#but anyway! i pinky swear i’m working on one <3

[inkykeiji]

clariiii we need a modern!au sukuna-nii fic 😩😩😩 with sukuna being a complete troublemaker

i’m working on one, i promise!!! and it’s a rly fun twist on a classic AU/trope!!!

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Pinky Promise

Pinky Promise 2

Part 3

Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C

You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.

The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.

Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.

The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.

“Seresin.”

“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.

“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.

“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?

“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.

“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.

“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.

“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.

“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.

“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.

But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.

You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.

It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.

“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.

“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.

“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.

“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.

“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.

“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.

“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.

“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.

Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.

When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.

He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”

Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.

“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.

He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”

You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.

“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.

“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.

“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.

“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.

“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.

“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.

“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.

It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.

“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.

“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.

He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.

“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.

He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.

Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman

He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.

Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.

A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy

[daisies-daydreams]

Okay! I’ve had this on my mind for so long now because I love your writing style but I’m kinda looking for some angst? If you’re not comfortable writing for this, I completely understand.

Anyway, idea is, Hobie being the personification of Runway Baby by Bruno Mars and fem!groupie!reader learning that the hard way. Like she falls for him, hard, and he just doesn’t pick up on it? His bandmates all warn her the moment they notice the signs, but she ignores them.

As always, I love your work and you’re a wonderful human being <3

The song in question:

Runaway Baby (Hobie Brown x F!Groupie!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x F!Groupie!Reader Category: Angst/Hurt No Comfort Warnings: Unrequited Love, Heartbreak, Depictions of Weed/Liquor, Drinking, Cheater!Hobie, Depictions of Sex (auditory only), Swearing Word Count: TBA A/N: I'm not going to lie - I never heard this song until I started to work on this request (it's a banger though!). Also, thank you so much for your kind words. 🫶

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You never thought you’d be here: backstage with your icon’s lean, lanky arm slung over your shoulder. The smell of alcohol and weed lingering in the air as the bandmembers of The Mary Janes lounged around with their girl of choice.

“Oi, Bunny, you wanna sip?” Hobie suddenly drawled while holding up a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. Your eyes lit up as you nodded, your heart skipping a beat as he chuckled. You watched with enlarged pupils as Hobie took a swig from the bottle. Your expression changed as he turned towards you, his cheeks puffed out a little as he tilted his head down.

You parted your lips as you laid your hands on his bare chest, the feeling of his warm body against your touch electrifying you to the core. You closed your eyes as Hobie gently spilled the liquor into your mouth, the bitter sting washing over your tongue.

“Fuckin’ hell, Hobes,” one of his band mates grunted. You gasped as Hobie swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before he cupped your chin between his long fingers.

“Such a good girl,” he purred and wiped his thumb across your lips. Your heart raced before he slowly stood up and stretched with a grunt. “Be right back. Gotta take a piss,” the guitarist grunted.

“Thank you for that vital information,” the drummer, Pinkie, said as he rolled his eyes.

“Anytime,” Hobie said with a mocking curtsey. You giggled as the tall, rugged man waltzed out of the room. You didn’t realize you were biting your lip until the bass player cleared his throat.

“Oh, she’s got it real bad,” his groupie laughed, her eyes slightly red and speech slurred.

“What?” you blinked, your earrings jingling as you moved your head. Everyone looked at each other through the thick haze of smoke.

“C’mon, (Y/N). Don’t act all coy,” Pinkie said. You furrowed your brows as your cheeks burned.

“Ya shouldn’t go after ‘im, ya know,” the bassist, Stew, lilted from another couch nearby.

“Stew,” the pretty girl sitting in his lap sighed. Your heart sank a little.

“Why shouldn’t I go after him?” you asked as your palms suddenly grew damp. A heavy silence filled the room before Pinkie sighed.

“He moves on to the next girl in the blink of an eye,” he said while snapping his fingers. Your heart dropped.

“Trust me, sweetheart. He’ll get tired of ya in the next few days and drop ya off at God knows where,” Stew said before taking a drag on his joint. Your eyes burned as you clenched your fists.

“B-But I thought-“

“Yeah, every girl does,” Stew interrupted.

"Stew!" his groupie chastised him with a harsh glare.

"What? The girl deserves to know the truth. In fact..." his voice trailed off as his words reverberated inside your head.

Every girl does.

You found yourself on your feet, your mind in a hazy blur as your throat grew dry. All eyes were on you as you stared onward with wide eyes.

"I need to get some fresh air," you mumbled before clumsily making your way out the door. The fluorescent lights dimly lit the hallway as your heartrate spiked, your lungs burning as you took quick, shallow breaths. You steadied yourself against the dull brick wall before you heard a sudden thump. You perked your head up as the noise drew you out of your fugue. You gasped when you heard another thump, followed by a harsh slap and a high-pitched moan.

Your eyes widened as you gazed a the bathroom door nearby, the sounds of wet, rhythmic slapping making your stomach churn. Your mind screamed at you to not take a step closer, knowing exactly what was happening on the other side of that thin door...and yet you found yourself slowly inching forward. Your throat tightened when you heard Hobie speak into the unknown woman's ear.

"Didn't know my favorite girl liked it this rough," he rumbled before another slap rang out from the small room. Tear instantly fell down your cheeks as you held your hands over your mouth. You barely heard the woman moan in reply as you ran down the hall. You shook your head as you screamed at yourself.

"You should've known," a nasty voice inside your head rasped as you mindlessly rushed through the labyrinth of winding hallways. The spaces around you seemed to grow tighter as you eventually tripped over your feet. Your heart stopped as you caught yourself, your palms and kneecaps burning before you could faceplant into the pavement.

You choked out a loud, heavy sob as your fingernails scraped against the grimy floor. You couldn't stop the tears falling down your burning cheeks as you trembled incessantly.

You really held onto each and every word he said - every sentence holding a special place in your heart. All those times you stayed up late while he strummed on his guitar, the countless moments where love and passion seemed to seep between your two bodies...it became empty all too quickly.

You opened your eyes when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You sniffed as you slowly shifted, hissing as your scraped knees rubbed against the concrete floor. You glanced down to see your best friend calling you...someone you haven't spoken with since you hopped on that tour bus so many weeks ago. You tried to blink away several more hot tears as your phone shook in your hand. You sniffled again as you wiped at your nose before answering.

"H-Hello?" you asked. You heard your best friend pause.

"Oh my God," they breathed. Your heart clenched at their breathless words. You closed your eyes as you swallowed thickly. "(Y/N), where the hell have you been?!" your friend yelled, their voice cracking as if they were trying to hold back tears. You sniffed as you shifted in place.

"In Bristol," you replied. You heard them shuffle on the other end.

"Christ, we all thought you were dead!" they said. You flinched as you squeezed your phone.

"I-I know. I'm sorry," you apologized. You slowly blinked and tried to choke back a sob. "I...I'm sorry for never answering your texts or calls," you swallowed thickly. They sighed again before a long pause lingered between the two of you.

"It's...It's okay. I'm just glad to hear your voice again," they said. A small smile crept onto your face before another wave of anguish rolled through your chest. You gritted your teeth as you placed your other hand over your chest. "But seriously...where have you been?" they asked. You hesitantly glanced back, the bathroom door far out of sight as the tear in your heart ripped a little further. You took a deep breath as you wrapped an arm around yourself and slowly rose to your wobbling feet.

"I'll tell you all about it if you come pick me up," you stated as you tried to steady your voice. Your best friend paused again.

"When do you need me to come get you?" they asked. You fought the temptation to look back again as your throat tightened and eyes burned. You gulped and parted your lips.

"As soon as fucking possible," you replied.

----

Thank you for reading ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @thedevax @famouscattale @spktrgantenk @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove @galaxy-dusk @samanthashadowriley @theloneshadow24 @xxkay15xx @inspace1 @manlikemilesmyguy @ghostslynx @synamonthy @oharasfilipinawife @scaleniusrm @jotarossshark @acotarobbsessed @8xbygirl @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @lyrasdrawer @rinverse

Want to be a part of my taglist? Comment down below! (MUST BE 18 OR OLDER)

[stvrlight-nyx]

TW: SH, Suicide, Mental illness

(I would not have done this if it wasn’t for @raedioactive)

I swear people on this app don’t really talk that much about what it’s like to go through declining mental health.

1. I am not afraid to say I have done many bad things that involve sharp objects, and it truly doesn’t help. Feeling like shit is normal it happens, you feel like there is literally nothing you can do. And doing things like self-harm at the time felt like they help, but then it gets to a day you do it and it goes horribly wrong. But trust me there are tons of other coping mechanisms, and I’m everyone says this but my ideas are better. Eat pretzels 🥨 and drink fruit shoot. It works. And if you ever feel like doing it, just log on to tumblr dryer it works too.

2. People also don’t talk about how failed kids always feel, there are days I come back home and just cry cus it’s been shit. In my life I have attempted to take it away many times and thankfully I have been unsuccessful. Yes, there are many days you feel like : a failure, let down, burden, nuisance ; yea I know it sucks. But I can pinky swear you are probably not, and taking your life away is not worth it. Even if you feel like no one in the world cares there is always this tiny pathetic den, it kinda sucks right now but there’s time for growth.

3. Finally, parent and mental health don’t always go together very well. I am really grateful that I was lucky enough to have parent who take me to specialists who can help me with my many problems(anxiety, BPD, and ADHD), but I understand that’s not always the case. I mean I personally don’t mind venting or anything, I’m all ears and usually free. And it’s also at minor ages, mental health is hard and fucking sucks and from experience I 100% would not recommend. But like mental health KO if you know what I mean.

Thank you for reading, I hope it gets the exposure to reach the target audience, but anyways adios. Please don’t kill yourself🧚🧚

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Meeting The Real You (Chapter 9)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8

word count: 25,347

***CONTENT WARNING: MENTION OF SUICIDE***

___________________________

“What did I tell you?”

Peter shriveled a little, wincing as Stark threaded the suture needle in and out of the skin surrounding his still-healing bullet wound, face flushed behind his mask as he sat once again between his mentor and Johnny Storm, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. Unlike Spider-Man, the Human Torch appeared to have no qualms being half-naked in front of others. In fact, based on his surprisingly racy modeling portfolio, Peter was certain Johnny’s superhero costume would be far more risqué if Johnny had any say in the matter. At the very least, he’d add some bold cutouts down his legs and across his midsection. Maybe some fingerless gloves or a gold choker around his neck. Meanwhile, from Peter’s perspective, the less skin he was showing, the better—especially since he was always in the mindset of trying to keep his secret identity under wraps. 

“Take it easy. No web-swinging,” Peter eventually mumbled.

“And what did you go and do anyway?”

Spider-Man grimaced. “Swung from Washington Square Park to here. But—”

“No buts. You ignored my demands, and now we’re both paying the price. You know the rules, kid. After I’m done sewing you up— again —the suit goes in the lab and stays there for as long as I deem appropriate. Understood?”

Peter sighed. This was the agreement Stark and May had forced him to abide by until he turned eighteen. Tony had never kept the suit from him for longer than a couple days, but it still sucked majorly whenever he was made to give it up. It never failed to make him feel like a grounded pre-schooler. 

“I thought you tore your stitches when you backflipped for the livestream,” Johnny said with a frown. Tony went rigid, eyes rising to meet Peter’s, nostrils flaring. Peter wished he was close enough to the Human Torch to kick him in the shins.

“You did what?” Stark snapped.

“You told me you didn’t web-swing today!” Johnny exclaimed. 

“Johnny!” Peter cried, exasperated. “You said you’d take the heat for this, not get me in trouble even more!”

“That was before I knew you lied to me!”

“Can it, you two,” Tony interjected, piercing Peter’s skin a tad less gently, making the young hero flinch. “You heard me. Suit. Lab. End of discussion.”

Peter sulked in defeat. How was he ever going to take down Kingpin when his mentor kept treating him like a goddamn five-year-old? Eighteen could not come fast enough. 

Johnny shot a glare in Peter’s direction, then exhaled slowly, placing his hands on his hips. “Mr. Stark, it’s clear that Spidey was a massive fuck-up today.”

“Hey!” Peter protested, earning a sharp flick from his mentor.

“Keep still,” Tony demanded.

“But if you take away his suit, he and I won’t be able to hang out anymore. If I promise to keep him from being a dumbass and hurting himself again, would you consider letting him keep it? Please? You know, one member of the SDS to another?”

To Peter’s surprise, Stark actually seemed to be considering his request. Peter knew how hard it was to say no to those big blue eyes paired with that pleading, innocuous smile, but still. Spider-Man wrinkled his brow, glancing between the two of them suspiciously.

“What’s the SDS?” he asked. 

“Shhh,” Johnny cooed, smooshing a finger against Peter’s lips. “Nothing that concerns you, cutie pie. You just sit there and look pretty while we work this out, yeah?”

Peter blushed in surprise, then batted Johnny's hand aside. “Why do you always have to be so damn condescending?” he asked, stifling a giggle.

“You swear you’ll keep him grounded until I give the green light?” Stark inquired hesitantly, stroking his thin beard.

Johnny beamed. “I can more than swear it,” he assured the Avenger, raising his hand and extending his littlest finger. “I pinky promise.”

Tony rolled his eyes and shooed Johnny’s hand away. With a sigh, he leveled his gaze on the young celebrity. “If he so much as splits one stitch—”

“Then I’ll rip off his suit and hand-deliver it to you myself,” Johnny assured him. 

Peter reddened as Stark knotted off the final suture in his side. “Please don’t,” the two said in unison. His mentor moved to stand directly in front of him and met his eye with a long, cold stare. Peter shrunk back, opening his mouth to try to say something constructive, but Tony shut him up by balling up the Spider-Man suit and chucking it directly into his face, muffling his yelp of surprise. 

“There. Happy now? Christ—I can’t believe how much of a pushover you’ve turned me into. I should’ve known how dangerous you two would be working in tandem to corrode my willpower and estimated lifespan.”

Peter untangled himself from the suit, then joined Johnny in showering Stark with proclamations and placards of gratitude. Tony simply crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders and muttered to himself about gray hairs and crow’s feet. Peter slipped his limbs into the floppy red fabric then tapped the spider symbol on his chest to shrink the costume down, cinching it to his narrow frame. 

“I promise I’ll be more careful,” Spider-Man insisted, rubbing gingerly at his side.

“Oh, wow—haven’t heard that one before,” Tony grumbled.

“You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Stark,” Johnny chirped, slinging an arm around Peter’s neck. “Spidey and I will lay low and stay grounded for the next few days. No more bullet wounds or backflips or web-swingings of any kind; you have my word.”

Tony dragged his hands down his face with a weary groan. “Sure. If you say so. Whatever. I seriously need a drink. FRIDAY. Whiskey. Now, please.”

“A rosemary tea with honey is steeping on your office desk as we speak,” the A.I. replied.

“Screw you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re the one who instructed me to make you tea anytime you requested an alcoholic beverage,” FRIDAY reminded him.

Tony huffed. “Screw you, me.”

The friendly arm draped across Peter’s shoulders suddenly tightened into a semi-threatening chokehold. “You’re welcome, asshole,” Johnny growled, sotto voce. “Thanks for lying to my face.”

Peter clenched his jaw, trying to focus on anything other than the feeling of Johnny’s perfectly toned arm muscles coiled against his throat. “I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t mean to. I was just…” Images of freckled skin bathed in summer sunshine looped like a powerpoint in his mind. He swallowed. “Er…distracted.” 

The corners of Johnny’s mouth lifted a little. “Well. Seeing how I’m now responsible for keeping you out of trouble, let’s not pull that shit again, yeah?”

Peter scoffed. “You do realize you’ve been the primary cause of all the trouble I’ve gotten into as of late, right?” 

“All the more reason for me to stop you from getting into more,” Johnny countered smoothly. “We’ve braved some of the most daunting situations two people could ever face together over the past couple days. Things can only go up from here, right?”

A loud ringing sound from inside Peter’s backpack bulldozed through their conversation. Peter pulled out his phone to find he had an incoming call—from May Parker.

“It’s my aunt,” Spider-Man stated, a small spindle of nerves scribbling up his throat. Immediately, he clicked the answer button, knowing better than to send her to voicemail. If she was calling because she was upset about something, always better to face it right away than to give her anger more time to stew. Hopefully it was just an update on how the convention was going, a quick chat about what they’d been up to, that kind of thing. Nothing to worry about. So long as he played it cool and didn’t mention being shot, everything would be fine. He held the phone up to his ear. 

“Hey, May,” he said hesitantly. “Uh, what’s up?”

“You were SHOT?” 

Peter flinched away from the speaker, his aunt’s voice exploding from the phone like a pipe bomb, skewering him with shards of terror. His eyes snapped towards Johnny and Stark; his jaw hung open, practically grazing the floor.

“I…I…uh…”

Stark spun away from him, marching towards the exit with his hands raised in submission. “This one’s on you, kid. I warned yah. Don’t come crying to me. You’re on your own.”

May continued yelling at him through the phone, forcing Peter to block the speaker with his hand for fear she’d start referring to him by name—followed by a horrifying string of New York-style expletives. While Spider-Man pored frantically over what to do, Johnny started snickering behind his palm. Peter turned on him in disbelief.

“You’re laughing?” he exclaimed. Johnny shook his head, giggling even more.

“Sorry, haha! It’s just—you’re Spider-Man, and you’re in so much trouble. All these people think you’re this evil menace, when you’re really just a kid getting grounded and scolded like every other teenager in America. If only they knew!” Johnny’s eyes brightened suddenly as he held up his phone. “Speaking of, should I be recording this?”

Peter grappled for the device in Johnny’s hand. “Dude! Don’t you dare!”

“Johnathan Spencer Storm.”

Johnny went rigid, his wide smile morphing into a grimace. Sue and Reed stood in front of the med bay doors, the Invisible Woman looking a tad red in the face and Mr. Fantastic tense and nervous. Although still drowning in fear from his aunt’s muffled shouts against his palm, Peter took a second to savor karma’s sweet sting. 

“Ha,” Peter taunted him, giving Johnny a light shove in the back. “Serves you right.” Johnny shrugged him off with a scowl.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “I’ll come find you after I deal with this. We gotta discuss Spidey’s next big social media stunt.”

A crafty gleam entered his eye as Johnny said that last part. To Peter’s surprise, Johnny stepped forward suddenly and bundled him into a last-second hug, sending volts of electricity tingling through his belly. 

“Sorry about all this,” Johnny added softly. “I’ll be more careful the next time I post or talk about you and make sure not to mention things like you getting shot—which, by the way, better not happen ever again.”

Peter grasped for something cool and chill and witty to say in reply, but it was no use. The only thoughts his brain could articulate while pressed this close to Johnny Storm were warm and smell nice and me like hug and please never let go. 

“Sounds Gucci,” was the moronic buffoonery he eventually squeaked out. He wrapped his arms around Johnny’s back and held him tight: resting his forehead against his shoulder, breathing in deep, and soaking him in. This was the closest he’d ever get to being more than friends with him, so he had to relish every second he got.

“Johnny.”

Lanced with sudden bashfulness, Spider-Man jerked out of Johnny’s embrace. How had he forgotten about the two other superheroes glowering at them from across the room so quickly? Well, one glowering superhero, anyway—Reed Richards wasn’t staring at them with any animosity in his gaze, but rather a quiet curiosity. For some reason, Peter found this even more unsettling. 

“All right!” the Human Torch snapped, whirling on his sister. Tiny flames bubbled across his skin. “I’m coming, okay? Jesus!” He turned back to Spider-Man and prodded his chest with his finger. “Stay grounded until I get back. The two of us are in enough hot water already.”

A curt laugh escaped him. “No kidding,” Peter mumbled. A fresh bout of angry ranting erupted from the phone in his hand, making him jump a little and almost drop it. Wincing, Peter pointed to the cracked screen. “Sorry, I gotta—”

“Same,” Johnny sighed, jogging towards his teammates. “I’ll catch yah later, ‘kay? Good luck with your aunt!”

Peter nodded and waved. “Thanks. Write a nice eulogy for me if this goes as well as I’m anticipating.”

Johnny giggled as Sue corralled him through the exit. “Will do.” 

Once the room was clear, Peter reluctantly lifted his hand off the speaker, and was met with the verbal ass-whooping of a lifetime.

“—even listening to me? Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack? If you don’t answer in the next five seconds, I’m hopping on the next bus to New York and coming home this instant so I can ground you until the day I die and cram a baseball bat straight up Tony’s lying, irresponsible, egotistical—”

“May!” Peter cut in helplessly. “Please! I was in front of a bunch of people who don’t know my secret identity! I couldn’t say anything until they left the room.”

“Are they gone now?” she shot back, words sharp as talons. Peter bunched his limbs in close to his body.

“Yes,” he answered miserably.

“Good. ‘Cuz it’s explanation time, buddy. Now. Go.”

Peter pinched his eyes closed, wondering how he could possibly spell out everything that had happened since she’d left without sounding like a reckless douchebag of a nephew, or fully chucking Mr. Stark under the bus. He hung his head, slipping the Spider-Man mask off his face.

“I’m sorry, May. I should’ve told you. It all happened so fast, and I hate making you worry while you're busy with F.E.A.S.T. stuff. I’m on the mend now and hoped I could get away with not having to burden you with this.”

“A bold feat, considering your famous new friend’s affinity for talking about you being shot on multiple different live media platforms, and the fact I probably have more Google alerts on for your alter ego than all of your enemies combined.”

The depth of Peter’s stupidity drizzled over him like boiling coffee. The teen gave a cheerless laugh, palming his face in his hand. “Right. God. Really didn’t think this one through at all, did I?”

“No, sweetheart. You really didn’t.”

The pair marinated in a long stretch of silence. Guilt chewed through Peter’s guts like maggots. May heaved a weighty sigh from the other end of the line.

“I’m always going to worry about you getting hurt, Peter,” she insisted, voice stern yet brittle. “There’s nothing either of us can do to stop that. But what I absolutely do not need added to that worry is the fear that you’re keeping things from me. Do you understand?”

Peter cupped his wounded side, skin still stinging from the freshly stitched sutures. Her words carried far more bite than she could ever know. 

“Yes, May,” he said meekly.

“When did you even start hanging out with that guy? How did the two of you meet?”

Alarm plastered the walls of Peter’s throat. “Johnny? Oh, uh—just a few days ago. Mr. Stark invited his team to stay at the tower for a bit.” Immediately, he backtracked. “But please don’t blame any of this on them. Stark just found out about me getting shot right before you did, and Johnny protected me from getting hurt even worse. They’re not at fault here—just me.”

May’s voice came through pained and wobbly. “You promised me you’d stay safe and keep me updated while I was gone,” she said.

Shame tore into the young hero like glass. Peter Parker bit the inside of his cheek and tucked his free arm beneath his aching ribs. Just rip my heart right outta my chest, why don’t you? Nothing made Peter feel shittier than when he made his aunt cry. This was the first major test of their dynamic as super-powered kid and scared but encouraging guardian . Despite her uncertainty about it, May had agreed to let him continue fighting crime in her absence—so long as he kept her up to date on everything going on. And how had he thanked her for her unwavering trust and support? By betraying her the second the opportunity presented itself. What was he thinking, hiding this from her? He hadn’t been thinking; whatever loopy pain meds Stark had injected him with paired with Johnny’s zany teasing had made sure of that. 

“This business summit is turning into a shit-show,” May continued tearfully. “None of my presentations have gone how I’ve hoped, half my team isn’t here because of a strep outbreak, and I feel completely unprepared and inexperienced compared to everyone else. Now I come to find out my kid has been shot and didn’t even tell me?” A small sniffle escaped her. “Maybe I should just come home…”

His aunt’s words cut him to his core. What could he say to make this better? What could he do to bring the light back into her voice?

Peter thought back to that last time he’d scared and disappointed her this badly. It was before May had even known he was Spider-Man. He’d been so busy tracking down the Vulture and dealing with the aftermath of the ferry he’d accidentally split in two, he’d wound up ignoring her calls all day and getting home way past his curfew. He’d never seen her that upset before, and never wanted to put her in that position ever again.

How had he made things better then? She’d been pretty standoff-ish for the next week. He’d kept his head down, caught up on his studies, gave up on Spider-Manning since he was sans his suit for the time being. It was only when he told her about a certain Academic Decathlon captain he’d asked to go with him to the Homecoming dance that the old May he knew and loved finally showed her face again.

She’d always been embarrassingly invested in her nephew’s budding romances and teenage love life, despite how uneventful they tended to be. Few things on earth brought her more joy than hearing about Peter’s latest infatuations and offering him advice on how to win their affection. Now that she knew he was a superhero, that interest had increased tenfold. Fortunately for Peter, nothing of significance had happened since his short and tumultuous fling with Liz. 

Until now, anyway. Which gave him an idea…

“I’m so sorry, May—for all of it. I really messed up. I won’t keep anything like this from you again, okay? Just please don’t leave yet. You fought so hard to be there; you deserve to be there. Don’t let my dumbassery ruin this for you.” He licked his lips, nerves buzzing to a fever pitch. He just had to hint at it. He didn’t have to say who or when or even what . All he had to do was reference just enough to shift her focus from her nephew’s irresponsibility and the stress of the conference to Peter’s hot new heartthrob.

Was this manipulative? Probably. Stupid? Absolutely so. But if it succeeded in cheering her up a little, Peter called that a win.

“The main reason I didn’t tell you about what happened was ‘cuz…” Peter swallowed. “Because my head’s been all over the place, and I’ve been really distracted lately.” 

May paused to blow her nose before responding. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Distracted by what?”

Frighteningly familiar warmth spread like wildfire across his skin. Peter shot anxious glances around the room to make absolutely certain the coast was clear, then huffed out a defeated breath.

“I kinda…have a crush on someone…” he mumbled, blush crawling into his cheeks. He couldn’t believe he was already telling another person about this after having just confessed to Ned a few hours ago, but his aunt clearly needed the pick-me-up. Besides—it wasn’t like he was planning on coming out to her just yet. 

It was almost comical how well his evil scheme worked. When his aunt finally responded, all the exhaustion and sadness had been sapped from her voice, replaced instead with beaming delight. 

“What?” she exclaimed. “A crush? Oh my god! Peter! It’s been forever since you’ve had a crush! I’ve been dying for you to find someone new after Liz, and you choose to wait ‘til I’m shipped off to New Jersey to finally find one?” 

Peter giggled sheepishly in spite of himself. Although his aunt’s obsession with his dating life was patronizing at times, her enthusiasm was entertaining to indulge and incredibly contagious. He knew she was smiling the biggest, giddiest smile right now, and Peter couldn’t help but do the same. The two of them were so close and always spoke so openly with each other, it was easy to forget they had no actual blood relation.  

“Sorry. Believe me—this was not something I planned on at all.”

Technically not a lie, he reminded himself. Speaking vague truths felt better than outright fibbing. He vowed to be as honest as he could without digging himself into an inescapable hole.

“How dare you spring this on me while I’m supposed to be mad at you,” May chastised him, unable to shake the elation from her tone. “You know how excited I get about this sort of thing.”

Peter scratched the back of his neck. Damn . She sure caught onto him quick. 

“I was gonna wait until you got back,” he explained, voice tinted with mischief, “but it sounded like you needed to hear it now.” 

Also not a lie, he thought. It wasn't like he expected to keep her in the dark forever. 

“Well, don’t leave me hanging here, kiddo!” she said. “May needs details!”

Sudden uncertainty lassoed his tongue. How could he describe him in all his charming, wily, flaming glory without saying—well, him? It was possible Peter hadn’t thought this through as much as he should have.

“Uh—like what?” Peter stammered out, stalling for more time.

“Everything!” May pressed him. “When did this start, how did it happen, what’s the plan to get you two together?”

Peter felt a small flutter stir inside him. Should I just tell her? he thought, nervous excitement surging through his veins. Why shouldn’t I? What harm could it do? There wasn’t a universe he could imagine where May turned her back on him—no matter what he did or who he was or the kind of person his heart chose to love. She’d told him a thousand times over: she’d always be there for him. Plus, Peter hated having to lie to her. He’d already shattered her trust in him once; if he could find it in himself to swallow his fear and confess this daunting secret, maybe he could start to restore that trust, and prove to her how much faith and value he placed in their relationship. 

“We met pretty recently,” Peter ventured to say, nerves latching onto every word. “At Avengers Tower, a couple days after you left.”

True.

“You met as Peter, or as Spider-Man?” 

Sweat rallied between the palms of his hands and the fabric of his gloves. He switched the phone to his opposite ear and took a slow, shaky breath. Was he really about to do this?

“As Spider-Man, actually,” he said. “The two of us—we’re both superheroes.”

True.

“No kidding?” May responded emphatically. “How exciting! A superhero, star-crossed romance! I could see how that might get messy, though: mixing work and powers and secret identities into the already complex mayhem that is teenage dating.”

Peter croaked out a laugh. “Oh, for sure. I’ve already run into plenty of unanticipated drama because of it.” True. Now? Do I tell her now? “It’s all really new and kinda crazy. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before.” Also true. How do I wanna say it? I already did this once. Why is it still so hard? “I seriously doubt anything is ever actually going to happen between us but I’m—I’m really excited about it.” 

About him.

About him.

Just tell her the truth! Spit it out already!

“What’s this mystery superhero’s name?” May inquired. Peter sat stiffly on the medical cot, clenching and unclenching his fists. He gradually stilled his shivering legs. Dropped his shoulders away from his ears. Sucked his teeth to his lips. Shut his eyes. Set his jaw. Inhaled deep, then opened his mouth.

“Johnny. It’s Johnny Storm. He’s the person I have a crush on.”

Silence. More silence. An abnormal amount of silence. Peter gulped down hitched breaths, heart thundering like a freight train, the phone trembling a little in his hand.

“M-May? Hello? You there?”

A jumbled, staticky sound gargled from the speaker in response. Peter winced, holding the device away from his ear. A few seconds later, May’s voice garbled out of the phone in short, clipped segments, cutting in and out with only a few decipherable words finding their way through. 

“May?” Peter said again, nerves tearing at the seams. “Can you hear me?”

“—goddamn piece of shit, Jesus Christ,” was what he eventually heard her hiss when the connection was finally restored. “Sorry, Peter. My signal here is absolute garbage. I think our call got cut off for a second.”

“It’s okay,” he grated out, squirming a little in place. Another couple seconds passed, and he added: “Did—did you hear me? What I said?”

“No, I must’ve missed it. Go ahead, sweetheart! What’s her name?”

A cold feeling spread through the young superhero from the top of his head to the tips of his heels. He stared ahead blankly, ice trickling into his stomach. 

“What?” he barely managed to say. The word came out breathless and fractured. 

“The superhero girl! The one you said you have a crush on! You were telling me her name, right? Or did that part of our conversation cut out, too?”

Peter could feel his heartbeat throbbing inside his skull. Two words pounded against his brain like a pair of rubber mallets. 

Her, her, her, her .

Girl, girl, girl, girl. 

She didn’t know.

Duh. Of course she didn’t know. Why would she? He’d never…he’d always made it seem like…

Still. He wished she knew. Part of him felt blindsided that she didn’t.

Maybe she didn’t know him as well as himself or Ned or anyone else thought.

“Peter?” his aunt called, ripping him from the thoughts racing around his head at a thousand lightyears a second. “Are you there, hon? Is the connection still cutting out?”

Peter tried to speak, but was stunned to find his voice choked with tears. They stung his eyes and wet his cheeks and slipped down his neck in large, pathetic droplets. 

It took him a moment. Many moments. But one by one, he forced his mouth to form words.

“I…I think it might be,” he heard himself say. Lie. He wiped frantically at his eyes, stifled a sob, cleared his throat. “Um, anyway—Mr. Stark is actually asking for me to come join him in the lab now.” Lie. “You probably have big, fancy business meetings to get to that are way more important than this.” Lie. “I’ll call you back later, okay?” Lie. Lie. Lie. 

Aunt May sighed. “All right, sweetie. Ugh—stupid cell reception. You know I’m dying to hear everything about her! I’ll need the full play-by-play once I’m home next week. I love you! No more getting shot and not telling me please!”

Peter hung up before the tremble in his voice became too obvious to hide. He let the phone slide from his fingers into his lap, then sat in silence in the wide, empty room. The chilly air of the medical wing felt even more frigid than usual. His mask was draped across his knee, the eye lenses speckled with droplets. The only sounds were the quiet sniffles slipping through his defenses and the soft patter of tears against shatter-proof glass. 

Peter was confused, angry, hurt—but why , he wasn’t sure. 

He was confused with himself. Why was he borderline weeping over this? Why was this triggering such a visceral emotional response in him? She hadn’t cast him out or recoiled in disgust or anything like that; she’d just assumed the same thing everyone else assumed about him: that Peter liked girls, and girls alone. That’s all. Once he told her, she would know the truth. Simple as that. Shouldn’t he be relieved? Coming out for the first time to two different people in one day was a lot of pressure to put himself under. 

So why was crying? Why couldn’t he make himself stop?

He was angry at his cowardice, his naïveté, at the tears staining his cheeks. He was angry he had to tell his aunt outright for her to know him fully, but at the same time mad at the unrealistic expectations he was placing on her. The anger inside him churned as hot and violent as magma. He didn’t know where to put it.

Most of all, he was hurt. It was the kind of pain that pinched your entrails and mangled your heart and made your throat feel like it was caving in on itself. He didn’t have a name for it. He couldn’t understand its intensity or origin. He wanted it to let him go.

“Spidey! You still in here?”

Panicked, Peter flew from the bed and faced away from the doors, yanking the Spider-Man mask over his puffy eyes and splotchy face. He grounded himself with as steady a breath as he could muster as Johnny floated across the room and landed by his side. 

“That went slightly better than expected,” Johnny decided, now dressed in his skin-tight, deep blue Fantastic Four suit. “I think my sister is finally sorta somewhat warming up to the idea of you. You’ve been upgraded from ‘masked menace’ to ‘masked hooligan’ at least, which is a start. How about on your end? Did your aunt really grill you, or…hey. Are you okay?”

Peter cursed himself inside his head. What was the point in wearing a mask when people like Johnny could read him like an open book anyway? He turned towards the Human Torch with a dismal chuckle. 

“I’m good, yeah. That’s great. Really great. My aunt’s not mad anymore, either. Maybe I’m better at getting people to like me than I thought. I bet it’s my eccentric wit and rock-hard calves and rugged, unbridled sex appeal.”

Johnny’s frown didn’t budge an inch. “You’re doing it again,” he said. 

Peter rubbed at his eyes through the lenses of his mask. “Doing what?” he asked sullenly. 

“You know what,” Johnny snapped, crossing his arms against his chest. “Drop the stupid jokes, and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Ouch. I thought the sex appeal part was at least kinda funny. Tough crowd.” 

“Spidey. Come on. Seriously.”

“Y’know, ‘seriously’ isn’t really my vibe at the moment. How about peanut M&M’s and microwave popcorn and Brooklyn 99 and ignoring our problems instead?”

“Spider-Man.”

Taken aback, Peter couldn’t help but giggle. “Was that you trying to call me by my full name? I have to admit, it was rather unsettling. You almost sounded like one of my super villains. Add a bit more growl to that last syllable, and you’ve pretty much nailed it.”

Johnny scoffed incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. “Wow. This is…just wow. You done now? Is it outta your system yet?”

“Yeah, that’s not how it works. I’m like a goat. I’ll just keep going and going until I die. And the longer I go, the harder it is to stop. Speaking of, ever heard the one where a goat and a sommelier walk into a bar?”

“Webs,” Johnny implored, grabbing him by the wrist. The touch sent tingles up Peter’s arm and down his spine. “Please.”

Virulent emotion threatened to claim him once again. What was the point? He couldn’t tell him what was wrong. Even if he wanted to, Peter doubted he was capable of fully articulating it. 

With a desolate sigh, the masked hero yielded, but he selected his words with an abundance of caution. “It’s whatever, all right?” he insisted. “My aunt just…doesn’t know me like I thought she did. And it’s not her fault, but…I don’t know. It surprised me a little, since she probably knows me better than anyone.”

“What doesn’t she know about you?” Johnny asked. When Peter didn’t answer, he switched the question to: “Have you ever told her the thing she doesn’t know about you?”

“No…” he said hesitantly.

An endearing smile touched Johnny’s lips and shone in his cobalt eyes. “Spidey. You can’t expect people to know things about you without showing them or telling them those things. That applies to your aunt and everyone else in the world. If you want people to know you as you are, you have to open up to them and share the stuff that’s important to you.”

The deep ache inside Peter gradually fell away, and an itchy irritation crept in to replace it. Grumbling, Peter stared off to the side, shoulders and fists held taut. “Would you stop making so much goddamn sense all the time?” he fake-pouted, a small laugh escaping him. “Could you, like, not have the answer to every single one of my problems for once in your life?”

Johnny returned his laughter, giving his arm a light squeeze. “You make it too easy, Webs,” he teased him. “This is why I think this silly social media stuff is so vital to restoring your image. If you don’t take control of your narrative and tell people who Spider-Man really is, they’re going to keep making assumptions about you that aren’t true.”

Peter studied the soft sincerity in Johnny’s expression, debilitating fondness blazing through him. He puffed out his cheeks. “Y’know, you could at least pretend to think I’m funny while I’m running through one of my conflict-avoidant stand-up comedy routines. Humor me just a smidge before gutting me like a fish.”

“I do think you're funny,” Johnny corrected him. The hand holding Peter’s wrist tugged him the teensiest bit closer, sending butterflies racing up Spider-Man’s throat. While he had him distracted, Johnny’s other hand found Peter’s rib cage and gave his uninjured side a quick pinch, making the young hero squeal in surprise and leap away. “But I’m not gonna laugh when you’re making jokes to hide your pain.”

“Hehey!” Peter giggled, blushing bright as a tomato as he hugged his midsection. “Johnny! I just got re-stitched!”

Johnny grinned wide and rolled his eyes. “Ugh. I’m counting down the days until you can’t use that as an excuse anymore. Then we’ll really see who’s better at getting the other person to laugh.”

He feigned a few deadly pokes to Peter’s belly to punctuate his threat, causing Spider-Man to stagger backwards frantically, giggling like a little kid.

“Quihit it!” he squeaked. “Now you’re the one not taking things seriously!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” Johnny assured him, a sinister glimmer in his eye. Spider-Man reddened even deeper, arms clamped protectively around his torso. Johnny backed off for the time being, although the devious smirk on his face remained. 

“I’m also dead serious about cleaning up your rep,” Johnny continued. “And I know the perfect event to host our next media blitz.”

Peter grimaced. “An event?” he repeated back. He didn’t like the sound of this already.

“That’s right,” Johnny said. He pulled out his phone and held it up for Peter to see. “The Fantastic Four is hosting a fan meet-up and photo-op thing in Central Park tomorrow at noon. The event is free, but we’re requesting donations for pictures and autographs and whatnot to raise money for local animal shelters.”

Peter blinked at the screen. This must’ve been the Johnny meet-and-greet Ned mentioned earlier, he thought. 

“I thought Spider-Man could make a surprise appearance. We can take some photos, charm the crowds, do a couple interviews with whatever press is there. It’ll be fun.”

Peter considered Johnny’s proposal and swallowed dryly. “That sounds like a pretty big leap from me showing up on your TikTok, don’t you think? I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.” Spider-Man scratched the back of his arm, voice small and shy. “I’d rather just…y’know. Talk to you some more. Without a bunch of cameras or other people watching. We can do more livestreams and social media stuff, if you think that’ll help. But…I don’t feel comfortable doing this sort of thing with anyone else except you.” He winced, realizing how that sounded. “I mean—not yet, anyway.”

Before Johnny had a chance to respond, Peter spun away from him, stretching his arms above his head. “Besides! I, um—already have plans at that time tomorrow. Thanks for the invite, but I don’t think the rest of your team would appreciate me showing up out of the blue and crashing their fundraiser. I might scare off fans who came to make big contributions.”

Johnny paused, then snickered, his freckled nose crinkling up in the most disarmingly cute way. “First of all, you’re adorable. I’m honored to be the sole confidant you’re willing to trust with your public relations.”

Peter’s heart skipped in his chest like a stone across a raging river. He wondered if Johnny spoke to all his friends this way, or if it was just him. He hoped it was just him. 

“I think you mean paranoid and violently untrusting of news reporters,” Peter chuckled halfheartedly. 

“Maybe. But mostly adorable.” He forged ahead without missing a beat. “Second, I guarantee people are gonna be wanting to see more of you after today. Go check out the now-trending hashtag ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’ on all your favorite social media platforms. In the hour since we went live, the internet has already gone absolutely beserk with people sharing their stories about you.” Johnny held up his index finger pointedly. “Not all of them are flattering, mind you—but an overwhelming majority. Not bad for my first time doing this, I’d say. It’d be great if we could ride that wave of excitement by posting more content tomorrow.”

Peter couldn’t help it. He broke into a laugh, shielding his mouth with his hand, making Johnny narrow his eyes.

“What?” he asked amusedly. “What’s funny?” His cheeks hinted a light pink color. 

“Nothing,” Peter giggled. “You just sound a lot like your sister right now.”

Immediately, Johnny’s jaw dropped. “What? I do not! How dare you say that! That’s like—the biggest insult you could ever possibly hit me with!”

“You told me she’s the one who handles your team’s PR and whatnot, right?” Peter reminded him. “Isn’t that kinda what you’re doing for me right now? Making sure I’m putting out a good image and appearing likable and trustworthy and all that stuff?”

“This is completely different,” Johnny insisted. “Sue works with marketing agencies and consulting firms and giant corporate sponsors to bolster our team’s image. You and I are just making fun videos on my TikTok and Twitter and Instagram pages. I wasn’t planning to throw a bunch of money at this by hiring trend experts or data analysts or graphic designers or anything.” A giddy twinkle flashed in his eyes. “Unless—did you want to do that, or—?”

“No, no,” Peter assured him. “Silly phone videos are much more my style. I’m just saying.” He nudged Johnny playfully with his elbow. “Maybe you and your sister are more alike than you think.”

Johnny’s scowl returned in an instant. “Go to hell, Webhead.”

For the second time that day, Peter was startled by his phone trilling loudly inside his backpack. Lucky for him, it was Ned this time, who was far less likely to yell at him or make him cry by accidentally pigeonholing him into compulsive heterosexuality. Not that he blamed May, of course. At least…he was trying not to.

“Popular today, aren’t yah?” Johnny noted.

“Yep. That’s what happens when the Human Torch gushes longingly about you on the Today Show and posts unsolicited pictures of you in your pajamas.”

As Johnny chuckled at his retort, Peter jabbed his thumb towards the elevator in the corner of the room. “I’m gonna take this on the roof. We can meet up after your fan event thingy tomorrow if you’re free then.”

The Human Torch met his gaze with a wickedly enchanting grin. “M’kay. Come ready to star in my next groundbreaking, fun-loving Spider-Man social media production. We gotta post at least once a day for the next week! No exceptions! And since you’re not allowed to do anything superhero-y anytime soon, don’t pretend like you’re too busy or have anything better to do! ‘Cuz I’ll know that’s bullshit.”

Peter offered him a two-fingered salute. “You’re the boss, Flame Brain. See yah!” He took a few steps towards the elevator but stopped suddenly in the center of the room, struck with a choice that rendered him blushing and paralyzed. There were a lot of things the request might imply, should he decide to follow through—nonetheless, Peter felt it was a necessary and inevitable progression for their relationship (both as friends or otherwise), and would allow for consistent communication between them. 

With all these divergent thoughts swirling around in his skull, Peter reluctantly made up his mind. He turned back around and strode up to Johnny, the words sputtering nervously off his lips.

“Could I—I mean—w-would you mind—?” He shook his head, took a breath, and tried again, extending his hand. “Just—give me your phone. Please.”

Johnny blinked at the masked hero bemusedly, then held out the device with a chuckle. “Okay…?” he said warily. 

Peter took the phone and navigated to Johnny’s contact list, anxiously but determinedly adding his number to the roster under the name “Webhead” along with all the spider-related emojis he could find. He looked it over, once, twice, nodded to himself, then handed the device back to the Human Torch, shoulders tight and voice a tad shrill. “There. Now you can reach me anytime you need for whatever reason—whether you’re being attacked by Russian mobsters or want to run any more embarrassing content ideas by me before posting them on the internet forever or if you’re about to supernova yourself into oblivion and need someone to come help you—y’know, um, not do that.”

Johnny studied him with a look of delighted fascination. He plucked the phone from Spider-Man’s fingers and grinned at the screen. “I imagine someone like you doesn’t give out his number to others very often—especially those who don’t know your real identity.” He glanced up at him with a blindingly sunny smile. “I’m happy you’re trusting me with it. I don’t take that lightly.”

There was playful, teasing Johnny, and then there was this Johnny: insightful, sensitive, and earnest. Both were equally fruitful at transforming Peter Parker into a puddle of melted goop.

“No booty calls on weekdays,” Peter joked shyly. “I’m a spider of class and dignity.”

The loud yodeling ringtone belted from his phone yet again, making Spider-Man flinch. In his distracted, excitable state, he must’ve missed Ned’s initial call. If his friend was this determined to get through to him, he must’ve seen Johnny’s livestream and the overwhelming online response and be absolutely dying to talk to him about it.

“You’d better take that,” Johnny suggested.

Peter nodded. “Right. Okay. Cool. Great.” The young hero turned and skipped across the room, floating on the high of his uncharacteristic bravery. He giggled to himself, then threw Johnny a wave. “Catch yah later!” He answered Ned’s call and started to speak as he stepped into the elevator, then second guessed himself. “Whoops. I shouldn’t—bad connection in there. I’ll just—” he skirted towards the doorway instead with a skittish laugh in Johnny’s direction. “—take the stairs. Yep. Uh, yeah, so...bye! Again!” 

Johnny watched Spider-Man’s nervous and clumsy exit with an air of intrigue. He’d learned those characteristics were indicative of his nature, and normally not worth making note of. But in light of the conversation he’d just had with his teammates, and the jarring words Reed had left him with, he was inclined to dissect the webhead’s behavior with a far keener eye.

When the masked hero was gone, Johnny revisited the chat between himself, his sister, and her boyfriend in his head, and felt the gears of yearning and possibility start to tick, tick, tick into place. Maybe there was some hope for the two of them after all. Maybe he wasn’t as delusional as he’d once thought.

“What’s it gonna be this time, sis? Another stern talking to? Benching me for the next three missions? A new curfew we both know I’m not going to follow?”

Susan responded by shoving Johnny’s Fantastic Four costume into his chest. “Put that on,” she demanded. “For future reference, Tide pods do nothing for blood stains. Baking soda and warm water is your best bet.”

Johnny reddened in surprise, then begrudgingly slipped into the freshly laundered suit. He’d hidden it after hours of failed scrubbing and soaking with a plan to try dry cleaning next, but as always, Sue was faster and smarter than him. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow once he was fully dressed, avoiding both adults’ hard stares.  

“Was any of that blood yours?” Reed asked.

“No,” Johnny grumbled. “We punched a lot of kidnappers, so some of it could’ve been theirs. But 99% of it was probably Spider-Man’s.” The Human Torch leered at him. “You know, because he got shot while saving two kids yesterday? Did you black out during my whole heartfelt testimony this morning? Or are you convinced as usual that I’m just making shit up?”

“I believe you,” Richards assured him calmly. “We just wanted to make sure you weren’t injured.”

Johnny’s biting tone wavered. He glanced between the two of them, noticing the lines of worry in both their faces, then gingerly lowered his gaze. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulder a bit. By now the ache from colliding with the pavement was nearly gone. 

“And is he?” Sue asked in a thin voice. “Spider-Man?”

Johnny scoffed bitterly. “Like you care.”

“We do care, Johnny,” Reed insisted. “None of us want to see anyone around here getting hurt. And based on the amount of blood we had to scrub out of your suit, it must’ve been really bad. I’m stunned your friend isn’t in the ICU after sustaining a wound that severe.”

A hum of surprise trilled within Johnny at Reed’s choice of words. Friend. He called him my friend. 

“We saw the police footage of the people you were up against,” Sue continued, shaking her head, eyes sharp with fear. “Those were some seriously dangerous men, Johnny.”

The Human Torch grimaced, waiting for the lecture to start. Susan swallowed, then exhaled through her nose.

“Listen,” his sister grated out. “I’m proud of you for stopping those thugs and saving those kids.” She spoke the words as if they physically hurt her to say. 

Johnny’s eyebrows crawled towards his hairline. “Really?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Really.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes, then gestured to Richards. “Did he put you up to this?”

“No one put me up to anything,” Susan shot back. “I mean it. You were outnumbered by a very scary opponent, but you took them down and got the civilians out unharmed. Before I say anything else, I wanted to make sure you knew that.” 

Johnny was taken aback to say the least. His sister was not one to hand out compliments to him easily—especially in conversations that weren’t going to be broadcast as promotional content for the team. But he wasn’t ready to let her off the hook just yet. 

“In that case, you should be proud of Spider-Man, too,” Johnny retorted. “He was the one who got the kids out safely. And he saved my life!”

“Which brings me to the next thing we need to address,” Susan said plaintively. “You cannot go off to fight bad guys on your own without your team there to support you—especially bad guys of that caliber.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Johnny reminded her. Sue’s face twisted in frustration.

“And if Spider-Man did save your life, that means he put your life in danger in the first place. No 16-year-old should be off fighting psycho mafia child-traffickers armed with weapons of war they got from—god knows where, without their adult teammates backing them, or—hell, even knowing about it. Do you hear me?”  

Johnny gazed at his sister numbly. “How about two 16-year-olds?” he proposed.

Susan frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Human Torch pursed his lips, then cursed himself under his breath. Spider-Man had shared his age with him in confidence. He doubted the webhead wanted him telling anyone else about it—especially other superheroes. But Johnny assumed one of the reasons Sue didn’t like them hanging out together was because she thought Spider-Man was a grown adult. Maybe if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be so hard on him. Maybe a lot of people wouldn’t. 

It wasn’t his place to tell. But Johnny could already see the realization materializing across Reed’s face. An acrimonious breath escaped him. Too late now. 

“We’re the same age,” Johnny explained. “Spider-Man and I. We’re both sixteen.”

Sue’s eyes widened. “He—you’re telling me you’ve seen his face? You know his real identity?”

Johnny shook his head impatiently. “No, he just—told me. He’s told me a bunch of stuff about himself. The two of us have a lot in common.”

The crease in Susan’s brow returned in record time. “Oh. So you don’t actually know, then. You’re just assuming he’s telling the truth and taking his word for it? Do you know how shady that sounds, Johnny?”

“He’s not lying!” Johnny shouted, fire flashing from his fists. “And if you spent two seconds actually getting to know him, you’d know that! Why don’t either of you ever believe me about anything?”

“It’s not you we’re doubting,” Reed said gently. “It’s just…difficult for us to fully trust someone who’s so secretive all the time. Please understand that our only concern is your safety and wellbeing.”

“Is Spider-Man also the one who told you to make those insane accusations against Wilson Fisk on your livestream?” Susan asked coldly. “Is that another thing you just accepted as fact because he told you it was true?”

Johnny flushed, trying to conjure a sufficient response. “He…he told me those kidnappers work for Fisk,” he said reluctantly. “Spidey didn’t want me to say anything about it, but if Fisk is really funding a human trafficking ring while running for mayor, I thought the world needed to know how dangerous he is.”

“And do you have any proof that that’s the case?” Sue countered. “Anything at all that connects Fisk to those men you fought?”

Johnny tried to extinguish the flames creeping up his arms and fizzling off his scalp, but his increasing frustration was making it impossible. When he couldn’t find an answer, Susan scoffed, shaking her head.

“Wilson Fisk is a pinnacle of industry and influence in this community. He’s the only candidate running for mayor who’s directly voiced his support for the Fantastic Four and promised to work with us if he wins the election. If you’re going to accuse him of something that despicable, you better have fucking indisputable evidence before you open your mouth and make an enemy of one of the most powerful people in New York.”

Johnny swallowed, shame radiating off him in swells of searing heat. He hated to admit it, but Sue was right. Even if Fisk was guilty, defacing his name on his TikTok page with no proof to back his claims was idiotic and counterproductive to everything both his team and Spider-Man were working towards. He shouldn’t have spoken so carelessly.

“You’re going to delete the livestream,” Susan instructed him.

“I already cut the part about Fisk out,” Johnny mumbled. “Spider-Man made me.”

“And you’re going to issue a public apology stating you were misinformed on the situation and won’t be spreading unfounded conspiracy theories about public figures ever again.”

Johnny glared at his feet, hands balled tight at his sides. “What if I’m not misinformed?” he said quietly. “What if Spider-Man is right about him?”

“Then Spider-Man has a lot of investigating to do before either of you mention anything about it ever again. For now, you’re apologizing. The publicist will send the copy to you tomorrow to post after the fundraising event.”

A queasy feeling bled through Johnny’s insides. The idea of begging for forgiveness from someone whose henchmen were responsible for wounding Spider-Man so badly felt like such a betrayal to the webhead. If there was any way he could opt out of uploading that post tomorrow, he’d make it happen.

“I don’t have the time or patience to babysit you 24/7 right now,” Susan said wearily. “If you want to waste more time running around with that masked hooligan, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Good,” Johnny said smugly. “‘Cuz that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

“But I won’t tolerate you going off to fight an army of Russian mobsters without giving us a head’s up,” she clarified, “or making baseless accusations that threaten the integrity of our team. Got it?”

Johnny huffed, giving his sister a sardonic curtsy. “Aye aye, captain. Whatever keeps the stakeholders happy.”

Sue rolled her eyes as she turned away from him, marching towards her and Reed’s guest room. “Be at the great lawn by 11 tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t be late. And please look presentable.”

“That’s all you keep me around for, right?” Johnny hollered back. “Looking hot while I pose for photos and sign autographs and keep my mouth shut on anything that actually matters?” 

His remark earned a groan from his sister before she stepped into her room and slammed the door behind her, leaving Johnny quite pleased with himself for getting the last word in.

The Human Torch expected Richards to tuck tail after Susan like he always did, or request for the hundredth time that he cut his elder sibling a little slack. Instead, he stayed rooted in place, eyeing Johnny like a new species of amoeba he was studying under a microscope. Johnny regarded his sister’s boyfriend with a loutish glare. 

“Go ahead,” Johnny muttered. “Tell me again how she’s only hard on me because she cares and wants to keep me safe and blah, blah, blah…”

Reed shot a glance back at the door, then broke into a hesitant smile. “Actually,” Richards said. “I was more interested in discussing your little friend a bit more—perhaps without Sue’s well-intentioned but rather harsh convictions on the matter preventing you from speaking openly.”

Johnny blinked, caught off guard, to say the least. “Um,” he said, trying to track where he was headed with this. “Okay?”

Reed placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side. “So…Spider-Man,” he mused. “You like him, don’t you?” 

Tiny fires flared at the tips of Johnny’s ears. “I…what?” he stammered, voice cracking in the most heinously telling way. “Who told you that?” Reed grinned.

“No one. Call it an educated guess. I was sixteen once too, you know. Nobody at your age is as slick as they think.”

Reed Richards and Johnny Storm had always had an awkward gap in their relationship. Being his older sister’s on-and-off boyfriend for the past couple of years and now the co-founder of their superhero team tended to put a damper in their geniality. Reed tried his best to toe the line between being there for Johnny in the ways he needed without overstepping into attempted paternal territory, knowing well it wasn’t his role to fill. But showing an interest in his romantic life—and catching on to Johnny’s infatuation with someone when he was trying his best not to flaunt it—was, in fact, a first for him. Johnny found himself blundering for words, a growing blaze of panic catching fire in his chest.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Reed assured him. “But I’m convinced your sister already knows, and—unsurprisingly—does not approve.”

Johnny crossed his arms tight to his chest, giving a short, rigid shrug. “And what about you?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Richards smiled. “I’m surprised you care.”

“I don’t,” Johnny said immediately, then swallowed. “But…is it really that obvious?”

Reed chuckled. “Yeah. Kinda. I can’t say I trust the guy as much as I’d like to, but…no way he’s as crazy as the news or Susan is imagining. From what I’ve seen, he seems like a decent kid.” A smirk tugged at his lip. “And I can see the appeal. You’ve always had a thing for the mysterious masked rebel types.”

Johnny fought back a giggle, mostly at the thought of how excited Spidey would be knowing Reed had described him that way. But his laughter quickly turned hollow.

“And the kind that’ll never like me back,” he added morosely. Reed’s face fell, and Johnny’s shoulders slumped. “Sue says I’m just making the same mistake I did with Sam all over again, and I’ll only end up breaking my heart a second time. And it sucks, ‘cuz I know deep down she’s right, but…this feels different. He’s different. He’s just…ugh.”

Johnny scrunched up his features and clawed aggressively at his scalp, disheveling his rose-gold locks into a scruffy jumble atop his head. “Spidey’s just…he’s one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met. It’s like he’s completely blind to his own struggles and safety but hyper-aware of everyone else’s—which is really sweet, but also annoying as fuck. He sees so much good in the world and is so passionate about helping others even though so many people try to paint him as a villain. He knows how to make people laugh even at their lowest point: when they’re scared or confused or in pain. And whenever I’m able to get him to laugh, let me tell you…” Johnny chuckled to himself at the thought of it. “It’s like straight serotonin, the sound of it. Literally the cutest, most addictive thing ever. Nothing beats the feeling of when I get a big laugh out of him—which isn’t exactly hard, but that doesn’t make it any less fun.” 

The smile on Johnny’s face was so wide as he spoke, it almost hurt. “Spidey may seem closed-off and mysterious from the outside,” he went on, “but once you get to know him, you realize he’s actually the biggest goddamn dork in the entire world. He talks super-duper fast and has a crazy quick wit—especially when he’s anxious or dealing with something he doesn’t want you to worry about. He’s an insanely smart science nerd just like you and Sue and can rant about molecules and substances I can’t pronounce for hours. He puts on this quippy, confident front most of the time, but he’s a surprisingly shy and insecure person.” Johnny scoffed. “And despite it all, he still makes me nervous. Can you believe that? It’s infuriating. Johnny Storm does not get nervous; everyone else is supposed to get nervous around me. But I can’t help it. I’m like a blushing, bumbling idiot around him. I don’t think he knows the effect he has on people. I don’t think he understands how incredible and brave and inspiring he really is. I just want everyone to see him the way I do. Even if there’s zero chance of him ever liking me how I like him, I have to get the world to understand why Spider-Man deserves to be admired and appreciated and loved.” 

Johnny’s saccharine grin withered into nothing. “I won’t lose another friendship by forcing my feelings onto someone who doesn’t like me back. He means too much to me. So…” Johnny shrugged pitifully. “If I can’t be with him, I can at least give him this.”

When the Human Torch saw the expression Reed was wearing and realized how long he’d been carrying on about the webhead, he felt his hair crackle like a campfire. Richards and him didn’t talk much about stuff like this, despite Mr. Fantastic’s relentless and embarrassing efforts to deepen their flimsy bond. Why was he suddenly pouring his heart out and spilling his guts to a man whose mousy nature and nauseating devotion to his cold and callous sister had always made Johnny want to broil him like a Thanksgiving turkey? Reed blinked at the teen hero slowly, stinging sympathy lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Wowza,” he said. “You’re down bad, kiddo. How long have you known this guy again? Like, five days?”

Johnny dropped his face into his hands, steaming with embarrassment. “Shut up,” he giggled.

“And you really don’t know who he is?”

Drearily, Johnny shook his head.

“But…you still like him? Like, like him, like him?”

The Human Torch hesitated, then nodded, face still smothered behind his palms. Reed chuckled.

“All right. In that case, here’s my two cents: I can’t speak to Spider-Man’s character or his trustworthiness or—hell, if it’s even mathematically appropriate for you two to date. But what I can say is this: if you have no concerns or reservations about him other than your assumption that he doesn’t like you back, you may need to reevaluate your deductive reasoning skills.”

Johnny lifted his head from his hands, searching Reed’s expression with wide, dubious eyes. “What are you saying?” he asked. 

Richards shrugged, failing to stifle a knowing smirk. “Look, I don’t know what Susan or anyone else has told you,” he conceded, “but between you and me, I don’t think Spider-Man is straight.”

Johnny felt his pulse climb to a deafening thunder. He inched closer to his teammate, stuttering through a frazzled, nonsensical reply. “Wait, you—w-what do you—how—?”

“And the reason I think that,” Reed continued, clearly enjoying himself, “is because I’m very convinced he has a similar infatuation with you as you do him.”

“Hold on,” Johnny stammered hoarsely, throwing his hands in the air. “Slow down. Why are you saying this? Where is this even coming from?”

“As I’ve watched you two interact these past few days, his observable behaviors have not been unlike the very ones you’ve exhibited towards him, which clued me into your possible feelings for Spider-Man as well as his own for you. Between you and Nova, the mania was as evident as day a one-sided affair. But I’m not extrapolating that same conjecture from your current fixation.”

“Why do you have to say everything so weird?” Johnny whined indignantly. “Just tell me in normal-people words what the hell you’re talking about!”

Reed sighed. “You said you get nervous around him, right? It seems to me he also gets very nervous when you’re around him. Higher voice pitch, faster talking speed, restlessness, fidgeting, laughing excessively. I don’t recall Sam ever acting like that when you two were together. Pretty incriminating evidence if you ask me.”

“That’s just…how Spidey is,” Johnny tried to explain. “Y’know—an anxious, giggly, fidgety person. Plus, he’s like, physically incapable of making himself shut the fuck up.”

Richards smiled. “And you’re sure he’s all those things all the time, or just when he’s with you?”

Johnny bristled. “I’m…yeah. Pretty sure.” He paused to ground himself, combing his fingers through his hair, crushing his feelings of excitement and hope into dust beneath his heel. “Look. It’s useless, okay? Spidey already mentioned dating a girl before. He’s straight. That’s that. End of discussion.”

“Weren’t you a serial girl-dater all the way up until the sixth grade?” Reed pointed out. “Does that make you any less of the flaming homosexual you are today?”

Johnny grimaced. “Okay, first things first—don’t ever say anything like that ever again.”

Reed chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

“Second, that was pre-pubescent Johnny. Spider-Man was talking about taking a girl to his school’s homecoming dance last year. He’s never mentioned anything about liking or dating guys.”

“It is possible he only recently came to realize his attraction to the same gender,” Reed proposed. “People can also be attracted to more than one gender. Just because he recently dated a girl or likes girls doesn’t automatically disqualify him from liking boys, too.”

Johnny stood very still as he flipped back through his carefully curated collection of notes on the wall-crawler, which adorned the inside of brain like an elaborate tapestry. He analyzed and shuffled and highlighted important subtext. He strung threads between moments and jotted down little comments beneath entries. Could Reed be right? Had he missed something? Was it possible that Spider-Man actually liked him back?

“I can’t make you any guarantees,” Reed added, tearing Johnny from his mental investigation. “And I won’t pretend I have any advice on how you should approach the situation with your sister or with Spider-Man. But if you like him, and you believe he’s as good and honest and—well, cute—as you claim, and the only thing holding you back is your fear of unreciprocated affection…” Reed smiled warmly. “I think you should go for it. You might be surprised by his response.”

Johnny’s stomach was in fluttering, queasy knots. He had no idea what to do with Richards’ insights. The man was rarely wrong when it came to scientific hypotheses or analytical geometric theorems. But as for his gaydar? Johnny wasn’t ready to enrapture himself with fantasies of what he and Spider-Man could be based solely on Reed’s fleeting observations. Reed Richards was no Chris Harrison when it came to playing queer matchmaker for his girlfriend’s little brother.

Johnny wet his lips and scratched behind his ear. “I’ll um…I’ll think about it,” was the reply he eventually settled on. 

Reed beamed, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Wonderful.”

Red-faced, and unsure what to say next, Johnny spun on his heels to leave. But he stopped with a hand on the door, speaking softly without meeting Reed’s gaze.

“You really didn’t tell her to say that?”

Richards frowned at the back of Johnny’s head. “Hmm?” he prompted him.

“Sue. You swear you didn’t tell her to say she’s proud of me?”

Reed’s features eased into a pained smile. “Yes, Johnny. It took a little encouragement from my end for her to go through with it, but I promise it was her idea. Not mine.”

Johnny swallowed thickly. “You think she meant it?”

Richards nodded. “I do. And for what it’s worth, I feel the same.”

Johnny fought back a smile, then rolled his eyes with a melodramatic groan. “You’re both so embarrassing,” he lamented. “God. Don’t you have something mind-numbingly boring and gag-inducing to get to? Like—I dunno—winning the Nobel prize for discovering a new element? Fucking my sister behind the bunsen burners in Tony Stark’s bougie lab?”

Reed’s cheeks went scarlet. “I—I don’t—”

“Or are you doing it somewhere even weirder? Oh god, don’t answer that—spare me the details. Just please make sure you’re wearing protection; I’m not ready to be an uncle to your stretchy, invisible demon spawn.”

“Johnny!” Richards exclaimed, face fire-engine red. The Human Torch cackled maniacally as he rushed out of the room, a pillar of fire trailing behind him. With an etiolated sigh, Reed couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a terrible mistake encouraging Johnny to pursue something romantic with a shady individual most of the world considered a reckless menace. His concerns about Spider-Man resembled Sue’s in more ways than one, but he knew the more they objected to the idea, the greater Johnny’s interest in the vigilante would grow.

More than anything, Richards wanted Johnny happy. And right now, despite Susan’s best efforts, Spider-Man was the thing making him the most happy. Based on his quiet surveillance, that happiness was fortunate enough to operate on a two-way street. Spidey really seemed to like him back—stumbling over his words when Johnny teased him or offered him a helping hand, bouncing up and down like a kid in a candy shop when the two were engaged in conversation, melting into the Human Torch’s embrace when he thought no one else was watching. Even with his face hidden, the web-crawler’s body language was implicating enough. He wondered if anyone else had picked up on it yet.

The logical half of Reed’s brain hoped the pair never crossed that line. The smaller, sentimental side hoped one day they’d be brave enough to try. 

“I’m so glad Johnny Storm said what he said about Spider-Man. About a year ago, I was out walking my dog Lola when her collar suddenly broke and she got away from me. I chased after her as fast as I could, but I was too slow to keep up. When she ran out into the busy street, I knew she was a goner. I was about to watch my best friend get hit by a car and die right in front of me. It was the scariest moment of my entire life.

“But before the cars got to her, a streak of red swooped in out of nowhere and snatched her right off the road. I didn’t understand what had happened at first, until Spider-Man dropped onto the sidewalk right beside me with Lola in his arms. I was a hysterical, blubbering mess at that point, but he was so kind and patient with me. He walked with me all the way to the nearest pet shop so I could get my baby a new collar, carrying Lola the entire time and chatting with me the whole way there. I was so embarrassed with the situation and how much my dog was drooling and shedding all over him, but he didn’t care. I’ll never forget what he did for me that day. I’ll always remember how nice he was, and I’m forever grateful for the notes list he airdropped me of all his favorite thrift shops in New York. Dude knows some super obscure but highly underrated spots! I’ve scored some of my best finds this summer thanks to his recs. I’d really prefer to gatekeep, but if enough of you ask, I’ll share the list he gave me in the comments.” 

“Listen here, Mr. Jameson! I’m not one for posting videos on the web too often, but I had to come on here to make sure you knew that Spider-Man is a sweetheart who stands up for what’s right! When me and my girls attended the Women’s March last October, we were met with a giant mob of anti-feminist counter protesters shouting obscene things at us and waving around all kinds of hateful signs and flags. They were making everyone feel very unsafe, and a lot of people were considering leaving despite really wanting to be there to fight for our rights as human beings. 

“To all of our surprise and delight, Spider-Man came swinging from the rooftops to our rescue. He started covering their repulsive signs with spider webs and even snatched the megaphone right out of their leader’s hands! Every time they tried yelling more horrible things at us, he would drown them out by singing ‘Run The World’ by Beyonce as loud as he could or blasting ‘God is a woman’ into the megaphone. It was hilarious! Eventually, the counter protesters got so frustrated by his schemes, they all left in a big huff, and we were able to finish the march in peace. Now, does that sound like a menace to you? I should hope not! Unless you fancy yourself one of those backwards-thinking woman-haters, you’d better start respecting Spider-Man for the darling young man he is!”

“I never planned to tell anybody this story. But with everyone sharing their experiences with Spidey, I felt like it was time to share mine. 

“Two months ago, I hit a low that felt inescapable. I looked at my life, my loneliness, the state of the world, my lukewarm relationships, my shitty job, the endless repetition of each and every day, and thought: this is really it, isn’t it? This is all I have to look forward to for the rest of my existence. I felt so heavy and weary and broken, and was ready to just stop feeling altogether. 

“I was standing on the roof of my apartment building when he showed up. My feet were poking over the edge, and I was envisioning what my body might look like once I hit the pavement. I didn’t know much about Spider-Man at the time, but when he started speaking to me, I remember he sounded a lot younger than I expected. You don’t anticipate New York’s public enemy number one to have a voice that reminds you of your 17-year-old nephew, y’know? And based on the way he was acting, I’m pretty sure this was his first time dealing with this kinda situation.

“He asked me if I wanted to talk before I did anything else. I admitted that I didn’t, and suggested he leave unless he wanted to get blamed for what I was about to do. I couldn’t see any outcome of that evening that didn’t end with me dead in the street, but that didn’t mean I wanted anyone to have to witness it—or worse, feel like they were somehow responsible. Even if Spider-Man was as rotten as the news said, no one—especially a kid—deserves that. 

“I told him again and again to beat it. He kept asking if there was anyone he could call, anything he could say, something he could do. I was getting flustered and impatient, and spun around to yell at him to leave me the hell alone. Guess I turned a bit too aggressively, ‘cuz I wound up tripping over my own feet and falling backwards off the roof. 

I dropped about six or seven floors down before Spidey caught me. He started dishing out a million apologies, insisting that was the exact opposite of what he was trying to accomplish, and I couldn’t help but laugh. As he carried me to the ground and placed me on the sidewalk, I kept laughing and laughing until I was crying, and eventually that crying turned into uncontrollable sobs. I think those couple of seconds of free-falling flipped a switch in me or something. There was this explosion of all these conflicting emotions going on in the moments before and after he saved me, and maybe that made me—I don’t know, actually see the finality of what I was doing or whatever. While weeping like a fucking baby, I started ranting about how much I hated my life and all the stupid shit that had gotten me to the point where I was ready to off myself. I must’ve sounded batshit crazy, but Spider-Man sat there with me through it all until I’d run out of tears and things to say. Kid’s no quack, that’s for sure, but he tried his best to help. He bribed me into talking to the suicide hotline people by trading me Dratini on Pokemon Go. I’d been trying to find one of those for ages, and that little bastard had three! I think being able to swing from place to place on that webbing of his gives him an unfair advantage against the rest of us.

“Anyways. All this to say, Spidey saved my life that day. He didn’t impart any profound wisdom that suddenly made everything all sunshine and rainbows. He didn’t make any vacuous promises that everything would eventually be okay in the end. He just stayed, listened, said some stuff that made me laugh, and reminded me of the small things that make me happy—things I can build on and am willing to stick around for to continue enjoying for the time being. He may not be a hero in everyone’s eyes, but he’ll always be one in mine. 

“So if you’re ever having a bad day and happen to bump into Spider-Man, make him trade you a Dratini on Pokemon Go. By now I’m sure he has, like, forty.”

The video started to play again, but Ned closed the TikTok app and his phone along with it, turning to his friend in disbelief.

“I didn’t know you saved someone from taking their own life,” he said in quiet awe.

Peter slowly looked up from the screen, then smiled somberly, hunching his shoulders to his ears. “Like she said, I had no clue what I was doing. Someone else could’ve helped a lot better than I did. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time that night. It’s good to see she’s doing all right.”

Ned slipped his phone into his pocket without dropping his gaze from Peter’s face. “No wonder Johnny is trying so hard to get you to talk about yourself more online,” he gaped. “You do the most crazy heroic stuff every night, and hardly anyone knows about it! Including your best friend! Why don’t you tell me or anyone else about things like this more often?”

Peter took a big bite out of his hot dog, squinting against the blinding June sun. “I don’t know,” he murmured shyly. “I mean—you heard what that lady said. She guessed I was a teenager based just on my voice. And now fifty thousand people have watched her video and are probably connecting the same dots. The more people talk about me and the more visible Spider-Man becomes, the harder it’ll be to stay anonymous and keep the stuff I don’t want the public to know about me from being discovered.”

Like, say, my insanely huge crush on the Human Torch? he thought with a prickle of dread. 

“I think there’s a certain level of anonymity you’re going to have to sacrifice in order to make people trust Spidey more,” Ned told him pointedly. “I’m not saying ‘take off your mask and show your face to the world’ or anything. But if you and Johnny and others start speaking honestly about you more often, then yeah, people might suspect that you’re on the younger side, and sure, more of your interests and quirks and insecurities may come to light.” Ned dunked his jumbo soft pretzel in cheese sauce. “But I think that’s worth it if it means more people being forced to acknowledge what a badass superhero you are.” 

Peter wiped the mustard from his lips with a napkin, followed by the sheen of sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. “You really think so? You’re not worried about people digging a little too deep as, y’know—more and more of me starts showing through in Spider-Man’s public persona?”

Ned giggled. “Personally, I don’t think Peter Parker is showing through enough. Just look what one person speaking truthfully about you has led to! Now there’s thousands of videos and posts out there that prove you’re a good person! Isn’t it great to hear people speaking kindly about you for a change? Doesn’t it feel nice knowing that all the citizens you’ve helped and the good you’ve done hasn’t gone unnoticed after all?”

Peter sipped thoughtfully from his lemonade straw. He’d been so overwhelmed by the enormity of the response to Johnny’s call for Spider-Man anecdotes, he’d hardly allowed himself to acknowledge the substance of the content being shared, and how flattering a picture it painted of the webhead—a picture he’d never before seen reflected in the media until today. Since donning the mask at fourteen, Peter couldn't recall a time when Spider-Man’s name and image had gone viral online for positive reasons. To this day, a relentless onslaught of Spidey hate-posts were still being churned out minute by minute. But for once, the supportive ones seemed to outweigh the scornful. 

Yes, it did feel nice, he decided. To an almost foreign and inconceivable degree. Despite remembering every moment with every person he’d watched recount an interaction with the vigilante, as he listened to them share their stories and shower him in words of gratitude, it still felt like they were talking about someone else. Not Spider-Man. Not Peter Parker. Not him. 

“To be honest, it all kinda feels a bit too good to be true,” he admitted. “Being endorsed by one of the most popular celebrities in the world I’m sure has a lot to do with it, and it’s possible people are only saying kind things about me in hopes of catching his attention or being featured on his channel.” He ventured a small smile. “Still, I guess you’re right. It is nice. Maybe not everyone views Spidey the way Jameson does.”

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, cracking a grin. “Maybe people actually like Spider-Man.”

Peter shrugged, forcing nonchalance despite the unfamiliar ring of warmth circling his heart, irradiating him with bright spurs of hope. “Maybe,” he conceded softly. 

“In fact, maybe one specific person likes Spider-Man more than everyone else,” Ned added with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. When Peter met his gaze with a clueless stare, Ned groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Johnny! The Human Torch! You know, the guy going out of his way to tell everyone how wonderful and amazing you are? The dude putting his entire image and career on the line to prove you’re not a menace? The person we’ve been standing in the baking sun in this endless fucking line for almost four hours to meet?”

Peter blinked stupidly, then peered ahead at the long, wobbly queue of teens and college kids and superhero fanatics standing alongside children dressed in Fantastic Four costumes crying in their parents arms. About a quarter of a mile in the distance stood the tall, colorful pop-up booth that held the promise everyone here was willing to roast and sweat and hold out for: a few moments of face-to-face time with one Johnny Storm.

To their left were the three much shorter lines for the remaining members of the Fantastic Four. Ned had already made it through each of them to get his Funko Pops signed while Peter held their spot in the ridiculously lengthy Johnny queue. As usual, the fan favorite of the team was painfully obvious, which granted Peter a small nugget of relief. Despite his new association with the web-slinger, Johnny’s popularity seemed as intact and resilient as ever. He could only hope it would stay that way. 

Peter flushed a little at Ned’s insinuation and tried rerouting the conversation. “Do I have to remind you that you’re the one who dragged both of us here in the first place?”

“No. Just saying. You’re already reaping so many benefits of being the object of Johnny’s desire. Maybe if you put on the suit and made use of that irresistible Spidey charm, the two of us could skip to the front of the line.”

“I am not…” Peter started to retort, cheeks burning in the heat of the sun. But the look on his friend’s face verified it was pointless, so he scarfed down the rest of his hot dog with a line between his eyebrows. “I already told him Spider-Man wasn’t coming,” he mumbled. “Besides. I thought the whole point of this was for him to see Peter again, not Spider-Man.”

“Wrong. The point of this is so lowly little lay people such as myself have the chance to meet a few of our heroes in person. You seeing Johnny again is our secret special side mission, but let’s be real: you get to see him all the time! I haven’t met him once! Quit being so greedy!”

A quick laugh punched out of Peter, surprised and chagrined. “Fine, all right, I’m sorry. Do you really want me to abuse my Spidey privileges and jump you to the front of the line? If you’re seriously that upset about waiting, I could try—”

Ne waved him off. “No, no,” he grumbled, fanning himself with a handful of napkins. “I’m just hot and sweaty and impatient, and complaining about it loudly makes it a little less unbearable.”

Peter chuckled, combing his fingers through his damp curls. “That’s valid.”

The line scooched a couple paces ahead of them, forming a gap the two friends were quick to breach. Ned checked his watch again—the third time in the last five minutes—groaned, then bunched up all the garbage he held in his fists. 

“This is nuts! I could go through all three other lines again and meet the rest of the Fantastic Four a second time before we even get halfway through this one.”

Peter swatted at a fly buzzing by his ear. “Why don’t you?” he proposed. “Better than standing here whining at me for the next two to seven hours.”

Ned glanced back at him, a smile lighting up his face. “Why don’t you?” he counter offered. “This is probably your only chance to talk to all of them as yourself, not Spider-Man. Why not take a break from being a superhero and go be a fan for a change?”

Curiosity and uncertainty sparred in Peter’s chest as he turned to look at the three other queues. He hadn’t even considered meeting the other Fantastic Four members at this event. He didn’t think they’d have time, but now it was clear they had an overwhelming abundance to kill. 

Peter ran his thumb along his bottom lip in thought. Well…why don’t I? he wondered to himself. It wasn’t like he planned on revealing his secret identity to them anytime soon. It might be nice to meet them again as his regular self: a civilian and a fan, without all the baggage and presumptions that came with his spidery alter ego. During their initial introductions, he’d never had the chance to say the things he’d planned on saying or make the impression he’d wanted. This could be a kind of do-over for him—if only to satiate his neglected inner fanboy. 

“You’d be fine waiting here for me if I went?” Peter asked timidly. 

“Of course! You already did the same for me. I’m gonna keep moaning and complaining whether you’re here or not; might as well spare you the headache.” He dumped the handfuls of garbage in his fists into Peter’s unexpecting arms. “Plus, you can throw all this out on your way over there. Win-win.”

“Wow, thanks,” Peter deadpanned amusedly, struggling not to drop any remnants of their greasy snack haul. He stepped out of line towards the trash cans flanking the Thing’s queue. “Text me if you’re nearing the front and I’m not back yet.”

“Try not to get on Dr. Storm’s bad side a second time,” Ned suggested unhelpfully. Peter cut a frown in his direction as he dumped an armful of napkins and wrappers in the bin, then walked to stand in Ben Grimm’s line. 

It only took about thirty minutes for Peter to make it to the Thing’s booth. The craggy mountain of a man stood behind a table overflowing with toys and action figures and other Thing merchandise available for purchase. The wall behind him had all sorts of shirts and posters bearing his likeness pinned up along with the prices. “All Proceeds Go To Local NYC Animal Shelters” the sign above Ben’s head read. Peter swept his gaze across the overflowing piles and stacks of Thing memorabilia. He wondered if anyone would buy stuff like this if it were Spider-Man themed. Possibly—if only to douse it in gasoline and light it aflame as an effigy to their disgust.

“Well? Yah just gonna stand there and gawk? Or y’gonna come say hi?”

Stiffening, Peter lifted his eyes to meet the Thing’s. He had the harsh, beastly features of a man transformed into a weapon of mass destruction, more than capable of leveling several city blocks before anyone could slow him down. He’d witnessed the power Ben Grimm possessed firsthand, and had very nearly been squashed by it. But blinking within that brutal exterior were a pair of eyes begetting a gentle and inviting kindness—one that likely impeded most children from bursting into tears at the sight of him, and enough to ease Peter’s initial concern.  

“Oh, I—right. Sorry.” Peter approached the stand with a sting of urgency, not wanting to keep others waiting. Ben flashed him a grin that looked less like a grin and more like a grimace.

“What can I do yah for, kiddo?” the Thing asked spiritedly. “Photos? Signed trading cards? A T-shirt with my handsome mug on it? It’s for a good cause. All the money goes to lil’ pups and kitties in need.” He pointed to the giant sign above him in case Peter had somehow missed it. Peter hinted a smile.

“That’s okay,” he said, not seeing anything he could afford anyway. “I was actually hoping to ask you a question.”

Ben raised one rocky eyebrow and scratched his scarp of a jaw. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Ask away then, squirt.”

“What are your favorite and least favorite things about your teammates?”

Ben threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “Audacious today, aren’t we? You want the on-the-record answer, or the off one?”

“Just the truth,” he answered simply. The Thing smiled and nodded.

“The truth. All right, then. I’ll start with my good pal Reed.” He shot a glance to his right, where his friend was sitting one booth over. “My favorite thing about Reed is his passion for pushing science beyond its current limitations to solve the world’s biggest problems and help those in need. Coincidentally,” the Thing added with a snort of contempt, “that’s also my least favorite thing about him, since his obsession with progress and making new discoveries tends to get him and the people closest to him in a lot of trouble.”

Next, Ben turned to his right, where Susan stood about twenty feet away posing with a little girl dressed up like her. “My favorite thing about Sue is how much she cares about this team and how hard she works to prove our value and virtue to the world. No one advocates on our behalf more than she does, and she’s incredibly protective of every one of us. She truly views the Fantastic Four as her family.” Clouds rolled across his expression as his eyes fell to the grass. “My least favorite thing is how much pressure she puts on herself. She worries so much about the wants and needs of others, she winds up neglecting her own. If the things she plans don’t go perfectly, she beats herself up about it. If one of us makes a mistake, she feels like she’s somehow responsible for it. She was forced to grow up so fast and be a caretaker from such a young age, I think she’s kinda perpetually stuck in that mindset. I’d love to see her do something indulgent and selfish for a change.”

Peter blinked up at the superhero with curious eyes. Perhaps it was crass of him to think this way, but he was surprised to hear such a thoughtful and discerning character analysis come from the mouth of someone who was strong enough to tear a person in two with his bare hands. He looked towards the Invisible Woman and felt a small twist in his chest. 

“And as for Johnny,” Ben grumbled out, a noticeable irritation entering his tone, “oh, boy. Where do I begin with that one? Kid’s been the biggest pain in my backside since the first day I met ‘em. I can give you plenty of things I can’t stand about Johnny: his temper, his stubbornness, his complete lack of respect for authority, his mile-high ego. You know he once bedazzled the words ‘hard ass’ in the middle part of my back where I can’t reach while I was sleeping? Bastard’s lucky he can fly, or else I would’ve pummeled him to coal dust long ago.” He nodded in Peter’s direction. “He’s nothing like you. You seem like the polite, humble sort with a solid head on your shoulders. Johnny could learn a thing or two from a young man such as yourself.”

A coy chuckle floated from Peter’s throat. “So there’s nothing you like about him?” he prompted the Thing hesitantly. Ben crinkled his nose.

“Hmm. Let me think.” He gave his wide chin a few thoughtful taps. “I suppose despite everything I just said, I know for a fact that if it came down to it, Johnny would risk his neck to save me, and anyone else on this team. Even though the two of us constantly butt heads, deep down I know he’s a decent kid who’s been dealt a very crazy hand in life, and he’s doing his best to navigate it. So there. I’ll give him that much.”

Sounds about right, Peter mused with a smile. The teen stood on his tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of Johnny above the heads of the people in Dr. Storm’s line, but he couldn’t find a gap in the tightly packed crowds.

“Did that answer your question, squirt?” the Thing grunted impatiently.

“What about you?” Peter said. “What are your favorite and least favorite things about yourself?”

Ben let out a cackle. “That’s an easy one! My favorite thing about myself is I have the power to clobber anyone who tries to hurt my friends.” He held out his hand and wiggled the four pudgy, sausage-sized fingers attached to it. “My least favorite thing has to be how huge and useless my fingers are now. I mean, just look at ‘em! Try scrolling on a cell phone or using chopsticks with these meat hooks! It ain’t happening.”

The security guard standing to Ben’s left cleared his throat and gestured sharply with his head, signaling that it was time for Peter to move along. Peter’s grin dropped as he straightened his spine.

“Right. Sorry.” He eyed the donation box on the table and dug around in his pockets for loose change. “Uh, thanks a lot, Mr. Grimm. Great talking to you. And good luck with the fundraiser.” Peter managed to scrounge up one quarter, three nickels, and a pair of dirty, blackened pennies. He gingerly dropped them into the jar and hurried off before Ben tried to sell him a Thing prayer candle. 

Next up was Mr. Fantastic himself. As Peter waited his turn in the shortest of the four lines, he watched the bright-eyed scientist act equally shocked and delighted every time somebody wanted to get his autograph or take a photo with him. Adults and children alike exclaimed in awe whenever he stretched his arms abnormally long to embrace entire families and friend groups for pictures. 

Peter saw a lot of himself in Reed Richards. Without their flashy costumes or supernatural abilities, the two of them were nothing more than science-obsessed nerds whom most of society wouldn’t blink twice at. Fame and notoriety outside the field of scientific discovery were never in the cards for people like them—until those things were thrust upon the pair by some strange endeavor of the universe with a terrible sense of humor. 

Outside of being a superhero, at least Reed had the Baxter Foundation to his name. Peter wondered if he’d ever achieve something like that. He could see his future self working at an institution like Baxter or Stark Industries someday, but he doubted he’d ever own his own company. Spider-Manning already ate up too much of his free time, and his number one priority would always be helping out the little guy. Unless he founded a company focused exclusively on that, he didn’t want any part of it.  

But that was for older Peter to worry about. Right now, present Peter’s only priority was being a fan and geeking out. 

“Hello there!” Reed greeted him as Peter stepped up to his booth. “Welcome to the Fantastic Four’s First Annual Fundraiser! How are you doing today?”

“I wrote my finals essay about you,” Peter heard himself blurt out with a little too much enthusiasm. Perhaps he’d underestimated how excited he’d be to talk to one of his idols as himself and discuss things he wasn’t able to mention as Spider-Man, since it would reveal he was in high school. Immediately, Peter cringed and reddened, giving his head a quick shake. “Sorry—your book, I mean. On aerospace engineering and astrophysics. I wrote a paper about it. ‘Cuz, y’know. It was amazing. And you’re amazing. I’m gonna shut up now.”

Reed chuckled cheerfully. “No, please—keep talking! I rarely ever meet anyone at these events who’s managed to make it through one of my baroque publications—or greater still, actually comprehended them enough to write an essay on their content. And at such a young age, no less! How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Peter replied. Richards gawked.

“And you read all fourteen hundred pages of ‘Engineering the New Age of Aerospace Exploration’?”

“I’ve read all seven of your books,” Peter clarified, scratching his neck with a shy grin. “But ‘Aerospace Exploration’ was my favorite.”

Mr. Fantastic beamed brighter than the glaring sun overhead. “You’re kidding! Holy cow! The only sixteen-year-old I’m around on a daily basis spends his free time coiffing his hair for hours on end and antagonizing his sister. It would do Johnny good to see what other people his age are capable of accomplishing with some discipline and dedication.” Reed extended his hand, which Peter took timidly in his own, and gave it an eager shake. “Please tell me you’re planning to pursue a career in the field of science.”

“That’s the dream,” Peter assured him.

Richards pawed at his pocket-less costume in search of something urgent, cursed, then ducked under the table to scour the nooks of his abandoned suit jacket. He popped upright a few seconds later with a card between his fingers and a triumphant look on his face. He held the piece of paper out to Peter.

“Call me whenever you’re in the market for a job or an internship. I’d love to sit down and really get to know you and what you aspire to do with that extraordinary mind of yours, and how the Baxter Foundation might help you achieve your goals. And I’m very interested in reading what you had to say about my book.”

Peter lit up like a firecracker. “Really?” he exclaimed, accepting the card from him. “You actually—I just—thank you, Dr. Richards! That would be amazing. I’ve always wanted the chance to pick your brain on quantum particle physics and zero distance string theory.” 

“Even more reason to look forward to our conversation,” Reed said spiritedly. 

Peter slipped the card into his back pocket and ran a hand down the front of his T-shirt. “Now I’m kicking myself for not bringing something for you to sign,” he admitted with a giggle. 

Richards’ smile widened. “Whenever we meet to chat, I’ll bring you a signed copy of ‘Aerospace Exploration.’ How does that sound?” 

“Like I’d better buy a lottery ticket on my way home while my luck is this good.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Mr. Fantastic insisted, sending the teen on his way with a wave and a grin. “We’ll talk soon, yes?”

Peter nodded fervidly, even though he had no idea how or when he’d be able to make that happen. He didn’t dare meet up with him at Avengers Tower; too great a chance of that legendary intellect of his connecting the dots between the excitable teenager and the masked vigilante with the two in such close proximity. And technically speaking, Peter Parker already had an internship—with Stark Industries. It was mostly a cover-up for his time spent with Tony as Spider-Man, but it could still make starting a second one complicated. Perhaps he shouldn’t pursue that kind of thing with the Baxter Foundation at all, just to be safe. He was more interested in meeting with Reed Richards just to talk science shop anyway; working at his company might have to wait until a later date.

The third booth before Johnny’s had the most diverse collection of fans in line: chittering, giggly little girls next to men and boys who looked like they had a history of getting kicked out of baseball stadiums. As Peter neared the front, he peeked between the patrons ahead of him to catch a glimpse of Dr. Susan Storm’s table and fan merch, only to find it empty. Well, not empty of merch—there were enough hoodies, bobble heads, hats, and fridge magnets to fill a Fantastic Four memorabilia museum. But Sue herself was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she’d left for a break away from the mob of sweaty patrons. That’s what Peter figured, anyway—until he saw a floating pen autographing a child’s drawing all by itself, as if possessed by a ghost. Peter blinked, his brain not comprehending what his eyes were seeing. Then a hand suddenly bloomed into existence, holding the pen in its fingers, followed by the rest of the person signing the piece of paper. Visibility cascaded across Susan Storm’s torso and limbs, her head being the last part of her to regain opacity. The crowd ooohed and aaawed in amazement.

“There you go,” Sue said, offering the drawing back to the little boy. The kid squealed with excitement, bringing a smile to the Invisible Woman’s face that actually looked genuine for a change. The child’s parents thanked her profusely, adding a thick wad of cash to the donation box as they herded their offspring away. Only a few people left ahead of Peter.

“Can we get a group picture?” the men in front of him asked, looking a tad too eager for Peter's liking. Susan hesitated for only an instant, eyes darting between them, then nodded and stood from her chair.

“Of course,” she said, motioning the men forward. “Gather ‘round, folks.”

Whispering and snickering, the four guys surrounded the young woman. Two on her left, two on her right, two large hands snaking around her waist. Something prickly twisted in Peter’s gut. Once they were in position, Sue smiled for the photo, but with her jaw clenched taut.

“One, two, three!” the photographer called before snapping a string of pictures. The moment her obligation was fulfilled, Sue’s palms dropped to her sides, but the men kept their arms glued to her flanks. 

“Let’s do one more,” the shortest of the four men insisted, peeling into a grin that made Peter’s skin crawl. “This time, Susie dear, why don’t you make your whole body invisible except the parts that matter: that scrumptious ass and those delicious tits.”

The men cackled, including an awkward laugh from the photographer and a few nasty giggles from some people behind Peter. Shock collided with rage in Peter’s blood. He watched the fake smile on Sue’s face snuff out like a candle flame. Exhausted irritation dulled the blue of her eyes to an icy pewter. Her muted reaction indicated this behavior was something she encountered far too often, which lanced Peter with renewed fury. 

“You guys are pigs,” Peter snapped, stepping forward with his hands curled into fists. Susan shoved the men off of her with a look of controlled boredom.

“Ah, c’mon darling! We’re just messing with yah! Don’t be like that! We’ll make an extra-large donation if you do it! Ugh—how come bitches can’t ever take a joke?”

While Peter was debating which angle to punch his face from first, Sue turned towards the chortling men like a wolf cornering a wounded deer. She had the posture and cadence of a person well-versed in standing up to assholes like this on the regular. 

“One fun thing I learned about my powers recently,” the Invisible Woman said, face schooled into a blank expression. “I can create force fields inside other objects and expand them until they explode. It’s rather fun, actually. I’ve blown up water bottles, boiled eggs, mayonnaise jars, bricks. But you know what I haven’t tested it on yet?” Her eyes narrowed. “The human body.”

The men’s ugly grins wobbled. 

“I wonder what would happen if I expanded a force field inside your liver? Or your kidney? Your pulmonary valve, perhaps?” Her gaze flicked to the shortest man’s receding hairline. “Or maybe inside that balding head of yours.”

Tiny blue spheres sprung to life in the center of her palm and started swirling between her fingers in a smooth, threatening dance. She held them out towards the men as they spun and swelled bigger, bigger, bigger. “So if you’re interested in keeping the parts of your bodies that matter intact, I suggest you leave. Now.” The three force fields combined into one and shot forward, making the men flinch. The disk of concentrated power slipped underneath the donation bin and lifted it off the table; the box hovered to a stop right below the four assholes’ noses. “Be sure to leave a generous contribution on your way out. One big enough to reflect the scope of my phenomenal self-restraint.”

Slowly, shamefully, the men exchanged hesitant looks, beads of sweat glimmering on their foreheads. Then, grumbling to themselves, they began groping around for their wallets, averting their eyes from Dr. Storm’s menacing glare. 

Once they’d paid their penance, a security guard shepherded the assholes away from Sue’s booth. Rigidly, the Invisible Woman returned to her seat behind the table, forcing the ice to melt from her expression as she heaved a weary sigh. Anger spilled into sorrow at the hideous treatment Peter had just watched her endure. She’d handled it remarkably, leaving no space for anyone to believe that speaking to her like that was okay—but that didn’t make what happened any less demoralizing. On top of being a superhero, working round the clock to keep her brother out of trouble, and managing all of the Fantastic Four’s public relations, Dr. Storm was saddled with pressures that neither Peter nor her teammates would ever bear or understand. Perhaps her being expected to handle all those responsibilities in the first place was indicative of the pressures she as a female superhero experienced. Peter didn’t see Ben or Reed going out of their way to set up talk show interviews or put on events like this, nor were they likely to take the fall should those exploits go horribly wrong. And they certainly weren’t being publicly degraded by disgusting men. 

Everything she did—organizing fan events, advocating for her team, fortifying their public image, dealing with misogynistic assholes with poise and class rather than slugging them between the eyes like they deserved—it was all to protect her family. Including being distrustful of Spider-Man, he realized with a pang. Peter could relate to the proclivity to keep the wall-crawler as far from one’s loved ones as possible: he’d forged the identity of the masked vigilante for that very purpose. 

Even though they expressed it in different ways, there was one trait Sue and Johnny shared that was both their strength and their curse: how deeply they cared about things, even at their own expense. 

Susan cast her gaze across the busy park, gauging how the event was going so far, taking inventory of the attendees and the overflowing trash cans and the insufficient amount of shade, deducting what she could do to make sure everything and everyone was happy and taken care of. Peter could practically see the rapid-fire calculations running behind her eyes as he approached the Invisible Woman like a hiker tip-toeing across a frozen lake. 

“Hi,” he greeted her carefully. Peter watched Dr. Storm’s far-off gaze snap back into focus, eyes blinking as they jerked up to find his. 

“Oh—hello,” Susan said. Her soft smile returned, although it took a few moments to reach her eyes. She sat up tall and breathed with intention, reactivating her cheerful fan-service persona. “Sorry about all that. I hope I didn’t scare you. I probably could’ve handled that without threatening to blow someone up from the inside out.” She let out a weak laugh, face going pale. “Which I would never actually do, by the way. Oh god—why did I say that?”

“They got off easy in my opinion,” Peter reassured her. “I think they deserved a ruptured kidney or two. A couple popped blood vessels at least.”

Sue deflated in relief, glad she hadn’t scarred a teenage fan for life, then chuckled. “I like you already,” she decided.

“I’m…sorry they talked to you that way,” Peter said carefully. “It’s messed up that you have to deal with people like that.”

Dr. Storm did a quick scan of his face, expression gentle and welcoming. Much different from the hard scowl he was met with whenever she spoke to him in costume. Then she gave a nonchalant wave.

“It’s all right. Dealing with the occasional jerk just makes me that much more grateful when I get to talk to real fans like you.” Clearly ready to move on from the subject, she gestured to all the different trinkets and merch stacked across the table. “See anything you like? Do you have any pets? We have Fantastic Four dog toys now. My brother’s is currently the fan favorite, and it’s quite fun watching the pups chew on his face with such enthusiasm.” She squeaked one of the toys in her hand for emphasis. 

Peter smiled at the Human Torch plush, which had little felt flames poking out of its hair. “Johnny is really lucky to have a sister like you,” he thought out loud. He wasn’t sure if what he was about to say would cross some unspoken Susan Storm boundary, but he continued anyway. “It’s really inspiring to me—how you stepped up to take care of him after going through so much loss. Most people aren’t capable of that kind of strength or bravery.” He lowered his gaze, scratching at his forearm. “I was raised by a family member who stepped in to help after I lost my parents, too. I’ve spent the last decade watching her struggle and make sacrifices to shape me into a good person and give me a happy life. She never wanted kids, but she took me in and treated me as her own without hesitation. What she’s done for me—and what you’ve done for Johnny—I think it’s one of the most selfless and heroic things a person can do. I’ll never be able to repay the debt I owe her, but it’s people like you and her who make me want to dedicate my life to helping others.” He bit the inside of his cheek and shrugged. “I just…wanted you to know that.”

When Peter’s gaze lifted to Sue’s after his soapbox was complete, he was startled to find her eyes flooded with tears. She and Johnny really were a lot more alike than either of them wanted to admit. The Invisible Woman pressed a finger to a droplet on her cheek with a look of disbelief, as if she, too, was shocked by her reaction. Peter swallowed, skin flushing with regret. 

“I—I’m sorry, Dr. Storm. I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to make you—”

“It’s okay,” she laughed in a broken, watery voice. “I’m okay, really. I don’t know what’s come over me. That just—” She dabbed frantically under her eyes, trying her best not to smear her makeup. “— really caught me by surprise. Phew. I just—I always feel like I’m failing him, y’know? Like I have no clue what the hell I’m doing, like everything I say just drives a larger wedge between us. Like maybe I should’ve read a book or a manual on parenthood or being an older sibling and a parent at the same time or something, but…” She sniffled, fighting to resurrect her stoic mask of strength and impenetrability. “But…um…thank you. That was…very kind of you to say.”

“Of course,” Peter said with a cautious smile. Ben was right: Susan Storm put way too much pressure on herself, and clearly deserved far more recognition for her altruistic spirit than Peter or anyone else awarded her. It felt good to do something that made her feel appreciated for once, instead of apprehensive and pissed off. Even if she never warmed up to Spider-Man, Peter didn’t have the heart to hold it against her. Her disapproval was derived not from malice, but from the need to protect the person they both cared so much about. He shifted his weight between his feet. “Unrelated, but I’m also super invested in your research on the molecular mechanisms of microbial life forms that allow certain species to survive in outer space. Are you planning to conduct any new experiments soon?”

Dr. Storm stared at him like he had grown a second head. “How do you know about that?” she asked bewilderedly. 

Peter frowned. “Wasn’t that one of the things you were researching during your space mission in February? Y’know—before the particle cloud hit?”

Sue scoffed. “Yes, but hardly anyone knows about it. With Reed’s research on hyperspace travel being the mission’s primary objective and everything that followed after the cosmic rays struck our starship, my little passion project on microorganisms in space was understandably overshadowed.” 

“Well, I liked it,” Peter countered with a grin. “Your experiments with the ways the outer space environment can affect microbes’ cell metabolism, proliferation rate, cell motility, virulence, and biofilm production were fascinating, especially the parts evidencing the resilience of extremophilic microbial species. If you do decide to continue your research, know that you’ll be making one very nerdy fan who spends way too much time scouring through biochemistry news forums extremely happy.” 

Susan Storm smiled the most authentic smile Peter had ever seen her direct his way. “I doubt I’ll ever find the time or funding to explore that research any farther,” she admitted, interlacing her hands on top of the table. She gave him a small nod. “But…I’ll look into it. One science nerd to another.”

Peter mirrored her smile tenfold. “Awesome!” he exclaimed. “Maybe I can write my next analysis essay on your future findings. This research could help us understand how beings like Captain Marvel and the Asgardians are able to survive deep space travel at the molecular level without their bodily fluids boiling or the air being vacuumed from their lungs or—”

“Peter!”

The teenager flinched, head whipping towards the sound of his name. Across the lawn, he spotted Ned in Johnny’s line, only a few people away from the very front, hopping up and down and waving his arms around like his hair was on fire. He could hardly believe how far the line had moved since he’d left. How long had he been gone? Peter threw his friend a quick thumbs-up, then turned back to Dr. Storm.

“Going to see my brother next?” Susan asked, crinkling her nose with feigned disgust. “Could you go ahead and repeat all those nice things you said about me being a selfless and heroic sister to him? Y’know, remind him how lucky he is to have such a committed and loving older sibling? Oh,” she added, snagging something from under the table, “and would you mind giving this to him? Us Storms burn like goddamn marshmallows on days like this.” 

Sue handed him the item, which appeared to be a bottle of some kind of fancy Korean sunscreen. The thought of a guy who could light his whole body on fire being susceptible to sunburn made Peter giggle softly to himself. His heart buoyed at the thought of all the little things Susan remembered and did like this to show how much she cared for Johnny. She truly loved her brother, despite the message getting lost in translation more often than not. 

“I’m on it,” Peter promised, waving back at her as he stepped away from the booth. “Really great meeting you! Sorry again for making you cry! You’re amazing!”

Susan chuckled. “Great meeting you too, Peter.”

Peter startled. He didn’t remember telling her his name. He supposed she must’ve heard when Ned screamed it at him from Johnny’s line. Too bad she’d never know that Peter—the nerdy fan she’d deemed kind and trustworthy—was also the masked vigilante she considered a menace and a threat. 

Peter jogged across the field to meet his friend, who looked about ready to burst with excitement. 

“Thank god!” Ned exclaimed, grabbing Peter by the sleeve and dragging him back into the queue. “You weren’t answering your phone! I was in full panic mode thinking you weren’t gonna make it in time!” Ned noticed the bottle in his hand and scowled. “What is that? A souvenir?”

“Sunscreen,” Peter said. “For Johnny. Dr. Storm asked me to give it to him. Apparently he sunburns easily.”

Ned met his gaze, stunned. “For real? Aw! She entrusted you with a quest! I guess Peter Parker made a better first impression with her than Spider-Man did, huh?” 

Peter shrugged. “Guess so. With all three of them, actually. Probably has something to do with my big brown doe eyes and dumb squishy baby face. That’s how Mr. Stark describes them, anyway—which I hate.”

Ned snickered. “Let’s see if your doe eyes and baby face work on the Human Torch, too.”

The two friends scooched another couple steps forward in line, and the smooth wave of Johnny Storm’s sunset-gold hair caught Peter’s eye past the shoulder of the woman in front of him, quickly followed by a glimpse of his angular jaw, a flash of that zany smile. The fans he was currently speaking to moved aside, squealing to each other and shouting their “thanks yous” and “goodbyes” as they scampered away, arms loaded with autographed Johnny merch, and suddenly there was only one person between them and the Human Torch. He was mere minutes from meeting him as Peter Parker once again. Not as Spider-Man—a daring superhero with a life of thrills and adventure, whom Johnny considered his equal and friend—but as himself. Peter Benjamin Parker. An awkward, unpopular loser whose greatest adversaries prior to gaining powers had been overdue electricity bills and high school bullies. Not that those things had gone away after he’d become Spider-Man, per se. He just had bigger problems to deal with alongside them. 

None of this should’ve bothered him, seeing how Peter would just be another random fan for Johnny to forget about the moment he left his direct line of vision. But a tiny, paranoid voice caressed his mind with ice-cold whispers, revving the excited thump of Peter’s pulse to a wild roar: What if he finds you out? What if he realizes it’s you? What if he recognizes your voice? Your demeanor? Your weird nervous habits? It was pretty easy to keep people who knew him only as Peter from discovering he was Spider-Man; no one suspected a guy as scrawny and nerdy as him to be lifting cars over his head or fighting off feral space aliens. But this was the first time someone who knew Spider-Man extremely well was meeting his boring civilian counterpart more than once. What if Johnny clocked him the moment he opened his mouth?

Eager anticipation careened into nauseous anxiety. He grabbed Ned’s wrist, feet rooted in place, sunlight searing the back of his neck. 

“This was a mistake,” Peter croaked out, watching Johnny form a little heart-shaped flame in his palms while the girl in front of them took a video. He jerked his head left and right. “M-maybe we should just—”

Immediately, Ned tore out of his friend’s grip. “Oh, no,” he said, wrapping both arms around Peter’s elbow as tight as a constrictor snake and hauling him forward like a sack of potatoes. “No way am I letting you chicken out now. Not after six hours of waiting for this exact moment.”

Peter dug his heels in the hard dirt beneath them, throat dry, palms clammy. “Ned, wait—you don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly, ” his friend interceded. “You’re nervous, and that’s okay! This is a complex emotional situation you’re stepping into. But we’re not gonna let some last-minute nerves get in the way of you and Johnny’s highly anticipated reunion. Not on my watch.”

Peter shook his head, sputtering out more pathetic, mildly coherent protests, desperate to get Ned to listen, but he couldn’t form the words fast enough. The woman in front of them was already wrapping up her chat with Johnny and moving away from the booth, leaving nothing but a couple feet of empty space between the pair of friends and the Human Torch. Peter’s heart ballooned as the young hero became fully visible to him: his infectious grin reaching every corner of his face, freckled cheeks flushed in the hot summer sun. At the same time, his stomach dropped like the Coney Island Astro Tower.

“Have a lovely day,” Johnny called after the girl, blowing her a kiss that floated from his lips in lazy circles of smoke. As he watched the haze fade into the atmosphere, an ugly feeling speared through Peter, lashing him down to the bone. 

Jealousy. And not jealousy for Johnny, like he’d previously assumed—but jealousy of the girl he was blowing kisses at. The realization made him consider throwing himself into the trash can on his right and hiding amongst the filth until he shriveled up and died. 

“I’ll break the ice, then you’re up, bestie,” Ned whispered to him. He gave Peter’s arm a squeeze, then skipped fearlessly towards the Human Torch, throwing a wink over his shoulder. “Don’t be weird! You got this!”

“Hey there,” Johnny said as Ned approached, flames flicking across the tips of his wiggling fingers. Effortlessly cool as always, he thought bitterly. Peter hung back, grinding his molars together, wringing the bottle of sunscreen between his fists. 

“Hello Johnny!” Ned answered emphatically. He swung his backpack to the front of his body and snagged the Human Torch Funko Pop box out of the biggest pocket. “I can’t believe we finally made it! My friend and I have been waiting here all day just to meet you and get your autograph.”

“I appreciate your incredible patience,” Johnny said, taking the collectible from Ned’s outstretched hands. “Our outdoor fundraiser of course had to fall on the hottest day of the summer so far.” He sounded a bit rehearsed and mechanical, like he’d been repeating the same phrases again and again all day, but no less friendly. He swiped a palm across his sweaty forehead and grinned at the bobble head Ned had given him. “Wow! Limited edition. These are hard to come by. You must be very proud.”

“Not gonna lie, having the full signed Fantastic Four set will probably be the proudest achievement of my life so far.” Shyly, Ned held up his phone, hovering his finger over the record button. “Would you mind if I filmed you autographing it? You know, for authenticity’s sake?”

“Go right ahead,” Johnny said warmly. He held up his index finger, the tip glowing red-hot. “Want it in ink, or burned on?”

“Burned, please,” Ned answered immediately. “Burned is by far the coolest.”

Johnny nodded. “You got it.” Using his pointer finger like a mini blow torch, he went to work gently searing his name into the Funko Pop box, sweeping his autograph across the thin cardboard in long, sloping arcs as he must’ve done a thousand times already. Ned smiled as wide as the Hudson as he recorded him, struggling not to bounce from foot to foot.

“Does your friend have anything they want signed?” Johnny asked as he finished the final stroke of his signature. Peter had been mostly hidden behind Ned up to this point, but his treacherous best friend stepped to the side so there was nothing left to shield him from Johnny’s magnetic gaze, shooting him an encouraging look. Peter’s face heated as Johnny’s eyes rose from the Funko Pop to meet his, then slowly widened.

“Do you?” Ned prompted him.

Peter shook his head rigidly. “No. I’m good. Thank you.”

“Hey,” Johnny said, wagging a finger at him, eyes brightening with recognition. “I know you!”

Peter’s heart practically burst through his ribcage. “W-what?” he yelped, staggering back a step. “You do?”

“Yeah! You’re that guy who yelled at me outside of the bubble tea shop.”

Peter’s jaw dangled open, then immediately clamped shut, relief draining through him. Oh, thank god. He only recognized him from that one-time encounter, not as the spider-themed superhero he’d befriended over the past week. So long as he played it cool, Johnny would never figure out who he was really speaking to.

You know. Because he was so good at playing it cool.

Ignoring Ned, whose face was about to split in two from how aggressively he was smiling, Peter swallowed. “Oh. Right. I’m surprised you remember that.”

Johnny’s lips turned upwards playfully. “How could I forget? You were awfully pissed at me that day, pretty boy.” 

Deadly heat shuddered up Peter’s spine. Ned smothered a snicker in his sleeve to his left. 

“To be fair, I deserved it,” Johnny continued with a shrug. “I caused a lot of unnecessary damage and was in desperate need of a reality check. You were right to call me out on my shit, especially since you said I almost killed your best—” Horror flashed across his expression as he clapped both hands over his mouth. “Oh my god,” he mumbled into his palms, voice dripping with dread as his eyes flicked back to Ned. “Was that you? Are you his friend I almost killed?”

Ned waved him off casually. “Don’t sweat it. Water under the bridge. It was really cool to get to see you all live in action—even if I did almost get blasted in the face by a fireball. Most eventful boba run to date.”

Johnny shook his head in dismay. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t myself that day. That doesn’t excuse what I did, I just—I hope you know I won’t ever let my own personal drama drive me to behave that recklessly ever again.” 

Ned tapped the side of his temple. “Trust me—in my mind, any bad things you’ve ever done are entirely negated by the fact that I now own a collectible with your signature on it.”

Johnny’s concerned expression eased into a halfhearted smile, followed by a light laugh that sent sparks sizzling across Peter’s skin. “I’m lucky to have such forgiving fans,” he said, handing the Funko Pop back to Ned. His Baltic blue eyes veered to Peter again, drinking in his features with unabashed curiosity. “I need you to know the Fantastic Four paid back all the business owners for the damages I caused that day, including the owner of that tea shop.” Earnestness and guilt saturated every word from his lips. “She’s set to start rebuilding next week, and I promised her I’d come by once she reopens to post myself trying her drinks to give her sales a big boost and make up for all the trouble I caused.” He searched Peter’s gaze, fraught to right the wrongs he’d committed, his neck and forehead slick with sweat. Johnny felt everything so poignantly, including remorse for his mistakes. He’d be gutted if Peter refused to forgive him, despite him being some no-name stranger he’d probably never speak to again. Like alway, it softened Peter’s heart to see just how much the Storm siblings cared. 

“That’s nice of you,” Peter said measuredly. The reply came out more curt and sterile than he intended, but he was scared of talking in longer bouts—scared that his voice or speaking patterns might start sounding familiar to the fiery celebrity. When Johnny looked wounded by his robotic answer, he added: “Thank you. For, um, helping her. And the others. They deserve it. Not having their businesses burned down, obviously, but—y’know. Being helped.”

Wow. Smooth, Pete. A true masterclass in playing it cool.

Johnny leaned back in his chair with one arm draped across the backrest and his opposite foot tucked into his lap. His sun-drowsed stare traced Peter up and down, studying him like a strange modern art piece he was trying to pull meaning out of. The corner of his mouth ticked towards the sky.

“You’re tough to read, pretty boy. First you berate me in the street—warranted, but still harsh—then you wait in line for hours and hours just for the chance to chat with me for a few minutes. I can’t decide if you like me or hate me.”

It didn’t matter how many times Johnny threw on a smirk and spoke to him in that bold, impish tone: the Human Torch’s charm never failed to fluster him to the same blistering degree. Peter dug his teeth into his bottom lip to keep himself from saying something he’d regret.

“Oh, he definitely likes you,” Ned answered for him with a giggle, making Peter go scarlet. 

“Ned!” Peter hissed, whacking him in the arm with the sunscreen bottle. Ned cackled as he winced sideways, rubbing at his elbow. Johnny eyed Peter with a renewed sparkle of interest.

“You do?” he said, irises like sapphires in the blazing light. “I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“We both like you for standing up for Spider-Man,” Ned conceded, causing Peter’s muscles to calcify. “He’s our favorite superhero, too.” 

It took all of his collective willpower not to react to the name drop. What are you doing!? Peter wanted to scream. The last person they needed to be bringing up right now was the famous wall-crawler. Any reference or association to the webhead in their current state was downright begging for Johnny to discover the truth. Him and Ned really should’ve spent a chunk of the last six hours establishing some ground rules for this conversation. 

Johnny beamed. “No kidding? See—I knew he had fans out there besides me! And you’re not the first people to tell me that today, either. I tried to convince him to come to this, y’know. Now I can tell him about all the Spidey fans he missed out on meeting.”

Peter pressed his lips into a thin smile while shouting every curse under the sun inside his head. Ned and Johnny both stared at him like they expected him to add something to the conversation. When he didn’t, Johnny narrowed his eyes. 

“I’m still not convinced you like me,” he admitted. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else but here. I guess I can’t really blame you after everything I put you through, but still. It hurts. Is there anything else I can do to make up for my shitty behavior? There’s nothing worse than having eyes as lovely as yours look at me with such animosity.”

Ditsy warmth crept into his ears as a confusing hodgepodge of emotions washed through him. It both thrilled and disappointed Peter that Johnny was speaking to him like this. Of course he enjoyed being called pretty and lovely by his crush. Every compliment he tossed his direction sent the butterflies in Peter’s belly into a mad rush through his digestive tract. But it only confirmed his gloomiest suspicions: Johnny’s flirtatious behavior wasn’t exclusive to Spider-Man. He charmed everyone this way—captivating hearts left and right without even trying. It was encouraging to know that he liked the way Peter looked beneath his mask, but disheartening to realize his relationship with the webhead was truly nothing special. 

“Don’t mind him,” Ned said. He peered back at Peter, cracking a wicked grin. “He’s not mad; he’s just nervous to talk to you. You’re his biggest crush, after all.”

Johnny’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Ned let out a fiendish giggle. Peter’s jaw fell open as his skin turned to molten iron. 

No he did not.

As the blush in Peter’s face permeated his bones, Johnny’s gaze snapped back to him. The teen’s mouth curled in delight. 

“Oh really?” he mused. “Is that true, pretty boy?”

“Y-your sister asked me to give this to you,” Peter blurted out before Ned or Johnny or anyone else had the chance to say another goddamn word. He shouldered past his snickering friend and jabbed his arm towards Johnny with the sunscreen in his fist. “She said you burn easily.”

Blinking, Johnny took the bottle from him, then scoffed. “Are you serious?” He turned in the direction of his elder sibling, lifting the sunscreen high above his head. “Sue!”

Dr. Storm glanced up from the fan-made doll she was admiring and cut a frown in Johnny’s direction. When Johnny mouthed “the fuck?” at her, pointing at the bottle, she mimed rubbing sunscreen on her face in reply. The Human Torch groaned.

“I can’t believe she put you up to this,” he muttered. “She’s ridiculous. I already applied plenty this morning.”

Despite the embarrassment ingesting him like quicksand, an unexpected smile seized Peter’s lips at Johnny’s childish irritation. He tapped a finger to his cheek. “Based on how red your face is right now, I think she’s doing you a favor. You definitely look like you need some more.”

Recapturing his gaze, Johnny returned his smile with roguish amusement. “I could say the same for you, darling—although I’m pretty sure yours is red for different reasons.”

Once again, Peter’s heart leapt inside his chest, the color in his cheeks deepening even more. Being subjected to Johnny’s flirtatious teasing without a mask to conceal its demonstrable effect on him was a whole new level of mortifying Peter had no interest growing accustomed to.

“What did it for you?” Johnny inquired, squirting sunscreen into his palms and gingerly dabbing it onto his face. “The hair? The teeth? My redemptive philanthropy and bottomless altruism? Or is it the flames? It’s usually the flames.”

Peter knew he was only asking to get a rise out of him, but Johnny’s question presented him with an opportunity most people would never encounter: the chance to confess to one’s crush exactly how one felt about him without enduring the consequences of him knowing who he was actually talking to. Spider-Man could never tell Johnny how he truly felt—but Peter Parker could. Because Peter Parker was no one to him. 

He would not gush over every detail of what made Johnny the object of his affection; Johnny got that every hour of every day, and his ego was already big enough as is. Instead, he would keep it short, simple, and honest—and perhaps grant the Human Torch a taste of his own mischievous medicine for a change.

So Peter swallowed his sticky insecurity and took a step closer to him, leveling his gaze with the smug twinkle in Johnny’s eyes. 

“I like that you don’t care about anyone’s opinion of you except for the people most important to you,” Peter stated matter-of-factly. To top it off, he reached out and gently rubbed the streak of sunscreen on Johnny’s forehead into his skin, gliding his thumb across the scar just above his eyebrow. “But the hair and the flames are a nice added bonus.”

Although already pink with sunburn, Peter swore he saw the Human Torch’s cheeks flush a shade darker, and his enhanced hearing picked up on the sound of his heart thumping a few beats faster. A triumphant smirk found Peter’s lips. Just because he was the one with the crush didn’t mean Johnny got to have all the fun with it. He let his thumb drag along the line of Johnny’s temple as he pulled his hand away. The Human Torch blinked at him, lips parted, eyes wide, then lightly touched where Peter's finger had been, tiny wisps of smoke curling off his scalp. 

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly. There was no toying or playfulness in his tone this time—only genuine interest. Now it was Peter’s turn to be caught off guard. He supposed there was no point in lying. 

“Peter,” he said.

“Peter what?”

A shy giggle escaped him. “Parker. Peter Parker.”

Johnny giggled back. “Well then, Peter Parker. You’re a very mysterious person. I like that.” He held up his fist for Peter to bump. “It was great to see you again. Looking forward to the next time we meet.” 

Peter smiled, reaching out to tap his knuckles to Johnny’s, but froze just before they made contact. Despite the heat, a sudden chill crawled up his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Fear raked its claws across his skin. 

“Peter?” he heard Ned call, followed by a rumble of excited chatter from the crowds surrounding them. A moment later, a shadow rose up behind him, blocking out the sun, casting Johnny’s wide eyes in a shaft of darkness. A monstrous hand curled around his shoulder, making Peter’s entire body seize up. He knew who it was before he even saw his face or heard his voice. His senses had warned him of that ruthless presence many times before. His lungs had screamed for air as those bloodthirsty fingers crushed the oxygen from his windpipe. 

“Pardon me,” the man behind him said, his voice as deep and haunting as he remembered. The last time he’d heard it, it was roaring with laughter as Peter fled through a shattered window, glass slicing his hands, broken ribs crunching like glow sticks, vision tunneling with pain and terror. “Mr. Storm and I need a moment alone, if you don’t mind.”

Peter’s eyes slowly rose to find the face of the man looming over him. He had brutal eyes and deep frown lines that fixed him with a constant look of vitriol, even when he was smiling. His bald head gleamed in the sunshine like a freshly peeled egg. 

Kingpin. 

Wilson Fisk didn’t even bother to look at Peter as he shoved him out of his way. He regarded him with the same courtesy a charging elephant awards a twig. Peter stumbled back into Ned, very nearly knocking both of them to the ground. Photographers and media workers immediately flocked to the scene, knocking into the two teens as they jostled for space with Fisk’s bodyguards, blocking Johnny from Peter’s view. Alarm flooded the young hero’s veins. 

“Fisk,” Peter breathed. “I—I have to stop him. He’s going to hurt—”

Ned yanked him backwards with a hand around his bicep. “Peter, we can’t,” he whispered fearfully. “Come on—we have to go.”

Peter turned on his friend in disbelief. “We can’t just leave him!” he hissed. “What if Fisk attacks him for all those things he said? I have to be here to help!”

“Fisk won’t attack him in broad daylight,” Ned insisted. “Not with all these fans around. He’s a politician. Besides—if he tries anything, the Fantastic Four will wipe the floor with that loser. You’d be risking exposing your secret identity for nothing.” He gave his arm another sharp tug. “Come on. We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“But—” Peter protested, eyes whipping back to the mob of people and the barbaric murderer standing between him and Johnny. This wasn’t right. This was downright treacherous. Johnny had risked everything to protect him when he was in trouble. Peter had to be there to make sure he was safe. He’d reveal himself to the whole world if that meant keeping Johnny safe.

“All right, boys. Move along.” One of Johnny’s security guards marched towards them with a scowl, wafting at them with his hand like they were an unruly stench he was trying to get rid of. “You’ve had your turn. Either move to the back of the line, or beat it.”

Ned nodded fervently. “Got it. We’re going, Thank you, sir.” Ned gave Peter’s forearm another quick jerk, forcing him to lurch back a few treasonous steps. For half a second, his eyes found Johnny’s amidst the throng of people pressing around the young celebrity’s booth. They looked startled, confused, but not afraid. Sweat slipped down Peter’s shoulder blades and dampened the back of his T-shirt. 

You should be afraid, Flame Brain.  

“He’ll be okay,” Ned tried to reassure him, practically dragging his friend away from the queue. “Fisk won’t touch him. He’s not that stupid.”

“I have to be sure,” Peter answered hollowly. 

Even though the sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon, its piercing glow seared Peter’s flesh worse than it had all day.  

Johnny met Peter Parker’s gaze one last time before the boy disappeared behind a wall of bodies and cameras. For some reason, his soft brown eyes were charged with fear, the color in his cheeks draining to a pallid gray. He looked like he’d seen a ghost when Wilson Fisk and his posse rolled into their fundraiser as if they owned the place. 

Sweet guy. Cute, too. He’d always been a sucker for baby browns and curly hair. Too bad Johnny’s heart was solely preoccupied with arachnid-themed superheroes who may or may not be heterosexual. Despite Reed’s certainty on the matter, the verdict was still up for debate as far as he was concerned. 

He turned his attention back to the unnaturally large man towering over him like a skyscraper in a three piece suit. Cold, calculating eyes bored into his own. The smell of Mont Blanc cologne mixed with heavy perspiration assaulted his nose in the most unpleasant fashion. He had the air of an oversized baby parading around in designer brands, but with enough power to keep you from making jokes about it. 

Johnny had never spoken to Wilson Fisk before. He’d spotted him a few times attending the same galas and charity events as him—only because he was almost impossible to miss—but they had yet to meet face-to-face. He supposed neither of them had had a reason to until now. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Storm,” Fisk greeted him. He wore a smile that resembled a constipated sneer. “Fundraiser going well, I presume?”

Despite the climbing of his pulse, Johnny fixed his features into an expression of bland disinterest. “Sure is,” he replied, gesturing haphazardly to the thermometer-shaped donation log behind him. “This one’s on track to be our best one yet. There’s something about puppies and kittens in need that makes guilt-ridden rich folk unusually eager to open up their hearts and their wallets.” Johnny nodded towards Fisk’s guards, who had set up a perimeter between them and the impatient queue of fans, blocking anyone from stepping within a 30-door radius of their boss. “That’s why you’re here disrupting our entire event, right? ‘Cuz you’ve got a big check to cash for all those poor little animals?”

Wilson Fisk chuckled—a deep, guttural sound that rolled like thunder from his barrel-shaped chest, making Johnny’s skin crawl. “Of course,” Fisk assured him, patting the breast pocket of his silver suit jacket. “I wouldn’t dream of showing up to a function hosted by the Fantastic Four without my checkbook and pen handy. Your sister has truly mastered the art of monetizing your team’s image.” He flashed a barracuda grin. “For the poor little animals, of course.”

Sweat slipped between his skin-tight suit and the bend of his spine as Johnny ventured a glance in Susan’s direction. She was doing her best to stay focused on the fans at her booth, but the fear in her eyes was electric each time they flickered his way. 

“But first, I’d like to talk about some of the alarming comments you made about me recently.”

Johnny faced the man in front of him with a calm frown. “Saying those things was a mistake I assure you won’t happen again.” He wove his fingers together and placed them on top of the table. “I shouldn’t believe every flippant piece of gossip I hear that finds its way to me through the rumor mill. And I certainly shouldn’t tell others about anything I’ve heard until I have undeniable evidence supporting my claims.”

Fisk flared his nostrils at the teen's beguiling response. “I can assure you, Mr. Storm, that whatever insidious hearsay you’ve been told about me is entirely false. A full breakdown of my business operations and my personal history is available to the public on my website. I have nothing to hide.” The jagged creases in his forehead deepened. “I’m running for mayor of this city to combat crime and purge the corruption that plagues our political systems, and the last thing I need is a high-profile public figure such as yourself casting doubt on my credibility and defaming my name. The people of this city trust you, Mr. Storm. Your words hold power. It does not serve you well to use that power to spread lies.”

Johnny’s gaze hardened. “Like I said,” he told him firmly. “Won’t happen again.”

“I’m afraid I need you to do better than that." Fisk adjusted his tie, running his fingers along the ornate silk detailing. “You see, I’m the only mayoral candidate with a plan to work directly with superheroes such as yourself to reduce crime and make this city safer. I want the Fantastic Four to become an official part of the justice department so we can all band together to get bad guys off the streets. It’s to your benefit that I’m elected—and for that to happen, not only do I need you to stop tarnishing my name to your followers. I need your direct endorsement. You can get me the youth vote, and I can get you and your team all the funding and authorization needed to do what you do better than ever before. We can help each other, Mr. Storm. If I win, we all win.”

Johnny crossed his arms against his chest and tilted his chin slightly upward. “Not according to Spider-Man.”

The slippery smile on Fisk’s lips fell in an instant. Darkness twisted his features into an expression that turned Johnny’s guts to ice. 

“Ah,” Fisk growled. “Yes. Spider-Man.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket and dabbed at the beads of sweat speckled across his hairless head. “Tell me, Johnny—how long have you been acquainted with our friendly neighborhood menace?”

“Long enough to know he’s not a menace,” Johnny shot back. “And that both of us have plenty of reasons not to trust you.”

“And what reasons might those be?”

Johnny opened his mouth, then quickly shut it again, swallowing. If what Spidey suspected of Fisk was true, it might be dangerous for him to know how much Johnny knew about his illegal proclivities. When Johnny didn’t answer, Fisk grinned, laying his palms on the table between them and leaning in closer.

“Whatever it is he’s accused me of, why don’t you ask him to provide you some proof. Any proof. I guarantee he’ll have nothing but empty promises and blatant falsehoods to support his baseless claims.” He pressed further into Johnny’s personal space—so much so that he could feel the heat of his breath when he spoke. “Spider-Man is a depraved criminal, Mr. Storm. The kind that plays the part to earn your trust, then tears you down when you least expect it. I trusted him once too, you know—as I’m sure many others have. But it always leads to the same painful conclusion: his fear and envy of true power driving him to dismantle those in possession of it.”

Johnny pursed his lips, daring not to breathe, but refusing to back away from the unsightly face lurking uncomfortably nearer to his own. 

“You’re a clever boy, Johnny,” Fisk continued. “Strong, talented, and influential, as well. All things that Spider-Man loves to bleed dry from his victims. I’ve been able to evade his destructive path thus far, but I’d hate to see you befall the fate that has led this city to curse the arachnid’s name.” Fisk erected his spine and held out a massive hand for Johnny to take. “Join me, Mr. Storm. Together, we can rid New York of Spider-Man’s foul presence, and ensure that the Human Torch becomes the most powerful and beloved superhero this world ever sees.”

Johnny’s eyes lowered to the massive palm presented to him, then flicked back up to meet Fisk’s. It was an effort not to wrinkle his nose in revulsion as he willed his face into an unreadable wall. He cleared his throat, then stood from his chair, rising to be as close to eye-level with the man as all 5’11” of him could manage.

“First of all, I’m already the most powerful and beloved superhero. If there’s anyone here who's afraid of my power, it’s you.” Flames fizzled off his shoulders and danced down his forearms. “Second, Spider-Man is my friend—and a good fucking person. If you plan to hurt him, you’re going to have to go through me first. And trust me when I say that if things get to that point, winning an election will be the least of your concerns.”

The two of them stared each other down, a live wire running between their locked gazes. Fisk’s eyebrows knit together as his expression took a turn for the deadly. His outstretched hand cinched into a fist. 

“And trust me, young man,” he sneered, “when I say that I am not somebody you want to make your enemy. You think you’re the only person here with power and influence? I’m just as capable of lifting you up as I am of bringing you down.”

Unease simmered beneath Johnny’s skin. “Is that a threat?” he asked coldly.

“No,” Fisk replied, flashing a Cheshire Cat smile. “It’s a promise.”

Johnny held the beastly man’s glare, suppressing a shudder. He clenched his jaw, gradually diminishing the flames roiling across his body. 

Spider-Man was right about him.

Fisk’s hand suddenly slipped inside his suit jacket, making Johnny tense up reflexively. He grinned at the fear in the young hero’s eyes as he retrieved a thin piece of paper from a hidden inner pocket and held it out for Johnny Storm to take.

“Whatever your final earnings for the fundraiser are, match ‘em. Everything but the dollar amount is already filled in. That should suffice for my untimely intrusion and make all those misfortunate animals happy, yes?”

A wave of dread washed over Johnny as he reluctantly accepted the check from his bowling ball-sized fist. Something told him whatever donation amount they ended up cashing in from Fisk, it would clear instantly, and be bathed in blood. 

“I do hope you reconsider my offer,” Fisk added. “You and I share many passions and could accomplish great things together. Who one chooses to align oneself with can make or break his future.” He shook his head solemnly. “It’d be a shame to nail yours to the same crucifix Spider-Man has nailed his.” 

With that, Fisk rapped his knuckles against the table, signaled something to his army of guards, then turned and walked away. Johnny watched his boulder of a back shrink farther and farther into the distance and released a slow, shaky breath, grateful to be free of the man’s inky leer, but unable to shake the disquieting queasiness his presence had left him with. He took a long sip of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Well. I’m definitely not publishing that apology now.

“Johnny?” the next fan waiting to meet him called from an awkward distance away. She clutched a Human Torch Squishmallow close to her chest and offered a hesitant smile. “Can, um—can we come over now?” Her along with the rest of the patrons whose line stretched as far as the eye could see peered back at him impatiently, each of their turns with the celebrity hero well overdue.

“Yes—right—sorry. Of course.” Johnny scrubbed a hand through his hair and waved her forward, painting on his happiest, friendliest face. “Welcome, everyone. So sorry for the delay. Step right up, beautiful. Oh, wow—I love your shirt! Where’d you get it from?”

As Johnny chatted and signed stuff and collected donations from people, pushing down the paranoia Fisk had afflicted him with like poison, struggling to stay cheerful and energized for the sake of his fans, he swore he spotted a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. It vanished the moment he looked directly at it, evanescing into the branches of a large maple tree, but he could’ve sworn it was real. And something about that particular shade of red was unusually familiar to him. 

He supposed it could’ve been a bird, a kite, some trick of the imagination. He didn’t have time to dwell on it anyhow. He had fans to entertain and a fundraiser to run. If Fisk wanted to flaunt his excessive liquidity about, Johnny was determined to squeeze every last penny he could get out of him. 

[leejenowrld]

Sooo my question for jeno and y/n aka THE CUTEST AND HOTTEST AND BEST POWER COUPLE EVER 🤚💕 ( I love them too much for my own good I swear-)

Jeno pookie bear 💐

♡ What were your first thoughts of y/n?

♡ would you get y/n a huge own personal library in your future house *caugh caugh villa* ( that you are working on, don't worry I won't tell y/n 🤫) ? Like the one in beauty and the beast with sliding stairs and all?

♡ What if y/n wanted like 5 tortoises, 3 guinea pigs, 2 bunnies, 1 dog and 4 cats? And gave them silly little names like Popcorn, Fluffy, Cookie, Floof, Snuggles, Bowie, Pinkie

♡ Going book shopping with y/n? Holding her lovingly from behind and kissing her temple from time to time, picking up every.single.book. y/n shows interest in and obv buying her books. Leaving the bookstore with like 20+ books

For both of my cuties 🌸

Who fell first? Who fell harder?

Who is the bigger simp/ more down bad / more whipped

The first thing that comes to mind when thinking of each other?

Everyone says that y/n is the clingy one but I swear on my pinky that it's actually Jeno ✊

I kinda escalated slightly... ooosie doopsie 🤭

MWUAH MHUAW 💋💋

~ 🧸

i love these questions 🥹🥹🥹also i love how much you know about jeno and yn like wow. i love you for this. you really have done your research and paid attention baby!!

jeno - do you want me to be honest? i thought she was really fucking pretty. i remember getting hard. i was a bit hungover in that meeting we had with the professor so idk if i thought she was pretty in a sexual way or a cute way, probably both. (probably sexually, why do i remember getting high) as my girl, i currently think she’s pretty sexy and pretty cute yk. i also remember finding her laugh and smile so fucking cute. i remember being attracted to her and thinking what the fuck? what is happening to me? at that time i was adamant that i wouldn’t fall in love, not now atleast. i was confused but it didn’t take long before i just gave in and trusted my feelings (and my baby) and just let myself fall in love with her.

jeno - you better not tell her about it or else 🔪🔪yeah i’m being serious. i told the girls and those dumbasses nearly spilled. anyways. that’s a really good idea? she has two rooms just for her in the house, one of them is a massive libary room and i’ve already filled it with all my love’s favourite books and books for her to read but holy shit… the staircase idea is really good? definitely gonna think about it because i know she’ll love it and i’m only doing this to make her happy because she’s the loml

jeno - at first i’d just shout at her i’m not gonna lie. and i’m not gonna feel guilty because it literally turns her on when i yell at her. anyways i’d be mad because i know her, i know that she’ll make me take care of them. i know her. but she has me wrapped around her little finger so let’s be real, i’ll probably become the father and co owner of 6 fucking animals

jeno - love taking my sweetheart to her favourite places. as much as i love our more adventurous dates with end up with her riding my cock in public or just full on all over me, i love taking her to libraries and book shops. she gets so excited and so cute and so clingy. whenever i tell her i’m treating her and taking her to the bookstore you should see the way her face lights up, so fucking beautiful. she always dresses so pretty and it kills me. mmmh yeah ur right, she’ll be looking at the books and i’ll be holding her lovingly from behind, back hugs, kisses to her neck, whispering to her how in love i am. i kiss her all over. and yes, more times than none she’s left with 20+ books and i’ll do it for her time and time again. my baby deserves the world

yn - i’d say we’re the case in which we both fell for each other around the same time and we both fell harder. it was beautiful. our hearts became one.

jeno - as soon as i enter the door she has her lips around my cock so i’d say it’s her. needy baby always needs my eyes on her 24/7, idk what she’d do without my attention

yn - jen is delusional! it’s him. he’s my biggest hype man, i’ll show him what i’m wearing and send photos and he’ll hype me up and make me feel as sexy as my girls do. but like he’s my man so imagine how hot and sexy he can be. also he’s always all over me, i don’t need to be doing anything, i can just be standing there, literally breathing in the air and suddenly his cock is out and it’s hard and he’s moaning and he’s taking my clothes off and then he’ll have me there on the floor or just standing up 🙈

jeno - it’s just clouds and angels. i see my future and who i want to be the mother of my children. i see the woman i want to love forever and grow old with until we die

yn - how mature he is, emotionally and physically. it’s sexy. and how he makes me laugh and how i can always go to him for anything. the support and love i receive it’s just… wow. i know and appreciate how lucky and cherished i am, always and forever

yn - thank you!!!

jeno - she’s the clingy one and all our friends think it

[brook1yn-baby]

home

kenjorine band au oneshot <3

characters; kenny mccormick x marjorine stotch

warnings; tooth-rotting fluff teehee

a/n; short lil oneshot bcos i love these silly little guys!!

the brick wall of the alleyway is cold and damp as marj leans her head against it, finger twirled around the cord of a decrepit payphone. she’s lucky it still works, she thinks, before her thoughts are drowned out by the dial tone she’d come to know and love.

crimson dawn’s tour had been a success thus far; 14 sold out shows, with 1 more to go. stan, jimmy, marj and bebe had spent countless nights exploring the cities they’d only be in for a day or so, before they’d be back on the bus, travelling to the next to do it all over again. it was incredible, and she’d seen more of america than she thought she’d ever see in her life in just the space of two weeks. the band had been a silly pastime for her a year ago. an escape from her parents and their sheltered household. now, playing to crowds of thousands of fans every night, she’s sure nothing can feel as perfect as this.

well, except, maybe..

“marj.”

his voice is quiet, and she almost doesn’t hear it over the sound of the bustling nighttime streets of phoenix. she holds in a squeal of happiness. “hiya, ken!”

she can hear him chuckle from the other side of the phone, then sigh. it’s not a frustrated sigh, or a fed-up sigh- those, she was used to hearing, especially from her parents. this was a sigh of comfort, like a weight’s been lifted from kenny’s shoulders.

he’d never been a religious man, though his family were. promises of eternal happiness and a loving god with a ‘plan’ seemed so far from reality. but, after every show, when the phone rings and he hears her sweet, sweet voice, he could fall to his knees and pray, thank whatever divine being brought her to him.

“how was the show?” it’s a simple question, and he asks it every night without fail. he makes sure she’s okay after the bad ones, and congratulates her after the good ones, and always, always tells her how proud he is of her. kenny had left crimson dawn to work with his brother at the auto shop, hoping to save up some money to put karen through college further down the line. marjorine was still butters back then. music wasn’t kenny’s biggest passion anyway. that spot was saved for his sister and now, also, marj. the only people in the world he’d die a hundred times over for.

“so much fun. our next one’s gonna be the best we’ve ever done, though. pinky promise.” she giggles into the receiver. stan had made sure that south park was their last stop on the tour, meaning tomorrow she’d be home. maybe not her actual house; she’d been living in bebe’s spare room since she told her parents she didn’t wanna go to college. no, home. with kenny. she swears she can hear his grin through the phone.

“do i get a backstage pass? yknow, since i’m a groupie.” she laughs and it’s loud and real and it feels so good to be joking around, to forget about how difficult it is being away from him. “aw ken, of course you do! i wouldn’t exactly call you a groupie, though,”

“my girlfriend is a fuckin’ gorgeous, talented rockstar. i wear the word groupie like a badge of honour, babe.”

marj looks out to the street as she hears the backstage door open, watching jimmy lean against the handrail of the stairs while stan and bebe use his crutches as swords, doubling over, laughing their asses off. they’re all red in the face, still sweating from the show, but they’re having the time of their lives, and so is she. admiring the people she’s been through her worst and best times with as they act like completely loveable idiots. it’s bittersweet; she wishes kenny was there to watch too.

she’s silent for a moment, listening to his soft, rhythmic breathing, dulled slightly by the static of the old phone. “geez, ken, i miss you,” it comes out cracked and quiet, and she doesn’t even realise there’s a tear rolling down her cheek until it brushes her lip. she wipes it away, pretending it’s his hand instead of her own. “one more night, babe. then i’m all yours.” marj lets out a sniffly laugh, even though she knows his words aren’t true. it didn’t matter whether she was in his arms, or in the depths of hell; wherever they ended up, he’d always be all hers.

[anapotatowriter]

Meet - cute

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: While I am working on some of my requests for Edmund Pevensie, here is a Five Hargreeves fanfiction! Feel free to request for him, or any other TUA character. Also, this is definitely because I can’t wait to see Five in Season 3 :)

Summary: Y/N is a shy book worm. But where her best friends, the Hargreeves, and her best friend (and crush) are threatened, she doesn’t seem so sweet.

Contains: Swearing, some spoilers for books, horrible knowledge of the years where these kids were still teenagers, Ben doesn’t die and Five doesn’t time travel to the apocalypse, lots of events take place in the past (written in italics), horrible story that I have a hate-love relationship with :)

ALSO, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3

Requested: All of my own bestie!

Tagging @art-junkie-13, cause she was the first person I talked to about the story :)

"Y/N! Can you please buy some pasta sauce! We need it for dinner tonight," yelled my mother from her room. "Yes, mum," I yelled back, going to her room and taking the money she held out to me. I picked up a light sweater to protect myself against the spring breeze. I also picked up the play I had recently started reading. I strolled down the street, giggling softly at the swirling leaves and flowers in the wind, before turning down to my book, my tied-up hair keeping the small strands out of my face. Just as Romeo met Juliet at the masked ball, a boy crashed into me, sending me, sprawling backward. The book went flying from my hand, though the money remained tightly within my grasp. My now free hand went back to catch my fall, forcing my wrist to bend back. I yelped softly in pain, cradling my left hand as tears welled in my eyes. "Shit," I hear a voice mumble before someone knelt next to me. "Are you okay?" he asked, his black hair falling into his piercing green eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I squeaked out, not wanting to bother him. "I am so sorry, you can go on, it was my fault anyway," I mumbled, trying to stand up despite the pain in my wrist. "Nonsense, I crashed into you, the least I could do is help you out," he said, helping me stand up before fetching my book. "Romeo and Juliet, huh? I never understood the big deal about them," he said, smirking at me after he glanced at the book cover. "Really? I have read all of Shakespeare, and this one was my favorite. First, because crashing into each other is the best meet-cute ever. Second, I guess it helps me understand that love is dangerous. It's not sane or straight. Love can be twisted, malicious, insane, unreasonable, and painful. But that's what makes it worth it," I said, going off on a rant before trailing off when I noticed the perplexed expression on his face. "I'm sorry, you probably don't care," I muttered, pushing a strand of hair that had escaped my hair tie behind my ear. "Oh no, I just found your perspective interesting. I never did look at it that way. Just looked at it like teenagers who just killed like, 6 people. And that way, technically we had a meet-cute, huh?" he smirked, making me glance at my shoes in embarrassment. "Anyway, I'll help you home," he said, making me protest. "Don't you have to go home?" I questioned, making him rub the back of his neck. Just as he opened his mouth to explain, I interrupted him. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, this is me,” I mumbled. “My house number is 109… come visit if you get the time, you’re nice,” I continued, and he smiled a little. “Pinky promise,” I said, sticking my pinky finger out to him. He stared at my finger before hesitatingly wrapping his pinky around mine. “Bye,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking back down where we came. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I called after him, as I looked at his retreating figure. “Nice to meet you, Y/ N,” he called out, not bothering to turn around, just raising his hand as he walked away.

I sat on my bed, reading Pride and Prejudice, the flashlight the only form of illumination in the otherwise dark bedroom. My hair was tied up and piled on top of my head in a bun, to keep the hair out of my face as I leaned over my book. Suddenly, I heard a loud whoosh and a blue spark illuminated the corner of my room. I jumped and held my flashlight in between both my hands, staring at the corner of my room. “Ow,” a voice groaned, and I threw my flashlight while yelling, “STRANGER DANGER, STRANGER DANGER!” “Ow, what the fuck Y/N,” said the voice, making me squint in the darkness, the flashlight now off from the collision with the stranger. “Oh, it’s you! The kid I met on the street? How did you end up here?” I asked, staring at him warily. “I’m Five Hargreeves,” he said, smacking my flashlight against his palm to try to get it to start up again. I groaned and switched the bedroom lights, squinting immediately at the sudden influx of light. “How does that explain anything?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “I’m one of the kids born with superpowers? On the news?” he said questioningly, surprised. “Wait, you’re one of those Umbrella Academy kids? You’re the teleportation kid?” I asked, making him nod. “Sorry, I don’t know much about you guys. I don’t watch the news a lot, it’s so sad. I prefer fiction,” I shrugged, and Five nodded in understanding. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? I make a really good black coffee,” I offered. “Black coffee would be good,” he nodded, no expression on his face throughout the conversation. “Okay, “ I smiled and left my room to start the coffee pot, him trailing after me.

“Hey Y/N,” said Five’s voice, making me look up from my battered copy of “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”. “Oh, hey Five,” I said, wiping the tears on my cheeks and sniffling. “Wait, are you crying?” he asked, showing one of his rare emotions, concern. “Yeah, the ending of the book is really sad,” I said sadly, caressing the pages of the book as tears continued to fall. “Tell me about school,” he said, sitting on the bed, successfully distracting me from the book. Butterflies flapped in my stomach at our proximity, a lovesick smile probably gracing my features. Five always liked to talk about school, since he could understand what he was missing because of the Umbrella Academy. “Well, we did acemtodes in Maths today,” I said, immediately jumping into his favorite subjects. “I swear, 10th grade is horrible,” I groaned by the end, falling back on my pillows, the book slipping away from both my lap and thoughts. “I’m turning 15 tomorrow,” he mentioned as he lay down next to me while staring at the ceiling. “Wait, what?” I asked, immediately sitting up. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at my shocked face. “And you didn’t tell me! I don’t know what to get you,” I gasped dramatically, throwing a pillow at him. “Well, you can come over to the Academy. Dad typically leaves the house to us on our birthday, so we can do whatever we want,” he said, making me smile at the invitation. “I would love to! Now I gotta go plan 7 birthday gifts,” I explained happily, squeezing his hand for a second before running out of my room, leaving the boy to stare at the ceiling of my room.

“Hi, my name is Y/N!” I said, smiling at the six people around me, Five standing next to me. “I already know all of you, so need to introduce yourselves,” I said, instead of bringing out my large bag. “So Five only told me about y’alls birthday yesterday, so the presents aren’t that great, but whatever!” I said, holding up the gift-wrapped presents. “Luther right?” I asked, and the blonde nodded, and I handed him his gift wrapped in moon-themed wrapping paper. “And Diego, I am guessing?” I asked, turning to the brunette, and the boy replied, “Yes, that’s me.” I handed him his present, and he took it, his eyes glassing over. “And Viktor, this is for you,” I said, handing him the heavy box. He smiled softly as I handed him the box, making me smile back. “Ben?” I questioned another boy, and the boy nodded in agreement. He accepted the wrapped present I gave him with a starstruck expression. “Allison,” I said, handing the package to the grinning girl before turning to Klaus. “And Klaus. Believe me, I had no clue what to get you, but I hope you like this!” I said, handing him the box. “I spent about the same amount on all the gifts, so yeah!” I said, turning to all of them to see they were all standing where I had left them. “I’m sorry if I messed up, I can return the gifts,” I said softly, cocking my head to the side a bit when I noticed the still wrapped packages. “Thank you,” said Ben, his voice cracking, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I mean, it’s not much,” I said apologetically, shrugging a bit. “Thank you so much,” said Viktor sincerely, placing his hand on my shoulder. “This is our first time getting gifts,” said Klaus, making me gasp. “First?” I asked, making all the kids nod in unison. “Ok, then it’s settled. I am officially on gift-giving duty. Five, you better deliver their presents. Christmas, birthdays, new years, accomplishments, all of it,” I said decidedly. “Well go on, open them,” I motioned to the siblings, who all started opening their presents, smiling giddily. “And Five,” I hummed, making him turn to me from his siblings. “It’s a fountain pen, I got ‘Technically we had a meet-cute, huh?” engraved in a rush order, so this is probably more expensive than the other’s gifts,” I said, handing him the final package. “Thank you… so much,” he said, and I smiled. He intertwined his pinky with mine, a reminisce of our first meeting.

"Come on, hurry up while it's still daytime, idiots," yelled Five from ahead of us, enunciating idiots. "Well... it's not fair... if we have to walk... while you just teleport," said Diego angrily while climbing up the enormous hill, the rest of us huffing and puffing behind him. Five didn't reply and just stopped moving, waiting for the rest of us to catch up. No one missed his annoyed expression by the time we all reached up. "If you tell us to hurry up one more time, I will turn you into a hat," said Luther just as Five went to speak, making Five roll his eyes and close his mouth again. "Finally, we can play," said Allison, sighing as she admired the grassy and flat field where we were going to play cricket. "You good, Y/N?" asked Five, moving closer to me. "Yeah, just tired," I said, dabbing at the sweat on my forehead. "You are a right meanie for not just teleporting with the rest of us," I said, crossing my arms. "Sorry, I just didn't wanna scatter all of you into some other universe where we end up being TV show characters," he said, shrugging while winking at the computer screen. "Let's play!" said Diego, cracking his knuckles. 

"I'm referee," said Luther, moving to the side. “And I am going to the market downtown. There’s a new book I found that I want to read,” shrugged Ben. “Oh, come on, Ben! It’s all of your birthdays! 16th! You can’t just leave family time!” I complained, making the boy sigh resignedly. “Fine, I’ll come back in 30 minutes, tops,” he promised, making me smile and nod. He walked away to the nearby market, his black jacket standing out in the otherwise bright field. "Y/N and Allison, you both are the captains," said Luther. "Oh, okay," I breathed, moving forward and looking at the rest of the academy. "Y/N, you can go ahead a pick first," said Allison, smiling at me kindly. "Five," I said immediately, and he grinned proudly before walking toward me. "Diego," said Allison, who walked towards her with a self-satisfied smirk and looked pointedly at Five, a competitive glint in his eyes. "Viktor," I whispered next, and he walked towards us as Klaus walked towards Allison and Diego. "Five minutes to plan, and then we'll have the coin toss," announced Luther, and both teams huddled up. "Diego is going to be the most aggressive. Allison is too nice to go full attack especially cause you and Viktor are too shy and nice, and Klaus is probably too high to care about the game,” said Five immediately, starting his “battle strategy”. “Or, or, or… how about we just play for fun?” I interrupted as his comments about his other sibling started getting most vengeful. “What’s the point in that Y/N?” protested Five. “Fine,” I sighed apprehensively, making him smile triumphantly and resume the plan.

“Let’s start,” bellowed Luther, making me walk towards Luther, Allison walking from the other side. The wicket was already set up, the bats held up by Luther.  Luther tossed the coin and said, “Allison, your team bats.” Before going to her team, she cheered a little, while I walked toward Five and Viktor. “Ugh, we’re bowling,” I groaned, Viktor giving me a side hug comfortingly. “We’ll do amazing, don’t worry,” said Five confidently, making me shrug. “Pinky promise,” he said, holding out his pinky. I giggled softly, intertwining my pinky with his. “Okay Five, go bowl,” I laughed, shoving the boy slightly. He chuckled as he walked backward, giving a salute before turning around. “You know, he is only like that with you,” said Viktor, making me turn away from Five’s retreating figure. “What?” I asked, confused. “He smiles more with you, he’s less touch averse. It’s nice,” he said, smiling at me. “Come on, hurry up Y/N!” yelled Diego, anxious to begin the game. “Coming, coming,” I called, running up to the meadow, prepared for the fielding. 

“Oh come on, stop running so fast,” I said exasperatedly as Diego and Allison got another run. Klaus was already out and lounging on the grass, out of range of the cricket ball. “Ben!” yelled Klaus when he noticed the boy coming back, holding a book in his hands. Ben reached us and sat down next to Klaus, opening his book. As the game continued, Five and Diego continued to get more competitive, which forced Luther to intervene, only fueling their frustration. I laughed at the story Klaus was recounting to us when the grin on my face faded. I squinted at the group of people I could see coming from the distance. 

“Ah, the great Umbrella Academy,” snickered the one in the middle once the group was within earshot. Suddenly, all the siblings seem to have grouped, competitive natures long forgotten. Five came over to me a grabbed my pinky, pulling me in with the rest of the Hargreeves and taking me near Viktor. “Five, what’s going on?” I asked as he walked away, but he didn’t reply. He placed himself on the other side of Diego, Luther on his right. In a row behind, Allison and Klaus stood on the outer edges of the group, with Ben in the middle. At the absolute last stood Viktor and me, a perplexed expression dawned on my face as the group came closer to us. “Viktor, what’s happening?” I asked, confused at the formation we stood in. “We typically stand like this when someone recognizes us in public, makes it easier to deal with fans and press,” murmured Viktor softly to not attract attention. The arrangement suddenly made sense, and I nodded in understanding. 

“Ha, I knew I recognized the nerd,” laughed the ‘leader’, making me frown as he looked at Ben, who was holding his book in his hands still. “Who are you calling a nerd,” snapped Diego, taking a step forward. “Lord, you all are no different from us. What’s so special about you bastards anyway?” asked the boy scanning over the group, glossing over me and Viktor in the back. “You seem to forget your place. We have fucking powers that help save the world, and we won’t hesitate to use it on you!” continued Diego, taking out a knife and twirling it in his hands. “Sorry to say this, but you can’t use your powers on us, idiot. We are civilians, and therefore if you harm us, we can go to the police and get your precious academy shut down,” cackled the leader manically, his four goons laughing with him. “You’ll be sorry when I shove my fist in your face,” barked Diego, walking forwards. “Diego, he’s right,” said Five calmly, although his jaw was set tightly and his eyes sparkled with silent anger. “Exactly, ‘Diego’. Listen to the half-wit,” chuckled the goon, walking over to Five, who stood his ground and raised his jaw a little higher. “What about you, scrawny bitch? Wanna fight?” mocked the guy, holding his fists up ironically. The anger that was building up snapped and I scoffed. “You’re a bully,” I said from the back, making the boy's head turn towards me. “Who the fuck said that?” he barked rhetorically, his goons cracking the knuckles. “It was me,” I said, walking forwards. “Excuse me Allison, Ben,” I said, walking between the two. “I’ll be fine, Ben,” I said to the concerned boy, smiling softly. His eyes still held fear as I continued forwards. “Five, Diego,” I said, sliding between the two when I felt someone stop me. Five held my hand, silently pleading with me to not go. “I’ll be fine,” I smiled at him, gently releasing his hold over my hand, instantly missing their presence. “Now, as I was saying, you’re a bully. My dad taught me that there was only one way to communicate with a bully,” I said confidently as I sauntered forward, pulling the hair tie out of my hair and snapping it around my wrist. My hair billowed open from the wind, H/C strands surrounding my face. 

“Oh really? And what was his advice?” asked the goon, smiling mockingly at me. I smiled sweetly, chuckled, and brought my fist back, punching him in the face. Gasps erupted from behind me as the goon touched the side of his face where I had hit him. “You fucking slut,” he growled, putting his hand up at his friends, who tried to come to his aid. I clicked my tongue and said, “Oo,” I wouldn’t call me that,” I said, glaring up at him. He brought his hand up to slap me, and I heard Five take one step forwards to try and help me. “Fuck no,” I growled, grabbing the bully’s hand mid-air and twisting it behind his back, making him groan in pain as he faced the rest of the academy, me standing right behind him facing them too. “I’m a nasty bitch darling, believe me,” I said in his ear, loud enough for the people around us to hear as well. “Now why don’t you go on and apologize,” I said, hissing the last word. “Fuck no,” he protested, making me roll my eyes. “You seem familiar, do you study in Y/S (Your School)?” I asked, and the boy nodded minutely, gritting his teeth in pain. “Ah, great! So you must know who I am! Go on, darling, take a wild guess,” I said to him, twisting his arm further to make him hiss in pain. His friends just stood, not knowing what to do. “Shit, are you… are you Y/N? Y/N L/N?” he asked, fear creeping into his voice. “Yes, correct! Jackpot, darling, ding ding ding,” I said, twisting his arm more and more with the last three words as I grit my teeth. “Now, since my reputation seems to precede me, it’s safe to assume that you know I can ruin your life brick by brick, you fucking mangy cur,” I growled. “So, if you know what’s good for you, you fucking apologize,” I finished, kicking him in the shin and making him yelp. “Okay, alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he yelled, making me smile sweetly again. “See that wasn’t so hard,” I said, pushing the boy so that he was near his crew again. “If I see you bothering anyone ever again, inside or outside school, I will torture you until you wish you were dead,” I said, pushing the boy backward. “Now, bitch, why don’t you fucking leave,” I said as the boy slowly backtracked. “SCRAM!” I yelled, making him run away. “You’re fucking crazy,” said one of the others to me, his eyes wide in fear. “Yes I am, sugar. Suck my dick,” I said while flipping him off with both hands, making his eyes widen more as he ran after his leader and the rest of his friends. “FUCKING SHITS! MOTHERFUCKERS! REMEMBER MY WARNING OR YOU WILL REGRET IT!” I yelled, making them scamper away out of sight.

As soon as their figures disappeared, I turned back to the group with a real smile, clapping my hands together. “Shall we continue the game?” I asked, while the rest of the Academy just stood frozen. “... are you okay?” I asked while bringing my hands up to tie my hair again. Everyone surged forward and question me before their conversation sparked up, but Five still stood frozen. “Five?” I questioned softly, walking towards him as the rest of the siblings talked to each other. “Don’t ever do that again,” said Five as he pulled me in a hug, making me freeze in shock. “I was so fucking scared,” he said as he pulled me away and held me by the sides of my arms. “Oh please, I have beat up people much scarier than him,” I said, smiling at him. “You’re an enigma, Y/N,” he said before doing something I never thought he would do. He kissed me, and I kissed him back, my heart bursting in happiness. We split apart, a haze filling my mind when I heard wolf whistles. “Oh shut up,” I muttered, embarrassed, as the other Hargreeves goggled at us, while Five intertwined our pinkie easily. “You’re hot when you swear. And with your hair open,” he whispered in my ear, making me giggle, enjoying the contact between us. “Thank god for our meet-cute,” I thought to myself, smiling at the group around me and the brunettee I stood next to.

[beann-e]

Haikyu! boys reacting to their s/o flinching during an argument

Karasuno boys reacting to their s/o flinching

Tsukishima

“ what’s the problem are you serious are you not even understanding why we’re here in the first place“

“ oh I understand—really but I just don’t care “ he moved to think before speaking

“ I actually don’t think i’ve ever had one of those cares when I hear you talk “

you fumed “ i’m so so sick of this Tsukishima i’m so sick of everything having sarcasm in it —you can’t be serious for two seconds “

he moved to throw up a peace sign before his fingers dropped one by one “ is that two seconds — i’m not sure if you meant literally because according to you I look like a grade school swim team member who doesn’t know basic communication skills”

you felt your throat beginning to hurt you’d been screaming with him for hours over his comments he’d made about the cake you ate earlier

as soon as you sat down on the couch he spoke telling you

‘ babe maybe you should’ve saved that cake for later I can feel the extra weight weighing down mine and your side of the couch ‘

“ I can’t be serious no you can’t be serious — you fucking told me that your sorry i’m so skinny that my legs look like toothpicks in the shorts that you bought me “ he screamed

“ you bought them on purpose they were a size large you know i’m a size small you just wanted to be fucking funny “

you scoffed as you two were now standing in the kitchen while he was cooking dinner. His body turning to look down on you.

you could never say tsukishima got mad at you he never did he would just get really annoyed and make more sarcastic comments then he did in his free time but right now you couldn’t figure out what was so different about him

About his voice

About his body that was making him seem like the boss at the end of a video game you just couldn’t beat

“ i’m just really tired of everything being turned into a slick comment with you tsukki and then you can’t even say a shitty sorry you just look at me like i’m crazy “

he sighed as he looked away “ look baby— “ he pushed up his glasses that were threatening to fall

“ i’m really sorry for all the mean , awful , accurate , things I said “

your body went hot as you screamed “ THATS NOT A FUCKING SORRY “

“ well why the hell would you think you’d get one from me “

he screamed at you backing you up eyes still downcast on you

“ you —annoying —child —every fucking five seconds your complaining about something now it’s how I talk ? before it was how I don’t show you enough physical affection in public are you serious “

you heart quickened as his body jerked at you almost threatening you “ what else do you want from me huh “

“ want me to fuckin—“

you closed your eyes and your body moved on instinct to cover your face body sinking into itself in a hole before standing up trying to protect yourself as the loud clack went through the house

Your breathing fast as you had all the worse possibilities move through your head that was rattling along with your body in fear

“ aw damn — their cracked anyways we gotta figu—“

his voice stopped as he came face to face with your covered body “ a-are you dancing or something why the fuck are you —“

then his thoughts clicked as his blurry eyes ran over the way your arms were above your head and body tucked in as if trying to limit the pain you would feel wherever he touched you

“uh “ he coughed as you relaxed looking at the male with wide eyes as you spoke

“ no I didn’t —I didn’t think “

“ um — so i’m not gonna take offense and instead i’m just gonna “

he moved to sit his glasses on the table before his hand grabbed your head forcefully and pushed you into his stone cold chest your body flaring up and shaking

“ yeah you totally did —I wasn’t sure because I can’t see but yeah you did “

“ I - — I didn’t mean to —it was just so loud I thought — and you were yelling “

“ I would never hit you — I would never ever hit you with anything except my beautiful words “

you pushed out of his chest with a small smile trying to seem upset “ your still joking after something like that “

“ well i’m not a soft person what do you expect I mean I feel bad really bad but — “

“ I know I know — it’s better to make jokes than make it sad and make the both of us feel uncomfortable “

he moved his head down to kiss you softly “ I promise you it was just my glasses falling I would never hurt you y/n no matter if we fight or not “

he scoffed “ I love you and all that other crap blah blah “

you ran away with your hands to your ears “ no no I feel like you just put a curse on me — you’ve hugged me , kissed me , apologized and told me you love me all at one time I have to call yams and get an exorcist over here “

he scoffed “ just call Hinata his non stop talking could pass as an exorcism “

you smiled as he whispered small apologies in your ear all night the both of cringing when he would say them knowing he hated you feeling that way but also hating how the word sorry rolled off his tounge

Hinata

“ Great king that Great King this — I must beat The king — I have to beat this person and that person your always beating someone Hinata “

you cried as you stood fighting with him in the gym as he had sweat running down his forehead

you’d originally came here to watch him play a game between a team he had yet to beat that he told you they’d practiced for months to win.

Only for them to lose In a straight set of 2 that caused him to stay after and continue to practice in the same spot all night

You being the loving s/o you were decided to stay with him

only for him to take your kindness for granted and practice at the gym until 3 in the morning letting you wake up to the constant thump of the ball against the wall and your body shivering on the bench while he wore his jacket

“ DID YOU EVEN NOTICE I FELL ASLEEP “

“ of course I did “

“ then why didn’t you give me your jacket —babe I woke up freezing “

“ because I wanted it too— if I gave you my jacket what would I wear was I suppose to freeze “

you knew all rationality was thrown out the window when Hinata lost a match and right now that’s exactly what was happening

“ you can’t keep expecting me to put you first — it’s stupid “

he raised his voice “ the only thing i’ll put first is this ball in my hands and you may come in third to my team other than that — I don’t know what you want from me “

“ I want you to understand i’m here too —not just that lifeless ball Hinata “

he screeched at your words “ it’s not fucking lifeless”

“ I worked hard for this I worked hard for everything when I pick up that ball I put my energy into it when I —“

his hand outstretched as you sunk to the floor ears covered as you ducked into your knees hearing the loud smack moved to every corner of the room

“ that’s me putting life into the bal—baby where’d you go—if this is you telling me to stop—ok I get it I need to calm down “

he looked around the gym eyes finally searching the floor for the ball he’d thrown until they landed on your huddled figure

“ babe what —why are you on the floor come on its dirty get off “ you shook at his voice

“ w—why are you so scared I don’t understand come on stand up y/n “

you tried to calm down your body knowing you couldn’t tell him what just happened you knew Hinata wasnt innocent but you still didn’t want to break his heart not tonight not more than it already was argument or not

you moved to stand up as he grabbed the ball and threw it harshly to the wall for a second time

your body reacting out of control as it thought back to that moment of fear you had seeing him that angry at you and the same noise that followed after

“ y/n-chan did you just—“ his eyes creased “ baby why did you “

he said quietly thinking “ baby who hurt you “

his voice was concerned as he raced to you who shook a bit at his changing emotions taking a shaky step back to get away from him his eyes falling as he finally realized softly speaking

“ o-oh I hurt you “

he sat thinking as he pulled your arms from your face slowly “ I—i’m so sorry I don’t —it was the ball really it was the ball it went woosh and so I went weee to go get it I swear “

you straightened up cursing your body for reacting the way it did “ I didn’t mean to scare you that way I just —I was upset over a match and wanted to prove a point “

he moved to hug you tightly “ I’m so greatful for you and so lucky to have someone who would even stay with me for over 7 hours in a gym hearing nothing but loud noises and echoes —someone who’d fall asleep on the cold floor because they love me so much “

he hugged you tighter kissing your head repeatedly whispering the same line over and over “ i’d never hit you —i’d never hate you or be mad at you “

your tense nerves leaving as you sighed out wrapping your arms around his body “ I —I know and i’m sorry “

“ nothing to be sorry for I do need to put you first and I will from now on —I will “

he pulled you back as he spoke “ i’ll start putting you first and taking your needs into account and you start speaking up and saying no to me instead of doing everything I do or want you to do “

he smiled as he held his pinkie out “ promise baby? “

you shook your head in a yes smiling up at him “ promise “

[gojo-x-reader]

Red String of Fate

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Warnings: slight swearing, slight manga spoilers

Tags: Soulmate AU

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~2.3k

Request:  “Hello I'm actually not sure if I'm supposed to put put my request here? well, if its not supposed to be here, then please ignore it. Anyways, can I ask of you to share your thoughts on Soulmate AU w/ Gojo around 12 to 16 yrs old where he can see signs of who's soulmate is whos meeting his possible fiance who turns out to be his soulmate (I asked that age bc first meeting! he's from a noble clan and its really weird he doesn't have fiance or something) Sorry if its confusing and Thank you!”

Gojo Satoru was twelve years old when his Six Eyes began showing him the red strings of fate. Every person’s string was different. Some of them stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, almost seemingly never reaching the other end. Others were shorter, connected to the person they stood next to (whether they knew of their existence or not). And unfortunately, on some, Satoru could see the end of the string, but it dragged behind someone, unconnected to another human.

Satoru had told his mother about the strings as they appeared. Those are strings that lead one to their soulmate, she had explained to him. Everyone has a soulmate, but not everyone is in love with theirs. There are different kinds of love in this world.

Satoru’s parents were soulmates, but they did not love each other; that much was clear from how his father treated his mother. He never hit her or anything, but he didn’t treat her like an equal; more of a vessel that gave birth to an heir. He only interacted with his wife when necessary, the two not even sleeping in the same room at night.

For that reason, Satoru was scared to meet his own soulmate. He had one, that much was clear by the bright red string tied around his left pinky that stretched on for kilometers. He didn’t want to end up like his parents.

Gojo Satoru was fourteen years old when his father announced that he would be marrying you, a girl from the Kamo clan. You were the youngest daughter in the secondary branch of the family, just a year younger than him. Tomorrow, the two of you would meet for the first time.

You were nervous about tomorrow, for several reasons. Number one, you had heard the rumors about Gojo Satoru--the first member of the Gojo clan to be born with the Six Eyes and  Limitless, the two inherited techniques of his clan, in a hundred years or so. That meant, in a nutshell, he was much stronger than you could ever hope to be, as someone who hadn’t even inherited the Kamo clan technique (which is why you were being shipped off to another clan). Number two, you had heard rumors of his personality, somehow both cold and carefree at the same time, but one hundred percent a horrible personality to be combined with your timid and quiet nature. And number three, you almost resented him because now you were stuck in an arranged marriage and you saw how well that worked out for your parents.

Tomorrow arrived, and the maids dressed you up in the finest of kimonos, hair ornaments, and even makeup. You weren’t particularly into girly interests, more interested in training for when you enter Kyoto High in a few years; the feeling of foundation and lipstick felt foreign on your face.

You arrived at the main hall, escorted by your uncle (the head of the Kamo family), your parents, and a few maids. You normally didn’t wear a kimono often, except for very special occasions, and you have never been in one for this long. Graceful, you were not, and tripped a few times because of the geta chosen for you to wear with the kimono. Each time, the maids were swift to grab ahold of your arms and stabilize you. They even helped you sit down as you awaited your future fiance and his parents.

Gojo Satoru’s parents arrived before he did. They apologized on behalf of their son, citing that he was on he was back from a mission. You were jealous, he wasn’t even in high school yet and was already being assigned missions. While you weren’t powerful in comparison to Gojo Satoru himself, you could still hold your own against your older cousins and had a decent amount of cursed energy.

Gojo Satoru’s parents seemed nice enough, but the chemistry between them resembled that of your own parents; they tolerated each other, but that was it--no love, no spark, nothing. You wondered if his parents were also put into an arranged marriage. You could sympathize, but you also secretly hoped that the two of you wouldn’t end up like your parents.

You poured tea for your future in-laws, hands shaking slightly, a few drops of tea spilling. As you sat the teapot down, in came Gojo Satoru himself, dressed in a simple black kimono, but the sash was not tied tightly. His hair was touseled, and stained with either dirt or blood (you hoped it was dirt). Despite his unkempt look, he was gorgeous, with bright white hair and eyes blue like the sky matching neither of his parents. Despite the color differences, he took mostly after his mother with her soft features.

When he made eye contact with you, he froze, looking down at his left hand, and then back to you. Before you could even greet him, he immediately fled the room, both his parents calling after him, leaving after him.

That was a bit painful; your first time meeting him and he leaves immediately seeing your face. You weren’t sure how your self-esteem would recover after that blow.

About twenty minutes later, Gojo Satoru’s parents came back, empty-handed without their son. He refused to meet you, but they promised he would come around eventually. So, your family said your goodbyes and left the Gojo estate.

Once your family arrived back at the Kamo estate, your uncle slapped you across the face, blaming you for what transpired with the Gojo family. It was your looks, your lack of femininity that obviously scared your fiance away. Not even makeup or the finest materials could fix it.

So what, if you weren’t “feminine”? Being “feminine” doesn’t exorcise curses, now does it?

You grumbled an apology, leaving to your room and locking the door behind you. You started crying, ruining the makeup that took the maids hours to do, but not even bothering to care. It took a while to get out of the kimono, but you changed into sweatpants and a large T-shirt and left the offensive material on the floor. Neither of your parents bothered to check in on you, but the head maid did. She cleaned up your makeup and brought you some of your comfort foods. She was more of a mother to you than your own, and you were always grateful for her in your life.

The next time you would meet Gojo Satoru, there would be hell to pay for embarrassing you like this.

Gojo Satoru was sixteen years old when he next met his fiancee, this time on the battlefield rather than mitigated by their families. Kyoto was short by one for the Kyoto Goodwill Event, so you were allowed to join as the sole first year. You were glad for the opportunity because that meant you could finally pay back Gojo Satoru for the embarrassment you felt two years ago.

You were told you had great potential as a jujutsu sorcerer, already being promoted to Semi-Grade 2 as you entered Kyoto High. Of course, you weren’t even close to your fiance who was promoted immediately to Special Grade upon entering Tokyo High. While the power difference between a Semi-Grade 2 and a Special Grade was immense, you weren’t going to let that stop you. You held a lot of pain in your heart for how Gojo Satoru rejected you from one glance, refusing to ever see you again that day.

This was Gojo Satoru’s first Goodwill Event, as last year he was only a first-year and the spots were full from the second and third years last year. Since last year, Kyoto had won, the event was held at your school. Not a single second or third year at Kyoto believed they even had a chance to win this year, as Tokyo has not one but two Special Grade students this year participating in the event. There was only one Grade 1 sorcerer on the Kyoto side, a third-year, while the others were a Grade 2 or Semi-Grade 2. The goal was to stick together; power in numbers. While the two monsters Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru could take out the entire Kyoto team singlehanded most likely, the others on the Tokyo team were rather weak, at only Grade 3.

So, the Kyoto side would stick together, avoid conflict. The goal was to exorcise curses, not necessarily fight each other.

The six of you stuck together, exorcising curse after curse. It was strange, as several minutes passed and you hadn’t even encountered one of the Grade 3 Tokyo sorcerers. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, then a voice behind you announcing, “Hello~”

You turned around quickly, barely able to avoid an attack. There he was, Gojo Satoru in the flesh. He was much, much taller than last time you saw him, now towering over you like a tree. On his (admittedly) handsome face was a smug grin, his bright baby blues peeking out behind round black shades. He held his hands in his pockets in a carefree manner. Almost not like he just attacked you and your senpai.

You glanced back briefly. While you were somehow lucky to avoid the attack from your fiance, your senpai behind you was not. The attack left them unconscious, back against a tree and blood running down their head.

While reading headfirst toward your fiance probably was not a good idea, only rage flowed through your head. You may not have inherited your clan’s cursed technique, you inherited a similar technique but more closely to your mother’s Zenin clan’s technique. You could manipulate shadows, not to summon shikigami, but rather to form weapons.

You summoned the shadows to form a sword, raising it to strike Gojo Satoru. But it reached just centimeters away from his body before stopping, almost like an invisible forced kept it in place, unable to move it further. You stared at your hand in surprise.

“Now, now, is that any way to greet your fiance?” Gojo Satoru asked, grin widening.

“Are you really though?” You asked, jumping back cautiously before he could ready another attack. “You didn’t even want to meet me two years ago.”

He placed his hand onto his chin in thought. “Hmm, I suppose that’s true. Tell you what, land a hit on me and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Bastard,” you called to him, switching your shadow weapon to a bow and arrow, pulling back the shadow string, and releasing it toward him.

Gojo Satoru held up two fingers as the arrow stopped in mid-air, much like your sword earlier. “I don’t think that’s my name, sweetie. Bad luck for you today. Seems like we’re just a bad match.”

You were frustrated. How the hell was he doing that?

A siren sounded out through the forest. The match was over; Tokyo won, only because Gojo Satoru had distracted the Kyoto group while Geto Suguru handled the stranglers and the remaining Grade 3 sorcerers were able to exorcise more curses than your side.

Gojo Satoru disappeared before your eyes, but you heard a whisper in your ear from him, “I’m feeling generous. An hour before the individual matches tomorrow, meet me in the garden. I’ll explain everything.”

So, that’s how you found yourself out in the garden at 8 am, shivering from the morning chill. The garden was huge, but somehow you figured your fiance would be able to find you.

“Yo,” he called out, startling you from your thoughts. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I don’t think highly of you,” you admitted. “You embarrassed me two years ago and my uncle thinks I’m a disgrace to the family now.”

“Yikes, that seems a little harsh. Not like I annulled the engagement or anything. I just was going through some good ole teenage angst then, nothing more.”

“Still going through some ‘teenage angst’?” you questioned.

“Oh, you know, just the normal amount. I died a few months ago and it reset me back to typical teenage angst levels.”

“You what? ”

“But that’s a whole different story. We’re talking about why I left two years ago after seeing you.” He brought a finger up to his lips. “This is top secret. Can’t tell anyone.”

You nodded.

“So, my Six Eyes. I’m sure you’ve heard all about them, being in the Kamo clan and all. It turns out I can also see the red string of fate that brings soulmates together. My parents are soulmates, but they have a shitty relationship.”

“Okay.” You could relate, your parents also have a shitty relationship.

“And they’re the only pair of soulmates I’ve ever known. So,” he grasped his left pinky in yours, “when I saw that red string of mine connect to yours, I panicked. Didn’t want to be forced into a relationship with my own soulmate and end up like my parents. Call me a sappy romantic, but I wanted to meet you and get to know each other on our own, not because we’re in an arranged marriage.”

You couldn’t help but blush. Here was Gojo Satoru, your fiance, one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the world, proclaiming that you were his soulmate. It seemed ridiculous, but you didn’t think he was lying. Suddenly, all the resentment for that time a few years ago left.

You took your pinky out of his, looking away from him in embarrassment, then stated, “There’s nothing that says we can’t do all that while still being engaged. Lets.” You took a deep breath, looking straight at those brilliant blue eyes past his sunglasses, then continued. “Let start over. Get to know each other the right way and see where this takes us.”

He grinned. It was the first time you saw him smile with pure happiness behind it. “I like that idea, soulmate.”

[dottores]

CRIES ITS OKAY IF YOU TAKE LONG TO RESPOND TO ME I KNOW I WRITE A LOT I'M TYNA SPOIL YOU AND ABSOLUTELY I WRITE THE SANZU FICS FOR YOU TO SELF SHIP SO <333

MORE SANZU HCs BECAUSE I LUV U MWAH MWAH but the childhood friends to lovers trope teehee

childhoodfriend!sanzu who might've fallen a little bit in love when you approach him when he's alone at the park and tell him how pretty he is, even while his scars are healing

childhoodfriend!sanzu who follows you around like a lost puppy after that, even transferring schools

childhoodfriend!sanzu who watches as you tell the people who gossip behind his back about how he looks to fuck off and that he's prettier than they'll ever be (he tears up a little and refuses to let go of your hand for the rest of the day and he decides then that you will be best friends forever)

bestfriend!sanzu who goes to the same middle school as you and watches as you grow, but also notices other boys watching you grow and hates when they leer at you behind your back, so he might pick a fight or two (also so you can fuss at his wounds later)

bestfriend!sanzu who gets his schedule changed to match yours, and is actually really smart so he catches up easily (the only reason he was in the regular classes was because he never tried but he'll try if it's for you)

bestfriend!sanzu who gets so irrationally angry when you agree to take another boy to the dance and doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day, but when he catches you crying about it he apologizes and bashfully admits that he wanted to go with you to which you admit that you wanted to go with him too

bestfriend!sanzu who becomes boyfriend!sanzu when you childishly declare that you're getting married and you'd never want anyone else anyways

boyfriend!sanzu who scares off any gross high school boys that think they can get near you by just standing menacingly behind you

boyfriend!sanzu who will sneak into your window in the middle of the night just to pout and whine about the fact that you didn't give him a goodbye kiss when he dropped you off at home earlier

boyfriend!sanzu who walks you to every class and will even leave his class early to get to yours before it ends to make sure he's on time for you (what teacher is dumb enough to think they can stop him???)

boyfriend!sanzu who proposes to you right after high school graduation, to which everyone says you're both insane but you wouldn't have it any other way <3

fiance!sanzu who waits until you're finished with schooling to properly marry you because he can wait forever and he wants you to prioritize your career first

fiance!sanzu who picks you up from work one day, but when you hear your co-workers gossip about the man in the expensive suit and maserati who's rumored to be in bonten, you decide that that job isn't for you anymore because who were they to judge? (when he asks later you just tell him that it wasn't the right fit and you have to pinky swear because he was about to go in and threaten some people)

fiance!sanzu who's more into wedding planning than you are, but realizes one day that all he wants is you, so he plans a small wedding with all of your important people and host it in your penthouse (this may or may not have been the first time bonten!mikey has ever been caught smiling and it's sure as hell going to be the last, but you're both just happy you got to witness it)

fiance!sanzu who tells you how pretty you are at the stand, which may sound insignificant to everyone else but you recall your first words to him and immediately burst into tears and he starts panicking

fiance!sanzu who promises that he will build you the life you want, no matter what the cost is

I love you sm and you deserve all the kithes and sanzu love <333

i’m so mentally and physically ill over this it’s not even funny, i was literally punching the bed on the verge of tears haruchiyo just following me around like a lost puppy i’m crying so hard, kids are so mean they would have been so mean to him at school cuz of his scars i just wanna pick him up n hug him i’m so upset AND HIM THROWING A TANTRUM OVER ME GOING TO DANCE W SOMEONE ELSE IM SO ILL HE SO WOULD IM GONNA THROE UP HE WOUKD BE SO MAD AND UPSET AND MOSTLY CUZ HE COULDNT GATHER THE NERVES TO ASK ME HIMSELF BEFORR SOMEONE ELSE DID i’m so ill sneaking into my bedroom for a goodnivht kiss and walking me to and from class and proposing after graduation my heart hurts so bad i want him so bad i’m so upset

[mamasbakeria]

four months

summary: love like yours is undoubtedly eternal, but when you haven’t seen your boyfriend in 4 months, it's easy to think twice.

word count: 4.8 k

pairing(s): akaashi keiji x reader

genre | includes: sfw, poc-friendly reader, fem!reader, established relationship, long-distance relationship, lots of swearing (i couldn’t help myself), reader has a step-father (and he sucks), minor violence (people just get slapped it’s nothing crazy)

author’s note: i spent like 3 weeks on this and it ended up only being 4k words im gonna cry- anyway i’ve had this idea for a long time so i’m happy its out of my head. it’s based off of some hc that i read a really long time ago, but i wanted to expand on it and add my own little twists. i wrote this for the climax and proceeded to avoid writing the climax for as long as humanly possible. please ignore if the formatting looks a little funky in the beginning, i’ve been wrestling with html for 3 hours now and i’m a little tired. enough talking, enjoy!

Bokuto-san, are you sure this is okay You; 5:53pm

Yes im sure! I asked the coaches and everything Plus i owe u for tutoring me in english last year Bokuto K.; 5:54pm

I told you that you don’t have to pay me back. You did most of the work. You’re very intelligent Bokuto-san But I’m glad it’s okay. That's one less thing to worry about You; 5:56pm

THANKS (L/N)! I think Akaashi’s smartness has been rubbing off on me But what else r u worried abt? Bokuto K.; 5:57pm

It’s nothing You; 5:57pm

I don’t think its nothing (l/n). I want to help if i can Bokuto K.; 5:58pm

I guess I’m just worried that Keiji doesn’t want to see me It’s stupid, I know You; 6:01pm

I don’t think that’s stupid at all!! But you should see how sad Akaashi is without you He doesn’t smile a lot, but when he does, it’s almost always because of you HEY! Send a message to him right now and you’ll see Bokuto K.; 6:03pm

Okay..? You; 6:03pm

[Attachment: 1 Image] See!!! Bokuto K.; 6:04pm

Thank you, Bokuto-san Really You; 6:07pm

Of course! It’s my job as ur senpai to make sure ur ok Did I do a good job??? Bokuto K.; 6:08pm

Yes, Bokuto-san. You really did You; 6:08pm

Of course I did!! Break’s over! I gotta go. See ya soon (l/n) And I promise not to spill the secret!!! Bokuto K.; 6:10pm

Pinky promise? You; 6:10pm

Pinky promise!! Bokuto K.; 6:10pm

Alright, have fun! You; 6:11pm

You scrolled back up to the picture Bokuto had just sent you with a small smile on your face. The image was blurryㅡobviously rushed as if Bokuto was trying not to get caughtㅡbut it was perfect for you. The gym's fluorescent lighting cast a halo in the gaps between your boyfriend’s unruly hair and danced in the gunmetal undertones of the eye you could see. Just as your upperclassman promised, the smallest smileㅡinvisible to the untrained eyeㅡsat comfortably on his lips. The photo was taken from the side, so you only saw the tenderness in his left eye, but you couldn’t stop your heart from swelling 3 times its size knowing you were the cause of such a fulfilling gaze. Who knew the most beautiful man in your life could get more beautiful? And all because you’d sent him a simple heart.

Maybe Bokuto was right. Keiji would be excited to see you.

But maybe he was wrong. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in almost 4 months. Don’t ask. It was messy, it was stupid, it was super fucking annoying.

ㅡㅡㅡ

You scratched the skin just below your skirt while waiting for the vending machine to process the numbers you punched in. Everyone at Fukuroudani knew that this was the best and worst machine on campus. It carried the best drinks in the largest sizes, but was near impossible to operate. Depending on the time of day, day of the week, and phase of the moon you could get your drink within 3 minutes or 15. The moon was obviously not in a favorable position, because, not including the 4 times your 1000 yen had been spat back into your hands, you’d been waiting in front of the machine for 8 minutes and 37 seconds… 38… 39…

Saved from your agony, the machine began to hum and push your drink forward. Finally. You spoke too soon, you realized, as your purchase got caught in between the racks and the glass. You knew exactly what you had to do, but had no energy to do so. A quick glance at the clock showed how little time you had left of your lunchㅡwas it worth it? Remembering that the price of this same drink was almost double at the konbini near your house, you decided it was. With fierce determination behind your eyes, you shifted your weight and swung every ounce of strength into a strategically placed kick on the machine’s side. Okay so maybe I should start stretching again. That should not have hurt as much as it did. I might have actually pulled a muscle. Rubbing at your leg again, you crouched to grab your drink from the slot and straightened immediately when you heard high-pitched whistles come from behind you. You didn’t have to turn, but you did anyway if only to glare at the group of 3rd years trying to rile you up.

“Aren’t all of you 18? Are you trying to catch a case by catcalling a first year? That’s what I thought. Respectfully, go fuck yourselves,” you seethed as you snatched your drink, popped the tab, and left the scene before a wandering teacher tried to reprimand you for cursing out your seniors.

Sore, irritated, and drink acquired at the expense of most of your lunch break, you stormed back to your classroom knowing you could air your grievances to Keiji about the occurrences of the 15 minutes since you’d seen him last. Thank God you were eating with him today. Not a day goes by that you aren’t grateful for how reliable your boyfriend is. You could count on him to say what you needed to hear whenever you needed it.

What you weren’t counting on was sliding open the classroom doors to find some girl leaning onto your desk and into Keiji’s personal space. His eyes shot to you when he heard the door connect with the wall and you could almost hear his plea for help. His eyes widened ever so slightly and he gave you a near indiscernible inclination of the head, your shared sign language’s way of saying, “I don’t know how I found myself in this situation, but I want to leave.” It was normally reserved for nosy neighborhood aunties trying to introduce their nieces and nephews to the both of you, but the wordless communication you both had been building since you were young was just as effective now.

If you weren’t angry before (you were), you were beyond agitated now. Was this not Japan? Was everyone not taught respect at a young age? Did you wake up this morning in an alternate nightmare universe where everything was ever-so-slightly more inconvenient than what your emotional reserves for the day were willing to handle? You didn’t realize you were clenching your fists until some of your drink dribbled onto the back of your hand. You also didn’t realize your feet were moving until you were right in front of the pair.

“Keiji, baby, who’s this?” Akaashi winced at the sickly sweetness in your tone, this was the side of you he avoided at all costs: the affectionately titled, Overworked And Underpayed Customer Service Employee Meets Pissed Off Soccer Mom. In less coded words, the side of you that used politeness as the final barrier between you and righteous fury. For anyone that knew you, it was a terrifying place to be. But for you, this stage was rather cathartic. It was a neat segue that allowed you to welcome the rage that flushed your system clean of any of your usual friendliness and settled on top of your bones like molten rock over the side of a volcano. The look in your eyes read danger and the mystery girl ignored all the signs.

“Oh don’t mind me. I won’t be relevant to you much longer. You can call me Yasunobu, but Keiji here can call me Naoko,” an offending hand rested on Akaashi’s bicep as she giggled. I’m too young to get my blood pressure monitored, but I just might have to after this. You felt your eye twitch.

“Yasunobu-san, I don’t think my boyfriend likes you clinging to him like that. Please let him go,” if this was the Disney movie Inside Out, the little emotion people in your brain would be celebrating and shaking hands like they were at NASA coordinating a successful moon landing. You managed to talk without cursing her entire bloodline, that was impressive.

“I think it’s fine, he isn’t saying anything,” Yasunobu leaned in further and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. What the fuck this is literal harassment- “but don’t worry. I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget to text me, Keiji.” Her now devilish smile stretched wider when your brow furrowed. Yasunobu’s eyes roved over your boyfriend once more, before she pushed off your desk and adjusted her clothes dramatically.

“Move it, whore,” Akaashi just barely stood from his seat in time to catch you. Did she just fucking shove me? It took you no time to regain your balance.

“Run that by me again. I don’t think I heard you correctly,” our words were louder than you’d intended and soon everyone in the room was looking at the 3 of you, eager to soak up the drama for this week. Especially because you were involved. Now, don’t misunderstand, you have a great reputation. Abrasive at times, but only when asserting yourself. When you weren’t, you were respectful and generous. Compassionate and hardworking, “a pleasure to have in class” as teachers say. But everyone knew that you were a ticking time bomb. Not quite hotheaded, but definitely not slow to anger. Normally, you could catch yourself when your self-control was about to slip, but stories spread like forestfire of the minor incidents in which staggered breathing didn’t do its due diligence. Very rarely did anyone step out of line enough for you to put them in their place, but now that it was happening, everyone wanted to see it firsthand.

“I said you should get out of my way. You’re deaf and ugly too? No wonder your boyfriend wasn’t pushing me away. Everyone knows he’s too good for you,” the silence in the room was suffocating.

Your boyfriend’s grip on your arm tightened just enough to pull you back from the spiraling thoughts he knew you had lost yourself to. The worst part is that she’s not wrong. Keiji is too good for m-

“(Y/n) just sit, she’s not worth your energy.”

“I know.”

Full of rage, yet somehow numb to the core, you sat. You picked up your drink (it splashed when she pushed you and now the sides were sticky) and took a long sip, nearly draining the entire can. Before you could set it down, it was coming back up to your face, spilling the contents over your nose and cheeks and dripping onto your uniform. You knew the spot between your eyebrows would be sore from the impact the next day. Okay she’s trying to make a statement and humiliate me, cool. Did she have to smack the metal can into my fucking forehead?

“Yasunobu-san I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you’ve clearly gone too far. I’m not breaking up with (y/n) to date you. Even if I were going to date someone else, you are the last person I’d choose. All you’ve done is show how ugly your personality is,” Akaashi’s voice was ice as he did he best to dry you off. His focus was no longer on the girl who was now flushed red at her plan blowing up in her face.

“I’m sorry, (y/n). I’m proud of you for not losing your temper,” Akaashi had no clue how things had gotten so out of control. He was just glad it was over. Lunch was going to end soon and the teacher would come and make sure Yasunobu got the discipline she deserved.

That would be too easy though.

Before Akaashi knew what was happening, you were pushing past him and grabbing the girl’s quickly descending hand.

“First you flirt with him, then you try to slap him? Are you crazy?” you seethed. This would go down as your worst lunch break in high school history. It didn’t get much worse than this. This was a textbook American high school movie conflict, and you were driving the bus straight into Regina George.

“Don’t touch me,” Yasunobu hissed as she snatched her hand away and sent it flying back at your face in full force. Gasps went around the room and you distantly acknowledged someone running out of the room in search of a teacher. She smirked in victory as you stared at the floor and held your cheek. She just fucking slapped me.

“That actually almost hurt a little,” you mumbled. There was a pregnant pause as the whole room held its breath. This was the type of out-of-line behavior that would unleash the side of you no one was previously dumb enough to intentionally provoke. The only question now was: what were you going to do?

You didn’t keep anyone waiting long. Your hand descended in a swift arc onto the girl’s face. It was no ordinary slap. It was the deafening kind. Your palm was cupped as it clapped against her ear and sent her tumbling to the floor. You knew it was a one and done ordeal; nobody took a slap like the one you dealt out without being knocked off their equilibrium for a while.

“Someone take her to the nurse’s office, she’ll need to lie down for a bit,” was what you wanted to say, but before you could open your mouth, 3 teachers burst into the room. All they saw was a girl sobbing hysterically on the floor (when did she start crying?) and you standing over her.

“(l/n), you’re with me. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Well, shit.

ㅡㅡㅡ

It was worse than you thought. A lot worse. That fact didn’t dawn on you until you sat with your mother and step-father on the opposite side of the table from Yasunobu and her parents. The three of them were dressed to the teeth with name brand clothing and clutching their bags like you were going to rob them. Her stuck-up parents shifted haughtily and narrowed their eyes whenever you glanced in their direction, so you kept your eyes glued to the wall behind them. Apparently the nasty behavior was hereditary. The teacher who dragged you out of the classroom, Suzuki-sensei, a third year science teacher, alongside the principal entered the silent room to debrief both sets of parents on the situation and dole out the consequences. You were expecting a severe scolding and extra cleaning duties at the worst. Suzuki-sensei was on your side, as were many othersㅡeye-witness accounts all reported much of the same thing, it was obvious what the truth was, but the Yasunobu family was one of the largest benefactors of the academy. As long as Naoko continued with her crocodile tears, Fukuroudani was at risk.

Suzuki-sensei pulled your family aside, promising to do everything in his power to ensure Yasunobu didn’t get off scot-free. As for your punishment, there was nothing you could do. Trust me, your mother tried. Funding was far more important than a single student, no matter how promising of a student you were.

So one formal, written apology and a lot of screaming matches later, you were temporarily unenrolled from Fukuroudani Academy and shipped off to an all-girls etiquette school. Your mother, bless her heart, tried to reason with your step-father, but he wasn’t having it. He’d been looking for any reason to send you away and make room in the house for his children and wasn’t keen on letting this opportunity slip away (that was another can of worms for another day).

“She’s too volatile.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for months that she has an attitude problem.”

“Assault over a boy? I told you he was bad news.”

“It’s for the best.”

Even if it wasn’t, you found yourself stuck in a correctional environment to manage behavior that you didn’t have. Cut off from your friends, your mother, and the love of your life, you were miserable. There was only so much a phone call could do. Skype calls were hard to coordinate with your momㅡshe was working when you were free, you were asleep when she was on breakㅡand the rare face-to-face visits you had were all too short for your liking.

The only hope you clung to was the promise of it only lasting one semester.

And you made it. Nothing would ever compare to the 4 months in hell you experienced, but now you were on the other side, shaking near imperceptibly on the train towards Shinzen High School. Shortly after school let out for the summer, you met with your mother to celebrate. She was the one who planted the idea you were now carrying out into your head.

“(y/n), why don’t you surprise Keiji at training camp? He doesn’t expect to see you until he gets back. I think it would make his day. His mother told me he’s been miserable without you,” You knew your genius came from your mom, moments like this only solidified it.

It was a great idea, you wouldn’t be 6 stops (oh my god 6 stops) away from the high school if it wasn’t. You were just scared. 4 months was a long time. Naoko could have sunk her claws into Keiji in that time. Of course, he wouldn’t have texted you every waking moment of the day and called you late into the night if that was the case, but it was still a possibility. Even if it wasn’t, he could have changed. You could have changed. That was the entire point of your absence anyway. You were miraculously stubborn, but there was only so much you could reject. The lifestyle you’d been forced into was not easily ignored. What if the things he loved most about you were gone? What if when he saw you, his eyes didn’t widen then crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Would he pull his large, loving hands out of your own and neglect to fidget with them in the way he knew you loved?

What if the Akaashi Keiji waiting for you at Shinzen High wasn’t yours?

You couldn’t take that heartbreak.

It was impossible to envision a life without Keiji, you couldn’t remember a time before him. Your life has been intricately intertwined with his since before you could walk. He did life with you. Before any of your friends, you showed him when you first learned how to tie your shoes. He taught you the kanji for beautiful and wrote it on the back of your hand everyday in second grade. Even though you sucked, you helped him practice volleyball on Sundays in middle school. You opened your Fukuroudani acceptance letters together and swore on your hearts that you’d never tell another soul how hard you both cried. His growing pains were your own. If he was gone, who would tutor Bokuto-san with you? Who would joke about your mother loving him more than you? Who would remind you that you were never too flawed to be loved?

An announcement over the train’s speaker scared you out of your thoughts. Your attention shifted to the monitor overhead, but you couldn’t make out the map through the mistiness of your eyes. Stupid Keiji making you love him enough to cry in public. If you told him about this he’d laugh at you, so he’ll just never know. Bringing a sweaty palm to wipe your face, your breath hitched at the now clear map in front of you. 2 stops to go. You could just get off at the next stop and take the next train going in the opposite direction. It’s not like Keiji is going to die. You’ll see him when he gets back from camp. That might be easier.

But you’re (l/n) (y/n), self-proclaimed baddest bitch alive. Bad bitches don’t go back on their word. Besides, you’d already bothered Bokuto-san and the coaches to allow you to stay for the rest of the week. It would be rude to not show up last minute, especially after all the time they’d spent trying to accommodate you. Were you going to waste their time over some silly doubt? No way. The most loving boy on the planet was (unknowingly) waiting for you and he would be happy to see you. You missed him and he missed you too. You wouldn’t have to scroll very far in your texts to prove it. You could do this. You were going to do this.

With your mind made up, you exhaled deeply and shook all the bad thoughts out of your head. As if the universe was encouraging you to move before you changed your mind, the train screeched to a stop as it pulled into the station closest to the high school. Duffel bag hanging securely over your shoulder, you broke through the commuters moving too slowly for your liking and inhaled the fresh summer air that you’d been denied in the stuffy train compartment.

You pulled up the GPS on your phone and punched in the address for Shinzen High school with surprisingly stable fingers. A smile grew on your face as you looked at your ETA; in less than 20 minutes you’d be reunited with Keiji. You couldn’t wait.

But in the meantime, you had to plan how you were going to scare the shit out of him.

ㅡㅡㅡ

The configuration of Shinzen wasn’t all that different from that of Fukuroudani. You could navigate the empty school grounds with little difficulty, letting intuition guide you. You hummed a song with no rhythm as you moved, two-stepping and spinning to the cicada orchestra filling in the background with soft miin-miins.

Boisterous laughter cut through the previously still air and you knew immediately that you were in the right place. The smell of meat and overlapping chatter lead you behind the gyms where you found a large group of, unsurprisingly, ravished-looking, disheveled boys making excited conversation as the managers (you assume because you recognize Yukie and Kaori) buzz around the grill. Hoping to find your boyfriend or one of his teammates, you shuffled a little closer to the scene and elevated yourself on the tips of your toes. Your nose wrinkled in displeasure as you realized they all look the same: tall, athletic, sweaty teenage boys.

A cluster of blue caught your attention from the corner of your eye and you locked on to the two-toned hair of your school’s captain. Bingo. Just as you were going to step in the direction of the Fukuroudani team, you were stopped by another familiar face.

“Ah, Kuroo-san! It’s been a while,” a large grin spread across your features as you leaned in for a side hug. He got under your skin so easily, but you were proud to call Kuroo a friend. He was one of the few people that could set off your hair trigger and live to tell the tale. You were getting soft. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times Bokuto came crashing into Keiji’s house with Kuroo at his side. Very rarely did movie dates stay as just the two of you. Knowing Kuroo Tetsurou the way you did, this hug would end with his knuckles digging into your scalp and your elbow in his gut.

“Yes it has, (L/N). You know, I was expecting a more formal greeting. A 90 degree bow, a western-style curtsy even? Did you truly learn nothing from your time away?” As if on cue, he began to tug you into his sweaty (ew) torso and push your head around.

“Oi let me go, you menace,” you grumbled as you tried to push him off of you, “Etiquette school was just housewife training with calculus. I’m not going to worship the ground you walk on.” Finally breaking free, the two of you held a childish glare before relaxing into soft peals of laughter.

“Bokuto already told me that you were coming. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who knows. He's actually kept his mouth shut aside from that,” Kuroo placated the worry that filled your eyes for a brief moment before pointing in the direction you were heading before, “Akaashi should be down there. Go get your mopey little boyfriend.”

Kuroo pushed you lightly, not giving you the chance to say something snarky. At the call of your name you turn back around and are greeted with a look of sincerity not often acquainted with Kuroo Tetsurou’s face, “It’s good to have you back, honestly. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“It’s good to be back.”

Mission back in mind, you set back off to find Keiji. Your quickened steps were filled with a giddiness that you knew had flooded every cell of your body. Though your worry and doubt were shed long before you set foot on campus, you couldn’t help but notice the effervescent fluttering in your stomach as it lept to your throat and back several times over. Less than a minute now.

Head on a swivel, you must have looked lost or insane staring into groups of unfamiliar people and muttering in mild irritation when you couldn’t find what you were looking for.

“I could have sworn I just saw them? How does a group of 15 people just disappear?”

So focused on your task, you didn’t notice the eyes and whispers following you. Who were you? Didn’t they have this area reserved? What were you looking for? Should they tell a coach? Speculations bloomed in every conversation trying to place a story on you. None the wiser, you pressed on.

“I swear to God, if he’s in the bathroom or something- oh,” there, sitting demurely at the table full of your schoolmates, facing away from you, was Keiji. His hair was messier than usual and from behind you could tell he was just about ready to sink into the bench beneath him. The only thing holding him up was the arm he propped on the table and the palm he rested his cheek on. You understood. Training camp was no joke. No text message could properly convey the amount of work everyone put in this week. You could practically hear his inner monologue begging whatever deity took pity on him to send a shot of espresso from the sky. You weren’t coffee, but you could deliver an equally effective shock to his system.

In a swift motion, the bag on your shoulder was sailing through the air and colliding with his back. He was slow to react from exhaustion and you almost felt bad, but it would pay off in 5...4...3...2…

“Bokuto-san, it’s been a long day, please don’t throw things at me. There are easier ways to get my attention…” Keiji exhaled deeply as he turned around to scold Bokuto only to remember the captain was sitting right across from him. His confused eyes blinked dumbly when they finally saw you. All was silent as the surrounding players watched with bated breath.

Holding back a chuckle was proving more and more difficult as realization slid onto your boyfriend’s face, so you settled for a smirk and a lifted brow. It didn’t last long because the recognition on his face softened into something akin to fondness, to love, to coming home. The look was deeper than the crinkling of eyelids that normally translated into Keiji’s nonverbal love. It was a look you weren’t ready for, but something you couldn’t have gone another second without. You found quickly that you couldn’t keep your smirk up much longer and it was replaced with trembling lips. Amber rays of the setting sun honeyed the gaze you both shared; it was at times like this that you wished you were able to draw because you dreaded the day when every detail of this moment was lost in your memory.

(Little did you know, you would find yourself locked in a similar gaze less than 10 years from now, right after your wedding veil was lifted over your eyes.)

Akaashi Keiji is known as an ethereal being to those who don’t know him, if only they could see him now, scrambling to his feet and over the bench, barely stopping himself from face-planting into the grass. Gone was the poise that followed his every movementㅡhis only focus was pulling you into his chest and burying his face into the crook of your neck. The pull of your arms around his neck was automatic; your body had not forgotten how right it felt to be slotted with his. You could have stood there, wrapped in his embrace until you both became one with the grass below your feet. Instead you squeezed him tighter and relished in the chance to feel him again.

“I missed you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

4 months was a long time, but in comparison to the eternity you were going to love Keiji for, it was nothing at all.

© mamasbakeria 2021. do not repost, translate (without permission), or modify

[jojostylesposts]

hello 💓 if orders are still open, can you make general relationship headcanons for Caesar, Joseph (part 2) and Jotaro (part 3) with a slim thick fem reader please? if you can do that, I would be quite happy 😄. sorry for my english :b

Hi, luv💫 Sorry for the long wait💫 we hope you enjoy it!

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・

∞༺♥༻✧•Dating hcs•∞༺♥༻✧

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・

Ceasar Zepelli

- Ceasar is one cocky man

- He is so good with pick up lines, flirting and being overly an extremely detailed romantic person

- He knows what a partner wants to hear

- When it comes to you, you will have to deal even with the cheesiest pick up lines ever

- Let’s talk about his kisses for a sec

- You guys were in a normal conversation, you were basically talking about how your day had been and those big green eyes of his were focused on how your plump lips moved

- “Are you even listening?” You asked chuckling softly bitting your lip

- “Yes, amore.” He said with a raspy voice licking his lips

- That’s when you felt his hands on the back of your neck

- His face looked very focused as he closed the space between your lips and his

- Ohhhh the way he kisses is very addictive

- The things this man is capable of doing are beyond your imagination...yes he is capable of many things while on sexy time (;;;;

- He is also very protective since he’s been through hell and back

- If he feels that you are putting yourself in a dangerous situation or you do something he doesn’t agree of he will face you right away

- He is very straight forward

- When he gets angry you swear his eyes turn some sort of dark emerald green...pretty scary but kinda seccy ngl

- It’s hard for him to show affection due to some things on his past but you will always assure him that you are both here to learn how to love and care for one another

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・

Jospeh Joestar

- One crazy man, honestly

- Dating him would be a whole rola coaster of things you will never expect

- He’s full of surprises in all aspects

- The first time you guys met his first words were the following: “Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?”

- You cringed.

- He went from being that attractive annoying sexy man to be yours truly

- Let’s talk about his kisses

- He bites. He loves biting on your lips before pulling away

- He loves grabbing your sides, caressing your gentle skin but when he’s really into it he loves to squeeze them hard just to hear your grunts

- What a tease he is what a damn tease

- But if you don’t give him a kiss before leaving he will be grumpy all day bc he is a crybaby

- “No, don’t talk to me.” He would say with a pout avoiding your eyes

- “You cry too much.” You would sigh amount with a hidden smirk

- While on a trip for a mission you two would....purposely get lost

- Make out sessions make out sessions

- The man loves touching you, he needs his large hands on you all the time even if it’s just holding your pinky finger

- He is a deep lover so he loves showing and receiving attention

- You love him endlessly and you two share such amazing love

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・

Jotaro pt. 4

- dilf dilf dilf ouu yes

- Oh my god this man get me in the feelzzz

- Jotaro is a very complicated man on all aspects

- He’s quiete and very reserved so sometimes getting to him might be difficult but never imposible since he has a soft spot for you

- He’s not very romantic but will try to get out of his comfort zone for you

- His kisses are intense, always full of lust and hunger

- He craves you, hands busy roaming all your body

- He loves to hear you gasping for air after breaking them heated kisses

- Hands on your neck, hands on your hair tugging quite hard...

- Okay, enough...I’m a simp for this man

- He loves long walks on the beach while holding your hand and enjoying the sunset

- He spends a lot of time on his office finishing his on going marine investigations

- When you feel him tense or stressed due to work, you would massage his shoulders to relieve the stress

- Other ways to relieve stress can also be performed on his office (;;;

- Anyways, he’s a good man that has been through hell and back and you understand every bit of it

[combat-wombatus]

YEAHHH YOU KNOW IM HERE!!! BC I LOVE YOU COCO!!

okayy so for my request 👉🏽👈🏽

can i get bakugo x f!reader and prompts: 14. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” + 24. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

okay i love you!! 🥺🥺 thank you for doing this!

14: “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” 24: “Would you mind if I kissed you?” Character: Bakugou

ok so like...i may or may not have gone slightly overboard and turned this into a whole fic-

it’s like 2.2k words lakdjfhasjkdh enjoy-

thank u for requesting aves 🥺

“What? A party? I’m not fucking going.” Bakugou snarled. “Staying up past midnight is overrated. I need my sleep.”

“But Bakubro,” Kaminari whined. “We’re hosting! Mina planned it all, and she spent a lot of time doing it! You should at least go. You don’t have to stay up that late.”

“Tch. As if I care.” Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets and slumped forward even more. “Pinky can waste all the time she fucking wants to. I’m not going.”

“It’s our last year at UA! Come on,” Kirishima joined in. “You can leave early if you want to! It’ll be mostly in the dorms anyways. Mina did plan a scavenger hunt though, in Gym Gamma. She says that she planted “mementos” of our school experience. Isn’t that fun?”

“Fun my ass. It’s stupid, is what it is.” He glared at Kirishima. “Should’ve visited my parents. Even the old hag isn’t as loud as all of you extras in the dorms.”

“You say that like you didn’t blast a hole in the wall just last week,” Kaminari pointed out.

Kirishima winced. “Denki-”

“WELL WHOSE FUCKING IDEA WAS IT TO PRETEND THAT THEY WERE FUCKING KIDNAPPED?!?” Bakugou waved a fist wildly in Kaminari’s face.

“Fair point, fair point. You should’ve seen the look on your face though! (Y/N) thought you’d murder her!” Kaminari cackled.

“I’D NEVER FUCKING MURDER HER! ARE YOU INSANE??” Bakugou’s palms started crackling.

“Hey, chill bro, we know that.” Kirishima tried to calm him down.

Kaminari was not so lucky. “Why? You joke about murdering us all the time. What’s so different about her?”

Bakugou turned, a quick retort on the tip of his tongue, before he realized that Kaminari was, actually, right for once.

“She’s…she’s…” He stuttered.

Kaminari let out a hoot of laughter. “I knew it!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bakugou’s face turned beet red. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Suit yourself. We know the truth.” Kaminari patted Bakugou’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, Bakubro! (Y/L/N)-chan is going to be at the party too! Why don’t you confess to her there? That would be fun! And then Mina will forgive you for leaving early too!”

Bakugou’s left eye twitched. “There’s nothing to confess, Shitty Hair. And I don’t give a rat’s ass what Mina thinks.”

Kirishima and Kaminari looked at each other, then turned back to Bakugou.

“Sure,” Kirishima smirked. “Nothing at all.”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Mina ran up to you. “You’re coming to the party, right?”

You turned to face her. “Sure am! Who isn’t? It’s in the dorms anyways so there’s not much of a point in not coming, right?”

Mina sighed. “Kiri and Kami are having a hard time convincing Bakugou to come. Something about his sleep schedule?”

You were a little disappointed, but it was to be expected. Bakugou didn’t participate much in team-building activities anyways. “Can’t relate. My sleep schedule has been fucked to high heaven.”

“Right? What a crappy excuse.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Anyways, Sero’s waiting for me in the gym to help set the scavenger hunt up. See ya later, yeah?”

“Sure! Do you want more help? I can help you guys set things up if you’d like,” you asked.

Mina leaned forward, smiling mischievously. “Nope! It’s all good! And besides, I want you to participate in the game, so you can’t help!”

You smiled. “Ah, okay. Well, I’ll see you later then!”

“See ya!” Mina winked and gave you a little wave.

“So, the rules of the game are simple: whichever team finds and touches our very own 3-A New Year’s Ball, together, wins!” Mina exclaimed from her place on the couch.

“What kind of shitty game is this?” Bakugou growled, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Mina pouted. “Hey! Sero and I spent a lot of time making this happen!”

“Yeah! They were amazing!” Ochaco jumped up too. “Stop being ungrateful!”

“Fine, whatever.” Bakugou crossed his arms. “Get on with it already. We don’t have all night.”

“Actually, we do! Not everyone here has the sleeping schedule of an old man,” Kaminari piped in.

“Shut up, Dunce Face. Nobody asked.” Bakugou scowled.

“Hey! Back to the regular program. You get to choose your own partners! Isn’t that exciting?” Mina waved her piece of paper around wildly. “Now get to it! You have three minutes!”

You looked around the room. You would’ve asked Mina, but she and Sero weren’t participating since they were the ones who hid it. They had also apparently hidden clues all over Gym Gamma as to where the location of the ball was.

“Ocha-” Oops. She’d already teamed up with Iida.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, come over here!” Bakugou yelled across the room. You sighed. Of course.

“Sorry Bakubro, I already have a partner…” Kirishima said rather sheepishly.

“…you WHAT?”

“Yeah…Momo here didn’t have a partner yet and…well…Mineta was hot on her trail,” Kirishima tried to explain as Momo breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shuckers!” Mineta faceplanted onto the couch. “I never get what I want”

“Hmph. Karma’s a bitch.” Jiro smirked from her position next to Kaminari.

“Dunce Face, you got a partner too?” Bakugou sighed, exasperated.

“Right next to me!” Kaminari pointed to Jiro with his thumb. You smiled in satisfaction. They were honestly adorable.

You turned to the rest of the room. Hagakure had already snagged Ojiro, Midoriya had, unsurprisingly, paired with Todoroki. Shoji and…Tsu? Koda had paired up with Sato, and…you snickered a little at the last pairing. Tokoyami had been bombarded with Aoyama’s relentless chatter. Which left…you and Bakugou.

Huh. That was weird. You swore that not everyone had a partner just a minute ago. And it was awfully strange that Tokoyami would choose to pair with Aoyama instead of you or even Bakugou, but…you supposed that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

“So. (Y/N).” Bakugou cleared his throat. “Partners?”

“Uh…yeah,” you replied, fidgeting slightly with your hands.

“Ok! Everyone is paired up and ready to go?” Mina was practically bouncing.

“Yeah!” Most everyone chimed in unison.

“Let’s do it then! Sero, come on! Lead the way!” She jumped down from her place on the kitchen counter.

“What the fuck? Pinky and Tape Arms hung that thing all the way up there?” Bakugou swore.

“You can use your quirk to get up there though, right?” You looked at him, brows furrowed.

“Duh. But what about you?” He looked you up and down. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t fly.”

“Easy! I’ll just ride on your back!” You chirped. “Unless you can’t carry me?”

“Tch. As if. Get on.” He squatted down, letting you scamper onto his back. “Ready?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

You leaned into the crook of his neck, breath lightly fanning his face. “Ready,” you confirmed.

Cackling gleefully, Bakugou shot up into the sky, palms ablaze.

And as quickly as he flew, he was dropping to the ground even quicker.

“DAMMIT!” He glared daggers at the ice wall that had appeared over your heads. “Fucking Deku! And that IcyHot bastard!”

Spiraling, he tried his best to save the two of you from a hard impact on the ground, but he was only successful in twirling around in the air like a ballerina.

“Shit!” He tried to flip upside down in order to land on his feet, but the momentum was against him.

With an “oof”, the two of you landed in a pile on the (luckily) snow-covered ground.

“You alright there, idiot?” Bakugou said gruffly.

You groaned. You weren’t sure how, but you definitely sprained something with the way you landed. Ankle? Wrist? Perhaps both?

“Hey. Hey!” Bakugou climbed over the snowdrift to reach you. “Get up! The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down, Bakugou!” You pushed his hand away. “It’s just a sprain,” you pointed to your ankle.

“Nothing else?” He seemed intent on picking you up, so you let him.

“Nope, everything’s fine,” you assured him.

“Sorry about that!” Midoriya called out from atop his perch on Todoroki’s newly-formed glacier. “We got a little carried away!”

Bakugou stilled. You winced. Midoriya was in for a rough time.

“Deku…” He ground out. “What the FUCK do you think you and IcyHot are doing?”

“I-I’m sorry! We didn’t mean to knock you down from the air!” Midoriya started gesturing nervously. “I-I swear it was an a-accident!”

Todoroki sighed. “It was an accident. Let it go, Bakugou. And (Y/N), we are very sorry for having injured you. Would you like for us to accompany you to Recovery Girl? The game is over now.”

“The fuck did you say, IcyHot? No fucking way. I’m taking her.” He stomped towards Recovery Girl’s office, you firmly nestled in his arms.

“Think we succeeded?” Todoroki turned to Midoriya. “They seem to be getting along fine.”

“I…I’m not sure. It’s not great that (Y/L/N)-chan had to get injured for this to work, but…Recovery Girl will fix her up fine and Kacchan might finally realize that he has feelings for her…”

“Hey guys! Great job!” Sero dangled Mina from a tree branch overhead. “Look at them go!”

“It’s all according to plan…” Mina clapped her hands together. “Now, we just have to wait for the clock to chime twelve…”

“Fucking assholes.” Bakugou hadn’t stopped muttering underneath his breath since you’d left.

You giggled. He was so angry over such a small thing. It wasn’t like the fall was intentional; you’d both just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Bakugou stopped walking and stared at you. “What?” He frowned at you. “Why are you laughing? Did you knock your fucking head on the way down too?”

You started full-on laughing this time. “No, Bakugou. It’s just…you’re so cute when you’re mad,” you tried to explain. “Your eyebrows scrunch up and you purse your lips and…”

By this point, Bakugou was a blushing mess. No one had ever called him “cute” when he was angry before.

After a while, he broke the silence. “So…I don’t scare you?”

You laid your head on his chest. “Not at all.”

“Tch. You should be scared of me, dumbass.” He turned your body so that you were facing him, shielding his tomato-hued face from your gaze.

“And why should I be?”

“Because…because…I’m Bakugou Katsuki, dammit!” He clenched his fists, bunching up your parka.

Snickering, you decided to tease him. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I thought you were Midoriya Izuku for a second.”

“You WHAT?!?”

The two of you bantered playfully all the way to Recovery Girl’s office. She took one look at you and frowned.

“Tsk. I thought there wasn’t training today?” She rifled around for an ice pack.

“There wasn’t. We played a game and I just sprained my ankle.” You explained sheepishly. “And possibly my wrist.”

Recovery Girl tapped her cane on your knee and sighed heavily. “You guys don’t know how to take care of yourselves! Playing a game and getting injured?” She rubbed her temples. “The hospitals are going to have a field day with the lot of you once you become pros.”

“Sorry. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” You held in a wince as she prodded your ankle.

“Minor sprains. I’m going to wrap those and give you some gummies. Take this ice pack with you when you go. Ice for 10, leave for 20, and repeat for 3 hours. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am!” You held out your wrist for her to bind.

“And don’t you go do anything else dangerous now, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear!” You hopped nimbly off the table, landing on one leg, and was promptly scooped up again by Bakugou.

“Hey! Let me down! I can walk!” You protested against his arms.

Bakugou turned to Recovery Girl. “Look at her. You really want her to walk?”

“As a matter of fact, I do not. Stay still, young lady, and let him carry you,” she admonished.

You slumped in defeat, and Bakugou carried you out of the room.

“Ahh…young love,” Recovery Girl stared wistfully at your fading silhouettes. “I remember…”

“3!”

“2!”

“1!!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!!”

The class was situated in the common room, spread out over the numerous couches and munching on fresh cookies (courtesy of Momo and Sato).

And as the clock chimed 12, you looked to Bakugou, sitting right next to you.

“Can…can I…” You started nervously, fingers fidgeting with your ice pack.

“What? Spit it out,” Bakugou stared at you.

“Canikissyou?” You blurted out as fast as your tongue would let you.

He smirked. “What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”

You sighed. “Would…would you mind if I kissed you?”

Bakugou’s lips pulled into a wolfish grin. “All you had to do was ask, dumbass.”

Epilogue

“Do you think they caught on?” Mina whispered excitedly to Sero. “I wasn’t sure if they saw me leading Todoroki and Midoriya to the ball.”

“Nah, I think we’re fine. Besides, it’s not like he can complain. He got a girlfriend thanks to us, right?” Sero chuckled.

“Ok…if you say so…”

Suddenly, they heard a growl coming from the doorway to their left.

“Shit.”

“Run!!”

“I won’t let you bastards get away with this!!”

Coco’s New Year Celebration 20-21

Masterlist

[overwhore-s]

A Freak in a Sheet (Ghost!Bakugou x Reader) part 1

part II

This is 1347 words and I wrote it all in under an hour. I am both proud of myself for writing so fast but also kinda mad ‘cause I know I made some typos ‘n shit but am too lazy to read after myself so aaah...if you find anything PLEASE let me now I will thank you very nicely <3 

Anyways have some ghost Bakugo. Where I am right now, it is the day before Halloween. I’ll try to post the second (smutty) part tomorrow. if you want to, please also support this on AO3. Love you lots, please enjoy <3 

warnings: some swearing. also brief mentions of depression. 

Get lost, motherfucker, reads the lovely message scrawled on your bathroom mirror. Now, you’re no expert on the psychology of writing, but you’re almost certain the author is angry with you. He’s such a big personality too, with those big, bold letters. And he wrote it in…blood? Experimentally, you dip your pinky in the red substance and then put it in your mouth. You grimace.

Chili sauce.

“Listen, friend,” you start, mentally preparing yourself for the oncoming onslaught of ghastly apparitions and cupboards flying open. Ghosts are annoying like that.

“I’m not here to cause you any sort of harm, believe it or not.”

The lightbulb above your head flickers aggressively, as if in disbelief at your words.

“Woah, you doubting me buddy? I’m telling the truth, I swear!” You lay your hand over your heart as you say that, hoping the ghost will see it as a guarantee.

No such luck. The cabinet door suddenly opens, hitting you painfully in the knee. You cry out and start hopping around on your unhurt leg, all the while swearing like a sailor.

“Ow! Fuck this! I’ve just about had it with you! I’m done being nice, you stupid fucking ghost! I’m going all Ghostbusters on your ass!” You threaten, before kicking the cabinet closed and shamefully limping away.

Bakugou materializes leaning against your bathtub, a self-satisfied smirk pulling at his lips. You’ll be out before the week is out, he’s certain of it.

                                            •─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Despite his best efforts, a week passes and you still remain, as stubborn as ever. It’s more than a week now, actually, closer to six months, but time tends to flow funny when you’re a ghost. He’s lost count of how many lightbulbs fell victim to his explosions, how many times you tried to capture him in a ring of salt. You seem to know an awful lot about ghosts – most likely you’ve met others before at some point in your life, considering you’re not even a little scared of him.

If anything, you’re…curious. When you’re not busy shielding yourself from flying objects or relighting the candles he continues to snuff out, you ask him stuff, and it’s annoying, and he hates how he sometimes gets the urge to give an honest answer.

You never ask about traumatic shit like his death or why he chooses to remain on Earth instead of passing to the next world. You want to know about whether he was a college student as well, if so, what was his major, what music he likes, if he’s a dog person or a cat person. When you’re watching TV and something makes you laugh, you point at the screen showing some stupid game show and yell: “Do you see this? What a dumbass!” He can’t help himself but agree, because the guy is indeed a dumbass for answering an easy question like that wrong, and it is pretty fucking funny if he does say so himself.

You talk about yourself too. When you come home from school for example, you tell him about your day. The first few times it happens, he keeps rattling pots and pans to disrupt your speaking, but you barely let it affect you, continuing in a cheerful tone despite the obnoxious noise.

He soon finds he likes the sound of your voice, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. Before you came in it, his life after death was quiet, depressive and mundane. Now it’s hardly peaceful, but you brought change, and light, and laughter…he never realized what he was missing.

Until you happened.

He listens to you even when you’re at your lowest, sharing your insecurities and fears with him like he’s a most trusted friend. He hates how the sight of you, shaking with sobs when the world gets the best of you, makes his chest feel all sorts of tight and his head spin with anger at whoever caused you to be like this.

It’s mostly at times like these that he wants to reveal himself to you, gather you up in his arms and hold you close to his chest. Would you feel it? Would you get grossed out, push him away? There’s too many variables, and he’s still just coming to terms with his affection for you.

So he chickens out.

You have average days as well. When nothing amazing has happened at school or work, or you’re too tired to want to talk about it. You take a long shower, enjoy your meal in silence and head straight to bed.

Bakugou feels weird watching you sleep, so he doesn’t. He hangs around the kitchen instead, cleaning the dishes you were too beat to take care of before sleep. Sometimes he watches TV, the same shows you like, but it’s not half as entertaining when you’re not there to keep him company.

It’s so fucking strange, he thinks, so unlike me.

When exactly did he stop seeing you as an annoyance and started considering you a friend?

                                                 •─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

He doesn’t know how exactly it happened. It’s like his body – his weird, unearthly, ghost body – moved on its own. One moment you’re standing up on a chair in order to reach that bag of chips he purposefully moved out of your reach because he knows how much you like saving them for a show and it doesn’t start for another thirty minutes – the other you’re falling, and he thinks, shit, that’s all my fault, isn’t it?

And so he catches you. His solid arms encircle your waist and your back hits his chest and you’re warm and alive and it feels wonderful.

He hears you gasp, not in fear, just surprise, and he wonders if you knew he was in the kitchen with you the whole time.

“Thanks for that,” you say, knees wobbly as he lets go of you.

“You’re welcome,” he grumbles and the words are out before he can stop them. Yep. He did it. After months of playing the mute, he finally broke his silence.

“I knew you could speak,” you say, triumphantly. You’re still not turning around though, and Bakugou thinks it might be because you’re scared of what he looks like. It’s not that bad. Who’s he kidding, it’s great, actually. He never was one to deny the obvious – unless it hurt his pride too much – and so he can admit to himself that he’s an attractive guy…or at the very least, the people who knew him when he was alive considered him attractive.

“Can I look at you?” You ask suddenly, carefully. Like you’re considering his feelings or some shit. It throws him off balance. Here was he, thinking you were shallow like the rest of them, and all along you’ve just wanted his consent.

When you don’t get an answer out of him right away, you panic. “Like – you don’t have to. I know some deceased don’t like showing their faces. It was nice enough of you to show me your arms though – you have nice arms – but like…I’m going to the living room. You can dematerialize. Let’s watch some TV.”

No. He doesn’t want to do all that…dematerialized, he realizes. “You can look,” he blurts out quickly. If there was any doubt that he liked you before, now there’s none.

“Are you sure?” You ask once again, this time trying his goddamn patience.

“Fuck’s sake.” He grabs you by the arms – how heavenly it is to touch something living for a change – and forcibly turns you around.

You look at him, the first person to see him in…in too many years, and as your eyes fill with amazement and wonder, he knows it was worth it to wait for so long to show himself after all.

“What’s your name?” You ask, softly, and his throat feels tight as he responds.

“Bakugou.” He doesn’t ask for yours. He’s known it for a long time now.

You grab his hand and squeeze, warm, human, alive, perfect. “Very well then. Want to watch a reality show with me, Bakugou?”

[harmoni-me]

Byakuya Togami x Ultimate Hacker Reader!

Hey! I’m back from a mental break and I’m rip, roarin’ and ready to write again! Though I might take awhile to post now due to me wanting to me time for art, I’ll still give this account the love and attention it needs to give people joy! Anyway, enjoy this little fluffy read of our favorite corporate entity <3

“For the love of god PLEASE work with me….” you sat at the front of your large three monitor build, with each of them set up to reveal lines upon multi-colored lines of jumbling code. Your knowledge of Python and Java were on the brink of becoming something less than fluent from every sip of the sickeningly sweet energy drink that sweat on your spare mousepad. 

It was no exaggeration how jittery you were right now. I mean, you just chugged three caffeinated-stuffed drinks, your mind was ecstatic with what was going to happen after the code had rendered, and also it was 2 am. Though this was bound to happen, with you being the number one hacker in the country, sleepless nights were a given.

But, this little project was mainly for yourself, since you were finished with all the rest of your clients.

Basically, you were trying to hack into Japan’s DIET building treasury databases to see if you could hack the Japanese stock market to temporarily crash, then shoot up into the sky, then somehow sell all of your investments within an x amount of time that this code would provide for you.

So, yeah, that’s another reason why you’re a little on edge…

The rendering was about fifty percent completed, and to say you were having a heart attack was an understatement. You could get arrested for life, maybe assassinated in the night, kidnapped, used as a hostage, maybe even be written about in the newspapers. You spun out of your chair and started anxiously speed-walking from one end of the room to another.

“Holy shit, why did I even go through with this. I’m so stupid it’s not even funny. Oh! The precious PubSec members, take me now!” you sang, crazily talking to yourself as some sort of comforting mechanism. You glanced over to your monitor to see that the loading was buffering a bit, so the rendering had only jumped to 60%.

“You know, I really should have thought of a plan B on this one-” A knock sounded from your bedroom door, echoing and reverberating in the hollow portions of your brain.

“Y/N. What in the world are you doing?” a voice rang from the outside of your room.

“Oh shit…” a realization struck like a bullet in the head. You scurried over to the door, leaning into it while your hand was on the door knob.

“Ahahaha, I-I was just about to go to bed, Byakuya! I was just talking to myself because, you know, I’m an introverted hermit who loves stupid letters and numbers! So, uh, night!” You belched out the words so unconvincingly that it made your stomach cringe in disgust. Whelp, you were definitely screwed.

“Y/N. Let me in…” Byakuya sternly replied. He obviously was not having it, as always when it came to your...personal hacking shenanigans. The last time Byakuya walked in on one of your hacking extravaganzas was when you hacked into the Pentagon. It ended in success, but your husband presented you with a hell of a lot of lectures on the punishment of the law, and how your hacking fun could affect the Togami family.

Like that was going to stop you from making fat bucks.

“Ok….but promise not to freak out too much and take it out on me?” You pleaded through the door, not wanting Byakuya’s harsh words to affect you at this hour of the night, and the situation that you're in.

“It’s all on you whether you get scolded or not.” Byakuya said, frustration present in his voice. You shifted your weight more onto the doorknob, and turned to see that your rendering had reached 70%. Why were you so loud when you talked to yourself?

“I won’t let you in unless you promise me...please…” You mumbled, a bit of your guilt dripping in your words. You heard a heavy sigh on the other side, then a stand-still of silence following after. 

“I...promise. Can I come in now?” Byakuya’s voice softened up, making your tense frame unwind from the now more comfortable atmosphere.

You creaked open the door just a bit, peaking out to see your husband with messy, freshly-washed hair, and comfy clothes that he would only dare put on when he planned to go straight to bed. 

“You have to pinky-swear on it.” You stuck your arm out of the crack of the door, sticking your pinky finger out as a treaty of promise to Byakuya. The blonde just chuckled tiredly, lazily latching his pinky with yours, and shaking it a little as confirmation.

“It’s a deal, now what did you do this time?” Byakuya strutted into your room, now having access to your coding domain. He automatically directed his attention to your multitude of computer screens, all of them running at full power to run the code you had just implemented into the DIET building security firewalls. You walked over to him, slightly nervous from what you had to break down to him, because you KNEW he would understand all of it, and would most likely be in flames about this little project you had going on.

“Alright, so I basically got bored and I didn’t really have any clients, so I did something...questionable.” You started off, swaying back and forth with your nerves tickling your stomach.

“Define ‘questionable’” Byakuya asserted, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one side.

“I might have created an AI program that will hack itself into the firewall of Japan’s national DIET treasury building to temporarily crash the stock market for a small increment of time, then make it shoot back up the charts so I can sell all of the cheap as hell stock I would buy when it crashed and-” 

“I’ve...heard enough” Byakya raised his voice, but not in an aggressive way, but more of a shocked sort of fashion. The heir started to massage his temples with his middle and index finger, staying quiet the whole time while doing so.

You shuffled closer to the man, bowing your head down in shame. You knew you shouldn’t have done something so impulsive to simply just keep your fingers warm and your brain entertained. You should have read that book that Byakuya recommended, or maybe baked a little cake and decorated it with fun colors, or finished that movie series that you were meaning to complete-

 Your rushing and regretful thoughts snapped and turned into dust when you felt warm arms around your frame. It was delicate, yet it pulled you in, as if protecting your from the outside world and the horrors it beheld.

“A promise from the Togami family will never be broken, and I also just happen to despise yelling at you, so...I just want to remind you of something.” Byakuya’s low, grumbly, and tired voice had kicked into gear, making his droopiness contagious to yourself.

“I never planned on marrying someone who I couldn’t protect with my life.” Byakuya let out a weary sigh, “But, when you do things like this, there is only so much I can do. You know the consequences, and I’m just…” Byakuya paused, leaving your heart feeling even heavier than it was before.

“I’m worried about what could happen to you, Y/N. I nark on you because I care. What a husband I would be if I simply let you be arrested, or beheaded, or whatever it may be.” The hold on you only grew stronger, yet it was as if you felt wrapped in a shield against any opposition.

“I worry, I scold, and I try my damned hardest to protect you all because I care. I don’t want anybody to take you away from me, alright? Remember that.” Byakuya’s hand tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and gently kissed your forehead, conveying the words into an action that anyone could understand.

“I’m sorry, Byakuya. What I did was impulsive and stupid and-”

“Did you make sure to code your coverups?” Byakuya suddenly spoke, a serious look in his eyes.

“Well, yeah. It would be kinda stupid if I didn’t-”

“Then it’s settled, you crash the economy, and I’ll monitor. Just don’t do something like this ever again, or you're going to have to sit through something that’s way worse than a lecture on the law, am I clear?” Byakuya let go of your body, and walked over to your workspace to apparently ‘Monitor’ the situation you were about to dive yourself into.

“I can’t really say for sure that I can keep that promise for that long…” You plopped yourself in your comfortable office chair, spinning yourself in the direction of your now only slightly drowsy husband.

You heard Byakuya grumble from your answer, then, after a minute of clear internal debate, he stuck out his arm to you, and delicately lifted his pinky to your direction.

“...”

“Hurry it up, you know what I want, pinky-swear on it.” Byakuya never looked at you when saying those words, but your heart was still stolen from the message either way. This man really knew what he was doing to make your heart throb out of your chest.

“Well, I can’t say no to that...:” You smiled gummily to your husband, cutely locking pinkies together, as if they were meant to be there forever to seal a bond that remains forever unsevered.