#My little gremlin hands are balled up into fists clutching at the ground

[space-heat3r]

Liushen currently has me in a chokehold and I do not know if it will be releasing me any time soon.

[heich0e]

the heart is but a winding road p.1 - shouto todoroki/f!reader (1.3k) pro-hero shouto, we're talkin late 20s early 30s-ish, this independent bachelor turned begrudging father figure fic was almost certainly inspired by buddy daddies, pure fluff, sho is about to make a new bff who happens to be 5 years old much to everyone's surprise

YOU ARE HERE - p.2 - p.3 - p.4 (upcoming)

It’s not that Shouto wouldn’t make a good parent. Quite the opposite really. It’s just that after his tumultuous upbringing, he’s more at peace with the idea of spending his adulthood independently. He’s a bit awkward with kids anyway. Doesn’t know how to talk to them. The idea of having one toddling along behind him 24/7 makes him kinda itchy and uncomfortable, like when sweaters are made with synthetic material and get put through the dryer.

His friends often tell him he’ll probably change his mind as he gets older. His family does too. But he keeps getting older and his stance stays the same. Fuyumi gets married and starts having kids first. Natsuo and his partner eventually adopt as well after trying for a few years. Denki elopes on a trip abroad and has three kids before their graduating class has even hit 25. Kirishima is next. Momo. Sero. Slowly, everyone Shouto knows is settling down and getting married and starting families.

And he just… doesn’t want that.

“‘Scuse me.”

Shouto is staring at a puddle in the middle of the street one afternoon, lost in his thoughts. It’s just stopped raining, and everything around him on the city street is soaked as the water slowly pools and slithers away into the storm drains. His phone is in his hand, open to where Uraraka has just sent a text to the old class 1-A group chat to announce she’s having her second baby.

Shouto turns towards the sound that interrupted his swirling thoughts, and a pair of wide eyes gazes up at him from roughly thigh-height. 

“Yes?” the man asks, polite but a bit clipped, as he stares down warily at the child by his feet.

The kid probably wants a picture, he realizes. Even out of his Pro Hero suit he’s still fairly recognizable, and it’s a common occurrence. He’s got a baseball cap and mask on today though, and really hadn’t wanted to be spotted.

“Uhhh, uhmm…” the kid stammers, tugging at the hem of their little yellow rain jacket.

Shouto sighs a little.

“Do you want a pho-“

“Littering is bad!”

The child’s hands are balled up into determined little fists at their sides, their eyes squeezed closed like they mustered all their strength to say the words.

And Shouto is… speechless.

“Uh,” he falters, uncertain what the hell is even happening. “Yeah?”

The kid's eyes open again, and this time they look more resolved than they had a moment prior. Less friendly, too.

“So why’d you LITTER?”

People walking by on the sidewalk are starting to stare now, and Shouto gets that itchy, uncomfortable sensation that he hates as he feels the prickle of their eyes on him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks the child nervously, tugging his cap down a little further over his face.

The kid puffs out their cheeks indignantly.

“You dropped this garbage on the ground back there.” Clutched in the child’s tiny fist is a slip of paper—a receipt, Shouto quickly surmises. His receipt from the shop he’d just visited, which must have fallen from his pocket when he’d pulled out his phone. The little gremlin waves it around accusatorially. “And you didn’t pick it up! That’s littering.”

Shouto crouches down to meet the kid at eye-level, hoping that, if nothing else, it will stop raising its voice if he gets a bit closer.

“That was an accident,” Shouto tries to explain—tries to deescalate the situation—but the look on the child’s face doesn’t soften in the slightest. The worst part about all of this is that Shouto does actually need that receipt. He eyes it for a moment, contemplating his next move, and then he sighs. “Can I have that back?”

“No,” the kid answers immediately. “Littering is a crime and this is my eminence.”

“Your what?” the man asks flatly.

“My eminence,” the kid replies, turning their nose up at him like he’s the one being foolish.

Shouto blinks blankly at the knee-high pain in his ass.

“Nao! Nao!”

A startled, frantic voice makes Shouto’s head turn on instinct—the panic igniting a sense, an alertness, that’s been long-engrained in him.

He spots you down the road, an umbrella in your hand and a flustered but relieved look on your face, racing towards him.

Him? 

Shouto is confused for a moment, until he remembers he’s not alone.

“Mama!” the present bane of Shouto’s existence melts into something unrecognizable to the thorn they’d been in his side only a moment prior—their tone sweet and excited when they spot you jogging over.

“Nao-chan,” you breathe, falling to your knees on the sidewalk and wrapping your arms around their little yellow-raincoat clad body, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Mama, I caught a criminal!” the child, who Shouto can only assume is named Nao, says excitedly as they point an eager finger in his direction.

You turn and face Shouto with a startled look on your face.

This day is really not going his way.

Your cautious eyes scan Shouto for a moment, understandably wary considering your child just proudly labelled him a criminal, but he sees a flicker of recognition kindling behind your gaze that melts away your initial look of mistrust. Begrudgingly, he reaches up and loops a finger under the edge of his mask, tugging it down to his chin to reveal his face.

Your lips part, then close again.

“Nao-chan, I think you made a mistake,” you say softly to the child tucked against your side.

“Nuh-uh, Mama! I caught him littering and I got eminence!” 

“Evidence, baby,” you correct the child gently.

“Yeah, that!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, looking vaguely mortified, and huff out a little laugh.

“I’m so sorry,” you say to Shouto, an apologetic grimace on your face, “he’s been obsessed with the recycling hero lately. It’s all he talks about.”

Shouto eyes the child, the boy, at your side. He’s familiar with Reductro, the Recycling Hero, but only vaguely. He’s been working with the education branch of the Hero Commission for the past few years, teaching kids to minimize their waste and promote taking care of the environment, and the two have met in passing a few times through work and the like. Shouto had no idea he had these kind of die-hard fans.

“You like Reductro?” Shouto asks the kid curiously.

The little boy’s face lights up.

“He’s the best!”

“What’s so cool about him?” Shouto asks, genuinely interested.

“He came to my school last week and he helps to get plastic outta the ocean!” The little boys eyes sparkle as he replies. “He took a gillion plastic bags out of the bay last year!”

Shouto purses his lips. that is pretty cool.

“Nao, give the nice hero back his receipt now, please,” you urge your son, seemingly eager to end this ordeal amicably. 

The little boy squints up at Shouto’s face, shuffling a bit closer. “You’re a hero?” he asks skeptically.

Shouto nods. “I’m Pro Hero Shouto.”

The little boy’s jaw gapes, and Shouto feels a little swell of smugness in his chest. He’s the number three hero after all, the kid must have heard of him.

“Do you know Reductro?”

The swell of his hubris deflates immediately. 

A few more words are exchanged as Nao—Naoyuki, age 5, likes Pro Hero Reductro and dislikes broccoli, as Shouto comes soon to learn—returns his misplaced receipt and you apologize again for your son’s overzealousness. With a few polite bows and one last apology for good measure, the three of you part ways—Naoyuki’s little rain boots thumping along the sidewalk as the two of you depart hand-in-hand.

Shouto looks down at the paper in his palm after you’re gone, unable to shake the foreign feeling that’s crept over him, and curled itself into his chest underneath his ribs. He clasps his fingers around the troublesome receipt and shoves his hand into his coat pocket as he sets off in the direction of his apartment.

He keeps the little slip of paper tightly in his grip the entire way home.

[ramzawrites]

Hello! May i suggest a drabble?

Philza teaching y/n how to fly/ use their wings; Just thought i'd be a funny enough idea picturing these massive wings on a child and having dadza teaching them. 🌿

-Much love, anon.

Reader and Philza - Flying Lessons

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Philza, Tommyinnit, Tubbo

Warnings: cursing

Series: a request from a nice anon :D

Summary: Philza caught Y/N once again in trouble with Tommy and Tubbo and after breaking that little dispute up Y/N surprised him with the question “Can you teach me how to fly?” They sure are lucky that Philza has a weakspot for the fellow winged hybrid.

Words count: 2040

Authors Note: I love Dadza so much and I love writing for him so thank you so much for the request :D

There was a crash followed by a loud scream and curses. All accompanied by laughter from multiple people.

Now, the SMP was chaotic and Phil was slowly getting used to it but this commotion somehow piqued his interest enough that he was curious to see what had happened. He dropped the equipment he was working on in a random chest and ran towards his front door.

The crash and the voices sounded pretty loud so it didn’t surprise him at all when he found a group of people in the middle of the town.

He found Tommy, Y/N and Tubbo. The usual troublemakers.

Tommy was laying on the ground, flat on his back. His hand outstretched and pointing at Y/N who was giggling to themself as Tommy cursed them out, calling them a “brat” and the like which Philza found quite ironic.

Tubbo stood close by, clutching his stomach as he continued laughing. Gasping for air whenever he had the chance. Tears brimming in his eyes. Honestly he looked close to collapse. Hard to imagine that he was the president of this place.

Y/N on the other hand had their arms smugly in front of their chest. Their wings half closed but still sporting an impressive wingspan for their young age by the looks of it.

As Tommy finally decided to stand up, Philza made his way towards them as well “What happened?” He was already halfway to chuckling himself alone from Tubbo’s laughing, Tommy’s screaming and Y/N’s puffed up body language.

Exasperated Tommy turned to the winged man “It’s Y/N! I was talking to Tubbo, you know state secrets and all, and they just ambushed me!”

Philza couldn’t help but to raise one of his eyebrows at him “Ambushed? What do you mean ambushed?”

“They just-“ Tubbo begun talking, he was still laughing but he managed to calm down somewhat “They were just suddenly there! I was talking to Tommy and then I saw them gliding down in the corner of my eye and they straight up kicked him down. It was so funny, Philza!”

Tommy scoffed “They did that on purpose!”

At this exclamation Y/N ran around behind Philza and hid behind his legs. Standing between Phil’s body and his wings. Grabbing onto his shirt and peeking their head out at the blonde “Actually it was a mistake! I didn’t mean to!”

Almost instinctively Philza opened up his wing so they could fit in and put his hand on their head “What happened, Y/N?”

It took a moment before they answered “I wanted to learn how to fly…”

They pulled their gaze back up from the ground and instead threw an angry expression towards Tommy “So, it really wasn’t my fault! You were just in my way!”

“Oh you little-“ Tommy begun but Philza interrupted him.

“Hey, drop it. They said they didn’t mean to, so they didn’t mean to. Besides aren’t you too busy as Vice President to argue with a child? Weren’t you telling me that you were talking about state secrets with Tubbo there?”

Tubbo nodded “Yeah come on big man! They did apologize right after so let’s just get going.”

“Alright, you are lucky Philza is here or- or- I don’t know but something would have happened!” Tommy grumbled.

He then turned around and continued walking along. Tubbo waved Philza and Y/N goodbye only to follow his best friend.

Once they were out of ear shot Philza let out a sigh. Tommy was a troublesome, troublesome person. It wasn’t the first time he had come to Y/N’s aid like this. In fact whenever problems arose Y/N would run over to Philza and ask for help.

Philza took his hand off of Y/N and took a step back so he could look at them. Their wings now hugging their back like usual and instead of their self-assured expression they looked a bit sad.

“What’s wrong?”

“You were able to fly before L’Manburg blew up, right?”

He was a bit surprised by that question “Uh, yeah. My wings are too damaged now for me to be able to fly though.”

While Y/N still looked worried, a bit of determination broke through “Could you teach me? Teach me how to fly? There is no one else here who could!”

Y/N was right. Sure, they could probably learn how to fly on their own over time but it didn’t surprise him that they would approach him for it. He himself had to learn how to fly alone and would have really appreciated someone else to help him.

“Well before I can say anything, can you open up your wings for me? Show me exactly how big they are.”

This seemed to brighten up Y/N’s mood and they happily obliged. Their wings swinging open and showing off how huge they actually have gotten. It took Phil a long while until his wings were big and strong enough to carry his weight but for Y/N it seemed to be different.

They were pretty young but their wings were already so big that it took him aback for a moment.

He nodded “Oh wow, okay. Honestly I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to fly with these. They look strong enough to hold you.”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide “You think so? You will help me?”

“Yeah, I will you little gremlin. Let’s get somewhere else with more space and preferably high up.”

There he was. Agreeing to help Y/N without even really thinking about it. They were seriously lucky that Philza had grown to have a bit of a soft spot for them. So much so that the joke was going around that Philza has adopted another child once again since he just can’t help himself.

Which was very much warranted seeing how they basically have moved in with Phil at this point. He didn’t feel comfortable with the though that this young child lived on their own.

Said kid was now happily skipping towards a clearing on a low mountain. It was semi easy accessible but a good place for them to practice without anyone else causing problem on purpose.

Honestly Phil wasn’t really sure how he felt about all this. Sure he was happy with how happy Y/N was but it also made him miss his own wings. His ability to just take off and fly to wherever he wanted to go.

Shoving these thoughts away Phil decided to pull his attention back to Y/N. Making sure they wouldn’t suddenly fall down the mountain somehow.

Once they arrived Phil fell down onto one of his knees and put his hands on Y/N’s shoulders “Before we start, you know how to glide and have done it before, correct? I saw you do it multiple times but I want to still ask you.”

They eagerly nodded, their mouth in a huge grin accompanied by a blush from the excitement.

“Okay good. That makes it easier. You see that rock formation over there? You think you could get up on there? When you are up there try jumping off. If you are too scared you can just glide down to me but try flapping your wings a bit. It should come natural. It did for me at least.”

He stood back up and opened up his own destroyed black wings. They still hurt a bit but it was bearable.

Y/N still seemed to be amazed though.

Phil begun moving his wings. Moving them in a way he was used to.

“You see how I move them? Can you do that too?”

The young kid didn’t wait long to do so. Opening up their wings to show off their full wingspan once again. Swinging their wings back and forth which created way more wind that pushed against Philza than he first imagined.

He laughed “Okay, I see you have no problems doing so. You think you can do what I asked you? You feel up for it? I’m gonna wait down here for you.”

“Yes!” they cheered and ran towards the stone formation. It looked like a ton of huge boulders that fell down the actual mountain, forming this pile.

Y/N closed their wings and climbed up the rocks unexpectantly fast.

While Philza barked orders at them in order to teach them in truth he had no real idea what he was doing. His best method on how to learn to fly was just to jump off somewhere and hope. That’s how he learned and that’s pretty much how he handled raising Wilbur now that he really thought about it.

“Hey! Hey! Make sure you look, okay? I want you to look, Dadza!”

Dadza? That was a first from them. Not that he minded it.

“I’m looking! I’m looking! Don’t worry!”

Y/N stood still and bowed down a little bit. Opening up their wings but they didn’t move. They just stood there, hands balled up into fists close to their chest. Y/N looked like they could move and jump any second but they just didn’t. Their feet where the only thing shuffling around.

“Y/N?”

“I can- I can do it but- but- I am scared!”

That was something he should have expected. They were about ten feet up in the air so it really was a normal reaction even though he was sure that Y/ N has been jumping off higher places to glide off.

But still this was kind of a different situation.

Philza thought for a moment “I will catch you?” He sounded unsure himself. Of course he would catch them in case anything happens but he wasn’t sure it would make them feel reassured. It was still high up. If he could he would probably stand next to them and fly off first to show them but alas this was not an option.

“Okay!” It somehow seemed to work.

Y/N was putting a lot of trust into Phil.

To support his claim Phil opened up his arms and put them in front of him. Nodding to Y/N as a sign that he was ready. He then moved his wings away from his body once again. Moving them just like when he demonstrated to Y/N how to move them beforehand.

With a deep breath Y/N followed his example. Beginning to move their own and once they felt like they had the rhythm down enough, they jumped.

Phil saw for a split second how panic spread across their face but they didn’t crash down. They stayed in the air. A bit unsteady but they effectively flew in the air.

“Dad look!” Y/N cheered only to drop a good feet down which made Phil jump in trying to run beneath them in hopes of catching them in case they do fall down but Y/N managed to stabilize themself again.

He let out a hearty laugh “I see! You are doing it!” Phil wasn’t sure if they noticed how they defaulted to calling him Dad or Dadza now. There was no need to correct them though. At least that’s how he felt about it.

Y/N begun flying in circles around him. Their expression showing off their glee only to suddenly grow pale “How- How do I land?”

“Shit I knew I forgot something. Just try to glide down for now like how you usually do!”

Y/N immediately angled their wings and stopped moving them. Now gliding down still in circles but Phill soon noticed that they still had quite the speed on them. So when they got down enough Phil sprinted in their way and tried catching them.

The end result of that was Y/N just crashing into Phil’s chest and pulling him off his feet. Both landing safely on the ground. Phil’s arms wrapped around their small body, protecting them from sustaining any wounds that they could get from grazing the ground.

While Phil’s heart was still pumping hard from fear, Y/N used the chance to also wrap their small arms around him “Thank you! I was flying! I was flying!”

Tired Phil nodded, mostly just glad Y/N seemed to be alright “Yeah, though you better practice. You weren’t even up there for a whole minute. I can’t always catch you like this. I’m too old for this, you little shit.”

[imaginexmeintheuniverse]

Seventeen

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some swearing 

Word Count: 4, 776

Summary: Sharing a birthday on top of a life-long friendship, there are five times on that special day where Peter Parker and the reader almost kiss, and perhaps there’s one time it’ll actually happen?

Masterlist

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write a fic based off this awesome song and it ended up being one of those ‘five times + one’ things, as well as hella long cus ya girl is Extra AF™. I haven’t written for this sweet cinnamon roll in a while so I hope it’s not too awful!

Seventeen by Alessia Cara

My daddy says that life comes at you fast

We all like blades of grass

We come to prime and in time we just wither away

And it all changes

My view with a looking glass won’t catch the past

Only photographs remind us of the passing of days

“Look that’s you!” you exclaim as you point at your best friend in the photograph while looking at him with wide eyes. Looking back at the photo, his cheeks and hands are chubbier, and his head seems slightly too big for his body, but it’s obviously Peter Parker. His big brown eyes and wide smile haven’t changed.

You and him are dressed up like pirates and you feel like you’ve stumbled upon the greatest treasure as you two flip through albums you’ve just found in his parents’ room. The pair of you were scouring the house when you saw the colorful binders perfectly lined up on his parents’ bookshelf.

“And look!” Peter gasps, the tip of his finger landing on another picture across the page, his arm almost smacking you in the face on its way there. “It’s us!” You two start giggling at the smaller and chubbier versions of you laughing on baby swings as your father pushes both of you. As soon as you see the photo right below it, you deem it your favorite. Peter’s face is pressed up against yours as he hugs you tightly, slightly lifting you off the ground so that there’s no height difference.

“Whoa!” You cry out, after noticing a picture of his parents kissing.

“What is it?” Peter looks at you, his head tilted to the side.

“Look at what your mommy and daddy are doing!” Pointing this out sends both of you into a fit of giggles and covering up the photo with your little hands.

“What do you think that’s like?” he asks after you’ve settled down.

“What?”

“Kissing on the lips.”

“I don’t know! That’s for mommies and daddies!” His question elicits more giggles from you and has you rolling on the floor.

“Hey! Stop laughing at me!” he pouts, arms crossed over his chest as he stands over you.

“I’m sorry, Peter.” You suddenly stop laughing and get up to hug him. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” You pull back and smile at him expectantly. When he just stares at you without saying anything, you let out an impatient huff. “Well? You wanted to try didn’t you?” He blinks a few times before hesitantly leaning towards you.

“There are the birthday pirates!” Peter’s father enters the room, wearing an eye patch and silly birthday hat that has a big '5’ on it. You spring apart, instinctively reaching for your toy swords at the sound of the door opening.“What are you kids doing up here? There’s a party going on downstairs!” He looks at the mess of albums sprawled all over the floor and chuckles as he begins picking them off the floor. “How about you two head back down while I clean up the little mess you’ve made. Everyone’s waiting for you to blow out your candles,” he beams at both of you, sending you back to join the party.

Peter runs after you, following you out of the room, only for you to stop abruptly after getting past the doorframe. Before he realizes what’s happening, you quickly peck him on the cheek and run off, leaving him dazed and grinning widely.

Oh nothing stays the same from yesteryears

See I recall being afraid of the dark

And holding on to teddy bears

I’d wrap myself in blankets just to cover me from fears

That was then and now I’m here

And the night is mine

It’s you and Peter’s first girl/boy sleepover party and everyone has fallen asleep after crashing from the sugar high. All of your friends are tucked away in their sleeping bags all over the living room while your parents sleep in their own room.

You wake up abruptly; your hair resembles a haystack and you’re squeezing your teddy bear so tight, your little arm hurts. The nightmare is already forgotten, but you still feel terrified. You quietly slip out of your sleeping bag and you’re about to go to your parents room when you hear a small voice call your name.

“Hey, where are you going?” A groggy Peter sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. You look back at him, the faint light reflecting off your tear-streaked cheeks.

“I had a bad dream,” you squeak. “Peter, I’m scared.”

He springs up from his spot, immediately padding over to you, knowing about your fear of the dark on top of the nightmare you’ve just had. Peter’s always come to your rescue just like you would do for him. His hand finds your smaller one and he leads you through the dark hallway to the kitchen. “Come, let’s get some milk.”

Sharing Oreos and milk have become a tradition of yours and Peter’s when you can’t sleep or if you’ve had a bad dream during sleepovers. Your parents don’t know of course, because they wouldn’t let you two have sweets this late at night. However, they did often voice their suspicions about gremlins sneaking into the cupboards the next day.

After placing back the chair you had dragged out to reach the box of cookies, you take your seat next to Peter. He expertly splits a cookie and peels the icing off, placing it on top of your Oreo because he knows how much you love the icing. You clink cookies before dipping them in your glasses of milk.

Having left the mess on the table, you stop Peter before he tows you into the darkness. “Peter wait!”

“What is it, Y/N?” You speak in hushed tones.

“It’s really dark,” you mutter, one hand holding his and the other clutching your bear close to your body for comfort.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’m here,” he beams at you, placing his other hand carefully to have your sandwiched between his like he’s caught a butterfly. He lifts your conjoined hands and presses a little kiss to the back of yours. Your tummy suddenly feels funny, but you don’t feel sick, and all you can do is match his wide grin.

“Look, Y/N!” One of his hands lets go of yours as he points to the clock’s digits that glow from across the room. “We’re eight-years-old now!”

My mother said don’t forget where you come from, where you’ve been

Always keep your closest friends they can’t slip away

They keep you grounded

Oh keep yourself surrounded with good advice

And yeah I guess that sounded nice when I was ten

Cooties aren’t really your concern anymore, but boys are still considered gross. Regardless, both of your best friends happen to be boys, so the mean girls in your class make fun of you by association. To make matters worse, other kids generally picked on Peter and Ned for being more into books than sports. Needless to say, you three were always the last picked when it came to making dodge ball teams and ate it real bad during the games. But today is your birthday and you’re not taking any of it.

So far the day had been going pretty well; the class sang 'happy birthday’ to you and Peter, and your teacher handed out yummy muffins she bakes whenever it’s someone’s birthday. Alas, like every other day, today was no different when it came to lunch time.

“Hey look everyone it’s the three muska-dorks!” Flash shouts out and everyone else around you laughs like they always do. You don’t get it; his jokes aren’t even clever. “And there’s Y/N you can’t even tell she’s a girl!”

You stick your tongue out at him, Ned keeps his eyes glued to the floor and stays quiet like he usually does, but for some reason Peter stopped in his tracks. His fist are clenched so tight that his knuckles have gone white and you can see the veins protruding from his skinny arms where his sleeves are rolled up. He looks like he’s struggling to get the words out of his mouth and Flash’s taunts aren’t helping.

“What are you going to do? Penis Parker!” The whole cafeteria erupts in laughter at the dumb nickname.

You take a step towards Peter and snap him out of his angry daze. “Come on, Peter.” When he doesn’t budge you grab his hand and tow him away from the scene. Flash can be heard shouting out his less-than-witty comments as you leave.

Ned is first to sit on the grass and open up his lunch under the tree where the three of you always have lunch when it’s nice out. You and Peter are about to join him when you hear those aforementioned mean girls who have clearly spotted you and him holding hands. “Peter and Y/N sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I—”

“Oh would you grow up!” You shout at them, letting go of Peter’s hand.

“Look! Nerdy Ned’s had another accident!” one girl points out. You turn to see Ned who struggles with cleaning up the food he’s spilled on his pants.

“And it’s Penis Parker!”

“Leave them alone!” You snap at her.

“Why? Boys are gross and so are you.” Their leader marches up and leans in a little too close for comfort. “Especially Penis Parker and Nerdy Ned.”

“Oh, bug off Piper!” You snarl, pushing yourself up on your toes to get real close to her stupid, stuck-up face. There is no way you’re going to back down from the girl who’s been relentlessly picking on you and your friends every chance she gets. You’ve always been told not to stoop to her level, but the girl needs to be taken down a notch. You lean in to whisper in her ear so that her minions can’t hear. “Everyone knows you peed your pants last year and you should count yourself lucky that no one’s calling you Peed Piper.” She quickly pulls back gasping in horror and you smirk. “So call them Penis Parker or Nerdy Ned again—”

“You wouldn’t!”

“She would,” Ned pipes up from behind you, knowing exactly what you told her.

“You better watch your back, Y/N.” With that, she lets out a huff and stamps her foot before leaving with the other girls following behind her.

You look back at Peter grinning. “I don’t think those girls are going to bother us anymore.”

He smiles back at you. “There’s still Flash though, and the rest of the school.”

“Let’s take it one villain at a time,” you say as you take your seat with your friends.

Peter holds out half his sandwich to you, which you gladly take and you give him half of yours like you always do. Sharing food is technically not allowed, but it’s something you and him have always done. When you hand him your half, his hand lingers on yours, leaving you with a tingly feeling when he says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

You know those snooty girls are wrong because boys aren’t so gross after all…

Oh but never were there truer words

In all my days I’ve ever heard

And when she told me little girl the answer is love

So those are words that I keep with me

Though the seasons change so quickly

Keep them buried in my heart

And never fought

Paper plates with cake crumbs and wrapping paper along with ribbons and tissue paper are being taken out to the trash by your father while Aunt May and your mother fuss over you and Peter to make sure you look perfect for the photos they’re about to take. They finally deem you picture worthy and step back with hands clasped to admire their work.

“Oh you two just look so good!” Aunt May practically squeals. “Ben, honey, go get the camera!”

Uncle Ben comes back with the camera, the blinding flash going off with a click before you and Peter can register that pictures are being taken. You’re certain that the first few photos are going to look ridiculous. Peter has an awkward smile plastered on his face and neither of you has an idea how to pose.

“Put an arm around her!” Uncle Ben physically comes up behind you to place Peter’s arm around your shoulders. You know for sure now that all the photos are going to be cringe-worthy. Peter feels like every single one of his muscles are tensed up and you’re as stiff as a doll as you snake your arm around his back in an attempt to look more natural. You and Peter had lots of pictures together, but this is a school dance and your parents are making way too big a deal out of it like they do every time which is both stressful and embarrassing.

The doorbell rings and the clicking stops as May and your mother go to check who it is. Your poor face can finally take a break from the forced smiles. “Ned’s here!” May shouts form the door. “Let’s get all three of them!”

Peter turns to you looking like he’s in pain. “You mean it’s not over yet?”

“I promise we’ll survive this,” You chuckle at him, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting hug. Ned proves to make the photo session significantly less painful as the three of you start taking ridiculous poses, laughing and smiling genuinely.

You’re eventually released from your captivity and you’ve now entered the school gym that’s been totally transformed. You don’t even have time to finish your drink before Ned drags you and Peter into the crowd where you have a blast dancing with your best friends. The music might not be your personal preference, but it’s upbeat and having fun with your friends is what matters more than the music choices of a bunch of fourteen-year-olds. A few songs in, Ned has to go to the bathroom claiming he “should not have chugged those two cups of punch,” and like clockwork, just as he exits the gym the current song ends.

You and Peter are left standing there awkwardly in front of one another as the music is changed to a much slower pace. Couples have started holding each other and swaying to the music around you, and you feel like there’s a spotlight shining on you and Peter. Your heart rate spikes and you wish the floor would swallow you up as you look to Peter who keep his gaze locked on his fidgeting hands that have become clammy. Your eyes desperately scan around the room for some sort of escape or inspiration to say something instead of staying frozen like an idiot.

Taking a step closer to your best friend you finally speak up, “This song sucks, huh?” You mentally slap yourself because you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“You really hate it that much?” Peter lifts his focus to your eyes and you instantly feel more comfortable at the familiar sight. Despite all the colorful lights flashing around, you still see his warm, chocolate hues clear as day.

“Oh- uh- no-” you stammer, successfully making an even bigger fool out of yourself. “I just didn’t know how to make this less awkward- and you know me—”

“Yeah, I do know you,” he chuckles.

“Don’t make fun of me Parker.” You narrow your eyes at him and poke him playfully.

“So, uh, should we dance— like together?” he suggests. It’s not really what you were expecting; honestly you thought he would offer to go get punch or any other way to get away from anymore potential awkwardness, but here he is asking you if he can put his arms around you and hold you close. Any possible feelings you have for the boy who stands before you haven’t been giving much thought because he’s Peter Parker; one of your two best friends and the boy you used to take baths with. You know he probably just meant it platonically, since it is just dancing after all— what could it possibly change? But you also can’t get the image out of your head nor can you get rid of the butterflies it brings to your stomach.

“I guess so.” Yeah, let’s keep it short and sweet to avoid any more damage.

Peter takes a hesitant step towards you, reducing the foot of space between to mere inches. You avoid his gaze as you lift your arms to place them around his neck. The actions are reluctant, but once your arms rest comfortably over his shoulders and his hands find their place in the middle of your back, it feels like home; as though you were somehow meant to be close like this. Peter lets out the breath he had been holding in the whole time and starts swaying to the slow rhythm, your body following his. You let him take the lead as you begin to spin slowly like the two of you are in your own orbit and everyone else disappears. It all feels overwhelming, but natural.

Maybe things could change for the best. Starting high school was already going to be a big change and that might make you feel super nervous, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if things were different with Peter. Here goes nothing. You lift your head from where it had laid on his shoulder and look into his eyes. “Peter?”

“Yeah?” His face is so close to yours that you have to look at him through your lashes to avoid bumping foreheads.

“I—” You stop yourself after the first syllable leaves your mouth because Ned pops out of nowhere.

“Hey! Are you guys dating now?” He looks back and forth between you and Peter. How in the hell are you supposed to react to that? You and Peter scramble away from each other and avoid eye contact at all costs as you both stumble through incomprehensible sentences.

“She- uh- we were just, ah—”

“We weren’t, um- it was—”

“Just dancing?” Ned says with an eyebrow raised and a twinge of doubt in his voice.

“Yeah…” You and Peter agree in unison, although Ned picks up on the fact that it’s dragged out longer than it should be and definitely doesn’t sound sure.

You mentally thank the DJ when the painfully long song finally ends. You grab both your friends and start dancing to the new song that has a faster beat, leaving the awkward moment behind. However, you would be lying if you said you didn’t think about the way you felt with Peter’s arms around you for the rest of the night.

I been goin on, I been growin up

I’m a know it all, I don’t know enough

See I was racing and waiting for the day that I would be old enough

Guess I’ll be patient and pace myself gotta prepare for when goings rough

You’ve just hung streamers from the ceiling and view the scene before you from where you stand on your stool. Your parents are setting the table, Aunt May is putting up the last of the decorations, and Michelle and Ned are adding the candles to the cake you’ve baked.

You notice that Peter’s been MIA for the past few minutes, so you head to his room to check up on him. The door creaks as you crack it open, peeking through to see Peter wiping furiously at his cheeks with his shirtsleeves and stammering, “W-Who is it?”

“It’s okay, Peter, it’s me,” you reply, entering his room and softly closing the door behind you. He turns so that his back faces you, ashamed to be seen like this. “Hey, it’s okay.” You take a seat next to him on his bed and place a hand on his shoulder to them pull him into a tight hug. It’s your birthday and his birthday; he knows he shouldn’t be making it a sad occasion, but Uncle Ben was always there, and this is just another reminder that he’s gone.

He wants to protest, feeling guilty about being a downer, but the words get lost in the sob that escapes him and he gives in to your embrace. His arms squeeze you back so tight you can barely breathe and his tears fall on your shoulder, soaking through your shirt, but you don’t even notice, instead basking in his warmth.

He pulls back, eyes red and puffy, and arms still loosely wrapped around your waist. “I’m sorry, Y/n—”

“Peter,” you stop him. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the locks at the nape of his neck, soothing him. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I-It’s just that- it’s the first one without him—”

“I know.” His glassy eyes bore into yours as you lean your forehead on his and whisper softly to him, “I know, Peter, and it’s okay.”

You wipe away a stray tear and your thumb lingers on his cheek, stroking over his skin. Your breaths mix, and you can’t help but allowing your eyes to dart down to his lips, looking back up to see him focused on yours. The only thing that separates your lips from his are an inch of space filled with unsorted and unresolved feelings, but also holds so much potential and hope. He hesitantly starts to close the distance, and your breath has just hitched at the realization that this might actually be happening, when you’re interrupted by Aunt May calling you from the kitchen.

“Y/N! Peter! It’s party time!”

All within a split second, both you and Peter’s eyes widen, and you jump up from his bed, turning away from each other to cover your blushing faces. It takes you some time to register what was actually about to happen. Were you really just about to kiss Peter— the Peter Parker; your life-long best friend?

“So, uh…” He walks up to you, cheeks red and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Y-Yeah!” You snap out of your thoughts, chuckling nervously, “We have a party to get to!”

“Yup, it’s right there- right down the hall,” he says quickly, motioning to the hallway.

“Wait!” You call out before he can open the door. He turns back to you with his eyes wide with surprise and you’re pretty sure your imagining the slight glimmer of hope, so you push that theory to the side. “Your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?!” He looks at you incredulously.

“Oh I didn’t mean that,” you laugh as you walk up to him. You give him a once over after wiping his face for any remaining traces of tears. “All right, you’re good to go.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiles at you before leading the way out.

The walk down the hall to get to the kitchen is short, but it feels like an eternity for the tension to dissipate. Walking shoulder to shoulder, it’s impossible not to think about what just happened— what almost happened. And what about Peter? You hope this birthday won’t make him feel worse, maybe it’ll make him feel—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Everyone shouts in unison as Ned and Michelle release a confetti popper each.

In that moment, Peter grins so widely it’s like he’s forgotten about everything that’s ever gone wrong in his life, and you know this was a good idea after all. As you and him blow out the fifteen candles that adorn the cake, his mind goes blank and doesn’t make a wish. Seeing the dazzling smile you beam at him assures him that he already has everything he wants.

All except for one thing.

So hear me scream

I was too young to understand what it means

I couldn’t wait til I could be seventeen

I thought she lied when she said “take my time to breathe”

Now I wish I could freeze the time at seventeen

The time really flew by, you realize when you glance up at the clock. Peter and Ned should have been back an hour ago. As soon as school finished, the pair disappeared without a word other than a text from Peter saying that something came up with his Stark internship and that it wouldn’t take too long.

Yet here you are still waiting for them four hours later with Michelle, Aunt May, and your family with their dinner having gone cold and the cake still waiting to have its candles lit. Everyone is talking in your living room but you step away at regular intervals to check if they were at your door. You sent both of them a dozen messages and lost count of the amount of times you calls went unanswered. Ned had finally answered one of your calls a little over an hour ago and assured you they should be arriving any minute now. Just as you’re about to call again, your two best friends come tumbling through the front door completely disheveled. Ned has all but collapsed to the floor heaving, and Peter is a whole other story.

“Peter, what the fuck happened?!” His shirt is buttoned wrong, his hair is combed down alright but you can tell it was done in a rush because there are a lot of strays, his hands are battered, and his face looks like it was used as someone’s personal punching bag.

“Language!” your mother shouts from behind you.

“I -It’s nothing!”

“Bullshit.” Your voice is much lower and carries the type of calm that terrifies Peter.

“Language!” Apparently your mother can hear everything.

“That is not nothing!” Aunt May approaches Peter, cupping his face in her hands as he winces in pain. She whispers something in his ear to which he responds to with a nod before they distance themselves a little more to speak in hushed tones. This wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him like this. Ever since Uncle Ben died, you knew Peter was lying to you about something. Ned, Michelle, and Aunt May all seemed to know whatever it was you didn’t and you’re sick of being out of the loop. You wanted to give him the time he needed and trusted that he would tell you, but over two years later, it’s been long enough.

Aunt May sees you coming and shushes Peter. She gives you a sympathetic smile and a hug before leaving the two of you alone.

“Peter what the hell is going on?” You’re whispering, but you sound more pissed than the time you caught Flash stealing Ned’s homework.

“Y/N, please, you have to understand—”

“No,” you snap. Scanning over his face again you can feel your chest cave in a little at the sight of him. “No more lies, Peter.”

“I swear it’s no—”

“Do not say it’s nothing! I’ve been pressing ice packs to your bruises, cleaning your gashes, and I’ve placed too many band-aids on your cuts without asking questions for too long.” You feel the back of your eyes sting and air suddenly seems scarce.

“Y/N, Y/N, shhhhh,” Peter says softly as he wraps his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a comforting hug.

“Peter, what have you been hiding from me for the past two years?” You pull back and look down the hall to the kitchen where everyone is seated at the table, except for May who’s lighting the candles, moving the match from the '1’ to the '7’.  

“Okay… Just promise you won’t freak out,” he says reluctantly as he steps away and returns with his backpack.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, your mind jumps to the most ridiculous conclusions. He and Ned didn’t get themselves in trouble with some sort of drug ring or anything did they? Oh my god, what if they became part of one? What if—

“I’m Spider-Man.”

“Oh, Peter…” You glance down to the red and blue fabric showing through the pocket of his backpack he’s holding open.

“Please understand, I really, really wanted to tell you, because you mean the world to me,” He places a hand on either one of your shoulders. “And I need you in my life, which is exactly why I couldn’t tell you.”

“Peter, you can tell me anything, you know that right?” You don’t mean to sound hurt, although it might be coming out that way.

“Of course, I mean, who else is going to eat Oreos with me at two in the morning?” he chuckles. “I couldn’t find a way to tell you because everyone who knows is in danger. Spider-Man has pissed off a lot of people in the past two years, and too many people already know, I just- I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you; if you got hurt because of me I could never forgive myself.”

Only now do you realize how close in proximity the two of you have become while Peter spoke. You bring your hands up to lower his arms, but it’s like there’s some external force stopping them and they stay fixed at his waist, clinging to the material of his shirt. Your eyes can’t help but trail over his face, taking in all his features like it might the last time you’ll see him— which it very well could be judging by the purple crescent surrounding his left eye, the scratch on his cheekbone, and his split lip.

This moment right here, as painfully familiar as it is, you want to freeze it and live in it forever.

But you also know it has to end at some point so you force your eyes back up to meet his and break the silence before it turns awkward. “Do you know what you’re going to wish for this year?” You mentally slap yourself. Should’ve stuck with the awkward silence.

“Depends on what happens next.” He swallows nervously as his hands subconsciously slide up to your neck where they sweep your hair over your shoulder. When his tongue involuntarily darts out to swipe across his lower lip, you know it’s now or never.

“Happy birthday, Peter,” you whisper, a smile on your lips before you close the distance.

Tags: @coltcas ​

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