisthen]

A hint of a spark?

Eddie x human fic

Angst, slow burn 🔥

Part 1

You show up for your second day of rewiring the club with Eddie. For the most part, your jobs are anything that can be fixed with the “righty-tighty, lefty-loosey” rule. Everything else is left to him. This makes you wonder why he’s crowding your work space. He has splicing and shrink wrapping and whatever else to do and yet here he is, ‘supervising’ so close you can hear the energy in his veins thrum.

“Can you please-?”, you say, hands lightly shooing him away.

“What?” He doesn’t flinch, he just stands there with his thumbs in his belt loops.

“I know how to do this. Okay, you gave me the simplest tasks in the bar for a reason, right? I’m helping so that we get this done twice as fast and it’s a wasted effort if there’s still only one person working at a time in here.”

He seems confused at first by your tone. But then he shakes himself into his normal dispassionate demeanor. “You insisted on being here. All right? You don’t get to dictate how things go in a place that you had to ask permission to be in.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re trying to argue with me.”

“Oh my god would you just go do some work? It makes me feel fucking stupid that you’re looking over my shoulder making sure I screw in light bulbs the right way.”

Eddie doesn’t respond right away. For a moment, there’s a shimmer in his eye or a twitch that you can’t place but then it returns to the steely gaze that frustrates you to your core. “Well maybe I-“

“Yes! I get it! I screwed in lightbulbs wrong one time! You asked me to do something really simple and I got it wrong. Okay, I’m sorry. I just… I was distracted.”

“Okay look, you don’t have to apologize..”

“No, it’s just… I’m focused now. I’m not going to make more trouble than I fix. I’m helping you. I’m going to help you...”

“Oookay, come here.” Eddie goes and leans an elbow against the bar, his shaggy locks reflecting the dim light, eyes cloaked in darkness except for the hint of gleam when the lights flicker.

“I’m busy.”

“I don’t look busy? Come here.” There’s a sturdiness in his voice that demands your attention, but also a hint of something else, something softer that’s even harder to ignore.

You get up from the floor and leave your screwdriver next to the lighting mount that you were installing. You walk right up to Eddie, hoping in vain that he might avert his gaze or step away from you. When you’re close enough to see the copper in his eyes, you try to put on your best defiant face and look unbothered, but you quickly lose your nerve. For a couple of seconds, he seems to study you, amusement and something else in his face. You break the tension, trying to mimic his unbreakable stare.

“Dude what are you looking at?”

“I’m waiting for you to sit so I can serve you.”

“Excuse me?”

He looks around at the bar. “I am a bartender. I would like to make a drink.” His words are drawn out and slow. You detect a hint of exasperation in his tone, which strangely satisfies you.

You plop into the seat in front of him, unfortunately looking more pouty than defiant. You hear a light chuckle as he takes a moment to look down at you before going behind the bar.

“Pick your poison.”

His confidence annoys you, but with his back turned, you can’t help but be taken aback by his silhouette, backlit by the low lights he’s temporarily hung along the bar. “Are you a clear liqueur or a brown liqueur person? Nightmare tried to make venom rum one time but Mateo caught him and banned him from the shelter.” This is the first time you hear him laugh all day. It’s light and breathy, but there is always that low buzz in his voice. Hearing him talk reminds you of taking road trips through the back country where you can hear the power lines over the cornfields and the sky is a gradient of gray and blue. It’s at this point that Eddie turns around almost as if making sure you’re still there.

“Hello?”, he says half concerned half condescendingly. “There’s a joke about things like this. Something about the lights being on. Can’t remember the rest.” He smirks at you, awaiting your reaction.

You roll your eyes exaggeratedly away from him. “You’re not funny.”

“And you’re distracted.”, he pokes.

Something about his words sends a flush through your cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He just smirks. “Nope, probably not. Now, poison?”, he says as he picks up two bottles - one with a clear liquid and one that looks like watery iced tea.

“Oh. I don’t know. I normally just let Bev make whatever for me.”

“Oooooookay. What has Bev made you that you like?”

“Oh. I usually just, you know, finish the whole thing, like in one gulp…to show my appreciation. So she knows I like it.”

“But how can you know if you like it if you don’t taste it.”

“No, the point isn’t that I like it. The point is that I show her that I like it.”

His arms drop a bit. “Uh-huh.” There’s a second of silence that feels like it lasts hours. “So, what I’m hearing is that you let Bev pick your drink for you and then you choose not to enjoy it so that you can make her feel like you enjoyed it so much?”

“Well don’t say it like that.”

“I’m saying it how you said it.”

“You’re literally not.”

“Does everything have to be difficult with you?”

“Do you have to make everything I do seem difficult?” You didn’t think it would be a bad thing to say before you said it. It meant so little when it was in your head. But saying it out loud, to him, is a touch more honest than you’re prepared to be. And he notices. The catch in your voice surprises both of you. You try to match his glare, even as his face drops into remorse, but your quivering brow betrays you and you turn your head away. “I am not trying to make trouble.”

“I know”, he says.

“Then what is with the lack of faith today? Like I do one thing wrong and, yes, you had to save me and I am grateful, but it’s like you don’t trust me or something.”

What is that in his eyes? Like iron in a furnace, but only for a second. “I am sorry that I have made you feel like I don’t have faith in you. I did not mean it.” His words are measured and soft. It almost sounds like he’s reading it off of a paper that he can barely see. You stifle a chuckle. “Are you kidding me?”

You scoff out the rest of your laugh. “Dude, what?”

“Forget it, I tried to apologize for making you feel bad and you laughed at me?”

“I wasn’t laughing at your apology! I really appreciate it. Honestly, I do. I just…I mean I’ve literally met computers that sounded more natural than you trying to apologize.” You shield your mouth in your hand as if that would hide the absolute glee shining in your eyes. “I’m sorry” Your apology is a whistle through squeaky laughter. You’re worried he’ll get upset at you, or kick you out and never let you come back. But he just keeps staring at you as you try and fail to stifle your giggle fit. You wipe a tear from your eye and try to bite the giggles off of your bottom lip.

“Crying, you’re crying now.”

“I am not”, you say, wiping another tear.

His face is softer than you’ve ever seen it. His eyes aren’t wandering or burrowing. This is a gaze that you don’t feel the need to fight against. Without thinking about it, you quiet your laugh.

“All done?”, he asks with a smirk.

You just nod your head.

“This bar is everything to me. It is my life. It’s a big step for me to let someone in like this, to see it when it’s not at its best. I have never given someone the chance to see it this…exposed. I obviously trust you. I’m sorry for hovering around today. It’ll be different tomorrow.”

The sincerity in his voice warms you to your core better than any drink could. “So I’m invited back tomorrow?” You sit up in your seat and give him your cheekiest smile.

He shakes his head, grinning at you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

You prop yourself up and lean over the bar to touch his forearm. “Thank you for what you said. I’m sorry, I didn’t consider how invasive this might feel. I’ll try to pay more attention from now on.”

His eyes train on your hand on his forearm suspended in midair. He doesn’t pull it away or set it down. He just keeps it in space for a second. And then he looks at you, and you see it - the copper in his eyes blooms into red coils that spark inside themselves. There’s a buzzing in his veins that you can feel through his exposed skin. Before you can pull your hand away and ask if he’s okay, a nearby lightbulb glows bright white then bursts in a spark of blue, sending glass all over the floor.

“You should go.”, he says, taking his arm back.

“Are you okay? What was that? Here, I can help clean up the glass-“.

“Please go.” His voice is strained and low and it’s lost its playfulness from before. You feel as if something has suddenly gone wrong.

As you quietly leave, he says “There’s a lot of work to do…if you still wanted to come back tomorrow.” Whatever might have gone wrong, Eddie is trying to make it right.

“I will see you then.”, you say in the same stilted manner as his apology. He rolls his eyes but a chuckle escapes his crooked smile. As you leave the club, you don’t hear Eddie sweeping the broken glass, but you do hear a low buzz beginning to build along the walls, like the veins of the club are coming alive.

Part 2

[shoxxcc]

perfect eyes

one’s words—careless and sharp, can carve permanent scars to someone so fragile and beautiful. one’s words can create darkness one does not wish to bask in. one’s words can push one to reside and grow familiar in a space where there is only a distortion of suffering. but one’s words can also give someone the light they needed; the light that will blind many, but will clear one’s gnawing feeling hidden beneath a façade of healing.

pairing: non-idol!park jisung x gn!reader

g: slight angst (if you squint), fluff

wc: 0.9k

warnings: insecurity, mentions of bullying/teasing, knife, allusions to threats

“ahh.. they're still puffy...” jisung sadly huffed an air, referring to his eyes which you find adorable but he finds bothersome growing up. something small, yet is a big deal to others and to him as well.

after hours of reading from his new books last night, he couldn’t help but sneak some ramen in the kitchen at 4:00 am. two packs to be exact and some mandu—probably a few, like three.

but waking up with puffy eyes, jisung regrets acting like a mad man who hasn’t been fed for days.

sitting on a stool in the kitchen island, he watches you rummaging through drawers and picking up utensils you used to make the first meal of the day while getting annoyed at how loud the pressure cooker has gotten; blaming the appliance for being so loud for you to not hear him.

“baby, do you know how i can get rid of these?” he calls for you, wanting some attention.

“what?” you questioned, still minding your business. but jisung didn’t like you not paying attention to him. and for the time you waited for his answer, he remained unexpectedly silent instead. until he’s got you turning around to look at him who had a frown in his face, before asking again, “i’m sorry, baby. what do you want to get rid of?”

“does my eyes look puffy?” he questions, almost vulnerably.

you examined his bare face; one that literally looked like he had just awoken, but nothing else was new nor did his eyes look puffy. “they look alright. is that what’s bothering you?”

jisung nodded timidly, “you may or may not get mad, but i felt greedy last night...” he admitted how he sneaked out of the bed and with how much food he had consumed.

“i’m not mad at all. you can eat whatever you like, whenever. just in moderation though.” you turned around to continue what you were initially doing.

“i just,” he hesitated, but decided to say what has been bothering him since he woke up, “….i can’t stop thinking about that one kid back then, saying my eyes look like soggy udon.”

and just as quickly you chopped the scallions and bell peppers, a remarkable 180° swift of your body and the loud piercing of the knife on the chopping board startled jisung. “excuse me? whose kid said that?”

the moment jisung saw the look of annoyance and anger in your eyes and the knife you held close in your hand, he shakes his head in fear. “i-it’s nothing big, baby. it just randomly popped in my mind again…” he looked down with his teeth sinking in his bottom lip, anxiously tapping the marbled surface.

you felt your heart being squeezed at the sight, as well as the grip on the knife that stabbed the wooden board. you think he’s probably regretting opening that topic up in the first place—always so careful and mindful with what he says. and you somehow felt bad knowing he’s not even the one at fault here.

eventually, you put the deadly weapon down, walking towards where he is. your hands instinctively reached to cup his face, like they belonged there.

“it’s something big if it affects you badly.” he only pursed a sad smile as you caressed his plump pillows. “you don't look bad with your bags. they make you cute and make your eyes more pretty.” you assured him and you swore you saw a glint of hope flashing in his eyes. “and you have the prettiest small eyes i’ve ever seen.”

his heart warmed at the compliments.

for years, jisung had carried the insecurity of having small, puffy eyes, with only a big dream of fitting and conforming to the standards mainly thrown by the society. what all began with a little joke gradually became constant teasing by some kids in his childhood.

but he had never really gotten to end the nightmare by escaping these restraints that held him growing up without repeatedly falling into the abyss of doubts and uncertainty.

for years, he lived close with all the familiar point outs of his eyes; far from the foreign compliments that refuged him safe.

and now those same deep pools that drowned your own two years ago looked at you with pure fondness. this time, with brimming tears. wanting another assurance, sweet talks, some praises, another compliment—wanting more coming from you. not that he doesn’t have any ounce of trust in your words, but jisung’s actually starting to think that he’s capable of breaking free from the years of restraints, now that he's genuinely believing he’s lovable enough because you are there to tell him so.

“really..?” he quietly whispered, “you think my eyes are pretty?” and you nodded slowly.

“very.”

and that's on period.

“but they make me look-”

he was taken aback when your body leaned forward, closing his eyes in the process and anticipated a kiss on the lips or on his cheek but was kissed on one of his closed eyes instead.

when he fully opened his eyes, you were already grinning, “you're very, very perfect, love,”

oh, how much he wants to erase that grin of yours with a kiss and replace it with a flustered expression.

he could not imagine a life without the only person with a glorified soul who’s capable of making him feel special and worthy.

jisung settled his big hands above your small ones on his cheeks, while leaning forward and returning a smooth kiss on your lips. when he pulled away, he still couldn’t erase that grin on your face. but at least you were happy, and so was he.

“thank you…” his thumbs rubbed the back of your hands in comfort; wanting to melt under your touch. “what would i actually do without you?” he forced a pout, and you both giggled—yours becoming louder. and as quick as flash, he stole another peck on your lips, shutting you up. “but uh… as much as i'd love to be this close to you…” jisung slowly removed himself away from your hold and shoved your arms to your sides—back to where they belonged. his lips stretched in fear as he looked everywhere in the kitchen but your eyes, “…your hands are spicy, baby.”

credits:

— dividers: @uzmacchiato @strangergraphics @saradika-graphics

— photos: pinterest

the author: i made this probably like two years ago as a drabble, with just like five lines. i’m kinda impressed i was able to work it out and make it longer. and this was initially inspired by that one live of jisung and renjun. to whoever said that one comment about his face, he’s vv perfect !

and by the way, we have some crazy coincidence here! this work was posted on 06.25.2025, and the day after, jisung had a bubble message saying his eyes looked puffy/swollen on their way to smtown london. but i tell you, i cannot make up something as crazy as this actually is.

some works of: shoxxcc

[flyingprodigy]

Oh. Brad looks at Jean-Paul from the side. That's where the understanding comes from.

"I'm sorry you went through this, too. And that you went through it for longer, are still going through it. I..."

Brad swings his free leg, always needing to be rid of extra energy.

"I was lucky. Eleanor, Rose, and Joey found me after five days. The Owls...I was ordered to be still and silent on a surgical table. They were going to make me a Talon, controlling my mind already wasn't enough. But I was rescued."

He smiles, a quick fragile thing. Rests his chin on his knee.

"I was ordered to kill Els, but Joey took me down before I did more than throw a knife. The Owl told me to kill everyone and... If Joey didn't have his healing...I stabbed him. Femoral artery. He barely noticed. I am so lucky."

"So, they didn't make me their assassin, but... For five days I was. Obedient. I'd hurt myself at their command. I'd fight their Talons. I'd bring them the tools they'd torture it with and hold still for them."

"It'd beg at their feet and lie in their bed and cry like a person when its Master commanded. It enjoyed what was happening. It was ordered to enjoy being..."

Fuck. It Brad presses its forehead against his knee, hiding his face, wishing the body would stop shaking. Stupid. Grandstanding creature. Has to have all the attention, doesn't it? No wonder it was so easily left behind, he's annoying!

"Sorry. Sorry, I don't mean to..."

Az went through my phone contacts and renamed everyone shit like "sinner" "blasphemer" "pure"

[sainteclectic]

soul fragments. you agree

[bixels]

tarpit site.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

anyway to end the series on ganondorf tp's writing, my take (which isn't canon but arguable as a valid "death of the author" read imo) is that he is at his most iredeemable AND that's because he has zero things left to lose and no community left and his goal doesn't even make sense anymore he is parasitic and a ghost and pathologically obsessed by his own godlike legitimacy because that is the only thing he still has and it has prolonged his life in a horrible diminished state in a nightmare dimension so SURELY it must mean something right right RIGHT