#most of my argument I’ve already laid out in my notes. I guess I just need to revise it to make it more clear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lauraneedstochill · 8 months

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Confess the longing you are dreaming of

summary: Aemond thinks the woman he has to marry is the most impudent and unsufferable he’s ever met. He’s also never wanted anyone so badly. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader (third person, no mention of Y/N) warnings: bantering and teasing, mentions of unpleasant sexual experience, praise kink (guess who’s got it), a dollop of softness, mild smut (... for starters ;) author’s note: couldn’t get the idea out of my head and spent a few sleepless nights writing this. I imagine her brothers as Pedro Pascal and Oscar Isaac ✨ words: ~8000 song inspo: Hozier — Better love

>>> Aemond isn’t present when the idea is voiced the first time — he has a hunch that his grandsire is to blame for that. No doubt, Otto was the one to plan it out, come up with arguments served with his persuasive tone. He’s always loved to make arrangements and strike deals, each one of them to play into his hands, and Aemond hates the thought of being just another pawn of his.

He is blindsided at the breakfast but it’s made sound carelessly mundane — as Otto puts down his cup, he throws him the proposal, the way one would leniently throw alms to the poor. And Aemond thinks he must’ve heard him wrong.

“Marry me to... Who?” the prince asks, hardly covering his surprise.

His grandsire directs his gaze at him, the old man’s mouth twitching into a condescending smile. Since Otto isn’t keen on idle talk, he tells him plainly:

“You’ve long been of age, Aemond, you know that,” his knife scratches the plate as he cuts the meat, his eyes not moving from the prince. “House Martell holds power, and we’ll be fortunate to have such allies. Besides,” he pauses to take a bite, and Aemond gets annoyed at waiting; Otto chews, then adds, “I’ve only heard good things about your bride-to-be. Wouldn’t you confirm, Ser Criston?”

The mention of the knight is unexpected to them both — Aemond turns his head to meet Ser Criston’s puzzled look. But the brunet effortlessly copes with his emotions:

“We met when she was just a kid. But I knew she’d grow into a fine lady,” he easily agrees. Mayhaps, too easily for Aemond’s liking so he makes a note to talk about it later on.

His grandsire only lets out a pleased hum. “Well, I’m under the impression she will make a good match for our prince,” and Aemond feels that Otto carefully picks each word, “She’s said to be both beautiful and smart, and known for being quite independent,” he’s usually so stingy with his praise, it’s worth its weight in gold.

But that is not what Aemond hears. The choice was made for him, and his rejection of it makes him paint a portrait less alluring — a pompous wayward woman raised in the traditions that are starkly different from his; and yet, it is expected of him to accept it freely. His wounded ego simmers at the thought.

“I’d add another word to that,” Aegon chimes in, half-drunk already, “Everyone knows the Martells to also be promisc—”

“Look who’s talking,” Otto glares at him, and Aegon shuts his mouth.

The word is left unsaid, only the meaning of it isn’t hard to guess, and Aemond feels embarrassment creeping up his cheeks and weighting down his chest. He deems himself an educated man, well-read and eager to put his knowledge to the test, but he has yet to learn of carnal pleasures. A memory is clawing out: him, ten-and-three and plied with wine, laid on a bed that smelled of sweat, a naked woman next to him. Despite her tireless attempts, he wanted none of it, and the repulsion made him sick — and then it made him hate the act itself.

He did go to the brothel through the years, tried watching, touching, looked at bodies of all sorts, only it felt like putting paint over a rotten wall. He felt constrained, and lacking in some way (perhaps, in many), and more so awfully incomplete. Not once he sensed a spark, a pleasure he would crave, and no amount of effort could help him fill the emptiness inside.

He quells the feeling, pushes in indifference instead, and glances briefly at his mother. She meets his eye but only grants him a faint smile, her own gaze lacking any protest.

“Her brothers wrote that they would visit in a fortnight,” Alicent peacefully explains. “It is our duty to ensure a royal welcome.”

“Brothers?” Helaena blithely chirps. “How many does she have?”

“Four but only two of them are coming,” Otto tells her softly, then looks at Aemond, adding in a voice more wily. “I am convinced they really want to see whom their dear sister is about to marry.”

He doesn’t spell it out but the implication can’t be clearer — Aemond must play the part and make a good impression. As if impressing just one stranger wasn’t tedious enough.

As if he isn’t vexed already by how unsuitable he finds her.

>>> Frustration grows in Aemond with each day, takes roots, and clogs up all his thoughts. Some other man would’ve been glad — he often heard that the Martells are quite the lovers. He can’t admit it to himself how much he’s bothered by his own misfortunes on the love field.

He bottles his emotions up and doesn’t utter any word of discontent, nor does he ever speak of the awaited visit. Although he makes just one exception.

“My grandsire mentioned that you knew her,” he reminds Ser Criston one day after training.

The knight nods. “I crossed paths with Quentyn, he’s the oldest. She used to come to watch us train.”

“What was she like?” Aemond carefully wonders.

Ser Criston ponders for a minute, polishing his sword. “She was a quiet little girl, kept to herself. A lot of boys were always chasing after her, and she paid them all no mind,” he smiles at the memory. “But I remember one of them who was... particularly pesky. His charms didn’t work on her so he got offended, rude, followed her around. She tolerated him for over a month. One morning, he was hassling her in the training yard, and she just took a spear laying nearby — and smacked him with no warning,” he shakes his head but it’s apparent that he isn’t judging. “She didn’t use the pointy end but she got him good. And then she told him that next time he would think twice about his actions. She was impressive for a ten-year-old,” he muses and puts the sword away, then turns to Aemond, giving him a wistful stare. “Frankly, I think that you will like her.”

He does, for just a second, as his mind rushes to paint the image of a fearless little girl; and then he mercilessly wipes that image off. Maybe in other circumstances, he could’ve found amusement in that story, but Aemond only huffs and thinks back to the list of all her traits he prematurely made up. He adds “rebellious” to that list, and his self-doubt is a venom that clouds his judgment. He’s in no rush to find a cure.

>>> Their ship arrives a few hours earlier than planned — and after the dock watchers break the news, the bustle begins. Maids, servants, guards all run and faff about the castle, the dining hall gets filled with smells and noises, plates and dishes clanking.

Aemond is not excited in the slightest.

He dresses up reluctantly, each piece of clothes only dampening his mood that’s been already sour for the past two weeks. He all but drags his feet into the dining hall and by the time he reaches it, he looks so grim that one may think the prince’s preparing for his death, no less.

The minutes fly too quickly for his liking — they barely have time to sit, his mother nervously toying with the tablecloth already, and then the guards rush to announce the guests. Surprisingly, she’s not among them. The prince thinks he should be relieved; deep down, there is a splash of worry fizzling in him.

Her brothers walk in calmly in a cloud of servants bearing gifts. Their kinship is immediately clear — both tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired, self-confidence subsisting in their every step. The oldest is distinguished by a touch of gray in his short beard, his gaze more focused, a slight smile plastered on his face. The other one shamelessly stares at every maid his eyes can catch.

“Your grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Quentyn reaches their table first, and Alicent walks down to greet them. He keeps his distance and his smile, his tone is measured. “We were so sad to learn that the King has fallen sick. But I can tell the Kingdom is in great hands. And —”

“Women’s hands do have a healing touch,” Oberyn smoothly interrupts, his accent a bit thicker, his voice honeyed. “I will prefer a Queen over a King at any given day. Unless, of course, your husband can compete with you in beauty... I somehow doubt that.”

A shade of disapproval grazes Quentyn’s face but Alicent is too amazed to notice. The compliment may come off as blunt but she still takes it well, her smile embarrassed yet sincere.

“I hope you will enjoy your stay,” she tells them humbly, then looks over the crowd. “But may I ask where is the lady we’ve been waiting for?”

“She made a stop on our way to catch up with an old friend,” Quentyn answers, ready to explain, “It’s been years since we’ve met Ser —”

“Still can’t believe he is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Oberyn chuckles. “I think it’s all the armor that makes it look like he poses a threat. But you may reconsider if you see him in the nude.”

This time, the older brother glares at him with warning, and there’s a lull in their conversation, while Aemond’s struggling to hear what made his mother’s cheeks so red, his mind nervously preoccupied with someone else —

her laughter enters first.

It’s bright and joyful, a sound so lovely it might be enough to crack up his restraint. But then he spots her, and it feels like his whole body flares up at the sight.

She’s walking with her hand under Ser Criston’s arm, and Aemond’s never seen a dress that covers so much but hides so little. It’s muted orange, floor-length, made of sumptuous silk, with two long slits along the sides, curves of her thighs beguilingly seen through. Her neck and arms aren’t covered, and the material is intricately stitched around her waist to show a few more glimpses of her sun-kissed skin. The waves of her long hair fall on her shoulders and frame her face, each feature of it striking but her lips stand out the most — full, plump, and reddish. Not once before Aemond found the thought of being kissed so tempting.

She doesn’t even turn her head to look at him. She’s talking to Ser Criston quietly, and he’s engaged in conversation, unusually relaxed. Their difference in age is obvious, and the knight seems like just another relative of hers, but an uneasy feeling still leaves a bite on Aemond’s chest. He can’t imagine her so carefree — so beaming and compliant — by his side. His jealousy tastes bitter like a stale wine.

He hears his brother let out a short laugh. “It’s not like they were fucking,” Aegon carelessly notes. “Please ease your outrage before she runs away.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice,” Aemond snarls.

“You do look like you need it,” the blond comments, then goes back to drinking.

She gracefully approaches them, her voice melodic like a murmur of a river. “Forgive me, your grace, for being late, I haven’t seen Ser Criston in some time,” she tells his mother. “He was once a dear friend of mine.”

“I only helped to shush away a few of your admirers,” the knight cackles, earning a smile from her.

“I hope you are making use of all his talents,” she says to the Queen, making her face flush right away.

She delicately moves on to another topic. “It is a pleasure to have you here, you must be tired from taking such a long trip.”

“We found it quite enjoyable,” Quentyn remarks politely. “The beautiful sights along the way are worth the journey, and your city has some great views too.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard great things about your food,” Oberyn grins. “Hence why we took the liberty to bring some of our own,” he signals to the nearest servant, who runs to open one of the trunks they carried. “The dornish fruits are also my sister’s weak spot.”

“As if you don’t gorge yourself on them!” she jests, letting go of Ser Criston’s arm at last. “My brother is a glutton, your grace, please excuse his manners in advance.”

“You can call me Alicent,” his mother corrects her warmly. “Only seems fair to continue this discussion at the table,” she slightly moves away to let the girl go first.

Aemond unintentionally stiffens and only when he stands up from his chair to greet her, she finally does look at him. In contrast to her countenance, her gaze is dark and piercing, and the prince is staggered by how unreadable it is. Her brothers glance at Aemond briefly — Quentyn is pensive, while Oberyn looks like he wants to bite his head off; neither says a word.

She’s seated to his right, and she leaves behind a trail of scent — apples and plums, and he can’t help but catch the movement of her hips under the flowing dress. The words all mash and fall apart, and he can’t pick a single one to strike up a conversation.

Aegon is sitting next to her, and his patience only lasts a minute. “Never knew Ser Criston was such a ladies' man.”

“I’m sure he succeeded on that front but we are merely good friends,” she answers calmly, keeping her eyes on servants bringing fruits — blood oranges and pomegranates, robust grapes, and ripened cherries.

“You two seemed more than friendly,” Aegon presses, his tone evidently taunting.

She picks a golden apricot and runs her thumb over its fragrant surface. “Maybe it’s the wine that makes you see things,” she rebuts and takes a bite out of the fruit, a drop of juice risking to escape her mouth but she wipes it swiftly with her finger. She catches Aemond looking, and his cheeks heat up.

“We’ve never seen him in the company of a woman,” the older prince points out, filling up his cup once more.

She takes out the kernel and eats up the fruit, her mouth glistens. “Aren’t the knights of the Kingsguard forbidden to marry?”

“Never stopped them from bedding whoever they like,” Aegon remarks crudely, and Aemond is thankful that their mother is too preoccupied with Oberyn’s tireless chatting.

“Maybe some men have the decency to follow orders,” she responds, unbothered, taking a cherry and clasping it with her lips. Aegon doesn’t seem to notice and only gulps the wine and rolls his eyes. Aemond can’t look away.

“Aren’t you Martells known for not following the rules? I thought unruly was in your house’s motto,” Aegon argues, a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.

She takes another cherry, the third in a row, her lips already stained with juice. “I think you keep getting your facts wrong,” she brushes him off, and Aegon goes to object some more but spills the wine right on his shirt. The displeased cry brings Aemond out of his trance.

“He tends to do that when he’s drunk,” the one-eyed prince coolly interjects.

Her eyes flicker to him, then she fully turns her head. “So you can actually talk,” her teasing comes off soft but her gaze still burns. “It’s good to know.”

“You seemed preoccupied with someone else,” he musters an excuse.

“Do you expect your wife to never speak to other men?” her voice almost betrays her disenchantment.

“No,” Aemond quickly answers, caught unawares by how strained his thinking process is. “She— you are free to choose your friends, of course.”

“I’m flattered,” her tone suggesting otherwise, “Not that I would ask for anyone’s approval,” she reaches for a plum; he closes his eye with a sigh.

Aegon comes to stand in between them on the pretext of needing another carafe of wine: “I didn’t mean to interrupt your friendly bickering, please continue.”

“It seems like Aemond isn’t in the mood for talking,” she doesn’t look at him, the tip of her tongue darting to lick her finger. “And I am never in the mood for begging.”

“My brother’s hospitality leaves much to be desired,” Aegon takes a sip. “So I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” his hand falls on her chair. “But if you ever wish to be... well satisfied, all you have to do is ask me”.

It’s hard to tell if Aegon’s actually that drunk or merely provoking (or if he’s got a death wish, Aemond wonders).

She replies without much thought. “Well, if I ever find myself in need of...,” she trails off with a smile but her gaze gets harsh — her words then follow, “My choice won’t fall on you,” the smirk falls off Aegon’s face, and she glances straight at Aemond, adding, “I like them taller.”

But her straightforwardness is met with his resistance, with the deep-rooted unacceptance of his lurking needs. He adds “indecent” to the list, and they speak no more.

>>> Her boldness doesn’t pose a problem to anyone but him. To his surprise (or more so to his shock), his mother gives in first.

The morning can’t come fast enough for Aemond after he spends the night tossing and turning. A few hours later he rushes to the garden for a walk, overwhelmed by restlessness his training didn’t help him cope with. That’s when he sees it — a spot of yellow shining through the trees. He somehow knows it’s her without further confirmation but still, his feet carry him on.

Her dress is vivid like a field of marigolds, her hair plaited, wrists adorned with golden bracelets. He slackens pace and peers into her — and he wants nothing more than to drink her up, her whole appearance is the sweetest nectar... Until he hears another sound and realizes she is not alone, and it’s his mother sitting by her side, wrapped in her favorite green and, unexpectedly, in glee. He can’t remember when he saw her laugh like this — out loud, giggling, tears at the corners of her eyes are not from sadness but from joy.

“My dear, that is so improper! Did he apologize at least?” Alicent inquires with a smile.

“Oberyn rarely does,” she tells her serenely. “His lover looked way more ashamed. I hope each of your rooms has locks, gods know I don’t want to walk in on him again.”

Unlike his mother who is covered by the shade of trees, she’s bathing in the sun, the soft light caressing her skin, and Aemond’s eye greedily follows every ray. In barely a minute he feels warm all over.

“I hope that Aemond’s chambers got locks too,” she adds all of a sudden, a bit louder, and his chest is splashed with cold.

His eye moves to her face, and she’s already looking at him, direct and daring. He knows he’s hidden by the trees but there’s no hiding from her gaze.

Aemond turns away and steps back in haste, his abashment mixed with grievance at her implication. He believes someone like her would never lust for him, and her jokes at his expense not only hurt but prompt his resentment to grow stronger. He adds “deceptive” to the portrait of her he is so adamantly set on painting.

>>> She wins Helaena’s heart with ease. His sister fondly compliments her brooch — a little poppy made out of gold — and she gifts it to Helaena the same day. The silver-haired princess grabs at chance to show her own collection, and they spend the day looking through the jewels spread over the floor, sitting right there and equally amused.

And that’s how Aemond finds them. He only planned to see his nephews but hearing her voice coming from Helaena’s chambers makes him slow his step.

“... And this one he gave me for my latest name day,” Helaena babbles cheerfully.

“Aemond clearly spoils you,” she laughs without a shade of envy. “As he should!”

“He is very kind at heart,” Helaena eagerly assures her. “You will be happy with him, I am certain of it.”

There is a pause that makes him feel uneasy, makes him sneak up closer to the room.

“I do believe he’s not an evil man,” she finally says, “Maybe he just wasn’t made for marriage.”

Surely she can’t see him through the door but he can swear that he feels her gaze, like a silent challenge, a hidden mocking. He barges in without a knock.

Helaena beams. “We were just talking about you!”

His sister’s dress is milky blue, modestly pretty, and loosely fitted. It’s also treacherously pale compared to the liquid gold the Martell girl is dressed in. She’s sitting with her feet under her thighs, the bending of her back is bare and in plain sight. He should’ve walked away the second he heard the sound of her voice because not looking at her seems impossible.

“Oh, you came to see the twins? They are with Aegon but I can call— No, I will bring them back myself,” Helaena springs to her feet, rosy-cheeked and smiley, and leaves the room before Aemond can protest. And then it’s just the two of them.

He takes a breath and makes an effort, with his jaw tense and his blood rising, to drag his eye away from her. It feels as pointless as ignoring sunlight in an open field on a summer day. Only her beauty is more brazen — and so is her wit.

“I take it, gold isn’t your favorite color,” she speaks up with an impish tone. “Would be a bad idea to wear it on our wedding then.”

She never comes too close, always just a little out of reach, and yet he feels as if her presence grips him, weakening his will. He doesn’t want to be with her until he is — and then he has no wish to leave.

It scares Aemond as much as it spikes his anger.

“Why did you agree to come?” he bristles.

“You are not asking about your sister’s chambers, are you?” she clarifies, and he hears her smiling.

He tells himself he only needs to cast a glance to check.

He does — he meets her gaze — her earrings catch the sunlight and cast a trail of glares — the scattering of specks play on her skin, her neck and collarbones, sneak to her upper chest — his own is heaving. His struggle only lasts a moment but it leaves him short of breath. He isn’t looking anymore, his eye trying to discern the pattern on the drapes behind her.

“Our marriage, how do you benefit from it?” he hates how hard it is to control his voice.

And how she watches him intently without giving him a clue of what’s on her mind.

“I plan on visiting my family a couple of times a year. It will be easier to do on dragon back,” she doesn’t sound spiteful when she says it but her words still sting.

He can’t stop an image flashing through his mind: her on top of Vhagar, lungs full of air, pressed to him. It’s tempting — to have her in his hands, and yet the vision is too intangible to cling to. Instead, he thinks that in just three days she learned to play him like a harp, his years' worth of self-control is merely a sand castle against the tide of her sharp tongue.

He only snickers dryly at her reply, then they both hear the sound of running footsteps. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys rush to greet him — but almost instantly abandon, the kids' attention drawn to the shining golden dress.

He thinks “unruly” suits her better than does “pompous”. He comes up with a fake excuse to leave; the image of her stays with him.

>>> He picks more adjectives as the week goes on — she’s audacious, disobedient, wanton. She moves around the castle as if she owns every room she’s in. She wears less, and even on rare occasions when she doesn’t, her defiance more than compensates for it. She never shies away from a deep neckline, nor does she feel the need to hold back her resounding laughs. Her jewelry clinks, each of her dresses is brighter than the other, but it’s her wicked mouth his eye always falls on first.

More times than not, Aemond can’t tear his gaze away, each meal for him now both a torture and a feast.

He watches as she parts her lips, puts them around a luscious grape, a cherry, or a peach, she swipes her tongue to lick up every running drop, savoring its tang — and keeps eye contact with him. He barely can taste the food he’s eating, and no wine can quench his thirst, his body flooding with a feeling he can’t define, his heart adrift.

He tries to fight it off with all our strength. He scratches off “unruly” to write down “unabashed” instead.

But then the dinner comes, and even though he’s never had a taste for sweets, he thinks he’d eat them from her lips (deep down, he wants to). The lies he tells himself are brittle like the flesh of fruits under her teeth.

>>> He comes to think “insufferable” fits her the best. That thought rings in his head while he is standing in the stable, his eye on anything but her. He was informed she wished to pick a horse, and he begrudgingly agreed to come, only to keep up the pretense.

What turns out to be much harder is for him to keep restraint. The dress she’s wearing might as well be a chemise — it’s just as light and white, and much to his discomfort, it also tirelessly risks hiking up to expose more of her legs.

Discomfort, mayhaps, isn’t the right word for it.

He stays out of her way but, unsurprisingly, he ends up looking — at how she walks, spring in her step, swinging her hips. She gives each horse a piece of apple and feeds them by hand, strokes their muzzles, and then she mounts and rides them, one by one. She grabs the reins, her foot easily finds the stirrup, and as she swings her leg over the saddle, her dress slips up, showing a few inches of her skin.

He swallows thickly, glances more intently — over her dainty ankles, bending of her knees, he notes how smooth her skin is, soaking up the sun. Her dress then billows slightly, and his eye glides higher, hungry, follows up the contour of her thighs that bounce a little as the horse gallops.

He feels it blooming — a sensation with no name that travels from the lower chest down to his very navel, then spreads and tightens all that’s underneath.

He is so deep in his enthrallment, he doesn’t hear the steps approaching until there’s someone standing next to him. Quentyn stays silent for a minute, throwing him a sideways glance.

“My sister’s always been terribly picky,” the man says out of the blue, “And usually it’s hard to meet all of her demands,” — it doesn’t seem like it’s the horses he is talking of. The vagueness of it makes Aemond focus as he takes his eye off her but Quentyn doesn’t elaborate, giving him a smile instead. “I do admit, your patience is commendable. Some other man would’ve already interfered just to wrap the process up.”

“I was under the impression she doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Aemond replies evasively.

“You guessed it right,” Quentyn titters, his tone veiled with the same unclear meaning when he adds, “The only thing left for us all is to accept it,” and with that, he goes to join his sister.

When Aemond — tamely, almost yielding — takes a peek at her, his gaze collides with Oberyn’s who clearly watched them talk. Unlike his older brother, he prefers to stay away, but the mischief in him pairs really well with danger. He grants Aemond a nod, switching attention back to her, his threats unspoken for the meantime.

For just a second, it gives Aemond pause as he finds it odd that no one brings up their wedding, and no announcements have been made ever since she came. He doesn’t mull over it for long because her laughter interrupts his thoughts (or maybe he just yearns for any chance to look at her). She rides around the yard, her hair floating in the wind, a little breathless but breathtaking, her lips enticing and her curves making his throat dry.

He tries to ground himself, to look for explanations, for some reprieve from the entrancing spell he’s under — he’s never been so close to losing reason —

out of the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of guards dropping their gaze in poor attempts to stop themselves from gawking; it reins his passion, bringing back his jealousy instead. He’s way too used to seeing himself unworthy to even entertain the thought of having her, and his denial prickles. He wants to burn his feelings out, and anger helps with that — it breaks out and engulfs him fast, hardening both his heart and gaze.

“Quentyn is the friendliest of the two, and you couldn’t hold a conversation?” Aegon appears out of nowhere, seemingly displeased despite the bottle in his hand. “Must you always be so gruff? I stayed behind in hopes you’d make it work!” he waves at Oberyn then glares at Aemond, waiting for a reply. “Are you pretending to be deaf or...?”

“Must she test my patience?” Aemond mutters, his tone not jealous but exasperated, his eye boring into her, “Putting herself out like that for all the men to see.”

Aegon being speechless is a rare sight. He cannot fathom it at first, looking from Aemond back to her, confusion sobering him up. And then he grins, realization creeping up on him; there are some things he’s always quick to notice.

“It’s funny that you say that,” he leans in to tell him and catches Aemond’s gaze, “Since it’s just you who’s staring,” Aegon pats him on the back and leaves to greet her brothers.

Aemond tries to choke it down — his irritation and his shame combined, but it’s too much for him to handle, his head and heart clearly in conflict. He doesn’t wait for her to make a choice, retiring without sparing her a glance (a fear nibs at him that if he looks at her once more, he will stay rooted to the ground).

He doesn’t leave his chambers for the remainder of the day, dining all alone and fuming all the same. He’s usually good at curbing his emotions but he is having trouble understanding them, wanting nothing more than to erase all memories of her. But even in his solitude, he catches himself thinking — about her cunning smile and swaying hips, her eyes on him, his hands wanting to roam and touch and —

Aemond shoves unwanted thoughts away and goes to bed earlier than usual. He remains steadfast in his resolve to find some peace, he makes a conscious effort to shift his focus to all the boring, random things his mind can come up with until he is too tired to care.

But then he falls asleep, and his subconscious welcomes her. He sees her right before his eye in that obscenely short white dress, there are no people in the yard, her tantalizing moves all meant for him. She hops off her black horse and walks to him without a single word — anticipation makes him drop his guard and hold his breath — and then he feels her lips on his, her body pressing into him, his hunger for her ruining his self-control, the kiss is searing, suffocating, driving him insane, his fingers pulling up her dress —

he wakes up painfully aroused.

He lays in bed, his heartbeat rushing, his breathing ragged, and vision blurred. While he’s still grasping for the remnants of his dream, he sneaks his hand into his breeches, wishing he could rip her dress off and sheath himself inside her, spread her on his bed, and drink every salacious sound she makes... It only takes him a few strokes to spill over his fingers; he can’t remember if he’s ever reached his peak so fast.

And only then, as he comes down from his high, it hits him, like lightning in the dark — in spite of her remarks, her audacity, her dresses, and every cruel adjective he’s found for her, he’s never wanted anyone so badly. Aemond sits up abruptly, his sleep gone, giving way to stubbornness that comes hand in hand with reticence. He persuades himself that he’ll suppress this — the spark, the pleasure that he craves, and he won’t be a slave to his desires.

He’ll rid himself of feelings, of this lust. Inevitably it will wane.

>>> It doesn’t.

Desire is a guest that never leaves, unwanted but demanding space, attention, time. It slips into his thoughts the moment he wakes up, it whispers in his ears, never giving up, it’s layered in between his clothes and his skin. He hides it well from everyone; it lodges deeper into him.

Desire is a cherry in her mouth, each fruit she bites in, savors, drinks the juice from. He doesn’t want to watch — he can’t take his eye off her, caught in his fervor like in undertow, the flavor of her lips the only one he truly yearns for.

Desire bruises more than does a hit, cuts deeper than a blade, and there’s no weapon he can fight it off with. His training brings him no relief, and he can’t sweat it out or wash it off him, and even while he soaking in a bath, it feels like longing only rises back with steam.

Desire waits for him at night, stands by his bed, slides right under the covers with him. He dreams of her, and in those dreams, her body sings under his every touch, trembles from his praise, his hands and mouth paint her with marks and kisses. He wakes up with his chest aflame and out of breath, and then it takes all of his willpower not to crawl to her.

It staggering how much he really wants her, and he hates himself for it.

>>> It’s been three weeks and they have barely shared a word. He does his best to cut down their encounters and avoid her, he doesn’t argue and takes no offense, he hopes that if he pulls back just enough she will give up and let him be.

Aemond spends his evenings in the study, his table piled with books, and for a couple of hours, it does help to take his mind off things. The night already steals in while he’s searching through the shelves for scrolls, too caught up in the process to pick up the creaking of his door.

Her gaze nearly scalds him. He only looks up out of surprise — and then he freezes at the spot, his heart a stone that plummets to his stomach.

Out of everything she’s worn, this dress might be the one to bring him to his knees — the cutting out the front so low, his eye falls in the hollow between her breasts; he envies fervently the golden chain that rests there. He takes in her whole body, bare arms, and flaunting forms, all clad in deep dark green. He’s never seen her pick that color (and he can’t help but think she put it on for him).

He’s brought back from his stupor when their eyes meet — and startled by the determination in her gaze.

“Ser Criston told me that you missed your training,” she stately starts walking toward him, “Quite a few times this week.”

“I found myself preoccupied with other things,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back, the scrolls forgotten.

“With reading, I assume?” she almost sounds aggrieved (he wants to ask what else she’d rather have him do) but then her tone gets jaunty. “Would you mind if I join?”

“Actually, I would,” Aemond takes his eye off her, his coldness feigned. “I’d like to avoid distractions.”

And more than anything, he would like for her to leave; she’s not the one to give up so easily. “Maybe we can learn some things together?” she nonchalantly insists, and that ambiguity — deliberate or not — leaves his face suffused with pink.

“I highly doubt you take interest in the things I study,” he manages, his crudeness biting his own tongue.

She only sneers, already nearing his table. “You surely rush to judgment.”

“And I am never wrong.” (Although he’s been wrong once before.)

“That’s very humble of you.” (And she’s tenacious with her intent to prove him wrong again.)

“I am surprised you know that word,” he replies too hastily — and instantly regrets his outburst.

And his attempts to get away from her could’ve been valiant, but only left him feeling like a coward.

She’s got enough courage to spare. “Oh, my apologies, did I strike a nerve?” her hip grazes a stack of books. “You sound so displeased with my behavior,” she puts her hands right on his table, her cleavage in full view.

“You interrupted my studies,” he’s looking only at her face.

“Just this one time,” she clears up, her sly smile is a dare, “Sounds like you have quite a few complaints.”

Damned be her dress and the day he laid his eye on her. “It’s clear as day that we have nothing in common,” he hisses, her persistence molding his anger. “From your bawdy humor to your reckless behavior and your...,” he struggles to push the word through his mouth, “vulgar dresses — everything suggests that we will never make a good couple.”

He catches a gleam in her gaze but it’s not threatening nor hurt — and when the corners of her mouth curl up, her face expression actually looks amused. “I didn’t realize my presence tormented you that much,” she crosses arms over her chest, her hands under her breasts; he looks away that very instant. “So will it please you if I take my vulgar dresses and go back home and leave you be?”

He wants to say it will — he’s thought of it for days — but now he isn’t sure. The dreams he has of her will hardly be enough as every image he collected has got nothing on the real form.

“Is there anything that does?” she asks him suddenly and takes a step in his direction, and then another one.

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s backed against the wall. The air in the room heats up, and Aemond moves back to his table, fingers holding to its edge to find some balance. “...Does what?”

“Please you,” she swiftly clarifies, now standing at arm’s length.

“That isn’t any of your concern,” he wants to glance away and yet, his eye is drawn to her.

“I am inclined to disagree,” her lips stretch into a smile. “Shouldn’t a wife know how to make her husband feel good?”

“We are not married yet,” he tries to argue weakly.

“I’d like to learn beforehand,” but her assertiveness works quicker than his doubts.

The time is still, and seconds drag like hours. His heart leaps at the thought of being all alone with her, his concentration crumbling, his self-restraint already hanging by a thread.

“The way you look at me suggests you aren’t averse to the idea,” she tells him in a low voice, her eyes two glowing embers. Aemond gulps, she deftly rounds the table. “You act so cold and so collected,” she muses, coming closer, and he helplessly steps back. “But I am yet to meet a man who would deny himself the pleasure of laying with a woman,” her voice is warm and warming; his legs bump into the chair, prompting him to sit.

He hesitates for barely a moment but his quick reaction fails him because the next thing he knows, she’s standing next to him, her golden chain casting a blinding glint — he blinks — and then she’s straddling him, her thighs on either side of his.

Aemond’s mouth falls slack as he becomes aware: to lift her he will have to touch her. He glances down at her legs that sneaked out through the long slits of her dress, all bare to the very hips before him.

“I wonder if you are too spoiled by the attention of the ladies? Mayhaps you’ve got so satiated, the intimacy doesn’t bring you any joy,” she runs her fingers up his chest.

He only finds it in himself to shake his head. She isn’t satisfied with that reaction. “Or do you simply find it boring and have a taste for something else?”

Objection bubbles in his throat but he gets no chance to voice it — he barely registers a clinking sound before he feels cold steel pressed under his chin, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his own dagger. He meant to leave it at the training yard but it completely slipped his mind.

“Does this work better? I’ve heard that you Targaryens have peculiar tastes,” her other hand lands on his shoulder, his chest is stirring with emotions he can’t read.

“That’s not— No,” he mumbles, his voice raw, the weight and feeling of her body overwhelming.

She cocks her brow at him in disbelief. “No? So it’s just plain old satiation then?” she makes no attempt to press the blade but her questions do get pushy. “Must be so hard when women throw themselves at you ever since you were... What was it, ten? Twelve years of age?”

He would expect her to sound teasing — instead, he hears disappointment. That’s the reaction he is used to getting.

“My brother took me to a pleasure house when I was ten-and-three. He said it’s time to get it wet,” he forces out, “And it was...,” awful and humiliating, something he wishes to forget, “...Not what you are describing.”

Her face expression changes — first surprised, then splashed with sadness, and her every feature softens. Aemond sees her opening her mouth to speak but he averts his gaze, abasement scrabbling at him. His eye falls closed, and he keeps thinking that now she will get up and leave, and there won’t be any wedding, and he’s got no reason to get so overly upset already, and —

she sheathes his dagger without a word, the unexpected movement making him breathe out.

And then she dips her head down, and her lips fall on his jaw. Aemond inhales sharply. Her mouth feels softer than it was in all his dreams, and she plants kisses down his throat, moving to the part of it the blade was pressed to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands while hers lock nimbly around his neck.

She pulls back slowly, and he dares to look at her again, trying to catch the merest shadow of pretense but there is none.

“I am truly sorry that you had to go through that,” she tells him quietly. “Have you tried some more since then?”

“I did,” his answer comes off hurried, blank, “I... I am aware of how the act is done.”

“How the act is done? Aemond, that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all,” she pouts, then gently caresses his face, her voice a tender whisper when she adds, “But it should be.”

He stiffens, waiting for the discomfort to wake up, for the aversion to coil his guts, to trigger the jarring need to move away. None of that happens. Instead, he feels her fingers running through his hair, a calming motion bringing only comfort, her every touch relieving tightness in his chest.

“You seem too tense... We have to work on that,” she joyfully murmurs. “Unless, of course, my worry causes you distress,” her fingers stop, “Do you want me to leave, my prince?”

“No,” he rasps, he almost pleads, “D-don’t.”

She hums with satisfaction, bringing her hands down to unclasp his leather doublet, knowing she won’t meet any resistance. He should resent her for this but he doesn’t (he didn’t and he won’t). The air lays cold over his shirt, and Aemond shivers; she moves her fingers down his firm chest with an unspoken admiration.

“Tell me how it usually goes,” she inquires, one of her hands finding its way back to his silver locks. “Do you find pleasure in undressing them?”

Her warmth envelopes him, scented with cinnamon and peaches. “They come without much clothes,” Aemond blurts out, earning another hum from her.

“And what about you?” she glances curiously at him.

“I don’t... I don’t like them touching me,” he timidly avows, and saying it to her does bring somewhat of a relief.

With both of her hands, she cradles his face, thumbs gently contouring his cheeks — he all but melts into her palms. “And yet you are so responsive to the touch,” her voice praises, “So pretty.”

She leans in again, leaving a kiss at the hollow of his throat — and then her mouth travels up, ardent and steady, and he squirms in place. Not out of discomfort.

“You are not supposed to rush it if you want it to feel good,” she whispers in his ear and moves back to catch his gaze. “You never rush into fighting so why love making should be any different?”

Astonishment brightens his face, and she chuckles lightly. “I must confess, I did enjoy watching you train, even though you never noticed. The way you move and twirl your sword,” she’s recollecting breathy, “You are so lithe and fast and so resistant... An infatuating sight.”

She holds his gaze and lifts her hand — he follows it, unblinking, until it finds one of the straps — she hooks it with her fingers. “Fairly soon it made me wonder how would your hands feel... on me,” his heart jolts at her words.

Slowly, she moves the strap aside, baring her breast for him; Aemond’s breathing hitches. She takes his hand in hers, planting a kiss over his knuckles — and then lets his fingers graze her naked skin.

“It was so cruel of you to rob me of my pleasure,” she laments, but he can barely hear a thing, his eye wide as he fixes on the soft swell of her breast, on how her nipple peaks so eagerly under his touch.

She guides his hand over her chest, down to her ribs and waist, letting him brush her every curve, placing his fingers firmly on her hip. And then she reaches for his other hand and lowers the other strap; his body trembles. The layers of his reticence are all peeled at once, leaving his desire raw and undisguised, unshackled. He’s drawn to fondle, clutch at her plump breasts but her grip is tight and taunting, not letting his fingers roam free.

Still, when both his hands sink into her hips, he realizes that he’s getting harder by the second.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her. With a controlled, torturously slow move she drags her clothed core over his straining cock. His mouth stays closed but there’s a sound — a muffled moan caught in his throat.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” she teases, lightly tugging on his hair, her lips reaching the column of his neck. “With how much you read, I hoped you’d be more generous with words,” each of her kisses weightless like a drop of rain but then her mouth finds a spot below his ear and suckles at it, pulling a whimper from his chest.

He thinks he should... his mind goes blank after another movement of her hips, and she picks up the pace, merciless and sensuous. He tries biting down his moans but only hurts his mouth. She notices, her rapt eyes on him, and puts her finger on his lower lip:

“Please, don’t be shy with me,” she coos, her gentle touch soothing his bitten flesh, “Our desires coincide,” she earnestly affirms him — and the spark erupts and drags him into pure bliss.

He feels that his arousal leaks, his breeches way too tight to hide it, his fingers dig into her supple skin, but she gives no complaints. He watches breathlessly through his hooded eyelid as she grinds against him, then looks over her bouncing breasts, her nipples pebbled, and the pressure curls somewhere down his spine. She peppers him with kisses — the angles of his face, neck, everything that she can reach, except for his desirous mouth. And yet the softness of her lips and hands, her skin that’s draped with the redolent scent, the rhythm of her hips all bring him closer to the edge.

Her forehead is pressed to his, their lips an inch away but never fully touching. “Let go for me,” she says against his mouth, “My handsome, fierce dragon.”

That does it for him. He harshly presses her to him, then shudders with a strangled moan and comes undone, his eye squeezed shut as her name quivers in his mouth. The pleasure whirls him in and leaves him drained and stunned, a little bit light-headed.

It takes Aemond a minute to recover before he finds her gaze again — and in another minute he discerns her shallow breaths, her parted lips, brows slightly furrowed. He wants to ask her if she reached her peak, if he can help her with it —

but she pulls back.

She stands up and only briefly grabs his shoulder, steadying herself, then promptly puts the straps back on, fixing her dress. He wants to lend a hand but she moves it away, leaning in to lightly caress his face. “No, you don’t get to have me yet. I want you to admit it first, to say that you want me,” her words are laced with dignity but cooling to his mind.

She steps back, cruelly fast, the only consolation is her naughty tone. “Until then, I have to satisfy myself some other way. But I will think of you while doing it, my dear prince,” she promises, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and then walks out without looking back.

The silence feels unwelcome in the room and hangs over the ceiling like a cloud, but Aemond he is too dazed to move, spent and perplexed to wrap his head around it.

Desire, it seems, has come to stay.

But it’s not the only thing he’s feeling.

✧... YES, there will be a second part, it’s already in the works! ✧ and yes, I didn’t bother to rename Pedro’s character 'cause I adore Oberyn sue me

✧ just to clarify, I usually age Aemond up to 20 (or however old Ewan looks to you ;) ✧ I got inspired after watching the video for ROSALÍA’s “La Fama” (give it a watch, she is soooo 🥵) but I only found it because of this gorgeous gifset so shout-out to OP for giving me inspiration

✧ my recent fic (couples who kill together, stay together 🔥) ✧ my masterlist

thank you @amiraisgoingthruit for letting me tag you in every silly story of mine, hope you’ll like this one (if anyone else wants to be tagged, don’t be shy)

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

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taechaos · 3 years

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from Textbook Love drabbles

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble(?), smut, college au

synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence

word count: 4.7k

a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.

The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.

But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.

“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”

“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“I was bored.”

“And where did you go?” he pries.

“None of your business.”

Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”

“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.

“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.

Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”

Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds.

Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all.

But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”

Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”

“Elaborate.”

“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point.

Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”

“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”

“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.

He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”

Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.

He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people.

His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”

Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before.

“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you…

“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”

Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I’ll talk to you when you’re not busy.”

He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”

You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”

It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”

Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”

You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”

“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”

Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.

“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”

“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.

Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.

Taehyung is a host too.

He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”

“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”

Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”

The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.

“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.

“He has an Instagram?”

He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images.

“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.

“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing!

“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”

It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips.

Click.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.

“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”

He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.

And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm.

“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”

Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well.

You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile.

A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you.

“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.

“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.

“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”

A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“What else did he tell you?”

You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”

“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door.

You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”

The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully.

“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”

You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter.

“I want you to be in it.”

He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”

“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.

Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?

“I-Is he not your friend?”

Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.

Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”

“Shut up.”

You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”

At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts.

His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him.

Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”

He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”

The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”

“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out.

His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.

And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy.

“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.

After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.

He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”

“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”

Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”

Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.

It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”

“I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”

Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.

“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”

Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.

“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”

“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”

“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”

Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”

“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”

A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you.

Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too…

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jjk smut #bts fic #kpop #jungkook fic #jeon jungoook smut

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Ticket to Ride - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance. Billy gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕕, 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were grabbing armfuls of clothes out of the wardrobe and dumping them into the three massive suitcases you’d laid open on the floor. If any of your friends had seen you at that point, they’d have said you looked like a woman possessed.

Finally, the wardrobe was empty of your clothes, and you moved on to the chest of drawers and then the bathroom. The contents were shovelled into a couple of large backpacks, as were various other bits and bobs from bedside table drawers and shelving units. In a surprisingly short space of time, you’d packed up everything that belonged to you in this damned apartment.

That left you just two very quick things to do, and you could then somehow get all this luggage downstairs into the lobby and get the hell out of Dodge.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The receptionist at the airport hotel you were booking into looked at the amount of luggage you had with you, and studied your face again carefully. No doubt she was wondering if you were a celebrity. Obviously deciding that there was an outside chance that you were but she just hadn’t recognised you, you were given an upgrade on the room without even asking for one.

Plopping down onto the bed once you’d got into your room, you rummaged around in one of the backpacks until you found your laptop, connecting it to the hotel WiFi. Opening one of the major airlines’ websites, you began scrolling through the destinations offered from JFK.

So many to choose from!

Now to plan your getaway.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy Russo got back home really late. He was going to be in trouble, no doubt about it... he hadn’t even texted because he hadn’t wanted to face any questions about what he was doing and when he’d be home.

Opening the apartment door, he was surprised to find it in darkness. Oh... had she gone to bed already? That wasn’t a good sign. He switched on the lights and immediately noticed a sheet of paper and a photo frame lying prominently on the kitchen island.

Walking over, he didn’t even have to pick up the note to read it. There was only one word, printed large.

“Goodbye.”

His stomach knotted and then he looked at the photo frame lying next to it. The photo was the one which was usually on the bedside table, a favourite of his.... she was sitting on a bar stool and he was behind her, his arms right around her. Both laughing into the lens as the photo was taken.

The photo was still in the frame, but it was torn in two.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Finally, by the next morning you’d decided on London. You’d never been, and quite honestly wanted to lose yourself in another big city. Flight booked, an AirBnB apartment booked for two weeks and you didn’t need a visa, so you were all set.

Now just one more thing to do. You opened up the box containing your new mobile phone and fitted the SIM card into it. After about twenty minutes of entering contact details and various apps onto it, you took your original phone and called Karen.

Her bored voice answered so you knew she was already at work, but she perked up when she heard your voice.

“Hi honey! How’re things? Wanna meet up for lunch today? I’m bored and I need a good gossip.”

You were a freelance copy writer and so you were your own boss. There were one or two assignments you were currently working on, but you could work from anywhere you could get a WiFi connection, so that wasn’t a problem.

“Uhhh, sadly not darling, I’m flying to London this afternoon.” You could hear her intake of breath, then she squealed, “Oh you lucky woman, how’d you manage to land an assignment like that?”

You gave a bitter little laugh, “I’ve left Billy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had sat on his sofa for a long time after he’d seen the note and photo. At first he’d just had to sit down, overwhelmed, as he had the most horrible feeling that his world was crashing down around his ears.

She was the one person who made him feel safe and loved. But he knew only too well that he’d been walking the line recently what with the situation at Anvil and having to keep Madani sweet. He hadn’t actually crossed the line, but he’d had to make sure she thought that he would, and soon at that. Would he have crossed it? He’d need to get back to himself on that question.

Of course he’d mentioned none of this to his girl. But obviously - somehow - he mustn’t have done a very good job at being discreet because she’d guessed something was up. And left him.

He’d poured himself a large whisky and downed it in one, before going over to the window and looking out forlornly at the city lights. Then he called Frank.

When he heard the gruff growl on the other end of the line, he said, “She’s left me, Frankie,” and realised how hoarse his voice sounded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“What?!” screeched Karen. You hadn’t divulged your recent secret fears to her, hoping against hope that you were wrong when you’d started noticing little things over the past few weeks. But now you gave her a full rundown of it all.

More and more claims of ‘working late’ and ‘being very busy at work’.

Alcohol on his breath after he’d been on these ‘working late’ evenings.

A distinct smell of CK’s Eternity from a jumper he’d left crumpled up in a corner on the bedroom floor when he’d been out extra late one evening.

The final straw? You almost laughed when you thought about it, as it was such a cliché. A smear of dark red lipstick on the inside collar on one of his otherwise pristine white shirts. And another unmistakable whiff of Eternity.

You’d never be able to wear that damn perfume again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie had been suitably sympathetic to start with, but had then begun to berate Billy for being ‘a stupid asshole’ once he’d explained what he’d been up to with Madani. “I didn’t sleep with her!” Billy grumbled, “....just messin’ around. You know we need to know what she knows.”

“Yeah, but women ain’t stupid, Russo! Were you goin’ home reeking of booze and another woman’s perfume?” Billy said nothing at first, just grunted but then said, “Maybe. Yeah.. probably.” “See!” said Frank, “...you’re a stupid asshole!” “I mean, she didn’t even challenge me on it!” Frank started laughing, “So that makes it her fault, huh!? You’re a piece of work, Russo.” “No, no.... I just meant, aren’t you supposed to have arguments about that kinda stuff first? She just up and left me!”

“I don’t blame her,” said Frank, “...and you know she’s not the type to take any BS from you, Bill. She probably thought it wasn’t worth her time listenin’ to you tryna give excuses for the inexcusable.”

Billy was reminded by this that one of Frank’s pet peeves was infidelity. “But I didn’t cheat!” said Billy forcefully. “Whaddya do, kiss her?” “Yeah.” “Feel her up a bit?” “Mmhuh.” “That’s cheatin’ in my book, Russo.” Billy realised he was hanging his head in shame, and quickly looked up and out of the window again.

“I dunno what to do, Frankie.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d given Karen your new number and told her on pain of death not to pass it on to anyone, even Frank and especially not to Billy. She’d assured you she wouldn’t, and neither would she tell them where you were headed.

She’d been fuming at Billy, and you wouldn’t like to be in his shoes the next time she happened to meet up with him. Her rage had been quite spectacular and she was really, really pissed that Billy hadn’t even tried to contact you. You didn’t say anything to her, but secretly you wondered if he’d actually spent the night with his side piece on this occasion and hadn’t even seen your note yet. Jealousy and anger began to take over and you stood up abruptly, determined that thoughts of that douchebag weren’t going to invade your brain.

You took the SIM card out of the phone, shut it down and tucked it away in one of your bags. Gathering all your stuff together, you began to get ready to leave the room..

Can’t wait to get on that plane, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie rang Billy back a couple of hours later. “Micro tracked her phone,” he said without preamble. “Where is she? At Karen’s?” Billy asked anxiously. There was a pause, then, “Nah, Bill. She’s at JFK. And her phone’s switched off now.”

Billy, standing next to the window again, yelled, “Fuck!” before leaning his head against the cold glass. “Can Micro find out which flight’s she’s booked on, Frankie?” “He can try, but it’ll involve some hacking so it might take a little longer.” He paused again, before continuing, “And avoid Karen. She’s out for your blood.”

Billy sighed, “She’s spoken to her?” “Yeah, course she has, Bill. She knows more than she’s tellin’ me of course, but I’m not even gonna try askin’ her. Waste of time.” “It’s okay, I get it, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to. But if she does say anythin’.....” “I’ll let you know,” Frank finished the sentence for him and hung up.

Billy looked out of the window and then up into the sky. She wanted to get away from him so badly, she’d got a plane ticket and was about to fly.

He just prayed he’d be able to find her before she took off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

London

#billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #the punisher 💀

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t-lostinworlds · 3 years

Text

Wish You Didn’t (Peter Parker)

a/n: hello, hello. here’s another angst fic as ‘tradition’ since this is my first ever full peter parker fic so yeah, please be kind alska. this is very fluffy from the start but then it’s all downhill from there lol, hope you enjoy this one <3

pairing: peter parker x female reader trope/genre: song fic - Wish You Didn’t Love Me by Jake Miller; best friends to...well; fluff and angst summary: You love Peter Parker with all that you have, but somehow, he doesn't find that as a good thing. Despite feeling the same way, to protect you, Peter wish you didn't love him at all. warnings: wholesome cuteness at the start to set you up for heartbreak, brief dark thought from peter, and swearing. word count: 13.9k+ (i mean, what’s new)

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

"Ugh."

Peter looked up from his textbook just in time to see you drop your bag on the table and then plop yourself down on the seat across him in the library. There was a look of pure frustration on your face, his brows furrowing at the sight of the deep frown written on your lips.

"What's up?" Peter asked, twirling his pen in his fingers as he tilted his head at you in concern.

You let out a big sigh, meeting your best friend's gaze with your frown still intact. "I've got a debate coming up tomorrow," you grumbled dejectedly.

The crease between Peter's brows could only deepen at your words.

You were the best on the debate team, always at the ready to take whatever topic it was thrown at you, headstrong. You're always excited to gush to him about what could be your winning argument, what would put the opposing team at a standstill. So, to see you be somewhat upset about an upcoming debate, it was so unlike you.

Maybe because it seemed last minute but by the looks of it, Peter can't help but feel like it was more than that.

"What's it about?" he asked.

You blew out your cheeks, hand coming up to play with the notebook he had on the table before you blurted out,

"Spider-Man: Friend or Foe."

Peter cleared out his throat just as he turned the page of his book to hide it, sitting straighter in his seat, pretending to get back to reading to avoid your gaze.

He didn't tell you.

Years and years of being best friends yet you didn't have an ounce of clue that you were sitting right across the person who was going to be the topic of your debate.

Peter trusts you of course, he trusts you with his life. His reason was simple really: he just didn't want to drag you into it.

Plus, knowing how worried you can get, he just didn't want to put you through all of that, especially on top of all things college and with what's going on in your personal life. He already feels so guilty with the stress he's put May through, he can't bear to see you have that burden too.

And most importantly, Peter just wanted to protect you.

"Still don't see why you're bummed about it," he said with a shrug, gaze running over the text printed on the paper but none of it was going inside his mind.

"I got picked to defend him."

Peter's head shot up at that, eyes narrowing on your seated form as he asked, "Oh, so you think he's a foe?"

"No..." you trailed off, eyes wandering around his slightly messy table littered with notes, textbooks and books, highlighters and everything in between. "Not really."

Closing his book, Peter leaned forward, arms rested on the surface with his full attention now on you. "Care to elaborate?"

You pursed your lips, shifting in your seat as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I mean, he's probably got good intentions but I've read about the Sokovia accords you know," you started, Peter nodding to show you that he was following. "And it's a debate. The other party would do their best to make him out to be a reckless vigilante. I can already think of so many arguments that they'd throw."

"Such as?"

"That he could be doing this for fame and attention, or that he is doing good things but his drive to do them isn't exactly the best. Is it for revenge? Bragging rights or maybe something darker? Another one could be that he's young, careless and naïve. We don't know what he's really capable of superpower wise which means he can probably hurt innocent people in the future.

"Not to mention if he's on the right or wrong side of the law. Who has to pay for the collateral damages that he has caused? Is it right to let him go scot free? I could go on and on and I just," you paused, resting one arm on the table and then placing your head on it as you looked up at your best friend. "I can't really counter those things with full force because I don't really know the dude nor do I have any real, solid facts about him to back up my claim that he's completely on the good side."

"Research hasn't done you good has it?" Peter hummed, a soft smile playing on his lips as his hand came up to poke your cheek, a sweet attempt to try and rid of your frown.

You shook your head no with a deepened pout, taking his hand away from your face with your own free hand as your nimble fingers then played with his absentmindedly.

Peter's heart grew warm at the gesture.

"There's literally nothing on this spider dude aside from blog posts written by fanboys and girls gushing about how amazing he is. Which is never a great source since it's already so biased," you explained.

"What would truly help you aside from research?" he queried, eyes trained on the way you interlock your fingers together and then letting it go only for a second before interlacing them again, letting it go and repeat. It was such an adorable habit of yours, one that Peter has grown so fond of, your touch always delicate and sweet whenever you fidget with his hand.

"An interview I guess? It'd be nice to get to ask him a few questions. Like, it would help to know why I'm on his side. Get a perspective on why he does what he does, you know?" you sighed, eyes fluttering close with your frown still intact. "At least that way, I know I'm defending someone who I know is worth defending."

Peter hummed as he tore his eyes away from your intertwined hands and back on your sprawled out upper-half on the table. He pursed his lips, gaze on the dip and valleys of your beautiful but stressed face. His brain grew at odds the more he took in your deep frown—one he always hates seeing no matter the reason—as he raked his thoughts on what he could possibly do to help without having the trouble of revealing his secret to you.

"But it's genuinely impossible to talk to him—"

"You could send him an email," Peter blurted before he gave himself time to properly process his words. Hell, he didn't even get to weigh the odds and dangers of his proposition. But now that it already slipped out his mouth—

Shit. I don't think this is a good idea...

Your eyes snapped open as you gaped up at him, brows deeply furrowed as you wondered, "Spider-Man...has an email?"

Too late to back out now, Parker.

"Well, all the Avengers do, under Stark Industries to be specific," Peter said in the most nonchalant way he can muster. "Since, you know, Stark tech in their suits, modifications, upgrades, what color they want it as, etcetera, it's how they talk about those stuff."

You abruptly sat up, dropping his hand as you laid both of your palms flat on the table, eyes now twinkling with hope and excitement. "You think he'd actually see it?"

"Yeah, not many people know about it so," he trailed off with a shrug, opening his book again and flicking through the pages.

You leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze as you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. "How'd you know?"

Peter scoffed with a shake of his head, never looking away from his book given that you'd notice his lie right off the bat if he does so. "I don't know Y/N, probably because I work there," he pointed out. Well, technically it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either.

"And you're giving me it?"

He shrugged, finally meeting your gaze. "I don't see why not? As long as you don't share it around or sell it," Peter warned, shooting you playful glare.

"Yes! Oh my—you are the best," you exclaimed excitedly, jumping out of your seat and rounding the table to give him a back hug. "You're a lifesaver Pete, thank you." With one last squeeze, you pulled away and swiftly snatched your bag, feet in a rush as you treaded towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked bemusedly.

"Sending the email! Hopefully I can talk to him tonight!" you called back to him.

Peter can't help but shake his head at you with a laugh, "I haven't even given you the email!"

"Just send—"

Sssh!

"Oops, sorry," you whispered, finger over your lips as you rushed back to his side with a bright smile. "Just text me it please? Love you," you hummed, hand landing on his shoulder as you leaned down to place a swift but sweet kiss on his cheek.

The skin where your lips once were quickly turned pink, Peter's heart skipping countless beats at that four-letter word, unable to conjure any response the more he thinks about the actual weight of the warmth that's grown in his chest. He's heard you say it to him many times before of course, but despite holding a different meaning—one with friendship laced around it—it never fails to make Peter's heart soar.

Albeit wanting it to mean something else, something more, Peter knows he shouldn't. Always quick to silence his heart on screaming for more given that it wasn't ideal, for your sake. He always reminds himself that he already feels utmost content with what he has with you now, content with the love you make him feel even if it's only to an extent.

It was enough, for your sake.

Nothing but adoration coated his features as his eyes followed your every movement. His heart grew even more when you beamed at him once you pulled away, ruffling his hair playfully before hurrying out of the library, shooting him one last smile and a wave before disappearing from sight.

Peter can't wipe his own grin off his face, just the sight of your beautiful smile and your joyful eyes, easily contagious on his part. But then realization dawned on him and the curve slipped away, replaced by a frown laced with panic as he pulled out his phone to check the time.

"Shit."

He quickly gathered up his things and rushed out of the library, taking the back door out of the building to the nearest alley. Peter had his eyes glued to his screen the whole time as he quickly made a fake but believable enough email before sending it to you.

***

"Heard you were looking for me?"

You let out a yelp, jumping a few inches back as you spun around towards the direction of the voice. A hand flew over your chest the moment your eyes landed on a figure, shock befalling you as you froze. He was squatted down on the ledge of the rooftop of your apartment building, red and blue faint under the night sky. "Oh my—uh, hi," you squeaked, eyes blinking rapidly to see if what you're seeing was actually real.

The wind was blowing cold, your black pants, plain t-shirt and jean jacket doing just enough to minimize it. The sound of the streets of Manhattan was echoing below, very busy but faint due to your distance from the ground, enabling you to still hear his voice loud and clear when he spoke again.

"Hi, I'm Spider-Man," he introduced as he offered you his hand, masked eyes trained on you as you cautiously walked towards him.

"I know. I'm Y/N," you said, hesitantly reaching out to take his hand, the material of his suit rough against your palm as you shook it. You were in absolute awestruck, eyes glowing with wonder as you did nothing but gape at him.

"I know," he said and you can practically hear his smile behind the mask. He gave your hand a squeeze, the odd feeling that coursed through your bones made you tilt your head at him in mere curiosity, brows furrowed in utter confusion. Mr. Spider-Man swiftly cleared out his throat, eyes casted down as he quickly let go of your hand. "It's on your email," he added hastily.

"Oh, yeah," you muttered. A few seconds passed and you just stood there, staring at him like some star struck fan as you rubbed your hands together in both the cold and slight nerves. After a few seconds more, you finally spoke, "Wow, okay, I didn't expect for you to actually show up."

You don't know where to actually begin.

The first thought you had after sending the email was that he'd never actually see it, or if he does, he'll simply ignore it. You had been ready to wait out in the cold for a couple hours, anticipated the letdown to be frank. Yet here he was, the Spider-Man, right in front of you who, amazingly, even arrived right on time.

Spider-Man was making you nervous.

Normally, you have no problem with doing interviews. It is a form of research after all, and being on the debate team, you've done countless of it. But right now feels different.

Maybe it was the fact that he was a fucking superhero. He's someone who has actually done quite a lot and has probably seen and experienced other worldly things just as much if not more. Or maybe it's the fact that you simply don't know where this will go from here.

Will it do well that you'd get to ask proper questions and get answers that would truly help or will he get cocky and rude that this interaction would only end up being a waste of time?

Despite being famous, he was a complete mystery to everyone. The person behind the mask was wholly unknown and that itself makes you very nervous.

With a shrug, he said, "Well, wouldn't pass helping a friend."

"Are you making your voice deep?" you asked, the sound of his voice a little too...computerized for it to be normal.

He nodded. "Voice modulator, it helps keep my secret identity, well, a secret."

"Oh, yeah, figured."

You stayed quiet again after that, arms crossing over your chest as you kept your gaze steady on him, features coated with a mixture of emotions from confusion, amazement, curiosity and everything in between.

He chuckled softly, probably noticing your painfully obvious shyness. "Got questions for me?" he prodded.

You blinked a few times before frantically nodding, recalling how you specifically said in the email that you just wanted to ask a few questions. You then took out your phone, showing him the voice recording app and asked, "Is this okay?"

Spider-Man tilted his head at you with a soft hum.

"Yeah, I trust you with it."

You smiled.

The pressure and nerves turned lighter on your shoulders as you somewhat felt more comfortable...safe around him. And there's just something about the fact that he trusts you that warms your bones. It's like he's certain you only have his best intentions in mind, as if he knows you weren't in this for a selfish gain. It's really comforting in a sense, makes you feel confident that you're on the right track.

It makes you feel good about yourself.

With a soft nod, you hit record, words of curiosity slipping out of your lips soon after. "Those webs, do they come out from you?"

"No, they don't," he chuckled, taking out a vile from his wrist and then handing it to you. "That is what you call web fluid and I make them."

You gingerly took it in your hands, eyes scanning it briefly before you gave it back. "Impressive."

"Thanks. So, the fluid is like the bullets and these right here"—he showed you the black bands on his wrists with his hands open—"Are the web shooters that make me well, shoot webs. Like so," he explained as he pressed the button on his palm, the webs streaming out soon after and snatching an empty can on the far corner before it landed back in his hand.

You pursed your lips with a nod. "So, you can make weapons," you said with a certain tone in your voice that caused him to shift in his place.

"I—uh, no?" he stuttered, placing the can back on the ground loudly and in a not-so-subtle way. "I will never build a nuclear bomb if that's what you're wondering," he rushed when you narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion.

"Didn't say anything about a nuclear bomb," you pointed out with a tilt of your head.

"I-I'm, uh, I didn't—"

"I'm just messing with you," you cut him off with a soft laugh, your nerves diminishing swiftly at how he seemed to be a little shy and awkward but in an endearing way. It makes him appear more human, normal. "You're so tense, just relax."

"Yeah…okay," he breathed out. He turned around to face the city, going from crouching to fully sitting down on the ledge, hands folding on his thighs as he looked at you over his shoulder. He jerked his head, gesturing for you to come closer to which you gladly did.

You leaned on the concrete with soft hum, placing your phone beside his thigh so it was now between you both. You scanned the beautiful city with a content smile, the view never ceasing to amaze you despite seeing it too many times before. The rooftop is your best escape after all. It was nice to be far away from everything, even if it's only for a moment. Nothing but peace coats you whenever you're up here, may it be from the gentle gush of the wind or the bright shine of the moon that spreads throughout the blanket of black sky.

With a sigh, you looked up at the mask man beside you. Flustered was what you came to be when you noticed that he was already staring at your face, the white and black of his eyes looking somewhat soft, and you swear he looked almost as if he's smiling behind the mask. Warmth was quick to coat your body, a stark contrast to the cold breeze as you cleared your throat, causing him to swiftly look away.

"Sorry, I'm just a little nervous," he chuckled shyly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Really want to impress you."

You felt your cheeks heat up, a timid smile growing on your lips as you shrugged. "No need to impress anyone, let alone me," you said. "Just be yourself Spider-Man."

Oh, I truly wish I could just be myself right now Y/N—

"Okay," Peter hummed with a smile.

"Are you sure this is fine?" you asked, gesturing towards your phone in the middle of you two. "I don't want to intrude or make you feel uncomfortable by recording our conversation."

Peter's heart grew warm as his smile widened. Always considerate you are, too kind for your own good. If it was someone else, he probably would've had loads of pictures taken by now. Or maybe even a hidden camera somewhere to catch him at the wrong moment. Many of which would then be posted on the internet to spread like wildfire. Not that he minded the photos and videos but it's off putting sometimes, especially when they churn out not-so-good headlines to match.

"Promise me you won't share or sell it?" he joked, mentally cursing himself soon after once he realized it's the same words he said to you earlier in the library. Although he felt a wash of relief right away when you didn't seem to notice as you only flashed him a sweet smile in return.

"I promise," you hummed, turning to face him as you leaned sideways on the ledge. "What other superpowers do you have?"

"Enhanced abilities such as super strength, I can run fast and heal fast. Dialed up senses meaning I can see, hear, smell and feel things on another level. I'm...sticky, meaning I can climb up walls and stick to stuff like how a spider would. And oh, spider sense," Peter elaborated, watching with amusement as he saw your eyes change from awe, confusion, to impressed and back to confusion.

"Spider sense?"

"I can sense danger and threats when it's coming, like I feel a tingle."

"That's really cool," you hummed, hand rapidly lifting up as you took a fast and big swing towards his shoulder. He caught your fist in his hand way before you could even have the chance to land a punch.

Peter shook his head at you in pure amusement, giving your fist a squeeze before he let it go. "That wasn't so successful now was it?" he chuckled.

"It was worth a try. Just testing the waters to see if it would trigger your 'spidey sense' as you call it," you laughed, quoting the two words with your fingers teasingly.

"It didn't because one, anyone could see that punch from a mile away, and two, I said dangers and threats," he paused, tilting his head at you adoringly. "And you're not really a threat."

"Hey, I can be threatening," you scoffed, chin up with your chest puffed out.

Peter couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips. "I'm sure you can. I bet you can handle yourself well, especially with proper training." He took in a deep breath before saying, "But that's not really what I meant."

"What did you mean?

"That I feel safe around you."

"Oh." You blinked at him a few times before you fully broke his gaze, suddenly turning bashful as your eyes watched the busy street below where the cars and people were scurrying about in the cold New York night. Squaring your shoulders, you added, "Well, for what it's worth, I feel safer around you now too."

Peter felt his heart leap out of his chest, a proud smile erupting on his face, gaze dropping on the ground—or lack thereof—shyly as red started to dust his cheeks. "That's worth a lot," he hummed, lifting his head at the same time you did, your eyes locking immediately.

You beamed at him sweetly, shifting on your feet before letting out a breath. "Right, onto a more serious question," you paused, gesturing at the whole of him with your hand. "Why exactly are you doing this?"

"What do you think is the reason why I'm doing what I do?" he asked back, eyes trained on your face for a moment before he looked straight ahead. He can feel your orbs burning a hole on the side of his face, your brows furrowed in a way that Peter could do nothing but grin widely. He always found your thinking face endearing.

"I don't know, could be a lot of things. Could be money, glory, revenge, bragging rights, most likely fame?" you suggested.

Peter shook his head, keeping his gaze on the building across. "If I was doing this for fame, you'd think I would've shown my face by now?"

"Touché."

"But no," he breathed out, eyes now trained on his feet as he swung them aimlessly on the edge of the building. "I just want to help to the best of my abilities. I feel like I was given these powers, me, for a reason. If I'm not going to use it for a good cause then what's the point of having them?" Peter turned to face you, holding your gaze securely, even behind the mask as he continued, "If I'm not going to help out the little guy, even if I can easily do that then, who will? I can't simply watch the world fall apart when I could've done something to prevent it or provided a little bit of help, you know?"

You nodded. "With great power comes great responsibility."

Peter cracked a smile. "Yeah, exactly," he hummed, gaze dropping to stare at his gloved hands, turning it over before clasping it together with a sigh.

"How do you feel about the people who think you're not on the good side? That you have some hidden agenda?"

"I pity them if I'm being honest."

"How so?"

"I mean, if you're at a point in life where you can't accept that someone is helping simply for the sake of helping, then you've must've gone through a lot to not trust easily," Peter started, fingers fidgeting with his web shooters before he met your gaze. "We've been taught to always think that there's an incentive in all that we do. If you give, you have to receive and vice versa. But why can't we simply give and not expect something in return? People are so accustomed to the whole give and take thing that when someone just gives, it feels unfamiliar. That's why they get suspicious. They overthink that surely I'm doing this for something else when there's really no other reason than simply wanting to help.

"I also get it. It's a cruel world we're living in unfortunately where we have to keep one eye open. But I wish people would begin to accept that someone is helping to make the world a better place by simply wanting to have a safe and better place. No hidden agenda whatsoever," he finished, brown orbs catching sight of how your smile grew wider, brighter.

"You're a wise man," you said with an appreciative nod. "With a really good heart too."

"Thanks. I try my best."

"I'd say you've probably lived a life, traveled the world, seen so many new things, been to space," you trailed off, raising a brow at him in question.

"Yeah, you could say that," he chuckled.

"Are you a billionaire? Are you a prince in disguise or maybe a king? Are you a lawyer? Or maybe some kind of mythical being like Thor?" you poked.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he shrugged. "Nah, I'm just a kid from Queens."

Shit.

Peter you fucking idiot. You absolute dumbass—

"Huh, I've got a best friend who's from Queens," you muttered, voice barely above a whisper but thanks to his enhanced hearing abilities, of course he heard it loud and clear.

Peter bit the insides of his cheek to stop his smile, even though you weren't going to see it anyway since he has a mask on. I know you do. "Come on, I want to show you something," he said aloud instead, standing up to his full height with his hand out for you to take.

You narrowed your eyes at his outstretched palm before you looked up at his masked face. "Are you going to kidnap me now and sell my organs?"

Peter threw his head back with a hearty laugh, the sound ringing in the air as he shook his head at you. "No, I'm going to show you New York from a different angle," he said, smiling widely as he leaned over closer, hand open wide. "Do you trust me?"

"You did not just quote Aladdin," you laughed, taking your phone off the ledge to stop recording before shoving it in your pocket.

Peter shrugged with a sheepish grin. "What if I did?"

You smiled widely at that, placing your hand securely in his and giving it squeeze. "Then yes, I trust you."

Peter hoisted you up on the ledge with ease, both of you now standing side by side on the edge of the building. A small squeak came out of you when you curiously looked down and saw that the ground was actually very far away, your grip on his hand tightening when all you could think of was splat. He chuckled, moving closer to you as he lifted your arm and placed it over his shoulders, your eyes snapping back up to look at his masked face.

"Is this okay?" he hummed, his arm wrapping around your waist strongly once you gave him a nod approval. "Hold tight," Peter said.

"Please don't let me go," you whispered, worry-filled eyes boring into his own while a mixture of both nervousness and excitement coated your features.

"Never."

Peter jumped.

You screamed.

The strong gush of the wind swiftly hit your face, hair whipping around as your grip around him tightened starkly. You felt your stomach churn while you swung in the air, passing one building to another, going high up and then dropping back down in a swooping motion. Your legs wrapped itself around his waist almost instinctively, all in fear of falling to your death.

"This was a bad idea!" you screeched, head buried on the crook of his neck, eyes shut tight ever since your feet left the ledge.

"Open those eyes Y/N! You're missing all the fun!" Peter laughed, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. He felt you slowly pull your head away from his neck, lids inching open one by one until you finally gawked at the wonderful lights and blaring colors of the city in awe.

Your mouth fell agape the more you took the sight in, the city a blur but somewhat beautiful in its own unique way. You loosened your grip around his shoulder just so you could lift a hand up in the air, a satisfied hum vibrating in your chest as you felt the cold wind brush through your fingertips in the most comforting way.

That's when you let out a gleeful laugh.

Peter felt his heart melt ten times over at the beautiful sound. His cheeks were hurting from grinning ear to ear the more he took in how you're having the best time.

You looked absolutely breathtaking, the city lights casting a glow over your features, eyes holding nothing but pure bliss and wonder with that lovely, bright smile of yours to match.

The city was pretty sure, Peter loves seeing it at night whenever he does his patrol. But you, you were gorgeous, a stunning sight that he could never ever have enough of. You never do fail to make his heart stop, never fail to take his breath away, never fail to make his limbs all weak and Peter found himself falling deeper despite trying his hardest not to.

"This is so cool—no!" you shrieked, eyes wide with fear as you shot high up midair and went free falling for a few horrifying seconds before you landed back into his embrace, slotting right into his chest. Peter laughed as you quickly went to latch onto him, your grip viselike with both arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. He wrapped an arm around you securely as his other hand held tightly on the web, both of you now face to face as you continued to swing in the air.

You lifted your head up to look at him fully, faces now inches apart as you stared right into each other's eyes. Peter felt his heartbeat quicken when your orbs held a certain spark, as if you could see the actual him right behind the mask. His eyes fell on your lips, slightly parted as you gawked at him. They look really soft, very pretty, inviting.

He gulped.

At that point Peter wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed that he was wearing a mask. Because if he wasn't, then he would've already done something he might regret—or not—later on, especially with the consequences that would come with it.

But when you opened your mouth to start to speak, that's when Peter grew even more nervous on what could possibly be running in your thoughts.

Did you figure it out?

You didn't get a chance to say whatever it was you wanted to say when all movements stopped, Peter releasing you from his hold right as you felt your feet touch the ground.

"That was mean," you said once you gently pulled away from him. "You said you wouldn't let me go," you added, adjusting your hair and clothes before you shot him a pout.

"I'm sorry, I got a little distracted," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy chuckle. It was a full on accident, mind preoccupied by all things you that he unconsciously loosened his grip around your waist which in turn, made you slip out of his grasp. "I'll always catch you though."

You pursed your lips at him with a tilt of your head. "If I hadn't known better I'd say you're flirting with me, Spider-Man."

Peter felt the heat rush up to his face in a split second. "I-I'm, uh—"

"Whoa," you cut him off once your eyes landed on the gorgeous city of Manhattan but much farther away and wider as you stood on a much higher building. The tall structures that surrounded the scene seemed like toys with their size, the lights that gleamed looking like little specks of stars floating in the air with the Empire State Building right at the middle of it all. "I haven't seen it this high up before," you said, giving him a swift glance before your eyes were back on the scenery. "It's really beautiful."

"Yeah, very beautiful," Peter sighed, brown orbs never leaving your features, his heart thumping in his chest, loud and fast, each beat all for you.

He walked over to where you were stood until your arms were brushing against each other. You spared him a glance, your smile wide and soft in a way that made his heart grow warm. But then you leaned your head on his shoulder and Peter swore he might as well die from a heart attack. If it were you with the enhanced senses, then you would probably catch him out quickly with how frantic and loud each beat his heart was making.

It wasn't new to him of course. You've always been the affectionate kind. And being your best friend, he's always at the receiving end of those affections.

But tonight feels a little different.

The fact that you feel safe around him without having to see his face, when all you see is Spider-Man, it makes his heart melt. The simple fact that you're comfortable when you're near him, that you can feel that you can trust him is really reassuring in a sense. It's like your heart is already familiar with who he is despite your brain—or your eyes—telling you that the person you're standing with right now is a complete stranger.

It feels really special when looking at it in that perspective, it makes Peter feel special.

Sudden boldness coursing through his bones, Peter snaked an arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze in the process. It took every ounce of his superhuman strength to keep his legs upright when you inched closer to his side, a soft breath coming out of you, a satisfied one. His eyes glowed with utmost adoration as it traced your features, from the soft smile playing on your lips to the twinkle in those irises as you kept your gaze on the stunning city in front. It baffles him how his heart quickened it's pace even more, just the sight of you in pure bliss. God he was so in love with you and you don't even have an ounce of clue.

Just say it out loud, tell her.

No, I can't. For her, I can't.

"It's getting late. I should probably head back home," you hummed, lifting your head off his shoulder to look at him. Peter nodded, arm dropping to your waist as he crouched down a little, just so you could sling an arm around his shoulder. "No dropping me this time," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him teasingly.

Peter laughed with a nod. "Yes ma'am."

The swing back to your apartment building took no time.

Despite wanting to drag the night out a little longer, Peter knew he can't do that to you when your debate was tomorrow, especially among countless papers and homework he knows you need to get to. Plus, he has his own errands he needs to tend to as well. Both of you landed on the ledge smoothly with you laughing at some bad joke he made. Peter helped you down like the gentle man that he is and giving your hand one last squeeze before he lets it go.

"Thank you for tonight," you said as you turned to his figure that remained standing on the ledge. Nothing but a wide, genuine smile played on your lips as you added, "Everything of tonight."

"Don't mention it," Peter said sweetly. "I had a really great time with you—shit. I hope that doesn't sound creepy or anything but I really did enjoy tonight, you know, our conversation, getting close with you and feeling you close to me while we were swinging...okay, I'll stop talking."

You let out the sweetest giggle that Peter could do nothing but swoon, his eyes softening as he tilted his head at you with the most adoring smile he could ever have the pleasure of wearing.

"I had a great time being close with you, too," you hummed, holding his gaze for a moment before you casted your eyes at the ground shyly. Shifting from your heels and toes, you pointed towards the rooftop door, before timidly meeting his eyes again. "I should probably—"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Peter chuckled, shooting you a curt nod. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Spider-Man," you said, swiftly turning around as you went towards the door, giving him one last glance over your shoulder when you pulled it open. He gave you a wave in response, your smile widening before you slipped inside and closed the door right behind you.

Peter had the stupidest, most shit-eating grin on his face that he don't think he could ever wipe off, eyes fluttering close as he spread his arms wide. With a satisfied breath, he slowly leaned backwards, letting gravity take its course as pure euphoria coated every fiber of his being.

Never has he ever felt such joy, freedom and utmost content as Peter lets himself fall.

***

"Hello there."

Peter looked up from his notes only to be met by a set of green eyes, completely taking him by surprise since it wasn't the pair of orbs he was expecting—and really excited—to see. It confused him to the core as to why one of the most popular girls on campus was sitting down right in front of him in the library.

"Hi?" he said, word coming out more as a question than a statement as he furrowed his brows.

"Peter right? Marjorie," she introduced, hand coming across the table to which he shook gingerly.

"Yeah, that's me." Peter smiled shyly, the crease on his forehead deepening the more he raked his brain as to why she's talking to him in the first place. Of course he knows who she is, the whole school does. Hell, he can already hear the whispers of gossip echoing about all because she's sitting right at his table, or as a matter of fact, simply because she's in the room. That's how big of a deal she is.

Marjorie moved forward, both her arms resting on the table with her bust right on top of it, the low cut top she wore doing so little to hide it, cleavage right up his face. Peter was quick to look away with a clear of his throat, eyes trained on his notes as a blush coated his cheeks.

She suddenly brought two fingers under his chin, prompting him to look back up. "Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you pretty boy," she purred, a sly smirk growing on her lips when his blush deepened. She inched closer until she was fully leaning over the table and into his space, her thumb running across his chin teasingly. Peter's eyes grew wide in downright surprise and confusion, keeping his gaze locked with hers and never looking anywhere else—mostly not looking down—as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Anyway, I heard you're really smart and I happen to find you really cute too. Not just a pretty face, aren't you Peter. So, I was wondering—"

Peter could feel you coming, hear you even, that all too familiar sound of your giddy and specifically patterned footsteps ringing in his ears. And dare he say it, he could smell your shampoo, the scent gradually growing stronger which was a clear indication that you were getting closer to the library.

He was left downright confused when you only stopped at the door, your heartbeat quickening by a mile as you stilled. Peter grew worried at the uneven sound of your breathing, all shallow and labored, the first thing that happens whenever you're in slight panic. He removed his eyes briefly from the girl across him only to see you turn on your heel in one swift motion and then completely disappearing from sight.

What was wrong? Where were you going?

"I, uh, I'm really sorry but I need to go." Peter quickly pulled his face away from Marjorie's hand, standing up from his seat all while shoving his things in his backpack. "I-It was nice meeting you," he said with a small smile before he sprinted towards the door.

He didn't see you anywhere near the building, didn't see you anywhere on campus at all.

It worried him even more when you ignored his texts and calls for the rest of the day. He knew your schedule but somehow, the moment he reached your class, you were already gone. Or maybe you hadn't even attended class in the first place. There was no other way of him knowing your whereabouts and he was growing really concerned by the second as to what had happened. So, he went with the last option he could think of on finding you quicker.

Peter slipped his mask on with a sigh, the sun already going down when he decided to try and pay you a visit in a very different set of clothes.

***

"Hi."

"What the fu—" You jumped with a yelp as you swiftly turned to face him, hand over your chest to try and calm your heart as you gaped at his masked face. "What are you doing here?"

Three times he's passed your apartment building and you weren't home. But by the fourth try, Peter's worry could only grow some more when he saw you out on the rooftop. You never stay out on the rooftop unless something was deeply bothering you.

"Wanted to know how the debate went," Peter reasoned, not the main agenda but it wasn't entirely a lie either.

"Well, my team won so that's great," you sighed dejectedly, leaning down to rest your elbow on the ledge while your chin landed on your palm.

"You don't seem enthusiastic? You still don't think I'm a friend?"

"No, no, I do now. It's just things in here." You tapped your temple, letting out another sigh when you brought your finger down to your chest, right where your heart is supposed to be and added, "Or in here rather."

Peter frowned. "What's up?"

"Who knew Spider-Man was into gossip," you teased, turning to flash him a small smile.

"Just curios," he hummed with a casual shrugged, settling himself down on the ledge, facing you this time around. "Besides, it's always better to let it out."

"It's just boy problems," you breathed out, eyes back on the orange tinted sky.

Peter felt a lump grow in his throat, heart sinking to his stomach at the thought of you thinking about another guy. He was quick to scold himself, telling his mind not to be selfish as he cleared his throat.

"Hit me."

"Well, there's this boy I like—" you stopped yourself, lips pursed as you started to fidget with your fingers, thinking face that Peter knows so well now in full play. "Actually no, I've been in love with him for as long as I can remember," you admitted.

The ache in Peter's heart grew sharper, painful and overwhelming that he felt his body run cold. His throat grew dry that he could do nothing but nod his head with a hum to tell you he's still following.

"He's amazing, greatest guy I've ever had the pleasure of knowing and he has never failed to show that he cares about me. He's always there for me, whenever he can anyway with his hectic life. And he makes me really happy." A love-struck smile grew on your lips, eyes glowing with adoration, face holding that look of love as you bask in the sunset. The golden glow made you look even more stunning, but Peter wasn't able to fully appreciate your beauty when his mind was too preoccupied with jealous thoughts. But a second later, the joy that's coated your features slowly faded off, now replaced by one with worry.

Peter tried his best to keep his tone steady. Despite having the voice modulator on, he knows it will pick up even the slightest shake and uncertainty. "But?"

"I truly can't figure out if he's acting the way he is because he feels the same way or all of it is just an act of friendship," you paused, taking in a deep breath as you shifted on your feet. "There are moments where I do think it's more but then there are moments where I see him with another girl and I start questioning it again. Like, am I reading things wrong? Am I getting too ahead of myself by thinking he could possibly feel the same way?" You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. "I don't even know how to convey my own feelings—"

"You could just tell him," Peter blurted to cut you off, not wanting to hear any more as the piercing pain in his chest could only deepen the more you talk about it. He's already got the drift anyway, no need for you to explain any further.

You turned to look at him fully with furrowed brows. "Just like that?"

Peter nodded. "You are an amazing girl Y/N," he said, nothing but utmost sincerity coating his voice. He just wants you to find someone who's going to make you happy and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. It seems like you've found exactly that, who was he to take that away from you by being bitter? Besides, Peter has long accepted that that someone is never going to be him. "Whoever this guy you're in love with, he's pretty lucky. If he doesn't see that then it's his loss. And if he doesn't feel the same way, then he's not the right guy for you because you deserve someone who'll love you unconditionally."

"You giving out relationship advice now too? A sideline if you're not saving the world?" you joked, only earning a shrug and a soft laugh from him. "But thank you." You flashed him a small but grateful smile.

"Always happy to help," he said. "I better get going, got a city to look after." Peter forced a smile, a useless tactic given that there was no way for you to see it anyway. He stood up to his full height before adding, "Congrats on the debate." He didn't even wait for a response when he swiftly jumped and swung as far away from your building as possible.

The second he landed on top of an abandoned warehouse, Peter immediately pulled his mask off. He couldn’t bear to leave it on a second longer or else he was going to suffocate. Sharp breaths escaped him as his back hit the brick wall, eyes screwed shut to stop any tear from slipping out of his burning eyes. He tried his hardest to calm his frantic heart, to minimize the pain by shoving his selfish thoughts away. He forced himself to think about you and your well-being instead, tried to convince himself that this was a good thing.

He doesn't doubt that this guy you're smitten with is a great one. The way you speak about him just screams it. Add that to you being great at judging character, then he knows you're in good hands. Despite it hurting like a ton of punches in the chest, Peter still hoped that whoever this guy is, he'll catch you in his arms openly and shower you with the truest love because you deserve nothing but. The pain would be worth it if he gets to see you be happy.

Peter knows that whoever this guy is, he would treat you rightly, give you everything you want and need in a way that Peter never could.

Slowly opening his eyes, he lets out a calming breath, mind slowly slipping at ease the more he thinks about how happy, content and safe you'll be with this guy if ever it will work out.

It hurts, unbearably, but his sliver of pain in exchange for your utmost happiness? Then Peter will gladly endure it.

***

The next day, Saturday noon, was when you finally decided to answer Peter's texts from the day before. You apologized for ghosting him, said you got preoccupied and left it at that. And then you asked if he wanted to go for a little stroll in the park, too make it up to him. Peter could never say no to you so here you were, side by side under the afternoon sun, aimlessly walking around a nearly deserted park outskirts of the main city.

"Why'd you disappear yesterday?" he asked, both his hands in his pockets while yours were looped in his. "I saw you stop by at the library but you didn't come and say hi."

You shrugged, eyes trained on the pavement as you kicked at the few rocks that were lying around. "Something came up," you simply said.

Peter can't help but feel a little sting when you didn't elaborate further. Well, he already knew what had happened but that was as Spider-Man. He was hoping you'd tell him too, as Peter Parker, your long time best friend.

"Thank you for the email by the way," you spoke again when he stayed quiet, lifting your head up to spare him a bright smile. "We wouldn't have won the debate if it wasn't for you."

"Winning the debate was all on you and that incredible brain of yours. I'm not going to take credit for that," he chuckled as he shot you a knowing look. Eyes back in front, Peter added, "But I'm always here to help. That's what best friends are for."

You hummed, letting go of his arm as you skipped ahead and treaded towards the nearest tree. "What's up with you and Marjorie?" you asked, settling down on the grass, legs straight with your right ankle over you left as you leaned back against the trunk comfortably.

"What's up with what?" Peter followed you with a deep crease between his brows, sitting right beside you soon after, mirroring your position under the shade.

"You tell me, you were almost kissing when I saw you in the library so," you trailed off, picking at the shreds of greenery, throwing it purposelessly as you still avoided his gaze. "Are you two a thing now?"

Peter shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "First off, we were not almost kissing and second, no, we're not a thing," he clarified, head turned for him to see you clearly. "I didn't even get to hear what she wanted because I immediately left," he chuckled.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "You bailed on her in the library?"

"Sort of?" Peter scrunched his nose.

"That's a very bold move, Parker," you giggled, bumping your shoulder with his teasingly. "Most guys would've died to just be in the same room as her."

Peter let out a hearty laugh, shrugging his shoulders and said, "Well, I guess I'm not like most guys."

Marjorie was pretty, Peter won't deny that, but she could never amount to you. Even right now, when you're just sitting beside him in casual jeans and sweater, a simple but very charming smile on your lips as you looked up at the clouds, Peter was already swooning ten times over. Then comes the memory of you looking so breathtaking while he took you around the city. The stunning glow on your face as you stared at the scene in awe was still deeply engraved in Peter's mind, and he knows for a fact that that image will never leave him. Not that he was complaining anyway.

"So, how did your meeting with Spider-Man go?" he asked after a few moments of silence. A shy smile slowly grew on your lips, one that made Peter lift a brow at you in suspicion.

"He's really cool," you breathed out, your grin growing wider as you kept your gaze steadily trained at the blue sky. "He's a gentleman too, a little shy and awkward but in a cute way. Plus, very wise and smart, like lived-a-life wise and genius smart. He then took me to swing around the city which was awesome," you gushed, a dreamy glow coating your face as you met Peter's eyes. "That night is going to be a night I'll remember for the rest of my life for sure."

Peter couldn't help the smug grin that grew on his face. "If I hadn't known better I'd say you have a crush on Spider-Man," he teased, wriggling his brows at you.

"Shut up," you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

"It's obvious. You have that dreamy look on your face when you talk about him," he poked even more, nudging you with his elbow playfully.

"No, I don't," you laughed as you pushed him away. "Besides, I've got my eyes on someone else already."

Peter's heart sunk.

He found himself playing with the sleeves of his hoodie as he avoided your gaze, trying his hardest to keep his feelings at bay before you'd notice the change in his demeanor. "Care to share with your best friend?" he offered, wondering if you're finally willing to tell him about this mystery guy.

You stayed quiet, eyes fluttering close as you rested your head on his shoulder. Peter kept his gaze steady on you, everything else silent aside from the sound of the rustling leaves of the tree. But then you let out a nervous breath, heartbeat picking up the pace in a way that made Peter grow curious as to what's on your mind.

"I love you," you blurted out of the blue, a slight shake in your voice as you kept your eyes shut.

Although confused, Peter responded, "I love you too—"

"No, Peter," you paused, shifting in your place, pulling away from him as you sat up straighter. You finally met his brown orbs, all while countless of emotions swam in yours. "I love you," you whispered but with your voice firm and laced with pure sincerity, eyes holding his with such intensity that he quickly understood.

Peter stared at you in shock.

Slowly, but surely, everything started to click inside his head. The confession you shared with Spider-Man. When you said you'd seen this guy with another girl...the library. Was that why you quickly ran out? When you saw...almost kissing. Was that the reason why your heart suddenly grew at panic?

The guy you were gushing about so fondly, the same one you said you were in love with for a long time now, the one Peter was growing jealous of...it was him.

You were talking about him, Peter Parker.

He grew at a loss for words as he gawked at you, a smile growing on his lips as he felt his heart stop its course and then beat again but with twice the pace. Peter was so happy, over the universe as pure warmth filled him up from head to toe. The mere thought that you felt the same, it was too good to be true. But it was, he can see it clear in your eyes, it was real.

You love him.

But then his mood was quick to shift, smile slipping off his face, the warmth and joy that coated his bones replaced by fear and worry in a snap of a finger.

Peter's heart stopped at the sight in front of him.

You were getting held at knifepoint by the throat, tears brimming in your eyes, more of it coating your cheeks as you clawed at the arm that trapped you in their vise hold.

"P-Peter, I love you," you whimpered, gaze locking with his, hope slipping out of your orbs, the glow they once held getting dimmer by the second in a way that made a shiver run down his spine. Then Peter heard it, that piercing cackle he knew too well, his brown eyes meeting the yellow ones that glowed right behind you.

"You won't be able to save the love of your life, Spider-Man...or should I say, Peter Parker!"

Peter shook his head frantically as he yelled out your name, running at full speed to get to you only to be met by sudden darkness, your heart wrenching scream ringing in his ears followed by an agonizing sound of a body hitting the floor. Peter's blood ran cold as he frantically called out your name, over and over and over yet nothing but eerie silence echoed back at him.

And then he looked down, eyes landing on his trembling hands, each finger, both palms coated with blood, your blood.

You were gone.

"No, no, no," Peter rushed, voice quivering, hastily getting up on his feet as he looked at you worryingly. "You can't, Y/N. You can't love me."

It's not safe for you to love me.

The look of pure pain that ghosted over you features squeezed at Peter's heart, the pit in his stomach ever growing the more he thought of what he was about to do.

You stood up shakily to be level with him, deep frown on your lips, confusion and hurt swimming in your eyes as you asked, "Why'd you seem disgusted? You could just say you don't feel the same way."

"N-No, it's not that, neither of that because—" he sucked in a sharp breath, a hand running through his hair as he stared into your eyes longingly. "I do feel the same way about you."

You screwed your eyes shut as you shook your head. "Please don't lie to make me feel better, Peter," you pleaded, the break in your voice a sharp stab at his chest.

"When have I ever lied to you?" Peter internally winced at his bold and very false claim. Nothing but guilt filled his stomach given that he lies to you almost every day. He lies to you about his whereabouts, lies to you about his reasons. Peter lies to you every goddamn day by not telling you he's Spider-Man.

"Then why are your actions speaking something else then?" You gestured towards him as a whole, at the obvious distance that he's put between you two. Your eyes were slowly glossing up as you tried to simply understand what was going on.

Peter sighed, "I just don't want to hurt you okay? I—I don't want you to lose faith on the things you love because of me."

I don't want you to lose your life because of me.

"You're not making any sense," you said frustratedly.

"I'm not qualified to be a good boyfriend, Y/N. I won't be there with you all the time. I'd probably cancel on you on so many dates," Peter paused, meeting your eyes so you could see where he was coming from. "Hell, how many times have I bailed on you right now as your best friend huh? The amount of times I've left you on the street to go home alone?"

Your frown deepened as you held his eyes with nothing but sadness. "You had things going on Peter. You're being really unfair on yourself," you said.

"But you still don't deserve to be treated like that. Not now, not ever, no matter the reason," he pushed. "You deserve all those romantic clichés you're always dreaming of, you deserve to be treated like the queen that you are. You deserve the whole world Y/N, but I won't be able to give you that." Peter's voice broke, eyes holding too many emotions as he kept his gaze steady with yours. A painful task with all the pain and betrayal that's coated your eyes, utmost hurt glaring right at him. "Being with me won't be a fairytale."

Peter wasn't ignorant to the fact that you were a hopeless romantic. The countless rom-coms you've watched together have long ago proved that. The specific look in your eyes, that certain glimmer that washes over your face whenever the couple would kiss under the snow or even in the rain, or whenever they'd go on romantic walks on the beach or simply be in each other's arm whenever it's needed, Peter has memorized it. The little changes in your face whenever you see those clichés, he knows it like the back of his hand, knows how you're craving that kind of simple but true love.

But Peter can't give you any of that. Not right now.

"But I don't want a fairytale. I want to be with you. I don't care if we don't get to do any romantic clichés, being with you would surpass all of that, being with you would be more than enough. And I'm willing to try and make it work with whatever you've got going on, even if I have to make sacrifices in the process. Why can't you see that Peter?" you argued, hands clenched into fists on your sides in mere frustration.

Peter winced, the word sacrifice too heavy for him to hear. It was too painful to even fathom what you would possibly sacrifice for him, that you would probably even sacrifice all of it for him, including your life.

"No, no, please don't," he begged. "I don't want you to sacrifice anything for me. I would never want you to sacrifice those little things that make you smile. I don't want you to sacrifice your happiness for me." Peter shook his head in utter distress, palm rubbing at his face harshly that had the tip of his nose turn red. "And what happens then if it doesn't work? You'll only get disappointed. You'll only end up hating me. By then, I would have already put you through so much hurt all for nothing. I don't want that for you, Y/N."

"How'd you know that when you haven't even tried?" you whispered, bottom lip trembling. "It's like you're not even willing to try," you whimpered.

The second Peter saw the single tear that ran down your cheek he instinctively moved closer, hands reaching out, desperate to hold you, to get to tell you it's going to be alright, to apologize over and over for all the pain he has caused. But you stopped him with the palm of your hand. He felt his heart drop the moment you took a step back, shaking your head, bottom lip desperately caught between your teeth to silence your sobs.

Peter nodded gravely, his arms falling limp by his sides, fully understanding that you don't want him near. He doesn't blame you by one bit. "It's not that I'm not willing to, I just," he paused as he let out a shaky breath. "I don't trust myself to be with you. I don't trust myself with your heart because I know I will only end up breaking it. I'll only let you down." I don't trust myself to keep you safe from harm. I'll only fail you just like how I failed them. Peter confessed, brown orbs turning glossy, all from a mixture of pain and anger. He was so angry at himself for putting you through all this hurt, you don't deserve it, not even a single ounce of it.

Yes, he can try, see where this will go and do his best to be there for you at all times. But that's not set on stone, never a clear promise because he doesn't know what his tomorrow is going to bring. He doesn't know if he's staying in the neighborhood one minute and then entering another dimension the next. Being Spider-Man, he doesn't have a schedule where Peter can organize things as a matter of priority, being Spider-Man requires its own sets of sacrifices. Peter doesn't want you to feel the burden of those sacrifices, too.

He doesn't doubt that you would be understanding enough with whatever it is he has going on but that's exactly the problem. He knows you'll take the bare minimum, you'll put him first above your wants and needs. You're just too kind that way, too big of a heart. But Peter can't have that because it's just not right; it's not what you should settle for. You deserve all the dates, all the romantic walks, all the cuddles and kisses whenever you're down, all the stress free nights where you don't have to worry about him or wait for him to come back to you safe and unharmed, all the time and effort, you deserve all of it and more.

And right now, Peter can't give you what you deserve.

"Or maybe you just don't love me in the way you say you do," you accused, voice soft but the sting in it sharp.

"That's not fucking true because I love you with every ounce of my being," he protested in low growl, desperately tugging at his hair, frustrated that he can't tell you his full reasons as to why exactly he can't be with you. "I love you too much and I want to be with you so badly—"

"Then why is that not enough?" you stressed.

"You don't understand—"

"Then make me understand!" you snapped, tears running freely down your face as you looked at him with utmost despair.

"It's not that fucking simple Y/N!" Peter saw you flinch at the sudden boom of his voice, his heart cracking at the sight. He felt everything in him gradually break the more you stared at him with nothing but anguish. He took in a deep breath to calm himself before he slips out any words that he'll only regret later on. Blowing out his cheeks, he croaked, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just—"

Peter tried again and walked closer to you, trembling hands slowly reaching in mere need to feel your skin on his to ground him back, relief washing over him when you let him. He felt his heart warm up a little when you didn't pull away from his touch. But the broken sob you let out when he cupped your face, it was too excruciating for him to hear. The agonizing grip on Peter's heart tightened as he stared right into your eyes, the same ones that once held so much joy but was now flooded with tears and grief, their gorgeous glow snuffed out, all because of him.

"I'm just trying to protect you, please, trust me on that," he whispered, not even trying to hide the brokenness in his voice anymore, not even trying to hold back his tears as Peter pressed his forehead against yours.

The little droplets fell down on your face, his tears joining yours on your already damp skin. His thumb oh so tenderly tried to wipe them all away, wishing that it was as easy as that to ease up your pain, to take away your hurt so simply, but he knows it wasn't. It wasn't an easy choice and Peter knows it never will be.

"I love you so much, don't you ever, ever doubt that. B-But we can't. I'm really sorry Y/N, but we can't be together. I-I know this hurts right now, trust me, I know, but I will only make it much worse," he choked, shaking his head when you leaned into his palm with a broken breath. But you kept your eyes open, held his gaze with utter strength and Peter saw it, saw how you still looked at him with love in your eyes. Despite it being mixed with pain, it was there, clear and honest. God he did not fucking deserve you at all.

"You deserve someone who'd treat you the way you deserve to be treated, someone who'd truly show you how it feels to be loved completely and not just the bare minimum. You deserve someone who'd be so much better than me." Peter's voice broke at the end of his sentence, eyes still holding yours just so you could see the other things he can't put into words, the things he couldn't say aloud. He was desperately, silently pleading that you would see right through him, so you could understand why he has to do this. "Maybe in another life, we could make this work. But right now I'm asking, begging you not to love me, because I don't deserve that love, I don't deserve you at all."

Peter practically saw your heart shatter into pieces even more with the simple look in your eyes. It's an absolute torture to look into them right now, to see you be so broken that he found himself wishing that it was only him in pain instead. Even though the thought hurts, he wished you didn't love him. Even though it would be painful to endure, to live in a world where his feelings aren't reciprocated, Peter wished you didn't love him at all if it meant it was going to save you from heartbreak.

Better him in pain than you, always.

Breath unsteady, you closed your eyes with a small nod. "I guess this is it," you sniffled, placing your hands over his, your touch tender as you gave it a squeeze. But then you pulled it away from your face, Peter's hands slipping off your skin as you put some much needed distance between you two.

"Y/N—"

"I don't think we can go back to the way things were after this Peter. I'm sorry I just—I don't think I can handle it." You shook your head with a soft cry, forcing yourself to look back into those brown orbs as you whispered, "I can’t take it."

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes casted on the grass with a solemn nod as he croaked out, "Then I guess this is it."

"Goodbye, Peter."

He screwed his eyes shut at the sound of your broken voice, the heartbreaking sob that followed soon after made him let out a shaky breath. The sound of your footsteps felt like gunshots, each step taken like a bullet wounding him deep but Peter didn't dare to respond, didn't even dare to look up as you briskly walked away.

Peter had to keep his head down because he didn't have enough strength, didn't have the sense of control to stay still in his place. He knows that if he does as much as look up and catch your figure, he'll run after you, full speed. He'll pull you back into his arms; he'll pour all his love into one kiss as he holds you tightly. He'll keep you in his embrace for eternity the moment he gives in into his selfish needs. But he shouldn't. He needs to let you go, he has to let you walk away, for your sake.

The farther the sound of your footsteps got, the tighter his fists grew, fingernails digging into his palms as his breathing became labored, harsh. Peter swiftly turned around and took a hard swing at the tree once you were gone, glad that no one was around to see the whole thing shake from his strength. The bark cracked under his knuckle, leaves falling around him just as his knees gave out. A sharp, broken, frustrated scream escaped his lips as he buried his face in his hands, body shaking with all the anger and pain, trembling from his heart wrenching sobs.

Peter felt like his lungs were about to give out, emotions overflowing and scorching all while feeling numb just the same. But he kept reminding himself why he's doing this for him to get by, kept telling himself that being far apart was for the best.

For your sake.

***

The wind was cold on your face as you stood out on the rooftop to escape. The night breeze was slowly drying up your tears, much to no use since it's replaced by fresh ones the second after anyway. You don't know how long you've been crying for, but it wouldn't really matter. Your tears could run out but the pain in your heart could only deepen with each ticking second.

You were worried, angry, hurt, frustrated and confused all the same, unable to tie everything together as it all just seemed like a whole jumbled mess in your head, an incomplete puzzle.

You're not naïve to think that there wasn't more to this than he's letting on. You know he was hiding bits and pieces, his words completely restrained. You saw it in his eyes how he was battling his mind. You saw how he was struggling to not slip out whatever it was he was holding back. It was painful, all of it, from seeing him so distressed to him breaking your heart with his care-filled yet hurtful words.

You get where he's coming from, about wanting you to experience it all and more and not just the bare minimum. If it was a different circumstance, the things he said would've been sweet, how he wants you to have the world, how he wants you to live all those clichés just so he could see you smile, see you be happy. But right now, his words just felt bittersweet since you lost him in the process.

All those days of imagining all the different scenarios on what it would look like, how it would feel when he admits he feels the same way, not once did you ever expect that Peter Parker saying he loves you would feel like a knife to the heart.

What hurts even more is the fact that he is so keen on shutting any chance, and sliver of hope down. He won't even try, like you're not worth any risks at all. It makes you question how important you actually are to him, makes you question if he really does love you in the way he claims he does.

"Ahem."

"Shit!" you squeaked, head snapping towards the squatted figure, eyes landing on the familiar masked man who seemed to like the element of surprise. "You need to stop doing that!"

"Sorry, should've given you a heads up," he apologized, voice sounding a little hoarse, a little...different.

"No shit," you grumbled, hastily wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your sweater before you turned back to face him. "What's brought you here?"

"Was just in the neighborhood, saw you out here and I thought I'd swing by," he said with a casual shrug, gaze steady on the building across. You did just the same as you turned back in front, fingers drumming on the concrete ledge as you stood in silence for a couple minutes, his company soothing in some odd way. But you welcome it, makes you feel more present, stopping you from slipping neck deep into the chaos that's in your head.

"You okay? You seem a bit down," he said, voice still a little gruff, eyes everywhere else but at you.

"Well, I guess you can say that," you breathed out.

"Want to talk about it?"

You bit your bottom lip when it started to tremble, a fresh batch of tears brimming in your eyes. "I told him," you whispered. "You know that friend I talked to you about? I told him I'm in love with him and he wasn't too happy with it. He pushed me away, I—" You shook your head with a shaky breath, eyes now trained on the busy street below. You swallowed the lump in your throat before adding, "He said he loved me but he pushed me away."

The superhero beside you cleared out his throat, shifting in his place until he was fully seated down, his legs hanging off the side of the building. "Did he tell you why?"

"He said he wouldn't be a good boyfriend and that he won't be there for me when I need him. He said I deserved better, which doesn't make any sense because he's already been doing that, being there for me. And I have no doubt he'd treat me rightly but he doesn't seem to believe that himself," you whimpered, harshly wiping away the tears that rushed out your eyes, not wanting to seem pathetic for a boy, not to seem weak in front of the masked hero.

"Hey, you don't have to act all tough for me," he reassured, hand coming up to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze for a short but sweet moment. "It's okay to cry, it doesn't mean you're weak."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding, flashing him a sad smile for a second before you stared back at the city. "And I get he's got a lot going on, I do too but what's painful is that he's not even willing to try and see if it would work or not. It hurts to think that I'm willing to try and make ends meet, that I would do anything to be with him, but he won't do the same for me. It makes me feel like I'm not worth fighting for, that I'm not enough."

"That's not true, Y/N," he whispered, almost as if didn't want you to hear it, your brows furrowing a little as you spared him a glance. He was already looking at you but the second your eyes landed on his face, he swiftly looked away. "What else did he say?" he asked swiftly, voice louder with a clear of his throat.

"He said he can't be with me because he didn't want to hurt me which sounds so fucking stupid since he's hurting me now. Really badly," you whimpered, bottom lip quivering as you screwed your eyes shut, taking in deep calming breaths, steadying yourself before you opened them again.

"Maybe he is just trying to look out for you," he started, head tilted to the side as he looked at you with a shaky breath. "Sometimes the best way to protect someone is to keep them at a safe distance, to not get too close to them, both physically but mostly emotionally."

You frowned, gaze landing back on the white fabric that's covered his eyes. "You do that too? Push people away?"

"I don't want to but I have to," he sighed, looking down at his hands like they were too heavy, like they hold so much weight over his life, caused him so much trouble and pain. He stared at them for a few seconds more before his fingers started to pick at his web shooters. "It's the best way to keep the people I care about safe."

"Because of all the bad guys chasing after you?"

He let out a soft chuckle as he nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

You turned to face him fully, deep frown still etched on your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest. "Does that not get lonely?"

"It does." He nodded dejectedly, his eyes still looking elsewhere. "But it's better than seeing the ones I love get hurt because of the sole reason that they love me and that I love them just as much, if not more. Once they find out who I am, they're going to use that against me. They will always use that against me." The pain and hurt that coated his voice in his last sentence, you heard it loud and clear, makes you wonder what hardships he could've gone through to feel this way. "I think it's best to keep them away from this side of my world. I admit, it's really hard for me to stay away but I just keep reminding myself that all I'm doing is trying to keep them safe as much as I can," he paused, turning his head to finally look at you and you felt your heart stop at his next set of words.

"I'm just trying to protect them."

You felt as though that the clouds cleared up above your head, the puzzle pieces falling into place, completing itself as you slowly and finally tied everything together.

All those times he's suddenly in a rush to leave with a half-assed reason, the times where you'd catch a glimpse of the random cuts and bruises he had on his body, it all became so clear. And the night you first met Spider-Man, that odd feeling you had when he squeezed your hand the first time, it finally made sense. That same night, you felt as though you were crazy when you found yourself gravitating towards a complete stranger, a masked superhero at that. You found it ridiculous how you felt like you could trust him right off the bat. When you felt a vast feeling of being safe around him in so little time, initially you told yourself that it wasn't a good thing, that it was dangerous and you should tread carefully, but now the feeling just felt awfully familiar.

That's when you fully understood everything. The knots in your head gradually untangled itself as you gawked at him, mouth slightly agape in pure shock, tears welling up in your eyes for a different reason this time. All the things he's been through, all the pain and grief from the people he's lost, the weight that the world has put on his shoulders, it made your heartbreak. It made you feel so guilty that you weren't there for him through all that.

A new found weight settled itself in your chest because as you stared right at the mask, you saw him.

"Well, I need to go. You know, got a city to look after," he chuckled shyly as he looked away, his voice sounding starkly different from the previous encounters as it now held a sense of familiarity. "See you later."

With that, he jumped off, your eyes following the red in blue under the night sky, gradually getting smaller until disappearing from sight.

You smiled, a small one, didn't quite reach your ears but it was genuine. Your heart was still aching, mostly for him than for you, but it was also now filled with the greatest pride as you whispered, just under your breath,

"See you later, Peter Parker."

-:-:-:-:-

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

I hope you don’t mind this being exclusive for the Pro-Heroes!

(NSFW)

Papers? Check. Writing utensils? Check. Lube? Check.

You were primed and ready to begin this cocktastic journey. Completing this project will be a great benefit to Thirstology. You can’t believe that they put their trust in you to collect such valuable information from several willing participants. There’s no way you’re going to let the people at National Thirst Studies down.

With your lower body completely bare, you and your ambitious pussy set out to begin the cockwarming interviews.

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Pre-Notes: The Symbol of Peace. It’s still surreal to see him in such a fragile state. Strangely enough, I never once asked myself: Does All Might fuck? “Obviously he was too pure for fucking,” is what I would have said before I devoted my life to Thirst Studies. But I have learned over the years that there is no such thing as purity.

------

After he got over the initial shock of you wearing no pants or underwear, you were finally able to begin your study and ask him the main question.

You barely dodged the spray of blood spewing out of his mouth. “Am I into what?” He sputtered.

“Cockwarming, sir. The act of settling a penis in a nice cozy orifice. There’s no movement, only penetration. Surely you already at least knew the definition when you agreed to this?” You offered him a paper towel, which he accepted with a choked “thank you.”

“Midnight told me this would be about intimate relationships,” he anxiously explained while wiping the red off of his lips. “But I wasn’t expecting to hear something that graphic.”

Ah, so he was talked into this. “Well, with your permission, I can give you a personal demonstration.”

His answer was inaudible the first time; you had to ask him to speak up in order to hear his adorably high “yes.” He was a lot shyer than you imagined. Poor guy was shaking like he was on a verge of a heart attack when you took his cock out and boy, did he put the ‘long’ in ‘schlong.’ But your mission wasn’t to admire the dick’s appearance, it was to learn how their owners used them inside a hot snatch. You climbed onto him and lowered yourself and ooooh shit, both of you were moaning as his inches sank into you. You couldn’t take it all, but it was more than enough to get the job done.

“Mmnngh, yes, very long. Pushing almost painfully,” You said through clenched teeth, scribbling in your notepad as you sat semi-comfortably in his lap. “Can you give me your input, Toshinori? How is this feeling for you?”

“Blrraaaffggg.”

“Toshi?”

“…”

He laid limp in the interview chair as crimson liquid continued to flow from his mouth. Well, this is troublesome. You’ll have to wait for him to regain consciousness to hear his feedback.

------

Conclusion: This was his first time experiencing cockwarming. He described it as ‘intense, but not unpleasant’. Unfortunately, whenever I ask for more details, he would get too embarrassed to share anything. Frankly, this isn’t the most fruitful start to my series of interviews, but it was a great privilege to meet the amazing All Might.

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

Pre-Notes: I honestly don’t even know who the hell this is. An underground hero, apparently. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that he brought a cat with him. I told him that it needs to stay outside during the interview, but the difficult bastard was ready to turn around and leave unless I allowed the furball in. What a hassle. Do I even want to sit on this man?

------

You’re thankful that you did, in fact, sit on this man. His sleek ebony cat was relaxing in your lap while your pink kitty was stuffed with his cock. Despite his indifference to the situation, it was strangely intimate. Taking notes over a cute feline while his length twitched inside you was rather challenging.

“You seem like a rather exhausted fellow. Is it maybe the laid-back nature of the act that you find so alluring?” You asked.

“Mmhmm.” His arms circled around you to stroke his adorable pet.

“Being able to just wind down by giving your hard snake a wet hot crib to rest in?”

“Mmmmm.”

“I would appreciate a more elaborate answer.”

“Mmmmm...”

You shifted just enough to turn your head and see Aizawa’s head lolled back, his breaths getting heavier after each exhale. You can feel him quickly going soft inside you.

Ugh...

------

Conclusion: Given that he fell asleep in the middle of the demonstration, it’s safe to say that he finds the act very relaxing. I can only make guesses because the moment he woke up, he hurried me off his lap, picked up his cat and headed out. I did my best to chase him and ask if I could at least hear his final thoughts, but that bastard leaps on cars and buildings as skillfully as Edgeshot.

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

Pre-Notes: I’m not sure what to expect from the Voice Hero. His radio show has hosted some surprisingly insightful interviews. Unlike the last two, he will hopefully have some truly constructive answers to give.

------

“Not gonna lie, I always wanted to try this!”

Both of you were red in the face as you sat on his throbbing cock. Despite the blush and slight shake in his voice, he was as cheerful as ever. “Sometimes I just wonder, it would be pretty cool to just have a hottie warmin’ me up during my show, ya dig? No sex, though. I know I’m not quiet enough to get away with that on the air!” He laughed loudly right into your ear.

Well that kinda hurt, but it’s nice to finally have a fully cooperative interviewee. You were actually able to ask all of your planned questions for once, and Hizashi gave a satisfying answer to each one.

Unfortunately, it just couldn’t go perfectly, and his phone ended up ringing near the end of the interview.

“Hold on, listener. I gotta take this.”

Did he really? You wished he would wait until you were done.

You felt him lean back as you remained on his lap. “Shouta, buddy! What’s goin’ on?”

Shouta? Does he mean...?

“Sorry about that! I’m not home yet, I’m doin’ a...special interview, with a hard-working thirstologist.” You heard the voice on the other end respond, and Hizashi made a noise of confusion. “Eh? What do you mean ‘you too?’”

Oh dear, he does. They actually know each other.

The conversation quickly transformed into an argument, a loud one. The two heroes apparently have some...tension between them.

“Oh, so I throw hints at you for years and you act as innocent as your cats, but you’ll sit down and let a girl hop on your dick during an interview?!”

You had to lift yourself off of his softening member and take shelter from his booming voice. He was tucking himself back into his pants with one hand as he marched out of the room, but his hurt and anger was still loud and clear. “Don’t give me that bull. I bet if I hit you with twenty one questions about cockwarming, you’d just pretend you’re asleep! Oh, you actually did fall asleep? Huh.”

You awkwardly collected your notes as the two gentlemen were seemingly making up.

“Damn right I’ve always felt this way. Oh man, you better get ready tonight because I’ve got over ten years of pent up feelings, and you’re gonna take it all.”

------

Conclusion: It feels good to have a full interview. In summary, Hizashi is intrigued by the combination of closeness and casualness of it all. His interest in cockwarming during his jobs also indicate a possible thrill out of doing it in public. In addition, I’d like to announce with some pride that I may have assisted in taking two friends to the next level of their relationship.

Hawks

Pre-Notes: I’m eager to hear what the handsome winged hero has to say. I wouldn’t mind if we just stare at each other throughout the entire interview. My lust for him is unbearably strong and I’m not sure why. It’s probably just the horny writer’s obvious bias towards this bird. She could use another hobby.

------

Hawks laughed once you gave him the question that officially begins the interview. “Gotta admit, I’ve actually never tried it.”

That’s a surprise that you quickly jot down in your notes. “I see. Is it something you’re interested in trying? I can give you a demonstration right here.”

“Oh? I’d love one.”

You try not to look too excited as you leave your seat and move to undo his pants, but Hawks raises a hand.

“But I want you to do it on your knees.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “My knees? How do I-”

“With your mouth.”

Oh my.

You granted his request and kneeled down to take his half-hard cock into your mouth.

“Ahhh, that’s nice.” He sighed loudly, spreading his legs more as he stared down at you.

You detached your mouth from him to speak. “Can you tell me what it is that you-mmffrrf.”

A hand pushed you back down onto his man meat. “No no no, just...stay right there. I’ll do the talking in a minute.”

You sat there with his cock growing in the heat of your mouth. Hawks’s eyes were closed, a small content smile on his face. Every time you lifted your head just an inch, the hand on your head pressed you back down. Just when this interview was starting to feel more like a hookup, he finally began to talk.

“Oh yeah, I’ve fantasized stuff like this. You got a shitty boss? I do, don’t tell them I said that, though. They’re always finding something to get on my ass about. Working me like a dog everyday, expecting me to pull off these insane missions flawlessly.”

All you could do was look up and listen to his rant. He must have loved the sight of you, going by the strong twitch of his length in your mouth.

“They just keep asking more and more from me. ‘Do this faster next time, Hawks!’ or ‘I know you’ve never done something like this before, but don’t fail us, Hawks!’ Sometimes I just wanna shove something in their mouths...like my dick. Can you relate?”

You shook your head as well as you could in your current position.

He shrugged. “Oh well. As far as I know, I’ll always be the one getting fucked by them. But something like this...” He pat your head. “Ah yeah, it would be so nice to see them like this...”

------

Conclusion: Hawks was sadly short on time and had to leave before I could even get into the questions. Going by the very personal feelings and frustrations he shared, Hawks enjoys the dominance displayed from cockwarming, and prefers it be done orally. I will respect his wishes and not reveal any of the opinions that he shared about the establishment he works for and its executives.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fat Gum

Pre-Notes: It’s best that I continue to be honest: I’m anxious. Fat Gum is one of the biggest heroes around, and I just know that there is a deadly pillar of pussy destruction in those pants. I know that I should be more concerned with the questions, but it just won’t leave my mind.

------

“So, what experience do you have with this, Toyomitsu?”

The large man chuckled. He was currently in his skinny form, which you’re pretty thankful for since his fat form would have been beyond awkward to straddle. That would be like trying to hump one of those giant inflatable characters at parades. “A pretty lady I knew was really into it! I tried it for her sake, but I’ll say this with no ego, my sausage ain’t something to be taken lightly! Still, she was determined, and I was really digging just how strong her will was to take me.”

‘She sounds like a very brave soul,‘ you thought as your pen glided across your paper.

“I couldn’t believe it when she managed to get all of me inside. She couldn’t either, because she passed out! At first I just wanted to laugh it off,” he cackled as if to give an example, but his face quickly drooped into a somber expression. “But then I realized she wasn’t breathing...” His eyes shut in pain and sorrow. “And I couldn’t find a pulse...”

You nearly dropped your pen in horror. “My goodness, Toyomitsu. I’m so sor-”

“I’m just messin’ with ya! She’s fine!” His face immediately brightened up again, leaving you shocked and somewhat upset over the scare. “But seriously, if you want a seat on this big boy, I hope you’ve got plenty of lube on hand.”

“Don’t worry, I do. More than enough for the biggest flesh towers.”

But your doubts instantly returned when the bulging monster was freed from his pants. It’s huge. Toshinori may have been long, but this monster was unbelievable in both length and girth.

Your fear must have been evident on your face, because Toyomitsu asked, “You sure you wanna do this? Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You whipped out your bottle of lube and drenched your hands. “Thirstology is my passion. My life’s work. I am more than willing to put my life on the line for science.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “It’s...not that serious, but I really like your guts, missy.” He gave himself a few strokes. “So let me tear them up.”

Even with the coatings of lube inside your pussy and on his massive cock, this was still the most arduous task you have ever performed in your life. You didn’t know it was possible to be stretched this far. The light blonde was mesmerized by your trembles and scrunched expressions and as you tried to take more of him, his mouth slightly open when he noticed the swell in your lower abdomen.

“Oh, that is hot.”

------

Conclusion: I did it. I took the Fat Gun. Fat Gum himself takes a lot of pleasure in watching the strain of someone trying to take him in, and due to his partner often being much smaller than him, the tightness is very pleasurable to him. He was the only interviewee that actually came during the demonstration, so I suppose it’s safe to say that he is the biggest fan of cockwarming out of the five. He was very panicked when he came inside me, but I reassured him that I am on the pill. This is still a hell of a mess to clean up, however.

(I hope the information I have obtained will be useful for the institute. Thank you for giving me this opportunity)

#asks #smut #all might #shouta aizawa #hawks #present mic #fatgum #yagi toshinori #keigo takami #yamada hizashi #i got more invested in this as i went on #also how the hell do you write fatgum

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest

Summary: Everyone in D.A.M.N simp for the power couple at least a little bit - the Vampire Prince of Dahlia and the Electro Energetic. Gavin and the Freelancer would be lying if they said they haven't been watching them... respectfully.

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Explicit implications courtesy of Gavin, of course] & [Oblivious narrators]

Apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors because I wrote this the whole night and only edited it once. I’ll do the editing process again tomorrow morning.

Life as a student in D.A.M.N is nothing like regular colleges or universities. While the environment is hectic with exams, assignments and teachers with sticks up their asses - there's also a hint of craziness thrown into the mix. You can never really predict how your day would go here in the academy, and to most of the students, it's the typical college experience you'll get everywhere. Just... taken to the next level.

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all.

An Air Elemental would accidentally shatter the windows in a classroom with a powerful gust of wind on a random ass Tuesday because she was laughing too hard. A Graviton Energetic would sneeze, and suddenly, the gravity in the music room would stick the instruments on the ceilings. The entire soccer team would fall flat on the grassy field, snoozing because the Serenity Daemon playing as the Goalkeeper uses too much magic to calm their anxious Sweeper during his first play with the team.

With so many Empowered creatures of all kinds attending D.A.M.N, there's never a dull moment. You learned that the moment a loud growl came from the Debate Club on your second week as a student. A Wolf Shifter had gotten into a heated argument with a Vampire about the toppings that should and shouldn't be on a pizza.

So yeah, typical college life with magic thrown into your daily shenanigans.

Today, you can't help but wonder what sort of excitement would occur as the large clock above the lecture hall ticks by, counting down the second before the class is over.

You check the clock and sigh. Just ten more minutes to go, but it feels like time is creeping forward at such a snail-like pace. Tapping your pen on the open notebook laid before you rather irritability, you just want the lecturer to stop yammering already so you can grab lunch at the food truck parked outside of campus.

Something gently knocks against your knuckle. You tilt your head to the side and meet with Damien's unamused stare; it looks like this is the third time he caught you losing focus in class.

"I told you to grab a snack before class started." Damien whispers, mindful to keep his voice even so the lecturer won't catch them chatting. Sadism Daemons are scary when you piss them off, and the way the lecturer's eyes sweep through the students is more than enough to have them all shut the hell up the moment he begins their topic of the day.

"I was meeting up with Lasko and we lost track of time." You hiss back. Yesterday you made a promise to catch up with the Air Elemental before your first class started to organise the date and invitations for the next game night. Once Lasko starts talking about the things he's comfortable with, he loses his stutter and launches into an animated one-sided conversation. You didn't have the heart to stop him, not when he looks so happy and cute.

Buying that Arkham Horror board game was the right purchase to surprise him with.

While your mind replays the morning you spend with Lasko, Damien rolls his eyes. "Of course you did. Here." He pushes his coffee cup towards you. His fingers linger on the cup for a few seconds to make sure that the coffee remains hot enough to drink.

You grab the cup, grateful for his consideration, and take a big swing. The coffee settles pleasantly in your stomach as warmth spreads within your body.

You're more a tea drinker - the classic Early Grey and Gunpowder Green - but at this instance, coffee would hopefully kick your focus back into gear.

"Thanks, Damien." You said before passing the cup back to him. You peeked at his notebook and wasn't surprised to find that it's packed with notes written in different coloured pens. "Hey, want to grab lunch together after this?"

Damien switched the yellow pen for a red one when the lecturer mentioned something about a topic for the upcoming test. You absentmindedly wondered if it's worth your life stealing his notebook. "Sure. What are you in the mood for?" He asked.

Finally, the lecturer dismisses the class. Chatters erupt as students pack up while some scurry over to the podium to ask a few questions.

You lean against your seat to stretch your back; your notebooks and stationery are already in your school backpack. You're just waiting for Damien now. "I'm craving for a burger and some cheesy loaded fries with a boba tea." God, just thinking about it is already enough to make your mouth watered.

Being a health nut, Damien throws you a judgemental look at your food choice as you two made your way towards the main campus entrance. He easily follows your lead through a crowd of students, and Damien even gently pulls you closer to his side when a student whizzes by on her skateboard.

With so many people talking and laughing around you and Damien, you can't help but hear the conversations hovering around you.

"...had class with them yesterday? Dude, you're so lucky! Did you sit beside them!?"

"Are you fucking crazy? No! I sat two rows behind them, but it was enough to smell their perfume. God, they're so gorgeous - I couldn't focus the entire time!"

"I've heard a few players from the Earth Elemental team tried to invite them to their party this weekend, but they were shot down. Apply cold water on burned area."

"Well, duh. You can't just walk up to them like that! They're one of the hottest people in this academy."

"Yeah, but those players are in one of the most well-respected sports teams in all of Dahlia, and even they can't stand a chance against them!"

Students parted ways as you and Damien approached the gates. Rows of food trucks parked across the street with tables and chairs placed about. The conversations tapered off behind you, along with the hubbub of the academy. You have a pretty good idea of whom those students were talking about. It's been a topic surrounding the academy ever since the start of the new academic year.

Even as an introvert who prefers to hover to your few but close group of friends, you couldn't escape the latest academy gossip.

"Finally, I thought my ears would've fallen off before we could escape," Damien mutters. It's a cloudy Wednesday; dark clouds are rolling above them with an occasional burst of strong breeze cutting through. "You'd think they would just give it a rest already."

The food truck you and Damien stop by displays a menu with a wide variety of food and drinks. From burgers to pasta and desserts ranging from ice-creams to Thai banana pancakes, your stomach begins to growl. You place your order in a hurry, whereas Damien selects a hearty sandwich stuffed with juicy and tender slices of slow-smoked beef brisket with veggies of his choice and chipotle mayo in between two crusty loaves with a bottle of water.

You and Damien grab your meals to sit at one of the vacant tables and enjoy lunch together. Good food and good company - what more could you ask for? Well, other than Damien's tsk-ing and wiping the barbecue sauce that smudged the corner of your cheek like the mother hen he constantly denies to be.

"Can't you eat your food properly, Freelancer? You're getting your fingers dirty too. Give me your hand." Damien demanded halfway through his sandwich. You grin impishly and offer your left hand for Damien to wipe with some tissue while the other is holding a burger. The thick sauce begins to drip.

Soon enough, a familiar voice shouts at them from across the street.

"Yo, Damien! Freelancer! Are you guys, like, having lunch? Can I join!?"

You can't help but beam and wave your hand (that was still holding the burger) high up when Huxley crosses over. Damien squawked with eyes wide in horror when the barbecue sauce got all over the table. He hurried to wipe the table clean while you greeted Huxley.

"Hi, Huxley! Are you grabbing lunch too? Take a seat, man!"

"Thanks a bunch, dude. It's been a while since I hung out with you two."

"We literally had a class together two days ago."

"Two days too long, Damien. I miss you guys."

"Aww, that's super sweet of you, Hux!"

"Oh, for the love of - just go buy something already before the next class starts."

Huxley happily gives Damien two thumbs up before grabbing his food and drink. When he returned to their table, he brought a tray of smoothie consisting of kale, spinach, banana, orange, and vanilla blended into green mush in a plastic cup and a plate of vegan quesadillas.

The moment Huxley sat down, you took a sip of his drink and made a face.

"Yeah, I ask them to hold back on the honey because I like the vanilla more," Huxley explains before tucking in. "Oh! But I can ask them to add more honey if you want. That’s like, totally cool."

You quickly shake your head and clean your palate with your sweet boba tea. "It's cool, Hux. Just wanted to try a sip. You're really into these crazy healthy smoothies."

"They're the bomb, dude. My Mums introduced a few recipes to me when I was a kid, and I basically hooked ever since." The Earth Elemental explains after gulping down a good chunk of the green goo.

"Yeah, well, with the calories you burned up during practice, I guess you can't go wrong with smoothies," Damien added thoughtfully. His sandwich is all gone. He props an elbow on the table and cradles his face in one open palm. "Anyway, what's up, Huxley? Anything new happened?"

"Nah, it's been nothing but the same shit lately. Classes, assignments and practices for the upcoming Elemental & Energetic Games - normal stuff. What about you guys?"

"More or less the same." Damien replies, soundly ignoring your "We're hitting the tournament arc!" outburst. "Planning to organise a study group for the upcoming tests. I expect the two of you will be joining, by the way."

At Damien's words, Huxley beams brighter. Any brighter, you'd need a pair of sunglasses. "For real, dude!? You're like, the best friend ever, Damien! C'mere - lemme give you a hug!"

You snicker when despite Damien's frantic protest, Huxley shoot up from his chair and quickly hugs the Fire Elemental tightly before he has the chance to weasel away.

Also, you didn't miss the chance to snap a quick picture of them to show Gavin tonight.

Unaware of your phone, Damien grumbled when Huxley finally released him, and they sat down again. The three of you continue to chat about everything and anything. Soon, the topic shifts from tests to plans for the weekend.

Huxley snapped his fingers when you mentioned Lasko's gaming night and the tabletop game you recently bought for him so they could all play together.

"I totally forgot about the party! A few guys in my team are having a party this Saturday, and I want to invite you guys and Lasko. Oh! Gavin too! It's going to be a blast, and on Sunday, we can play that new board game."

You and Damien exchange a glance. "Sounds fun. Actually, we've heard about the party just now. How many people are your team members inviting?" You asked, curious.

Huxley takes a moment to ponder before shrugging. He's nearly done with this food. "It's supposed to be just with a few close friends. Nothing too crazy, you know? After the last party that ended with fireworks exploding in someone's bedroom, they want to keep it lowkey."

"Huh. Close friends, but they tried to invite a certain Energetic," Damien interjects. "What's up with that?"

"You heard about that too?" Huxley replied, surprise coloured his tone. "Word travel like, super-fast around campus! It happened, like, yesterday morning!"

Damien let out an annoyed groan and ran a palm down his face. "I think it's safe to say that everyone in this fucking academy is talking about it and nothing else. God, no matter where you go, you can't escape it."

You pat Damien's arm in a comforting manner. "They're hot and popular; people will be talking about them until we all graduate."

"And if it isn't them, people would be talking about their boyfriend," Huxley pointed out, stirring his smoothie languidly. Huxley smiles and offers it to you when you critically stare at it for a tad too long. Against your better judgement, you try again.

Blek! It still tastes the same! Huxley just chuckles and finishes the rest of the smoothie while you seek solace with your boba tea again.

"Besides, it's not often you see an Energetic and Vampire couple walking around," Huxley continued. "I think they're living together too. I mean, that's what I heard."

"Don't tell me you also have a crush on them."

Before Huxley could say anything, you tentatively raise your hand as if you guys are in class. Now you bear Damien's annoyed glance. "I was kinda hardcore crushing on them and their boyfriend before Gavin and I officially got together. They keep to themselves and their boyfriend most of the time, but they're super nice in classes."

The Elemental and Energetic courses often have classes that intermingle every week. However, they're primarily compulsory lessons like magical history, laws regarding coverts and taxonomy of various Empowered creatures.

So you're practically classmates with the hottest Electro Energetic in the academy and had even sat beside them a few times during class. Unlike many of the students who simp for them at a distance.

The power couple of D.A.M.N is certainly interesting, to say the least.

You narrowed your eyes at Damien when he refused to let up his disappointed stare. "Don't lie to me. You simp for them too."

Damien huffs and crosses his arms. "Both of them look good, alright. Anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell from a mile away. They're gorgeous, and the Vampire is hot - so what?"

"They're both super strong too." Huxley unknowingly throws more wood into the fire.

By the time their lunch ended, Damien had demanded they talk about something else, so you jump into plans for the weekend. Party on Saturday and a gaming session on Sunday.

Typical college life.

When the time on your phone displays 10.30 PM in glaring bright light and you're still on campus, you know what death feels like.

It's quiet in the cafeteria, save for a small group of students huddled together around tables scattered in various places. Their heads are hunched down as they go over textbooks and assignments. One of the students happens to be a Vampire judging from the blood bag beside his laptop.

A red swirly straw juts out of the bag, and for a brief moment of exhaustion, you entertain the image of the student sipping the blood bag as if it was a Capri Sun.

Just like those students, the reason why you've stayed late in the academy's cafeteria is because of assignments. You know that if you bring your homework back home with you, you won't get any of it done. It's better to stay here and slough through them instead.

Damien would scold and drag you home if he knew. Huxley would be sad and plead for you to rest, and Lasko would put on his guidance counsellor voice and advise you that a good night's sleep would help you think better.

The boys mean well, and you love them for it, but you know yourself better than anyone. If you don't finish these assignments tonight, you would just procrastinate until the deadline punches you right in the face.

You sigh and rub your temple in frustration. You've made good progress so far, but there's still a few left and you want to complete them all before going home. So you resume writing down the essay about the importance of convert and the Department on your laptop, fingers deftly flying all over the keyboard.

Nighttime at D.A.M.N is not as busy as it is in the morning. The students that are going in and out of classes are mostly Vampires and nocturnal animal Shifters. The academy's faculties are also lesser in terms of numbers compared to their morning counterpart.

Twice you've experienced the nightlife at D.A.M.N, and tonight would be your third. You wondered if Gavin is at home already. Hopefully, you can return to the apartment before him. Better wrap this up, then.

The steady rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard and quiet discussion from the group of students slowly lull you to sleep. Hang in there just a little more!

The sound of a Daemon Rifting into this world startles you awake.

"Here you are, Deviant," Gavin said, his ordinarily seductive voice laced with conceal anger. Oh shit, you're in trouble now. "I thought we talked about this."

You have no choice but to face him. Gavin looks devastatingly as sexy as ever; his black t-shirt snugly fits his body to the point that it showcases his biceps tastefully. A pair of dark blue jeans that he just so happens knows will get your heart racing and accompanied by a pair of shiny black Doc Martens boots. A rainbow-coloured bead bracelet is on his right wrist; a gift from Caelum.

You would've swoon at the sight of him if you weren't seconds away from face planting on your laptop.

So instead, you greet him with a, "Whaaa... Gavin?" You rub your eyes and blink at him. "W-What are you doing here? I thought you'd be - " You break out a yawn before sighing. "At home by now."

"Funny. I thought the same thing about you but colour me surprised when Caelum reached out to me while I was grocery shopping — saying that you aren't home even when it's close to midnight." Gavin explains and tilts his head to the spread of books you have before you. "So, want to explain why you're at the campus cafeteria right now instead of in our bed?"

The gears in your head are scrambling to come up with an excuse that's good enough to appease Gavin. So lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear the whispers coming from the nearby students.

"That's the main boyfriend..."

"Holy fuck, an Incubus? Damn, they're insatiable!"

"How often do you think they have orgies? Twice a week?"

" - collecting them like Pokemon!"

Oh fuck it, you can't come up with anything decent. "I'm nearly done with my assignments, Gavin." You assured the worried Incubus. "Just need to write down a few more paragraphs..."

Gavin is undeterred. "Freelancer, we talked about this. It's not healthy that you're making a habit of staying over at campus late at night because of assignments. You're going to burn out like this."

Well yeah, you could feel your body is already seconds away from collapsing but like hell would you admit that to your boyfriend. It's been a long day and an even longer evening. It's a good thing that tomorrow's the weekend.

Gavin startles you once more by leaning against the table and cupping your face in his large hands, so you're forced to look straight into his eyes. He's many things, but to those he deeply trusts and loves, his eyes would always betray the worry and concern he has for you and Caelum; even if his words aren't as forthcoming at times. "My stubborn, enticing Deviant... Are you being a brat again? Not listening to your Dom like you should be?" He purrs.

All of a sudden, your throat suddenly feels like sandpaper, and your heart skips a beat at Gavin's tone. You're very familiar with that tone - it always promises punishment and pleasure mixed together until nothing else exists except for your boyfriend.

But the question now is, how far can you actually push him. So with Gavin still refusing to release your face, you swallow and reply as nonchalantly as you can, "Oh, I don't know about enticing, Gavin. I-I mean, I've been running around campus the whole day. Probably have some barbecue sauce stain on my jacket and - Ow!"

You puff out your cheeks when Gavin pinched them.

"Are you purposely trying to test me, Freelancer? You know that just means more fun for me, and you tie up and helpless on the bed, right?" Gavin is all too happy to remind you, cocking one eyebrow at your impertinence. No doubt he already has your punishment in mind when the two of you are home.

But you're not going to budge that easily. Sensing your stubbornness, Gavin lets you go and unleashes his ultimate move with a sigh.

"I can see the Knots on you, Freelancer, and if I can see them, Caelum can too. I'm not covering your ass when he comes over for breakfast tomorrow and starts crying."

You gasp and immediately recoil. "Low blow Gavin!" You counter, but you know that he speaks the truth. Your heart will literally break if you're the reason that Caelum cries.

Gavin smirks when you switch off your laptop. He helps put your things away and offers a hand to you. With a small smile, you let yourself be gently pulled up by him and sling your backpack over a shoulder.

"Are you hungry?" Gavin asked as the two of you stepped into the large hallway, hand-in-hand. "I didn't manage to make anything when I put the groceries away, but I can whip something up real quick when we get home."

It's a sweet gesture, and you made sure that he knows how much you appreciate it by squeezing his hand. Ever since you two started living together, Gavin is determined to feed you properly. According to him, it's only fitting since you've constantly been feeding him too. "I'm more sleepy than hungry." You reply after a yawn. "I'll just eat a big breakfast tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to it. Also, look alive, Deviant. Hottie approaching at 12 O'clock."

That got your attention immediately, and snapped your eyes forward. Your jaw would've dropped if it weren't for Gavin lightly nudging your side when you saw who was walking towards the two of you.

It's them — the Electro Energetic that became the talk around campus.

They're as breathtaking as ever, even after a whole day of classes and club activities. Not a single hair out of place and clothes unruffled. Their body language stood out to you; their gait is a little hesitant but friendly, while their eyes are kind.

It's easy to see why so many people harbour crushes on them, and you've always been a sucker for cute faces.

When they finally approach you, they pull out a pair of wireless white earbuds from their ears. That's when you hear intense music playing:

It's the Pumpkin Patch King

With the corpse with the ring

And she'd fuck my best friend if I die here today...

"Um, hi. Good evening. I'm sorry for bothering you guys so late like this. Are you heading home?" They inquire tentatively.

Gavin waits for you to take the lead. "Hey, man. Yeah, we kind of are, actually. Want us to walk you home?" You could feel how pleased Gavin is beside you. The offer just crosses your mind, and besides, it's not nice to walk alone this late at night.

That's what you're telling yourself despite the small part in your brain whispered that walking them home would be a great step of getting to know them better. It's just a harmless crush anyway.

Unfortunately, they decline the offer. "I'm waiting for someone, actually, but when I saw you, I wanted to talk for a bit."

Your heart skips a beat for a second time tonight. They specifically sought you out? You? When they've never done so towards anyone before?

"O-Oh," You embarrassingly squeak, clutching Gavin's hand tighter.

The Electro Energetic nod. They tilt their head like an indulged, curious cat and god, that simple gesture shouldn't look so hot. "I don't know if you notice me, but we share Covert Laws - "

If you notice them? If you notice them!? They have a stronger presence than the lecturers themselves! They radiate magic like thunderstorms - intimidating, powerful and commanding that you have no choice but to submit to it.

Sitting beside them was an experience and a half! There's no way an Empowered creature could ignore them despite their quiet demeanour!

" - and I was wondering if you would like to be partners for the final project this year? Um, I heard that you're really good in that class, and I promise to pull my weight with the research and - "

You don't know how to react. Is this really happening? One of the most popular students in the academy wanted to be your project partner? You thought this sort of situation only occurs in animes!

"They'd love to." Gavin smoothly answers when you're too shocked to say anything. "It's always nice to make new friends after all. Especially with a walking wet dream such as yourself." Here, he purposely pauses to appraise the Electro Energetic.

Just like his Freelancer, Gavin has heard all about this Empowered human and even basks in the delicious energy coming from the thoughts and emotions his partner has for them. As an Incubus and their boyfriend, it's hilarious that his Deviant thought he's not aware of their crush. It's cute.

Hmm... it'll be nice if he and the Freelancer could invite the Energetic and their Vampire lover into their bed one of these days. Regardless if they've been Marked; honestly, that just made the couple as appealing as the biblical Forbidden Fruit.

And besides, Gavin has a strong feeling that the Freelancer wouldn't oppose the idea. It'll be the perfect anniversary present for his Deviant.

"...Was that supposed to be a compliment?" They ask warily. Oops, looks like he's coming on a little too strongly. Time to take it down a notch.

"It's whatever you want it to be. Anyway, now that you guys are... partners, what say you get to know us better, hmm? My lover has been eager to be friends with you." Gavin explains. You whip your head at him incredulously. Is he seriously doing what you think he's doing!? "I'm Gavin, by the way. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The Energetic look confused, and you can't blame them. You need to save them before Gavin proposes something as crazy as an orgy on your behalf!

You laugh awkwardly, bringing their attention to you. "Right! Partners! I'd love to be yours - I-I mean, uh, for school stuff! Yeah! Can we exchange numbers?"

"Smooth, Deviant." Gavin teases. Something caught his interest, not that you notice as you and the Energetic trade contact information. They compliment the cute picture you have as your Home Screen (it's a selfie shot of you and Gavin, Lasko, Damien and Huxley during the previous game night. It's a shame that Caelum couldn't appear), and in return, you ask where did they buy their sick phone cover.

While they still feel like the human embodiment of a fierce thunderstorm, it's nice to have a casual conversation with them. They're thoughtful, kind and fun that you soon find yourself calming down a little.

"Not to cut this riveting conversation short, but are you sure that you don't want us to walk you home? It's getting really late, and we're more than happy to have you crash at our place for the night." Gavin interjects with a seductive grin, eyes half-lidded.

"Umm..."

Whoa, what happened to being friendly, Gavin!? You shoot him a look; he's going to drive them away!

"We have an extra guest room at our apartment." You hurried to explain. "So it's totally cool if your place is far away or something."

Their hesitation melts to understanding. The last thing that you want is a misunderstanding between you two.

"You guys are sweet, but I'll be alright. Actually, I'm about to leave the campus too. I'm just going to hang out at the cafeteria until he arrives." They said. You have a pretty good idea who 'he' is judging by their soft smile.

Gavin, for some reason, amp up his game. With a smirk, he cajoles, "Since he hasn't shown up yet, how about you hang out with us for a bit? There's a bar not too far from here - "

You flinched, and Gavin automatically shuts up and pulls you close to his side when a Vampire appears behind the Electro Energetic. It was so sudden that his appearance was a blur at first.

"Vincent? You're done with class already?" They blink. An arm snaked around their waist as the Vampire pulled his Mate close to his chest. The Energetic had to crane their head up slightly to look at him.

He's as tall as Gavin. Dressed in a casual black coat that screams money with a dark grey shirt accompanied by a pair of black jeans and boots. His silver studs, rings and watch glimmer underneath the fluorescent lights. Everything about this man reminds you of a panther sizing up its prey.

You gulped. He's currently glaring daggers at you and your boyfriend. You're itching to stutter out a, "This isn't what it looks like!" for some reason.

Now, ever since you learned about the existence of magic and Empowered creatures, you did your best to be open-minded. Even that whole ordeal with Vega didn't stop you from reaching out to the various Daemons attending the academy.

However, you haven't managed to befriend a Vampire due to their night classes, and even the few times you stay back like today, most of them are running back and forth through the hallways to catch their next lesson.

So to be the target of a pissed off Vampire made you uncomfortable. You want to fidget, but Gavin's arm secured around you ease some of that tension.

"Mm-hmm. I'm on break right now, so I can drive you back home. You done with that talk with your guidance counsellor?" The Vampire inquired, eyes still glued at you and Gavin.

"All done. We lost track of time when we discussed next semester's timetable for the Energetic course and potential careers once we graduate." His lover explains, unaware of the displeasure rolling off like waves from their boyfriend. "I think I need some time to go over them again. It's a bit much to take in."

The Vampire hums in acknowledgement. "We can go through them together this weekend if you like, Lovely. Maybe we can ask Will for help since he's coming over on Saturday for dinner too."

Oh, you suppose that's why they reject the Earth Elemental players' invitation to the party.

But the Vampire wasn't done. He assesses you and Gavin with narrowed eyes as if you were stains on the bottom of his boots. What the hell? "By the way, are these guys bothering you?"

A chill sweeps through you, sending goosebumps crawling on your skin at the sudden shift of tone. He was warm and affectionate when speaking to his lover, but now? It's colder than ice.

Gavin, whose smirk turns into a shit-eating grin, is utterly unfazed at the Vampire's hostility. In fact, you would go as far as to say that he's relishing it. "We're just keeping your gorgeous Mate company while they're waiting for you. I was just about to propose that we move the conversation to a bar so we could all get to know one another a lot more... intimately."

Oh god, they're so fucked. You have no idea why your boyfriend is trying to start shit up, but you're too tired to deal with this drama. So again, you try to salvage the situation.

"Just as friends!" You quickly butt in. "We decide to be partners for an assignment in Covert Laws, so hanging out at a bar sounds like a good idea as friends." You're sprouting bullshits at this point, but you hope it's enough to save both of your asses. You also made sure to emphasise the word 'friends'.

The Vampire quickly looks at the Energetic for confirmation, and they readily nod. His aggressive body posture relaxes somewhat, but he's still wary of you and Gavin.

Maybe this is the best time to introduce yourself to him.

"Uh, it's a little silly that we didn't introduce ourselves right away, but I'm a Freelancer." You mutter out rather awkwardly. Should you offer a hand to him?

Gavin saves you from doing so. "And I’m their boyfriend, Gavin. An Incubus."

"...Vincent Solaire." The Vampire - Vincent - reluctantly replies.

Wait - his surname sounds familiar, though. You think you heard it in one of the classes about the supernatural factions in Dahlia... It's on the tip of your tongue...

"Oh, we've heard all about you, Your Highness." Gavin slyly quips. "You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here."

Holy shit. Solaire! The most powerful Vampire clan in the city! You remember now; the King has two progeny - A Vampire Princess & Prince. You didn't expect the Energetic boyfriend to be the Prince himself! What a twist!

"Celebrities?" The Energetic - Lovely, as Vincent calls them - pipes up in confusion. The way their eyebrows furrow is adorable, but you wisely keep that to yourself.

They really are a mesmerising couple. You detect the perfume that lingers around Lovely is sweet and misty. It's calming yet so light that it dances just out of your reach; like a coy lover. Slowly driving you mad with desire. Vincent's cologne reminds you of husk and cedar. Subtle, but once you catch a whiff of it, it'll stay within your mind for hours on end. Wondering if that particular scent will ever return - like the perfect one night stand.

It says a lot about the couple.

"We haven't done anything wrong." Vincent Solaire stated, voice as hard as steel. "I don't know why you're trying to rile us up, Incubus, but I don't appreciate you and your lover hitting on my Mate when I made it clear that I Mark them."

Ooooh, he's jealous! Wait - did you come across as flirty to him!? Did Gavin purposely flirt with Lovely to make Vincent jealous? You've completely lost the plot.

"Consider it as an act of public service," Gavin answers, easily brushing off the Vampire Prince's irritability. "Besides, how can I not when you both are half of the student body's recent fantasies."

Lovely 'eeped' when Vincent bare his fangs at your boyfriend. "Back off, Gavin. Lovely is mine. Not yours or the Freelancer's."

Whoa, whoa! A severe misunderstanding is boiling here! No one is stealing Lovely away from him!

Fortunately, Lovely has gotten tired of the conversation. With a put-out sigh, they pat the arm around their waist to capture Vincent's attention. It worked. "No one is stealing the other's partner, Vince. It's all good; chill. You know you're the only one for me, right?" Here, they peck his cheek. "When did you get so possessive?"

Vincent grumbled but didn't explain himself, so Lovely just shook their head.

"Anyway, we better get going before Vincent's next class starts. It was nice meeting you two. I'll text you soon so we can plan on how to tackle that project."

You give a shaky smile and a thumbs up. "Looking forward to it."

Immediately after you said that, Vincent bares his fangs to you next. Oh my god, this guy needs to fucking relax!

"We're going! We're going! C'mon, Vincent. You're driving me home. Now."

And with that, you watch as Lovely drags the Vampire Prince to the parking lot. It's a strange yet comical sight. You only sigh in relief when they're out of your view.

"I thought I saw my life flashing before my eyes!" You complain. Those were the single most stressful moments that you’ve encountered— second to Vega invading your home.

"I think that went well, Deviant." Gavin objected, very pleased with himself. "He's pissed now, but he and his Mate will be thanking us soon."

So you were right; Gavin purposely flirted with Lovely just to rile Vincent up, and for what? Possessive, sexy time later tonight? Oh, whatever. That's enough drama for one night; you seriously just need to pass out now.

And with that, the two of you head home without realising your interactions with the power couple of D.A.M.N didn't go by unnoticed by the several students who were hovering close.

"Are you hurting anywhere, Lovely?"

"I'm alright, Vincent. The hickeys and bruises are healing nicely; my body still feels a bit sore but not enough to cripple me, so stop hovering near the door."

Vincent guilty did as he’s told and takes a seat on the corner of the bed. He watches you apply some light makeup on your face and neck in front of the vanity table as you're getting ready to head out to the academy. Your outfit compliments your look and, most importantly, hides any patches of skin except for your hands.

Vincent really went all out last weekend after his night classes ended. It's obvious that Gavin unleashed something within your lover, and you will freely admit that an unrestrained Vincent makes for a very fun and wild night.

The moment Will came over and realised that Vincent re-Mark you an hour before he arrives, he graciously decided to take a rain check and promise to have dinner with the two of you some other time.

Once Vincent gets it out of his system, he teased before leaving you gobsmacked and Vincent a blushing mess.

"You know, your guidance counsellor wouldn't mind if you're absent from classes today, Lovely. Probably." Vincent tries; a part of him doesn't want his Lovely to attend their lessons while their body is still healing. Then again, that part also whispers that the Incubus and his lover would be around them without his supervision.

Nope. No. Bad Vincent. Lovely is more than capable of taking care of themselves. They don't need him acting like a jealous, clingy boyfriend.

However, something that the Incubus bothered him.

"You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here."

What did he mean by that? He and Lovely had been playing good students the entire time they've been on campus! Their assignments are always delivered on time, grades nothing but above average, and they keep to themselves to avoid any typical college dramas.

Is it because of his status? For some reason, Vincent feels like it's more complicated than that. What a headache.

"Maybe, but I did promise the Freelancer that I’ll catch up with them to discuss our project," You commented and spritz your favourite perfume on your wrists and neck. You love this scent, despite it being cheap and common. "Vincent, honey, you're making that face again."

"It's my face, Lovely."

"Yeah, well, you have your happy-snappy-neck face again, Vincent." You dryly point out before sitting beside the Vampire. "Did that Incubus really rub you the wrong way?" Your voice is gentle. You didn't get any bad vibes coming from Gavin and the Freelancer - just genuine, harmless, friendly flirting. In a way, you welcome it as their attempts helped you drive your anxiety away.

God, walking up to them was hard enough. You always feel a little intimidated whenever you're around charismatic people.

"I don't know... I thought they were making you nervous, and the words that kept coming out of that Daemon's mouth? He knew what he was doing; I just can't figure out what or why." Vincent admits, frustrated.

Seeing him look so frustrated saddens you, so you propose a suggestion. "How about this, I'll ask the Freelancer what that whole thing on Friday was all about, and if it's anything gross, I'll give you a call so you can deal with them. How's that?"

It assured Vincent. Seeing his tiny smile urge you to peppered his face with kisses until he laughs. With your boyfriend now properly appeased, you leave the apartment for D.A.M.N.

It's a bright Monday morning. You hope that this week will be a little kinder to you than the previous one. However, the moment you arrived on campus, everyone was glancing at you curiously. When you made eye contact with the stares, the students couldn't walk away fast enough.

Weird.

Your first class of the day is on the second floor, so you didn't waste any time heading for the stairs. Students mingle around as they go about their day; some grab breakfast at the convenient store, while others chat with their friends at the cafeteria and lounge room. A Water Elemental is performing simple tricks at the marble fountain to an adoring crowd.

Just as you rounded a corner, the crowd parted ways with a subtlety of a serial killer in slasher movies, which is to say, absolutely none whatsoever to reveal your new friend. The Freelancer is flanked by their boyfriend, Gavin, on the left and on their right, the famous player in the Earth Elemental team Huxley and one of the academy's guidance counsellors, Lasko.

You couldn't help but notice that everyone is giving them a wide berth. Not that it matters when Gavin's body is positioned to shield the Freelancer from bumping into any of the passing students. Huxley passes a bottle of orange juice to them while Lasko is staring at something behind the Freelancer. He mutters something under his breath.

A loud voice suddenly bounces off the walls. "What happened to my water tumbler, Freelancer!?"

You and every other student in the area watch as the Freelancer turns around and loudly replies, "Don't worry! I already got you a new tumbler, Damien! It looks exactly like your old one. Except it's pastel pink with kittens on it, and the shape looks like a really fat snowman with bunny ears for straws." To make a point, the Freelancer rummage inside of their backpack and proudly present the weirdest looking water tumbler you had ever seen in your life to their boys.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

"You know you could at least see it before you judge it, Damien." The Freelancer grumbled and shoved the tumbler back. Huxley gently pats their shoulder in a comforting manner. Lasko laughs nervously while Gavin continues to protect his lover silently, all the while looking at ease.

Everyone knows of the Freelancer and their boyfriends. They're the most popular group in D.A.M.N for a reason. Friendly, yet no one can be a part of their group due to the tight bond they have with one another.

The Freelancer is quickly shaping up to be a remarkable magical individual in their own right, marching to the beat of their own drums rather than the world's. Unwaveringly kind and friendly, constantly making sure the people around them are comfortable and safe.

In terms of academic performance, Damien remains unchallenged among his peers. Everyone could tell that he would undoubtedly change their world for the better the moment he graduates, especially in governing. He's also known for his fiery temper, yet that fire becomes a hearth when it comes to the Freelancer. More than once, students have stumbled upon them huddled close in the library, softly discussing the future they wanted.

If Damien is known for his academic excellence, then Huxley is famous for his prowess in the field. His mastery over his element made the younger Earth Elementals look up to him as their role model while his teammates view him as their ace. Charming, cheerful yet a bit absentminded at times, and even then, you can't help but be fond of him. You can find the Freelancer cheering him from the bleachers during his matches, and once Huxley won the game, he would immediately launch himself at them. Sweats, dirt and grass all over him, but the Freelancer would laugh as he hoisted them up in his embrace.

Lasko is an odd addition to their group, but once he drops his stuttering, he shows just how capable he is as one of the academy's guidance counsellors. Acknowledged as one of the most powerful Air Elemental of his generation, Lasko is well on track to graduate D.A.M.N with honours, and while the future might be uncertain, students like to speculate that he will remain with the Freelancer and the others no matter what. Sometimes you can even catch a glimpse of them hanging out at one of the local cafes and see how bright and alive Lasko can be when around the Freelancer.

Gavin came with a mystery trailing his saunter. See, no one knew how exactly he and the Freelancer first met. Speculations range from a cute, accidental meet up in a random convenience store to the Incubus boldly inviting them into a threesome when the Freelancer stumbled upon him mid-feeding. Lovely wonders if there's a betting pool going around the academy. The seniors would recognise Gavin, for he was their peer before he suddenly dropped out and vanished for a while. But judging by his frequent presence around the Freelancer, some say that he's looking forward to retaking his previous course. But whatever the reason may be, no one can deny the chemistry he has with the Freelancer. How fiercely protective he is of them when the Freelancer isn't looking.

They're certainly an intriguing group, that's for sure.

And when Gavin notices you were watching them, he winks at you. No doubt as an Incubus, he could scent what you and Vincent had been up to the entire weekend.

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all.

PS: Everyone in D.A.M.N (including Lovely & Vincent) hilariously assumes that the Freelancer is in a poly relationship with Gavin, Damien, Lasko & Huxley when in reality, they're just with Gavin. BBBBuuuttt... Gavin could detect the romantic/lustful feelings the other bois harbour for the Freelancer but kept it to himself for now. He's just waiting for the Freelancer to feel the same way so he could give them all The Talk™ and then go buy a bigger bed!

Anyway, I seriously had a lot of fun writing for this oneshot! It's been a while since I had that writing fever again so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #lovely (listener)#freelancer (listener)#vincent solaire #game #damien #huxley #will and caelum are mentioned

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kamipixel · 3 years

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On the, tiring, subject of “queerbaiting” in Good Omens

I’m aware the lack of nuance on this website is well known by now, but sometimes I still have to ask a very loud and very confused “what?” at some of the takes I see on here. Since Good Omens came out over a year ago, every few months, like clockwork, I inevitably see a post talking about how this show is just really “queerbaiting”, or “queer rep lite”, or “bad queer rep” (the sentence “SPN and Good Omens are just as bad” comes to mind as a recent example. Please note that this is not an invitation to bash on SPN). And not only do I have to sigh, because I guess people still haven’t learned what “queerbaiting” means (and I’ve no intention to define it here, there are so many posts on the subject already), but I also have to sigh because, inevitably, there’s always some lovely bout of queerphobia (or internalised queerphobia) that comes prepackaged with these takes.

The language used in these posts is always very “woke”, as the kids would say, and everything is all laid out much more comprehensively than I could ever do. And every time, it’s always an incredible slap to the face. And I’m so incredibly tired of seeing it that I figured, at this point, might as well write my piece on this mess and address what I’ve seen.

I’ve no intention of naming names and putting anyone on blast because that’s not what I’m here for so I’ll paraphrase very simply. These posts always say something to the effect of “the characters aren’t explicitly, canonically, queer, meaning this is queerbaiting”. And yes, said this way, well, why would I ever disagree? Don’t I want confirmed queer representation? And sure, of course I do. But I’m pretty sure that most queer people whose identities are a bit of a moutful, like mine, could tell you that this isn’t what this phrase really mean.

Because what these posts forget to mention is that by “explicit” they mean: “these characters are in a romantic/sexual relationship on screen, these characters kiss (on the mouth) on screen, these characters mention their orientation on screen, these characters say “I love you” in a romantic way on screen...”

Because what these posts forget to mention is that by “queer” they mean: “these specific letters in the LGBT+ alphabet soup and nothing else.”

And so I’ll ignore the fact that most of these arguments brought up when talking of “explicit rep” would feel, to me, incredibly out of character for Aziraphale and Crowley in the context of the show and instead say this for a moment: Good Omens should have the queer rep that I want. Yes, specifically me and only me. I’m going to watch the show again and if Aziraphale and Crowley’s identities are not explicitly moulded to what I want, I’ll make a second post and tell everyone I’ve been led on and that this is just queerbaiting, really.

“Well why the hell should this queer rep fit only what you want to see?” you may rightfully ask. “There so many queer experiences that differ from yours.”

And I’ll tell you: “oh it absolutely shouldn’t, but this is exactly what these posts are insinuating, isn’t it? Only in a very reasonable manner, and with very nice words indeed.”

Let me tell you three things about myself for a moment. I’m aromantic and don’t care much for romantic relationships, I dislike kisses on the mouth very much, and for complicated reasons it took me years before I openly told my girlfriend I loved her.

Curious, isn’t it? That’s the exact opposite of what these queerbaiting posts say I should want to see.

Let me tell you one last thing about myself. I cried when I first watched Good Omens because for the first time ever, I saw characters and a relationship in mainstream media I could identify with.

Not to mention that apparently, I guess, to the people who write these posts, gender doesn’t exist anymore either. Was Crowley switching up his gender expression a whole lot, not “explicit” enough? Or did no one think it mattered because it wasn’t a romantic/sexual orientation? Have we really gone back to the “if they’re not gay nothing else counts” takes now? Really?

So next time I see someone whine about queerbaiting and Aziraphale and Crowley not being “confirmed” gay, or in a romantic relationship, I think I’ll just laugh and say: “why did you think they were? Where did you even get that impression?”

Honestly I have a lot more to say on all of this, but I’m not quite sure how to write it so I suppose this will do for now.

I really do understand the frustration with shows that give you nothing but crumbs, and I know it’s tempting to buy into the whole “all or nothing” trend with queer rep that tumblr likes to push. And It's understandable to be disappointed by the lack of representation you want to see. And you can make as much art, and headcanons, and posts, and stories as you want to fill that gap. And you're free to find other shows that suit you better or make your own thing as well. But don't come to my door crying wolf, wrongfully saying that Good Omens is “bad rep” or “queerbaiting”, and essentially spit in my face by telling me my idea of representation isn't queer enough. That I’m not queer enough.

#good omens #queerbaiting #long post #fandom nonsense i guess #thanks for coming to my tedtalk #i'm so tired you guys #i write stuff sometimes #i didn't have this on my spn ending consequences bingo but i guess here we are #again...

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preciseprose · 3 years

Text

From Nightmares to Dreams (Part 1/3)

Fandom: The Owl House

Chapter synopsis: Luz has a horrible morning which Amity helps remedy.

Author’s note: This fic is the first long-form work of fiction I have written in five years and would not have been possible without the encouragement and support of @sterling-jay. This fic was inspired, however, by @notbirdofprey who asked me: “How do you think Luz and Amity will get together?” Please be aware that my answer to this question involves a lot of angst on both Luz’s and Amity’s part; and, as a result, this fic is relatively angsty. I hope you enjoy it.

- - -

Luz jolted awake, feeling dizzy and uncomfortably warm. She threw her blanket off her and sat up to rub her face. It was slick with some sort of wetness. “Oh,” she groaned. She must have been crying in her sleep. Again.

Suddenly aware of herself, she looked down at her feet. King wasn’t there and her door was closed. He must had left at some point during the night. She laid back down. “At least he didn’t see me this time,” she said quietly.

She prodded around her cot for her phone, finding it after a few moments. She sniffled and wiped her eyes again before powering the phone up. The right-top corner of her lock screen stated the obvious: “No Service.” After hesitating for a few seconds, she opened her messages.

She spent a few minutes reading through old conversations with her mom. It didn’t make her feel better. If anything, it made her feel guilty. Her mother’s messages were caring and warm. She asked if she was having a good evening, if she liked that day’s camp activities, if she was enjoying the food, if she was looking forwards to tomorrow, and so on. In contrast, Luz’s replies were generally short and impersonal. A lot of yeahs, yeps, and nopes. An occasional emoji. Few genuine responses.

She put her phone down and looked up to the ceiling. Even with the moonlight streaming in from her window, it was hard to make the beams out. After a few minutes of holding back, she let herself cry.

“I’m sorry, Mami. I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’m okay. I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’m safe. That I’m not missing. That I didn’t run away.” Her tears grew heavier. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I’m making you worry. I’m sorry for being a bad daughter. You’ve always tried to be a good mom and you don’t deserve this.”

Luz cried until her eyes burned. When she destroyed the teleporter door, she had thought Eda might be able to send her home using magic or by taking her to some special place on the isles. But several weeks ago, Eda had sat down with her on the roof of the Owl House and explained the gravity of her situation: that the door was the only way she knew of to travel between the human realm and the demon realm, and that without the ability to cast spells she wasn’t sure if she would be able to send her home.

She had only barely stopped herself from breaking down. It helped that Eda had taken her hands and, looking directly into her eyes, promised that she would do everything in her power to try to return her home someday. And she had kept that promise so far, spending several hours every other day pouring over books with Lilith.

She wished Eda’s promise was enough to keep her fears under control, but it just wasn't. She kept a decent face up when around Eda and her friends. But when she was by herself, she couldn’t keep the act up. The idea that she might never see her mother again was overwhelming and terrifying. But even worse was the possibility that her mother might think that she disappeared on purpose.

Eventually, her eyes ran dry. Dawn broke soon after.

“I guess I should get up,” she thought. After a few minutes of sniffling and wiping her eyes, she rose from her cot, activated a few light glyphs, and dressed herself. Once done, a realization hit her: “My eyes! Crying makes your eyes puffy, right?”

The closest mirror was in the bathroom down the hall, but she couldn’t risk running into Lilith or King. If she ran into either of them, they would ask questions, and Eda would find out and start worrying about her again, and she didn’t want that. “What do I do? What do I do?” Luz repeated to herself.

She activated another light glyph to help her think. The light reflected off a small object lying nestled in the blanket on her cot. Her phone. “My phone!” she exclaimed in a hushed voice. She walked over to her cot, snatched her phone, and unlocked it with a swipe.

“Okay, how bad could it be?” She opened the front-facing camera. Her stomach clenched.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and it looked like someone had filed the skin under her eyes with abomination goo. “No, no, no, no, no. This is bad, this is so bad.” She pulled and pushed at the fleshy mounds trying to get them to recede. Her attempts did nothing.

The morning sun was already starting to brighten. She needed to act fast. She would need to leave for Hexside within the hour and there was no way she could avoid everyone on her way out. “What do I do? What do I do!”

Luz had no idea how to do anything involving her face. She had never been very interested in make-up and even she had been she didn’t think she could just slap some concealer on her face (not that she had any) and call it a day. She needed help, fast.

“Okay, okay.” She looked to the phone in her hand. “No that’s not going to help, I don’t have service here.” She tossed the phone on her cot and started pacing around the room. Muffled sounds began to emanate through her bedroom walls. The other residents of the Owl House were out of their rooms.

“Oh, I know!” Luz ran over to her school bag and dredged out the small scroll Eda had given her for her birthday. “Penstagram!” She tapped on the scroll and it bounced out of her hand and into the air, unfurled and glowing faintly purple. She grabbed it, thinking about her next move.

“I can’t ask Gus or Willow for help,” Luz thought, grimacing. They were already worried about her enough. Just yesterday, Willow had pressed her about why she had been especially quiet lately. It took their entire walk home to convince her that she was just stressed about homework and helping Eda learn glyph magic.

She didn’t think she could ask Viney or Skara for help either. She had gotten to know each girl better through classes at Hexside, but she didn’t really know either of them that well. And this was a bit too personal to spring on either of them.

That left Amity.

Luz blinked and took a long breath. She had been spending more and more time with Amity lately. On one of her better days last week, she had convinced Eda to let her, Amity, Gus, and Willow to have a “Azura Movie Night Sleepover Extravaganza!” at the Owl House after Eda found a DVD player in a trash worm. She and Amity had ended up cuddling on the couch under a blanket. And it felt so nice.

Amity was warm, and soft, and her hair smelt like wildflowers and sea salt, and Luz had been terrified that her heart was going to jab through her chest and explode on Amity’s back. But eventually, somehow, she managed to fall asleep with her in her arms. But when she woke up, Amity had already dressed in her day clothes and was eating breakfast with Eda. Every time she had tried to talk to her since then Amity had kept the conversation short or turned her head away and said she had something she needed to do or gave some other reason to leave quickly. Luz didn’t know what to think of it.

But that was then, and this was now. Luz had no one else to turn too, and out of all her friends she figured Amity would be the most likely to know how to deal with her situation. She pulled up Amity’s profile and sent a DM.

@glyphwitch (07:03:51): Amity I need your help!!! IT’S URGENT!!!!

@witchchick128 (07:04:27): Luz, what is it? Are you okay?

@glyphwitch (07:05:11): I don’t have time to explain but I need to get rid of these HUGE bags I have under my eyes (don’t ask please) and I have no idea how to deal with them but I need eda to not find out about them and I don’t know what to do and I thought you might and I just don’t want to worry eda about me so please help me

Luz snaped a picture of her face to Amity and dropped herself onto her cot. One minute passed. Luz heard Eda and Lilith having some sort of argument in the kitchen. They were constantly arguing about one thing or another these days. Another minute passed. The argument was now a three-way shouting match between Eda, Lilith, and Hooty. Based solely on volume, Hooty was winning.

Suddenly, the scroll vibrated against her leg. She snatched it up and tapped it. Again, it sprang to life.

@witchchick128 (07:08:34): I’m so sorry, Luz. Mother pulled me away for a tuft of my hair...

@witchchick128 (07:09:13): So, are they like that because of a magical or non-magical cause?

@witchchick128 (07:09:32): You eyes, I mean. Sorry, I wasn’t clear.

@witchchick128 (07:09:43): Your*

Luz laughed despite her situation.

@glyphwitch (07:10:12): non-magical

@glyphwitch (07:10:39): I was, uhhh. crying. a lot… but I’m okay now! really

@witchchick128 (07:11:16): Okay. Do you have any abrasion ointment from the Healing Coven?

@glyphwitch (07:11:42): no. I can’t leave my room or the others might see me

@witchchick128 (07:12:15): Alright. Let me think.

@witchchick128 (07:12:58): You haven’t discovered any glyphs that cast any illusion spells yet, right?

@glyphwitch (07:13:09): no, not yet

@witchchick128 (07:13:41): Okay, so you can’t conceal your eyes with magic. But I’ve seen you summon columns of ice before. Can you use your glyphs to make a bunch of small ice cubes?

@glyphwitch (07:13:53): yeah, I think so

@witchchick128 (07:14:38): Okay, do that. Then get two of your shirts and use them to make two cold compresses. Hold them under your eyes for five minutes. It should make the swelling disappear. If anyone asks you why your eyes are red, just tell them you were up late reading and only got a few hours of sleep.

@glyphwitch (07:14:56): oh my god, thank you Amity!!!

@glyphwitch (07:15:09): you're the best!

Luz shoved the scroll in her bag, then pulled out a pencil and piece of paper and got to work. After a few-second’s thought, she drew a moderately-sized plant glyph surrounded by three inter-connected tiny ice glyphs. She activated the ice glyphs first, creating three tall but slender pillars of ice. Then, concentrating her intent into her hand, she activated the plant glyph. A thick vine with several stems emerged from the paper and wrapped its tendrils around each ice pillar, crushing them into small pieces.

“Yes, it worked!” she said joyfully, impressed with herself. “What next? Oh right, the shirts.” She dashed over to her dirty clothes pile, grabbed the two least objectionable shirts visible, then dashed back over to her cot. Working quickly, she made two compresses using the ice littering the floor, lied back on her cot, and pressed the compresses onto her eyes.

A minute passed without interruption. Then Luz heard her door handle jiggle, followed by a quiet thud. She heard it a second time, and then a third. The fourth time she understood. King was trying to open the door. Before she could call out, she heard a solid impact with the door, followed by a metallic click and a final small thud.

The door began to open. “Luz, get up! It’s almost time for…”

Acting on pure instinct she streaked out of bed and flew against the door, slamming it shut and screaming, “King, don’t come in! I’m naked!” As she spoke, she heard something hard impact the wall across the hall.

“Ow! Jeez, I get it! Gross! How was I supposed to know!?” King shouted through the door. “I get that you wanted to protect me from a potentially scarring experience, but did you have to slam the door so hard? I can feel my brain spinning around inside of my skull! All I wanted to tell you was that breakfast is almost ready! Sheesh!”

“Sorry, King! I’m uh, just. Really self-conscious! I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She paused and looked behind her. In her panic, she had strewn ice everywhere. She rolled her eyes, sighed, and looked back to the door. “I woke up a little late, okay? I still need to get ready. I’ll be down in like ten minutes.”

“Ten whole minutes! Really!?”

“Yes, really! And if you keep talking to me it’s going to take me even longer!”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever, just hurry up, will you? I’m starving and Lilith cooked today so breakfast actually looks good for once!”

She heard his little footsteps trod away. When she was certain he was gone she locked the door and got to work reassembling the cold compresses.

#the owl house #toh #luz noceda #amity blight #lumity #toh king #my fic #from nightmares to dreams #long post

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tmnt-mags · 4 years

Text

Michelangelo x Fem!Reader

Soulmates

Mikey has always been one of my favorites and I feel like he always gets the least amount of love from the fandom. The turtles and reader are 18+ cause that's what I do.

Warnings: brief mention of abuse.

Mikey had been in love with the idea of a soulmate since he could remember. A person made by the universe that will love you the best. For a turtle mutant that lived in the sewers it was the ultimate fantasy. However, Master Splinter had told them it was very unlikely that they would have any. They weren't human after all. Still Mikey held on to hope and dreamed for the day that he might meet his one and only. He was straight as far as he could tell so he went out of his way to watch any video he could find about ladies. He would be the perfect boyfriend. He learned about periods and makeup and watched hair tutorials. He even found a wig and after cleaning it up the best he could he would practice braiding on it. Mikey had also watched videos about the female body, more than just porn, he watched women talk about sex and listened as they complained about human dudes. He couldn't exactly practice, but he would try to prepare best as he could. He would make up for being a mutant by knowing more and being better than any human man.

He was doing a cool down after a pretty intense training session with Leo.

“You did good Mikey, but you can't celebrate after every hit. You lose concentration and will get hurt.” Leo said stretching off to the side.

“Yeah bro you got a pretty good hit on me at the end.” he opened his mouth to stretch his now sore jaw. “Hey leo we’ll be 20 soon right?

“Mikey not this again.” Leo stopped and walked over to his younger brother. “We’ve talked about this, there is almost no chance of any of us having a soulmate.”

“You don’t know that Leo. Donnie doesn’t even know! I don't wanna give up hope.” It was the same argument that they had been having for years and years. His brothers had all seemed to give up on the idea, but Mikey wouldn't.

Mikey counted down the days until their birthday. After meeting April they finally found out their real birthdays from her father's notes. They all hatched on the same day, but at different times. Donnie actually turned out to be the oldest than Raph, Leo, and finally Mikey. He had been hoping that he would turn out to be the oldest but it was meant to be he guessed.

Mikey shot up and looked down at his arm excitedly, but didn't see anything. He wasn't worried though, the day was still young! He grabbed a black sharpie and wrote a simple ‘Hi angel’ on his forearm. He checked it throughout the day but still nothing. His brothers didn't even bother writing anything.

Everyday he would write a message or draw a picture hoping that his soulmate would see it. After 2 months he started to get sad. His dad was the first to take notice, and suggested that Mikey meditate. After an hour with no luck in concentrating, Mikey was about to stop when Splinter sat across from him.

“My soulmate hasn't written me back.” He said, “Maybe you guys have been right all along.”

“I would not worry yet my son. It is possible that your soulmate is younger than you, should you have one.” Splinter reached over to pat Mikey’s knee, “I have always been hopeful that you boys would have one, but I do not want you to be disappointed.”

“Don’t worry about me pops! You know me nothing gets me down!” Mikey cheered and jumped up. He ran out of the dojo throwing a thank you over his shoulder.

Splinter did know his youngest. He was happy and enjoyed having fun, but he was also sensitive. He always had been, and out of all of his sons he worried the most about Mikey and what it would do to him if he didn't have a soulmate. He sighed and decided it would be best to meditate as well. It had always been very helpful to him.

But months passed and soon a year did too and he never heard from his soulmate. Some days it was harder to write his morning message, but he still tried. He didn't want his soulmate to wake up on her 20th birthday with no message. As far as he knew his brothers never even tried to write theirs. Mikey knew they were just afraid of the possibility that they really didn't have one. He was too. He really wanted a soulmate.

It had been a busy 2 weeks. They met a girl, who also happened to be the first human they met, they totally kicked Foot Clan ass, uncovered a super villain plot and saved the city. They truly were heroes now and that was really fucking cool. They had made a new friend in a woman named April. She was pretty and nice and didn't seem to mind the fact that they were giant turtles, after the initial shock of course. He didn't even realize he hadn't written anything on his arm during all of this. He sat in bed and stared down at himself. He didn't write anything for 2 weeks and nothing had changed.There was a painful uncomfortable feeling in his chest as he looked at his arm trying to manifest words there somehow. Nothing had changed. The world didn't end because he didn't write anything. He sighed and laid down; he looked over at the black marker he kept by his bed. He started to reach out for it but instead rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

It had been 3 months now since he had written something on his arm. He tried not to think about it, sometimes he felt a tickle there but whenever he checked there was nothing. His mind was just playing with him. The brothers were on patrol tonight and Mikey was trying not to get distracted but it was one of those days he couldn't help but think about his soulmate. Leo and Raph had already got on to him about it tonight. He realized he should have tried harder when his jump to the next roof fell short and he went crashing down to the fire escape below.

“Mikey!” His brother yelled and came rushing down to see if he was alright.

“Im good dudes,” he grunted and he started to get up. “That hurt though.”

“Are you okay?” The boys jumped and turned and sitting on the steps a couple feet from them was a girl. “Ummmm, hi.”

“Hey” was all the boys could say. She nodded and looked at them, and there were a couple of moments where they all just stared at each other.

“So, i'm gonna take a wild guess here and say this isn't normal for New York?” she said and then pursed her lips.

“No it's not.” Raph grunted at her.

“Did you think that it was?” Donnie questioned. She shrugged at them.

“I'm not from here and it seems like wild things always happen in New York.” The girl defended. Mikey stared at her. She was pretty and was wearing shorts and a large t-shirt that was covered in dried paint. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she had bangs that covered her forehead. She was holding a cup in both hands and looking at them. She didn't seem frightened at all.

“Should I be freaking out?” the pretty girl asked.

“No! You don't need to be afraid of us.” Mikey suddenly forgot about any pain or soreness from his fall and stood up the rest of the way and moved in front of his brothers. “I’m Michelangelo, but everyone calls me Mikey.”

“I heard your name.” She giggled at him but then looked him in the eyes. “You are okay right? That seemed like quite the fall.” the turtle smiled widely and did a spin in the tight space.

“Right as rain baby.”

“Oh so you suddenly don't hurt?” Leo said, crossing his arms.

“The voice of an angel healed me I guess.” Mikey said and gave the girl a wink who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sure it did, lover boy.” Raph said and then smacked the back of Mikey's head who yelped out.

“Not cool bro.” he groaned. “Whats your name angelcakes?” the girl let out a gasp.

“How did you know my name?” she said with surprise. The boys blinked at her dumbly.

“Seriously?” Donnie asked.

“No, my name is (y/n).” She laughed. “What are your names?”

“Oh these are my brothers Donnie, Leo, and Raph!” He motioned at each one and she gave a small wave as he did.

“You’re really not scared?” Donnie asked her quietly.

“A little shocked but not scared.” (Y/n) said happily.

The boys sat and talked to her for a little bit but Leo reminded them that they had a job to do. So with an invitation for them to come back and hang out again they boys parted with their newest friend to continue patrol. When they got back to the lair Mikey felt like he was on cloud nine. She was pretty, nice, and had a great smile. Mikey sat and smiled thinking about (y/n) when his eyes caught sight of a little black marker. He frowned. He wanted to find his soulmate, he really did, but now he didn't want to write anything cause what if it wasn't her. He really wanted it to be her.

“I think I’m in love~” he sighed.

“Sure you are Mike.” Leo grunted. “Go to sleep, it was a long night.”

Mikey sighed and rolled onto his side. He looked at the marker and felt guilty for some reason. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Life was good the boys went over to (y/n)’s apartment about once a week and April would come down to the lair to visit them about the same amount. A couple of months after they met they introduced the girls and they got along really well. Mikey sat April down and told her that he was sorry but his heart now belonged to (y/n). She smiled at him and patted his shoulder and told him that she forgave him and even though it would be hard she would heal. His brothers laughed but he ignored it.

April was working and the boys were at (y/n)’s place. They had eaten pizza and were talking about whatever came to mind.

“Do you guys have soulmates?” (Y/n) asked rather suddenly.

“Well we actually don't know, but we think it's very unlikely that we will.” Donnie replied.

“Oh. I hope you do.” she said. Mikey felt nervous as he asked his question.

“Do you have one?” she looked over at him.

“Not yet, but I hope I do. I’ve written on my arm every day since I turned 20 6 months ago.” she said, pulling her legs up to sit criss cross on the couch.

“We missed your birthday?” Leo asked.

“It was like a month before we met.” she shrugged.

“I can't believe I missed my true-love's birthday!” Mikey exclaimed and threw his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

“You're squishing me!” She pushed away from the orange clad turtle laughing. “Do you guys want soulmates?” the boys quieted, and fidgeted awkwardly.

“I mean yeah but what's the point? Looks at us! We’re freaks.” Raph called out before crossing his arms.

“But soulmates are made for you! The universe wouldn't have given us someone who is scared of us!” Mikey defended. It was a conversation that had been had many times.

“Actually I'm not sure about that.” (y/n) said. Four pairs of eyes turned towards her.

“What do you mean?” Donnie asked.

“Well my parents were soulmates and my dad used to beat my mom senseless until he was arrested and they divorced when I was 8. They were soulmates but he used to hurt her so much.” (y/n) looked down at her hands. “It took her awhile to realize that just because the universe made you soulmates didn’t mean you were meant to be.”

“What happened after that?” Leo almost whispered the question.

“Well she met my step dad who is a great guy. His soulmate isnt the romantic type so they just ended up being close friends, and then he met my mom. They fell in love and he became my step-dad. You don't need to be soulmates to love each other, sometimes soulmates are just platonic, and sometimes soulmates aren’t good for eachother.”

“I’m sorry.” Mikey said softly.

“Don't be! Everyone is happy now. I mean, I don't know about my dad. He's never tried to reach back out. I kinda don't want him to anway.” (y/n) looked back up at the turtles.

“So you must hate the idea of soulmates.” Raph suggested.

“When did I say that? I want a soulmate, I really do. I want that fairy tale happily ever after people always talk about.” She sighed and smiled. “That's why I write my soulmate everyday. I had wished that they would be older than me but I guess they are a bit younger. I just hope that when I'm 42 I don't suddenly get writing from my soulmate who just turned 20.” She laughed.

“That can happen?” she looked over at Donnie and nodded.

“You guys don't know that?” the boys, except for Mikey, nodded.

“We never thought we would have them, so beyond movies I don't think any of us really looked. Didn’t want false hope.” Leo looked at her.

“Well I did cause I’ve always wanted a soulmate!” Mikey interjected.

“Mikey used to write on his arm every single day but hasn't in months.” Raph told her.

“Hey how do you know that?” Mikey looked at him.

“You think we didn't notice? We just never brought it up cause we know how you are.” Leo mumbled. The youngest turtle pouted at this.

“Why did you stop?” (y/n) asked. Mikey sighed and leaned his head back.

“It just kinda felt pointless. I would write something every day and nothing ever happened and then I realized one day that I hadn’t written anything for 2 weeks and still nothing changed. It just kinda felt pointless lately.” Mikey told everyone. There were flashes of sadness or pity from his brothers. They always knew the day would come when Mikey realized that none of them had soulmates. They knew it would come, but they didn't want it too.

“Well thats dumb.” (y/n) said rather bluntly. “What if today is her birthday and she's waiting to see if her soulmate will write anything. There were girls in my highschool that swore that they wouldn't write first and that their soulmate had to be the one to write first.” She said, leaning into Mikey.

“Well I think thats kinda dumb.” Mikey pouted at her. She rolled her eyes and leaned forward grabbing a cup of markers.

“Here write something!” she said, giving him the cup. He grabbed a black marker and opened it.

“Fine. Anything for you angelcakes.” he blew a kiss at her and looked at his arm. He felt a weird tightness when he brought the marker to his skin. He decided to write a simple ‘Hi I’m Mikey. What's your name.’

(Y/n) shivered as he started to write and felt a tickle on her arm. She gasped and pulled up her sleeve. The brothers' eyes widened as they watched Mikey’s hand writing appear on her arm next to the old writing that she had done. Mikey did not notice.

“Mikey! Look!” The oldest turtle said pointing at (y/n). Mikey looked up at Donnie and then at (y/n)’s arm.

“Oh haha very funny. That's not really nice.” He rolled his eyes.

“What Mikey? It's not a joke!” She put her arm right next to his and told him to keep writing. He drew a squiggle and watched as it seemed to magically appear on his friend's arm.

“What? Dude! Thats awesome!” Mikey cried out. This was the best thing in the world! His angelcakes was his soulmate!

“Why haven't you written me back?” She asked slightly outraged. Mikey stopped and stared at her.

“Cause I haven’t gotten any writing.” Mikey said, remembering how she said she wrote to her soulmate everyday. The room fell quiet and Mikey felt the beginnings of a horrible pain in his heart.

“So I’m yours, but you're not…” She trailed off feeling a sudden wave of emotion and felt tears in her eyes.

“Um sorry to interrupt, but I don't think there's any reason to get upset.” Donnie started. He grabbed the marker that matched the writing she already had on her arm. “Try writing something (y/n).” She nodded quietly as a few tears fell. She opened the cap and wrote hello. Mikey felt a tickle and shivered at the phantom writing on his arm, but he looked down and there was nothing there.

“Nothing” Mikey whispered. He felt like the world was crashing down. A moment so happy followed by something so heartbreaking. Raph and Leo looked down and away. Their faces filled with sorrow for their brother, and for the hope they had just felt for themselves.

“Now hold on just a moment.” Donnie rolled his eyes. “(Y/n) why do you write in that color?”

“It's my favorite.” she sniffled.

“Do you always write in green?” He pressed.

“Yeah, like I said it's my favorite and I want my soulmate to know that. I feel like it makes it a little more personal.” (y/n) continued. Donnie leaned forward and grabbed her marker. Everyone watched as he took the marker and held it up to mikey.

“Everyone look.” They all looked and Mikey’s eyes widened.

“It's the same color as me.” he mumbled.

“(Y/n) please try again with black.” She quickly snatched up the black marker and wrote ‘I hope this is Mikey.’

“Donnie you're a genius!” Mikey tackled his brother and then quickly went back to the couch thrusting his arm at (y/n). “Do it again!”

She quickly drew a heart while staring at his arm and watched as the black lines began to appear on Mikey as she drew them. She practically threw herself at mikey wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his face.

“Woah. I think that we should probably leave.” Leo suggested as his two other brothers got up and followed him to the window.

“Thank you Donnie!” (y/n) shouted out. Donnie gave a thumbs up and went out the window and closed it behind him.

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for 5 months without finding out!” Mikey said nuzzling her face and wiping whatever tears were still there.

“I can't believe I never thought to write in black!” She laughed and kissed his cheek.

“Wait!” He leaned back. “The turtle thing doesn't bother you? Really? Truly?”

“Of course not! I’ve had a big crush on you for like 2 months now! This is the best news ever!” his soulmate cheered. “Also I just kissed you like 10 times.”

Mikey laughed and held her close, kissing her cheek. He had a soulmate! His soulmate was a beautiful, funny, nice girl who liked him!

“I knew there was a reason I’ve always loved green.” She said with a smile and leaned in to kiss mikey’s lips. It was a nice sweet kiss and just what he always thought a first kiss should be, yet so much better. He sighed and relaxed against the couch with (y/n) in his arms.

He had a soulmate and things couldn't be better.

#tmnt 2014 #tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #tmnt michelangelo

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wolfish-trickster · 3 years

Text

Lost traveler

5/?

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1 573

Tag list: @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld

Summary: A mysterious traveler visits Asgard and thanks to an accident has to stay for longer than she expected. Bonds are created but also shattered along the way.

A/N: reader has elemental powers, something like avatar the last airbender.

Sun was finally setting. Chirping of birds was replaced by owls howling. A cold breeze ruffled your hair. The entire forest became calmer. You loved it.

You wanted to be alone for a few while and enjoy the tranquility of the night time. So you volunteered to gather wood for bonfire.

Unfortunately Thor and Fandral went with you, more to show off their muscles than help you. Both of them were....odd. They wanted to be around you all the time, telling you of their strength and abilities (Thor wanted to show you some of his lightnings but got quickly turned down by Loki) and generaly tried to impress you.

You soon found out that Thor is a god of thunder, not a lightning thrower like you previously thought. Loki was god of mischief and chaos.

Sif told you she was to be the goddess of fertility but thretened you to keep it a secret

The rest were also gods, but they didn't have a certain domains like princes. They were just warrior gods.

When you returned with arms full of twigs and branches Loki, Volstagg, Hogun and Sif were already sitting around a circle made from stones. Loki jumped to help you and all of you started to place one branch after another inside the stone circle.

"I will lit it," Thor annoumced after you finished.

"Thor, I already told you, your powers are unstable. You can't use them otherwise you will hurt everybody around you!" Loki scolded him.

"Relax, it will be alright. Everybody, stay back," Thor pushed you behind him as his fingers started to sparkle. Suddenly a loud noise teared through the air as a giant lightning striked from the sky. But to a nearby tree, not the fire place.

"Perfect Thor, just perfect," Loki took out the fire from the burning tree with his magic. He played around with flames a little while longer. You watched him transform them into a bird and make it fly around you. You giggled at his tricks.

"Show off," Thor spat

"Look who's talking. I'm not the one who took off his shirt whenever she was watching," Loki grinned.

You ignored them and their argument. Your fingers were itching. You desperately wanted to firebend, but you couldn't. Not yet.

Sif nudged you. "They are like giant kids, aren't they?"

"Siblings argue. It's like their specialty," you shrugged.

"You seem like a sibling professional. Do you have one?"

You watched as Loki made the bonfire inbetween arguments. "No, but I met a lot of them on my travels," you both sat down as did the others.

"Speaking of travels, can I ask you something?" Hogun sat to your other side.

"Sure."

Loki plopped down directly opposite of you. "If you want to know where she is from, she won't tell. I tried," he smirked at you.

"I can't reveal everything the first day! Gotta keep some of my secrets," you laughed.

"That was not what I wanted to know. I meant to ask you if you've been to Midgard?" Hogun brought your attention back to him.

"Depends on what it looks like."

"Well," he began, "it's full of forests, animals, small stone villages,-"

"Don't forget mortals," Thor interrupted.

"Mortals?"

Thor nodded. "Aye. They are small, weak, quite dumb."

"From what I've read," Loki slipped in, "they aren't dumb. They are just slow learners."

Thor rolled his eyes. "Where's the difference?"

"The difference is, dear brother mine, that you only have to tell them once to not use their powers."

Thor showed him what you suspect to be a lewd gesture. In response Loki blew him a kiss.

You giggled. "No, I don't think I've been there. Why are you asking? Have you visited it?"

All of them shooktheir heads. "The Allfather forbade us to travel across the nine realms. He says we aren't old enough."

"Oh," you sighed.

"May I ask Astrid?" Volstagg broke the silence. "What is the most interesting place you've visited," Volstagg took his chance

You thought for a while. All of the planets are interesting in their own way. "Hmmm, I don't know. One of the more exciting planets has to be Pandora I guess. I have stayed there with a Na'vi clan and they showed me how to hunt and survive in woods. There are giant mountains hovering in the air with beautiful waterfals and the whole planet glows at night and there are dragons and giant wolves and spiritual trees," you counted down from memmory.

"Sounds exciting indeed. I must visit it someday," Loki mused.

"You must! It's really easy to find it. It's a blue planet rotating around a gas giant."

"So it is techicaly a moon, correct?"

"Yeah, it is," you said excitedly. You finaly had someone to talk to. Frigga was right, you will find a friwnd among them.

"Booo, nerds," Sif made fun of you two. "Now tell me, are at least these Na'vi guys handsome and strong? You can hardly find any good material among this," she gestured to boys sitting around fire.

"I will preted I haven't heard that," Fandral brushed his fingers through his hair.

"If you are into blue giants," you shrugged.

The atmosphere changed suddenly. It was no longer lighthearted and playful. All of them had a stone hard cold stare. You shifted in your seat. Did you say something wrong?

Thor coughed. "We don't really get along with blue giant folk," he fisted chunks of grass by his sides.

"What you just described wasn't Jotunheim, was it?" Hogun asked.

"It can't be. Jotunheim is a frozen piece of a rock. She said Pandora has floating mountains and rivers," Loki burried his dagger into earth at his feet.

"Are there also blue giants on Jotunheim?" you chose your words carefully.

"Yes, it's the land of Frost Giants. Monsters we talk about at night."

Hogun cleared his throat. "I have seen the injury they cause. On one soldier a long time ago. His whole arm was frozen and black as coal. I heard aome healers in halls talking abouthis whoel arm falling off when they touched it."

"They say," Thor said in a dark tone, "they know a secret passage through realms. And one day, they will invade Asgard and freeze everyone in their path. When they comw here, I swear to all my ancestors I will-"

His telling interrupted a distant screech from mountain which startled everyone. It sounded familiar, you just didn't know where from.

"I think that's a cue to shift to another story," Sif said.

"Agreed," everyone said simultaniously.

~~~

Cracking wood lulled everybody to sleep. After hours and hours of war stories and forgotten legends one by one young warriors and a traveler laid to get rest.

Loki had a light sleep. His mind was still wrapped around Frost Giants. How theymight enter Asgard any second and slaughter them all in their sleep. If what Thor told was true.

A sound of someone standing up and walking away woke him completely. He knew how each person's step sounded, this was unfamiliar one. 'Where are you going little traveler?'

He stood up and followed you, hidden in shadows.

You stopped near a river deep in the forest. Asgardian moon shone bright in its water.

He watched you sit down next to it and stare at the night sky through oak leaves.

Just as he wanted to walk towards you, you started to play with little droplets of water in the air.

"What a turn of events," you dropped them upon hearing his voice.

"Loki, you- why are you up? Did I wake you?"

"No," he sat down next to you, "you didn't."

You started to fidget with your fingers. "How much did you see?"

"Enough. Why didn't you tell me you were a sorcorer as well?"

"A what?"

Loki chuckled. "You called me a warlock, remember? We call those who deal with magic sorcorers. One of their ability is aquakinesis."

"Huh?" you looked so cute when you were confused. Loki made note to confuse youmore often.

"Water control."

"Oh, sorry. I call it waterbending."

Loki hummed. "Makes sense."

"Sooo," you looked at him, "are you going to tell them?" you pointed towards where the group was sleeping.

"Why would I? It's your power. Your secret. You tell them when you are ready. But," he pulled a ball of water from the river and held it above his palm, "I can teach you more of that waterbending than just control few droplets. If you'd like me to, that is."

You smiled. "I'd like that. Oh and by the way," you looked to side and scratched your head, "Astrid isn't my real name."

"I know."

"What?" you looked at him startled.

"I can tell when people are lying, and you," he placed his palm on your shoulder, "are a terrible liar," he chuckled.

Your giggle joined his. "Sounds fair. Anyways, I'm Y/N," you axtended your hand.

Loki took it in his own and bowed his head. "Pleasure to meet you Y/N. I am Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief," and hopefully he can add 'your friend' to the list of titles.

#loki x reader #loki odinson #loki #thor odinson #loki fluff #young loki #young thor

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dehydratedpool · 3 years

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hello again!! it’s the beginning of a new month, meaning a new fic rec post!! here are some fics that i read this month that are just... exquisite and deserve all the love and attention <3

there aren’t as many as last time unfortunately, since i was quite busy this past month, but i promise next month won’t fall short! ((fics that i’ve reread this month are indicated with a **))

Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table [11k] by runaway_train @runaway-train-works

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or; The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

--> this is a new comfort fic for me tbh. i got rec’d this after louis tweeted about getting his wisdom teeth removed, and i’m so SO glad i decided to give it a read. it’s so precious and lovely and personally, i found it to be a quick read. it’s the kind of fic that makes me both warm and fuzzy inside but also highly upset that i’m single and will surely be alone forever

Just Let Me [14k] by HelloAmHere

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

--> ok LISTEN. as some of you know, i just recently got into reading a/b/o fics and this one is definitely at the top of my fave a/b/o fics out there. it’s an interesting take on the trope, almost a bit more realistic in my opinion, and to quote the author’s note, “’what if a/b/o but less biological determinism?’”. i believe i found this one through a masterpost of “touch-deprivation fics”, so if that’s your thing, give this one a chance!

my ugly mouth kept running [4k] by theankletattoo @hadestyles

Another seed, another try except they know what caused the first wilt. They will be careful, they will be kind and together they will nurture it to life.

sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

--> rori, the author, never fails to disappoint when it comes to all of her works. i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, she’s so incredibly fucking talented it’s unreal. her imagery is so vivid and real it leaves simultaneously everything and nothing to the imagination. as usual, h and l’s dynamic in this is an addicting portion to this fic that has you anticipating how their dynamic will shift and grow up until the end. if you’ve yet to read any of rori’s work, i suggest you add that to your to-do list for the month, and get a head start to her collection with this one!

**As Wicked As Anything Could Be [21k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

It starts when Louis decides that he wants to lose his cherry and announces that he thinks the best way to do that is by going to a gay club. Naturally, Harry can’t let him go alone, so he tags along and spends the night rating guys with Louis until someone finally catches Louis’s eye.

Harry shoves him out to dance with the guy, and he can already tell that it’s going to be a quick and dirty hook up, so he’s not surprised that Louis and the guy disappear into the bathroom ten minutes later.

It is a surprise when Louis comes out not even two minutes later, pale and clammy, grabs Harry by the hand and drags him right out the door.

Somehow Harry comes to the decision that it would be a good idea for him to be in the room with Louis while Louis gets laid.

It’s a stupid fucking decision.

--> i discovered this fic a while ago on a whim and i have zero regrets. this is absolutely on my top ten fave fics list (that has yet to exist but perhaps i’ll post it one day). whoknows is a well known author within the fandom, so i’m sure i don’t have to say much about their immense talent, but SERIOUSLY, their plot progression, even their use of dialogue is wonderful in every way. as a writer, i envy them lmao. this fic takes me on a rollercoaster every time i read it, it’s yet another comfort fic of mine and never fails to disappoint every time i pick it up again. please, do yourselves a favor this april and read this.

Keeping The Flame Alive [19k] by whoknows @crazyupsetter

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

--> yes, for the first time in dehydratedpoolfics history of fic recs even tho i’ve only been doing this for a month i am rec’ing the same author twice, but seriously, how could i not??? this fic took me on a literal journey like... wtf. i have no words. seriously, i have none, i’m just that blown away, go read it for yourself .

**a trail of honey through it all [27k] by bruisedhoney @yvesaintlourent

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

--> okay look. i may or may not have a slight obsession with this fic. i reread it constantly, mostly for the iconic line, “are we fuckin’ or fightin’?”, because how can i not scream over that?? ((also patiently waiting for the sequel)) this is a literary masterpiece, one that defines an entire generation of this fandom i stg. but in all seriousness, hayley, the author, does such a wonderful job of giving the reader a vivid look into “nowhere, georgia”, and as a southern gal myself, i absolutely adore the itty bitty pieces of southern culture embedded into this, the tiny quirks that make this fic authentic. i could probably go on forever on why this fic is so iconic, but perhaps you should read it for yourself instead *wink* *wink*

SO. that’s all for this month!! if you read any of these, first of all, be sure to read the tags and author’s note (if any) before starting, AND please don’t forget to leave a quick kudos or comment, it means more than you may ever know <3

#fic recs #fic rec #yourlarrysource #hlcreators #hljournal #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #fanfiction #writing #march 2021 fic recs

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moiraineswife · 3 years

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Jasnah Meta - The Importance of Context

AKA: PLEASE stop saying that Jasnah is pro-genocide when she is. Not. At all. In any way. Shape or form. Whatsoever.

TL;DR: Nowhere, at any point, in four ginormous books of text, does Jasnah ever say ‘you know what’s great? Genocide.’ She never even implies. It she never even actually, seriously, suggests it. Please stop saying she does as though it’s canon I lose 12 years of my life every time it’s mentioned.

AND NOW FOR THE LONG VERSION BECAUSE Y’ALL KNOW I CAN’T LEAVE IT AT THAT!!!!!

PLEASE NOTE! THERE WILL BE SOME MINOR RHYTHM OF WAR SPOILERS IN HERE. PLEASE AVERT YOUR EYEBALLS IF THIS IS A DISTRESSING CONCEPT TO YOU.

So first things first, let us discuss The Scene Itself:

“Yes. The answer is obvious. We need to find the Heralds.”

Kaladin nodded in agreement.

“Then,” Jasnah added, “we need to kill them.”

“What?” Kaladin demanded. “Woman, are you insane?”

“The Stormfather laid it out,” Jasnah said, unperturbed. “The Heralds made a pact. When they died, their souls traveled to Damnation and trapped the spirits of the Voidbringers, preventing them from returning.”

“Yeah. Then the Heralds were tortured until they broke.”

“The Stormfather said their pact was weakened, but did not say it was destroyed,” Jasnah said. “I suggest that we at least see if one of them is willing to return to Damnation. Perhaps they can still prevent the spirits of the enemy from being reborn. It’s either that, or we completely exterminate the parshmen so that the enemy has no hosts.” She met Kaladin’s eyes. “In the face of such an atrocity, I would consider the sacrifice of one or more Heralds to be a small price.”

“Storms!” Kaladin said, standing up straight. “Have you no sympathy?”

“I have plenty, bridgeman. Fortunately, I temper it with logic. Perhaps you should consider acquiring some at a future date.”

So the only time Jasnah actually brings up this concept it’s to, hyperbolically, point out that asking the Heralds to return to Braize and trap the Fused may not be the worst idea.

She’s not actually suggesting this as a valid or legitimate tactic. It’s to contrast the plan Kaladin just called her ‘insane’ for suggesting (I bet that’s gonna hurt a million times more than it already does in 900 years when we get Jasnah’s book and backstory but hey. Back on topic) and point out that, in the face of the apocalypse, this is the kind of level they have to think on.

I’ve already talked about the nuances of this scene at length here, so I’ll just do a quick summary: Jasnah is not as composed about any of this internally as she makes out to be - even what she suggests with the Heralds.

When we see her alone with Ivory, reading Taln’s repeated mantra, Ivory notes that she’s troubled. The words (and where he was/how he was being treated when they were recorded) is enough to trigger a twenty year old flashback in her.

This scene is one of the clearest moments (along with the Kharbranth thug scene, I suspect) where Jasnah’s outward projection of her internal feelings and thoughts least matches up with reality.

In spite of the inflammatory remark that sparks this all off, she doesn’t want to assassinate any Heralds. She quite clearly says she wants to “see if one of them is WILLING to return to Damnation.” She wants to have a conversation with them, understand the Oathpact, and see if any of them would consent to buying them some time. She is not suggesting they knife one of the Heralds in a back alley. That’s Moash’s job.

This is supported by what she does in canon. Jasnah is actually the one who recognises Taln and Ash and, somehow, manages to persuade them to join her at Urithiru and help. She treats them with nothing but dignity and respect in her scenes with them in Rhythm of War, and tries to find out more about the Oathpact and their options - as she said she wanted to do.

But since Jasnah is a Kholin, which means the ‘D’ in her DNA stands for DRAMA, she doesn’t say that, instead she says: “let us find the Heralds and kill them.” (I love her so much y’all. Ahem. Anyway).

But there’s method to this madness, too. Please click the ‘keep reading’ button to discover why! (have to turn my own posts into clickbait bc they’re so long I have to put in a cut to spare ur dashboards).

Jasnah likes to push people. She likes to force them to think, and consider all angles of a problem, and come to terms with their own thoughts and opinions. This is one of the things that frustrates Shallan about Jasnah in TWOK:

Shallan caught a victorious glimmer in her eye. She wasn’t necessarily advocating ideas because she believed them; she just wanted to push Shallan. It was infuriating. How was Shallan to know what Jasnah really thought if she adopted conflicting points of view like this?

-TWOK 36

Jasnah doesn’t want to brutally murder the Heralds and force them to return to their maddening idea of hell. But in phrasing it as she does, she can get an insight into Kaladin. Despite the fact we know him very well at this point, this is, this is the first time Jasnah has interacted with him on-screen, and only the second time she’s met him ever.

“That Windrunner. What do you think of him, Shallan? I find him much as I imagined his order, but I have only met him once. It has all come so quickly. After years of struggling in the shadows, everything coming to light—and despite my years of study—I understand so very little.”

Oathbringer, 33

Jasnah in that scene is deliberately being as exaggerated, ruthless, cold, and harsh as she can get away with. She’s trying to push Kaladin. She wants to bait responses from him, to get an idea of what kind of man he is, and what he stands for. She focuses entirely on him on that scene, and the reactions we as readers get see that as well.

“If you wish, Captain,” Jasnah snapped, “I can get you some mink kits to cuddle while the adults plan. None of us want to talk about this, but that does not make it any less inevitable.”

“I’d love that,” Kaladin responded. “In turn, I’ll get you some eels to cuddle. You’ll feel right at home.”

Jasnah, curiously, smiled.

Jasnah likes to be pushed as well. She likes to have people push back with her, and stand up for themselves, assert themselves, make their arguments. She all but encourages Dalinar to publicly do so in RoW.

Socially, in spite of Kaladin’s rank or status as a Windrunner, it’s probably 100% Not Acceptable to ask an Alethi princess if she wants a basket full of eels to cuddle because she is one, effectively. But Jasnah’s unphased - and even pleased - by Kal’s response. She likes that she’s seeing this from him, that he’s unguarded, and passionate, and more than willing to go toe-to-toe with her, which few people are.

Also, because I foresee potential problems in this meta that I would like to nip in the bud right now, I don’t think that Jasnah is doing this to play with people? That’s not really in her nature or who she is. There’s a purpose to everything she does, and there’s a purpose to her doing this, too.

With Shallan it was to encourage her to think for herself and form her own thoughts and opinions. Just before in that scene, Shallan asked why Jasnah couldn’t just tell her what to think and what was the right philosophy to have in life. Jasnah replied it was something she had to discover for herself - and that’s how she approaches all of their studies.

Jasnah never teaches Shallan what to think, or even what happened, despite that being the meat of her study. Instead, she teaches Shallan how to think, how to study, how to learn, how to critically reason, and how to form and argue her own thoughts and conclusions.

With Kal, I think it’s a quick and brutal way of quickly getting to grips with a new, very important, element in what’s going on in her world. Remember, too, that one of Jasnah’s most obvious aims, aside from protecting the world, is protecting her family. And Kaladin is very close to everyone that she loves and holds most dear, while she knows nothing about him.

However, something else that’s important to note, which, for me anyway, RoW all but confirmed: Jasnah has low cognitive empathy.

She’d come to realize, early in her youth, that she didn’t approach relationships the same way everyone else seemed to. Her partners in the past had always complained that she was too cold, so academic. That had frustrated her. How was she to learn what others felt if she couldn’t ask them?

Chapter 99 really was an absolute fucking gift, I mean really. Asexuality AND low empathy, all in one go. What a delight.

This little snippet can be read as her being asexual, potentially, but I actually think it reads more heavily and obviously about her being neurodivergent? And specially low cognitive empathy. Brandon says that, to him, Jasnah is not autistic spectrum, but you just keep giving me more evidence to say she is buddy!! Anyway. Diagnostic debates aside.

I would guess some of y’all don’t know what the heck I mean by ‘cognitive empathy’ (I didn’t before I researched all of this a couple of years ago).

There are two types of empathy, in strict psychology terms (and then there’s the colloquial way we use it to just mean ‘a good person with feelings’ which drives me BANANAS but that’s a rant for another day):

Affective empathy - which basically means ‘this person around me is happy/sad/excited, I am also now feeling that way. Because emotion is infectious like a cold! How thrilling’.

Cognitive empathy - is the ability a person has to pick up on/know what others are feeling without having to be told. Using tone/body language/facial expression etc etc. It’s something I, and a lot of other autistic people, are bad at.

So is Jasnah!

Her previous partners disliked her probably verbally vibe checking them every other week to find out where they were at. Jasnah was frustrated because how the heck else is she meant to know wtf?? What an absolute mood this woman is. Anyway.

This revelation/confirmation makes a LOT of Jasnah scenes make a lot more sense. Including: chapter 64, and her insistence, to the point of it almost being illogical, that she fight without her Surgebinding to try and get as clear a picutre of what her soldiers are facing as she can. Jasnah starts off that chapter by saying she’s never actually been in a war before, and states throughout that she wasn’t prepared for what it was actually like.

Her low empathy means that, without a personal context/experience to relate to and draw emotional experience from, she struggles to understand exactly what her troops are going through.

Obviously she knows that ‘war is bad, battles are scary and not fun’. But she has no way of emotionally relating/truly understanding what they’re feeling. This is one of the reasons I think it’s so important to her, despite Ivory’s chiding, to do it that way so that she can understand.

Similar thing is happening here with Kaladin. Jasnah struggles to instinctively Get Vibes from people, so she goes about things in a very scholarly way.

She does research and makes notes (see: her little folio on the highprinces (which, by the way, misses out on several important aspects of them Shallan picks up on pretty quickly by the power of Intuition), she asks questions - and she sets up scenarios that push people into blatant emotion so she can observe and get an idea of what makes them tick.

TL;DR TAKE TWO: Jasnah does not want to murder all of the Singers. Jasnah never says she wants to. Jasnah only uses it as a ‘see, asking the Heralds to go back to Damnation isn’t actually that bad now is it?’ hyperbolic counterpoint after Kaladin asked her if she was insane. Jasnah is not actually what she pretends to be in that scene. She is but a hapless gay who cannot detect emotions so she has to conduct her Vibe Checks differently from other people. She is highly valid in every way and i stan her.

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hinac0lada · 4 years

Text

LET’S FALL IN LOVE FOR THE NIGHT

900 SPECIAL — LET’S FALL IN LOVE FOR THE NIGHT

CHARACTER PAIRING: AKAASHI KEIJI X READER

WARNINGS: none

ALEX’S NOTE: hello lovely people! me and riss would like to thank you for helping us reach 900!! thank you all for appreciating our works and giving it some love. to compensate, i decided to post this song fic i made which was inspired by FINNEAS’ - Let’s Fall In Love For The Night . if you can, please do listen to it while reading the fic, enjoy!

"he broke up with me, i should've seen this coming" i heard you say, a dry laugh coming from the other line, and then silence. i fiddled around with my fingers, worried about your state of mind. i knew this was coming, you were blinded with the love you had for that douche, but i could never blame you for loving someone. it was his fault, after all, for not seeing how amazing you are.

i sighed at the sound of your sobs that you struggled to suppress. we've been in situations like these before where you'd call me in the middle of the night after a heated argument, while i try to convince you to at least take a break from your relationship, but then i fail miserably because you adored that son of a gun too much. and in the end, you'd tell me you'll endure the pain until you couldn't.

i should get used to it by now, but no matter how repetitive this circumstance gets, i could still feel my blood boil every time i imagine the sight of you, sobbing on the floor of your shared apartment in a dimly lit room, all alone. all because of your loving boyfriend.

"k-keiji, i should've listened t-to you..i prepared for this moment, but why does it still hurt?" you managed to let out in between your whimpers. i could hear my heart crack, how could i let this happen to you? this was by far the worst you've ever been in— the lowest of the lows, and i don't want you to be like this anymore. and so, unlike most lonely nights, this time, i'll be by your side.

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"w-what do i do now, keiji? he wants me to move out . ."

"..you can stay with me for a while, and i'm not taking no for an answer, (y/n)."

"..alright alright, thank you so much keiji, i owe you one."

"no problem. now pack your bags, i'll pick you up at 25."

i know it was impulsive of me— maybe even thoughtless as i've forgotten i made plans with bokuto tonight, but i can't just let you swim in your own tears. i want to help you mend your heart, which i should've done long ago .

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exactly 25 minutes later, i arrive in front of the apartment complex you once shared with your— now ex— lover. your tear-stained face, accompanied with puffy red eyes that usually radiated joy was filled with deep melancholy, a complete contrast to your lively visual.

i hastily got out of the car, intending to help you with your luggage until i was greeted with a tight embrace, you clung onto me as though your life depended on it, with your face buried in my chest.

your tears poured like waterfalls, soaking my shirt. but i didn't mind, this was nothing but a piece of fabric compared to how much i value you. but how could he let you, a literal angel— a goddess if you will, disregard you just like that? how could he turn a blind eye to your selflessness just for his selfish desires?

i regained my composure, gently wrapping my arms around your quivering figure, shaking from your uncontrollable sobs. i caressed your hair and rubbed soothing circles on your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear in an attempt to calm your frustrations.

i know you're trying your best not to burst right then and there, in the front passenger seat of my car. the drive was tranquil yet i could feel the slow, burning tension. i could sense the way you're choking back the lump in your throat from how loud your heart thumped in your eardrums while you tried distracting yourself by looking out at the city lights as they passed by in a blur.

i reached out for your hand while my other kept steady on the steering wheel, keeping my focus on the road. a smile made its way onto my lips, eyeing your flushed cheeks from the corner of my eyes. "let's forget about that jerk for now. why don't we have fun tonight?" i questioned, coming to a halt once the traffic light flashed red.

my gaze shifts from the road to your expression, feeling the heavy weight on my chest uplift, relieved to finally see you grinning. pools of (e/c) getting more vibrant every second, your grip on my hand tightening. a glimpse of green flared— a 'go' signal.

as if on queue, the radio played your favorite song, making me quietly sing along, hoping you would join in eventually. and when you did, the atmosphere shifted into a more gleeful one, the car ride filled to the brim with singing and laughter, your honey coated voice sounding like a beautiful song that i would never get tired of.

i still don't know how we went from eating to our heart's content, to end up doing karaoke. purple and pink neon lights set the mood of the room, your voice echoed throughout the small space, swaying your hips to the beat.

you're such a strong person, it's crazy. it's like the heartache you felt just hours ago, never was there in the first place. i've always admired how even if you went through the depths of hell and back, at the end of the day, you'd pick yourself back up and stay optimistic through your hardships.

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"keiji come on, sing with me!"

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you snapped me out of my thoughts and tugged me towards you, handing me a microphone. your sunny disposition has a way of rubbing off on those around you. i'm not one to let loose easily, but miraculously, it only takes you to let out this side of mine. it started off as just you, but then it transitioned to a duet. and now we're having a full blown mini concert.

the night was still young, we're unproblematic and carefree, not caring of what lies ahead for tomorrow. will we ever know?

"sometimes i wishhis mom just swallowed him.."

"y/n!"

"what? you'd wish the same too.."

"..yeah, you're not wrong about that"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

you cackled while i chuckled along with you. it's 1 am and we got back with a tub of ice cream which we impulsively bought after the karaoke session. we sat on the couch in our pajamas, putting on a random TV show even though we weren't planning on watching, instead, i opted to listen to you venting about your ex, making commentary here and there.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

"looking back, i don't really know what i saw in that jerk.."

"i guess you could say, love does make you go blind"

"does love make you blind, or is love blind?"

"i don't know, maybe both?"

time flew by fast and all our nonsense to intellectual conversations resulted in us trying to finish the gallon of ice cream while watching some TV series. i observed your eyes trying to blink away the feeling of tiredness, the activities of today starting to wear you down and make you lethargic. your constant yawning and droopy eyelids was a dead give away, you were like a child trying to stay awake.

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"you're too resilient, you need to get your rest soon."

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i chuckled quietly at your 23rd yawn, you rubbed your eyes sleepily. i turned the tv off before i led you to the guest bedroom, with your presence trailing behind me. upon entering, you settled down in the bed, arranging the pillows and sheets to your liking.

"well, i hope you have a good night's rest, y/n," i began to take my leave, heading for the door, however, i was stopped when you grabbed onto my wrist. i looked over my shoulder to meet your pleading eyes, those eyes that i could never resist. "keiji, i don't think i'd be able to sleep by myself tonight.."

"i-i mean..you don't have to stay the whole night if you don't want to, i just, really need someone's presence right now, at least until i fall asleep." you struggled maintaining eye contact with me, your cheeks vividly tinted with pink despite the dimly lit room. i was reluctant at first, not because i don't want to, but because it was quite unexpected.

"hm? ..sure, since you asked. i won't turn you down, ever." with that being said, i slowly but hesitantly got in the sheets, while you shifted, trying to get in a comfortable position. it was all foreign to me, feeling someone's warmth beside me in this cold bed, but i eventually got used to it. we laid there in silence, enjoying each other's company as we tried to doze off.

"i'm so stupid." i looked at you, a rueful smile displaying your beautiful features as you glanced up at the ceiling of my apartment room. i hummed in response, a sign for you to elaborate. in my eyes, you're definitely nowhere near stupid.

"so stupid for ever choosing someone i love rather than someone who loved me. an imbecile not to realize he's right beside me through everything. the highest form of stupidity, was when i kept denying my feelings for you all this time."

is this a dream? i must be dreaming, right? if it was, i never ever want to wake up.

"the look on your face definitely tells me you think this is a dream, am i right or am i right?"

you turned on your side to face me, the once bittersweet smile replaced by your signature cheeky grin. i felt my breath hitch, our faces just inches away from each other.

with your features up close, it was much more breathtaking than it already was from before. i want to say something, but why can't i?

"k-keiji, i know this is sudden, and maybe you've moved on and all, i can't blame you if you did. if it isn't too late, maybe we could fall in love for th-"

i crashed my lips with yours, cutting you off mid sentence whilst gently cupping your face in my hands. i feel your hands making its way to my hair, gently brushing through and tugging at it.

what am i doing? what has gotten into me? but whatever this is, i hope you and i never regret this night, or any nights we spent together. i know better than to ever call you mine, but maybe this time, this moment at least, i have the chance to. is it too selfish of me to think that?

we eventually pulled away, catching our breaths, in the process, my eyes never left yours. to tell you the truth, i'm the fool, the stupid one. stupid for running away from my feelings, stupid for not taking the risk and tell you how much i've loved you ever since. but it's better late than never,

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". . how about we fall in love for the rest of our lives?"

GENERAL TAGLIST:

@pyblos @some-oxymoron @kxgeyamasmilk @kunimwuah @hakueishirei @rollingthundaa

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tiredb0igivemesugars · 3 years

Text

The Best Christmas

Summary: the reader doesn’t like Christmas but their boyfriend Peter wants them to have the best Christmas ever.

Pairing: gender neutral!reader x Peter Parker

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: some swearing, drunkness and sexual themes mentioned.

Notes: So it has literally been forever since I posted anything but here’s a little something for Christmas. Sorry for any errors!

The last school day before Christmas break starts was officially over. Walking home now in the cold New York weather, you could see how your school got smaller and smaller. You dragged your feet along the pavement. The weather had been unsteady for the week, going as low as 20 on the coldest days, there were a few warmer days after those, causing the snow to melt and create very slippery ice all over the place. It was snowing again, a thin layer of snow already covering the ice. The small rocks that were spread across the streets to make them less slippery were your source of entertainment for the way home. You kicked the small rocks forward with your dragging feet, creating long marks on the snow, you smiled to yourself. It was nice to have a break from school since who the hell likes school, but you weren’t that thrilled about Christmas. You had been called the grinch by your friends as a joke since you pretty much hated Christmas, you just didn’t get it. The whole idea of it. Your boyfriend Peter on the other hand was the most Christmas person you had ever met, he was asking you what you want for Christmas in September for christ’ sake. Peter had been shocked when he found out that you didn’t celebrate Christmas and he made it his life mission to make you have the best Christmas in your life. Speaking of Christmas presents, you had no idea what to get Peter, you tried to ask your friends and even some of the Avengers what you could get him, but all of the ideas seemed rather silly and unnecessary. You would personally love something useful for Christmas and honestly, a useful present seemed the best and safest, which begged the question: ”What does Peter need?”

”Y/n!” You heard the familiar voice of Peter Parker yell. You turned around to see him sprinting across the ice, making no effort in not trying to fall, which he did do. He fell, flew across the air towards you before his stomach hit the ground, right by your feet. ”Hi,” was all Peter said when he saw you, now much closer. ”Don’t run on the ice,” you said as you helped Peter stand up and began walking with him. Your hand found its familiar place within Peter’s. ”Any Christmas plans?” Peter asked. You sighed before answering. ”No. Just a regular day for me,” you said, knowing well that Peter was aware of your plans, he must be working on something. ”It’s not a regular day anymore, you’re spending Christmas with me!” Peter exclaimed as he jumped in front of you, almost falling, again. You reached forward a little to help Peter restore his balance and continued your way forward, ”I guess I’ll come since I have nothing better to do. Do I have to wear something nice?” You finally gave in. ”Nothing too nice, like what you’d wear to a job interview,” Peter explained, more calm this time. You nodded.

Peter’s home smelled nice, it always did. Aunt May burned a lot of Christmas scented candles in the apartment, which kind of ruined the original smell of the place, but you didn’t complain. She greeted the two of you by yelling from the kitchen when you entered Peter’s home. ”Hi Aunt May! Y/n is going to stay over for a couple of hours,” Peter yelled. ”Okay, keep the door cracked!” May yelled back. The idea was to study but knowing Peter, you doubted it. You could maybe be able to do one math equation and read one chapter of some subject before Peter came up with something else. Last week it was you throwing something at him while he had his eyes closed, the idea behind this was to test his spidey-sense. But this week, it was going to be something different, you could see it in him. When he sat a little closer to you than usual on the floor when he loomed over you for a little longer as he reached over you to grab a book. You were sure of it when he placed a hand on your thigh. ”Peter,” you finally said, not really knowing how you were going to continue. You had kissed before, made out, dry humped each other, but you had a feeling Peter was after more today. You weren’t opposed to the idea, but his aunt was home, his door wasn’t even closed. Peter closed the book that was laid out in front of you and threw it somewhere in the room. He sat before you, his hand now on your cheek, caressing it. ”What?” He answered, looking almost smug. ”What are you after?” You asked, staring at him with tired eyes. ”Do I need to be after something if I want to kiss my darling?” Peter asked, trying to act innocent. You smiled a little, finding it heartwarming when he called you darling. ”Okay fine, but just one kiss. Then we’ll continue with our homework,” you gave in. Peter smiled as he placed his lips on yours, now both hands framing your face.

You returned the kiss, letting Peter’s tongue enter your mouth, but not too much. You felt Peter’s other hand leave your face, grabbing your waist. He pulled you towards him, that’s when you broke off. ”No I’m not going to sit in your lap, I’ll crush you,” you whined, already knowing you’d gone too far, now things needed finishing. Peter blew a raspberry with his mouth as he pulled you into his lap ”I’ve been crushed by a building before. You’re a feather,” he said as he sweetly kissed your cheek. You tried to support your weight with your knees, but Peter noticed what you were doing and made you settle down. ”Peter I’m going to get take out, what do you guys want?” May yelled from the front door. Peter looked at you, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. ”Just something with chicken is fine,” you almost whispered. ”Lot’s of chicken, all they can spare!” Peter yelled, earning a small smack from you. The front door closed, May had left, leaving you two alone.

Peter’s lips returned to yours, now hungrier. His hands roamed you up and down your sides. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your fingers tugged on his hair. He eventually moved from your mouth to your neck, breathing heavily he nibbled on your neck, you were glad you brought a scarf along. It was like electricity, shooting throughout your body. You didn’t even realise what kind of noises you were letting out until Peter called your name. ”What?” You asked, out of breath. ”The bed,” he said, more of a question even if it wasn’t structured in that way. Before you had the chance to even think about what to answer, the front door opened. You immediately sprinted out of Peter’s lap to sit on the bed, as far away from Peter as possible to catch your breath. ”Peter! Y/n! I’m back. They, unfortunately, said that they can’t give me all their chicken but I got enough for a family of five so come dig in!” Aunt May yelled as she swung through the apartment to place to food on the table. ”Yeah we’ll be out in a minute,” Peter yelled. You both needed a minute, you needed a scarf.

Once your heart rate had gone down enough, you stood up and grabbed the scarf from your bag. ”You ready?” You asked Peter who was still sat on the floor. Peter smiled as he jumped up and grabbed your hand and led you into the kitchen. Peter and May had a full-blown conversation, which might’ve been an argument, it was hard to tell but they laughed at one point so maybe not. May asked you about your Christmas plans, you explained that it was nothing special, not sure if it was okay to tell May that you had been invited to spend Christmas with Peter.

Peter walked you back home around eight. Happy was coming to get you at 5 PM the next day, that’s what Peter told you. You kissed him goodbye outside before going in. It was time to worry about what to get Peter. You stayed up late, thinking. At 2 in the morning, you got the idea, sure it was sappy but it was something. You immediately emailed a shop asking if your order would be ready to be picked up at 4 PM the next day, you knew that there was probably no hope for you to get it but at least you tried. You went to sleep around 5, beyond exhausted. You set an alarm for 3 PM so you had time to shower and get ready. When you woke up that afternoon you were shocked to find that they had answered to your email, you were happy that your boyfriend had a generic name. You agreed to pick up the bracelet with Peter's name carved to it at 4 PM.

To say that you were nervous would be an understatement, your hands were so sweaty and they were shaking. Most of the anxiousness luckily washed away when you saw Peter in the backseat of Happy's car, he came to knock on your door. "May has to work today so it's just the two of us with Mr Stark and the others," Peter smiled when you opened the door. "Oh, okay," was all you said, not sure how you were feeling. The car ride went along smoothly if you didn't count the extra 30 minutes that you were stuck in traffic. Peter had suited himself to black pants and a sleeveless sweater over a white button-up, hair slicked back. You had found a pair of plaid pants in your wardrobe and paired them with a sweatshirt, not forgetting to put a turtle neck under the shirt. "You look adorable," Peter said when he got a better look at your outfit outside the Stark residence. You blushed, also complimenting his outfit.

Thor was by the door waiting for two of you. "Spider and y/n, you're here! Took you long enough!" He said as soon as you two got closer to him. "We got stuck in traffic," Peter said as he led up inside, following Thor. He engaged himself in the conversation with Thor, leaving you to take in the sight of a house fully covered in decorations. Pepper must really love Christmas, you thought to yourself. Every avenger and non-avenger were there, you believe you even saw a glimpse of Nick Fury. Steve was drunk in the living room having a heated conversation with Falcon. Hawkeye, Bucky and Natasha were somewhere else, probably up to no good. Tony and Pepper were in the kitchen trying to get the final details for the dinner. "Y/n! Peter! You arrived!" Steve yelled from the living room. "Wanna go place the presents under the tree?" Peter asked as he turned towards you, you nodded. You had only gotten a present for Peter, and seeing the pile of presents by the tree you began to regret your decision. Maybe you should've gotten everyone a gift.

"Dinner!" Pepper yelled before you could voice your concerns to Peter. You sat next to Peter, opposite of an empty place. The long table was filled except for that one seat. Tony and Pepper on the ends of the long table, Peter on Tony's left side, Nick Fury opposite to him. Pepper had Morgan by her side along with Bruce. You eyed the table, everyone was there, except for... "Where's Loki?" you asked, wanting to see your friend. You liked how cynical he was, he understood your jokes too, even if he didn't really like you, at least that's how you felt. "He'll show, he always does," Tony said.

He wasn't wrong, Loki did show, in the empty seat opposite of you. Everyone indulged themselves with the delicious cooking that was made by Pepper. "Tony hates cooking, loathes the kitchen, but Christmases, you have to drag the man out!" Pepper exclaimed, causing a wave of laughter to go through the table. "I don't understand this," Loki said, mostly to himself. "Neither do I, never did," you said to him. He turned to look at you, surprised you heard him. "I understand this feast but this "holiday" goes beyond me," Loki continued. "Tell me about it!" You said, happy to have found someone who shared your frustration.

Both of you got lost in the conversation, almost losing the track of time. You had moved on from the dinner to dessert, now you were all just sitting and chatting, soon to be retrieved into the living room. "I mean gifts! It's so hard to buy people gifts!" You complained. Loki said something about gifts too, but you didn't hear what since there was suddenly yelling happening. Drunk Steve was picking a fight with Natasha. "Why is he drunk?" You asked Peter. "He doesn't like Christmas," Tony answered before Peter had the chance to. "And from what I gather, you don't either," Tony said. "It's just not my holiday. We've never celebrated it in my family," you explained as plainly as you could. "You never told me that you have never even had a Christmas!" Peter suddenly yelled.

Suddenly everyone was turned to you. "You've never had a Christmas?" Pepper asked, shocked. "What? It's just Christmas," you said, feeling how your face was changing colour from the attention. "But we have to open presents now then," Pepper continued. Everyone rose from the table. Bucky with a little hop in his steps, he liked Christmas, he was even wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. Morgan absolutely demanded to be the one to give out the presents. You wanted to ask if Morgan needed help with reading the names but decided against it. She was Tony Stark's kid, for all you knew she could already be taking college classes. When she first read your name and came to give you the present you just thought it was the one Peter got you, but by the time she was bringing out the fifth present you were already overwhelmed. "Why do I have so many presents?" You asked Peter who sat next to you on the shared armchair. "What do you mean many? You only got five so far," Peter whispered. "So far? How many am I getting?" You asked, panic evident in your voice. "I'm guessing everyone got you a gift so do the math," Peter said, not really understanding why you were freaking out. "I only got you a gift this is so embarrassing!" you mumbled into your hands.

Peter put his arm over your shoulders to offer you some comfort. "It's okay. I didn't give a present to everyone either. We can say that the presents I gave are from both of us," Peter said. Peter was too kind. Way too kind.

You ended up with almost 20 gifts, which was impossible to comprehend for your brain. You had so far gotten two sweaters, a book, chocolate, a pair of new sneakers and Tony had gifted you a phone. Suddenly you felt Peter hugging you. "What is it?" You asked, confused. "Your gift," Peter said, showing the bracelet. "Oh this silly thing, I just didn't know what else to give. Do you like it?" You asked. Peter stared at the bracelet. "I love it, thank you so much," he said and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "Look, if you turn it around it has "I love you" carved in morse code," you pointed out. You helped Peter put it on before you returned to opening your gifts. You could hear Morgan yell as she ran through the living room, happy that she got the gift she had wanted. Peter's gift ended up in your hands, you knew it was Peter's since he couldn't wrap things for shit.

When the wrapping paper revealed a notebook you knew that tears would flow. Your hands shook as you turned each page, examining each page with care. A picture of the two of you, date and a small note. Maybe what you had done together that day, maybe just something sweet. You saw as your tears wet the pages of the notebook. What did you ever do to deserve a boyfriend like Peter? You closed the book, not wanting to bawl your eyes out in front of everyone. Peter's hand wrapped around yours. "Did you like it?" he asked. "You're an asshole. But yes, I liked it," you said and kissed Peter's cheek.

Tony went to put Morgan to sleep later, after that it was just calm "adult talk". Steve was sleeping on the couch, taking the whole space but their friends could care less and sat on top of the sleeping Steve. You and Peter reigned over the armchair, you found a nice place under Peter's shoulder, your arms wrapped around his middle. "Thank you for giving me my best Christmas," you said to Peter, trying to say it without anyone hearing. "Your only Christmas," Peter corrected. You smiled. "But still, it's the only, the best and I love you," you said, trying to keep the moment serious. "I love you too," Peter said and kissed you. It was a sweet, loving kiss, tasted like brandy.

Maybe Christmases weren't so bad after all.

#marvel #oneshot #peter parker #peter parker x reader #x gender neutral reader #christmas #peter parker fluff #imagine #The Avengers #happy

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