#anyway so yeah i ended up having to make a phone call to a mental health center that provides inpatient/outpatient services

[solpng]

good evening beautiful phone app ppl i am back

[youmearepeaches]

my total admiration for nurses and caretakers. I’ve spent a couple of days taking care of my grandma because my aunt and mom are on holidays and I ended up crying out of frustration

[webslingingslasher]

Begin Again

an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)

Word Count: 24K

Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.

Breakups suck.

That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule? 

Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else. 

You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.

You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’  

She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips. 

“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-” 

“Why do you have a lighter?” 

Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“

The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.

It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours. 

A supercut of every moment. 

You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay. 

Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called. 

“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?” 

Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close. 

“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.” 

You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..” 

You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.” 

You snort, “for breaking my heart?” 

Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.” 

Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy. 

Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements. 

A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall. 

For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed. 

Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks. 

Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere. 

You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion. 

“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?” 

Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.” 

“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.” 

Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?” 

Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve. 

“Six weeks, starting today.” 

You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan. 

“Six weeks.” 

It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold. 

WEEK ONE.

Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path. 

“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.” 

“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”

“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.” 

You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again. 

If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen. 

“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?” 

A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.” 

For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there. 

Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying. 

You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face. 

“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?” 

“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.” 

You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call. 

“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-” 

Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second. 

“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.” 

Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective. 

He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt. 

Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.” 

Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.” 

It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back. 

Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts. 

You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent. 

“Sleepy?” 

Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join. 

“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?” 

Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.” 

Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.

“Do me a favor?” 

“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.  

“Make sure he gets home for me.” 

Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores. 

The birds were screaming the earth back awake. 

At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable. 

There’s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.” 

“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.” 

She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it. 

“I think… I think I’m doing okay.” 

Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.” 

After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea. 

Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen. 

You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?” 

“Noon thirty.” 

Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself. 

Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines. 

Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”  

You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily. 

“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.” 

You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?” 

“Have you ever-” 

Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues. 

“Who’s-” 

“Did you-” 

You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door. 

“What do you want, penis?” 

Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies? 

Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes. 

“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.” 

Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot. 

“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-” 

The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.” 

You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.

“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-” 

“Is that Peter B. Parker?” 

Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin. 

The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew. 

“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.” 

Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying. 

“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.” 

She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again. 

“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!” 

You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately. 

Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?” 

You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.” 

His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.” 

You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite. 

“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…” 

Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now. 

“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.” 

His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.” 

Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.” 

It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor. 

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever. 

“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.” 

Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection. 

Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity. 

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.

Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good. 

On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat. 

“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?” 

Deny till death. 

“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.” 

Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”

It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth. 

You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.” 

Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.” 

Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite. 

“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?” 

You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings. 

“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.” 

Natalie Greene knows three things to be true. 

One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet. 

“What if you talked to him?” 

Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?” 

Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet. 

“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.” 

You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it. 

“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.” 

She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline. 

“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.” 

Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.

WEEK TWO.

Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school. 

Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out. 

“Hey.” 

You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change. 

“How are you doing?” 

You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled. 

“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.” 

Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?” 

Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage. 

“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around. 

“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.” 

Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?” 

You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.” 

You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!” 

This was it. 

This was your worst nightmare. 

Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop. 

“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together. 

Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat. 

“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?” 

Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath. 

“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be. 

You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death. 

Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.  

It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out. 

You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales. 

When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb. 

“I, um, I still have those cookies?” 

Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much. 

You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you. 

Tonight, you were full of surprises. 

“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.” 

You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding. 

You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago. 

You do a double take, five months? 

He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst. 

You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door. 

Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall. 

“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.” 

While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.” 

Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look. 

“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.” 

You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him. 

“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle. 

“Harder,” you test it. 

“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good. 

“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier. 

“Harder, don’t be so weak!”

He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls. 

You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow. 

“Fucking!” 

“Piece!”

“Of!”

“Shit!” 

You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?” 

You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.” 

Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit. 

The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter. 

Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever. 

“You’re looking at me funny.” 

You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid. 

“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.” 

Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.” 

It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.” 

You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind. 

“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more. 

“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’” 

There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.

Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much. 

“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it. 

“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?” 

No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible. 

Still, you find yourself agreeing. 

“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.” 

It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.

“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.” 

Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’. 

“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively. 

You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe. 

Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that. 

“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up. 

For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great. 

WEEK THREE.

Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips. 

“Let’s fuck some shit up.” 

Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy. 

It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?” 

You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer. 

It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him. 

“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch. 

It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone. 

 May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered. 

“Hi, May. Is Peter home?” 

She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better. 

“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.” 

You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves. 

You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary. 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”

Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.” 

You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity. 

“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.” 

May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.” 

The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently. 

“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!” 

You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick. 

You don’t think you could ever love again. 

Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not. 

“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at. 

Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock. 

“I’m sure.” Because, you really are. 

Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did. 

It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt. 

A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.” 

Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.

Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours. 

For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s. 

You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”

You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it. 

“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”

The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.

“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.” 

Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows. 

“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too. 

You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.” 

You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.” 

Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time. 

Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.” 

Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours. 

He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him. 

“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.” 

Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”

For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.

Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.

“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.” 

The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less. 

“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen. 

He would send you things he found funny. 

Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny. 

“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification. 

‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’ 

You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.” 

“Have fun on the trip!” 

A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing. 

Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.

“Hi.” 

Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along. 

“Okay, okay, so what did she say?” 

Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate. 

Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.” 

You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.” 

Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary. 

“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass. 

“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus. 

He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you. 

“Is that a good thing?” 

You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off. 

“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step. 

“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement. 

“And very nice curls.” 

“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.” 

Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought. 

“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.” 

You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue. 

“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place. 

“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started. 

You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.

“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream? 

It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing. 

It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer? 

What are you doing?

His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission. 

You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him. 

With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect. 

You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do. 

You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him. 

You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner. 

In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get. 

All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.

He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt. 

Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right. 

Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life. 

Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth. 

“Oh, wow!” 

Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.

Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!  

“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?” 

Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.

“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart. 

Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-

“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!” 

It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling. 

“Are you gonna hide from me forever?” 

If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.” 

He’s perfect.

“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”

You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.

It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.” 

May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips. 

It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave. 

You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.

“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.

“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like. 

“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror. 

“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.” 

Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.” 

“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner. 

“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue. 

“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him? 

“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself. 

“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.” 

The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him. 

Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk. 

You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t. 

Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare. 

“Butter, please?” 

You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit. 

“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard. 

“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.” 

Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.” 

You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human. 

“Oh? I thought after-” 

Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.” 

May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?

Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks. 

“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.” 

Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks. 

“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?” 

You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable. 

“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.” 

May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.” 

You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?” 

A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.” 

“Scars don’t.” 

Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?” 

May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon. 

“They do.” 

WEEK FOUR

Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that. 

You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk. 

Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning? 

“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?” 

The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.” 

Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.

“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.” 

“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him. 

“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.” 

You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?” 

“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished. 

“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.” 

Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.

“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.” 

A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school. 

“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation. 

“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.” 

“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.” 

You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.” 

“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy. 

“You’re in denial.” 

Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.” 

You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks? 

And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass? 

Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak. 

You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.” 

Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks. 

How long has he liked you? 

It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart. 

“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.” 

“But was it worth it?” 

Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?” 

Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?” 

You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever. 

If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble. 

It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same. 

“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer. 

“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown. 

“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.” 

“Can’t is a funny word choice.” 

“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.” 

Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.” 

You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that. 

“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea. 

“Break up with me.” 

Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?” 

“You said I don’t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick. 

“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.” 

“No.” 

“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.” 

“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation? 

You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”

“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not. 

A laugh, “then break up with me.” 

You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do. 

Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.” 

Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.” 

It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.” 

Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?

If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe. 

“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it. 

You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.” 

Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.” 

You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.” 

A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.” 

It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns. 

“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”

You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself. 

Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again. 

“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.

Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart. 

This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s. 

It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it? 

It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor. 

It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more? 

Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t. 

You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door. 

It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power. 

Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you. 

If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?

Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers. 

When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you. 

“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you. 

You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?” 

Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned. 

“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice. 

Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one. 

“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.  

Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him. 

“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out. 

You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling. 

“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you’re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out. 

You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced. 

“Do you see where I’m sitting?” 

Peter nods, “I do.” 

Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.” 

You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?

“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit. 

“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this? 

“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it. 

“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind. 

You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”

“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.” 

He has a very fair point. 

“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.” 

You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want? 

“How do you know I don’t want this?” 

“Because this isn’t you.” 

You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.” 

“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.” 

Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine. 

“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?

“You mean when you had a boyfriend?” 

Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?” 

Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever. 

“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?” 

You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him. 

You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls. 

“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.” 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” 

He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you. 

Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too? 

“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind. 

“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.” 

Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?” 

“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks. 

“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.” 

Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.

He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful. 

The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter? 

Would it feel like an agonizing death? 

Would your wings ever be patchable again? 

Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing? 

It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry. 

Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t. 

Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it. 

“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.” 

Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading. 

It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object. 

You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.

It’s Peter’s fault. 

“Because you made me want to.” 

WEEK FIVE. 

It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.

“Good morning.” 

You nod your head, “penis.” 

And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed. 

You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks. 

It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works. 

3:02, you hear his window. 

3:04, your eyes finally get heavy. 

3:07, you’re dozing off. 

3:10, you’re asleep. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow. 

Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest. 

If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked. 

“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.” 

Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.

"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."

Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.

“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”

When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands. 

He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed. 

“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.

“Peter.” You need his focus on you.

He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work. 

Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly. 

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time. 

“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.” 

“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit. 

“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst. 

“You passed out on me last night.” 

Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.” 

You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex. 

Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?” 

“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?” 

“I think another water and some advil might kill me.” 

“Perfect, coming right up.” 

Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.” 

Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.” 

Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes. 

“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.” 

You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart. 

“Guess we’re twinsies now.” 

If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused. 

“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products. 

“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them. 

“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing. 

“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth. 

“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed. 

“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter. 

You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him. 

“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.” 

It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds. 

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” 

Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”

“Sure. Go shopping for me.” 

You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion. 

Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high. 

A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is. 

It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard. 

Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress. 

Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy. 

“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down. 

No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right. 

“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him. 

“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree. 

“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.” 

Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t. 

“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.” 

“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good. 

He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man. 

“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way. 

“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man. 

You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”

 Now or never.

You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him. 

Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours. 

You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold. 

You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself. 

You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk. 

Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss. 

Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”

There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows. 

“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much. 

“No.” 

He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing. 

“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you. 

Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.

“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you. 

“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?” 

You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?” 

“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter. 

You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth. 

“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him. 

“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm. 

“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.” 

“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.” 

And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it. 

“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.” 

No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated. 

When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening. 

WEEK SIX.

You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.” 

You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused. 

You think you broke him. 

“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible. 

“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it. 

It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore. 

“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.” 

She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”

“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.” 

Well, when she puts it like that… 

“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did. 

“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.” 

“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.” 

You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.” 

You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.” 

You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip. 

Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months. 

When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself. 

When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call. 

Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too. 

And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined. 

When he stumbled up the steps. 

When he hit his head with his locker.

When he stepped on his glasses. 

When he was tackled in flag football. 

When he tripped over his shoelace. 

When he got glue in his hair. 

When he winced while dissecting a frog. 

When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind. 

When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it. 

When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired. 

When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back. 

“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying. 

It’s worth it. 

“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.” 

Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back. 

Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel. 

Step two: See above. 

There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do. 

One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt. 

A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly. 

“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.” 

“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?” 

May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it. 

“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay. 

A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.” 

You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts. 

Is this an asshole move? Yes. 

Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly. 

Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that. 

“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?” 

You hear something drop inside his apartment. 

“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?” 

A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.” 

Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.” 

There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it. 

“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.” 

Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know. 

“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.” 

You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-” 

“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it. 

But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet. 

“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?” 

Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed. 

“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.” 

“Did you just call me a normy?” 

“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.” 

There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it. 

But it’s all in the timing. 

“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.” 

“Miserable? What, about the breakup?” 

“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference. 

You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him. 

But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday. 

You’re in love with Peter and only Peter. 

“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.” 

Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”  

He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no. 

“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him. 

Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate. 

You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened. 

But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite. 

“Do you still like me?” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-” 

“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm. 

“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.” 

Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness. 

“Can you call me sweetheart?” 

“Is that the one you like?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

It’s so much sweeter than you imagined. 

You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting. 

May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone. 

Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company. 

Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were. 

“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo. 

“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much? 

But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day. 

You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter. 

May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you. 

Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.” 

“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them. 

“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.” 

“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think. 

“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn. 

Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last. 

“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.” 

May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?” 

“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.” 

Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet. 

“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck. 

“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.” 

“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.” 

“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.” 

Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention. 

“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention. 

“You said I was never properly loved.” 

Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-” 

“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.” 

Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-” 

“If you’d be my boyfriend.” 

You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.” 

Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever. 

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!” 

“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.” 

“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.” 

It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs. 

“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-” 

“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand. 

“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.” 

Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either. 

It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter. 

You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard. 

‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night. 

Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies. 

Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies. 

Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies. 

You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks. 

After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling. 

But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you. 

“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.” 

A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-” 

“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.” 

“I don’t hate you anymore.” 

“Spoiler alert, you never did.” 

You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug. 

“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?” 

“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.” 

“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.” 

The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor. 

And you watched love begin again. 

“Anything for you, girlfriend.” 

----

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[hyewka]

idk if this is allowed but,

threesome with yeonjun and beomgyu

⭑ fetish! | c.yj & c.bg ࿐

⭑ synopsis; when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

⭑ warnings; inexperienced!reader, sort of soft dom!yj & switch!gyu, cunninglingus, gagging, throat fuck, cum eating, unsafe sex, creampie, basically all of them are drunk to some degree, iffy word choice with consent but its all definitely consensual, doll/baby petname, childhood best friends/college au

⭑ note; i don’t know how to feel about this at all and i feel like i might wake up one day and just randomly despise it with my entire being but here is a threesome fic long overdue on this blog, take it with what you will because this might just be the last time i ever attempt to challenge my skills 😭

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

“So what if we didn’t go all the way, I still got to eat her out. Which she loved F.Y.I.”

Yeonjun snorts, downing his drink. “Dude you’re such a loser.”

“Just say you don’t get bitches like I do.”

You don’t mean to, but that’s what breaks your nonchalance, cracking up like that was the funniest thing you’ve heard.

Like clockwork, both of their heads turn to you expectantly, as if remembering that you’re here with them and you know you just messed up. Maybe if you keep looking at your phone they’d know to leave you alone.

This has been a thing since highschool; their dumb Who Gets More Action wars that served almost no purpose but to stroke their young male egos. More times than you could count, you’re for some reason sucked in as the end all be all judge even if there were others present they could go and bother with details of their sex life.

You’re not letting that happen tonight. You will not become Simon Cowell of who fucks more.

“Hey,” Beomgyu starts nudging you with his feet, annoyingly persistent. “Hey hey, get off your phone, what are you laughing at?”

Yeonjun easily swipes your phone from your hands making you throw your head back groaning. God, to hell with him. “Give it back!” you whine. He shrugs, stuffing your phone in his pockets. Asshole.

You glare at him with murder on your mind, but all that gets you is a condescending pout thrown your way.

“Ughhh I’m going to throw up, stop with the flirting.”

You throw your plastic cup at Beomgyu’s face, and he flinches back in the most dramatic sense ever. “Bitch.” you mutter.

Yeonjun ignores Beomgyu’s comment altogether. “Everyone knows I get more bitches than you Beomgyu. That’s why she laughed. Plus, you make up shit all the time.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You lied about Yoo Jimin.” You recall, giving up on getting your phone back.

Yeonjun makes a sound of remembrance, clasping his hands together. “That was actually so funny. Yoo Jimin. You’ve lost your mind.”

Beomgyu shoots you a betrayed look, “No way you believe his propaganda! We literally had sex! Halloween 2021!”

You give him a skeptical look, brows raised. Beomgyu could fool anyone, but he can’t fool Yeonjun, let alone you. Beomgyu and Jimin? Didn’t make sense. Not on Earth at least.

“That’s one person anyway who cares.” he mutters.

“Ryujin.” You name. “She’s lesbian Gyu. Even when she was questioning she would’ve rather killed herself than let a man touch her.”

Yeonjun barks into laughter, leaning into you. “Ryujin of all people is fucking mental man.”

“Two people, still very little.” he counters.

Was that a challenge? If he wanted to play this game, you would be an expert.

“Jihyo, Miyeon—”

“I fucked Miyeon.”

“Yeah but you said she let you fuck her in the ass, which! She revealed never happened.”

He gasps in horror, face dropped, like that had to be the most offensive thing hes heard.

“I literally have proof it happened, holy shit Miyeon’s a pathological liar.” Beomgyu fumbles his phone, eyes laser focused as his thumb swipes in rapid speed. You snicker, he’s such an idiot. You know he’ll turn up empty but hes on a mission so you let him be.

“Can you pass me the beer?” you mutter lazily, feeling the alcohol hit you now, making a grabbing motion to the can far from your reach.

“Sure you want more?” Yeonjun whispers, with a similarly lazy slur to his words.

You were all clearly buzzed out, sprawled on the floor of your living room, your table pushed to the side with multiple beer cans crushed in a mess. It’s your version of heaven— a little sad maybe, but it was the perfect mix of mundane and fun to you.

“Just beer.” You reply.

He nods, grabbing it for you and instinctively twisting the cap open. Hes’ always been like that, an acts of service sort of guy. The small flex of his veins when he does it is something you silently take note of. You’re so far gone with your small crush on him.

You clear your throat, snapping yourself out of it. “Thanks. Are you gonna give me back my phone or?”

He pretends to think it over, before clicking his tongue. “Nah, later.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip from your can.

“We don’t get to hangout like this often, missed it y’know? So you can hold off your phone addiction for a bit and stop acting bratty.” he teases.

“Aye aye captain.”

He tuts at you, nudging your shoulder. “I literally cringe internally every time you say that.”

You hum, looking over at Beomgyu. Who is incredibly tense, almost frozen. “Why’d you stop scrolling?”

Maybe Yeonjun saw what you saw, Beomgyu’s face incredibly red, and eyes so weirdly fixed on his phone because he immediately scoots to him, nosy to take a look at his phone screen.

You study Yeonjun’s face. His brows slowly rise. And the only thing he says is “Damn.”

“What?” you ask, curiosity peaked. Nobody answers though, seemingly hypnotised by whatevers on Beomgyus screen.

Yeah, thats enough for your lazy ass to get up and see what they’re looking at.

…To say it’s not what you expect at all is an understatement.

The video playing has no audio, but the visual splayed out in Beomgyu’s hand is all it takes for your thighs to rub instinctively. The phone was obviously placed by the bedside, the view a little tilted, the girl with her face pressed onto the sheets as Beomgyu fucks into her mercilessly unrecognisable, the bed quite literally shaking to match his rhythm. Your face grows hot, and your throat dries, the video looks old because his hair is longer, messier, something that looked like it was from freshman year.

You’re surprised, it’s more than real. He really was going at it.

“I’m fucking her ass here.”

Holy shit. That must’ve hurt like a bitch.

“How would we know it’s Miyeon though?” Yeonjun says, eyes set on the screen.

Beomgyu forwards the video towards the end and lets it play—its the part where he picks up the phone and holds the girls head up by her hair, turning her over, capturing her face fucked out, a mix of spit and cum evidently all over, but more than that, its Miyeon’s face covered in filth.

You bite down on your lips, nervously looking at Beomgyu—who catches your stare. “What?”

You shake your head, dismissing him.

Truth is, this might’ve been the most you’ve seen from Beomgyu in this light. The light that you’ve heard plenty of, but obviously never thought you’d actually…see. Hes always been slutty, especially with him being infamous for his gross PDA on campus, but seeing it—seeing him actually fucking the light out of someone…you gulp down the lump stuck in your throat.

“You’re a freak dude.” Yeonjun says, laughing.

“But not a liar.”

“Nah you’ve yet to prove Jimins, wheres the tape?”

“You just wanna see her getting railed, touch luck bitch.” Beomgyu closes his phone making you realise you were still staring. “Hey, you good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beomgyu shifts his attention to you, making you nervous, shrugging his concern off.

Yeonjun speaks for you instead, a smirk plastered on his face. “She’s a virgin, basically saw something worse than a ghost.”

God, this again!

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun!”

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun.” He mimics annoyingly high pitched and you groan.

“I’m not. I’ve had multiple boyfriends before.”

“Three.” Beomgyu says, “You’ve had three boyfriends.”

“All very long and fruitful relationships, mind you.”

Yeonjun leans back on the couch, stretching his arms behind his back and you know this is a sign that he’s going to be a little bitch about this. “How far have you went?”

“All the way.” you glare back challengily, sipping on your beer.

“Had someone nut in your ass?”

You snap your head to Beomgyu in horror, upper lip quirked. Of course he’d be curious about that. “Damn I’m taking that as a no.”

You force a smile and flip him off rightfully. The little bitch sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and you have half the mind to not smack him.

“Have you done it without a condom?”

You narrow your eyes at that. Yeonjun’s awfully curious, way too curious for someone whos never been curious. Seriuously, he’d be the last person to care for your sex life. Maybe Beomgyu—totally Beomgyu, but not Yeonjun.

“Is this an interrogation?”

Yeonjun shrugs.

“I—okay, I haven’t. I bet you guys haven’t either.” You immediately regret saying that, it’s obvious they’ve done something so trivial. And its even made more obvious when both of them start laughing maniacally.

Your face runs red, resorting to chugging more beer.

Beomgyu rests his head on your lap suddenly and you quirk your brow down at him. “What? Your thighs are comfortable.”

You narrow your eyes at him, skeptical of what exactly he’s trying to pull until Yeonjun’s asking you questions again after calming down from his laughing fit.

“Gotten fingered?”

“Well no shit.”

Beomgyus attention is piqued, “You have?”

“How else am I supposed to…you know..get prepped?” you say, coughing around the word.

Beomgyu snorts, “You just did the most virgin thing ever oh my god.”

“That’s why I don’t believe a single thing coming out of her mouth.”

“I’m not a virgin.” you say for the umpteenth time. When they both exchange silent looks, you clear your throat. “But, I might be a little…inexperienced. That’s it though, I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex…like twice.”

Beomgyu shoots up, making you jump in shock. “Twice?!” he shouts. He looks at you like you might’ve just led the saddest life of the entirety of human history.“And three boyfriends? The math isn’t…”

“Well one of them believed pre-marital sex would have us damned so—”

“Oh yeahh, your Christian boy Mark.” Yeonjun marvels. “That guy was a total bitch.”

Yeah, Mark. The guy you thought you’d end up marrying someday, until he decided to cheat with an anal whore as you call it. Cheating on you in broad daylight, in the apartment you shared wasn’t enough, he tried to mansplain the difference between anal virginity and vaginal virginity right after he was caught.

You shudder remembering the scene.

“A little unrelated but I always sort of thought you guys fucked.” Beomgyu starts, breaking the silence. “Like at least once.”

You sigh, he’s never letting this sexual tension bullshit thing go. If anything, Yeonjun probably saw you in the least sexual light possible. Unfortunately. “No. No we haven’t Beomgyu, we keep telling you this.”

“You” He points a finger at you, “Keep telling me this. Not him. That’s suspicious.”

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything even as both you and Beomgyu stare at him— he just mixes his soju and beer together for another shot.

You relent, speaking up. “Yeonjun tell him we haven’t fucked so he can stop insinuating that we’re freaks behind closed doors 24/7.”

Beomgyu snickers at that, still toying with the fabric of your shorts. You think it’s just out of habit.

“Yeah, we haven’t.” Yeonjun finally confirms.

You widen your eyes at Beomgyu to taunt him, getting all up on his face, nonverbally celebrating an I told you so. He just rolls his eyes at you, a dumb smile on his face.

“But I want to.”

…What.

That has both you and Beomgyu frozen, his smile slowly dropping before he turns to face Yeonjun.

Your mind works overtime trying to process whether you heard that right, did it have any hints of a joke, why couldn’t you pick up on it then? Or whether all your life you’ve read it all wrong—is it the drinks speaking or? But drunk words are sober thoughts…right? Is he just-

“Huh?” Beomgyu’s the one to ask for a clarification first.

He only shrugs, proving that none of you heard him wrong. “I wanna fuck her. I mean, you’re hot I’m not being unreasonable.”

You don’t know how to respond without sounding like an even more awkward virgin, so you stay silent, trying to make sense of it in your own head. But when you catch Beomgyu slowly nodding from your peripheral vision like what Yeonjun’s saying makes sense, you painfully nudge him.

He whines, defending himself almost immediately. “What? He’s not wrong, you’re mega hot now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut irritated, “Don’t—god, don’t ever say ‘mega hot’ again.”

Beomgyu mumbles something intelligible, something that sounded like one of his sulky protests that you just ignore as the room falls silent again. Yeonjun seems completely unbothered of the atmosphere, drinking his somaek like this was just another normal day, like he didn’t just air out something that could potentially completely flip your entire dynamic.

The tension is thick, and it suddenly feels way too hot to be here anymore but then Beomgyu speaks up again. “Do you know how to suck a dick?”

You snort, not answering as you keep your eyes on the floor.

But it’s impossible to ignore him when he keeps staring at you, almost too intensely for a question you thought was to break the tension. You look to his face, and there’s no sign of lightheartedness anywhere. He was seriously asking. “So? Do you?”

You decide to humor him, anything to get over this suffocating silence. “Sort of.”

Yeonjun chuckles, “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

You roll your eyes, frankly irritated that he’s even speaking right now. “Sort of means I can, but I don’t know if I’m …good at it.”

He hums in understanding, nodding. “Wanna test your skills out right now?”

Your eyes bulge out, blinking rapidly as you look at Yeonjun in shock. Did he seriously just…say that? Your face grows even hotter as you stutter around a response.

But before you could even form a proper response, Beomgyu says something first, whining into his hands. “I literally cannot be the only one really fucking turned on right now.”

At his words, your eyes instinctively look down to his pants and god, he wasn’t kidding. You don’t know how you haven’t noticed until now, but the imprint of his dick building a tent in his sweatpants has you looking away like you’ve just seen the most sinful thing ever. You don’t miss the small patch of wetness at the top either. You rub your thighs together again, this time you curse your body for reacting because most of their attention was collectively on you now.

Meaning, they would inevitably notice small details.

And that they did. Yeonjun laughs, but it has laces of mean-spiritedness that has your brain frying at a faster speed. “You aren’t the only one. Our little dolls’ horny as shit too, aren’t you? Look at you rubbing your thighs for just the little bits of friction.” Yeonjun says the last part with a pout, so condescendingly, his eyes heavy lidded with what you’re sure is lust.

That gets Beomgyu’s attention, who was lost in his own dilemma, who’s close enough to touch you, to do something, and that has you more nervous than the time you had to present an unfinished slideshow to the harshest professor in your major.

Your throat is dry again, and you can’t seem to get out a word no matter how hard you try. Beomgyu licks his lips momentarily, staring at you, waiting for something, maybe a cue? You don’t know, but they’re both definitely waiting.

Beomgyu’s impatient, and shameless, if that wasn’t already obvious enough. With a rasp to his voice, he whispers, “God, I really wanna touch you right now.”

And you whisper back, like this was secret gossip you’d exchange between yourselves at recess about who was mean to who, who liked who, except this time you’re all grown up, and he’s asking to…touch you. You look behind Beomgyu, Yeonjun very much invested in what’s happening makes you on the fence. “But it’ll—it’ll get…weird. Like, between us.”

Beomgyu’s quick to counter. “No, no it won’t, I promise. Everything’s going to be the exact same. Just baby, please. Let me take care of you.”

The use of a petname again has you biting down on your lips. You search his eyes, and he looks so…desperate, the sudden switch baffling to you, so different from how you usually see him. Is this how he gets with the girls he fucks? It’s so hot, you’ve never been met with this much enthusiasm.

Your feelings heighten even more when he whispers again at your silence, “Please, I’m dying here.”

You let out a breath you were holding in, nodding, “Okay, it’s—it’s okay. You can. Touch me I mean.”

This is the absolute last thing in the world you’d ever expected, like ever. Beomgyu touching you, ministrating your breasts roughly with his big hands through your top, kneeling between your legs, kissing all over from your jaw to your neck like he hasn’t gotten action in decades. It’s like everywhere, your skin scorches, every inch—and he’s so fiery, so harsh with his squeezes and bites that you’re so unprepared for, so unprepared in fact that your eyes already brim with tears, head becoming light with too much stimulation in too little time as you feel him play with your shorts in attempt to take them off.

Suddenly, Beomgyu’s shoved off you completely, having him fall on his ass with a thud. Your eyes fly open in worry, only to be met with Yeonjun way closer to you than earlier. “Dude, calm down you’re going too fast.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes irritably, “You know you could’ve told me that without fucking throwing me off her, right?”

“Like your ass would listen.” Yeonjun mutters, refocusing his attention to you, “Come on, get up on the couch doll, I’ll show you how its done.”

You’re hesitant. You’re okay with messing around with Beomgyu—you are because he’s the best friend that you have zero romantic feelings for, but Yeonjun? You already have this…tiny crush on him that has been fostering since the dawn of times, a light lit then dimmed for years throughout the time you’ve known him…would this not set it on a full blown out fire? Are you ready to risk getting your rocks off to find out?

Yeonjun calls your name again, snapping you out of your reverie. “If you don’t want to I’m not gonna…”

“No no, um—sorry I was just, like, thinking. Sure.” you choke out, cheeks red.

Fuck it.

You situate yourself on the couch like he instructed, looking at Beomgyu for a second in semi-panic, but that horndogs too far gone to properly communicate with you through telepathy so you’re left a puddle, a little jittery as you nervously pick at the thread of the old couch, preparing yourself for whats to come.

Yeonjun smiles, slotting himself between your legs. “I’m gonna take it slow, ‘kay? Tell me if it becomes too much and I’ll stop.”

You nod, taking a deep breath then out to calm your nerves. You don’t have to help him out with pulling your shorts down, it’s like he’s so experienced that he knows how to get around it without you doing much. Which doesn’t help to make you relax…at all. He’s experienced, and you’re not. That’s a cause of a million worries running through your mind at the moment.

The air that had felt so hot earlier, feels cool now, and you shudder a little. “You’re drenched doll, that’s cute.”

Beomgyu finally sits himself next to you, hand on his crotch, slowly rubbing it out as he stares at what Yeonjun sees, craning his neck to get a good look. And you feel…so exposed, it makes your ears red with a mix of shame and arousal as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You jolt a little when you feel his tongue poking at your entrance through your panties—he’s slow as he licks up your slit, soaking your underwear more and more.

“Any of your boyfriends ever eat you out?” Beomgyu asks, hand squeezing his cock through his sweats, before having the genius idea of replacing his with yours—his warm hands resting on yours, guiding you to press down harder on his boner. As if he’s showing you—making you feel how big he is.

You shake your head to his question, and he airs out a chuckle. God, you really want to slap yourself for finding that so attractive. “Of course. Might as well be a real virgin.”

You want to retort back, you really do, because god forbid Beomgyu have the last word, but it's impossible when Yeonjun hooks his finger to push your underwear to the side because you're a goner, a goner the minute you feel his warm breath on your skin, and even worse when you feel his tongue lapping at your core, the direct contact making you gasp out a moan, jolting you awake, clearing your drunk daze.

"Yeonjun, Yeonjun shit-" you don't mean to tighten your grip on Beomgyu, but you do in response to Yeonjuns stimulation which has him hiss, bucking into your touch.

"Do that again. Harder. Touch me baby, yeah, just like that." He babbles, holding onto your wrist, groaning when you oblige, wrapping your hand on his clothed shaft and squeezing the base.

Yeonjun looks at you through lidded eyes, his hands firmly keeping your legs apart, nose brushing against your clit every so often to tease before he finally decides to flatten his tongue against it, finger prodding at your entrance at the same time, making you inexpectantly arch your back, moaning. "F-fuck Jjun!"

You could feel the smirk, the cockiness radiating off him— it oozes even, it's so evident he likes this dynamic, you so reactionary to each little thing he does.

Beomgyu helps you palm his dick before he finally relents, too horny out of his mind, shoving your hand down his pants, making you feel his hot dick, so sticky and wet, it's lewd. "'Move your hand baby, c'monnn. Good girl." He groans, trying to guide you to a speed he finds fitting.

You start getting the hang of it, your hand jerking off his dick without help even as you're practically dumbed out with Yeonjun's tongue working at your sex, trying to purposefully make you lose your mind.

“Pussy so good doll, so good.” his words muffle against your core and it sends a vibration that has your pace falter.

Suddenly, Yeonjun detaches, making you feel terribly empty, and horrible because you were sure you were close. Before you could complain, your eyes widen at him unbuttoning his jeans, dropping them to the floor to have his cock flinging out of his boxers. He gives it a couple strokes, breathing heavy as he stares at your pussy. Wet with his spit, messy. He groans, biting his lips raw and you’ve just never felt so much as a prey until now. “Gonna fill you up soon, don’t worry doll.”

“Pay attention to me too,” Beomgyu whines, kissing your neck again, the space under your earlobe, his teeth grazing against your skin, just begging to have your attention. “Unfair if it’s only him.” he breathes, kissing and kissing and kissing, until he decides to move up to your lips, taking you up a wind as you jerk his dick off faster.

His whines and mewls melt into the sloppiness of the kiss and god is it the hottest thing ever, shit.

Yeonjun basically breaks the kiss by pushing Beomgyu off of you again, and if you had half the mind to think, you would’ve caught the irritation radiating off Beomgyu at Yeonjuns constant cock blocking.

You can’t think now, not when Yeonjun’s lining his dick up with your hole, feeling his hot tip prodding and your pussy fluttering around nothing to suck him in. “Ready? Relax yourself so it’ll feel good, ‘kay?”

You nod, humming.

“Words princess.”

“I’m—I’m ready Jjunie.”

He gives you a crooked grin, fingertips digging into the plush of your hips.

You try, you really do, you try giving them both an experience but the more Yeonjun pushes himself in you, the slower your hand becomes until you finally let go, breathing heavy at the inexplicable feeling of just…fullness. When he’s flush and snug against your core, completely inside you, he relishes, he stays there, eyes fluttering closed with his face so, so close to yours.

And he whispers to you, words Beomgyu can’t possible hear even if he wishes to, and even words you could’ve missed if you weren’t so in tune with every single sense that you’re feeling right now.

“Wish he wasn’t here when I could finally have you.”

You’re driven over the edge, not even given the time to process, before he’s drilling his dick into you—in then back, slowly before he’s building up to snapping his hips, having you gasp in shock at each thrust. You let the stray tear run down, hell, at this point you’re giving all autonomy of your body to the two boys right now, you’re not in control of anything anymore.

“Tight, so tight and warm,” he groans, getting faster, “Shoulda prepped you more, huh? Fuckin’ tighter than a virgin, can barely move.” He laughs breathy.

You just nod, nod at whatever filthy shit he says, tightening your grip on the couch, squeezing your eyes shut at how the pain just bleeds into the pleasure. You’ve never had it like this with your past boyfriends, it never felt like this.

Suddenly, you feel something hot poking at your cheek which spurs you to open your eyes. Your eyes damn near almost bulge out at Beomgyu’s size, cock insistently trying to move past your lips.

“Want your mouth, please, fuck.”

Can you even take that in your mouth?

He doesn’t wait for your contemplation, that’s not Beomgyu’s thing. He does it anyway, managing to slide his dick in your mouth, not even letting you get used to it like Yeonjun had even when he’s a lot bigger, pushing all the way in. He throws his head back, groaning curses as you gag around his length, breathing restricted.

“God you’re so hot like this, princess. Taking my cock so well,” he growls, moving his hips to fuck your mouth. Your eyes water, burning as the taste of him overpowers your senses— all of that paired with Yeonjun’s rhythm getting rougher and more frantic has you lose yourself in ecstasy you don’t think you can handle.

You think you might just faint.

“Have you always been like this? So good at sucking cock, slutty throat just waiting to be stuffed with dick?” Beomgyu rambles filth, losing himself faster than Yeonjun, looking down at you with so much hunger. You return his gaze, blinking up at him innocently, as if to disagree. You’re not slutty, you aren’t.

But that seems to spur him on a completely different direction, like something snapped inside him, cursing loudly as he ruthlessly starts fucking into your mouth. Your mind clouds, dizziness setting in as you feel Yeonjun attach his lips to your nipple through your flimsy top, sucking harshly, making a mess of your shirt with his spit.

You garble around Beomgyu’s dick, trying to say something but it only comes out intelligible and like complete nonsense, it’s humiliating.

“God, you’re sucking me in so greedily, want me to fill you up with my cum so bad, huh?”

Yeonjun slaps your ass and you jolt again, snot and mascara running down your face. He starts kneeding your cheeks, snapping into you rougher, and somehow deeper, you fucking lose it. “You want it so bad, right? Say something baby, or I won’t give it to you.”

You nod, mouth still stuffed with Beomgyu’s cock, who he isn’t intent on stopping any time soon.

It’s enough for Yeonjun you guess because before you know it, you feel hot substance shoot up, filling you to the brim with his cum, still pumping it in even as your orgasm washes over you. You’re beyond overstimulated, especially when Beomgyu cums around the same time, his hot load forcing its way down your throat.

He holds your head against his abdomen, groaning the more he defills you. “Fuck if you do that I might just fall for you,” he growls, voice down octaves, fixating his eyes on how your throat gulps down his cum like it’s water at the Sahara. The taste is so strong, you start coughing up some of it out when his dick flops out of your mouth sticky, finally regaining your breath, gasping for air in large amounts, your cunt spilling Yeonjun’s seed onto the couch slowly, dribbling down to the floor to make a mess.

Beomgyu suddenly pushes Yeonjun out of the way to slot himself between your legs, kissing at your pussy.

“Beomgyu, don’t, can’t—stop, too much-” you try reasoning but he doesn’t listen, that brat. He just starts going at it, lapping at the cum spilling, his lips glistening with the wetness, alternating between kissing and licking your cunt. “‘Course you can baby, you can take it.”

You bite down hard on your lips, lightheaded as you look down at the man ravaging your pussy and cleaning you up at the same time.

To hell with that ‘nothing’s going to change’ bullshit promise, something definitely changed tonight and you can’t put your finger around what.

[inurnctdreams]

00:00 - l.dh

idol!haechan x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, drabble

warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of sex, pet names (baby, hyuckie)

wc: 0.7k

“happy birthday dear hyuckie, happy birthday to you!”

“hi baby, thank you.” donghyuck’s voice is quiet and slightly raspy. nothing you haven’t heard multiple times before, but not what you’d expected when you’d called your boyfriend at exactly midnight in his current time zone.

“did… did i wake you up?” you frown, and your voice must betray your disbelief if his cute little chuckles over the line are anything to go by.

“maybe, i fell asleep like twenty minutes after i ate dinner.”

“were the guys not with you?” you pout. you’d at least taken some comfort in the fact that he’s surrounded by the rest of the dreamies for the start of his birthday if you can’t be there.

“they’re here.” he says. “our intention was to stay up.”

“and you all fell asleep? that’s actually really fucking funny.” you can’t help the giggles that escape you at the thought of all seven of them crowding in one hotel room to see donghyuck’s birthday in, only to not make it to midnight.

“yeah, i guess we were all pretty tired.”

“wait, does that mean i still got to be the first person to say it?!” you say excitedly. it’s not yet his birthday where you are, but you’d be damned if you were gonna let a silly thing like time zones come between you and making sure your boyfriend started off his day showered in love, albeit virtual.

“uh-huh.” he smiles, leaving out the fact that he’d been planning on answering your call before anyone else could wish him happy birthday anyway. you’d been so cutely adamant that distance wouldn’t stop you from being the first. “i miss you so much.” you almost don’t hear the whisper. if you didn’t know him so well, you’d chalk the voice crack up to him only just waking up.

“i miss you too, baby. twenty-one hours.” you let yourselves sit with the bittersweet feeling for a moment. tears begin to form in your own eyes but you blink them away. “i cannot wait to give you your presents, i think i’ve outdone myself this year!”

“all i need is you.” he elongates the vowels in ‘you’, trying to match your cheery tone.

“ew, stop being so greasy! plus, you love presents and i’m still mad my master plan to have them sent to you was ruined.”

“management did have a point about the shipping time issues, plus this way you can see me open them properly.” he reasons. “i can’t wait to hug you again.”

“just hug me?” you smirk.

“this was supposed to be a cute, innocent birthday call, not phone sex!” he gasps dramatically, sending you both into another fit of giggles.

“okay, okay.” you relent. “i guess the whole point of birthday sex is to do it in person.”

“tease.”

“we did not need to hear that.” another voice chimes in, clearly muffled and far away.

“why are you even on the phone so late?” mark questions, sounding closer than jaemin had. “oh shit dude, happy birthday!”

“is it already midnight?” jisung’s voice is muffled, and then you hear rustling and yells for the other boys to wake up.

“i’ll let you go, have fun with the boys!” you smile.

“no!” hyuck immediately whines.

“it’s okay baby, have a good morning and let me know when you’re boarding and landing, yeah?”

“fine.” he sighs, and you can hear the pout in his voice. the mental image of him, bedhead and traces of sleep, has you mourning the fact that you can’t squish his cheeks or kiss his forehead. yet, you remind yourself. “i’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you as soon as i get back.”

“i’m holding you to that.” you smile, ignoring the fake gagging sounds in the background.

“get some rest too, i know you have work in the morning.”

“i’ll try.” you knew it would be difficult to settle your restless brain but he was right, you did have work, plus the stuff you’d planned for when he got home that you had managed to keep a surprise. “happy birthday, hyuckie. i love you.”

“i love you too.” you glance down at your phone when the call ends.

twenty-one hours.

[nininikki]

delicates — s. gojo

content warnings: perv!gojo, fwb!gojo, panty-stealing, panty-sniffing, jerking off with said panties, increasingly mild jealousy, male masturbation

author’s note: some horny desperate gojo to perk those holiday spirits. love y’all 💋🫶🏽🤍

“satoru, have you seen my pink panties?”

he had barely gotten the phone up to his ear before nearly exclaiming, “your what?” through the dwindling cell phone static, gojo could hear the frantic zipping and unzipping of suitcases, opening and closing of drawers, and the stress in not only your breathing, but your question: have you seen my pink panties?

at the words, “pink panties”, bells begin to sound in satoru’s head. they’re tiny, lacy, and cotton candy pink almost all around, apart from the hem, which is decorated with a little white bow. the first time you’d worn them, they’d proved to be an issue for satoru’s restraint. much too pretty to ruin by tearing off your legs, but still a hindrance to him in the animal-like mood he was in. he could recall you gasping as he moved the thin material to the side so he could curl the tip of his tongue up against your clit for the first time of many that night.

“oh, nothing. forget i asked.” it was more than obvious you were stressing yourself to hell and back over the imminent (and very mandatory) conference trip to new orleans. it’s evident now, and it was more than evident about a week ago when you invited satoru over to your place with the intention of letting him ease the worry away. and he did, one salacious orgasm at a time.

crackly phone static sobers gojo instantly, and he’s back with you—present day you—and your current dilemma. “but, still,” he hears you defeatedly slump into the cushiony spring of your mattress. “where’d they go so fast?”

your new question makes him sit up in his bed. “well, uh,” gojo hardly stuttered, but you managed to catch him at an impossibly bad time. “when’d you see ‘em last?”

“they were in a stack of laundry on my dresser, i swear.” like magic, satoru’s mind conjures an image of what you might look like on the other end of the phone. lying across your bed, perhaps twirling a lock of hair up and down your finger or fidgeting with the golden initial necklace that always hung so delicately around your throat. he imagines a cartoonishly big question mark floating above your head as you work the plushness of your bottom lip between your teeth. the mental sight was a pretty one, albeit rather funny.

you resume your recant with, “then, just like that, poof! gone.” a sigh passed between your lips. “i mean, what am i gonna do now? i wanted to bring those with me.”

“those?” satoru hesitantly flicks his bedside lamp on now, hoping seeing will help him understand. “on a work trip?”

you sighed again, this time exasperated. “oh, please. it’s new orleans. did you think i was a nun or something?”

“whatever,” with a blink of his eyes, he tried to brush away the nagging, envious feeling that tugged at his navel and nearly led him to nausea, but it wasn’t at all that simple. “why’d you call me, anyway?” were you calling all your recent lovers and alerting them to be on the lookout for a pair of frilly pink underwear? the thought of it was funny only before satoru fully registered the idea of you having any other lover that was not him.

“well, i just thought that maybe…” your words trailed off in a way that indicated you’d lost them on purpose. your acrylics could be heard nervously clicking together on the other end.

gojo scoffs with the incredulity of a completely innocent man. “what, you think i’m the panty thief?” at the sound of air sucking between your teeth, and otherwise dreadful silence, he wants to roll his eyes. “i can’t believe you. you ever stop to think it was your freaky ass housekeeper?”

a sharp gasp crackles through the receiver. “rosmerta would never!”

“yeah, yeah. just call me when you think better of me.”

“then i guess i won’t be calling for a very long time.” you say, and a stiff dial tone fills gojo’s ears.

his conversation with you should’ve sobered him up completely. he should’ve been shamed into flicking his lamp off and falling asleep (even though he couldn’t if he wanted to). but hearing your voice only fueled his fire further. all day, your panties had burned a titillating hole in the top drawer of his dresser, and he’d had more than enough of denying himself.

when the sun sank beneath the clouds and it was finally dark enough to abate any oncoming feelings of guilt—although, there was a shamefully small amount of it—satoru had your pretty pink underwear splayed out over his lap, teasing it over the growing bulge in his pants.

he had felt like such a perv when he plucked them off your dresser’s tower of laundry and stashed them within his pocket. and he’d felt like even more of a perv when he kissed you out of your early morning slumber to tell you he was on the way out. “gotta go, baby. early shift today.” satoru whispered into your soft skin.

immediately, you’d attempted to rise from the comfort of your bed. “i’ll walk you out,” you yawned.

smoothing a hand over your cheek, satoru’s eyes softened at the sleepy tenderness in yours, and he’d wanted to collapse back into the mattress without a second thought. “no, you stay here and rest, alright.” but he simply could not bring himself to rest alongside you with such a dirty secret in his pocket.

and so now here he was, touching himself through his underwear like a virgin schoolboy as he brushed the fabric over his nose. the wholly clean scent of them couldn’t have stopped him from envisioning all the times you may have gotten them a mess with the slickness of your arousal.

you were wearing a dress that first time satoru had fucked you in these. and you weren’t shy at all about letting him bend you over the edge of your bed and push the skirt up over your hips. he was practically salivating at the sight: the thick globes of your ass on perfect display for his starving hands, and the damp plumpness of your cunt on perfect display for his starving mouth. thin ribbons of arousal had dripped their way down your labia and come to a head at the bulbous tip of your clit, while of course staining the almost transparent material in its wake.

the memory makes gojo abandon all efforts of teasing, and he’s letting his cock spring free from his underwear. he lets the angry mushroom tip graze against the crotch area of the thong, precisely where your slit would be. if he closed his eyes for long enough, he could imagine he was doing just that—rubbing himself up against your leaking slit until you were weak with pleas.

when his eyes flutter open the tiniest bit, he could see a fresh bead of precum dotting the material. “so good,” he murmured as he remembered how easily your chubby cunt swallowed up the fabric. your eyes, lidded and framed by fluffy lashes, sat teary and reddened in your head.

satoru had grown fond of how worked up you tended to get when teased. your manicured hands had cupped over the round peaks of your ass, spreading yourself apart with the hope of being filled. “please,” you had whimpered, and he couldn’t help himself at sight of your slick soaked lips virtually calling out to him. relief filled your eyes as he pushed the dainty cloth to the side, and then ran an impatient finger tantalizingly down your slit.

fresh saliva filled the underside of his mouth almost immediately, haunted by the memory of your slick bursting over his tongue in all the best and worst ways. there was no way gojo would be able to stomach the idea of another man peeling these off your skin just as he had that night. could he get you as loud for him as you were for satoru? could he tease the head of his cock over your hungry entrance until you were practically dying for it? could he spring your pretty eyes with tears after every thrust? gojo didn’t think so.

dampening the palm of his hand with a pearl of spit, gojo began sliding it up and down his length, murmuring small curses to himself as the picture of you bled through his mind. “so fuckin’ nasty.” he grunted when he remembered how you’d always time the movements of your hips perfectly to match his thrusts and fuck him back. “am i doin’ a good job, daddy?” you would look back at him and ask, smearing your juices over his pelvis with the increasingly weakening pushes of your hips.

“makin’ daddy so proud.” satoru hummed to himself, tightening his grip just over the head of his dick and imagining the very same hold your pussy seemed to have on him.

“i’m gonna cum,” you would tearfully whisper, just a split second before your body collapsed under the weight of the pleasure your lover was inflicting on you. usually immediately after, gojo’s release would follow upon him seeing the fervent manner in which your pussy spasmed around his cock as it drooled out thick rivulets of milky finish.

satoru felt himself twitch, inching closer and closer toward his own release as he teased the flimsy garment to and fro over his cock. but it just wasn’t enough.

in an act of utter desperation, or perhaps madness, he brought your panties up to his face and allowed his nose to brush up against the crotch. he was almost ashamed of the shiver that coursed down his spine. although the smell was relatively harmless, the mere idea of suffocating in you worked his nerves without relent.

“please,” gojo begged no one in particular. if he could, he would hold you against his face forever, smothering himself in the warmth of your skin until he was one with you. if he could, he would be en route to your apartment this instant to tell you the truth. “i love you.”

with a choked whimper that followed his untimely confession, satoru slipped over edge and into the blissful abyss of orgasm. the tugs on his cock became haphazard and sloppy with the gradual spurts of cum oozing from the head of his dick. it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and removed the rose colored panties from his face did he realize the gravity of what he had admitted. he loved you.

[matrixbearer2024]

Karaoke Cacophony

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: This song is legitimately the reason why I ended up posting the poll that I did lmao- but if you check the lyric translations- it oddly fits the vibe for both Vox and Reader. Though it's only going to embarrass our resident TV man since our dear (Y/N) has absolutely no idea what the song actually means. Just that it sounds nice and it's something they heard over the radio back then when growing up. Vox has a built-in google translate thing so he can understand others better no matter what language, it just so happens that this hits him like a double-edged sword where he has no idea if he would've been better off not understanding the song and just appreciating the melody of your voice. BTW this interlude features an HC I have for Vox where he cooks sometimes because the systematic way it's done helps calm him down, it's inspired by something I read before but yeah- ALSO ALSO- some part kind of features reader being cracked out of their minds with pickup lines I pulled from one of @voxsremotec0ck's posts LMAO.

A/N: Also my cousin has had a HEAVY hand to play in this song choice, though her reasoning was mostly because of Angel's initial comment that watching Vox and Reader's interactions were like seeing a romcom plot unfold live. So why not go a little bit off tangent and relate them to a romantic fairytale? I also may have sorta kinda written a lot of this chapter while I myself was on a hyperactive streak because of some caffeine- Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this interlude and as always- Happy Reading!

After a while and back and forth of those games, you and Vox eventually stopped joining in despite the others still continuing to play.

You and your partner in crime had become preoccupied with laughing at memes or poking fun at whatever stupid trend was currently a fad online.

You were currently leaning against the technology overlord while he had one arm around you, the other using to poke at your phone every now and again.

The two of you were practically cuddling at this point from how close you both were but neither noticed nor even seem to care.

"They have the tidepod challenge too? Geez, people are kind of-"

"Idiotic? Stupid? Batshit crazy?"

"Pretty much."

"This is hell dollface, I'm not sure why you expected any different."

You just casually shrugged in reply, soon laughing at a dumb video you found whilst scrolling.

Vox couldn't help but subtly stare at you, especially when you seemed to be so cheerful just messing around or doing whatever.

Seeing your smile always made his day just a little bit brighter.

"Hey Vox! Stop being absolutely whipped for a second and help me out over here!"

The overlord in question just sputtered in confusion at Lucifer's words.

He wasn't whipped!

He just- admired you a lot.

Even you had raised eyebrows at the odd word choice, whipped- wasn't exactly what you would use to describe your flatscreen companion.

Not when you kind of had an inkling to what it meant.

"What are you even doing??"

Vox called back, finally taking his eyes off you and your phone to just look over in the kitchen's general direction.

Lucifer did mention about making a snack earlier, but why would the king of hell need his help of all people??

What was he planning this time???

"Something! Just get over here!!"

You just gave your companion a shrug when he looked back to you, encouraging him to just go and get it over with.

Besides, you guys could always just continue doing this and messing around when he was finished with... whatever Lucifer needed him for.

Well, that was until your brain immediately stomped on the brakes when you looked at Vox again.

He'd undone his cuffs to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, revealing some... bare forearms.

Before he just nonchalantly stood up and walked off towards the kitchen when the king of hell called for him again.

He didn't seem to have noticed your shattered mental-

You had dropped your phone at that point, just blinking and spacing out like an idiot before Angel noticed.

"Woaaah, what happened to (Y/N)?"

"Huh, I didn't think we'd ever see them actually speechless."

"Oooh oooh! Does that mean (Y/N) likes bad boys?!"

You shook your head in an attempt to snap out of it but couldn't stop the blush from creeping up your neck.

Oh. My. God.

You were completely in the gutter now-

Similarly to Alastor, you noticed Vox was always wearing long-sleeves or an outfit that concealed any skin at all.

And while it left you wondering what he had to hide, that consequently would lead you to imagine how he'd look like without a shirt on.

Was he just a mess of wires or something?

Did he conceal so much because he was robotic to a degree?

You had no clue how Vox's biology even worked and you didn't know how to ask without sounding weird.

Not to mention how he's able to wear some kinds of shirts given his obnoxiously sized head-

It's just curiosity is all!

You could only slap Angel's hands away when he started cautiously poking you, and you were practically steaming out of your ears from embarrassment.

It wasn't the fact that your flatscreened friend seemed to show some skin that set you off-

It was the fact your brain somehow went autopilot and registered it as HOT.

You were sure Velvette had fashioned him the outfit so it didn't surprise you that Vox looked all dapper and smart.

Dare you even say the fucking TV looked handsome-

You just didn't think he could look any better.

Until he did that.

And consequently nuked the rest of your sanity with it.

"Yep, they're totally broken-"

"Angel shut up before I beat you to death with a pillow I swear to god-"

"Oh good, you're finally reacting toots."

You merely flipped him the bird and just hid your face in your other hand, why was everything in your body trying to go on overdrive?!

"What's got you all blushy anyway? It's like you've just watched a racy porno."

"What?! No! I just- you- I don't even fucking know-"

Angel was about to continue poking at you before Lucifer and Vox finally returned.

Both chatting amiably while holding what seems to be a plate or two of treats and snacks.

So that's where they both went-

And that was when the spider noticed your gaze practically zero in on your techno-centric friend.

Ha, friend-

Yeah nobody in the hotel with half a brain believed that for even a second-

Though there didn't seem to be any differences with Vox-

His outfit was still the same, just his sleeves were...

Oh.

OH.

"WOW TOOTS YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING PRUDE OH MY GOD-"

You just shrieked incoherently at Angel and started whacking him with a couch cushion while everyone else kind of just watched you both confused.

Not to mention that you were pretty much a tomato from how red you've become.

The arachnid couldn't stop himself from just devolving into a loud laughing fit.

You had completely lost it because of some forearms, he could only imagine what your reaction would be if a certain technology overlord decided to undo some shirt buttons.

You'd probably just die on the spot!

"Uh... what happened?"

"No idea, but it sure as hell is entertaining."

By the time you were able to relatively calm down, you were still red when Vox just sat down next to you again.

"Soooo, any reason for trying to murder Angel with a pillow?"

"None that concerns you."

"Oh come on, it's gotta be something crazy if you don't tell even me."

You just adamantly shake your head and refuse to say anything no matter what Vox tried.

It was kind of cute seeing you try so hard, despite the fact the overlord knew he could always just ask the others about it later.

He didn't think it was anything too big, after all you would embarrassed by a lot of random things.

So he didn't even bother guessing at this point.

"What did you and Lucifer make anyway?"

"Hm? Chocolate strawberries, do you want some?"

"Seriously? That's what he needed help with?"

"I'm just as confused as you are doll, anyway- open your mouth."

Vox just chuckles when you shyly follow his instructions, forcing himself to look away before grabbing one of the strawberries and placing it into your mouth.

He'd be lying if he said the way you looked didn't give him other ideas.

You seeming insanely kissable being just one of them.

While the overlord knew making the treat consumed more time than just going out and probably buying it-

Seeing your eyes sparkle when you bit down made him consider that it was a little more worth it to put in that extra homemade touch.

"Didn't pin you for a guy that could cook."

You remarked, taking the plate from him and just eagerly chowing down.

Vox just chuckled, watching you so happily munch away.

You were just really cute in your own little way, not that he would ever say so.

Especially when you seemed so pleased at just such a simple snack.

"I'm not surprised, I don't exactly... have that vibe? I can cook though, it's something I do on the off chance to calm down."

"And still you eat that McDonald's garbage-"

"It's not garbage! I'm just too busy to actually cook sometimes! Running a media empire isn't easy dollface."

"The next time you do cook, I wanna try your food."

"Hm? What makes you say that?"

"Dunno, just wanna try it."

The overlord simply raised an eyebrow at you, though he didn't seem to mind your words much.

And as you scarfed down on the strawberries, he noticed a smear of chocolate streaking across your cheek.

How it got there- Vox wasn't entirely sure.

Possibly from your enthusiastic eating but he didn't really care enough at the moment to find out.

"Wait, you've got some chocolate on your face."

You looked at your companion with wide eyes when he gingerly raised a hand to wipe at your face.

The way his gaze was both calm and focused at you made your heart skip a beat.

The plate of treats in front of you now mostly forgotten.

"There. Didn't think you'd be such a messy eater doll."

He didn't seem to notice your mind kind of stall, picking up a chocolate strawberry himself to eat it.

It was a little too sweet for his taste, which was odd considering his already innate knack for deserts.

You seemed to like it though, so he didn't say anything.

And that was when Vox also noticed your more than obvious staring.

You weren't even trying to hide it were you?

Admittedly, the overlord got a little embarrassed because of it.

"Take a picture darling, it'll last longer."

"Nah, I think I would much rather look at the real thing. A picture can only do so much."

You smirked when you saw his screen proceed to tinge pink, especially when you heard his fans kick to life.

He never could get the upper hand with you, which was hilariously cute in it's own way.

It didn't take long for you to eventually get used to Vox's charm over the while you've known him.

Even if at times it would strike you when you least expected it.

You simply went back to snacking contentedly.

After a short while, all the treats were gone and you were practically bouncing off the walls with energy.

So what did you do with that sugar rush?

Absolutely torment and flirt the life out of Vox.

Slamming pickup line after pickup line into his already preoccupied mind space.

Well it was preoccupied with you to begin with but let's not mention that-

"Hey Vox- Hey Vox- Hey Vox-"

"What is it dollface?"

"Do you have a bandaid?"

"No...? Why?"

"Because I think I scraped my knee falling for you!"

He buffered a little bit but just played off being flustered with a scoff.

The rest of the hotel crew were not so subtly watching all of this go down just waiting for your overlord friend to crack.

Angel and Husker already made bets on how fast he would go down glitching -

"That was horrible."

"Nah nah nah wait I got another one-"

The overlord didn't really mind it at first, aside from the fact he was a little surprised.

Until the point it got so stupidly suggestive and then he actually had trouble dealing with the provocative ideas he got from you.

"You know, I'm just gonna start calling you my big toe."

"Your... what??"

"My big toe, so I can bang you all over the place."

The overlord had to actually ignore the snickering and hushed laughter from your spectators, why were you doing this to him of all people?!

Though as horrible as the pickup lines were, Vox would be lying if he said they weren't hitting their mark.

He was just... a little better at hiding it.

And that wasn't even the end of your tomfoolery-

Actually far from it.

Vox made a mental note to watch out for your sugar rush episodes from this point onwards.

You weren't ever this bad from what he could remember either-

Well, you would just blitz through nearly everything during a hyperactive episode before the impending sugar crash.

But never tried to flirt the socks off him!

"Are you a fitted sheet?"

"A fitted sheet? What's that got to do with-"

"Cuz you're complicated as fuck but I still need you spread across my bed."

Vox stared at you wide-eyed for a whole ass second-

Before his screen predictably started showing errors and he glitched uncontrollably.

Angel just keeled over from laughter at that point when the overlord's face went absolutely haywire.

He didn't quite bluescreen, but his screen did buffer and spazz a whole lot for a minute or so.

To which you just celebrated and cheered.

"HELL YEAAAAH! I BROKE HIM IN FIVE FUCKING SECONDS!"

That just made your arachnid friend laugh even harder.

You were an unbridled chaotic ball of energy hyped up on sugar-

But Charlie- being Charlie-

Felt a little bad for Vox being the target of your madness- and stepped in and try to direct your hyperactivity elsewhere.

However, because she had done it on a whim- she actually had no ideas what to do with you.

So she just randomly suggested karaoke.

Which seemed to get your attention anyway.

When Vox finally came crashing back into reality, he was surprised to see both you and Lucifer just tormenting a very staticky and clearly very irritated Alastor.

"YOU'RE A LOOOOSER BAMBI- A LOOOOSER-"

What even was that song?

"Huh, you were out for a while."

"What- did I miss something?? What happened?"

"Your hyperactive lover just being a menace to Alastor, other than that nothing much."

"They're not my-"

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that."

Vox doesn't even have the opportunity to fully retort before you suddenly ran over to him with a grin.

Apparently you noticed he was fine again-

This time he was just the slightest bit worried.

You were literally shaking from the sugar rush- oh goodness-

"Oh good you're awake! I wanted to show you something!"

Vox didn't have the option to refuse when you just dragged him over to the couch and plopped him down next to everyone else.

"Okay okay! There's this song I used to listen to because I loved the melody and how nice it sounded but I actually have no idea what it means because it's not in English and-"

Safe to say the overlord spaced out during your rambling, only picking up the important bits of your spiel.

Which TL;DR, was just that you had a song you wanted to sing but didn't actually understand.

He only snapped out of his trance when he finally heard your voice slow down to the soft piano melody.

Well, the words you were saying definitely weren't in English-

So Vox secretly decided to translate what you were saying.

Having the internet being an extension of his conscious mind was a little bit of advantage here.

Then he figured out what the lyrics were.

And almost crashed again.

"I've forgotten how long it's been since I heard you telling me, your favorite story~"

He didn't really know whether his curiosity was a good or bad thing here.

Especially when it hit him that this was a love song.

The overlord was absolutely not prepared for this at all.

"I have been thinking for a long time, I started to panic."

Sure, the lyrics weren't exactly a fit to you-

But for him?

Especially when you had still been alive?

A 100% coincidental match.

Or he thinks it's mere coincidence.

"Have I done something wrong~?"

Oh god no do not look at him like that-

Nope nope nope nope-

It took every ounce of control for Vox to just not crash again right then and there.

"You said to me full of tears: 'Fairy tales are all lies.'"

You'd memorized the song, so it made sense that you didn't need to look at the lyrics to sing.

But could you seriously stop looking at him so fondly?

You didn't even know the words you were saying, this was so unfair.

"I couldn't possibly be your prince."

That just made him think back on all the past times he was trying to be... "friendly".

Well, almost borderline romantic even when he was willing to throw down nearly everything for your sake if you so much as asked.

Not that you noticed, Vox doubted you ever would even if it slapped you in the face.

"Perhaps you won't understand- ever since you said you loved me!"

Angel just smirked when he heard the signature whirring of computer fans.

Though he wasn't sure if it was because the overlord got flustered from your singing or because he understood.

Well, it wasn't his problem-

Because it was downright hilarious how insanely oblivious you were.

"The stars in my sky shine brightly!"

Where you were concerned, that was always the case.

Not at the start of course-

But it became adamantly clear when Vox found himself eager to see what kind of chaos you would stir up next.

"I'm willing to become the angel of the fairytale that you love-"

You extended your hand out to him, a silent invite to the tech overlord asking to dance.

He chuckled and smiled at you.

Of course he'd take up that offer.

"Spread up my hands that become wings to protect you~"

The two of you just swayed and danced around to the melody, becoming engrossed once more in your own little world.

You didn't even know what you were singing, but judging by the fond look Vox had directed at you-

It seemed he was enjoying it.

So you continued to indulge him.

"You have to believe, believe that we can be like in the fairy tale!"

You blushed a little bit when he'd twirled you around, after all-

You'd never really danced like this before.

It was like a... different kind of waltz.

Still, it made you feel so dainty.

His gaze just made you feel like the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Happy and joyful in the ending~"

The rest of your friends were amused seeing the two of you pretty much being the plot to a convoluted romcom.

Especially when they realized you and Vox kind of forgot they were actually there.

Charlie thought your relationship was endearingly cute-

Vaggie just reacted like her theory had been entirely confirmed.

Alastor felt like it was kinda disgusting-

And Lucifer nearly decked him for trying to ruin your moment.

Angel, Husker and Nifty were busy placing bets on who between the either of you would confess to the other first.

Though by the time the song ended, everyone couldn't help but groan or facepalm.

"Soooo- how'd I do?"

"It's okay, I'd say there's still room for lots of improvement."

"Oh fuck you Vox-"

"Like you'd ever actually go through with that."

"HA- don't try me you slutty-waisted lanky TV-"

"I've been called worse by better, get creative!"

You were both fucking idiots.

And at this point-

It was like your romantic dance hadn't even happened at all.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i don’t know, blame the air force?

summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw feels his girlfriend’s wrath after she gets her year end bonus and uncle sam takes a pretty penny out of it

a/n: listen….this is very self indulgent and that’s all i’m going to say. i literally wrote it this afternoon after…well i got fucked by the government in the form of taxes on my bonus. also yeah she’s kind of a brat in this one, but i think it’s a little deserved. rated t for language and suggestive comments 1.2k

It wasn’t often that you beat Bradley home from work, but sometimes on Fridays you would sneak out of the office at lunch and work the rest of the day from home. It typically put you in a good mood and gave you the opportunity to run a quick load of laundry or get started on an - admittedly - rudimentary dinner. Sometimes you’d even go for a dip in your building’s skyline pool.

But that afternoon, you were seething. Properly seething. And no amount of stress cleaning or tanning was going to make you feel any better. Maybe you just needed Bradley to fuck you six ways to Sunday later? Surely the serotonin from a couple orgasms could soothe this particular anger brewing inside of you.

As per every October, you had gotten your year end bonus with your paycheck earlier that day, which always inspired equal amounts of giddiness and angst within you.

The giddiness, of course, because who doesn’t love extra money? It was like found money twice a year. Sure, you worked extra hard for it, many late nights at the office, client site visits, and presentations over the last four years could attest to that. You were up in the air over whether you should add it to your brokerage account or splurge on something? Because again - you worked for it.

But then there was the angst.

The angst because you inevitably lost half of it to taxes. And this angst appeared like clockwork, twice a year, every year, for the last six years you’d been working at PwC. You knew this - it was inevitable.

Except, earlier that morning, you’d been at your desk reading the WSJ with your coffee and had seen a headline. A stupid, annoying headline that had made you purse your lips, realization dawning as you rushed to check your pay stub on workday.

Pentagon Refocuses Spending on Weapons to Deter China

As you read further, you saw that as part of the FY24 budget, the Pentagon was increasing the $30.6B defense budget a further 12% with a focus on missiles, rockets, and - yes - airplanes, specifically for the Air Force.

Uncle Sam was taking 35% of taxes out of your bonus for that? Fuck that.

So, when Bradley came by your apartment later that afternoon, freshly showered after a quick trip to the gym after work, you were steaming. And though it was not Bradley’s fault - not in the slightest - seeing him in that stupid(ly tight), grey, US Navy t-shirt only further contributed to your sour mood.

“Hey!” he called out, letting himself in with his key. You turned your head towards him and hummed, letting out a gruff hi. He toed off his sneakers and left them by the door before coming over to where you were laying on the couch, doom scrolling through Instagram, and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

He frowned at your tepid response and you felt like a absolute bitch for a moment. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You briefly glanced at Bradley and then went back to staring - glaring - at your phone. “I’m just in a mood - tired.”

You could see him doing the mental math, trying to figure out if you were on your period, but that wasn’t until next week. “S’okay. We can just hang out and have an early -”

“- Crash any planes today?” the words slipped out before you could think better of it. Before he could even respond, you cut Bradley off. “What’s it matter anyway? They’ll just buy you new ones? Fuck the kids, I mean, they don’t need to eat school lunch? And the Postal Service can cut off Saturday delivery? Hmmmm maybe we should cut Social Security even more? Our infrastructure doesn’t need to be fixed, let’s just let our bridges and roads crumble! Fucking taxes bullshit.”

“Uhhh...”

You got up in a huff and started pacing, getting more and more worked up. “It’s not that I mind paying taxes - well, that’s not totally true. But like? Actually put them towards something that’s going to help people? Not just stupid rockets and missiles and fucking -”

“- Did you get your tax refund or something?”

Bradley was standing next to you, trying to put his hands on your shoulders in what would have been a calming motion had you not been acting completely crazy over eleven thousand dollars.

“It’s October?” you snapped.

“I don’t know?” Bradley shrugged his shoulders, getting a little worked up himself. “Rich people are weird? And your dad seems like he’d know how - nevermind.” You rolled your eyes. “What happened?”

Your shoulders sagged. Fuck, this wasn’t Bradley’s fault. It was that piece of shit House Majority Leader’s, who was so far up Lockheed Martin’s ass he could see -

“I got my year end bonus check today…” you grumbled.

Like you figured, a huge smile lit up Bradley’s face. “That’s amazing - or not?” he backtracked.

“I lost like 35% of it to taxes.”

“Ahhh.”

“And I saw this article in the Journal this morning about the new Pentagon budget and how they’re purchasing these new planes for the Air Force and it just - it’s dumb but it made me mad because I just wish my taxes went to the things that will actually benefit the average American?”

Bradley tucked your hair behind your ear and clucked your chin. “That’s a lot to put on your shoulders, kid…”

“Do you think I’m acting like a brat?” You knew you were, you were just curious if Bradley would say the same thing.

He made a face. “Well,” the word dragged out, “maybe a little…” You hung your head and leaned against his chest. “But it’s kind of valid, I’d be pretty pissed losing all that out to the Air Force, too. But the Navy’s different. They don’t just put anyone in the cockpit -”

“- Oh, really?” You peered up at him. “And how many planes have you crashed, Bradley?”

He pursed his lips. “Like on purpose or -”

You threw your hands up and groaned, eventually making your way over to your bar cart. “- Like on purpose he says! Bradley!”

There wasn’t any ice in the ice bucket, but you didn’t care. You needed something. Anything to take the edge off. You were too annoyed, too fussy - too bratty.

As you poured yourself - and Bradley - a drink, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed in your ear, “I promise you, I have only crashed three planes on purpose.”

Oh how you wanted to laugh. You leaned back against Bradley’s chest, fully ensconced in the smell of his soap and aftershave. “Hmmm, that’s $195M down the drain. Could’ve fed a lot of kids in Kern County with that money, repaved a lot of roads, too…”

He grabbed the drink you had poured for yourself and took a sip, hissing at the burn of the tequila. “I don’t know about the kids, but I can make it up to you.”

The glass was placed back on the bar cart with a clink and Bradley placed his right hand on your hip, while the left slipped underneath the waistband of your skirt and eventually your underwear. Your whole body sagged against him and you hated how keen you were for this - for him. Apparently you really had just needed to get fucked.

“Such a pretty girl…even if you are a bit of a brat sometimes,” he finished, nipping at your ear. “Hey, kid?” You hummed. “You know if I was an astronaut I would cost the US government even more money, you still sure you want me to go down that route?”

“Shut up and fuck me, rocketman.”

“Can do, hell I’ll even buy you dinner.”

-----------

this was so random so i hope people actually like it??? idk if no one does i never wrote it??

small taglist: @howdysebby (happy early birthday!) @sometimesanalice (thanks for the eyes alexa!) @notroosterbradshaw @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @rae-gar-targaryen @jupitercomet @sunderlust @softspiderling @seasonsbloom @heartsofminds @cloudycluster

[pencileraser1]

things i noticed/thoughts about most recent rewatches of dps (plus laserdisk deleted scenes):

whenever theres a group scene i've started watching the characters that the story isn't focusing on to see what they do and i've been having a fun time with that. pitts and cameron specifically seem to almost always be doing something interesting in the background.

hopkins!!!! my favorite minor character who somehow got character development despite having like 2 lines!!!! the last guy to stand on the desk but he did it!!!

sometimes i do like to think about what the rest of the students thought about the dead poets society, esp in alternate timeline neil lives dps keeps meeting universe. like yeah theres this guy in their class whose one of the most credited students in the school and we think he maybe started a cult. idk though. but that group runs out into the woods every few days to do god knows what and one of them keeps talking about "dead poets honor" whatever that means and holy shit welton star student neil perry started a cult.

i watched the movie with headphones. and maybe it's because ive seen this movie Far too many times and mabe i'm listening too hard but it was Really obvious sometimes when audio was added in post production. llke in the sweaty toothed madman scene when you can hear laughing and to be fair the camera is behind their heads. but it does Not look like anyone's laughing. my favorite is at the end of the phone call to chris scene where knox is like i'm gonna seize the day!! and runs up the stairs and the poets are cheering him on and neil is sort of yelling "carpe!!!!" and i could be wrong but i'm like 75% certain that the person singing is Also rsl so now neil is just speaking two times at once somehow. anyways it didn't ruin the experience for me or anything it was maybe just a little bit funny to notice but very sorry if this did ruin anyone's viewing.

people talk a lot about how rsl and ethan hawke really made their characters what they are but i have to add dylan kussman to that list. I get the impression that older versions of the movie didn't really give as much depth to cameron and watching dylan kussmans performance is like. he Knew who his character was so fucking well and it shows!! like the deleted scene of them getting clubs assigned. like i could tell So Much about cameron from that scene

for how little she actually appeared, there is an emphasis put on the fact that neil's mom smokes pretty frequently. and i think that's interesting considering neil is one of two poets shown actively smoking. neil's mom doesn't appear for very long in the movie but during that time it definitely seems like the movie is intentionally making parallels between the two, particularly in the last argument with neil's father. neil and his mother are both sitting for almost the whole time, which contrasts with his father who is standing. they are both almost powerless in this scene. they stand up at almost the same time. anyways there's a couple different possibilities for what this could mean? that i've though of? 1. to show that neil's mother is in a similar situation to the one neil is in in regards to neil's father and 2. maybe a stretch here but the theory that neil inherited his mental illness at least partially from his mother. i'm pretty sure 1 was fully intentional on the directors part, not entirely sure about 2 though

unmanned flying desket scene: it's probably cause he and ethan wrote the scene themselves but the way rsl talks in this scene feels more like the way he talks in general than the rest of the script. like briefly neil perry is talking in rsl's voice. one of my absolute favorite scenes though the sarcastic dialogue is so good.

the light of knowledge at the first shot of the film vs. todd standing on his desk at the last shot of the film paralel

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for having a foursome without my partner while in a committed relationship?

I, 18f, am in a relationship with my partner who I will call Mike, 21m. Our relationship started in January when we meet on a hookup sight, and we liked the hookup enough to keep seeing each other and then we developed feelings. I'm from a pretty rural place and therefore the pickings of good men are slim so it felt like I hit the jackpot when I met Mike cause he was funny and didn't pressure me sexually and could actually make me cum.

But as our relationship became more serious I noticed things that were bothering me like how he's hardly on his phone so he doesn't text me back for anywhere from 2 to over 24 hours at a time.

He also in the beginning wasn't very good at communicating which lead me to not knowing what he wants from our relationship. He also wouldn't tell me he couldn't make plans until right before, or even after, the plans were meant to start. This happened often because he doesn't tell his parents that he has other plans when they ask him to do something (he still lives with his parents) and it even happened a couple times with his friends.

This is a slightly big issue to me because I have trauma based abandonment issues and BPD, and I will get upset and have an episode. Obviously it's not his fault I have these episodes and he's not causing them on purpose, but having episodes that often was negatively effecting my mental health.

My best friend Ken and roommate, 18n, and our two other friends, Julian, 18n, and Mac, 20n, had to witness the toll these episodes had on my mental health as I grew more depressed and anxious during the 5 months I allowed this to happen. They continuously encouraged me to either speak to him about his behavior or break up and I ended up talking to him and his behavior seemed to get better. (For context I only can see him about once a week because he has a job with long hours and works on his dad's farm on top of that)

Around this time my friends starting having threesomes together (Mac and Julian are ex fuck buddies and Mac and Ken are engaged) and they kept making jokes about how it should be a foursome/I should join then.

I brought these jokes up to Mike one of the times he was going to hang out with my friends incase made the joke in front of him as i didn't want him to go in unprepared. He said I should just "have sex with them to get the joke to stop" and I was like "??? We agreed to be exclusive, that would be cheating. Also if I wanted them to stop I could just ask" and he was like "yeah I guess but I still think you should just have sex with them. Just do it" I changed the subject cause I couldn't tell if he was joking and it made me uncomfortable.

I told my friends later when we were alone and they told me that was him giving me the go to have sex with them.

So I did, even though I held some reservations that he might have been jokinh. I had a foursome with them, and as I am the photographer of the group, took lots of photos and pictures and even sent the photos and pictures to the groupchat we share so the others could have them.

Then after it ended I started to second guess myself and deleted all the photos from my phone and texted Mike that I really needed to talk to him, like sooner then we usually would (since I had just seen him typically I wouldn't see him until next week). I felt gross like I had cheated, which is something I have always vehemently been against, and betrayed Mike's trust as we're in a committed relationship. I admitted these feelings to my friends and they said it wasn't cheating cause he told me too and even if he hadn't he was still horrible to me and he deserved it.

Only the last part made me feel even worse cause I don't believe anyone deserves to be cheated on.

I ended up telling Mike everything and he told me that it wasnt cheating because I "was basically just a promoted camera man" and that he had told me to do it anyway. But them he started making jokes about it. Like if I asked if he wanted to watch a show, he'd say "I don't watch TV shows with dirty cheaters" or things like "oh yeah, Mac, your other boyfriend" or "yeah i know how close you and Ken are" and just generally seems to get quieter when i bring up those three friends. I would originally think the comments were teasing as he's a playful guy but he started to say it enough that I can't tell if there's actually truth to it and a part of him thinks I'm a cheater, or all of him thinks I'm a cheater and he's lying that he's fine about it to not hurt my feelings/ruin our relationship.

Every time I voice my feelings to my friends (even the ones I didn't have sex with) they tell me that I'm not in the wrong but I feel like I definitely am in the wrong and a cheater, and I think that Mike might feel that way too. So I've come to Tumblr to look for unbiased options on whether or not I am and asshole and a cheater for having a foursome while in a committed relationship?

What are these acronyms?

[onestopfanficshop]

babysitter's club

pairing/warnings: hobie brown x f!reader; she/her pronouns used! cursing, some smooching, potential misuse of british slang (i'm sorry brits 😭), no phonetic spelling of hobie's accent, mayday being chaotic and adorable, reader and hobie talk about their future (kids), hobie and reader get to pretend to be domestic homeowners for a night, absolutely illegal amounts of fluff

word count: 3k

author's note: WOW okay. this took me over two months (?!?) to write. this is what happens when you take summer classes to get ahead 😔 but ANYWAYS! i hope you guys enjoy this!

"Only give her the one with carrots and the apples if she gets really fussy, okay? Tonight is peas, and... she's made it very clear how she feels about peas, so, good luck," you heard Peter say, chuckling as he closed the fridge and explained more of Mayday's feeding schedule to Hobie.

"Do I look okay?" MJ asked, stealing your attention away from the scene in the kitchen as she fussed with her hair in the hallway mirror.

"You look absolutely perfect," you reassured her, slightly adjusting the necklace that she was wearing. "Make sure you don't forget your umbrella though; I heard it was supposed to rain."

You saw the boys approaching you two from the kitchen and broke out in a grin.

"You lovebirds have nothing to worry about. We'll take good care of Mayday. Right, Hob?" you said, glancing sideways at you him.

"Yes ma'am," he confirmed, giving you a two-finger salute.

"If you guys need anything, just call, okay?" MJ said over her shoulder, stepping through the door that Peter was holding open for her.

Do not call, Peter mouthed when MJ's back was turned, pointing his two fingers at his eyes and then pointing them at you two. You waited until the door closed before you started to giggle.

"Looks like somebody's trying to get shagged tonight," Hobie chuckled, leaning against the living room wall as Mayday giggled happily from where she was seated on her playmat.

"Hobie! There is a child here for crying out loud!" you say exasperated, swatting at his shoulder.

"What? It's not like she knows what that means, love," he responded, looking at you with a lazy grin.

"Can you just—at least attempt to behave, please? I'm not trying to babysit two babies tonight, thank you very much," you say, rolling your eyes as you plant your hands on your denim-clad hips, eyes raking over the messy state of the living room. You made a mental note to pick up Mayday's toys off the floor before MJ and Peter came back.

"Listen, all I'm saying is—,” he pauses, crouching down in front of Mayday and picking up a toy that she had dropped to give it back to her. "If my theory's right—which it most definitely is—we'll be babysitting two babies in no time," he said mischievously.

"Oh my God. You did not just say that," you said, moving to sit cross-legged to the side of Mayday. You tried to stay serious, but you're unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

"I'm only teasing, promise," Hobie grinned. "You wanna order in?"

"Already did. Wanted to be 100% certain that I was the one who ordered," you say, learning to the side a little as you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and unlocked it to check the status of your delivery.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Hobie asked innocently. Your thumbs pause their scrolling as you look up at Hobie, utterly unamused.

"Because I absolutely will not be bombarded with those ridiculously spicy wings you got for us last time. Genuinely unhinged behavior on your end to not warn me," you say, shuddering as you recall the horrors that your tongue experienced last week. Hobie threw is head back as he laughed, watching your face curl up at the memory.

"Ah, I wish you could've seen it, May-May," he told the child, his face lighting up as he heard Mayday giggle upon hearing his laugh. "Her eyes were so bloody red, like this," he said, chuckling as he pointed to the sleeve on his shirt.

"He's exaggerating, honey; don't mind him," you say, tickling Mayday under the chin, causing her to laugh even more. "My eyes were not that red, Hob," you protested as you smiled at Mayday.

"They absolutely were. I have photo evidence," he rebutted.

"Wha—you took pictures?!" you ask incredulously, whipping your head towards him. "Hobie, I swear on everything, you better dele—"

You're interrupted by the sound of rapid knocking on the door, causing Mayday to make a startled noise as she fearfully grabbed at your arm with her tiny hands. Hobie made his way over to the door as you tried to soothe the girl.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, honey," you say soothingly, hoisting her up and holding her snug on your hip as you untangled your legs to stand up. "It's just the door, bub." You watched as Hobie kicked the door closed with one leg, balancing the pizza on one hand while he locked the door with his other hand.

"Dinner's served," Hobie said triumphantly, setting the box down on dining table.

"We gotta get you your dinner too, huh, May?" you said, gingerly setting her down in her high chair before you tugged open the fridge. You squinted, staring down the rows of puréed baby food before turning to Hobie. "Which one of these are we supposed to give to her again?" you ask, picking up one of the cold jars and turning it over in your hands.

"Tonight is P-E-A-S," Hobie says, recalling what Peter told him. He leans on the kitchen island with his forearms as he skims the paper with the list of instructions that MJ and Peter left for you two. "And then after that is her bath, and—"

"Why on Earth did you just spell pe—"

Your sentence is cut short by Hobie swiftly covering your mouth his his large hand, eyes going wide.

"She hates 'em," he whispered. "Even sayin' the word P-E-A-S throws her into a hissy fit."

"Okay, well—," you throw up your hands in disbelief before planting them on your hips. "When she sees the jar of green P-E-A-S, I'm pretty dam- dang sure that she's gonna know what they are," you pointed out, catching yourself before you swore as you tugged open the drawers to find a tiny spoon for Mayday.

"Nice save," Hobie said, smirking as he took a seat at the dinner table in front of the baby.

"Listen, if she's gonna be upset eating this, you have to be the one to feed her," you sighed. You pulled the jar out of fridge and set it down in front of Hobie, along with the spoon.

"Why me?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Because she literally adores you?" you replied, as if it was common knowledge.

"Who doesn't?" he said, grinning.

"Alright, funny guy. We'll see if you're smiling when you have the 'vegetable-that-must-not-be-named' thrown all over you," you said, smirking as you opened the pizza box to help yourself. Hobie's hand covered the lid of the jar, and he gave it a firm twist, opening the jar with a pop.

"That's not very fair, love, innit?" he said, frowning at you as you got up to tuck a bib around Mayday's neck.

"It's actually very fair, in my opinion. This is payback for destroying my taste buds last week," you say, settling back into your chair and giving him an expectant look.

"You're never letting that go, eh?" he said, shaking his head. He scooped some of the food onto the baby-sized spoon, gauging Mayday's expression as he cautiously moved the spoon towards her mouth. The baby tentatively accepted the food, tasting it for a second before she scrunched up her face in disgust. Just like you predicted, she spit the food out of her mouth, nearly missing Hobie's shirt as she let out a short wail.

"Uh-oh," you say smugly, taking a bite out of one of your pizza slices. "You having fun yet?"

"May, c'mon," he pleaded with the infant, ignoring your quip. "S'not that bad, I promise," he said, trying to get her to take another spoonful. But Mayday remained defiant, turning her head to the side when Hobie brought the spoon to her mouth again as she let out little cries of frustration. He set the spoon down with a sigh.

"Man, why even make her eat this if she hates it?" he asked to no one in particular, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Kid’s clearly miffed. I say we give her the one with the apples n' the carrots."

"Absolutely not. You get babies on the sweeter stuff now, and they'll never touch vegetables again," you declare adamantly, sliding the baby food over to yourself. You turned around and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer behind you.

"Look, Mayday!" you say cheerfully. You grabbed the spoon, scooped out a bit of the purée, and slathered it on your pizza slice. You mentally prepared yourself for the taste before you took an exaggerated bite, and the infant watched you curiously.

"See? It's really good!" you reassure her, encouraging her to try a spoonful of her food again. This time, she accepted the food from you, although her face still scrunched up every time she took a bite.

"You're a bloody baby whisperer," Hobie said in awe. "Are sure she likes it now?" he asked, taking note of the faces Mayday was making.

"Yeah, she just—" you paused, scraping out the last of pea purée and feeing to her. "A baby's gag reflex is closer to the front of their mouth. That's why they'll sometimes make faces when they eat a new food. Doesn't mean they hate it; they're just trying to decide if they like it or not. Right Mayday?" you say. The baby cooed in response, drooling out a little bit of her dinner. You lifted up the corner of her bib and wiped off the food that had gotten around the corners, and Hobie grinned as he picked up the empty jar, rotating it around and showing it off to Mayday.

"Nice job, kid. Did all that on your own," he said grinning, holding his palm up for a high five (Mayday ended up missing his palm almost entirely, but when you have limited fine motor skills, it's the effort that counts).

"Good job, May!" you beamed, pinching her cheeks. "Alright, lets get you cleaned up for your bath, yeah? We gotta let Hobie eat," you tell her, picking her up from her high chair.

"Finally," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

"So unbelievably dramatic!" you called over your shoulder as you carried Mayday to the bathroom.

Bath time, thankfully, went relatively smoothly (well, minus the part where May tried to play the "water drums", which got an ungodly amount of water onto the floor and subsequently, onto you. You're 99% sure Hobie taught her to do that at some point and made another mental note to lecture him about it later). After you dried her up and got some lotion and baby powder on her, you changed her diaper before getting her into her pajamas. By this point, she was pretty exhausted, and you could see her little eyes fighting to stay open as you laid her down in her crib.

"You were awesome today, May. Get some shut-eye for me, okay?" you said softly, kissing the top of her head. She was already asleep before you even finished your sentence, and you smiled at her one last time before you turned off the lights and quietly shut the door.

Hobie's head turned away from the TV at the sound of your footsteps padding on the floor, and he looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

"You look like you've gone swimming," he remarked in an amused tone, looking you up and down.

"You try giving a hyperactive eleven month-old a bath," you reply, sighing as you plopped down next to him on the sofa. You looked down at the splashed cuffs of your jeans before shrugging. "It'll dry, right?"

"For sure," Hobie nodded. "But aren't most eleven month-olds hyperactive?"

"Yeah, but most eleven month-olds aren't Mayday," you say, chuckling as you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

"True that," he laughed, draping his arm across your shoulder.

You two sat in a few minutes of comfortable silence, watching as a random 90s romcom played on screen at a low volume before you spoke again.

"Hey, Hob?" you ask.

"Hm?" he responded, still half-focused on the movie.

"I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest," you say. You adjust your position so that you're lying on your back across Hobie's lap, hands folded on your chest. He tears his eyes away from the screen and gives you his full attention.

"What is it, love?" he asked, brows furrowing slightly as he looked down at you.

"Did you teach Mayday to play the drums with water?" you ask, fighting back a smile.

"No...," he said mischievously, raising his eyebrows at you.

"Hobie!" you exclaimed quietly, trying not to wake up Mayday as you slapped his thigh.

"Nah, I really didn't. Swear down," he said truthfully, laughing softly as he put his hands up in protest. "Really, you oughta be lookin' at Gwendy for that. She let the kid have a go at her drums once—it was adorable. I mean, also terrible, because she kept missing the actual drums, but still adorable."

"Oh my God, that is too cute. I would've paid money to see that," you replied, fighting back a yawn.

"Yeah? I think Pav and Miles got it on video. I'll have em' send it to you," he chuckled, tracing random shapes on your cheekbones with his thumb. "You tired?"

"Yeah, but...," (this time, you let out your yawn) "...don't let me fall asleep here. I still have to pick up May's toys and put them away. Don't want Peter and MJ coming back to a mess," you sighed.

"Already did that, love," he said. You let your head loll to the side as you looked at the corner of the living room—sure enough, the toys were all neatly put away in the toy chest, and Mayday's playmat was rolled up and tucked away.

"You're an actual lifesaver," you say. You're about to let your eyes relax before you remember another thing, shooting them open again.

"Shit. I gotta do the dishes," you say. You're about to sit up before Hobie plants a hand on your torso, gently pushing you back down.

"Took care of that, too. And recycled the box. And the jar," he tells you, grinning down at you. "I'm a world-class babysitter, c'mon now."

"And a world-class boyfriend," you say, smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. He grabbed both sides of your face and started attacking your face with kisses as best he could at the awkward angle, causing you to let out a giggle.

"Hobie! You're gonna break your neck," you protest against his lips.

"Mm, small price to pay for getting to kiss you," he said, smiling.

"Nuh-uh, because then you'll have to get surgery, and you'll have to go through physical therapy, where they give you a bunch of instructions on what to do to get better, and we all know you hate being told what to do–"

"Alright, alright, point made," he laughed, giving you one last kiss before sitting up straight.

"God, I had no idea that taking care of a baby for a few hours would make me this tired," you sigh, rubbing at your eyes. "How on Earth do Peter and MJ manage to do it every single day?"

"Yeah... s'kinda mad when you really think about it," Hobie said pensively. "I mean, it's non-stop from the moment they're born 'til they move out. Guess you gotta take it day by day, yeah?"

You made a small sound of understanding, pondering what he said.

"How do you feel about... y'know, having kids? Like one day?" you ask quietly, craning your neck to up at him.

“Why? Are you…?” he trailed off, looking at your abdomen with raised eyebrows.

“Nonono, I’m not,” you reassured him, giggling. “I was just wondering.”

"Well, of course," he replied, sinking into the couch a bit more. "I love kids. I'd wanna adopt a whole bunch of 'em. Don't know if I'd be any good at the whole parenting thing, but..." he trailed off, chuckling to himself.

"You would be. I can see the way you are with Mayday; you're practically a natural," you said decidedly. "Me on the other hand... I dunno."

"You don't know?" Hobie said, snorting out a laugh. You turned your head to look at him, frowning.

"Don't laugh at me!" you protested, swatting at his shoulder.

"M'not laughing at you, swear," he said. "It's just funny you're saying that because you were a natural with May. You'd be an amazing mum."

"Really?" you ask, craning to look up at him.

"Really," Hobie confirmed, planting a quick kiss on the tip of your nose. You started to giggle, but the sound was quickly drowned out by a loud clap of thunder in the distance. You sat upright, startled by the noise as you peered behind the couch at the windows, and you were met by the sight of a sudden downpour.

"Oh God... I really hope that didn't wake up—"

Right on cue, you and Hobie heard the static noise of Mayday wailing through the baby monitor. You sighed as Hobie gently untangled himself from you, patting your thigh twice.

"I'll go get her," he reassured you, leaving the living room and disappearing into the nursery. You flopped back down on the couch again, groaning when another clap of thunder struck a few seconds later. You heard the sound of Hobie's socks shuffling on the ground, causing you to sit up and turn your head. You were greeted by the sight of a sleepy and disgruntled Mayday, who was clinging to the collar of Hobie's worn t-shirt. Her hair was frazzled, and her poor eyes were red from all the crying.

"Aw, it's alright, honey," you said soothingly. You outstretched your arms to Hobie, and he handed her to you to hold her. She curled up in a ball against your chest, watery blue eyes looking up at you as a few more lone sniffles came out.

"It's just a bit of thunder, love. You're alright as long as we're here, yeah?" Hobie chimed in. He sat next to you now, smoothing down the red hair on the baby's head in an attempt to calm her.

"You wanna stay here with us until the storm's over?" you asked gently. May let out a soft coo in response, so you took that as a yes. You grabbed the throw blanket that was sitting next to you on the couch and draped it across all three of you, and you let your head drop onto Hobie's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and Mayday to tuck you both in. It wasn't long before the three of you fell into a peaceful sleep.

The door opened an hour later with the soft click of the door unlocking.

“Well, that was the most fun I’ve had in a while, honey,” Peter said, kissing the top of MJ’s forehead.

“Until it started pouring,” she replied, laughing. “What d’you think the kids are up to?”

Mary-Jane’s question was answered as soon as they rounded the corner. They were greeted by the sight of the three of you tangled up with the fluffy throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Hobie’s head rested on top of yours, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist. Your arms were around Mayday, who was sound asleep—a string of drool was dangling from her mouth, which was precariously close to landing on your jeans.

“Well, would you look at that,” Peter whispered, chuckling. He dug around in his pocket and grabbed his phone to snap a pic of the sweet scene in front of them.

“We’re definitely framing this.”

[theblueseassoul]

“Exauhsted.”

It’s been a long day.

I might make a part two.

Song listened to while writing: “What the water gave me - Florence + The Machine”

Zayne x Reader

Love and deep space fan fiction

Talk of mental health.

No use of Y/n. Gender neutral reader. Read in the second person. Established relationship.

This past week has been hell. And the most annoying part is that you have absolutely no idea why. This happened once in a while, but it hadn’t happened in so long so you thought you’d be able to escape it for a while longer. Instead, here you sat curled up in your work chair, arms around your legs and gazing out of the window nearby once more. At least it had a nice view of the city, you thought, as you watched time pass. You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment. Not even a few moments later, you heard someone call out your name. You winced, hoping if you hid your head in your arms they wouldn’t see you, but you knew that isn’t how it worked. They called your name again.

When you looked up, you found Alexander. Alexander was your co-worker, and often took your kindness for granted. You worked hard, everyone knew that, you even took on missions that you weren’t even required to do. You loved your job. This was something you’d dreamed of for… you don’t know how long. So of course you put everything you had into it, you were protecting people by doing your job. It was worth it. However, Alexander made you hate it just for a moment. a brief moment but a moment nonetheless. He grinned, brown hair annoyingly messy as was his uniform. “Are you done with that assignment I asked you to help me with?” He asked, leaning against your desk.

You raised a brow slightly but offered your politest smile. You could have done better on a better day, however this was not one of them, so that was the best he would get. “I did. I saw you had a lot of errors though. You missed a lot of dangerous-“ as you pulled it up to show him what had gone wrong, he waved his hand and cut you off.

“It’s whatever. No one actually reads them.” Alexander’s tone was dismissive, not even glancing at the highlighted sections. You looked at the title of the document and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It was a complete overview of one of the sectors of the city getting more wanderers by the day, and metaflux’s. You knew people read them because you were people. These were given out to hunters for assignments to know what to expect. They were updated frequently and needed to be as accurate as possible for both hunter and civilian safety. You looked back at him.

“Yes, we do.” You stated, losing the patience you had to smile. “It’s actually vital for us hunters and the civilians who might come across these areas. You know that right? That lives depend on these reports?”

He scoffed, mumbling dismissive none sense and waving his hand in the air once more before saying “thanks for finishing it anyways. See you tomorrow yeah?” As he turned his back, you rolled your eyes and put your head face in your hands, mocking him under your breath.

“See you tomorrow! Whatever.” You murmured and once you knew he was out of the room, groaned in annoyance as you leaned back into your chair. “No one reads it anyways.” You mocked again, shaking your head. “Come on. It’s like you forgot the…” you went on into a nonsensical ramble and continued, until you noticed your phone buzzing next to your mouse. You sat up, picking up your phone and reading the caller ID. It read ‘snowy seal.’ It was Zayne, your doctor, and your boyfriend who didn’t call out of the blue often. You raised a brow and picked up, and he spoke almost immediately.

“There you are.” He hummed into the speaker, and as you started to question him, he continued “I texted you when my shift ended. Usually you’re done by now, are you working over time? You know you shouldn’t.” He warned you. You smiled softly. You knew he was lecturing you again, but it made you feel all warm inside knowing he cared so much. He was stern about it, but he was always that way. It was part of his charm.

“No, I was just..” you sighed, blowing a raspberry as you stood up. You turned off your computer with one hand while you held the phone up to your ear with the other “A co worker wanted to speak with me. Did you need something?” You asked, putting your jacket on your fore arm and picking up your back. He paused for a moment, the sound of a car rushing by before he started talking again.

“I’m waiting outside. Hurry, let’s go home.” Zayne said, and you swore you could hear the soft grin through the phone. Once you had everything and said goodbye to everyone, you left, and it only took a few steps before you heard your boyfriend’s cool voice calling your name. You smiled in almost relief, and wrapped your arms around him immediately. He hugged you back, one arm firmly around your waist and the other against your back holding you close to him.

At home, after you’d gotten changed and showered, you decided to do the dishes. They were piling up anyways. So you rolled your sleeves up, and started to empty the dishwasher. Usually, this task came easily to you. Of course you had your moments when motivation wasn’t at its peak, but if you forced yourself to do it, you would find yourself more content by the end of it. It was the same with a lot of house hold chores. You didn’t mind doing them, it was your house, of course you should take care of it. But it was just.. hard sometimes. You felt like a child because of it, how emotional you got over small things. Bouts of depression, Zayne called it. When it was hard to do anything at all. You forced your way through it though, with the help of your trusty doctor.

While you put the dishes away, you had dropped a plastic cup. You clicked your tongue softly in annoyance, “god..” you murmured and picked it up, rolling your eyes at yourself before putting it in its cabinet. Then, after a while, you dropped a spatula after letting go too early. This too made your patience wane. You felt the pricking feeling in the back of your eyes when you got frustrated, and got even more frustrated. You sighed and placed the spatula in its drawer, muttering “stay.” Before closing it. The last straw was when you were putting away pans, when they all fell out of the cabinet because they wouldn’t fit. At this point you weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or cry. The clashing and clanging was more than enough to wince, and you had to step back for a moment and try not to absolutely break down then and there. You flexed your hands, taking a deep breath. “This is ridiculous to get upset about.” You told yourself. You headed to the fridge for a drink, and on the way.. you ended up ramming your side into the island corner.

Zayne had walked into the kitchen then. Just as you simply gave up, sliding against the island and to the floor, covering your face. He heard you muttering to yourself about something stupid, being annoyed, and such. He knew how you got. You must’ve had a hard day, he thought. Or week. Or month. And so he carefully knelt down beside you, hand on your arm. “Honey.” He called, softly, in a tone he only ever used with you to calm you. Usually you felt special. Right now you were just filled with conflicting emotions you didn’t really know what to do or how to respond.

“Not even something to get upset about. Just dishes.” You groaned to yourself as you pulled your head up from your hands. Zayne carefully pulled you up to your feet, and walked you into your bedroom, rubbing your shoulder the whole time. He listened to your nonesense words, talking about how “I don’t even know why they all fell out.” Or “I’m so clumsy today. What is wrong with me.” Sometimes it wasn’t words, just noises sort of mushed together. He understood anyways.

Zayne sat you down on the bed, and crawled in beside you. He pulled the comforter over the both of you and opened an arm towards you, offering a hug if you wanted it. You leaned into him almost immediately, and his arm wrapped around you tightly, to keep you firmly against his side. He was silent for a while. He usually waited for you to start talking about what bothered you, because he didn’t want you to talk about it if you didn’t feel up to it. You did this time, but you didn’t even know what the issue was. That was what made it so frustrating. He rubbed his thumb against your arm, and asked softly “rough day?”

You sniffed. “I don’t know.” You shook your head, and he nodded slightly, to let you know he was listening. You continued, “I did what I usually do. I fought wanderers. Did reports. Alexander, he handed me an unfinished report and asked if I could do it because he had so much to do and I said yes.”

“The man who never finishes on time?”

“Yeah.” You nodded to Zayne’s question. “So I did. I found some stuff wrong so I corrected them and told him about it and he said..” you rolled your eyes, your lips pulling into a frown “no one ever reads them so why doesn’t it matter.” You threw a hand up slightly. “Like he doesn’t know that it’s actually crucial. Like what it a civilian wandered there and got hurt because we didn’t keep them from it because the report said there wasn’t any danger but there was. Someone could die. It’s our job to protect these people, you know?” You dropped your hand helplessly and shuffled closer to Zayne. “But that isn’t even what made me upset. It was dropping dishes.” You scoffed.

He hummed softly as he listened to you, leaning his head against yours as you curled into him further. When you stopped your ramble, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head before he spoke “it sounds like you’re just overwhelmed. It happens, it’s alright.” Zayne said, rocking you back and forth slightly with him. His words were always carefully chosen, you could tell by the slow way he spoke and the pauses between his sentences. It was a nice grounder though. “You’ve been working very hard lately. I’m proud of you, you know.” This was just above a whisper, just for your ears. He rested his chin against your head again.

“You should take a day off.” Zayne suddenly suggested. You looked up at him, puzzled. He glanced at you and chuckled softly and continued to explain “you deserve it. You haven’t taken a day off in.. ages. If you do, I’ll stay here and take care of you. You can come into the office with me as well, if you want.” He said, squeezing your shoulders gently. You debated it, tilting your head into him and looking down at your hands laying in your lap.

“Mm.” You hummed softly in thought. You debated it, wondering if it was a good idea. You have been working hard lately, it wouldn’t hurt to have a day off. Just one. With Zayne, no less. He was usually drowning with work, it would be nice to have a just the two of you day. You nodded “I’d like that.” You finally said, looking up at him.

He smiled softly, a smile he only gave you. Warm, and filled with so much love it made your heart melt every time you saw it. “Good.” He kissed your forehead, and then your nose bridge, the tip of your nose, and then two firm ones against your cheeks, kissing away the trails the tears from before had left. “Let’s get you to bed early then. I’ll make dinner, after you’ll take your medicine, and tomorrow we will have lots of staying home to do.” He said, happily. You nodded, a warm smile spreading over your lips to match his.

[summer-nights19]

Hii! Can you make a Murasakibara x reader . Murasakibara calls his s/o by a cute nickname after his basketball practice is over and his s/o came to see if his practice is over so they both can go home together after school + the reaction of GOM when they get to know murasakibara is dating someone.? Bye, have a great day /night!

Hi anon ! Thank you so much, and this is really cute, thanks for the mental picture <33

Reading you guys' KnB imagines always makes my day, so please continue to send em in !

When his friends find out you're dating

Murasakibara x gn reader

(AU in which the GOM remain teammates after middle school)

@neoo you might like this one

You took your phone out of your bag to check the time as you walked towards the school gym. If you remembered correctly, Atsushi's basketball practice should have ended around five minutes ago. It was the last practice session of a very busy season, so he'd promised to take you out as soon as it was finished. When you asked where, he said it was a surprise and that he'd take you there after practice. The more you thought about spending the evening with your beloved boyfriend after a few weeks of barely seeing him outside of school, the giddier you felt. When you finally reached the gym and pushed the door open, you saw Atsushi talking with the other members of the generation of miracles as they walked out of the changing room. Even though most members of the generation of miracles were pretty tall, Murasakibara still managed to tower over them. He'd changed out of his basketball kit and into a loose fitting black shirt with short sleeves and grey sweatpants. His hair was also up- he knew that was a weakness of yours. You didn't mind that he dressed more casually- in fact, as you checked out his long, toned arms, you realised how much you liked it. As soon as Murasakibara saw you standing and starin at the door, he smiled slightly and walked over to you.

"Hey baby, you ready to leave after this ?" You opened your mouth to answer but Kuroko beat you to it.

"What ? Murasakibara and Y/N ? Why didn't anybody tell me ?" You tried not to laugh at the look of utter shock on his face as his eyes darted between you and Atsushi. Aomine cut in, frowning

"Yeah ! And why does he get to date someone that hot ? Y/N, if you ever grow bored of this dry ass man then you know where to find-" This time, it was Atsushi who cut Aomine off by shoving him in the opposite direction to you.

"Over my dead body," he said, glaring at Aomine. The latter simply smirked and raised his eyebrows

"Control yourself, Aomine. Anyway, you're all just idiots. This has been rather obvious for a few weeks now. Whenever Murasakibara has free time, he spends it with Y/N, and he always takes every opportunity to text them during practice. Akashi has noticed it too. While I normally wouldn't condone dating within a friendship group, their signs are perfectly matched," Midorima explained, a triumphant look on his face, while Akashi stood there silently. You hadn't expected much of a reaction from him, because you realised on some level he'd always known, and had given you and Atsushi small windows of time in which you could meet and talk all throughout the last basketball season. When you'd thanked him for all his help, he'd just nodded and smiled slightly.

You listened and tried to hold in your laughter as Aomine and Midorima began to squabble over his remark. These guys were idiots, but they were your idiots. They'd been your best friends since middle school and you were glad that you finally had the opportunity to share this with them. Kise finally broke the spat, smiling in your direction as he spoke.

"Yeah, you guys really weren't as discreet as you thought. I mean, Murasakibaracchi literally has a picture of you in his basketball jersey as his phone lockscreen. Anyway, though I agree with Aominecchi that this is slightly unfair, I wish you two all the best. You look really cute together, as well as being well matched,"

"Yeah," Kuroko agreed, smiling at you as you blushed.

"Aww guys... thank you so much ! We would have told you earlier, but we were afraid it would change things between the group,"

"Nah. No matter what happens, we'll stick together. We've made it this far, right ?" Aomine replied, and the others nodded in agreement. Atsushi put an arm around your waist and looked at the guys.

"Now that you know, I'd appreciate it if you stopped wasting our time. I'm taking Y/N on a date tonight. Also, keep your hands to yourselves. Y/N is mine," he said, glaring at Aomine and Kise. You smiled up at him, your heart beating faster as he revealed this new possessive side to his nature. He squeezed you a little before hoisting you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

"Wha- Atsushi ! What do you think you're doing ?" you asked, squirming in his grasp playfully.

"We'll get there faster like this,". He tightened his grip around you and you let yourself relax, breathing in his warm scent as he carried you out of the gym.

"Bye guys !" you said, smiling as Atsushi carried you out. The others smiled back at you, waving as they watched you and Atsushi leave the gym.

As soon as you'd left, Kuroko opened his mouth again

"So that's why Murasakibara was asking about where the rose garden was,"

Kise facepalmed and laughed a little

"Yes, it was. He wanted to surpris them with a truly romantic spot. God, you really are dense at times, Kurokocchi,"

Masterlist

[ilovebuckers5]

.·:·.✧ Say No pt 2✧.·:·.

NIka Muhl x Fem!Reader

"and I would say all of this but I don't want to ruin the moment"

word count - 2.2k

themes:

-smut!

-slight fluff

A/N - I love this part sm omg. no other notes just read it and enjoy.....

It only took a couple days for people to start seeing the glances that me and Nika shot at each other throughout the days. Of course KK noticed first. Something tells me that shes like a child who makes fun of you for having a romantic life. If you can even call it that.

The more I got to know Nika, the more I wanted to date her. The way her dark eyes become more visible in the sun and the way her skin absolutely glows at the beach. All the time actually. I couldn't help but look up to my ceiling on nights that we weren't together and just pray that she felt the same way, even though we were trying to not date. Just keep it casual.

Some nights got so tiring not being in her arms that I would call Paige and beg her to send Nika over to my room. The entire summer was like this before she asked me out. Yes SHE asked ME out. Everything started to fall into place once July hit.

"Hey how are you doing?"

It had been silent for a little while. Nika decided to sit in my bed for a little while. It was a couple days after her ex broke up with her and we- yeah anyways. The silent almost became deadly to sit in so I broke it. Nika's head popped up from her phone and faced my direction. Her eyes were still a bit red with dilated pupils resting in the middle. She gently set her phone down in her lap, giving me undivided attention.

"Huh?"

Her voice reached a higher pitch at the end of short response.

"You know. How are you?" I gestured my eyes down to Nika's phone that was sitting peacefully on her stomach. To be honest I really couldn't care less about how she felt about the breakup, I just wanted to know how her emotions were doing to know if I could pour my heart out now.

Spoiler alert, I couldn't.

"Oh. Shitty I guess. He tried apologizing"

Her hands moved up to her own strand of hair that was hanging in front of her eye and pushed it back behind her ear, still maintaining eye contact.

My jaw almost dropped agape but I kept my composure. I couldn't believe that this guy would even breakup with the Nika Muhl but trying to get her back after? Fucking insane. Inside my head I was praying that she didn't take him back because if he did I would just have to bang my head on the nightstand next to me.

"What a loser. What did you do?"

"I.." Nika's eyes drifted over to the curtain behind me, breaking our eye contact for the first time tonight. "I blocked him"

I couldn't help but let a small smile grow on my lips at the sound of those words leaving her mouth. I nudged her shoulder gently, causing a smile to pop up on her usually serious face.

"Uh hello good job! I swear every other girl would take him back and then get hurt again"

Nika didn't deserve to be hurt ever. Most people see her as this aggressive Aries that has the same mentality off court. They see her as a bitch who wont let you touch her but shes a hugger. She loves hugs and she adores being hugged. Nika loves hibiscus flowers and cherry flavored gum on occasions but usually spearmint. She doesn't like being ignored because that's the one thing she used to do to people. And she remembers the moment of people telling her that she hurt them and feeling her heart shatter. Shes a softie when people care for her. Like a bee. Don't swat at them, and they wont sting.

"Thanks. I still miss him though"

Fuck.

"That's ok. Its normal I mean its only been a couple days since you guys broke up. Heartbreak lingers for a while. I promise someone better will come along"

Nice.

Nika sighed softly and let out a short groan before looking back down at her phone.

------------------------------------------------------------

july 7th 2023

Thursday. The day not even a machine could wipe from my memory. I woke up to Qadence sitting next to me holding a bucket beside her. I must've gotten drunk the night before

"Wednesdays go crazy" she said laughing as my eyes slowly blinked open

Last night had to be the blurriest time to imagine.

july 6th 2023

"No no let me stand on the table pleaseee" I whined into Caroline's ear while her hands were wrapped around my waist trying to get me to sit down. failing.

"Hey Nika why don't you give her a try?" KK yelled out while watching the chaos I was causing.

Nika gave an annoyed stare at KK before walking up to a drunk me that wouldn't let go of the edge of the table. Nika approached me with a calm look on her face and steady hands. Her fingers slowly wrapped around my waist and gently tugged me off of the table.

"Cmere time to go"

Even though Nika was just as drunk as I was, she seemed so collected. I mean collected enough to pull me into her arms without making out with me in front of everyone. A chill ran down my back as Nika carefully carried me to the exit. Not actually carried but you know what I mean.

Nika gently lifted my arms to help me get in Caroline's car before we drove off back to the hotel. Me and Nika used each other as support to get back to our room. The both of us plopped onto each other's beds and almost knocked out. But before either of us could fall asleep I looked over to see Nika crawling onto my bed. I felt her hand slither against my thigh once her body was fully next to me.

My eyes were immediately drawn to hers, which was focusing on my still lips.

"Can I?"

Nikas hands teased around the edge of my shorts, slightly unbuttoning the, with one hand. The moment I nodded yes both of her hands were at my waist, ripping my bottoms off. I held my breath until her fingers curled under the lace of my panties. She slowly slid them down my legs and then lifted me onto her lap. Her head was pressed against the bed board.

My clit dragged against the zipper of her leather skirt that I was needing to take off now. Without hesitating I pressed my lips against hers not even waiting to become sloppy. Nika's lipped wrapped around my tongue perfectly causing my legs to gently squeeze against the thighs that I was straddling. Her hands slowly made their way closer to my bare pussy, teasing with my folds.

"Fuck!" I whined out while trying to stay silent.

Nika easily swallowed every noise I made. while her traced around my hole teasing me into pleading for her to fuck me.

"Please.." I whined into Nika's mouth

"Please what? Use your words pretty"

"I need you to fuck me" I quickly gave in.

Nika quickly sent two of her fingers in me slowly pumping in and out. Her lips still sucking on mine gently. A louder moan left my mouth followed by me quickly grinding against her fingers.

"S-Shit"

Nika took my movements as a sign to quicken her pace. She curled her fingers up hitting all the right spots. Her patience was obviously not strong that night. I quickly came on her fingers, making her smirk at herself. Everything felt so right.

My walls that were clenched around her fingers slowly relaxed as she fucked me through my orgasm.

"Fuck don't stop"

I continued to grind my hips against her hand as she slowed down. of course she only wanted to make me come once before I got my turn.

"Up." I wrapped my hands around her thighs and gently lifted them up.

Nika was silent until I slipped my tongue onto her own clit that was helpfully bare. I flicked my tongue against her pussy just to tease her like she teased me. I began to gently pressed my tongue flat against her folds before diving into her.

With ease, my tongue collected everything that left her. before I even noticed that Nika's hands were tangled in my hair, her thighs wrapped aoround my ears. Sadly muffling her perfectly voiced whines.

I continued to lick and slurp at her folds before finally pulling away and licking my lips. Without doing anything else I crawling back up to her lips that now had lipstick smudged around. I noticed that a couple streaks of mascara had left her eyes but I chose to ignore that cause girl me too.

I remembered to let my tongue slip through my mouth and into hers before the taste of her left my tongue so that she could get a taste too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

july 7th 2023

After throwing up around four more times I got dressed into a tank top and some jeans. Today the entire team was headed to the aquarium for some reason. I decided to put my hair up in a clip instead of letting it down.

The only makeup I put on was some mascara and lipgloss before actually leaving my room and heading to the main lobby where I saw a couple of the girls sitting down.

Once everyone was ready, we decided to go in different cars and meet up at the aquarium. I was with Ice, KK, and Paige for today. The car ride was going smoothly until Paige decided to turn around and ask me probably the most out of pocket question to exist.

"Why did I hear squeaking last night? From your room actually" She was clearly laughing and trying to get under my skin. My face went blank as I stared into her with only annoyance in my eyes.

"Literally shut up." I snapped back and smiled sarcastically.

The aquarium was huge, way bigger than any that I've been to. The first thing I saw when I walked in was a school of blue ring angelfish surrounding the entrance. To my left was a restaurant and to my right was a souvenir shop. and right in front of me was Nika, Qadence, and Azzi sitting down in a couple chairs. Me and Nika locked eyes almost immediately but I looked away without hesitation.

I sat down across from her and pulled out my phone while waiting for everyone to arrive. I don't know if it was very obvious (it was) but I went straight to Nika's Instagram so that I could look at her without looking at her.

My fingers scrolled across her page until I felt a tap on my shoulder. I quickly shoved my phone into my pockets while turning it off. I turned around to see Ines and KK standing behind me laughing.

I gave both of them a menacing stare, threatening them with my eyes. they ran off to grab drinks from the restaurant.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The aquarium was fun and so fucking pretty. My favorite was the seahorses and otters. My phone was now full of pictures. One thing that threw me off was the crabs, oh and the fact that the entire team couldn't stop giggling when I even glanced in Nika's direction.

Every time I looked at her I saw a nervous look wash over her. It was honestly funny the way she couldn't look at me for shit.

After around 30 minutes of looking around the aquarium I sat down at the restaurant tables and looked at the menu. The entire building was painted in teal and blue shades no matter was direction you looked in.

Just as I was going to read my order to who I thought was a waiter, Nika stood above me with a worried frown plastered on her face. I gave a small smile at her before she sat down at the table I was out. she sat right in front of me and stared into my eyes before speaking.

"Alright. Shit I'm doing this. Ok, listen I know that I just got broken up with and shit but I really need to ask you something serious. I need all your attention on me please"

Nika's words were laced with worry but I turned over the menu I was previously looking at and stared right back at her. Was this really happening?

"Jesus this isn't happening. Is it really that unnoticeable. I like you. No I don't like you I love you."

I could notice that she was starting to panic. I look around to see Azzi and Paige behind us with a phone recording everything that was happening. That's how I picked up that this was real.

"Yes Nika yes"

I said with urgency, not letting Nika finish her sentence. Boom. We started dating. I could feel my face heating up every second that passed. Nika's face stopped with the worry look and she began to smile. The corners of her mouth slightly dipped down showing her more shy smile.

"Thank Fucking God."

[saerins]

─── 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.7k | content: angst, an alternate ending for this fic: whole

notes: for @veraberaxx who requested for this !! i know some of you guys would’ve stayed with nagi okay <3 he’s such a precious one here

summary: sae rarely knows what he’s doing when he comes to you. and sometimes, by the time he figures it out, it’s all way too late and you’re too far gone.

sae remembers you better than he can make sense of. you, and every little thing you do.

how you overcook your eggs in the morning when he’s on video call with you. how you make his bad days so much better without even having to try because you’re the only person in the world who can make him laugh. how your hands feel against his cheeks when you’re admiring him in that cute way you do.

god, he misses you. and he’s never been able to understand why people constantly feel the need to be around each other physically until now.

a conversation that was supposed to be a pastime haunts him.

“you sure it’s what’s best for her though?”

sae blinked, having no clue what his captain was even alluding to. “what are you talking about?”

his captain sighed, leaning back against the door, crossing his arms. “i mean, she’s probably waiting for you right? to go home?”

of course you are. you’re always waiting for him. what was his captain going on about?

“are you ever going to?”

is he?

he finds himself stuck; he’s not sure. there’s the part of him that yearns for you, that wants you around, that wants to live somewhere where you can be by his side.

“i mean, i could ask her to move with me.” it was a valid option, right?

his captain shook his head. “dude, then what happens if you break up? she’ll have uprooted her whole damn life for you, moved away to some faraway place.”

it was something he couldn’t find a response to. and maybe now he’s regretting not having more experience in this field because what’s he supposed to do? he wants you, yes. he wants to make this work, yes.

but can he? he doesn’t fucking know.

sae’s horrible at this.

how does he do this? how can he speak normally to you after all the thinking he’s done? he wants to be with you, really. but how can he be when you’re so far away? when he doesn’t know when or if he’ll come back?

“sae, you there?”

he’s pulled back into the present when you call his name. he can’t even remember what you were talking about before he zoned out.

“yeah, sorry i’m here, was just tired,” he offers, aware that he’s been tired a lot lately. but you keep believing him, maybe because he is but not in the way you think.

physically, yes maybe. but it’s not something he can’t tolerate. but mentally? it’s the biggest toll he’s ever taken. and as much as he doesn’t want to, maybe he can’t keep doing this to you. can’t keep stringing you along with him, with his unsureness and his doubts.

“i- look, i-i know it’s hard but we can—”

fuck, this is way harder than he thought it’d be. hearing your voice crack is enough to make him lose his mind. which is why he does this swiftly, can’t have you swaying his heart when he’s made up his mind.

maybe he should’ve chosen a better timing to break up with you than in the locker room right before his next game. it’s stupid, yeah, but he knows if he doesn’t get it done now he’s just going to delay it until he doesn’t even want to do it anymore.

sae’s phone vibrates right after he hangs up, and he feels his heart breaking into pieces reading your message.

you don’t want me anymore, sae?

he does. he really does. but he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with this, with himself, with you. he really wants to keep you forever, but he can’t.

maybe it’s pathetic. and maybe it’s an excuse. but maybe if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.

he hopes it will be.

it’s stupid, stupid, stupid. it’s so fucking stupid.

sae does it anyway.

he types nagi seishiro into the stupid google search because just who is this guy, anyway? he’s a little peeved about having your stories with him pop up all the time.

“just don’t watch it, stupid.”

“fuck off, rin.”

as if it was that easy.

scores of articles pop up in his phone, all relating to how nagi seishiro is soccer’s next top genius or upcoming star player. sae feels a scowl on his face as he presses into one of the article headers—nagi seishiro, bachelor no more?

and there it is, a picture of you and nagi walking down the street, hand in hand and sae wants to kill himself right now. nobody else is supposed to be intimate with you like that, and he had thought he knew what he was signing up for when he broke up with you so evidently he thought wrong.

but he isn’t given any time to heal a broken heart, and he thinks he deserves it anyway because it’s his fault that the both of you are where you are in the first place, so maybe he’ll just have to keep on living like this, with half his heart displaced and his devotion always wavering.

sae’s almost sure he can keep this game up—this game of ignoring your existence. it’s the only way he’ll make it out of this alive. but one day he’s bound to slip up.

and that happens to be tonight, when he’s tipsy and forlorn.

your number’s the first one he calls as he sits on his balcony, admiring the view that’s pretty lacklustre without you in it. barely five rings and you pick up.

but it’s not your voice.

“hello?”

by his guesses, it’s nagi. sae has to look at the clock on his phone. it’s 10pm in spain, which means it’s 5am in japan—and nagi’s the one picking up your calls?

“um—”

sae’s rehearsed countless situations of what he might say when you picked up depending on your reaction, but how was he supposed to know someone else was going to pick up?

what the fuck is he supposed to say to your boyfriend?

“oh,” nagi says, voice fading away slightly before coming back. “you’re itoshi sae.”

“yeah.”

“y/n’s washing up right now,” nagi tells him, carefree. “want me to tell her to call you back?”

“no, that’s fine.” because there’s no need for that. because sae’s going to dig himself a hole and lay in it. you probably won’t be able to reach him.

nagi says okay, and sae thinks he’s about to hang up when he hears him ask a question, “do you still love her or something?”

“no.”

nagi hums, “you’re a terrible liar. why would you be calling her at this timing then?”

“wrong number.”

“still terrible.”

“okay bye.”

“wait—” nagi calls out just before sae hangs up and he pauses for a while. sae can hear you humming in the background before you fade away again. it’s torture, really.

“what do you want?” sae sighs. he’s tipsy and in no mood to talk to anyone but you.

cruel, cruel world.

“if you’re not done with her,” nagi sighs too, because both of them would rather be talking to you than each other. “maybe you should tell her.”

sae’s just a little taken aback because why is your boyfriend telling your ex to talk to you with such intentions?

“don’t get me wrong, i’m taking better care of her than you ever did,” nagi says, getting on sae’s nerves, “but she thinks you hate her. and i really don’t like to see her sad.”

sae feels his heart dropping to the ground.

“i’d like to tell her that you’re so in love with her that you’re still calling her at 5am, but i’m not gonna.”

“you’re weird.”

“maybe,” nagi compromises, “but at least i’m not the stupid one who let her go.”

after a long pause, nagi resumes, “it’ll be too late soon if you don’t speak up.”

and then all sae can hear is the dial tone, and all he can feel is misery.

sae didn’t realise what nagi meant by it being too late if he didn’t speak up soon. that’s why he’s now running across the airport like a madman, it’s why everyone and everything drowns into the background, like they’re half-muted and swirling together.

in his bid to forget you, he’s been avoiding going on social media at all. he’s gone complete radio silence on everyone except for his teammates. he’s been so far less of himself that even his own brother is tired of trying to reach out to him.

it’s been several months since then.

maybe it’s a cruel joke that’s playing on him now; the day he comes back online, the day he decides to take nagi’s stupid advice—you’re already engaged to him.

you’re about to become mrs nagi soon and sae’s really never going to forgive himself.

it’s funny how easily the realisation comes to him; how he can never get over you, how he should’ve never pushed you away. he wants your good morning texts and your goodnight kisses, your bad cooking because he’s worse at it. your laugh, he wants to hear it next to his ear while you’re both about to fall asleep. everything about you—he wants it.

and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing right now, he’s running on pure adrenaline. he’s not even dressed for a wedding—not in his black sweater and black slacks. but fuck this, he thinks, stealing a cab from someone else, he just needs to see you. has to.

it’ll be too late soon if you don’t speak up.

nagi was long ready to propose to you. he probably already had a ring by the time sae got up the guts to call you.

it’s 1pm and he doesn’t even know if you’ve said your vows yet. he can’t remember anything rin told him over the phone and now his brother isn’t even picking up. nobody’s posting anything online either, fuck.

doesn’t help that his cab driver’s a foul mouth with an equally foul temper.

“could you drive faster?”

“oh sure, why don’t i just tell all the traffic lights to make way for little prince over here?”

sae sinks into the seat. today is really not his day, but he’ll screw the universe before he lets it tell him that he shouldn’t be doing this.

it’s 1.23pm by the time sae reaches the church, and the tall black doors never looked more intimidating. it looms over him, and he’s almost afraid to open it. but he has nothing more to lose except for you—so he opens the double doors anyway, runs down the corridors until he’s at the right hall; and it’s too loud the way he flings the doors open, the way the silence rings in his head when everyone in the room turns to face him.

sae’s only looking at you though, and even from this distance he can see your gaze fixed on him—like how everyone else’s is—and then the hushed whispers start to come but he doesn’t care for that. he catches rin in the crowd too, wide-eyed and with that what the fuck are you doing stare.

it’s clear that sae has no clue what he’s doing, why else would he be crashing a wedding he wasn’t even invited to? but his gaze turns back to you and sae freezes in the middle of the aisle, cheeks and nose red from the cold and he can see the sorrow in your eyes as you hold nagi’s hands.

sae opens his mouth until he catches you shaking your head, and then he stops. that’s when you break his heart to save him the further humiliation.

you turn back to nagi and smile the sweetest sae’s ever seen you smile.

“i do.”

sae would’ve already gone home if rin hadn’t stopped him. he would’ve been on the first flight back to spain by now but instead he’s here, at your wedding reception, entertaining rin’s friends.

“not my friends,” he grumbles, but it sure seems like it.

entertaining these guys isn’t his first choice, but he supposes it’s much better than watching the videos they’re playing of you and nagi’s time together up until now.

“hey, can i borrow him for a while, you guys?”

it’s cruel how you ask him to follow you, how you invite him to the dance floor. how he has to put his hand on your waist and know that it’s not leading to anything more, that you’re not his and you never will be.

“so, what do i owe the pleasure of you gatecrashing my wedding?”

you look beautiful. you smell pretty. you’re everything he wants.

sae doesn’t answer. you already know it anyway.

“sei told me,” you say, still not looking at him. “about how you called at 5am that one time.”

“oh, did he now.”

“mhm,” you nod your head and sae catches a whiff of your shampoo. his favourite. everything about you is his favourite. “you know, i wanted it to be you.”

sae looks confused and you chuckle, and god how he’s missed hearing that. “i dreamed of us being the ones to say i do, for a long time actually.”

he doesn’t know what to make of this, doesn’t know why you’re telling him all of this. he especially doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s the same for him.

“lucky for you it’s not me, then,” he chokes out, looking across the room at nagi, who nods at him. sae thinks that at least you ended up with someone who really seems to care about you.

you laugh nervously, “yeah, lucky me.” you’re soft, like you’re not convinced, but sae knows better than that. you’d never go through with it if you weren’t sure.

but she thinks you hate her. and i really don’t like to see her sad.

“i don’t, by the way.”

for the first time now, you look at him. “huh?”

“i don’t hate you, i never did,” sae explains, painfully aware that this is neither the time nor place but he doesn’t think he’ll ever see you or talk to you again so it’s now or never.

and you smile, and he loves that. loves you.

“how’s he treating you?”

“sei?” you turn to look at your husband, grinning from ear to ear when you see that isagi and reo are messing about with him. “he’s perfect.”

sae begs to differ. you are, that’s all he knows.

“good then.”

“what, are you planning to beat him up if i said no?”

“no,” sae scoffs. “but i’d steal you away.”

for a moment, your head lays on his chest and the way his heart beats brings you back to the present, to the fact that sae is someone from the past and he should stay there.

“so what now, itoshi sae?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him, an invisible line drawn between the both of you.

sae shrugs, and he knows what time it is. “back to spain, back to soccer, i guess.”

no longer back to you.

he now has an answer to his captain’s question.

“i’ll see you around, itoshi sae.” (you think you’d still have to watch his games when he plays because seishiro watches them. even if he says it’s a little disturbing that the one doing so well is your ex-boyfriend.)

“are you ever going to?”

no, he can’t go home anymore. it doesn’t exist.

sae nods. and he manages one last smile, a subtle one, a soft one, the one you’re so familiar with, the one you’ve been missing all this time. you press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling.

sae remembers you, and every little thing you do. especially how you manage to slip away from him, the only love he ever knew.

“sayonara, y/n.”

[juuuulez]

🎧 | heartbeat, richie jerimovich.

so we're done? this the real shit? / we used to hold hands like field trips / i’m a jerk, but your dude is a real dick / i read his posts on your wall and i feel sick.

making out/mild groping, references to sex, cheating, richie is petty.

request a playlist roulette here!

“I’m working, Richie.”

“Then fuckin’ stop. Tryn’a have a conversation here.”

You simply huff and continue to ignore him, though the small space of the office feels impossibly closed off. It’s like all the air has been sucked out, filled with a sticky warmth that settles in your veins, where you can’t possibly ignore his presence behind you.

It’s been years. Whatever happened between you and Richie was over, it ended right before you went off to college. So, yeah, fucking ages ago. What gave him the right to whine about it now? You were knee-deep in paperwork, having been called up by Carmen to help balance some accounts for the restaurant renovations. With a business degree under your belt, you’d happily taken the offer. It helped that you were in Chicago anyway.

“There isn’t a conversation to be had, asshole.” You quipped back, standing at the desk and flipping through contract after contract. They’re scattered around, and quite frankly, a mess. You make a mental note to ask Carmy if he ever got his pen license: because his handwriting is atrocious.

The silences stretches on for another few seconds. Sweet, soundless seconds, where you can summon an inkling of focus, before it’s brutally ripped away from you again.

“Missing my baby. #LongDistanceWarrior.”

It’s said in a delicate, mocking tone, that had you whipping around to face him. Richie has his phone in hand, scrolling through your Facebook wall and finding comments from your boyfriend.

“Do you mind?” You snap.

“Nah, babe. It’s fuckin’ pathetic, this shit,” He’s begun again, all wound up and pissed. “I mean— jesus, what a jagoff. Trust me, I know you, and I know you’re not into this garbage.”

You expel a harsh breath through your nose, turning your back to him once more. “It’s sweet.”

“No it fuckin’ isn’t. It’s disgusting.”

The hypocrisy of it all is astounding, it twists harsh in your gut, churning a dangerous mix of irritation and, maybe, a little bit of guilt. “Y’know, last time I checked, we broke up ‘cus of you, genius.”

“That’s not what happened,” Richie is quick to assert, dropping his phone in favour of waving his hands wildly, as if it would help his point. “Hey! That’s not what fuckin’ happened! You decided to go to New York, like a pretentious—

“No! No, fuck you!” You’re yelling back at him now, albeit still looking down at the desk. “I wanted to do long distance, asshole, and you threw a goddamn fit. So tough fucking luck, you missed your chance.”

It shuts him up for a moment, because it’s true: Richie didn’t want to do long distance, and you wanted to go to college in New York. Neither of you would budge, and so you broke up. But now, you’re dating some rich asshole, who apparently, has no goddamn problem with long distance. Making Richie the cuck.

“Is it his dick, or somethin?” Richie is speaking again in a lower tone, an almost playful twinge to it. “Cus it’s definitely not his face.”

He’s approached you, chest pressed firm against your face, as he drops the phone over your paperwork. It’s still open on your facebook wall, an image of you and this new boyfriend, posing for a photo: you’re kissing his cheek.

You shake your head, giving Richie a sharp nudge with your elbow. It’s supposed to get his ribs, but he catches it in his palm, warm and big over your skin. “Don’t be rude.” You scold.

“So it’s not?” He continues to pry. “It’s the money, then? Bet he’s fuckin’ loaded. Goddamn trust fund.”

“That’s none of your business.” You tell him.

The contact feels foreign and familiar all at the same time. It’s like coming home to a warm bed, still all mussed from the night before, and crawling right back between the covers. But it’s laced with something new, an intoxicating sense of temptation, because you know how wrong this is. How wrong it is to lean back against him, to not shoo him away.

Richie knows this, he knows the hold he has on you, knows that he’s getting what he wants. Because you’re not as uptight as you pretend to be: you’re that same scrappy kid who’d fuck around with him in high school: A younger girl, and her stupid older boyfriend, working weekends in a shitty restaurant and blowing the paychecks on dumb stuff like fireworks and beer.

So his hands find your waist, fingers wrapped around the meat of your body, tugging you back into him. You spare a glance downwards, past the paperwork, watching the way he grips you tight and possessive.

“Aren’t you married?” You ask, pushing through the breathless feeling in your lungs.

“Not anymore,” Richie supplies. “But you already knew that, didn’t ‘ya?”

You hum, rolling the idea around in your head for a moment. Any sense of rationale dissipated the second his breath hit your ear, so close, too close, and yet you still wanted him closer. Deeper. All around you.

So you turn around, wedged between the desk and him, Richie’s firm torso pinning you in place. His self control dwindles, taking the chance to skate his hands over your body, rough palms finding your ass and squeezing.

“Shouldn’t be doing this,” You remind him, the words whispered into hot air, a moment of consciousness that preens its way into your mind. “I have a boyfriend. He loves me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Richie will contest, voice rough and molten right near your ear. “The fuck ‘s he doin’ in New York, then?”

And it’s true. Fuck, it’s so true. Because he’s there and Richie is right here, hot and hard against you, smelling so familiar and before you can even think his mouth is on yours. It feels perfect, your hands skimming up his chest, finding his face to pull him in closer. Teeth clash and noses bump, his thigh pushing between your legs, pulling you down against him.

The paperwork is forgotten as you feverishly make out on the desk, groping and grinding like teenagers. It’s only interrupted by Carmen, who eventually comes knocking with another handful of receipts. His face twists in disgust at the sight, making a disgruntled noise before turning on his heels. Your face is red at this point, forehead making contact with Richie’s shoulder as you huff in a mix of embarrassment and guilt.

Not guilty enough, though, to stop Richie from coming back to your hotel. Not guilty enough to not sleep with him one, two… three more times. Certainly not guilty enough to not call him whenever you’re in Chicago.