#What is says is that I'm stupidly stubborn and I like wasting time on things that don't matter

[vanillaxmochi]

I think it speaks a lot about me that I would rather rename a models Morphs, Bones and Vertices by hand instead of using a plug-in to do it for me

[saltydumplings]

Hi, I’m not really sure how this works but I was wondering if you could write a lil short story/snippet of villain x reporter were villain find reporter following then after a big battle?

thank you in advance!! 💙

Oh my god I did it. I wrote a request for the first time in months, oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god--

Request #29

There was blood on their left shoulder. The villain huffed in annoyance, wiping at the stain with one hand and grimacing when it smudged.

That fight had been unnecessary.

The hero had instigated it - the villain giving them ample opportunity to stand down but their enemy was stubborn. Almost stupidly so. They took one look at the villain and decided that they couldn't possibly go one second longer without punching them in the face.

And, of course, the media would paint it as their fault. Because if the villain so much as breathed anywhere near the city centre then obviously their intentions were nothing short of nefarious. No, the villain didn't need to go grocery shopping at all: those bananas were clearly going to be the foundation for their next evil scheme - crucial some might say.

The villain groaned to themself as they walked down the alleyway, using their clean hand to pinch the bridge of their nose.

So much food had been wasted.

So much damage had been caused and for what?

If they were being honest, they weren't entirely sure if it was worth it anymore. If the cause that had led them to where they were still held out strong enough to reason days like this - destruction like this. Common destruction; everyday, needless, a mere swipe upon the hero's page but an ugly blot upon their own. The villain was supposed to be fighting for change but it seemed that everything they did only made the walls they were trying to tear down stronger. They were enabling the very thing they stood against and all the while they were hurting the people they were trying to save - trying to free from a society that never thought of them twice.

At this point, it was better to simply retire and let things return to the way they were. And, if in their misery they figured out a better way then perhaps they could try again...

The villain came to a sudden stop, wondering if they would truly give in right there and then, only to freeze at the sound of movement behind them. A short, scuffling noise - someone attempting to hide and not doing a very good job of it.

Surely the hero hadn't followed them?

The villain turned about, surveying the empty alley behind them, their gaze quickly honing in on a stack of crates. They waited patiently, silent, watching as their would-be stalker peered out from behind their cover and ducked down twice as fast - a small squeak of realisation echoing off the walls. Even if the villain hadn't seen them, they certainly would have heard that.

They let themself relax somewhat, rationalising that their pursuer was either a civilian or a moron. Perhaps even both...

"You realise that you're not exactly discreet, right?" they said.

There was a pause. A long one.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three," the villain pushed. "Either you come out, or I drag you out. One--"

"No, no! N-No need for dragging!"

The villain felt their brows raising as their stalker revealed themself, quickly springing out from their hiding spot like a startled rabbit. They had been right: civilian and a moron. Though, when it came to members of the press, the villain couldn't really expect much else.

"I-I, um," the reporter stumbled on their words as the villain approached them, hands clutching onto their notepad shakily. "I just had a, er - a f-few questions. I-If that's alright with you, of course..."

Perhaps stubborn was a better word. Tenacious.

The villain had seen the way these people practically hovered around the hero. Had even seen one or two get punched by the crime-fighter out of pure annoyance and yet, still, more persisted to harass them.

None had ever attempted to approach the villain before though. None had ever dared...until now.

They stopped just centimetres away from the other, amused by the way the reporter held their ground even when they were clearly scared out of their mind.

"You get three questions," the villain allowed. "But I won't promise any answers."

The reporter's eyes widened. "W-Wait, only three?" they asked.

"Two now," the villain answered.

A beat.

The reporter floundered, opening and closing their mouth multiple times before hurriedly flicking through their notepad. Clearly they'd had their questions planned out - pages upon pages of them - but now they were having to choose only two.

The villain quirked a brow as they watched, foot starting to tap upon the ground while the seconds ticked by.

"Okay, I- no, no, h-hold on."

The reporter flicked back through their notes again, the villain tolerating it all of about five more seconds before snatching the pad from their hands and holding it out of their reach - the reporter giving a startled squeak before looking up at them with horror.

"G-Give that back," they said.

The villain smirked. "No."

"B-But--"

"But what?"

"I..." the reporter flushed, fingers twitching at their sides. "Could you please just give it back?"

The villain's grin grew sharper. "No. And you have one question left - better choose wisely."

"Wait, but that wasn't- I didn't- i-it--!"

"One question~" the villain chimed.

The reporter settled back into silence. Their gaze flicked between their notepad and the villain that held it, something surprisingly similar to a glare lining their expression. Were they about to...?

They did.

The reporter jumped up and snatched the notepad right from the villain's fingers, darting back immediately and flicking through it with frantic urgency.

Cheeky little--

Where the hell did these people get their courage from?

The villain went to snatch it back but the reporter raised their hand, reading out from the final page in an incomprehensible rush:

"DoyouthinkthatHeroshouldbeheldaccountableforthedamagetheycausewhenfightingyouanddoyoubelievethatthisdamageisnecessarywhenthwartingyourplans?"

The villain stopped. Blinked. "What did you just say to me?"

The reporter swallowed, taking in one steady breath before trying again more slowly. "Do you think that Hero should be held accountable for the damage they cause when fighting you, a-and do you believe that this damage is necessary when thwarting your plans?"

Of all the questions they could have asked, the villain had not expected it to be that. It stunned them: they were so used to people always taking the hero's side that they'd almost forgotten the rush of relief that came with being believed - that little thrill of confidence when you found out you weren't alone.

They paused, eyes wide as they studied the other in a new light. "No," they whispered.

"No?" the reporter questioned. They let themself relax a little - no longer cautious but rather curious.

"No," the villain clarified more strongly. "No: that damage is not necessary. And yes they should be held accountable for it - they shouldn't be allowed to use me as an escape goat for the destruction that they actively cause."

For a moment, the reporter's jaw went slack, fully engrossed in what they were saying. The second the villain stopped though they fumbled about their pockets, quickly fishing out a pen and clicking the lid off - taking a few scribbled notes before staring back up at the villain with shining eyes.

"Anything else?" they asked eagerly.

The villain flushed a little under the attention, and not in a bad way. The more they talked to the reporter the more likeable they became: the villain still thought they were stubborn - foolishly so - but they were beginning to recognise that it was more in a puppy-like way than anything truly annoying; the reporter was cute.

"They'll look for any excuse to attack me," they said, each word a small weight off their chest. "The papers will say that I was the one to initiate but I rarely am - that's just what the government wants you to believe. In fact, I'm sure Hero is instructed to be more reckless purposefully just to paint me in a worse light but that's never been my intention: never has been, never will be."

"I knew it!" the reporter said. Then they blushed when the villain raised a brow at them, ducking their head in a vague attempt to hide behind that tiny notebook of theirs. "I mean, I - I had some, er, speculations..."

The villain hummed. "Good speculations I'd hope."

The red of the reporter's cheeks darkened. "A-Any more comments you'd like to add?" they asked, changing the topic.

The villain had to resist the urge to sigh. Because yes; yes, they did. So many...but they didn't want to dump it all on the reporter at once and run the risk of losing the one person that they'd spoken openly to in years.

"What do you intend to do with this information?" they questioned back. "Do you plan to publish it?"

"W-Well, yes. If that's alright, o-of course." The reporter shuffled a little on their feet, suddenly shy. "Not in any of the major papers though - obviously. I mean, they would never let me... It's for a blog I write online. It's small but I-I like to think that it could grow to something bigger. Something that could, y-you know..."

"Change things?" the villain finished, watching as the reporter gave a small nod. "You want things to change?"

The reporter huffed. "Who doesn't?" they said.

The villain considered that a while. Considered it with a hesitation that they'd never had to deal with before. It was one thing to put themself at risk, it was a whole other thing entirely to then insert someone else into that same mess - to tangle them up in something that they could never get out of.

"How much?" the villain challenged. "How much do you want it?"

A pause.

The reporter swallowed, eyes glancing over the villain's frame in a studious way. "Why do I feel like you're giving me a massive, life-altering choice?"

"Because I am," the villain said simply.

"Oh."

The reporter fell silent again. Their gaze drifted away - focused back on the entrance of the alleyway that they'd followed the villain down before falling once more to stare at the notepad in their hands. They held it just a little tighter, lower lip caught between their teeth as they thought it through.

The villain waited patiently, a small excitement sparking within their chest when the reporter's attention drew back to them.

"More than anything," the other said, finally. "More than I can openly admit."

The other followed their direction without question. "O-Oh, right, yes I-- o-of course!"

The villain nodded. Smiled.

"Alright, then. So be it," they said. "You'll want to put that somewhere safe," they added as an afterthought, gesturing to the notepad in the reporter's hands.

They fumbled to put it away into a bag at their side, the villain watching them carefully as they did it.

"Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?" they asked.

The reporter waved a hand dismissively whilst they struggled with the zip. "What, me? No, no, it - it's all work, work, work. I never really find the time for much else."

"So no one to expect you then?" the villain pursued. "No one you're meant to be seeing?"

"No, I--" The reporter paused, their eyebrows drawing down ever so slightly. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Because..."

The villain took a step forward then, hands reaching out to catch onto their shoulders. They pulled the reporter closer, the civilian's face flushing at the sudden contact - the sudden strong contact.

"I'm planning to enact my first official kidnapping," the villain said, "and I want everything to go as smoothly as possible."

[searenbound]

Bully Kiri the exact same as you write him one day snaps he pins you against a locker while you two were alone in the hall as kiss up your jaw gently "Listen to me baby you gonna tell me how much you love me then I'm gonna take you home tonight then let your body do the talking while I put a pretty baby in your body make you my little house spouse"

That night despite any fight he takes you home and lays you on your bed hand right on your jaw "Tell me you love me" if you don't he'll shake your head "Is that your brain rattling around in their you must be stupid to deny it tell me you love me" when you finally stutter it out he smirks kissing you "That's a good baby" He absolutely ravishes you for hours.

A few weeks later you now attached to his arm like the good baby you are cause he said so and your not stupid enough to against him you run away to the bathroom dropping to your knees throwing up he grab your hair out of the way rubbing your back "awe baby let it all out maybe that's my baby in you telling you their here" a whimper falling from your lips as he kisses you "Don't worry tonight I'll make sure it is" he kisses your head and drags you out if the bathroom

Heavy dub-con warning

So for context look here

God I love how even when he’s attempting to get you to comply he still manages to be him about it.

Is he pressuring you? Yes but only because he knows you want this, you’re just too stubborn for you’re own good. That’s why he has to do all this, you need to understand that no matter how hard you push he won’t budge.

He had tried to be patient and what until you say all the things he did for you with so much love in his heart, but he just couldn’t take it and little stolen touches just wasn’t enough. He needed you and even if you didn’t want to admit it he could tell you’d be lost without him too. He had to speed it up, had to get you to understand your place at his side somehow.

Giving you a baby sounded like the perfect way to get the job done. He stewed on it a while before he decides that on going through with it, maybe he heard a rumor that scared him. Maybe something about someone else planning on snatching you away from him and he just can’t let that happen.

So he keeps an eye on you, gets someone to deliver a secret admirer’s love letter requesting you to meet in that hall and when you get there expecting to let someone down gently you’re pushed up against the lockers. A hand on your waist and his leg wedged between yours while he’s telling you exactly what he’s planning on happening between kisses. You hate it has a strong affect on you, that you really do want him. That somewhere along the lines everything got all twisted and you really did fall for him.

You were determined to ignore it and avoid him though but he was ahead of you. Already waiting with that big toothy smile of his and cooing at you when you look so shocked. Tells you of course he knew you go this way, knows his pretty baby better than anyone else and you should know that!

I’m in love with the idea that while he’s trying to get his confession he switches between overstimulating you and edging you so you have no idea what he’s doing. Came twice? Maybe you deserve another, on second thought no you don’t. Hmm maybe you get to cum now? Nope, oh ok you can cum and here’s another and another and that’s it. Maybe just say it and he’ll let you cum a couple of times on his cock instead? Just say you love him that’s all you gotta do.

And of course you eventually snap and say it after he questions if you got a functioning brain because you don’t use it if your being so stupidly stubborn. He doesn’t waste time either, your legs are pushed up into a mating press and as soon as he’s completely settled in your overly sensitive pussy, your already babbling and cumming from the overwhelming size of him pressing into every spot just right.

He’s so smug that all he gets out of you is his name and little I love you’s

Even more so when you finally accept you belong at his side and that you very well may be pregnant. So excited by the notion that he just has to double check and reconfirm his handy work.

[sunnysviolin]

I'm sorry but I have a desperate need to ask of something...happy Mari lives content...

I'm stealing this for two of my favorite people Muse! You and the lovely @ksenya-and-the-artistic-cucumber Happy birthday dear take some more Mari content for you!! As for you Muse, well you know how much I owe you, so take some okay writing.

So there's a bunch of different ways this could go down, but I think I'm going to go with the idea that Sunny and Mari never have their fight in the first place. 

Mari sees Sunny is losing his passion and his stress is increasing. She sees that he stops sleeping. She sees that she’s pushing him, and before he can push back, she intervenes. 

It’s a really simple question, just a single change. She asks Is everything okay? The answer she gets is not simple. 

She gets back Sunnys stress, his anxiety, his fears of just not measuring up. How could he measure up when he has her for a sister? He couldn’t even consider being better than Mari at something, so all he can hope for is a close second, and he can’t even manage that. Of course, Sunny doesn’t really say any of that, he just cries in her arms and tells her that he isn’t good enough. Mari figures the rest out on her own. 

She holds her little brother tightly to her. Her precious darling little brother, her sundrop, the light in her life. She keeps him close, and she thinks. She thinks, and she thinks, and she thinks, because Mari is a thinker. Mari is a thinker, and Mari is a planner, and all of her plans just got thrown out the window as Sunny has a full on anxiety meltdown in front of her. None of them matter.

Mari cancels their performance four hours before they’re supposed to go on. Her parents are aghast, their friends are confused, and she refuses to say why. Mari isn’t really used to keeping secrets from them or her parents, but it’s Sunny. For him she will keep secrets. Besides, the concert doesn’t really matter does it? What matters now is Mari has to adjust her plans. 

Mari knew her parent’s plans for her. Ivy league, Harvard or Yale, then law school. Become a star lawyer, open your own practice, or become AG. No matter what she had to live up to her great potential, she had to be someone. That’s why she had to be in school every night, that’s why she had to take all these extracurriculars she didn’t even really like all that much. That’s why she had to be the head of every club, why she had to stay late and wake up early. All of this to achieve some unnamed goal of significance. To Be Someone. 

After that night, Mari isn’t sure she wants to be someone anymore. Not if it’s tearing her away from everything she loves. She keeps Sunny’s secret, but she tells Hero hers. She’s always encouraged his secret dreams, and now he take the opportunity to encourage hers. That she is already somebody, at least to him and their friends. To Sunny she is someone. 

Mari and Hero run away together after they graduate. Well, they don’t really. They just sort of do. They tell their respective parents that they in fact aren’t going to the far away prestigious colleges that they were expected to go to. Hero will not be a doctor. Mari will not be a lawyer. They’re staying local, at a tiny local school that has no pomp or circumstance, and, eventually, they are going to open a bakery together after they get their degrees. 

Needless to say neither set of parents is thrilled at this. Mari’s parents are even less thrilled, because she’s taking Sunny with her. 

Sunny needs her. Sunny needs someone who reminds him that he isn’t her shadow, but his own person. That he has talents. That he has skills. If their parents won’t do it, she will. They’re furious, they argue, and for the first time Mari argues right back. 

Yelling at her parents for the first time is a thrilling terror, but at the end she has a packed car, her boyfriend in the driver’s seat, and her brother asleep in the seat behind her. All through the drive to their new apartment she continues to check behind her, a part of her mind so sure that none of this is actually happening. Sunny is a gangly awkward fourteen year old, and as he sleeps he slumps against the window. Watching him rest settles her, and she grabs Hero’s hands and squeezes it. 

As much as she already raised Sunny, actually raising Sunny is a shift. She and Hero work part time jobs to afford college and providing or the three of them. Eventually Sunny convinces her to let him take one too. They’re all tired, and they’re all overworked, but they’re happy. They’re so stupidly happy. 

It takes time, and it takes arguments, and it takes a lot of stubbornness, but her parents eventually accept that she is going to follow her own path. That there isn’t anything in the world that will get her to waste her life just to make them happy. When she graduates from school (valedictorian of course, with Hero as the beaming salutatorian) her parents graduation gift is the promise to help her get a loan for her bakery. 

She and Hero start designs and plans, but they just need one more thing. Together they walk down the street, past statues of religious figures that seem to watch them, and they knock on the bread twins door. Bowen answers, and the couple asks to come in. 

They present their idea to the twins. The four of them together open up a new bakery. The twins initially say no, they want to continue their parents legacy, but Mari and Hero persist. Not only can their parents come in on the bakery, they will finally get out of the grocery store and into their own place. 

Not even a full two years after they graduate, Mari is putting the finishing touches on the first batch of cookies for their store window. She pulls them out of the oven, a sinfully sweet aroma surrounding her. She places the tray on a cooling rack and steps out from the back to look at the store front. 

Bowen and Daphne are carefully arranging loaves of bread in an artful display, while Hero and the kids finish cleaning up. Hero is wiping the glass of the display case to give it a good shine, while Basil and Sunny sit at the counter and watch Kel and Aubrey bicker as they always do. 

It’s not what was expected of her. She knows that the whole world probably thinks she’s wasting her potential. But as she watches Sunny laugh and watch Kel play keep away with the broom from Aubrey, she can’t help but think that this life is far better than any potential for more. 

[rockingrobin69]

For prompts how about eye drops . I'm sorry I'm not good with english

Hi nonny! Thank you for the prompt, I was so happy to get it - and please don't apologize! Eye drops is such a killer idea, I had so much fun with it. This is my first prompt though so I hope it pleases you 💖 here's 700 words for you - a little extra fluffy, I was excited.

“Sit still,” Draco admonished in what had to be the fifteenth time. His hands tightened their grip, mouth set in a tight line, a small huff of exasperation irritating the curl on his forehead. All he got in response was a whimper. “Harry.”

“I can’t,” the face in his hands contorted with the whine. “I can’t, it’s too, I don’t –“

“Just sit still, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Eye things… creep me out,” Harry cried, still squirming. Draco sighed once. Twice. Tried to contain the little bubble of anger in his chest. Failed.

“Well then, the next time you decide to stupidly jump in front of an unknown curse with your shield in half, let this be a reminder for you not to do that!” he pressed one thumb into Harry’s cheek a little too harshly. The look in the green eyes, when they opened marginally, was a bit scared.

“I didn’t mean to do that. I just… you know how I get.”

“Irresponsible,” Draco spat, and possibly a bead of it caught on one of Harry’s ridiculously long eyelashes. “Careless. Impatient.”

“Well, not exactly what I meant, just – OW!”

Draco rolled his eyes and released the bit of Harry’s hair he didn’t actually mean to pull. “Stop being such a baby. It’s only three drops anyway, and it’s not like you don’t deserve it. Honestly, you’d think that Auror training would teach you to veer out of danger’s path, not into it.”

“I wasn’t trying for it. I was actually just running an errand when…” Harry’s voice faltered, and Draco knew why; his own face must have shown just how unbelievably livid he was.

“An errand,” he repeated, wondering if there was smoke coming out of his mouth when he said it again. “An errand.”

“An important one, though,” Harry tried, and now he did open his eyes in full.

“You’re –“ Draco abandoned trying to find the right words and instead went on the attack, seizing the opportunity and pouring quickly into one eye: drip, drip, drip. Harry said nothing, only blinked, maybe a little blindsided. “Are you telling me that this month’s grand act of asinine lunacy was simply due to you being too stubborn not to complete an errand? I – Harry James Potter, you –“

He had to stop his ministrations when Harry grabbed his wrist. Nothing, there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t result in one of them in flames. “Draco.”

“No. I don’t want to hear it.” He couldn’t stand the look in Harry’s one open eye, so sad he had to drop his gaze. Did Harry not know, did he not understand that it wasn’t just his own life he was gambling with? Did he not think of him at all when he –

“Check my pocket.”

“What?”

That was unexpected enough to make Draco look. Harry’s left eye was shut; his right was smiling. “My back pocket. Check it.”

“I only treated your eye, imbecile, your hands are perfectly fine.” Still, Draco was curious, and besides he’d never say no to groping some fine Potter arse, angry or not. His fingers climbed into Harry’s pocket and closed around something solid. A small box. He gasped. “That’s…”

“They called today to say it was ready. I wasn’t going to let some low-life Neo-Death-Eater get in the way of… Draco, this wasn’t about an errand. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, all right? There are so many things I want to do with you, an impossible amount. With you, for you, to you, I want – fuck!”

He must have been referring to the eyedrops; Harry made the tactical error of letting go of his wrist, and Draco didn’t waste the chance to do his other eye. Three drops later he lowered the vial, then pulled Harry’s chin up, watching him blink helplessly.

“That’s no way of doing these things, Potter,” he muttered, shaking his head at the lack of decorum. “Three drops, morning and night, seven days. Do that – no complaining – and then try again. I might even, should I feel so lenient, say yes.”

Harry pulled Draco down to his lap, wrapping two arms around him. He was still blinking a little too fast, but he was smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“That is correct. Now sit still, you absolute goon, so I can kiss you.” This time, Harry listened.

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | SEVEN

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 4,000

warnings: fluff. angst. language. not even sure why i warn for angst anymore this whole story is just angsty af

18+!!! minors stay away!

In the following few weeks, you realized two things. One: Peter Parker was definitely not subtle. The other being that you were definitely in way over your head. There was no denying the stupid butterflies in your stomach anymore, or the way you found yourself expecting his touch before it even came.

It seemed as though the two of you were like magnets; a constant tug gravitating the pair of you back to each other with an unstoppable force. If you weren't together, he was on your mind, and like he could sense you thinking of him he'd be quick to reach out in some way or another. Be it appearing at your side, all happy grins and playful eyes, or calling your phone no matter the time with his stupidly adorable stutter--Peter seemed to think of you just as much as you thought of him.

The more that you thought of him, the more that you wished you didn't. It was terrifying. You wished that you could pull away again, to push him back out of your heart and lock those iron bars tight once more, but your heart had grown selfish and stubborn. It was as if you were the one locked out anymore; the control over your feelings slipping further and further from your clutches with every toothy smile Peter sent your way.

Like a magnet, he held you in place. Oh, to be held by... You slapped a pillow over your face and screamed, holding it so tightly that your nose ached and you couldn't breath. Peter Parker was like a disease. A stupid, all-consuming, utterly infatuating disease of the mind and the spirit.

You knew that you were wasting time, undoubtedly causing yourself to risk being late for school with every minute that passed as you continued to lay in your bed, but you couldn't bring yourself to get up. Already, your mother and father both had knocked at your door on multiple occasions and questioned if you were sick, and now you were regretting saying no. It would have been so easy to avoid him if you'd just played hookie.

But, with midterms in the near future, you knew it wasn't the best idea. The realization had come to you in the night. A moment so insignificant, so mundane, but it had been as if a switch were flipped in your mind. A light was turned on, so to speak, and illuminated all the thoughts and emotions you'd been so tirelessly repressing.

Talking on the phone with Peter was like a drug, and talking on the phone to him at night was a dangerous game. Under the dull light of a crescent moon and the ridiculous teddy-bear night light that was plugged into your wall, a lingering remnant of your sister's presence in the space, your inhibitions were always low. With sleepiness your walls were always lowered, and he'd unknowingly put a fatal crack in the foundation.

You rolled onto your stomach on your bed, kicking your feet through the air like a little kid as you fought back the grin that always seemed to worm its way across your lips when you were talking to him. "So, how do you like Ned and MJ?" Peter asked, and you could almost picture him mirroring your position as you heard the quiet rustle of blankets over the line. A little giggle bubbled out of your mouth at the thought.

What a sight that would be, Peter kicking his legs to and fro like a school girl in love. "They're cool. I kinda like that MJ doesn't even pretend to hide the fact that she thinks I'm weird. I don't--I don't know, it's refreshing I guess. Ned's sweet." you rambled, and it was the truth.

Ned and MJ were easily slipping into the fortress that shielded your heart with every passing day. Somehow, it wasn't as terrifying as you'd expected it to be. Perhaps that was because they didn't harbor a secret identity with which they risked their lives every single night, or maybe it was just because you'd come to realize that letting people in wasn't so bad. Not everyone was going to die on you.

Michelle Jones really didn't pretend not to think you were weird, not even a little bit. Her blunt and honest nature was a nice change from the quiet stares that seemed to follow your every move; MJ wasn't much for staring. Rather, she boldly told you what she was thinking without any shred of doubt.

And Ned, sweet Ned Leeds, was like a puppy personified. Always happy, always smiling, and always waiting to offer you compliments when you approached. You couldn't remember the last time someone had dared compliment your hair, your smile, or your outfits. Ned made it impossible to feel anything but comfort and joy in his presence, even his awkward nature was endearing.

"I'm glad." Peter hummed, "They really like you. To be honest, though, I kinda like it when it's just us. Maybe I should have waited a little longer to share you."

There was a pang in your chest at his words. Peter had been subtly flirting with you for days now, but this was more direct. He didn't have to come right out and say it for his implications to come across loud and clear, and that magnetic pull grew stronger.

So strong, in fact, that you murmured back, "I like it when it's just us, too."

If you had just kept your mouth shut, maybe he wouldn't have been so bold as to say, "Not gonna let them steal your heart from me, are you?"

The words were right at the tip of your tongue. Your heart was screaming, never! Nobody could ever steal me away from you, Peter! Yet, your mind was racing with a million and one horrible thoughts that made you feel as though your mouth was full of mud.

The silence between yourself and Peter grew thick as it drew on, no words escaping your lead-like lips. The voice in your brain, the one that sounded like your sister yet you knew was not her, was ringing in your ears. How could you ever fall in love, when she never could? How could you give your heart away, when she never had the chance?

You took that chance away from her. You stole it. This thing, whatever the weird force between the two of you was, was all stolen time, stolen opportunities, and stolen lives.

"Good night, (Y/N). I'll see you at school?"

You whispered, "Yes." The line went dead, and you felt cold.

Those simple words from Peter, with meaning and intention that was far from simple, were all it took to send the walls, bars, and barbed wire around your heart crumbling into nothing. With no protection, no barrier between yourself and the dangers of everyone else, your mind was working on overdrive. It would have been so easy to let him in, had that voice remained quiet, and yet you were steadily building those bricks back into place.

Now, all that was left to do was to steal your heart back. When had he managed to take it from you? Had he snuck in during the night, slipping through the strategically placed cracks and weak points he'd created, and stole away with it undetected? Had he taken it that first night, without you ever noticing?

As you finally released the pressure over the pillow on your face, sucking in a shaky breathe and letting all the heavy things crash over you again, tears burned your eyes. You didn't want to push Peter away. You didn't want to be the reason he was hurt, upset, or angry--you weren't ready to be the villain in his story.

"Mom?" you called out, knowing she was lingering close by.

Proving you correct, the door to your bedroom cracked open only seconds later and your mother's worried eyes fell upon your blinking ones. She definitely saw the troubled look on your face, the tears in your eyes, yet she held back from mentioning any of it as she asked, "Are you sick, honey?"

You nodded, the lump in your throat aiding your act as you croaked, "Yes. I don't feel good."

She frowned a little, knowing that you were bending the truth of the matter. Your mother was perceptive, and with the emotion all over your face, it easy for her to know that this wasn't some stomach bug or sore throat. To your relief, though, she resigned, "I'll call you out of school for the day. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Tomorrow, you could be the villain. For today, though, you were content to avoid your troubles and wallow in your self pity. At least this way you had some time to slip back into your stoic, cold demeanor before you had to face him. Time to prepare yourself to be alone again, because you knew that once you pushed Peter Parker away, Ned and MJ would be quick to follow him.

Sleep didn't come for you like you hoped it would. Well, it did, but then you found yourself dreaming of Peter and woke with a start. School had started an hour ago, and already there were a flurry of confused and increasingly alarmed messages from him lighting up your phone screen. Even though you couldn't hold back from reading them, you locked it before you found yourself replying as if on autopilot.

Pete: are you late

Pete: i'm at your locker

Pete: hello?

Pete: i'm going to class... see you there?

Pete: are you okay? you said you'd be here

Pete: at least let me know you're aldkhdkfj

You spent the day in your room, ignoring Peter and ignoring the world. Occasionally your mother would crack open your door to check on you, fussing over feeling your forehead despite the fact that you both knew you didn't have a fever, and tittering little comments about getting rest and staying hydrated. She knew you weren't sick, yet you were grateful she didn't try to pry.

As much as you wanted to tell her all of the things that were on your mind, the reasons that you were upset, you couldn't. You couldn't tell her all of the awful things you were thinking, and see the way her face would contort in anguish over you. You certainly couldn't listen to her telling you that it wasn't your fault, you weren't wrong for liking a boy, and your sister would want you to be happy. Even if you knew, in some deep part of your brain, that it was true.

Pete: got my phone taken in calculus sorry

Pete: I'm at lunch now, are you okay?

Pete: are you sick?

Pete: like... actually sick?

Peter really was relentless. You wondered how long it would take for him to catch onto what you were doing, or if he would at all. Would he understand why you suddenly gave him the cold shoulder? Would he understand, and be okay when you pushed him away again?

Pete: I'm in speech now.

Pete: we got the class to work on the speech and you're not here

Pete: not that we could do much anyways since you're so stubborn but still

Pete: okay what is going on

Pete: (Y/N)

Pete: please talk to me

Reading all of his messages kept the ache in your chest alive, stopping the numbness from creeping back in. You wished you could put your phone down, turn it off even, but it was like a cruel an addicting game to read each message as it arrived. You found yourself watching the little three dots as he typed another message eagerly, even if he was far from happy.

When school ended, he called. You let it ring each time, watching his name scroll across your screen over and over again until it ended. Once, twice, three times--he finally stopped calling, not leaving a voicemail.

For awhile, you wondered if that was it. Was he done? Had he caught on? Had he figured you out just as easily as he always seemed to do? Had Peter given up?

Pete: i know what you're doing

Pete: i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable

Pete: we can just be friends if that's what you want

It wasn't what you wanted, and that was the problem. You didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. Well, you didn't want to just be friends with him. You wanted to know what his touch felt like when it was deliberate and welcoming, not the fleeting and curious brushes of his skin on yours. To be held by him, to taste his lips, to hold his heart in your hands like he already held yours--you wanted so much more than friendship with Peter, and that made you a thief and a fraud.

You: that's not what i want

You were weak. A weak, cowardly idiot is what you were, and you threw your phone on your bed with a groan as you realized what you'd done. The voice in your mind whispered insults, taunting you for being so easily broken.

Pete: what do you mean

You: i don't want to be friends with you Peter

Pete: oh

One simple word, and you realized he had taken that in a completely different way than you had meant it. Yet, you didn't correct him. You didn't explain that you meant you didn't want to just be friends. Maybe this was your chance--an easy way to kick him outside your walls without having to see it firsthand.

The chance didn't last long. A quiet knock sounded on your window, and your heart froze in your chest as you tried to sink deeper into your bed. It was the wind, you told yourself, until the knock sounded again and slightly louder. You could see the shadow on your floor out of the corner of your eye, and you buried your face into your pillow to block it out. If you ignored him, he would go away, and this would all be over.

After a few more knocks, it was silent for awhile, and you tempted a look at the floor only to frown at the sight of the shadow missing. He was gone, and you were alone again. Your lip quivered at the thought; what had you done? It was a mistake. This was a mistake.

You didn't want to push him away. You wanted him to hold your heart. You wanted Peter Parker as your friend, as more than a friend, hell, as anything as long as it was with you. But now? Going back on your word and dragging him back in again would be pathetic. He didn't deserve such treatment, especially not from you.

So, you pulled your pillow back over your face and let the tears fall. Your hot breath burned your eyes and made you feel sticky and gross, but you didn't care one bit. It felt cathartic to cry, like returning to a familiar place you'd been skirting around for ages. Crying over Peter was different than crying over your sister; the hurt was different, but one thing was the same: both were all your fault.

"Go away, mom." you whined, barely hearing the sound of your door unlatching over your muffled sniffles. It creaked further open, and you groaned, pressing the pillow harder onto your face, "Mom, please, I just want to be alone."

A throat cleared, and you froze. That wasn't your mother, the voice was deeper. The sound was still too light to be your father's, though, and that left one option that made your blood run cold. He didn't--did he?

He did. Peter pried the pillow out of your hands, all red cheeks and sad eyes as he stared at you in a sullen silence. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered, "Why are you pushing me away?"

You blinked at him, too paralyzed by the sight of his fluttering eyelids and pouting lips to speak. It must have been a sight to see you like that, your face red and blotchy, streaked with tears and snot that you'd been too lazy to wipe away. He didn't look away from your eyes, though, gazing into them with an intensity that dared you to look away.

Sensing that you weren't going to speak, he pressed on, "(Y/N), what is going on? I don't--It's okay if you don't like me back, I can deal with that. I want to be your friend, though. I thought you wanted to be mine, too."

Voice scratchy, you muttered, "I don't."

Something changed in him, and suddenly Peter was raking a hand through his hair as he frowned deeply. You wanted to smooth the crease between his brows, but you felt frozen. He was angry; he was angry with you, and he didn't hold back as he snapped, "That's bullshit, and you know it. If you didn't want to be friends, then why did you make that deal? Why did you let me make a complete fool of myself just to get your attention? Why did you let me introduce you to my friends? Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not!" you yelped, sitting up frantically and wiping at your face, finally. "I'm not lying, Pete!"

He threw his head back at the nickname, a sigh of exasperation forcing its way from his lips, nostrils flared. "I don't get you, (Y/N). I don't get you at all." he growled, facing you again with a heavy brow.

You gripped your blankets tightly, bunching them around your waist as you blinked at him with wide eyes. "I don't want to just be your friend, Peter!" you burst, "I don't want to just be your friend, and I don't know why. You make me feel all these things that terrify me, but I keep chasing after you and whatever those things are! It was so easy being alone, okay? Then suddenly you came swinging into my life and made everything so--so complicated!"

Your mother's face peered into your room, eyes blown wide in surprise, but the moment you glanced at her she backed away with a bitten smile and you flushed. You didn't get the chance to dwell on the fact that she'd been eavesdropping, though, because Peter sat on the edge of your bed and bit the inside of his cheek, blinking at you with teasing eyes.

"So, you like me?"

Eyes narrowed, you grumbled, "Are you really going to make me say it, Pete? After all of that?"

A sly grin stretched across his lips, cheeks puffing out adorably and making you bite your own to keep from grinning too. He tutted, raising his ruffled brow as he jabbed, "After everything else today? I think it's the least you could do."

You were screwed. His fingertips barely caressed the backs of your knuckles, and you shakily grabbed them before he pulled away again. "I like you, jerk." you mumbled, screwing your eyes shut as you felt your face burn in embarrassment.

Peter just chuckled, squeezing your hand as you felt your bed shift under his weight. "I don't want to just be your friend, either." his breathe fanned over your cheek, and your eyes snapped open to find his face closer than ever. If you just turned, ever so slightly, his lips would brush your own... He kissed your cheek softly, backing away with a tiny smile that you matched. "I like you a lot. Probably more than like, really."

"That scares me." you whispered, eyes still latched onto his, "Peter, you scare me."

He took a long moment to answer, weighing heavily the words he would utter next, before finally telling you, "You scare me, too, but I think it's worth it."

A gentle tapping at your door crashed through the moment, both of your faces burning a deep red as you turned to face your mother's sheepish smile. "Sorry, sorry, don't mind me--"

"Mom!" you wailed, slapping your hands over your face in mortification as she stealthily slipped into your room and dropped a box of condoms onto your dresser before racing away again. "Oh, I can't believe she--Mom! Did you really have to do that?"

Peter was laughing boisterously, head thrown back and eyes shut, though you could tell he was flustered too from the cherry red color that creeped down from his face and under his shirt. As humiliated as you were by your mother's actions, you couldn't help but to feel a little grateful for the interruption. The intensity, the tension in the air, had disappeared with the intrusion, and things felt a little bit lighter again.

You flopped back onto your bed, still pouting over the spectacle, as Peter breathed out, "That's so something Aunt May would have done, too."

At least you weren't alone in the embarrassing family department, you thought to yourself as Peter threw himself down beside you. She meant well, obviously, but did she really think that you and Peter were going to go from admitting you liked each other to ripping each other's clothes off in one night? Well, you were eighteen--maybe she had a bit of a reason to be so hasty.

"Do you think it's worth it?" Peter questioned, and you turned your head to face him, trying to ignore the close proximity of his face to your own. "Liking me?"

You chewed at your lip, listening for that voice in your head that had suddenly gone silent. "Yeah, yeah I do." you responded, and his face split in a blushing smile. You did think it was worth it, because being with him reminded you of all the good feelings you missed out on when he wasn't around. "I just wish we could have been like this before. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I'm stealing her life."

He grew serious in an instant, eyebrows furrowing as he stated, "I don't." At the sight of your confusion, he continued, "I don't wish we met before. Can you honestly say that you're the same person you were before?"

"No."

He nodded, "Exactly. Stuff like that... It changes you. I would know, remember? You wouldn't be the you that I like, and if Uncle Ben were here maybe I wouldn't be who you like, either."

You had to admit, he had a point. "I guess so." you pondered aloud.

"You're not stealing her life, either, (Y/N). She would have wanted you to be happy, to do all the things she never got to. It took me a long time to stop thinking that way, too, but I did. It wasn't your fault, and you can't miss out on stuff just because of her." Peter advised, and you swallowed down the lump that was growing steadily in your throat, "She didn't give up her life for you to stop living yours."

Fuck, Peter really knew exactly what to say. You, however, were at a loss for words. He said all of the things that you'd needed to hear for so long, so perfectly, and it rocked you to your core. How did he know just what you needed to hear? The answer was simple--because he knew you, and he knew how you were feeling. He knew, because he had lived it.

Changing the subject, you asked, "So, what do we do now?"

You didn't have to explain for him to understand, and he swallowed thickly, "Do you... will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah. That might be worth it."

He scoffed, "Might be? Forget it, I don't want you to be my--"

"I want to be your girlfriend, Pete!" you cut him off, laughing loudly. "I really, really want to." So, maybe you lied when you said that Peter made things complicated. In fact, Peter made things incredibly easy--and that made it worth it.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony @cherthegoddess @justsomebodyweird

[commander-yinello]

Hey Juzen/ drabble goddess! If your taking requests would you be up for writing an angsty Juzen drabble but with a happy ending (I'm a sucker for angst lol). If not thank you and I hope you're in good health 😊

Hey anon, thank you for being so sweet! <3333 Sorry for the wait, I had some deadlines to wrap up before I allowed myself to dive into my favorite ship ;). I wasn’t sure what kind of angst you wanted, so I hope below is okay!

The radio alarm cared little for how groggyZen felt when it woke him up. Zen groaned and turned around, already a sillyjoke on the tip of his tongue, his hands about to reach out and poke his lover.Just a few moments to themselves, before they headed into the grind of theworkday.

He was faced with an empty side of the bedinstead. Instantly the peace he had known shattered and the memories of whathappened in the past week crashed down upon him. The party. Zen insisting ondriving. The other drunken driver. The car accident. The hospital. Jumin.

Zen got up so fast his head spun. Therewasn’t really anything stopping him from running out of the house with just hispajamas on. Nothing, except his friends.

“Eatsomething Zen!”

Undoubtedly that’s what Jaehee would say ifshe was here, Zen knew. It had taken all of her stubbornness and the others tomake him go home so he could sleep. Guilt washed over him, how could he haveslept so long when Jumin was…

He couldn’t even say it in his head.

He dragged himself out of bed, throwing onwhatever clothes he found first in the cupboard.

The kitchen was so empty. Two mugs withdried coffee occupied on the kitchen table. Zen had spotted them first thingwhen he came home, yet couldn’t convince himself to clean it up. As he pickedup the black mug with a silver rim, he imagined feeling Jumin’s warmth wherehis hand would cover the cup. Holding the cup instead of the handle so he couldfeel if it was the right temperature to drink.

Stop it, Zen thought, these thoughts are so pointless. But it made him so aware that hehadn’t been alone for a long time now. Not like this, not without knowing wherethe other was. Not since they got their own apartment. How many years had itbeen, two? Three?

Toast was easy and quick. He put two sliceson a plate and sat down by the table, knowing he should add something. Hisphone was next to the plate, completely silent.

That scared him. The RFA was never thisquiet.

Elizabeth announced her presence near hislegs with a soft mewl and Zen smiled. He picked her up, white hairs ticklinghis face. It reminded him how easily that would have set him off into acoughing, sneezing, cursing fit. To think it was a year ago when Juminsuggested that Zen try a treatment designed to remove allergic reactions. How theyhad argued because it was stupidly expensive. And Zen finally caving and acceptingJumin paying because even Zen admitted it would help him in his future careerif he had to work with animals, being able to go anywhere in his dailyactivities without carrying antihistamine. And at the end of the day, Zen knewhe would die for Jumin’s bright smile when he saw the two of them loungingtogether.

The memory of his smile hurt, his lungssuddenly lacking air. Zen held Elizabeth a little tighter, causing her tostruggle and jump out of his arms. He watched her leave, tail high and eyesscanning, looking for her favorite dad who wasn’t there.

Of course, he could take care of Elizabethnow, Zen knew. But there was so much of him in her. Did keeping her mean hecouldn’t let go? Would giving her away go against Jumin’s wishes? What would Juminwant?

Stopit stop it stop it, Zen repeated, pressing his palmsagainst his eyes as if he could stop the tears that way. A futile effort,because he knew even without Elizabeth, he couldn’t forget him.

Jumin was in every aspect of his life. Hewas in the posters of Zen he hung up in the living because he liked them somuch. In the stacks of contracts neatly stacked on the desk. In the fancy inkpens because he didn’t like the feel of ballpoints. In the bottle of white wineJumin wanted to open on Zen’s birthday. In the handmade needlepoint pillow withElizabeth’s image on it that Jumin used to taunt Zen with a long time ago. Inthe photos of Zen’s secret place where they settled their differences. In past chatroomsand at parties with endless arguments and silly fights and obsessive bickeringthat made it obvious for everyone except them how they truly felt towards eachother. Jumin was in everything.

But notin your future. The last cruel jab of his mindfinally broke him. The tears he’d desperately tried to hold back ran theircourse onto his hands. Zen let out a heavy sob, hating how easily he sunkwithout his love around.

Gripping onto anger was better than thinkingof the pain. He cursed life and fate for letting him find love in someone henever expected only to have Zen lose them again. He cursed himself for notseeing the drunk driver sooner. He cursed his rapid healing, leaving himhealthy and alone. And he cursedhimself for fueling his pointless grief and for wasting time. Why the fuck am I still here?! Sorryeveryone, but I can’t eat right now.

In the midst of him swearing at himself andgetting up from the chair, his phone rang. Zen’s heart sunk, the beating in hisstomach loud while he picked up. All he could do was listen when he heard Yoosung’svoice on the other end of the line.

“Zen, hurry!”

Zen was already flying out the door.

***

Jumin looked like shit. The pale hospitallight made his complexion even more unflattering, and the CEO-to-be had bagsunder his eyes. He nearly disappeared into the white bed with white pillows andwhite blankets surrounding him. Yet, without tubes and needles sticking out ofhis skin, he looked so much better. The feeling of relief was so strong, Zendidn’t even wait for the nurse to close the curtains before he kissed him.

Jumin chuckled weakly. “Hyun, you lookexhausted.”

“You’re one to talk,” Zen retorted, graspingJumin’s bandage-wrapped hand and refusing to let go as he sat on the side of Jumin’sbed. All the panicked thoughts of the morning were gone, but the light fearremained.

“Did you sleep at all?” Jumin asked. Thisman knew him too well.

“I did yesterday. I would have beenhere for days by your side, had the rest not forced me to go home. Yoosung isoutside, he checked up on you this morning.”

“Good. I’m glad they have some commonsense.” Jumin scooted closer to Zen, grunting from his sore body. No doubt worrymust have crossed Zen’s face, for he spoke up again. “My love, don’t worry. Thedoctors said I’m recovering faster than they expected.”

“I know,” Zen said. He let go of Jumin’shand so he could lie down next to him, glad for sturdy hospital beds. “Just… staywith me as long as possible.”

Jumin kissed his forehead, smiling. “Youdon’t even have to ask.”