#so im starting to build up a cold now with a sore throat and a continuous headache

[sofia-cloud]

Miguel taking care of reader while they’re sick! He’d be so worried about losing them</3

hes such a sweetie

- ,, PAIRING: soft!Miguel x reader

⋆·˚ ༘ * CONTENTS: comfort, fluff, soft Miguel, sickness, cuddling.

*ೃ༄ NOTES: im sorry if this a bit short, anyways in this story Miguel is lovelyy and tell me if yall want more of Miguel

it was a normal day of winter, when suddenly the temperature of your body got higher. You didnt know why that happened but at first you didnt mind, a few hours later you felt so tired and decide to rest a little. It didnt help much cause you got a sore throat and even a cold, you felt so vulnerable at that time as u couldnt even stand up. Your throat was aching so bad, your bed was covered with a lot of handkerchiefs, you just couldnt take it.

“babe, can you- *sneezed* can you come over.. im feeling a little..” you couldnt even finish that phrase that ur phone fall down by your hand and you faint.

“Love?? Youre okay??” Miguel asked as the call was still up, when he didnt received an answer but just heard the phone fell down, he quickly stopped on what he was doing and he turned into spider man to do it as fast as possible, he came out of the building and started throwing cobwebs for the skyscrapers, in all it took only 2 minutes to get home.

His heart was pounding, not knowing what had happened to you, he thought of the worst. He immediately opened the door and ran to your room, until he saw you that you had fainted.

“Please wake up” he said as he gently put a wet cloth on your forehead and raised your legs so that the blood would spin. His look was a lot worried, you were very important to him, he didn't want to lose someone like you, he spent good times together with you, he felt comfortable by your side, you were the only person who could understand him, the only one who was there in the moment of need, now he wouldn't let you down.

Your eyes opened slowly, murmuring incomprehensible words, when Miguel had noticed it he hugged you softly, feeling how vulnerable you were at the time. He just wanted you to be okay, he didn't want anything else at that moment.

“Im here for you treasure, just tell me what you need, do you want some water?” He asked you holding your hand, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You nodded because you didn't even have the strength to talk, he immediately went to the kitchen to bring you a glass, he even brought you a medicinal in such a way as to get rid of your sore throat and a little fever.

“Miguel, what would i do without you” you said as he mixed the medicines into the water, putting a hand in his face, he had put his hand on top of yours.

“I can't lose you, love, youre too important to me” his voice sounded so sweet and sincere, you loved when Miguel opened up to you emotionally, without him you probably would never have been able to get up, he was always there for you, he was always available and ready to help you.

A few hours later you felt better thanks to the medicines, Miguel had stayed all that time in your room and bringing you food or drink, he had sat in the bed next to you while you were watching tv, you had laughed and joked.

“Do you feel better darling?” He asked you by looking directly into your eyes.

“Yeah, i think tomorrow all this will be gone, just because of you” you smiled softly at him.

You kept watching TV together until you fell asleep in his chest, he stroked your hair and gently kissed your forehead.

“I'll love you forever” he whispered as he watched you sleep and arranged the blanket better on you.

You weren't completely asleep yet, at that comment you smiled slightly and squeezed him slightly more.

[asmotheavatarofhorny]

———————————————

Lucifer’s Little Lamb 💙

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⚠️Warnings:

— self deprecation

— panic attacks

— implied romantic but can be read as platonic

— GN!MC you/yours

— fluffy comfort with no plot

———————————————

A/N: im writing this at 3am when im sad so if this is bad pls excuse me;; anw i have to get up in the morning so enjoy, and goodbye

———————————————

You had been in the Devildom for a few months now, and everything was going well. That is… you’d like to think it was.

You really wished everything was fine, but it was a new environment with new people- er.. demons. And you were scared out of your mind. It didn’t help that people tried to kill you left and right down here either… that and the fact that you had anxiety. BUT it was fine. Usually. You opted to just hide away in your room most of the time. To avoid lashing out at anyone, that is. Or.. having an episode.

But you had to go to school, unfortunately. And today was not a good day.

You weren’t sure what exactly set you off, but it wasn’t a good day regardless. You felt incredibly out of place and jumpy all day long, almost like you were in another person’s body… if that makes any sense.

By the time school ended you wanted to collapse and start crying, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew you had to get somewhere secluded fast, but you were so overwhelmed that you just ran out of the building. Your instincts led you most of the way as your overwhelmed brain distorted your sense of direction.

Your legs ached with every harsh step you took as you ran, your head a blur like some little kid just shook you up like you were a snow globe.

You came across a lake out behind what you would later recognize as the Demon Lord’s Castle. You collapsed suddenly, your legs throbbing and the adrenaline that currently held your brain at gunpoint not going to stop anytime soon.

You curled in on yourself, breathing in the cold Devildom air as you waited for the attack to fade. You felt warm tears pool on your cheeks and stain your eyes a shameful shade of red, displaying to the rest of the world how much of a disgrace you were. How stupid and sensitive you could be.

You were only human, how could you survive in hell? You weren’t strong. You’re just a stupid little human with no sense of self preservation. The tears fell faster at that thought, the sensation of water rolling down your flushed cheeks was almost too much to bear as you grit your teeth and breathed as hard as you could to get a grip on your emotions, inadvertently causing you to start hyperventilating and thus making everything worse.

You watched the water in the lake ripple as you dug your nails painfully into your palms, the soft skin becoming marred and bruised. The lake seemed to cry with you, and maybe it did as the water glowed with a soft pink from the large moon in the sky.

You could felt the wind hard on your back, as you succumbed to your tiredness and laid on your side, your knees to your chest. The cold dirt below you was a harsh reminder that this was real. It was grounding, and yet oh so impossible to bear.

You felt yourself shaking violently and had to bite your inner lip to stop from whining. Your eyes burned from the never ending flood of tears, and your throat was seemingly on fire. You could hardly breathe out of your nose anymore so you resorted to letting hiccup-ey gasps out through your sore throat.

The lake distorted some more. It rippled and shook along with you, it’s black and almost pink hue a reflection of your sorrow. And also a reflection of… wait. Is that a person-!?

The reflection of a tall man loomed over you, and you knew exactly who it belonged to. The eldest brother, Lucifer.

You held yourself tighter, hoping he would go away if you just ignored him. To have the Avatar of Pride see you like this… you felt pathetic. Why did you have to be like this?

You heard him cautiously step around you before he sat effortlessly next to your crumpled body, looking out towards the lake. He didn’t say anything for a while. It almost seemed like you were sitting there for an eternity before he started to talk,

“Belphie used to come out here when he was younger,” he started, his voice calm and slow as he spoke. “When we first fell, I think it was the hardest on him,” he paused, considering, “I would come out here in the pouring rain looking for him, only to see he had fallen asleep right where you’re sitting now,” Lucifer said with a breathy chuckle, the sadness evident in his voice from the memory. He didn’t look at you, and you didn’t look at him. You just looked at the lake, sharing this moment of solitude.

After a few moments of quiet, you looked up at the demon, his black-silver locks curling perfectly around his beautiful face. They really didn’t call him the Avatar of Pride for nothing. “Why are you telling me this…?” You asked, you could hear your voice cracking pathetically throughout. You didn’t have the strength to even talk properly.

“I thought it might help,” he stated, “My younger brothers always liked me to tell them stories in times like these.”

You looked up at him in awe, then. You could feel your eyes glazing over with a fresh set of tears at that; he wanted to help me…?

“Can you… t-tell me another one?” You squeaked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

You could see him smile slightly as he closed his eyes, his perfect lashes complimenting his pale complexion perfectly. His soft voice echoed through the expanse of space for what seemed like hours, telling tales of himself and his brothers.

He had never shown anyone this side of himself before, at least no one outside of his immediate family. So he wasn’t sure what exactly came over him that night, but he remembered that it ended in him picking up your exhausted body and holding you close, as soft snores fell from your mouth. He took you back to the HoL, being sure to give many a death glare to anyone who so much as glanced in your direction.

When he arrived at your room, he laid you down gingerly on your bed and covered you up in a soft blanket. He almost felt his heart melt when you snuggled into it and smiled slightly. He was happy he was able to make you even a bit more comfortable in the Devildom. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling back.

He had never expected to become to attached to a human, much less one such as yourself.

Rest assured, MC. You will never have to go through any hardship alone again. Not now that you’ve weaseled your way into his heart, and obtained the title that came with it. Now, you were;;

Lucifer’s Little Lamb.

[the-kipsabian]

you know what made a big difference in my day today

putting some pictures i took at the nsp show as my phone lock screen and backgrounds 

[lovethoery]

119 nct dream + jaemin ((make it nasty *wink wonk*))

U KNOW... i sat here and was like hm. how am i gonna make this work? bc i didnt know what exactly the lyrics to 119 were... i literally will not hear this song the same ever again... thank u. also, im trying my best to make my content gender neutral, including my 18+ content so if anyone has any tips on how to make it better, please do let me know!! also also i realized after beginning this, that i fully projected my own relationship w someone onto this...

you're more fun than i expected / you keep provoking me / the problem is i'm not a flame that's easy to tame / hold my hand tight and don't let go

gn!reader but afab lanugage!! overstimulation, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, mentions of previously bratty!reader, dom!jaemin, false sympathy, dacryphilia, jaemin's a little bit of a bully but it's all in good fun <3

when you and jaemin had first started fooling around, he'd never, ever thought the two of you would be where you are now.

jaemin looms over your form, a sadistic smile playing on his lips as his fingers pump in and out of you. he watches your thighs twitch, struggling to remain open. your hands wrap tightly around his wrist, urging him to stop and give you a second to breathe.

"oh?" he questions, opting to instead grind his fingers against your sweet spot. you swear you can see stars dotting your vision, tears blurring the image of jaemin's pretty face. "i thought you told me you could handle whatever i gave you?"

your head shakes back and forth, chest heaving as you release a sob. "n-nana," you whimper, giving him your best pleading eyes. jaemin just laughs at you, leaning down to press a wet kiss to your neck, sucking lightly. it's just hard enough to leave a light mark but nowhere near hard enough to stain your skin for days to come. you know that when you come down later, you'll be more than disappointed. "please..."

he just coos at you, pulling back to cup your cheek with his free hand, thumbing at your cheekbone. a soft sound slips from your throat at the tenderness and you don't miss the way jaemin's eyes shine down at you. it's a glimpse of your regular jaemin; soft, warm, and downright gentle. he leans down, nudging his nose against yours and you sigh, eyes slipping closed when his fingers halt. the feeling of being filled with something is undeniable, but the stimulation has ceased for now.

"color?" he whispers, giving you what seems to be all the time in the world.

you breathe in deeply, "green" coming out on the exhale. jaemin just smiles warmly, pressing a kiss to your lips in what you recognize as praise before sitting back up. that cold look returns and your body trembles beneath his.

"if i remember correctly, you were the one who begged me to keep going, so why is this any different?" jaemin asks, cocking his head to one side, eyebrow raised. the look sends a jolt through you, toes curling. your legs ache from how wide they're spread and your core is already sore. but, still, you remain silent. jaemin hates backtalk, and you know it doesn't do anything to help your case.

what jaemin wants, jaemin gets.

your pulse spikes in anticipation and the tightening in your lower abdomen only gets worse when you feel his middle finger curl up against your walls. you squeak, eyes clenching shut.

"mm," he hums, loving the look on your face. it's somewhere between desperation and exhaustion. "remember the first time we played together? you were such a fucking brat," jaemin spits, roughly pushing his fingers back inside of you, voice nearly a growl. he relishes in the way you cry out, one hand reaching up to grasp onto his bicep. your lower lip lodges between your teeth as your eyes glaze over.

his fingers don't stop this time, ragged pants leaving your lips when he presses a third inside. your back arches, brows furrowing as the pleasure spreads like warmth throughout your lower body. it builds, and builds, and builds, and you look at jaemin with wide, shocked eyes. "i'm gonna cum," you warn him, nails biting into the skin of his arm. "jaemin, i'm g-gonna fucking - fuck!"

jaemin grins, watching you fall over the edge once again. "there you go." he finger fucks you through it, biting down on his own bottom lip as you let out a series of high-pitched cries, tears starting to stain your cheeks. "n'aw, are you crying, baby? does it feel that good?"

your head feels like it's somewhere in the clouds, full of euphoric fog. the way jaemin's voice is so sweet but so condescending makes your tears only fall harder.

"you look so pretty when you cry like this, angel. tell me, is it good? have you learned your lesson?"

your chest heaves with sobs, shoulders shaking. jaemin watches carefully for any signs of distress, fingers pulling out of you entirely. you whimper at the emptiness. his free hand rests on your bare stomach, grounding you for a moment while the other one moves to his mouth, sucking his digits clean. "are you with me, baby?" he asks after a few tense moments. the pillowcases are soaked through with your tears and your breaths are coming out shuddery. jaemin thinks you look stunning.

after coming down from whatever cloud you were on, you register jaemin's words, nodding slowly. the smile on jaemin's face is downright blinding as the hand on your chest moves to wipe away all the tear tracks and drool beginning to dry on your face. "i've trained you so well, huh?" he speaks softly, running his knuckles against your cheek. he softens up when you lean into the touch, grabbing his wrist. you kiss his fingertips, sighing. "you're so cute. so clingy and desperate to have me near. now, say 'thank you'."

you look up at jaemin with wide, blown out pupils, swallowing harshly. your throat is dry and your voice is hoarse but you manage a meek, "thank you, nana", before kissing the tips of his middle and ring fingers. he positively beams, leaning down to kiss you gently.

"remember when you'd fight me just for a simple 'thank you'?" jaemin teases and you feel yourself flush with heat. you... did tend to be a bit of a brat, but jaemin, for all of his (rare) faults, he was nothing if not a patient man. he well and truly broke you, you like to think. sometimes that bratty behavior will rear its stubborn little head and jaemin has to be forced to fuck it out of you. but, for the most part, he has trained you well. "do you want to keep going or are do you wanna safe word out, baby?"

you blink for a moment, considering your options. "what else... do you have in mind?" you ask sheepishly. jaemin smirks, a knowing laugh leaving him. you were ever the trooper.

with a soft hum, jaemin pushes himself up, slinking down your body to settle between your legs. he pushes your legs up into a bent position, holding your thighs apart. "s'this okay?" he wonders, already knowing the answer by the way you sit up onto your elbows, watching him closely. when he gets a stunned nod from you, jaemin leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your pubic bone. your eyelashes flutter, jumping at the feeling.

the space between your legs is extremely sensitive after hours of the most pleasurable torture. the prodding of jaemin's tongue against your clit makes you gasp, knees coming to tighten up around skull. he only makes a disapproving noise, pushing your thighs open even more. you go easily, weak to everything about the man between your legs. "you're so good, letting me do whatever i want with you."

he licks a fat stripe up your core. jaemin moans against you, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. the sight is enough to make you throb, slick gushing out onto his tongue as you fall onto your back again. "fuuuuuck," you groan, toes curling again.

"you taste so fucking good," he breathes, kissing up the inside of your thigh. "hands."

it's not a question, but a demand.

shyly, you reach your hands down between your thighs, where jaemin tenderly tangles your fingers together. he uses the leverage from your arms to keep your legs spread, and the thought makes your brain fizzle out for a moment. you're alert the moment jaemin starts lapping at you, though. the sensation is enough to make your spine tingle and your thighs shake. it brings tears back to your eyes.

"are you gonna cry again?" jaemin asks in sweetly patronizing tone. you shake your head, moaning when he suckles at your clit for a moment. "you're gonna cry again. i know you are, my little crybaby. go ahead and cry. you know i love it when you do."

you sniffle, head so fuzzy. your ears feel like they're filled with cotton.

"what do you say for all of these compliments?"

"thank you, nana..."

the drabble game is currently closed until i can get through all the reqs i have rn!!! once i start whittling some away, then i will reopen reqs!

[wincore]

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan. 

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly. 

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that. 

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you. 

You shake it off. 

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer. 

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks. 

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

-

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates. 

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue. 

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile. 

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes. 

“Sungchan?!” 

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!” 

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face. 

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity. 

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.” 

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns. 

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on. 

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention. 

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys. 

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling. 

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love. 

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile. 

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation. 

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.  

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on. 

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones. 

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts. 

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you. 

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm. 

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes. 

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls. 

"Do you have any bandaids?" 

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.” 

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you. 

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind. 

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers. 

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans. 

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him. 

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade. 

-

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan. 

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead. 

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly. 

“Hm?” 

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that. 

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field. 

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding. 

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave. 

“You should,” he responds, honest. 

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile. 

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties. 

Only one more match, you remind yourself. 

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this. 

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all. 

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile. 

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty. 

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

-

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you. 

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading. 

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care. 

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk. 

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild. 

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

[rat-that-writes]

Hi friend!! Do u think u could write something dark x reader (although tbh u can write whichever ego u feel most inspired with--im not picky lol) where reader has had a long day at work and just needs some gentle attention and rest and affection👉👈🥺

a/n: hi <3 this is so cute thank u for the request, really feeling it rn. you can tell how badly i want pizza for dinner. enjoy !

tw: very mild embarrassment, thunder, swearing, food & eating (pizza specifically), use of the word lift instead of elevator lol im scottish dont @ me americans

Slapping down hard on the pavement, your feet carried you hurriedly down the street. It had started raining just ten minutes before you left work. You thought maybe it would have stopped by now, the forecast said it would be clear skies at this time, but no. Definitely not. Heavier than before, the rain soaked through your jacket, trousers, and your shoes. Every step you took you could hear the squelching of your socks against the sole of your boots.

You would have called a cab but of course the weather had also soaked through your pockets, rendering your phone useless until it was dry again. You just had to carry on through the misery until you reached your apartment.

Just when you were approaching your half-way-home mark, a loud crack of thunder rang in your ears, startling you enough for you loose your footing on an uneven tile and almost trip over. The streets weren't crowded by any means, but a few bystanders definitely saw that. You felt your face heating up as you caught your breath. Sighing loudly, you carried on walking at a slightly slower pace, not wanting to trip up again.

After another fifteen minutes of freezing misery being poured down on you from the dark cloudy sky, you had finally reached your apartment building. Stomping up to the lift, you stepped in, pleased to find it empty. 

Feeling the large metal box moving upwards, it was if you felt your woes lifting with it. Soon, you would be in your cosy apartment, taking a long, hot shower and cuddling up in one of Dark’s hoodies that he never wears. Maybe you’d even call him to come cuddle you. Well, you’d have to dry your phone first. 

As soon as you heard the telltale ding of the doors opening, you softly pushed past the three other people waiting for the lift, muttering an ‘excuse me,’ as one of them gave you a slight glare. 

You could almost already feel the promise of the hot water gracing your skin, ridding you of the cold rain water and sweat. Turning the key in the lock, you struggled a little. This always happened on bad days. Jiggling the piece of metal slightly, you finally pushed the door open. 

Peeling off your jacket, you hung it on the coat rack to dry, taking your phone out of the pocket. You didn’t even wait to turn the light on before you started on your jeans and t-shirt, but maybe you should have because the sight of glowing eyes just mere feet in front of you tore a hoarse scream from your throat. Your hand unconsciously threw itself at the light switch, flipping it on to reveal the the rest of the entity sitting on the back of your couch, knees bent and palms flat against each other. He looked confused, to say the least.

“Oh fucking hell, Dark! What are you doing here?” Your tone softened towards the end, voice sore from the scream. 

“I did text you, Darling.” 

“My phone got wet..”

“Ah.”

Finally having caught your breath, you chuckled softly. The demon smiled. He could tell you had had quite the long day. 

Sighing softly, you continued to undress, uncomfortable with the soggy clothing clinging to your body. You could tell he was trying not to watch too obviously, which was amusing. 

“I’m gonna take a shower, you can stay here if you want? I’ll probably take a while.” 

He nods, getting up and reaching for you. You hesitantly accepted the hug, not wanting to dampen his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. Kisses were planted atop your head as his arms squeezed you softly, enveloping your figure. For a demonic creature he gave the best hugs.

“Take as long as you need. I’ll order you some food.”

                                                           -

Feeling cosy and refreshed, you stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom to search for that hoodie you wanted. Dark bought it specifically for you to wear. He wore it only once, describing it as “agonising to be cloaked in such common threads,” but you knew he was exaggerating. The smallest inconveniences were always put so eloquently disdainful, which was hilarious. 

Eventually, you found it buried at the back of your wardrobe, and slipped it on with a pair of cotton shorts. Falling just above your knees, the hoodie was soft and comfortable against your skin. You always wore this after a bad day.

The sound of voices interrupted your thoughts. Padding into the kitchen, you heard the sound of a very intimidated delivery guy, and a deep, restrained “thank you.”

As your boyfriend returned to the kitchen with a pizza box, your mouth watered and you realised just how hungry you were. Reaching to open the box, you felt his arms come around you and his head atop yours. Smiling, you inquired about the scared-sounding boy.

“Why did that pizza guy sound so distressed?”

“They all do.”

Shaking your head at his answer, you turned around in his hold. Charcoal eyes looking down at you, he smiled again and kissed your temple. Looking up again, he reached for the pizza box and took your hand to lead you to the couch, the Netflix already loaded up.

Settling down between his legs, you put the box on your lap over a fuzzy blanket. Just then, you realised he was still fully clothed in  a black dress shirt and black slacks. His expression turned confused as you stood up from his lap.

“You’re still dressed,” you spoke, eyeing him up and down. 

“If you wanted me to undress, Darling, you should have said so earlier.”

Making a show of unbutton his shirt, he smirked at you. Rolling your eyes, you set down the pizza and the blanket and ran into your bedroom, leaving Dark looking confused again. 

Soon you emerged, a pair of grey sweatpants in hand. He’d worn these a couple times before, at your request. Eyeing them up, he sighed softly. 

“I just want you to be comfortable,” you said, tone slightly teasing.

“Very well, for you.”

Getting up, he took them from your grasp and kissed your cheek. Face heating up slightly, you went back to your pizza to grab a slice. That first bite you took was like heaven. Cooled down enough to not burn your tongue, but still hot to please your taste buds. Immaculate sauce, slightly sweet. The cheese. The cheese was even better. You swear you almost left earth and all planes of existence after that bite, until you felt strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you down. 

As your back made contact with his solid chest, you let out a squeak. He smirked again, placing kisses all over your bare shoulder where the hoodie has fallen slightly. Trailing up your neck, you giggled and shrugged slightly as his beard tickled your throat. Dark hummed, squeezing you again. Eventually, he stopped and let you carry on eating whilst you looked for something to watch. 

“Are you gonna have a slice or not? Because I will eat this whole pizza.”

A torn look came upon his face. You rolled your eyes, knowing that his dramatic side was to show itself any moment now. Slowly, he reached for a slice, picking it up with the very tips of his fingers. He brought it up to the two of you, flapping the pizza slightly as it assessing it. A judging hum came from the man, brows furrowed and lips pressed together. All while you look on in amusement.

Taking another bite from your slice, you looked at him. He looked at you, then the slice, then straight ahead as he took a hesitant bite. Forever a man with an unreadable expression, you couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. At least he wasn’t spitting it out.  

When he stopped chewing, you kept looking at his face for an answer. Nothing was too clear, but he didn’t look like he hated it.

“It was... fine, actually.” His tone was unusually soft, it almost concerned you. 

Slowly turning back around, you grabbed another slice for yourself and one for Dark. He accepted it, but didn’t eat it straight away. He just held in front of him, eyes focused on the movie. A silent chuckle fell from your lips.

Content, you snuggled closer to the demon. His arms squeezed you from time to time, a gentle reminder that he’s still there. As your breathing grew slow and even, you felt the hands of slumber creeping closer into your brain, a silent lullaby drifting you off to dreamland. Eyes closed, you turned your body slightly. Dark’s arms squeezed once again as a kiss was planted on your forehead. A final sigh escaped your lips; you would finish the pizza tomorrow. Now it was time to drift away, in his arms, secure and content. Finally.

[daisybeewrites]

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

[queerautism]

pretty sure i sent an ask a while back about my deviated septum and enlarged turbinates. i was supposed to have surgery for it monday.... then i got an ear infection and a nasty cold just in time for it! and i had to reschedule! because congestion and a sore throat is just about the worst thing you could combine with nasal surgery! so now i have to wait until may 20th for it. im still pissed off about it. not at the surgeon for suggesting i reschedule, just at the fact that i got sick at the worst possible time (and i rarely ever get sick! and you pick THAT time to do it??? piss off)

i already have had problems with getting to sleep my whole life, but some years ago is when i started to wake up in the middle of the night and sometimes not be able to fall asleep. and from what i can recall, this seems to have started around the time i trained myself out of mouth breathing at night bc it was giving me a lot of sinus pain when id wake up. so even when my nose isnt so clogged that i literally cant breathe at all, its still not enough to breathe properly. my doctors believe the waking up is caused by a build up of carbon dioxide bc i cant breathe it all out, and since my lung function is normal its easy to pin on my nasal stuff.

poor sleep is the root of SO many health issues, nevermind the preexisting conditions i already have that affect my physical and mental health. this could easily be one of the leading causes for my severely worsened fatigue, memory, comprehension skills, depression, the list goes on. so its why im so bummed out about the surgery bc this could be my fucking break..... and i just had to get a cold.

thnx for listening 🥺

Oh noooo im so sorry, that is genuinely awful timing!!!! :(

[violetnotez]

HC: Telekenesis Quirk! Reader

Anonymous:  You're such a good writer lmao can't relate. But Deku and Todoroki with a s/o who has a telekenesis quirk that gets harder to control the less she concentrates? Like she'll zone out and suddenly there's books stuck the the ceiling XD idk it just sounded cute to me

Ahhh thank you ya made ma heart feel all squishy :) And this is SO AdOrAbLeEeeeeeeE (PS- I havent written for Todoroki for a while so forgive me if my writing for him is a little rusty!)

(P.S.S)- I broke up the parts front Fluff and Angst for each boy because I felt this request could do well for both genres

(RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

-----------------------------

DEKU

Fluff:

Izuku thinks your quirk is SO FREAKING COOOOOOOL

He obviously made a journal about your quirk, because you’re his girlfriend, OF COURSE he’s going to study your powers!!!

The journal first started out as just another addition to his superhero notes

He has little notes from when you two train about fighting styles would best suit you and techniques to help you control your quirk, since when you get distracted or daze off, your quirk will sometimes activate by itself

The journal was very sophisticated and platonic, really…. until it became a journal of just YOU

It's chock full of little things he loves about you, like how your laugh sounds like wind chimes that make his spine tingle in the most delicate way ever, or the way your hair smells so lovely like fruit it makes him go crazy every time he smells it

May or may not have went to the shampoo aisle of the grocery store smelling every bottle to see if its one you use

It's also full of little moments between you two that he never wants to forget

One of the most adorable things he has witnessed when your quirk took over (and, of course, wrote down-this boi has written EVERYTHING) was when you had laid your head in Izuku’s lap during a Dekusquad outing to the park

Everyone spent the whole day studying and occasionally running around like children, playing childish games, until everyone had sat down to eat and the tiredness began to set in

You were currently in a peaceful food coma, letting Midoriya play with your hair as the sun began to set, turning the sky into a beautiful mixture of oranges, pinks, and indigos

While the rest of his friends were busy playing a game of UNO, he took the time to admire how beautiful you were: your skin was tan and rosy from the sunset, your lashes thick, your lips a pretty shade of pink and slightly parted… he blushed, wondering how he had gotten so lucky to have you

Unknowing to Midoriya, you were beginning to daze off from his touch- whenever he played with your hair you were instantly calmed and, 9 times out of 10, would fall asleep

You sighed contently, allowing the softness of sleep to drape you, until….

“Y/n….y/nnn..wake up princess,” you heard your boyfriend’s sweet voice, muffled by the thickness of sleep you were still in. But something was wrong- he sounded almost ...desperate? Scared?

Your eyes shot open, a terrifying realization hitting you- you were levitating yourself.

You, of course, had done this before while sleeping, but there was always a roof over your head. Yeah, you would hit your head and it would hurt, but at least you weren’t flying into the open sky.

You gasped loudly in shock, feeling yourself drop rapidly to the ground

Izuku instantly reacted, using a tiny bit of One for All (like .00000001% of it) to make him rapidly sprint to catch you from your fall

You grasped Izuku’s shirt, feeling the soft skin and toned muscles that always made you feel safe, trying to make your heart stop pounding from the slight scare

Izuku looked down at you, blushing slightly from how quickly he reacted and how cute you looked cuddled up against him

“Are you alright?” he asked, worry laced in his tone

“Of course I am,” you replied, your voice still groggy from sleep, “you’re here.”

Angst:

*Warning: mentions of blood

You woke up, your hair matted to one side with dirt and- blood?- your head hurt, your ears ringing, the arm you landed on felt so sore you didnt even want to look down at the damage 

You looked around, your vision fuzzy at the sides, trying to process what was going on- you could hear cries, screams, the crackling of fire- “that’s right” you thought, “Im fighting villians”

You then heard a voice that made your blood run cold

“I wont let you hurt her anymore!” Deku screamed, making you look desperately to find him- there he was, badly tattered and limping, holding one side of his suit, where red and purple was staining his skin, the mint green sleeve of his suit ripped away

The powerful villian laughed a cruel chuckle, advancing on poor Deku’s broken stance 

“You think your little whines are going to stop me, kid? Your lucky your little girlfriend is pretty, or would have killed her by now. But a pretty little thing like that could be of use to me.”

He smiled a disgusting grin, his perverted thoughts making Deku instantly furious

“No, you won't touch her! I WONT LET YOU !” he screamed, his quirk creating a ball of green energy erupt around his body as he charged at the gigantic villain now running at him.

You stared desperately at the exchange, the whole time wondering how Izuku was even still standing while the villain looked untouched

Seeing your boyfriend charge him- you couldn't take it- you were terrified and angry and scared for his life, knowing he couldn't keep this up- he'd killed himself

“NOOOOOOOO!” you screamed with all your might, not realizing you were making the rubble around you float violently, giant pieces of fallen building flying into the sky, heading to the thing that was causing your pain- this villian who had the audacity to hurt your boyfriend

The villain tried to block the rubble from hitting him, with no luck- it overtook him, instantly burying him in a pile of rubble

Deku stared at the now silent villain, turning slowly to see you, battered and bloody, before you fell to the ground from over use of your quirk

-------------------------------------

TODOROKI

Fluff:

Todoroki first began to have feelings for you very early on- he found you to be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen with a heart made of gold.

 Whenever you two talked, he felt like you treated him like a person, not the “Son-of- Endeavor”, or “The-Boy-Who-Got-In-With-Reccomendations”- you truly talked to him to get to know him for who he was

It was refreshing and irritating at the same time- he was scared of any love and affection after what his father did to his poor mother, even though he desperately needed it

After months of containing his love for you, he realized-slowly- that you liked him back

You two were both in the library, completely alone

You of course didn't think Todokroki had feelings for you, as you did for him- you had accepted that you had a pitiful one-way admiration

With Todoroki’s presence merely a few feet away, you couldn't concentrate on your studies, but you couldnt bring yourself to leave

All you wanted to do was stare at the perfect separation of red and white in his hair, the scar that felt so mesmerizing and so him, that strong jawline that always made you feel weak in the knees….

Todoroki felt the tips of hair begin to lift slightly, as if a soft breeze was carrying him up. He watched as his book began to mysteriously lift in the air, the uncanny feeling of being watched making him turn sharply to look at you, an unreadable expression on his face

Todoroki’s piercing, mismatched eyes made you break from your daze, realizing you had been staring- and had used your quirk by accident

His book slammed back onto the table, his hair flopping back to his body, tickling his skin

He watched as you instantly looked down, fidgeting to get your books together hastily together, your cheeks a bright cherry red

He thought it was pretty cute, to see you so flustered 

Just as you were practically pacing out of the library to escape the embarrassing situation, Todoroki stopped in front of you, forcing you to stop as well

“I know you were staring at me.” he said matter-of-factly, making your whole face red

Why did he find that so irresistibly cute?

“I-I-I-uh-” you stuttered, having know idea what to say

You instinctively reached up to brush your hair behind your ear, but-

Todoroki grabbed your hand, his hand warm and calloused

“Would you like to accompany me... on a date tomorrow night?”He swallowed, a twinge of nervousness visible on his calm face

You stared, dumbfounded at the mysterious boy in front of you, not knowing really how things turned so well for you

“I-uh-yes!” you smiled, “I’d love to.”

Angst:

You watched helplessly as the whole forest erupted in flames, the orange tendrils lciking up the sides of the trees, dangerously close to your reddened face

“What was going?” you thought desperately “How did I get here?” Everything was destroyed, every object turning to ash before you...you had to get out...but where was Todoroki?

You began running, flying through the charred leaves as the flames crackled around you

You didn't know where you were going, until you were met with a clearing, the once healthy grass now nothing but dirt and ash that was attacking your airways

A fierce battle was going on, it definitely being the source of the flames- both attackers were fire wielders, going at each other mercilessly- but one of the attackers was different-he was using ice as well

“Todoroki!” you tried to yell, unable to use your throat- it was like someone was choking you, making you unable to talk

You tried to move, to grab your boyfriend and escape, but- you couldn't move. None of your body parts working properly.

You stood there paralyzed, helpless to the situation, unable to move as you watched your boyfriend fight his father, Endeavor, no mercy being evident on either side

Panic flooded your system, only able to watch as the battle began to go in Endeavor's favor, your lover getting hurt more and more and more...

Todoroki rolled over, reaching out his hand to find the warmth of your body, confused to find that you weren’t beside him

He had at first groggily thought you had gotten up to go to get some water, only to look up and be shocked out of his sleepiness

You were floating a foot above the place you were sleeping, your body in the shape of a “T”

Your arms were limply spread out, away from your body, as your head lolled back as if someone was pulling the strands of your hair 

“Y/n!” he gasped, quickly pulling you back to the bed 

You face was contorted in such a look of pain, Todoroki then began to realize you must be having a nightmare

He began to shake you awake gingerly, calling you by your name and his pet names he had for you

You finally woke up, gasping loudly as if you had been drowning in water

You looked around, panting, not recognizing where you were at first, finally realizing you were in the strong arms of your boyfriend

“How did you-what happened-I” you asked confused, grasping his face between your hands and just relishing the feeling of his skin, his scar, his hair, terrified this was a dream and your nightmare was real

“You were having a nightmare,” Todoroki stated, placing a hand above the one you had on his cheek, “but youre okay, I got you now. Youre safe.”

-----------------------

Requests open!!!!

[delicrieux]

Hello! May I have a one-shot with Kylo being injured and reader, who is part of the resistance, finds him and takes care of him? Thanks!

idk how this turned out to be 5k words but WHEW i mean if ppl want me to continue it im down so send in sum request of wat u think should happen!! xoxo gossip girl

requests are open! | masterlist | part 2.

Fear. The kind that makes it hard to breathe as if you are kept underwater; the kind that makes your muscles clench and freeze as all senses flow out one by one. Today had been almost too typical — you woke up, you trained, you talked to your comrades and learned battle strategy — and you were certain your evening walk would be just as uneventful. The breeze in your hair was playful; the setting sun provided warm light and set your surroundings in a pleasant, rosy glow. You like the fresh air; you like exploring; you like the freedom that comes with being alone in wilderness. And in turn, it serves as a reminder for why you are fighting in the first place. To preserve this peace, this freedom, that now has been tarnished when you stumble upon a body.

For a heartbeat you think he’s dead — his expression is lifeless and his face, pale as first snow, is bruised, covered in soot and dried blood. Willing your legs to move, you approach cautiously, not breathing, afraid to break the shrill, sudden silence — no birdsong, no wails of wind passing through trees… nothing. Life had, at that moment, stilled completely. But as you draw closer, grass crunching under your feet softly, you intake a breath of both relief and surprise. Dark locks of hair spray on his forehead and obscure the minuscule knit of his brows, his trembling lashes. He’s alive. The thought consumes you and you fall to your knees, skidding beside him, pushing his hair from his face and landing your palm on his forehead.

It’s awfully cold. Chilling. Almost biting at your sensitive flesh, urging you to pull away. It rolls in waves, this sudden cold, sudden sickness, as if it is a virus that spreads and you have caught it with this minimal contact. But you don’t pull away, despite the near overwhelming urge to do so, despite the fear returning with a new blow. Instead you glide your fingers down his jaw and press on his neck, breaking into a small, crooked smile once you feel a slow drum against them. He is alive, but barely. You glance about him, looking around the area. Nothing out the ordinary, no branches broken, no bushes disturbed and no trails left on the grass. How he got here is a mystery that will have to be solved a different time.

You hope he will tell you once he wakes up, if he even wakes up at all.

That, and, his name, too.

Your base is small and tugged away in a dense jungle, the tall trees and heat warding from unwanted visitors — the First Order. The compartments are small; there are barely above a few dozen people here; it serves more as a safe haven for lost wanderers looking for a cause or shelter, or a backup base in case others were destroyed and the rebels had nowhere to go. It is far away enough from war. Everyone here is, to some extent, safe.

You had never been on the front lines. You had never faced a Storm Trooper, had never seen the Force at work — if there even is such a thing, speculations speculations, nothing consistent, merely gossip — and you had never seen a dead body. Perhaps that is why you froze up so terribly at the sight of him. Perhaps that’s why you felt as if a void opened within you, swallowing up the last shred of light, of life, and leaving you hollow.

You should get used to the sight, though. There will be many dead in battle.

He’s the only one occupying a bed in the Medical Wing and he hasn’t woken up for two days now. His vitals are stable — no internal bleeding, no disease detected, nothing out of place as it seemed. But he is lost in deep sleep, constantly dreaming about something that made him tremble and muss and toss and turn, but never wake. It is entirely bizarre how his state is simply there, caused by no injury, no blow, nothing. And the more you take care of him… the more questions you get.

You eat in the cafeteria, a vast enough, pale walled space occupied by few people during lunch time. Next to you sits a blue eyed, blonde haired cherubic woman – she serves as the doctor, the only doctor here. She smiles lightly at you when you catch her gaze. You had always wondered why her name is Vendetta. 

The amount of denizens is small here, so small in fact that the only ones serving under this branch is a rag tag team of scavengers, travelers, nobodies that had abandoned their old lives to fight in this war. Rebels, quite literally, with a cause. Many have taken new names. Vendetta, too, had a name before this, a life, a different purpose. Though her odd choice leads you to believe that what ever had happened to drive her here was painful and severe, deserving justice. In front of you sits a tall, bony, brown haired, brow eyed mechanic with a scar running down half of their face – Q. And beside them, July – you had never seen him smiling, had never heard his voice hold a tender note in it. He is always displeased. Always with a frown.

“Seven.” Vendetta calls you, noting your blank stare, the untouched food in your plate. Seven. You chose this because you were the seventh child in your family, and, subsequently, the seventh person to join the Resistance when this base first opened.

“She’s probably thinking about the stranger.” Q mutters, taking a sip, “His origins are…” They glance about, leaning in slightly, “ A hot topic, after all.”

“We get injured wanderers all the time.” Vendetta waves them off, “As if he’s any different.”

“I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss him, V.” July grumbles, his voice low, the sound of crunching gravel. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, observing the three of you with something akin to hostility, “You never know who may be working for the Order.”

“You can’t just assume that.” You pipe up, “He might just be another gambler dropped by the Floating Casino because he couldn’t pay his debts.”

“Or he might be a spy.” July stresses, glaring.

“No one knows there is a base here.” You continue, unrelenting, “Half the Resistance doesn’t know it exists, how can someone from the Order?”

“Still, I advice we exercise caution.” Q says calmly, a pleasant smile on their face — if anyone can defuse an argument before it starts, it’s them, “You never know what people are hiding, Seven.”

“Okay,” Vendetta chimes, “I will certainly not disclose this vital information when the man awakes from his comatose state. I shall make sure to confuse and frighten him further by chaining him to his bed.”

“Good.” July says.

“That is not what I had in mind, and you know it.” Q mutters, a tad disappointed, “I was thinking more along the lines of… An interview.”

“Too civil.” July mumbles, “I say we go with Vendetta’s idea.”

“That was not an idea,” She hisses, “it was sarcasm.”

“Fine, interview.” You submit, “Either way, I doubt anyone from the Order would not say they are from there. They are feared. Probably would think he has the upper hand, or something. Plus, our disguise is impeccable. We look like a research facility. Better yet, a shelter if no one wanders up to the main rooms.”

“I also sincerely doubt anyone, Order or not, is so good at lying first thing when they wake up.” Vendetta agrees.

July narrows his eyes at her, “That is an awfully naive observation to make.”

“Really now? It is a known fact that people half-asleep always tell the truth.”

Another hour of this and you feel drained and sore and with a mild headache. As much as their company has helped you, they can be a bit too eager to prove one another wrong. On most occasions you’d enjoy the chatter. Today, however, you feel too distracted to focus on anything. Q makes some good points, July argues, Vendetta and her biting comments pick at your skin. Always the blazing look in her eyes, always a certain gleam of anger hiding within her mellow, sweet tone. You excuse yourself when you finish your meal and they do not keep you from leaving. Perhaps they noticed you being out of it. Perhaps they were too caught up in their new topic – Lo and Chester’s sudden break up. 

It does not take you long to come to the Medical Wing. The door shuts with a silent sweep and your heart drops – the bed is empty. Before you can do much else strong arms wrap around you from behind. With a yelp you feel a hand squeeze your throat and your breath leaves you with a helpless whine, sparks flying in your vision. Your reflexes kick in before you can control them. In a panic, you elbow your attacker in the chest and the grip loosens a bit, enough to allow you to escape and put some distance. Inhaling mouthfuls of air, you turn to the man that had been sleeping since you found him in the wilderness.

You never quite realized how tall he is, or how angry he could be. He’s confused and you see fire in his eyes, a sneer on his face, and he stands unmoving, waiting for you to try something, anything, so that he could grab you and try to kill you again.

You raise your hands, palms up —a fragile, harmless motion to indicate you mean no harm. His guard is still up. He’s heaving and his shoulders are tense, his gaze not once leaving your form, “…Hi,” You wheeze, almost voiceless, “I’m not here to hurt you.” You indicate softly. Cold, again, as if thrown into a bottomless ocean; body heavy, like a stone. You gulp. “Are you alright?” You question gently, afraid to provoke him again. “You must be tired. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Where am I?” His voice is deep and scratchy and it seems to set him off. He trembles from anger, you can almost feel the steady build up of rage in his chest, ”Who are you?”

“I’m Seven.” You introduce, “I found you outside our base. Do you know how you got here?”

He takes a threatening step forward and your arms shoot higher, “I’m not your enemy.” You insist, “You are not a prisoner here. You were dying and I wanted to help you.”

He regards you for a silent moment as if unsure whether to believe you or not. However, you sense that he will not try to hurt you, for now at least. You give him a shaky smile, trying to ease him — you cannot imagine how frightening it is to awake in some room among strangers and not knowing where you are or what had happened. “Do you…know your name?” You continue your questions, your arms slowly falling by your sides. After another pause, he nods curtly, “Good. That’s good.” you step away from his bed, “Please, lie down. You’re still recovering. No shady business, I promise.”

You are a bit surprised that he listens, but you don’t show it. He’s cautious, regarding you as if you were some dangerous animal cornering him, and his walk is sluggish. You can tell it’s hard for him to move, but don’t say anything. You doubt it would do any good. He finally sits down and just stares at you. You try to smile again, “Do you know how you got here? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“How long have I been here for?” He asks instead.

“Two full days in the base.” You say calmly, “But out there?” You vaguely motion with your head to the outside world, “I don’t know.”

Your answer unnerves him. For the first time his frown falls and he stares at you with big eyes and a trembling lip, as if a lost child not knowing what to do. That expression warps suddenly and he looks away, his hands gripping the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

“Well, if there is…anything you need…” You start mildly, “You can call upon me. Or Vendetta. She’s the doctor here, so if you feel any pain or sickness, you should tell her. She’s sweet.” You smile, “And she will help. But right now, just try to rest…I’ll…leave you to it.”

You bolt past him to the door but– “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

You turn back to him, shaking your head lightly, “No. But it doesn’t matter. A lot of adventures come through here, lost and injured. You aren’t the first one. Now rest, please.”

He’s volatile, is what you learn upon the first days of his resurrection. His mood can change in a flip of a coin and he goes from placid to enraged in a blink of an eye. Tantrums, yelling — all signatures of a spoiled child not knowing what he has but simply wanting to break it. He’s nobility, or so your peers gossip. You hear snippets of all sorts of things, each more outrageous than the one before. The one that he is a prince kicked out of home for adultery seems to be the most popular one.

And he’s egotistical. He had not been, besides the attempted murder, that hostile and untamed towards you — the choking you told no one about as you concluded he simply felt threatened and scared. Though his other tantrums you are not so quick to chalk up as self-defense. Vendetta, exasperated, one evening told you that she somehow offended him — ”All I said is stop pouting because you need my help!” — and he, with a bruised ego, so high and mighty promptly jumped out of bed. Whatever he was trying to do backfired — perhaps he was trying to leave, or trying to grab something and to hit her with — but he slipped and fell and hit his head into the sharp corner of table. “And I said to him, oh I said: look what you’ve done now! Off to bed, quickly!” Vendetta finished bitterly, stabbing her fork idly into her food, possibly imagining his face there. His nose, much to V’s displeasure, was not broken, but an ugly gash and a dark bruise split his skin in half and he laid in bed sulking for at least a day.

As the week passed, he seemed to favor your company the most. It is not that he smiled and joked and laughed in your presence, and you were not exchanging secrets or hugging or even calling each other friends. He simply seemed to be more mellow around you, possibly because you oddly knew what to say and what to keep silent. It is as if you sensed the subtle shift of his moods; could read his expressions in a way no one could, perhaps no one tried. And you would come and visit him as often as you could when relieved of your duties — you felt responsible for him in a way, and you wondered if you would still feel this weight on your shoulders when he eventually left this place. After all it was you that had found him lying in the grass; it was you that had insisted to help him; and now, it is you that brings him food and tries to provide some comfort in a form of conversation. You don’t pry into his past, don’t even ask for his name, because you know he does not want to give it, and you won’t risk questioning in fear of another explosion of his temper. You talk about inconsequential things: what’s happening around the base, what sort of plants grow around here, what bugs could kill him before he took two steps. He especially enjoys hearing the rumors about him, even if he is too prideful to admit that they amuse him greatly.

“And what if I am?” He questions one evening, something akin to a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a kind hazel color that could be beautiful if not for the persistent angry spark within them that is now, seemingly, vacant, watch you closely.

You frown softly, “Are what?” You question, “A prince?” He nods. You snort, “Well then, your majesty, I shall make sure to inform the others. What will be your first decree?” 

He pretends to think, “No more slacking around.” He says sternly, “This is supposed to be a military base, isn’t it?” He ends on a cheeky note. You gulp. Ah, yes, you might have let it slip that he’s in one of the Resistance’s safe houses, though you did not disclose the coordinates.

“On a mission to make fun illegal, are you?” You ask with a raised brow. 

He frowns, “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Childish, really, though you suppose it is better than arguing with July.

You feel it before you hear it— rain and thunder. The merciless patter on the roof and on your window. In night the sound is almost deafening — a loud roar of an engine, followed by cracks of lightning and flashes in the dark sky. You would have slept through it if not for the pins and needles washing your skin behind the warm sheets thrown on your body. You stir. Thunder roars and a flash of bright white light illuminates your room and seeps through the cracks of your lashes. Cold, again, as if standing in the middle of a storm.

You finally sit up, rubbing your face and then looking around to see if your friends are playing some sort of joke on you. You were almost certain they had dragged you outside and left you to get drenched. But you are alone in your room and you frown and shiver from the biting cold. Groggily you throw the sheets away and leave your bed, not entirely certain where you are going but there is a pull in your gut and half-asleep you follow it. You think you might still be dreaming —the rain on your dry skin feels real, though all dreams feel real until you awake. You leave the dormitories and take the elevator to the first floor. The base is silent, save for the shrill of machinery. Finally, still in your pajamas and almost fully awake, you step past the main entrance and stop.

It’s pouring, a curtain of rain obscuring the confusing contours of trees and leaves and bushes. The darkness does not help. A bleak light pulses to life once you pass the sensor and your surroundings illuminate. Thunder, lighting, more rain. You stand safe and dry under the roof, and he stands at the very edge of it, half soaking, his face kissed and washed by the rain.

You are not sure what to think. He seems lonely standing there surrounded by darkness and water. It’s whispers, or something akin to that, that urge and beseech that he does not want to be alone. You hear them somewhere in the back of your mind. If he noticed you, and he should have with the light suddenly on, he does not show it. You approach him slowly, your footsteps concealed over the heavy drum of rain.

“Not used to it, are you?” You ask, your voice followed by a bolt of thunder. He stirs, head tilting in your direction. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet — there is no hostility in them, no anger, just a distant sadness. You give him a soft smile, “I can tell you don’t see it often. I didn’t, either, at first. I grew up surrounded by deserts and I had not seen a drop of rain for at least eighteen years. But, here… Well, there’s no shortage of it. We have storms at least once a week. You’ll grow sick of it before you leave, trust me.”

He says nothing, still looking at you. The light sniffs out. Both of you stand unmoving.

“Why are you here?” He asks, a note of genuine confusion slipping past his calm tone.

“I… don’t know.” You admit. A frown pulls on your brows and you bite your lower lip, staring into the heavy curtain of rain, “I…I really don’t know.” You turn to him, “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, savoring the silence. Then, “I got bored laying in bed.” Somehow you feel that anxiety has more to do with his sudden nightly venture, rather than actual boredom. Though, you suppose it is quite tedious doing nothing all day. You imagine he is active, judging by his built. He has a strong character and he knows what he wants (most of the time), or rather has a distinct sense of what he doesn’t want. You imagine he’d be a good commander, or leader, with his deep voice and unrelenting stare, if only he wasn’t so sensitive. He’s too unpredictable. Too uncontrollable. His emotions get the better of him too quickly for him to be unbiased. For that reason alone you deem him unfit to be a spy, or a soldier, or a figure of military power. He’d burn all he would build if that were the case. No, him being of noble birth and being stranded here as some sort of twisted punishment sounds believable enough.

“What are you thinking?” He questions, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hum, ponder whether you should be honest with him or not. “Don’t lie to me.” He says suddenly and you jolt, heart drumming painfully in your chest. For a frightening moment you figured he could read your mind. Then again, you have been spending a lot of time together. He must have noticed how gentle you are with him, how carefully you pick your words. His signature frown is back, you see it for a second when lightning strikes.

“I was thinking about your life.” You admit, “Your work. Whether you really are a royal as most of my crew mates seem to think.”

Flash. You see half a smile blooming on his lips.

“But I know you won’t tell me. Don’t worry, I get it. Ladies love a mystery.”

“What?”

It’s your turn to grin, “Oh, please, it’s almost all I hear about. Seven brought a brooding stranger with a secret past into the base. Lo…Michel… Two of your rapid admirers. I already told you that your arrival has sparked many speculations.”

“I…I haven’t…” He sounds uncertain, flustered almost, as if embarrassed, but there is no way he is, you refuse to believe it. He stumbles upon his words and lastly says nothing. You snicker silently. Another flash of lightning and you see the same confused, puppy-like look on his face you have had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. He does not shield it this time, this moment of vulnerability. He probably doesn’t see the point because darkness obscures everything again.

You extend your hand to him as a silent offering. How many things have you offered him now? Life, health, your company. He regards it, ponders a bit, lastly gently clasps his hand over yours. You jerk. Electricity courses through you and your eyes go wide, tingles rushing all over your body. Lightning strikes. You see wonder on his face, a mimic of your own surprised expression.

“Come on,” You stutter, tugging him, “you’ll catch a cold.” He follows after you. The light blinks on. You don’t know what is happening. Couldn’t have been the thunder, the feeling is not as intense. It felt more like a build up of energy; like you accidentally touched a circuit and it zapped you.

Impossible, you hear something alike his voice but not quite — it’s quiet, distant, muddy.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Once inside, the door sweeps shut behind you, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He sounds a bit ticked now, and you decide to drop it.

“Oh,” You mutter, “must’ve imagined it, then.”

His hand is cold in yours and you squeeze it just a bit, hoping he won’t notice and hoping that you will warm it. When you reach the Medical Wing, you tilt your head and say, “Wait here. I’ll get you dry clothes from the storage.”

But as you turn to leave he doesn’t let go, though doesn’t say anything either. He’s choked up — either he doesn’t know how to say it or doesn’t want to say it at all. He doesn’t want to be alone. Those whispers come again, ringing in your ears so quietly you aren’t sure they’re even there. You give him a soft smile, catching his gaze, “Okay, we can go together. You’ll probably stay here for at least another week, so, it’s best you know where the storage is anyway.” There’s no rush in your words, no annoyance, just simple acceptance. It eases him, relieves him of saying and admitting things he’s not willing to bring to light.

The walk is quiet and you still hold hands. His is much bigger than yours, rough, though not unpleasant. They are hands of a man that uses them often — for better, or for worse — and a twinge in your heart, a sudden thud of uncertainty, informs you that your previous speculations might have not been correct at all. His hand doesn’t feel like that of a prince (not that you would know what that would feel like), no, it feels like a hand of a soldier. But that inching of something amiss is swept away by warmth, silent happiness, a certain deliriousness that starts blooming within you and spreading all around. You feel him, somehow; feel a connection. You can’t put it into words exactly, you doubt you could ever explain it to anyone. It’s fragile. And beautiful. And maddening that such a devout emotion is sprung by something as innocent as holding hands

You wonder if he feels it. You somehow know he does.

The storage room is not big. Your hand slips from his as he chooses to stand by the doorway and you rummage to get his things. You feel braver. Perhaps it’s the tiredness that leaves you so open and bold, but searching you can’t help but ask, “So tell me…” You start, handing him some towels, “What were you actually doing? Besides being melodramatic.” You add, your lips quirking upwards.

He regards you with lively eyes and you see a grin lift his cheeks. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and you know this action is precious and rare and you can’t help but beam at him in return, “You think I was being melodramatic?” He questions.

You laugh a little, a breathless bell-like “Yes” falling from your lips as you fetch him dry clothes from the upper shelf, “All you needed was a cape to swing around.”

His expression abruptly falls and the temperature drops with it.

“Right, no cape.” You mumble, a tad disappointed, handing him his clothes.

As you make your way back, you can’t help but saying, “I just thought it would suit you, is all.”

“What else do you think would suit me?”

You raise a brow, trying to keep up with his drastic shift in moods: again, hes smiling, then he’s pensive, now he seems lighthearted, genuinely curious. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You conclude.

He shrugs, “I’m just trying to figure out what you think of me.”

“And why are you curious?”

“Now you are the one asking a lot of questions.” He points out. You snort.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

This again, followed by quiet chuckles. You don’t turn to the Medical Wing now, instead stopping by the elevator and pressing the red button. The doors slide open. You glance at him.

“So…” You mumble, “This is not how I imagined my night going, but…” You aren’t quite sure how to finish, how to vocalize the strange swirl of emotions in your chest, “Well, goodnight.”

You step into the elevator, going to push the button—“Ben.” He says suddenly, making you flinch and turn to him. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at the floor, “My name. It’s Ben.”

Again, that same energy, that same shock you felt when you first touched his hand ignites your body with something closely akin to happiness. Trust. Bond. He trusts you. The connection you felt was not an exaggeration. He would not have given you his name otherwise.

“Goodnight, Ben.” You say softly, fighting a smile that’s trying to rise on your face, “Sweet dreams.”

“…Goodnight, Seven.”

As the elevator doors shut, you think you hear him say “Thank you”, but that might have just been your imagination.

.

hope you liked it! xxx

.

[deviatedwinter]

Not what I imagined

(Matt Taylor x Reader)

!! My Gif

Summary: Reader is freezing in the mines looking for Matt

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: a few swears, just overall grim circumstances but if you're a fan of Until Dawn you're used to it ;)

Slightly inspired by @untildawnwrites-blog !

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The screeching of metal brought you back to your senses.

You were clinging to a fallen fire tower that was slowly being swallowed by a dark ravine. Your  legs were folded underneath you as your boots rested on the decrepit railing, your hands gripping the deck. 

Just moments earlier you were with your friends Matt and Emily using the radio, trying to call for help. There was a psycho on the mountain who wanted to harm you and your friends. He had already gotten to Josh.. 

Shortly after a ranger received your cries, the tower fell.

You had been on the outside when you were startled by movement below. Something fast and strong had severed the tower's cables.

When the tower fell, it was as if it was falling on top of you. You clung to the building as the darkness of the ravine was thrown towards you.

Now, clinging to the rusted metal, you prayed that your friends were safe. Emily had been on the other side of the tower, so hopefully she must've jumped onto the snowy banks of the ravine before the tower totally sank.

Matt.

You cried out his name, hoping he was alright and hoping he could help you.

You heard a cough, and then some curses above you.

You then caught a glimpse of his violet jacket as he called your name out into the darkness.

"I-im here!" You cried, starting to feel heat emmenating from the small flames that licked the tower's interior.

"H-hold on, I'm coming!" You heard him grunt as the tower began to slowly creak.

You fought the urge to look down, knowing the drop was far. Instead, you tried to steady your breathing, the warm air from the flames mixing in with the frigid mountain draft.

Finally, you heard Matt above you.

"I'll try to get to you, just hold on!" He explained. You could just barely see his face above you once you craned your neck.

"Matt! Be careful!" You warned, not wanting his fate to be the same as yours.

A sickening creak sent your stomach spiraling in dread, but it was quickly interrupted when you saw a flash of movement above you.

A white sleeve, covered in grime followed by a beckoning hand awaited you.

"Grab my hand! I'll pull you up!"

Eagerly, you straightened out your legs to reach up and grab his hand.

That was your mistake.

At the sudden movement and shifting of weight, the railing you had rested upon gave way. A scream ripped from your throat, and suddenly Matt was growing smaller and smaller, and the cold wind bit at your skin. Above the sound of the air rushing past, you could've sworn you heard your name being cried out.

This was it. This is how you die.

You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to be met with hard stone, a sickening crack.

But instead, you felt the stone for a split second before being enveloped by icy liquid. It invaded your lungs, the bitter coldness stabbing at you like thousands of needles. Finally, you managed to swim upwards, your body expelling the water inside your lungs with a retch.

You took a few moments to take in your situation. You were in a river at the very bottom of the ravine, it being mostly dark except for the flaming tower far above and the slivers of moonlight. The current was slow and there were several stalagmites poking through the water's surface. You were relieved you hadn't landed on any of them.

Water was still in your ears, your hearing mostly muffled. You once again could've sworn you could hear your name being called out. 

Quickly, you regained most of your senses before trudging to shore, the shrill creaking of the tower above you loud enough to cut through your suppressed hearing. As you climbed onto the cold bank, your body trembled from the severe cold. Pain also shot up your legs and spine, your muscles sore from the impact of the fall.  The freezing water had clung to you like plastic wrap, and crystals slowly began to form on your clothing. With chilly hands, your patted your ears as you tilted your head, your hearing coming back with a pop. 

You yelped as a loud crash was heard behind you, sending a spray of freezing water onto your already soaked body.

The tower had fallen into the shallow water, causing waves to lap at the bank. There was a hiss as flames were meeting their demise at the contact of water.

You needed to find warmth. 

But alas, any surviving flames were in the middle of the river and in the process of being snuffed out. 

Behind you was a mineshaft, and to your right were sluices and a large decrepit water wheel. At least other people had been here before, maybe there was a way out.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you slowly made your way into the shaft, your eyelashes begainning to feel heavier as the water droplets trapped in them froze. You shakily slid your hand over your back pocket, suprised to feel the outline of your phone, but immediately your hopes were dashed, remembering how long you were in the water. Would it still even work? 

You pulled it out anyway, your numbed finger pressing the power button for any signs of life.

Your heart lept when your lockscreen showed up, thank god for your waterproof phone case. 

shakily you turned on the flashlight, its small beam making the trek in the tunnel easier. You began feeling the effects of the cold, your clothes feeling like they were made of mesh as your skin was nipped by the chill. 

You watched your breathe come out in clouds, your lips feeling chapped as your toes and digits became numb. You had to find warmth. You had to find Matt.

You whimpered, hoping your friend was okay. You hadn't seen him at the bottom of the ravine, could he have jumped off onto a ledge? 

"Matt?" You called out to the air, your voice dripping with fear. Your hope began to fade, and despair settled in. It wasn't fair, you wanted him to know how you felt, how much you cared for him. But as far as you knew, he could be dead, and this could be your last night on Earth. 

It felt like you had been walking for hours. Your body ached, and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the minute. However, the shaft appeared to slowly rise at an incline, could you be getting closer to the surface?

Your steps had turned clumsy, your mind foggy as you tried to navigate the underground systems. You had no doubt that you were succombing to hypothermia, it would only be a matter of time before you stumbled off a ledge or passed out completely. You could've sworn that you heard screeches in the distance, but you blamed it on your deterriorating mind, and maybe bats. 

You found yourself at a cavern, mining equipment strewn about as if the miners would come back  any minute, if you didn't take in account the rust and rotting wood. 

Your body was tired, you just wanted to curl up and hopefully find warmth that way. So that's what you did. 

You lowered yourself on the hard ground next to a few decaying crates, your body shivering as you brought your legs to your chest. The ice that had formed on your clothing was splintering and falling away from your movement, another reminder on how totally frozen you were. You were engulfed in darkness once you shut off your phone. Sleep beckoned you to its peaceful grasp, and you eagerly fell into it. 

❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅

Matt made his way down a dark mineshaft, the lantern in his hand giving in some warmth in the bitter night. At every turn, he meekly called out for his lost friends, especially one of them.

The person he was head over heels over, that he promised himself wouldn't get hurt under his watch, was down here somewhere, and most likely dead. The person who he had planned to confess his feelings to by the warm fire, or under the stars while gazing at the mountains. 

He wasn't good enough.

That's all he could think about as he traversed the spindling corridors, his heart sinking with every step. He was right there, he could have done something. 

Right after the teenager had witnessed his friend fall into the darkness, he leapt to a nearby platform to avoid being brought down with the tower. He had laid on his chest, peering over into the abyss and crying out their name, his heart breaking with the silence that answered him back.

But he had swallowed the tears. He had to be tough, there was no sense in him dying as well, although a part of him felt like it.  He had found a lantern and was now trying to find a way out. Finally, after some time, he wandered into an opening, several crates and equipment lying dormant. 

His eyes scanned the cavern before they landed on a mass in the shadows near the crates. Slowly, he crept forward and he jolted as the lantern's golden light fell upon your sleeping form. 

"Oh shit!" He cursed before calling your name, quickly kneeling beside you. Thats when he noticed the ice caked onto your clothes, and how your hair had been frozen stiff. 

He gently shook you, his hands warm and slowly he felt some of the ice underneath his touch begin to melt.

Slowly, your sleepy eyes opened and met his frantic ones, relief washing over them at the sight of you awakening.

"Matt..?" you whispered, your voice a hollow rasp of what it usual was. 

"You're alive.." he breathed, still in shock but relief washing over him in waves

"How the fuck are you still alive..?" he asked softly with bewilderment, taking note of your coldness and quickly shedding his letter jacket.

"Water..I fell in..water.." Was all that you could muster as Matt helped you peel your shaking arms out of your soaked coat, replacing it with his dry one.  His body heat that was absorbed by the wool warmed you, your gaze falling onto him.

"What about you..? You're gonna be cold.." 

He gave you one of his gentle smiles before helping you up.

"I'll be fine, I still got this denim jacket and my sweater. Don't worry about me." 

The familiar pain shot up your spine as you stood, your posture faltering before a pair of arms wrapped around you, keeping you steady. 

"Can you walk?" He asked gently, surprised by your fragile state.

"It hurts.." You whimpered, hating that he had to see you this way. But the pain, the cold, it was all eating at your effort to stay strong.

Matt felt his heart once again snap in two, his eyes taking on the puppy dog appearance that you'd grow accustomed to. 

You yelped slightly as he picked you up, his arms looping under your knees as he held you bridal style. 

"Matt-" 

"It's fine, I got you. I saw a light further down the shaft, we're almost out I think. Can you hold this for me? it might keep you warm." He removed an arm from underneath your back to grab the lantern, gently allowing your hand to wrap around its handle. Once you were situated, he got up with hardly a grunt. Even after all the night's terror, he was still strong. 

As he carried you down the shaft, you listened to his breathing, his body heat and the heat from the lamp slowly warming you up and clearing your mind. 

"I don't think there's just a maniac up here.." He said aloud, as if he was talking to himself rather than you in particular.

Your mind went back to the strange shape moving underneath the fire tower before it fell, to the shrieks you had heard echoing in the mine.

"Yeah..theres some..thing.." You replied weakly, fear starting to grip you.

Matt quickly tried to lighten the mood, a small smile returning to his face.

"Yknow, this isn't entirely what I imagined carrying you bridal style would look like." 

Your gaze turned towards his face, the yellow light of the lantern showing you the scratch on his cheek along with the dirt that clung to his skin. His cheeks were flushed in the light. 

"What exactly... did you imagine?" 

He hesitated before answering, another smile twitching at his lips.

"You'd be wearing white, maybe I'm in a tux, flowers and rice being rained on us."

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as well, them becoming warm despite your body's condition.

"When we survive this, I think that can still be...attainable." 

His joyful smile and reply was cut short by a shriek from behind, the color draining from both of your faces.

"Matt..?" You breathed out, fear gripping you.

His jaw clenched, the cogs in his mind spinning before he ran behind a wall of planks. He quickly set you down and turned the dial on the lantern to dim its light.

Both of you stood still as you heard something scampering on stone behind you. Matt held you close, his breath stalled as the creature screeched, the frail boards the only thing separating you and the monster. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw it. A gaunt, white creature crawled on the wall effortlessly, its limbs scuttling the surface like a spider. It shrieked once more before scampering to another area of the mines.

You slowly let out a breath, and so did Matt, the two of you sharing the same terrified and confused glance. Neither of you cared about what that thing was, you only cared about getting the fuck out of there. 

This time, Matt picked you up once more with haste, your hand barely scooping up the lantern before he stood and ran down the shaft.

You spotted light ahead peaking through some boards, and so did he.

You allowed him to set you down once more, this time standing on your own with the lantern as he backed up. You watched with shaky knees as he broke through the rotting wood with his shoulder, revealing a large outcrop with the lodge in the distance.

Holy fuck, you had wandered back to the lodge all the way from the tower...through the mines??

Matt held out his hand, and you gently took it as you both edged out onto the ledge, relief filling both you, the adrenaline coursing through your veins warming your bodies.

"Is it too soon the check up on your offer?" Matt breathed, his palms meeting his knees as he caught his breathe.

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

The Zone

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Mentions of violence, bruising, allusions to corrupt government, drug use, underage drinking, knives, mentions of neo-nazis, bad eating and sleeping habits, a mention of sex, mentions of death and the dead. 

Word Count: 3.7k

Songs: Changes- Charles Bradley, 4 Morant- Doja Cat, Prey-  The Neighborhood, Stay Together- Noah Cyrus, Without me- Eminem, Colors- Halsey, Where’s My Juul??-Full Tac, Pork Soda-Glass Animals, Everyday- A$AP Rocky, Facts- Kanye West,  Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?, Immortal- J.Cole, High Enough- K,Flay, Drugs- UPSAHL.

A/N: This is pretty short but it’s also the fasest I’ve released a chapter after the other was released.

Series Masterlist   Previous Part   Next Part

I smashed the keypad multiple times with the handle of a knife before the metal finally fell. I pulled all the wires out before hearing the words ‘System Malfunction’. 

If I hadn’t disarmed the alarm system already. I’d probably be worried right about now. I manually slid open the cell door. 

That’s when she glanced up at me.

“Took you look enough,” She smirked. 

“I could’ve gotten you out sooner if you didn’t get your ass locked up in solitary,” I tossed her the Black Cat suit. 

“You know I still don’t know your name or what you look like,” She stated pulling the suit up “and I don’t think that's fair seeing as you know those things about me,” She cooed. 

I pulled my mask over my face “It’s Y/N. Happy now?” 

“Wow I always knew your voice sounded attractive, matches the face,” 

“Okay, we can kiss my ass later but now we have about 2 minutes to get out before the guards come and get us,” 

Leaving the building the same way I came in through the vent. You’d think they’d have better security. I was thankful they didn’t when we finally reached the car. 

“Who’s car is this?” Felicia asked hopping in the passenger seat. 

“Dunno,” I said, putting the car in the drive. 

“Hold on tight,” I warned before ramming into the fence at full speed successfully knocking it down. 

I was definitely not holding my breath that whole time. And I definitely was not doubting myself. Okay maybe I was, a little.

“I’m surprised that actually worked, none of this was planned at all,” I laughed in relief.

She laughed along with me 

“Plans are for the ‘good guys’, if you’re smart enough you don’t need plans,” 

“If that’s not the truth,” I replied turning onto a deserted road “You owe me again, I’m not counting, but I believe the score’s 3:1,” 

She was right, you never need a plan. Second moral to the story is that even “villains” never work alone. I know I always talk that “every man for themselves” mess but everyone needs a support team. And for people who supposedly have no morals they haven’t betrayed me yet. 

There are the bad guys and then there are the bad guys. The heroes didn’t seem to care which you were, they just wanted you locked up or dead and to get all the glory for it. I think it’s time one of us gets the glory.

“Ow!” I exclaimed, pulling myself out of my thoughts. 

“Sorry,” Olivia muttered, “You need to be still,” She said, dabbing a cloth on my leg. 

“Well it’s hard to be still when your leg is burning,” 

I was expecting some jab or joke like normal but it was silent. She looked up at me and I could see the tears forming in her eyes. 

“Y/N…” Her eyes drifted over my bruised and cut up body, her voice breaking. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, I promise I’m fine,” 

“How am I supposed to believe that when you won’t tell me anything?”

“I don’t tell you anything cause then you’d worry,” 

“Well I’m already worried!” 

The next day of school was very ordinary. Well as ordinary as it got when you were a kid who was wanted in multiple cities. My body wasn’t as sore as it was the day before, the bruises were clearing up, but honestly these new weapons were no joke. I’d seen them burn straight through buildings and a ferry now. Anyways like I was saying before today was ordinary, nothing exciting unfortunately. 

Rich kids in Queens take homecoming a little too seriously. For the most part, I’m not complaining penthouse parties were fun. Rich white kids love their molly. 

Harry Osborn was one of those rich kids. If we’re being honest I feel like he does coke on occasion. I don’t think he actually liked homecoming all that much seeing as he’s pretty new to our school. I just think he likes being able to brag about his parties and get wasted at parties. 

One of those parties would be the one I was getting ready for right now. 

Olivia walked into the bathroom and stood in the doorway. This bathroom was very modern as well as the whole house. Like an art gallery.

“Hey kitten,” I said since she wasn’t going to say anything. 

“Hey,” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I asked.

“You know how I feel about Harry’s parties,” 

That I did, her dad and Harry’s dad seemed to have some sort of beef. That I didn’t care enough to get into. But Olivia's family took it pretty seriously. I guess I could say Felicia and Olivia’s family. It’s still weird to see them as siblings. It’s not surprising, just weird. Just a weird family of kleptomaniacs. 

This isn’t something I say often but I looked really hot. Like really fucking hot. I had even winged eyeliner. A nice black tube top. A pastel pink tennis skirt. I had black thong type thing on, you could see the thin straps resting on my waist from above the skirt. It wasn’t like I was trying to get fucked or anything because I was not planning on being the slightest bit of sober. 

I also had thigh high socks on but only because they could conceal a knife and I’d been on high alert lately. Just because I wasn’t going to be sober didn’t mean I couldn’t protect myself. It's a sort of muscle memory when it comes to knives, at least with me 

If I wore this anywhere near the kids at my old school they’d probably call me a wannabe white girl, but those kids aren’t there and they have no part of my life anymore. 

I just wanted to get so fucked up that I couldn’t think at all. 

I couldn’t help but think. That’s all I could do lately. My brain wouldn’t slow down to let me breathe for even one second. I just wanted to breathe and go to bed. I still can’t sleep. At least now I have a valid reason. I don’t like talking about it because it’s not a big deal or anything, but today is the anniversary of-. It’s the day Rose died. No use sugarcoating it. It passes every year, no use being in my feels about it. Couldn’t help it though, every year I’d get sad about it for about 5 minutes until I did so many drugs that I couldn’t blink. 

As soon I stepped into the house. I was hit with the buzz I hadn’t felt in a while. I missed it too. It wasn’t like Liz’s “party” her thing could’ve been fun but the whole headache, Vulture thing and lack of drugs made it suck. 

Anyways who cares about that. I’d been at this school long enough to know who had molly. I’d either have to flirt with them or pay which I was down for either. 

See I knew the chewlery gem rod I had attached to a necklace would come in handy one of these days. Now I wouldn’t bite my mouth. 

Only problem is I could still think.  Which wasn’t good. There was some sort of jungle juice on the table but I just went straight for a bottle of beer sitting on the counter, because I was shaking too much to pour anything. 

Beer has to be the nastiest form of alcohol out there. It looks like pee, tastes like pee, it’s like they didn’t bother trying to mask the taste of yeast in it. 

My body was vibrating in a good way as I started talking to people. By the time I’d made small talk with the third person around me. I’d finished the beer and I went back to the kitchen to fill a cup with some form of alcohol and soda I wasn’t picky. Harry must’ve had the same idea. 

“Hey,” He said. 

“Hey, where’s your groupie,” I said referring to the blonde that’d I seen around him earlier. 

“You mean Gwen?” He said, bringing a solo cup to his lips. 

“Probably,” I moved over grabbing the orange soda next to me. 

“Why’re you wondering, jealous?” He asked being his signature flirtatious self. There was this one time that we… you know. But we were both drunk so it doesn’t count. 

“You wish I was jealous,” I rolled my eyes “We both know you're the one obsessed with me,” I laughed. 

“Yep, dream about you every night,” He joked back. 

I took a sip from my drink squinting as it slightly burned my throat. 

“I’m sure you do,” I headed out of the kitchen. 

I could feel my brain slowing down as I started to calm. That was until Facts by Kanye came on. Then suddenly it felt like my blood was boiling in my veins and I couldn’t breathe and not in the good way. I made my way to the nearest bathroom and hoped no one was making out in there. 

I opened the door and the coast was clear. 

I splashed water on my face. When I looked in the mirror my pupils were dilated and my face was flush. Normally my skin tone masked the effects of blushing but not this time.

 I wasn’t drunk. Maybe I was but I wasn’t enough. I was still laying on the bathroom floor because it was cold and felt good in contrast against my hot skin. I was going through my phone and landed on Peter’s number. I texted him because I was bored and I can text whoever I want. 

you: helo 

About thirty seconds later he responded, guess he was already on his phone. 

P 😜🤚: Hey 

you: do yuo like pengwings

pengns 

fck 

penguns 

penguins 

He read the messages and responded rather quickly 

P 😜🤚: ? 

You okay? 

you: yesh im fine d you like penfuins 

P 😜🤚: Are you drunk 

you: no im nt drunk i m jst hPpy 

P 😜🤚: yeah sure, where are you. 

Before I could think, I clicked the option to send location. Even if I did think it wouldn’t have done much help. None of my thoughts were coherent. I was actually happy, like really really happy. 

I was still laying on the ground when I felt the floor vibrate with the knock at the door. 

“Who is it?” I asked. 

“Peter,” The voice called out

“Come in!” I said in a sing-songy voice. 

He opened the door slowly and looked around before looking down at me. 

“Hiii,” 

“Hey, what are you doing on the floor,” 

I shrugged after slowly pushing off the floor so I wouldn’t lose balance.

“How’d you get here?” Since I know he couldn’t drive. 

“I got an Uber,” 

“That’s adorable,” 

“What’s adorable,” 

“You, you spent money on a ride just to come see me,” I pointed out, voice cracking halfway through the sentence as tears started to well in my eyes. 

 “Wait don’t cry, I’m sorry, did I do something? If I did sorry for whatever it was-” 

“No you didn’t do anything, it’s just me,” I moved a hand off the counter I was holding onto for balance before wiping my face. I don’t cry, at least not willingly and definitely not in front of anyone else.

“Well I was going to…” He fiddled with his hands before continuing “I was going to ask if you needed a ride because I didn’t know if you drove here or not and you’re clearly drunk-“

“I’m not drunk!” I said. “I don’t drink how could I be drunk,” 

“Okay, but like I was saying do you need a ride?” 

I was going to say I didn’t want to leave yet but it’s not like I was doing anything but being pathetic and hanging out in the bathroom. 

“Fine, yeah” 

Peter opened his mouth like he was about to say something but a knock on the door interrupted. I immediately opened the door and grabbed Peter’s wrist running, for no reason except I felt like it. I bumped into a couple doorways 

By the time we’d made it out by the pool Peter was hunched over trying to catch his breath. 

I started running toward the water and I could hear a faint 

“Y/N don't!” As I was running but it was too late seeing as I was already in the water. I laughed as I broke the surface as I floated on my back. 

Peter came over to the edge of the water and squatted down. 

“Y/N” 

“And nothing hurts anymore I feel kinda free!” I sang splashing around in the pool. 

“Y/N” 

“We're still the kids we used to be,” 

“Y/N!” Peter yelled, snapping my attention back to him. 

“Hmm?” I asked. 

“You need to get out the pool,” 

“I don’t wanna,” I whined. 

“Yeah I know but don’t you wanna go home?” He asked. 

The last place I’d ever want to go is “home” 

“No, get in the pool,” 

“Y/N,” He said sternly. 

“Pleaseee,” 

“Get out the pool it’s cold you’re gonna get sick,”

“Fine…” I made my way begrudgingly to the steps of the pool. 

Peter gave me the hoodie he was wearing so I was able to take my skirt and socks off. I put the knife I had in the hoodie pocket. 

The last thing I remember is getting in some car. 

Oh shit 

I woke up in a room that I did not recognize. I swear to God if I got kidnapped again. I sat up quickly and hit my head on something. It was dark but there was a nightlight. Thank God if we’re being honest I’m scared of the dark. Long story I don’t wanna get into it.

I was definitely hungover, headache prominent. It only worsened when I stepped out the room and the light from the TV hit my eyes. I glanced over to Peter laying on the couch. 

Oh yeah I forgot about that. 

“Hey…” I whispered. He shifted a bit “You awake?” 

He sat up and looked at me rubbing his eyes before bombarding me with questions. 

“Did you- Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Do you need painkillers? Sorry that I brought you here and didn’t ask. That's really creepy but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you because you seemed tired. Again sorry it’s just I didn’t really even know where you lived and I was-“

“Oh my God, shut up!” I interrupted. 

He looked stunned, blinking a few times. 

“Sorry,” I held my hand to my forehead in exasperation. “Sorry, it’s just you- you were making my head hurt.” 

“Oh I’m sorry,”

“No, I promise it’s not you, if it’s okay with you can I go back to sleep? I don’t really feel like going home right now,” 

“Yes of course you can!” He sat up and pushed the blanket off of him before standing. “Wait I’ll be right back,” He said. I nodded before hesitantly sitting down on the couch. 

He came back rather quickly with a glass of water and some painkillers. I mumbled a quick thank you before taking them. 

I yawned, surprised that I was able to actually feel tired. Normally it took at least a few hours before I could sleep if I even got the chance. 

“You can take the bed,” Peter informed. 

“I just wanna stay right here,” I said lazily. 

He tried to scoot over but I already had my arms wrapped around him so I squeezed him tighter. I looked up and his face was tinted red, smiling before I drifted off. 

I felt light hit my face and I heard the squeak of a door. I sat up and slowly unwrapped my arms from around Peter. Walking over towards May. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know if it was okay for me to stay here I should’ve called and asked,”

“No, no it’s perfectly fine,” 

“Okay…”

“He talks about you all the time you know,”

I smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Thanks for not killing me for being in your house,” I joked. “But I should probably get home anyway,” 

I didn’t go home. Mostly because I don’t have an actual home. I didn’t go to any of the almost 13 places I’ve stayed at, at some point either. I went to some shitty hotel. I had enough money to stay for about a week. Which was great I could stay for all of homecoming week then I’d have to find somewhere else to stay before I got more money at least. 

The last step for this day was go to Olivia’s house and get my stuff back. I made my way into the house through the back door, and sure enough she was sitting on the couch like parents in movies when they catch you sneaking out.

She eyed the bag in my hand.

“So you’re leaving?”

“I-“ I didn’t get the chance to speak.

“And you weren’t going to tell me, oh okay,” 

“Olivia…” 

“Where are you gonna stay?”

“I’m going back to my grandma's house,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, again I’m sorry that I tried to leave without telling you I just-“

“Didn’t want to be interrogated?” 

“Yeah…”

”It’s okay, I get it, come give me a hug,”

I moved giving her a hug and she mumbled 

“You smell like booze,” 

As soon as I got back to the hotel I turned on the movie Frozen. Which I knew was a bad idea because the movie always made me cry. 

I ended up crying myself to sleep and by the time I woke up I was late for school. I slept for 18 hours straight.  

If I was going to be late might as well have had a reason. So, I got smoothies. 

“I love smoothies a lot, but banana is so so strong. Which like makes it pointless to put anything else in it. People should stop saying strawberry and banana smoothie because in reality it’s a BANANA and strawberry smoothie,” I took another sip of my smoothie.

“Damn bitch, you’re saying a lot and fast what’d they put in that smoothie,” Bri said examining the cup before turning to me again “And can I have some?” I laughed before lighty shoving her shoulder. 

“Noo! Continue talking you were my reference for my excitement portrait,” MJ said flipping her sketchbook towards me “I’ve missed my one and only chance to see you happy,” 

“Now I know you’re not talking, I don’t think anyone has seen you smile ever,”

I slid down the bench of the lunch table 

“Whatcha watching Phineas?” I asked Peter. He quickly swiped out the app. “Was it porn?”

“No! Wha- What?” 

I patted his shoulder “Relax dude, I was just messing with you,” 

That was the last I’d spoken to any of my friends. In all actuality that was the last time I’d spoken to anyone besides the hotel staff. I hadn’t been to school since...what’s today? Wednesday. Well then I hadn’t been to school since 3 days ago. Which also means I haven’t eaten since a week ago? 

Okay I know how bad that sounds but it’s not like I’ve been eating nothing. I just haven’t been hungry lately, I have had snacks though like goldfish and chips. I’ve just been too lazy to cook and don’t have the funds to cook. I’ve also been too lazy to fake a smile or whatever so I just haven’t been going to school. 

However what I have been and haven’t been eating is the issue of concern here. It’s that alien shit from the Avengers a few years ago is so much deeper than anyone could have ever thought. I’d been in research mode for a while now. I call it the zone, anything you say to me will go unheard, I mean business when I’m in the zone. If I want something to happen it will. 

“Okay so, I’ll start with the government flash drive. So the aliens that attacked a while back in 2012 were called Chitauri. So Loki had control of them and was using them as an army. Loki being Thor’s brother and the God of mischief,” I clarified. 

''And Loki was attacking because he wanted to be king but his brother was king instead. I mean I think, I don’t really get that part. So there was this thing called the tesseract and it’s supposedly like super powerful. This branch of government called Shield doesn’t want Loki to have this so they keep, then the invasion ensues. This tesseract however is some space stone and Loki used it to bring in the aliens. It’s some sort of infinity stone whatever that means. Howard Stark found the stone in the ocean, because a Stark is always gonna be the one to fuck the world up when they think they’re helping. Then he and someone else founded Project Pegasus-” 

“What’s project Pegasus?”

“I don’t really know but I know it stands for potential energy group alternate sources,”

“Oh, so it’s Shield that’s over this… Tesseract?”

“Exactly!” I clapped and the papers with all the information I printed from the flash drive rustled underneath me. 

“What are you going on about?” Carmen asked. “Like what’s the bigger picture?” 

“That’s the thing! I don’t know, this is like so covered up and coded that I can’t figure it out with information that I have,” I turned towards her “But I will, and that’s where your help comes in,”

“Y/N, when’s the last time you slept?” She tilted her head like those dogs in Minecraft when you have food. 

“Last night,” I waved her off. 

I looked down at the information I was able to find out about Kingpin since he was mentioned in the video my mom made for me. Apparently she worked for him for a while. So did Felicia but all she’d ever tell me was “He was an ass he did give me a gift I’m grateful for though,”. He had affiliations with everyone. 

From what Black Widow released out unto the world he had connections with a Neo Nazi group called HYDRA which brainwashed people from what’ve heard. 

Before I’d just wanted to take down the Vulture out of pettiness if we’re being honest, but now. Oh now? I knew I’d have to. 

Another paper I’d printed from Kingpin’s affiliations caught my eye. 

“Hey Carmen,”

“Hm?”

“Ever been to Vegas?” 

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

[myheroacademiashorts]

HI, I REALLY LIKED THE LAST ONE YOU DID WITH BAKUGOU AND THE READER, NOW IM BACK🤡 if it aint too much to ask, may i get a request with kirishima where him and his girlfriend go grocery shopping? like the others planned what they want to eat and so kirishima and his s/o go get the ingredients they need; but they get sidetracked 🤡 his s/o keeps sitting in the cart while kiri drives them around (crazily), they keep trying samples, etc. they get what they need and head back to the dorms🥰 thanks!!

HI I don’t much about stores in Japan butttt I LOVE THIS IDEA SO HERE U GO SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!

Title: Shopping Cart Joyride

Prompt: (Requested!)

Rating: Fluff!

Words: 5,870

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“You know what would go great with these notes? Some sukiyaki.”

You snorted at Mina’s words, partially ignoring her as you continued to show Tsuyu the correct math equation. The girls from 1-A were all gathered in the living room, notes and textbooks haphazardly scattered across the coffee table and floor. While you weren’t the smartest student within the class, you were at least in the top 5, meaning you and Momo had been recruited by your other classmates to run a studying session.

“Oh, that does sound good! Do you think we have everything for it?” Ochako piped up in excitement, and soon everyone was chattering about the prospect of hot pot. Even your stomach was growling at the thought.

“Do you think we could convince Bakugou to make it? He’s the best chef here.”

“Oi! Talking shit, you extras?”

Just as the words had left Mina’s lips, the infamous hothead himself entered the building, a gym bag tossed over his shoulder and sweat glistening from his forehead. Trailing close behind him were Kirishima, Kaminari, and a handful of the other boys who forced themselves through Bakugou’s tough regime, huffing and puffing as if they just finished a marathon. Your E/C gaze immediately sought out Kirishima, drifting over his frame before dropping to your notes once more, a light blush adorning your cheeks. From beside you, Jirou nudged your arm with a grin. Your crush on the red head was apparent to a lot of your classmates, except for him it seemed. Not that you minded that fact too much; just imagining Kirishima knowing about your little crush and ignoring it would be too embarrassing.

“Always, Bakugou! But we’ll stop if you make us sukiyaki for dinner!” Mina bartered, sitting more upright as she let her attention zero in on her target. He snorted, shouldering his bag with narrowed eyes. You swung your attention back to Kiri, and immediately swung it away after meeting his eyes. Crap, you thought to yourself, biting down on your bottom lip. That was unexpected. You could feel almost all of the girl’s eyes on you, most likely because they caught the awkward interaction. Ochako swore that Kiri felt the same way, but you always brushed her off. He never seemed to treat you any differently than the other girls, so why would you assume otherwise?

Mina continued to plead to Bakugou, until he finally broke. “Fine! Just stay the hell out of my way, or I’ll kill you!” He barked, shoulders tensed as he dropped his bag onto the chair and storming into the kitchen. Only a few seconds ticked by with the sound of banging cabinets before he returned to the room, pan held in one hand like a weapon. “How in the fuck am I supposed to cook something when there’s no ingredients, huh dumbasses?”

Mina’s face fell. “Ah, I forgot about that part…”

“Idiot!”

Momo perked up. “Hey, it’s still early. We can still go get some ingredients, right?” She looked to her peers, who all nodded in agreement, before returning her attention to Bakugou. “Make a list of what you want, and we’ll send someone for them! How simple!”

His frown grew, but he did as Momo asked and stepped into the living room, dropping his frying pan onto the couch before scribbling down what he needed in a lone notebook. He tore out the page and, strangely enough, handed it to you. “Here. Get all of this, or else.” He threatened lightly, but the words didn’t hold the punch. Before you could reply, he was out of the room, trudging up the stairs and to his room. “Be back in an hour or you’re fucked!” He hollered out behind him. 

“I guess I’m in charge of this, huh?” You sighed, standing up from your spot on the floor with a groan. Your legs were sore, being in the same position for nearly an hour, and made your way to the kitchen where your class hid its food money, shoving a majority of the wad into the pocket of your sweatpants. You felt a presence behind you, and immediately yelped when a hand grabbed your arm.

“Woah! Calm down, it’s just me.” Kiri raised his hands by his head in mock innocence, grinning as you placed a steady hand over your rapidly beating heart. He was still in his gym clothes, red basketball shorts and a white t-shirt, although his hair was slightly damp. No doubt due to a shower he had taken after working out. You shoved the thought out of your head almost as quickly as you had formulated it. The last thing you needed to think about was Kiri in all of his bare glory, from his biceps to his happy trail down to his… man, you really needed to stop imagining that before it was too late. A hand appeared in your vision, and you snapped back to reality.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“Yeah! I was asking if you needed some help to the grocery store! I’m sure those bags will be pretty heavy.”

He wrapped one hand behind his neck, grin softening as you debated his proposal. On one hand, you’d be alone with him for an uncertain amount of time and, while you were certain you wouldn’t make a fool out of yourself, that couldn’t be promised… On the other hand, you’d be alone with him for an uncertain amount of time. Without the eyes of your gossip-greedy friends. Which didn’t sound bad at all.

“You know what? Sure. Thanks, Kiri.” You smiled at him, noticing the way the tips of his ears reddened. It made your heart jump to your throat. “No problemo! Let me grab my coat, and we can head out!” He was as loud as always when he bounded out of the kitchen, practically flying up the stairs. As soon as he exited, you released a sigh and went back into the living room. At that point, the boys had surged with the girls, studying forgotten as a rerun of an older movie played on the TV screen. Ochako had her phone in her hand, no doubt notifying the group chat of that night’s dinner plans; a ploy to get Midoriya out of his bedroom. Her gaze swung to you.

“So! Kiri and you are going to the store, huh?” She said, and you didn’t miss the suggestive tone in her voice, nor the wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Yeah, we are. Why?” You play innocent, batting your lashes at your friend as she snickers. The familiar blonde of Kaminari pops into your line of sight, and he’s wearing a similar grin. “Oh, no reason!” He sings, leaning over the couch’s cushions on his stomach, chin propped up by his palms as he kicks his legs up and down like a preteen girl. “Just try to stay away from one another, hmm? Can’t have your flirting get in the way of our dinner, you know.”

You flicked his forehead, hard enough to earn a whine from the boy. “Shush, you’ll get your food. Jeez.” You barely notice how his eyes darted behind you before returning, and his smile taking on a more flirtatious turn. He leans forward more, pushing up and hovering his face only inches away from your own. “Well, if you ever get tired of waiting, don’t forget I’m always he-” He’s stopped as a familiar hand lands on his face, shoving him off of the couch and unfortunately leading to him crashing to the floor with a groan. You look beside you, Kiri’s hand still in the air but an ever-present smile on his lips. “Ready to go?” He chirped, and you notice how he’s switched out his shorts for dark jeans, a bomber jacket tossed over his shoulder yet unworn.

“We’ll be back soon, guys!” You shoot a final farewell to your classmates before Kiri sweeps you out of the building. You’re grateful that the nearest store is only a few minutes’ walk away; not because you don’t like walking with Kiri, but because you’ve just noticed how the wind has started picking up and your current outfit isn’t really cut out for cold conditions. You wish you would’ve changed, your wrinkly t-shirt and sweatpants suddenly looking less appetizing than they had only moments ago. You drift your eyes back to Kiri’s jeans, climbing them up his leg and chest until they meet his ruby eyes. Again. You bit your lip and looked away. Second time. I’m slipping up. You joked to yourself

“Are you cold?” Kiri asked, disregarding how you had pretty much eyed him. His attention instead shifts to your crossed arms, before moving to the sidewalk ahead of him, cheeks dusted from the cold. You were a little chilly, but you’d never admit that to him. Especially since he seemed fine. “Nope! The weather is great right now!” You exclaimed a bit more than you needed to, and to prove yourself, you uncross your arms and will them to casually swing beside you. You hoped he didn’t notice the shiver that ran through you.

“Well, at least it isn’t too far of a walk! Hey, did you understand Present Mic’s lecture today? I didn’t…” He switches the topic quickly, and you happily delve into the new subject as you try your best to explain the new information that had been drilled into your minds earlier that day. By the time you’ve finished, the two of you are idle in front of the market, and you’ve partially forgotten about how cold you are. At least, until you enter the store and you’re hit with a blast of warmth.

You pull the crumbled list from your pocket, eyes scanning over Bakugou’s scrawled words. “We might need a cart. Looks like Bomb Boy wanted everything the store had to offer.” The comment earns you a chuckle, and you take it.

“Already five steps ahead of you, partner!” You look to see Kiri already armed with a plastic cart, his jacket balled up in the corner of it.. You shift away from the entrance to avoid blocking it, and he follows dutifully, swinging the cart to his right as he glances over to you beside him. “What’s the first on the list?” Kiri ducks his head beside yours, shoulders brushing as you give him a chance to go over the list himself. You’re a hair away from his face, and so close that you can see a little scar that’s practically invisible on his otherwise clear forehead. You stare at it for a moment too long, wondering if there’s a story behind it, before he swings his attention to you and suddenly your lips are inches away from one another and your brain sort of short circuits to the point that all you want to do is close off that couple of inches that sits between your lips and-

You stumble backwards and plaster on a weary smile. “Vegetables first! Let’s go!” You rush the words out and surge forward, painfully ignoring the fact that you were seconds away from ruining your friendship with Kiri. He stills for a moment, then he’s close behind you. You almost miss the blank look that’s overtaken his usually bright expression, but it disappears too quickly for you to properly register as his familiar grin returns. “Man, wouldn’t it be funny if we got only a few vegetables and a bunch of meat? I bet Bakugou would blow a gasket!” He said, and you forced yourself to chuckle at the thought.

The first few moments are filled with an awkward silence, as you read off of the list and Kiri finds the items said. After a few ingredients later, Kiri swings his head around, scanning the store curiously. “Hey, when you were a kid, did your parents ever drive you around in the shopping cart?” The question is unprompted, and you tilt your head at the red head in confusion.

“Um, not really. My mom didn’t take me with her when she shopped, usually. Why do you ask?”

“Well- Wait, never? Dude, you missed out!”

A small smile graced your lips. “I guess I wouldn’t know, huh?” You teased lightly, but Kiri doesn’t laugh; instead, he glances around once more, before moving all of the collected vegetables into the same corner of his jacket.

“Alright, get in!”

You stare at him for a moment, eyes scanning over his serious expression. You’re still smiling. “Seriously?”

“Seriously! C’mon, it’s dead here. No one will say anything about it!”

You highly doubted that, but only shook your head before doing as Kiri asked, wobbling slightly as you climbed into the cart. Kiri’s arm automatically shoots out to balance you, and you use it graciously, appreciating the warm muscle under your palm as you steady yourself and sit down, facing away from Kiri and arms wrapped around your knees. “Are you ready?” He asks in a giddy tone, and you have a feeling he’s more excited than you are for this. Nonetheless, you nod, and suddenly you’re barrelling down the aisle, flashes of green blurring slightly. A surprised giggle bubbles from your lips, your hands moving from your knees to the cart’s walls on either side of you.

He cart-drifts the turn, and you wonder if you’re going to crash straight into the table of bananas before you’re flying once more. Your giggles have escalated into shrieks of glee, and from behind you can hear Kiri’s breathy laughter as he pushes the cart. He halts the cart expertly, and you nearly fall forward and face-first but catch yourself. You’re still laughing, and Kiri joins in with you. Despite how short the first ride was, you enjoyed it. It felt exhilarating, and a part of you was ready to do it all over again. You and Kiri made eye contact for only a second, and then you’re flying through the air again, screaming like a child with Kiri close behind.

That is, until the store’s employee just happened to turn the corner at the exact wrong time.

He seized up, panic flowing over his features as he saw you and Kiri barrelling towards him in a bright red cart. Kiri automatically hit the breaks, lurching you forward before slamming backwards, whining in pain. However, it goes unnoticed as the store clerk’s fearful eyes morph into a glare.

“Please refrain from any unnecessary activities on the floor.” His voice was ice cold, and he pointedly stared at your frozen frame until Kiri’s arms circled under yours, effectively pulling you up to help you climb out of the cart. As soon as your feet had hit the tile, the clerk was gone once more, his grumbling audible from the aisle next over. You glanced over at the red head, faces blank for a moment. Then, smiles bloomed on both of your lips, and you held your stomach as you giggled uncontrollably. “G-god, that was embarrassing.”

“But you had fun, right?”

You straightened up, noticing how Kiri’s smile had taken a softer tone as he stared at you. “Yeah, I did. Thanks, Kiri.” You had to urge to press a kiss to his cheek - friends did that, right? - and did so, pretending to ignore the fact that his face flushed red. “C’mon, let’s finish this list and head back before Bakugou blows us both up.”

You continue down the list, Kiri pushing the cart as you lead him through the store. During your hunt, the two of you go between other ingredients you could add that weren’t on the list. “What about hot sauce? Like, a really hot one?” He said, and your eyes lit up. 

“Oh my god! And what if we put it only in Bakugou’s bowl?”

“And Kaminari’s! Maybe Mina’s too, since she’s the one who wanted sukiyaki and couldn’t come get the stuff herself.”

“Jeez, that’s evil. I love it.”

Kiri laughed, and you felt your chest warm at the welcoming sound. “I’ll take all the blame too. Gotta protect my grocery store co-pilot, right?” He winked, then changed his attention to the next aisle where the cursed sauces laid. He grabbed what Bakugou had asked for first, then stood in front of the hottest sauces the store had to offer with a hand on his chin. He looked like he was in deep thought, and after staring at the shelves for a moment longer, turned to you. “What do you think is hotter, the bottle with four jalepenos, or the bottle with four flames?” He grabbed the two mentioned, turning them over in his hand as he read the labels before giving them to you. You scanned both quickly.

“Well, the one with the flames does say ‘Burning off taste buds since 1974’, so I think they’ve got the heat crafted pretty well.” You mused, handing both bottles back to your friend. He scrutinized them a bit more and shrugged. “Aye aye, captain!” He said, grinning once more as he placed the first bottle back in its rightful place, and its rival in the cart. “I think that’s almost everything, though! Just gotta grab the meat next. Man, I’m hungry…” Kiri continued to mumble as he pushed forward into the store, towards the cold section to nab the said item. Your heart sank; you were hungry as well, but a part of you wanted to keep hanging with Kiri one-on-one. It was fun. You were having fun.

However, it couldn’t last forever. 

“Did you find everything okay?” The store clerk’s voice was bland, eyes still narrowed at the two of you as he lazily scanned through the items you had gathered. It was the same man as earlier, who had caught you screaming down the aisles like a madwoman, and an embarrassed blush crosses your cheeks. Even Kiri looked a little guilty, but he tried to downplay it with a short chuckle. “Yeah, thanks! I like your watch, by the way!”

“… Thanks.”

Kiri puckered his lips in an attempt to stay silent, and you force yourself to fight down the giggle that threatened to rise. He looked like a duck, sort of; a red-haired duck. Or  a baby who had just tried a lemon for the first time. He caught your gaze with his own, eyes twinkling mischievously. The only sounds were the beeping from the register as it scanned through every item, and the low melody of the speakers playing overhead. The store clerk was muttering under his breath, and Kiri raised an eyebrow in your direction silently. “He seems upset. Wonder why.” He leaned in to whisper to you, breath tickling your ear. You grin, and quickly try to wipe the look away as the clerk glanced up at you. “Here’s your total.” He pointed to the electronic screen, and you scurried to pull the crumbled bills from your pocket, awkwardly handing them over. If looks could kill, the clerk would’ve been a murderer long ago, and you shrunk away from his gaze slightly. He moved his attention back to the register, grumbles growing in volume slightly, and Kiri pinched your side. “Jeez, be careful now (Y/N). We don’t want to get on his bad side.” You forced down the giggle, opting for a straight face as the employee hands back your change and receipt.

It isn’t until you and Kiri step outside that you two finally laughed; it’s full of hiccups and snorts, and you leaned against the wall until both of you calmed down. “I feel kind of bad for the guy.” Kiri says, and you wiped a stray tear from your eye. Looking down at your hands, you’re glad you hadn’t come alone; the bags really were heavy.

“I blame you! Hold the bags, co-pilot.”

Kiri dutifully does as you ask, grabbing the two plastic shopping bags from you and brushing his hands against your own. You felt a slight tingle from it, and drew back fairly quickly as you began to head back to the school. The wind has picked up, and as a gust sweeps by, you shiver. It doesn’t go by unnoticed. “Here, take this.” Kiri sets the bags to the ground and slips out of his coat, hanging it from his fingers. He’s looking at you expectedly, and you hesitate. “I can’t! It’s really not that cold out, I’ll be fine.”

“(Y/N), I can see the goosebumps on your arms. Just take it before I force you to.” The threat is empty, and shyly you smile as you accept the coat, slipping it around your frame. It’s big on you, not that you mind, and smells entirely of Kiri; of the musky cologne that he wore so often, and coconut shampoo. You snuggle deeper into its warmth. Kiri grabbed the bags once more. “Okay! Let’s hurry up, it’s cold!” He rushed forward before you had a chance to swat at his arm, chasing after him with a fist in the air as he laughed.

He finally slowed for you, and you continue to walk side-by-side with one another. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take a bag?”

“Of course not! How manly would I be if I let a lady carry the groceries?”

You snorted, but let the topic drift away as you look forward, lost in your thoughts. The day had gone so good, and you had been crushing on him for quite a while… Would it be a bad time to confess? If he didn’t feel the same, you knew Kiri would still try to preserve the friendship in some way or another. Just the thought of that made you wince, and you casted a glance at your companion. What you didn’t expect was to meet his amber gaze, but instead of turning away, you kept staring. And so did he.

He stopped walking, and opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it. He tried speaking again, to no avail, and instead sighed. “Man, this is harder than I thought.” He said, and laughed slightly after. His grip on the bags was tighter than before, knuckles turning pale as he averted his gaze for a second before returning his eyes to you. He took a deep breath, and patiently you waited. You felt like your heart was jumping out of your chest, but you waited nonetheless.

“It’s just… We should hurry home before it’s too late.”

Your heart deflated, and you hoped it didn’t show on your face. Instead, you opted for a short laugh, one that sounded pitiful to your own ears. “Ah, yeah… Good thing we’re close.” You turn back towards the path and step forward, silently cursing yourself for expecting something… different. What had you expected, really? A confession? You bit your tongue, dashing away the thought before it can fully form into something more.

The walk back is quieter than the walk to the store, and you try not to dwell on the fact too much. As soon as you enter the kitchen, you plastered on a smile. “We’re ba~ack!” You shouted, and Mina popped her head over the couch cushions. Most of your classmates had situated themselves in the living room, Bakugou included; although he looked pretty peeved.

“Oi, what took you so long? I thought I told you an hour!”

You rolled your eyes at the blonde, redirecting your gaze to Kiri as he sets the bags down on the dining table. You smiled at him. “Well, you shouldn’t have given us such a long list!” As you turned back to the living room, you motioned for Kiri to get into the kitchen, hoping he hadn’t forgotten about the hot sauce. Based on the gleam in his eyes, though, you guessed he hadn’t. “So get in the kitchen, Wench Bakugou!”

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Chef Wench Bakugou? Is that better?” He grumbled as he stood up, nearly shouldering you as he stalked into the kitchen. You jumped towards the seat he had left on the couch, and despite your happy expression, you noticed how Ochaco looked at you with worry. “Outta my way, shitty hair!” Soon after, Kiri was kicked out of the kitchen as well, grinning like a cheshire cat as he stumbled into the living room, collapsing beside his friends. Automatically, they fell into conversation, and Ochaco slid closer beside you.

“Hey, are you okay?” She kept her voice low, and you glanced at her from the corner of your eye with a sigh.

“Is it that obvious?”

“What happened?”

You sighed again, a bit louder this time, and slouched back into the cushions. “Can I tell you later? I’m just ready to eat and go to bed.” Ochaco nodded in understanding, looking over at Kiri for a thoughtful moment before switching the subject. “Since, you’re back, can you show me how to solve this equation? For some reason…” As Bakugou worked in the kitchen, you went back to helping your classmates with studying. You could feel someone’s eyes flick over to you every so often, but you chose to ignore looking up, instead focusing on the task at hand. Within the next hour, Bakugou’s familiar growling cut through the chatter, announcing that dinner was ready to be served.

You stood up at the same time as Kirishima, obviously having the same thought as the two of you grinned. “You did all the hard work, so let (Y/N) and I serve you!” A chorus of thanks resonated from the living room, and even Bakugou didn’t bat an eyelash as the two of you made your way into the kitchen.

“Jeez, they believed that pretty easily.” Kiri snickered, rounding the corner with the bottle of hot sauce in one hand. You didn’t as where he had hidden it; instead, you made your way to the cabinet, reaching up to pull down the glass bowls that resided there. However, it seemed as though someone had recently moved them, putting them on a shelf higher than usual. You stretched up on your toes, inches away from the dishes, mumbling softly about how short you were. Seconds later, there was pressure on your back as Kiri stood behind you, easily grabbing the wanted bowls from their place. Heat rose to your cheeks once more that evening, as you felt his chest press against your shoulders, crotch flush against your backside. If someone had walked in at that moment, they might have assumed that they had walked into something more inappropriate than a friend lending a helping hand. Automatically you froze, hand dropping and bracing itself on the countertop. You felt light-headed, and more so as Kiri pulled away and tugged you to turn around. He used his arms to trap you, placed on either side of your frame as he set down the few bowls he had grabbed and tilted his head down to stare at you. His eyes were burning, but with what you weren’t sure, and before you could decipher it he leaned in closer, lips hovering over your own up until-

You were the one to push forward, leaning further into Kiri as you kissed him, barely a brush of your lips, enjoying the little zap that ran through your body as you did so. He tensed up, as if unsure if he should follow in suit, but quickly made up his mind as he wrapped a hand around your waist, the other finding its way into your hair and tilting your head upwards. He pulled back for barely a moment, then he was kissing you more deeply, hungrily. His tongue ran over your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you granted. He was warm, and tasted funnily like marshmallows; a complete opposite of his quirk, really. Nevertheless you enjoyed it, and the only reason he pulled away was to take in a lungful of air, and as soon as your mouths disconnected you gasped for it. Your lips felt swollen, and in surprise you ghosted your fingers over them. Did that really just happen? You thought to yourself and, shyly, you glanced to Kiri under your eyelashes, gauging his reaction. His cheeks were dusted pink, lips bright as his chest rose rapidly. He looked just as shocked as you, eyes wide as he scanned over your face, eyes staring at your lips a moment too long. Then, he grinned.

“So… That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You automatically felt your heart stop, staring at his face and willing him to say more. Don’t say it was a mistake, you screamed to yourself. Don’t make me pretend to forget about it. That had been your first real kiss - you didn’t count the one from first grade, which was barely a peck before the victimized boy ran off screaming about cooties - but Kirishima’s words didn’t make it as special as you wanted it to be. Idly, you wondered if that was his first kiss too. If it was, you were greatly surprised. Kiri spoke again.

“I-I mean, not that it was bad! But I had wanted to confess first, maybe take you out on our first date before doing that. Or is the first date too soon? Is kissing a third date kind of thing? Everything is so different in the movies.” Kiri began to ramble, eyes darting around the kitchen to avoid your gaze. You stared at him silently, trying to digest his words, which spurred him on to continue talking. “I mean, I almost did it earlier, too! I was able to stop myself then, but you just looked so cute with your little smile, and it was cute that you couldn’t reach the top shelf so I helped you like they sometimes do in those shoujo mangas, but I didn’t expect you to lean forward and-” He finally stopped himself, eyes widening even more as he looked down at you in wonder. “And… and you leaned in, which means…” You could practically see the gears in his head churning, and before you could second guess your actions you grabbed his face with both of his hands.

“Which means I like you too.” You affirmed his thoughts, and if you thought his smile was bright before, the one that grew on his face at that moment was a lighthouse beacon. He didn’t hesitate to yank you into a fierce hug, and you grunted softly at the force but welcomed it anyway, tangling your arms behind his neck. You two sat like that for a bit, before Kiri’s shoulders tensed. “Crap, they’re probably wondering where their food is.” He muttered, and you laughed. You pressed a swift kiss to his smooth cheek, enjoying the way he blushed over the action, before pulling away for him. “C’mon, we’ve still got a plan to commence, co-pilot.” You teased, taking the bowls he had set on the counter and scooping a serving of sukiyaki into them. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Kiri quickly pulled the rest of the bowls down from the shelf, setting them all side-by-side with one another before grabbing the hot sauce. It was sealed tightly, and even the smell of it after being opened made your nostrils flare. Kiri laughed evilly. “Oh, would I!” He added a few drops to three of the bowls, mixing it into the broth and giving it a slightly darker color before looking at his work in satisfaction.

“Sorry for the wait!” You announced, swinging out of the kitchen with a bowl in each hand. At the sound of your voice, everyone made their way to sit at the tables, chattering in excitement. Kiri was holding four bowls in his arms, and he shot you a wink before handing them out and returning to the kitchen for more. “Here you go, Mina.” You said sweetly and, her being as trusting as she was, grabbed the food with a chirp of thanks. You and Kiri leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes trained on your victims; Kiri had untainted portions hidden behind his back for them after their suffering. Mina was the first one to eat from the tainted sukiyaki, and as soon as the first spoonful hit her tongue, her eyes were watering.

“Why is it so spicy?” She whined, fanning her tongue comedically with one hand as she coughed. Everyone looked at her in confusion, up until Kaminari started mirroring her. “Seriously! Baku-bro, c’mon!”

The blonde growled, his first bite of his meal still untaken. “What are you talking about, you damned Pikachu? I didn’t add shit to it.”

Midoriya reaffirmed everyone else’s thoughts. “Yeah, it tastes fine to the rest of us, right guys?”

“Shut up, you damned Deku!”

The green-haired boy shrunk back with a sheepish smile, all too familiar with Bakugou’s empty threats. You and Kiri exchanged a look, both of you quietly enjoying your own meals with hidden smiles. You knew Mina and Kaminari wouldn’t be able to handle the hot sauce, but Bakugou was different. He’d either love it or rage about it for the rest of the week. You bounced your knee in anticipation. He took his first bite, brows automatically furrowing together before- “What the fuck? It’s hotter than hell!”

You couldn’t hold back at that point, and started giggling like a little school girl, hand pressed against your mouth to try ceasing your guilt from escaping. Bakugou’s eyes automatically sought you out. “This was you two, wasn’t it?”

“Aw, no fair (Y/N)!” Mina squealed, jumping up and lightly slapping your arm. Her face was still red, eyes still watery, but she smiled nonetheless.

“Sorry, sorry.” Kiri said with a grin, hands raised like a caught criminal. “It was my idea.” He pulled out the bowl hidden behind his back, handing Mina and Kaminari the safe dinner portions with a chuckle. They took it with thanks, but Bakugou refused the bowl with a vicious grin. “Keep that baby shit! Only a real man could eat something this hot!” He barked, before shoveling a large portion into his mouth with a triumphant look. Kiri still and, after glancing at you only once, puffed out his chest.

“Oh yeah? Well I’m a real man too!”

You couldn’t stop him in time, only staring wide-eyed at your crush as he grabbed Kaminari’s uneaten bowl and took a bit bite from it. His face was frozen in its usual smile for only a second, before it crumbled. Cheeks bright, tears streamed down his face as he worked to swallow the concoction. “S-See? Easy!” His voice cracked, and not even you could hold down your laugh as you slapped Kiri on the back for a job well done.

“Don’t torture yourself, man!”

“Put down the poison, Kiri!”

The class cackled at the red-head’s reaction, but he didn’t seem to notice as he kept his eyes trained on you. He smiled, despite the tears that ran down his cheeks, and you grinned back before tangling your hand in his. Kiri didn’t need to act manly to win your heart; he already won it a long time ago.

If only a certain blonde didn’t ruin it with: “Hey, keep that romantic crap outta here, I’m eating!”

[for-ests]

Lost In Your Light: Peter Parker x Reader (Part 3)

Part 1 / Part 2

[ my masterlist ]

(ugh im sorry my blog was glitching so im re-uploading,, my apologies for everyone on my tag list this version will stay up so give it some love <3) 

CHAPTER 3: SWIMMING 

Like the many nights before, the once chaotic city was now silent.

Yet, something wasn't sitting right with Y/N as she crept between the shadows, her senses tingling, searching far and wide for a desperate soul.

Silent didn’t necessarily mean vacant, but for some odd reason the streets were deserted. The girl could not find anything, not a person crossing the street, not a pigeon with a broken wing. The telepathy link was cold.

Y/N sighed breathlessly, stopping in her tracks. She had been running around for over an hour, miles from home without a single interaction. Most times, she would only be outside for five minutes and she would sense something.

The air hung thick with an unfathomable dread, almost as if someone was watching her. Should she turn back now and try to get some sleep?

That was a good idea. She was tired and had school in the morning. For once, Queens seemed to be peaceful. These days were odd, but they happened every once in a while. 

Y/N’s eyes scanned the street, second guessing herself. Was she really alone? It was rare not to be. 

Shaking away her nerves when she was positive nobody was tagging her, the girl turned to head back home. She barely made it down the end of the street before her hands suddenly burst into a bright, golden light. It was so powerful that she could physically feel the heat surging through her veins. It stung, causing her to wince forcefully as she tried to locate the signal.

Pure sensory overload consumed her mind. 

Where was it coming from? Y/N could almost hear the screams of pain in her ears, the agony becoming too much to bear. It was as if she was there, it was like she could feel their souls connecting, the mending soon became the most satisfying one she'd ever felt.

The power seemed to bring her new life, and she was ready to share it with the person or animal in need. Y/N held her hands in the air, her arms shaking from the intensity.

She started to panic.

Where are you? She called out desperately. Tell me!

The answer never came.

The light illuminating across her skin started to fade. The heat radiating off her body cooled.

Just as fast as it had come, the healing touch was gone. And that meant whatever had called out to her was dead.

Her heart felt cold. Almost as frozen as the air.

She had failed.

Y/N hung her head low, clenching and un-clenching her fists, as if doing so would ignite the capability resting in her atoms.

Tears pricked along her eyelids. She hadn't cried since her mom died.

The memory of her mother made her feel just as empty and hollow.

The girl wiped her tears away, wondering what had just happened. That feeling was so beautiful. The glowing, the heat, the connection. She needed to feel it again. And now that it had disappeared, sadness and dread came flooding back. 

No. Not yet. 

Senses alert and eyes focused, Y/N bolted down the street. Tears streamed down her face, but she kept running. She needed to feel that power again. Whatever had happened was an unexplainable experience. She had to know more. Where did it come from?

Y/N kept running as fast as her legs allowed her. She passed multiple trashed lots and run-down houses. Not a single light shown through the abandoned buildings.

She kept running until the lights of Queens were a silhouette in the fog. The cement beneath her feet started to erode. Wider cracks criss-crossed through the pavement. She dodged potholes left and right.

Once she couldn't see in front of her, Y/N came to a stop. Her skin crawled.

Where was she? The girl blinked in confusion. She couldn't recall the last five minutes. It seemed like a blur. The girl pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked maps. Did she really just run another three miles out of town?

Fearful, Y/N stopped breathing. She tried to focus on the sounds around her.

It was complete silence. Not even the crickets were chirping. Her stomach wrenched. She was in the most dangerous part of town, the abandoned part of town. Whatever telepathic link caught her attention had unfortunately come from here. 

Y/N started to panic. Why did it seem like she was alone, yet feel like someone was watching her?

She took another step forward, soles crunching against the uneven payment.

And that's when a whimper echoed down the street. Y/N lifted her head in surprise, her senses erupting with a loud buzz.

She lurched forward with power, stumbling towards the sound. Y/N tried to keep her mending at bay. But she couldn't control it, the golden light starting to leak out of her fingers, floating into the air and swirling in the nighttime breeze.

The girl was in awe, eyes focused on her hands as they pulsed with light. What was happening? She had never felt this robust.

She clenched her fists and advanced forward. She wasn't going to fail this time.

Y/N ran to the end of the street, the power fluttering around her, lighting the way.

She stopped and listened to the sound again. A chain link fence stood in front of her. There was no grass from what she could see, only a sad looking dirt covered lawn. It was parched and littered with trash.

The change of atmosphere was odd. Usually she was in the heart of the city, where most of the abuse happened from public saturation. But now, she was in the middle of nowhere.

Y/N's eyes fell on the master lock a few feet away. She stepped towards it and held it in her hands. It was warm.

Her eyes drifted toward the house, and that's when she noticed a cigarette blunt laying on the ground, still burning.

A curse slipped through her lips. Y/N could feel the dog only yards away, waiting to be rescued. But she could also tell she wasn't alone with the animal. Someone was there.

She debated for only a second, then unhooked the lock from the gate.

It happened in a flash. Her hands were fiddling with the dog's collar before she even had the chance to look at it's face, before she even had the chance to stop herself. 

The sweet pit bull was laying on it's stomach, barely moving. Y/N held its face in her glowing hands and almost gasped. Deep lacerations were visible, covering her black muzzle.

"I’m so sorry.." Y/N empathized, brushing her fingers along the wounds and closing them immediately. After a moment of brief alertness, the pit bull relaxed in her arms. "That's it..." She cooed, checking the dog for any life threatening injuries. But she seemed fine, just thirsty and malnourished. She was in very bad shape. Was this what she had witnessed before? 

Y/N scooped the dog in her arms with ease. It worried her. She was so light, her condition making her useless for fighting. Why was she here? It was obviously a gang hideout. There was no other purpose.

And as if she jinxed it, the front porch lights flickered on.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There were rumors that the electricity on this side of town had been shut off, but apparently that wasn't the case.

The girl started to slowly take steps toward the gate. She kept her eyes locked on the door, her heart racing in anticipation.

And then it flew open, revealing the dog's abusers. Disgruntled middle-aged men, all of them extremely angry to see their dog clutched in a teenage girl's arms.

Y/N bolted. She didn't even look behind her. Though she was almost an adult, she was too naive to contemplate the consequences of her well-mannered actions. Not everyone was kind, not everyone would let something like this go-- because their businesses depended on it, their lives did. 

She had a head start, at least it was something. She was quick, but she knew she couldn't hold the distance forever, especially with a dog in her arms.

She heard the men shouting and cursing. She heard their feet scuffing against the pavement. All five of them were coming after her.

"Fuck.... fuck... fuck fuck fuck!" She gritted her teeth, rounding the block and running back towards the city.

The criminals were hot on her trail. She started to regret her decision as images of her bludgeoned body flashed through her mind. There was no way she could get out of this. She was already exhausted, and she didn't have much energy left, the dog weighing her already sore legs down. They were going to kill her...

Y/N was too panicked and terrified to cry. All she could think about was surviving. And it was her own damn fault.

"Help!" She screamed, voice hoarse from lack of water. Her throat burned with each cry for help. 

"Somebody please help me!" She pleaded, almost stumbling over her own two feet. The main road was closer now, but she still had a ways to go until the police station. She wasn't going to make it.

The pit bull in her arms stirred. It whined softly, as if it was urging the girl to continue. Panting coarsely, Y/N kept up the pace. But with each six steps she took, her pursuers took twelve. She was running out of gas.

She yelled again, this time with more familiar surroundings. She was on the edge of town. Someone had to be around, even this late in the evening. Anyone...

"HELP ME PLEASE!" Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs, the men right on her heels. She heaved hoarsely, shaking with each step she took.

The girl felt like she was running in slow motion. Each step took a great amount of force, but she managed to round an alley corner.

She couldn't move her legs after that. It felt like she was swimming, the air so thick it was if she was inhaling smoke. 

The men were faster, and they surrounded her with ease. Y/N gasped for air, her back touching the brick wall of an abandoned corner-side store, stopping her fully.

This time she got a better view of their faces. Some had beards, some did not. One had no hair. One was wearing sunglasses. They were all different races. There was no way she was going to remember every detail after they raped and beat her into a pulp.

"You stupid bitch." One of them snarled, flicking his switchblade menacingly. "Whatchu on about? You gotta problem with how we run things round here?"

The dog whimpered.

They seemed just as tired, all of them panting heavily with slumped shoulders. Y/N scanned her surroundings just like the time before, but she came up with nothing. Not a single advantage over her attackers.

The tallest man held open his jacket, revealing a pistol holstered on his belt. "We're gonna make this easy okay?"

"You're really going to threaten me with a gun?!" She teased out of nerves, backing even farther down the alley. "Why don't you at least fight me like a man?" The words flew out of her mouth before she could hold her tongue. Y/N had never been so scared in her life, but something about these men made her so angry. She wanted to fight them, and she wanted to win. This situation may be straight out of a nightmare, and her biggest fear; but she wouldn't go down without a fight. There had to be some way out of this, yet her options were stretching thin.

The gang advanced simultaneously. Her words had no effect on them.

"O-or you could leave me alone." She had to stiffen her posture to hide how badly her legs were shaking. 

The obvious leader opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped abruptly by another.

"Didn't you hear the lady?" A voice asked sarcastically. The voice was music to her ears. "Leave her alone!"

All five heads whipped around in annoyance. Y/N's eyes followed their lead, her jaw unhinging at the sight of a masked man.

He was suspending upside down by a clear thread.

Her heart almost stopped beating at the sight of Spider-Man. He was there to save her, like the many others before her. 

There was no way this was happening.

Y/N didn't feel so hopeless after all.

"What the hell?" The man with the gun whipped it out from underneath his jacket and pointed it at Spider-Man, recognizing the individual immediately. He pulled the trigger, sending an ear piercing sound through the alleyway.

Y/N stumbled backwards in shock. The dog yelped in pain.

She fell to the ground, her ears ringing. The girl blinked, eyes focusing on the scene unfolding in front of her.

Bodies flew left and right. She watched punch after punch, kick after kick, but each attempt seemed pathetic compared to the agile and skillful masked man.

As the ringing dissipated, she heard the sound of his sweet laugh. It was weird, out of place, but it seemed youthful and it calmed her down.

Her eyes fell upon the silver pistol, laying just inches from where she was cowering in fear. It kicked her into action.

Y/N set the dog on the ground and weakly picked up the gun. She pointed it at the last standing gang member.

But Spider-Man was faster. The girl watched his foot collide against the criminal's skull, sending him to the ground in less than a second.

Spider-Man turned to her and held up his hands.

She gave him a confused look.

"Can you set down the gun?"

Oh.

Y/N gulped and tossed it down the alley. It skidded against the pavement awkwardly. "I-I..." She stuttered, still exasperated that she was talking to him. He just saved her. This had to be a dream.

"Are you okay?" He asked, stepping closer cautiously.

She was safe.

Y/N blinked away tears, nodding her head furiously. "Y-yes..." She literally thought she was going to die, her heart still pounding in her chest. "Thank you so much... Spider-man." The words sounded so beguiling on her lips. She was very attracted to him, and she didn't even know what he looked like.

She stared at him, blushing like mad as she studied the way his muscles moved flawlessly with each movement. He was so graceful, truly a hero.

The dog limped out of the shadows, as if knowing the fight was over. She looked a little better than before. But Y/N still had some work to do.

"You saved us." Y/N whispered, gesturing to the dog. "Thank you so much."

Spider-Man nodded. He was silent for a moment, as if putting the pieces together. If anyone knew about gang crime, it should be him.

"Did you steal their dog?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and leaned down to pet the animal. "Maybe."

"Why?" He asked with a curious tone in his voice. He still hadn't moved.

"Someone had to do something. She was going to die." The girl ran her fingers along a cut on the dog's ear. The wound closed slowly, but Spider-Man didn't seem to notice.

"The dog looks fine to me."

"That's because I healed her." The girl huffed. Did she have to be obvious about it? Why else would she be out on the streets at 2am?

He laughed.

Y/N glared at him. "I'm serious."

"Then show me." He lifted his arm, revealing a deep gash across his torso. It looked like the bullet had grazed him.

The girl stood back up, accepting the challenge. His dialogue was playful and she was still tingling with power.

Spider-Man set his arm down, wincing. He could be hurt in other places too. He had just fought off five men, who were now lying unconscious on the ground. There was no way he came out of that without wounds. She was worried, but made sure to keep her emotions hidden.

"Where else are you hurt?" Y/N asked innocently, even though the indications were clear. His knuckles were bleeding.

He stepped towards her, closing the proximity between them.

Y/N's heart started to race again. She had never healed a human.

Spider-Man lifted his arm again, his face contorting with pain.

The suit had been torn open in multiple places, revealing his glistening white skin. She could feel his muscles underneath the fabric. He was toned beyond belief. She blushed, feeling his gaze on her as she hesitated.

Embarrassed, Y/N kept her eyes away from his, and focused on the texture of the suit. It was rough, but flexible. Only a genius could have made something like it.

She ran her fingers along it to find a seam, and she felt him shudder underneath her touch.

"How are you going to fix your suit?" She asked, ripping it open further to take a look at the whole wound.

"Hey!" He whispered-yelled, almost elbowing her in the face. "What are you doing?!"

"I need to look at the whole wound." Y/N rolled her eyes, pushing his arm back up. "Now stand still."

"I'm a little woozy." He breathed. "You better hurry up with whatever you can do."

The tone in his voice indicated that he still didn't believe her. How annoying.

And with that thought, she channeled the power from deep within.

Y/N gasped, the glowing yellow light seeping from her fingers, much easier than before. She hadn't even felt any pain.

She glanced up at Spider-Man as she worked. He was still, but watching. She couldn't see his reaction because of the mask. She wanted more than anything to pull it off.

She set her hand on his wound.

He flinched.

If fate was real, and controlled by a higher power, she believed they wanted this moment to happen. He was supposed to save her, and she was supposed to heal him.

Y/N's fingers ran across the lacerated edge, commanding it to close.

It did, and the blood flowed back into his body. She pulled her hand away with a smile, proud of her work. Actually, she was overwhelmed with joy, but she managed to hide it. Spider-Man already had to save her, she didn't want him to think she was crazy for being so excited. 

There was a slight indication of bruising, but otherwise, it looked like nothing had happened. There wasn't even a scar.

The girl stepped away, nodding triumphantly.

He stared at her hands as the glowing disappeared.

"Incredible." He whispered, touching the spot where the cut once was. All he ran his fingers across was soft skin.

She glanced at his hands. "May I?"

He nodded, fascinated by her power. His was by accident, but hers—this girl seemed to have been born with a gift.

And she was attractive. A literal angel if he could say it. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so, so powerful in a way he had never witnessed. 

Being in her presence made him feel dizzy, but that could also be from the loss of blood.

Y/N took his hands in hers. His hands were bigger, rougher, and much more masculine.

She smiled at him. And with ease, relieved him of his bruises. There was a moment of hesitation as she touched his skin. Y/N felt more powerful than ever, a new feeling pulsing through her veins. She felt like she was on fire in the best possible way.

The girl flipped over his palms in shock, just to get a better look at them. Her skin left his, but he didn't notice; he was too infatuated with the girl.

Spider-Man felt a burning sensation, but it was somehow comforting. How did she do it?

Y/N watched his movements closely. "Do you have any more wounds?" She tilted her head, awaiting his answer.

He couldn't speak.

"On your face?" She reached up, inches away from his mask. Spider-Man watched her lips, her tongue glossing over as she stared him down, intently and sensually. The boy’s eyes flickered down, and then up-

His spider senses flared loudly, snapping him out of the trance. His hands shot up and grasped hers.

Her eyes widened, but not in surprise. It seemed she had anticipated his actions.

"It's there for a reason." He warned. But the tone wasn't angry, it was gentle.

He released her, and added, "Thank you."

She grinned, unable to deny the excitement she was feeling. She felt alive. "I'm only giving you what you deserve."

The compliment sent his senses into a frenzy. He had to remind himself that he was in costume, this wasn't like school, this wasn't a silly crush. He had to hold an image in the suit, and he knew that if he spoke-- he would stutter. So to keep that from happening, he remained silent.

They stared at each other for a long time.

"My name is Y/N, by the way."

He turned to leave, but she was persistent.

"What's yours?"

Spider-Man looked over his shoulder. Her eyes twinkled under the dim lighting when he turned back to look at her. He had to admit Y/N was convincing.

But he knew she was different. She was just like him.

So for that advantage only, all emotional feelings aside, he told her.

"It’s Peter."

Her lips curved slightly at the edges. "Well Peter-" His name sounded like a spell when she spoke it. "I'll see you around."

✭✦✭✦✭

Tag list! comment if you want to be added! part 4 will be coming in the next few days

@spn-assemble-seven​ @eridanuswave​ @fallisflame​ @used-avocado​ @pluckypete​ @vanillanestor​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @wherewecomealive​ @magicalturmoil​

[iwritesickfic]

boy who cried flu

(yes I am aware of how stupid this title is leave me alone)

Peter rarely - if ever - got sick. Nobody who didn’t know him well would believe it though - he had a long track record of absences and missed assignments, despite being a 3.9 GPA student. He’s flaked from social events and parties countless times, always citing he’s not “feeling well.” It’s not technically a lie, though he does lie sometimes. 

People understand physical illness - they know what it feels like to be stuck in bed with a bad cold - but mental illness? Not so much. So...he bends the truth. A professor won’t be very forgiving if you say you spent all weekend in bed because you couldn’t find the motivation to move, but say you had a bad cough? No one bats an eye.

So most people assume Peter has an awful immune system. That or he’s just a pussy who won’t leave the house with so much as a sore throat. Everyone except a select few - Simon, Ashlynn, and Alex. 

Simon’d been his friend since undergrad, and they’d been roommates for a time, so he knows exactly what Peter means when he says he “doesn’t feel well.” Ashlynn is the type to show up unannounced with a quart of homemade soup. And Alex...Alex was there when things had gotten out of hand. 

But just because they knew he was lying when he said he was sick didn’t mean he stopped using it as an excuse. Ashlynn, despite herself, would usually not question it. Simon wouldn’t think twice about the lie, almost taking it as a direct confession. Alex would usually get pissed off and demand some kind of proof.

They were supposed to go to the beach tomorrow - get up early and take the train together to rockaway. But somehow, for the first time in years, Peter has something more than some congestion. Something way more.

It started a few days ago, a runny nose and swollen sinuses. He slept like shit, and the next morning his throat was raw and he absolutely could not breathe through his nose. But he had class, so he took the train in and sat in his lecture and tried to keep his sniffling to a minimum. By the time he was headed home, he’d long since run out of clean tissues, so he tends to his nose with a damp scrap of napkin he found buried in his bag, his nostrils red and irritated from the abuse. 

By the time he gets home, his congestion has gone from a clogged, static brick in his head to leaky, runny mess, but he’s well aware he can’t take a day off from work on his thesis, so he sits in bed working until 2 AM, one hand wiping the mess from his upper lip, the other scribbling notes in his worn out pad. 

He wakes the next morning not sure when he fell asleep, his head pounding heavily behind his eyes, sinuses throbbing and inflamed. His throat feels swollen and hot, and the relentless sneezing that started the night before isn’t helping any. The two days prior, everything seemed to be concentrated in his head, but now it’s clear it’s migrating into his chest as well. Halfway through his day at work in the library, he starts to cough, wet and harsh. 

It doesn’t help that his body aches like he ran a marathon, and chills are coursing through him like ice water in his veins. By the end of the day he can’t wait to finally sit down and rest. His body’s been screaming for it since the moment he got out of bed, and all day shelving books has really taken its toll.

Unfortunately, he’s got an hour long commute and lucky for him, it’s standing room only. He grips the subway pole like a lifeline, his head spins every time the train rocks. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the darkened window - he looks awful. Bags like bruises under his eyes that are rimmed in pink and half lidded, his nose irritated and red. A coughing fit tears through him, and he tries his best to catch it in his sleeve. His knees start to tremble as he tries to take deep breaths, and he’s startled when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“You wanna sit?” the woman asks, and it takes him a minute to realize she’s offering her seat. Normally, he’d suck it up, but he’s too miserable to refuse. He mumbles a thanks, and sinks down.

It takes all his self control not to fall asleep then and there.

By the time he’s back at his building, he’s seriously doubting he can climb four flights to get to the apartment. Part of him would rather just lay down in the lobby but he knows this is the final stretch before he can climb into bed and sleep.

He’s interrupted by several fits of coughs, and by the time he’s reached the fourth floor he’s practically gasping for air, and soaked in sweat. The chills he had all day have swapped with an oppressive heat that makes him feel almost lightheaded. 

Somehow, he’s quite sure, he manages to stumble to bed, stripping off his damp clothes, the cool air on his slick skin throwing him back into shaking chills. Just as he’s about to let himself be sucked into sleep, his eyes fly open. Tomorrow. 6 AM. He’s supposed to go to the beach. There is no fucking way he is going to the beach.

He texts their group chat with trembling fingers.

hey im real sick i cant go tomorrow

There’s an immediate reply from Alex.

don’t fuckin do this man. we’re going.

A text from Simon.

you’ll feel better if you leave the house, you always do.

He sighs, cursing himself for using this shitty excuse so much now no one will take him seriously.

im serious i feel like trash

Alex answers immediately.

PETER. youre not sick youre being a pussy. we’re going to the fucking beach and we’re having a good time.

Simon responds.

chill alex.

if youre depressed thats fine but maybe consider coming still it might help.

i mean i’d feel better if you came

Peter groans.

im sick. like sick sick. like flu sick.

Alex shoots back quickly.

ok then what are your symptoms?

Peter rubs his eyes, trying to relieve some of the throbbing. 

fever, chills, aches, cough, runny nose, headache, tired.

There’s a moment of silence and he places his phone on his bedside table with a sigh. He’s about to go under when his phone starts to buzz. Once. Twice. Three times. He swears, grabbing it. Three texts from Alex. The first is a screenshot of the symptom list that appears when you google “flu” which just happens to be in identical order.

you need to be more creative

seriously man im not letting you miss this. we planned this months ago. dont be a dick.

Finally, Ashlynn chimes in.

you dont need to lie p, its ok if you dont wanna come.

While Peter would like to further argue that he’s not in fact lying, he just doesn’t have the energy. At this point, it doesn’t matter what they think. He’s not going - who gives a shit why? He’s able to fall asleep almost immediately, but unfortunately, he doesn’t really stay asleep.

He wakes up about every 45 minutes, coughing or shivering or burning or all three. After his fourth or fifth jolt awake he can’t for the life of him seem to get any rest. Every time he’s about to drift off, another coughing fit explodes from his chest and leaves him trembling. He’s hot, but he’s not sweating, which he realizes vaguely must mean he’s dehydrated. As the night wears on and his condition continues to worsen, he wonders if he should call an uber to take him to the ER. He can’t afford it, not in the slightest, but he’s not sure he’s ever felt this terrible before. Somehow, he remembers there’s an old thermometer in the kitchen. An old roommate had bought it thinking it would work for deep frying but didn’t realize the range only spanned from 95 to 107.

He needs to take his temperature. See how serious this actually is. He can’t remember the last time he actually ran a fever, so he’s not sure if this is just par for the course or whether this level of misery is cause for alarm.

He stumbles into the kitchen, and for once he’s glad to live in such a god-awfully tiny studio. He lands heavily against the counter, and rummages through the drawer to find the small device. After what feels like an eternity, he manages to grab it with shaking hands, fumbling with the buttons for a moment before flipping on the small kitchen light. 

He sticks it under his tongue, it feels like ice. He tries to coach himself on what he’s going to do. If it’s over 100, he’ll go to the hospital. No, that’s too low. 102?Still maybe too ambitious of a goal. It’s then he realizes he’s really just trying to justify what he’s going to do anyway - save himself an ER bill and stay in bed. He’s jerked out of his thoughts when the small device beeps and he removes it carefully from under his tongue. 

The display flashes 103.2. He doesn’t really know what that means but after a quick google search it’s not exactly any clearer. It’s bad, but not bad enough to cause brain damage, supposedly. Fuck it, that’s good enough for him. He climbs shakily back into bed, the small excursion has left him absolutely exhausted. 

He needs medicine. He knows that. Some tylenol at the very least, but if he can barely walk to the kitchen he doesn’t know how in hell he’s getting out the door, down the stairs, to the pharmacy, and back again. So, he’ll just have to live with it. 

He spends the rest of the night in and out of half-sleep, each coughing fit seeming to drive the illness deeper into his lungs. His nose has started to run again, and each rub with the already-used tissue makes his poor sensitive nostrils burn in protest.

The next morning he wakes to the harsh, deafening drone of his apartment’s buzzer system. He cracks his eyes and checks the time. 6:42 AM. Whoever the fuck it is can wait, he’d like to suffer in peace. Still, as he tries to slip back into the sleep the buzzer continues to go off and after about five minutes, he sits up in bed, fighting the wave of dizziness that washes over him. He stumbles to the keypad and presses the button that opens the lobby door, and the buzzing finally - mercifully - ceases. 

He grabs a t shirt from a pile on the floor and pulls on a pair of boxers - he doesn’t know if he’d be able to stand anything more with the way his fever is raging. He sits on the edge of his bed, trying to catch his breath, quickly breaking down into another awful fit of coughs. Just as he’s finished, he hears a heavy knock on the door. Sighing, he forces himself up, padding slowly over to the door, trying not to aggravate the dizziness any further. He pulls open the door and is confused to see not an overzealous delivery person, but his three friends. 

He stares dumbly for a moment before a breath catches in his throat and he breaks into thick, wet coughs. He sniffles, wiping his nose with his wrist, before looking back up at them.

“What?” he mumbles, and there’s an awkward silence. 

“Shit,” Alex finally says and Peter sniffles.

“What do you want?” he repeats, surprised at the hoarse, broken quality of his voice. Does he really sound that bad? Ashlynn pushes forward, wrapping him in a tight hug. She’s short, so her face is pressed into his chest, and he stumbles back slightly.

“Oh Peter,” she whispers, and he swallows, closing his eyes. She pulls away, and he has to force them open again. She she presses a hand to his forehead. Her palm feels cool but uncomfortable against his oversensitive skin. “You’re burning up.”

“I know,” he murmurs, wishing the conversation could be over so he can go lie down and not have to explain himself to his friends. He sighs, and narrowly avoids another coughing fit. “Are you gonna come in or you just all gonna stand there?” They exchange looks. “Well?”

Ashlynn pushes past him, followed by Simon and finally Alex. Peter shuts the door and tries his best not to look as fucked up as he feels walking to sit in one of his kitchen chairs. 

“What do ya’ll want?” he asks Simon and Alex, Ashlynn already digging through the medicine cabinet.

“We don’t want anything we were just concerned,” Simon says.

“Then why do you look so fucking shocked?” Peter snaps, even though he knows Simon is only telling the truth.

“Because I was 100% sure you were bullshitting,” Alex says. Peter is far too tired to get into a verbal sparring match with Alex, but he tries halfheartedly anyway.

“Still sure?” before Alex can reply Ashlynn is back with a damp washcloth and the thermometer he’d used the night before. She lays the cloth on the back of his neck, and he can’t help the small whine that escapes. 

“Open,” she says, and he does. She places the thermometer under his tongue gingerly, and strokes some of his hair off his forehead. “You don’t have anything? For this?” Peter shakes his head. She presses her lips into a line. “Simon and me are gonna go out and grab some stuff, ok?”

“That’s not necessary.” His voice is almost slurred with the fever, and as if on cue the thermometer beeps. Ashlynn frowns at the reading. She shakes her head.

“Christ, Peter.” She touches his forehead again, this time with the back of her hand. “103.6 and it’s not necessary?”

“I don’wanna be lectured.”

“I’m not lecturing.” She spends another moment fussing with his hair before getting up, grabbing Simon. “We’re going to get some stuff, we’ll be back. Alex, make sure he doesn’t die, ok?” It’s clear Alex is about to protest, but Ashlynn levels him with a glare. They leave, and then it’s just Peter and Alex.

Alex stands by the door, hands in his pockets. It’s a while before either of them speaks.

“What was I supposed to think?” he finally says, and Peter tries to swallow his anger.

“I don’t know, man.” He runs a hand through his greasy, sweat damp hair. He starts to shiver again, wrapping his arms around his torso. Alex takes a careful step forward.

“You get why I wouldn’t believe you, right?”

“Yes, Alex.” The chills are now back in full force, he’s sure he must be shaking like a leaf. He wants nothing more than this conversation to be over, but Alex doesn’t seem to be getting to message.

“You never get sick. Ever. So what am I-”

“I get it. It’s fine. Just...stop talking. Please.” He’s shaking so bad he can feel his teeth chattering. He pulls his knees to his chest. He closes his eyes, praying something - anything - will warm him up. He hears footsteps and fumbling, then feels a dry, warm blanket being tucked around his shoulders. He looks up, and Alex is standing there, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Do you wanna lay down or something?” The thought of climbing back into his sweat damp sheets makes him cringe, so he shakes his head. “Why not?”

“S’gross, I sweat a ton.” 

Alex nods.

“Right. What about the couch? You can lay on the couch and I can do your laundry.” 

Getting horizontal sounds heavenly, so he nods, and Alex touches his shoulder, quickly pulling his hand back.

“What the fuck - dude, you’re like...on fire. Shit.” He tests the side of his neck and winces. “Fuck.”

“Can you just help me?” Peter is embarrassed at how small and sick his voice sounds, and the fact he’s asking Alex of all people for help, but he knows if he tries to do it on his own he’s going to fall and crack his skull.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He wraps an arm around Peter’s waist, and supports him the few feet to the couch. It’s not very far but his knees go weak about halfway there and he’s glad Alex is holding him. As soon as he gets onto the couch, he curls on his side and closes his eyes. “You’re ok?” Peter nods, and Alex pats his shoulder awkwardly. “Ok. Cool. Just...stay there, I guess.” Peter can hear him starting to strip the bed.

“I was maybe gonna go for a run,” he mumbles, and Alex laughs softly. 

“Definitely. Then I’ll enroll at NYU for my bachelor’s.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have all my debt.”

“You’re right. I’ve been trying to rack up some credit card bills but so far no luck.”

Peter opens his eyes to see Alex with the bundle of sheets in his arms and the bottle of detergent. He pauses for a second, shifting from foot to foot.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Peter swallows hard.

“I know man, it’s ok.” Alex smirks.

“Alright. Don’t die while I’m gone.”

[harryff]

Sensory Overload

Your relationship Harry was relatively new less than year, over 6 months. A revelation during one of your dates he was into BDSM, you responded with interest.  Harry was a patient Dom, with you he took his time to teach  you all you needed to know to be a sub in general followed by being his sub. You almost regret saying that you were ready for Harry to hold nothing back, to  have his way with you the next time.  

It started the usual way undress get on your knees, followed by laying on his lap for spanks, today he bent you over to eat you from the back and when he felt that you were wet enough he added his fingers into the mix, you whimper and whine which resulted in more slaps to the ass telling you to be louder. You had been a bratty little sub earlier so instead of giving you what you wanted, he expected you to beg for it, make it up to him, and be a whimpering mess so he could have total control. 

Somewhere during the process your mouth is around his cock you don’t even remember getting back on your knees but here you are, deep throating the hell out of Harry. Hand in hair guiding you to his pace. Utters of ‘good girl’ escape his mouth often as his head tilts back. His groans and moans make you even more wet. There was nothing like hearing him express himself during pleasure.  The next thing you know you’re on your back and things were going good. Deep inside you teasing you bringing you to the edge then slowing down you were a blubbering mess. Until you felt the cold leather collar around your neck.

“Gotta teach yeh a lesson pet” he explains noticing your reaction. “Im sorry daddy” you apologize while you hold your legs apart as a good subby He leans down to kiss you before he straightens up,  his hand on the collar, he slips his fingers between  and pushes his cock deeper into you. He picks up his pace you feel an orgasm building once again. You moan in pleasure then there was the slap to the face. You’re on the verge of cumming but it takes you by surprise your hair is on your face so its not like Harry can really see your expression. He turns your face to the other side followed by another smack.

“Tell daddy you’re sorry” you can tell he’s reaching his climax too, but you can’t cum not until he tells you to. One time he didn’t let you so you’re hoping this was different “Im sorry daddy!” You scream it was all too much “Louder!” there was the third and final slap to the face “Sorry Daddy!” “Good girl cum on cum for daddy” and without a second to spare you release the fire burning in the pit of your stomach.

-

You wake up the next day next to Harry. Weren’t you supposed to discuss your experience post play? You didn’t even remember falling asleep. Harry was still asleep mouth ajar. You get out of bed and as expected your legs needed adjustment time. You drag yourself to the bathroom walk over to the toilet and pee, stand up to wash your hands when you glance at yourself in the mirror, your hands find themselves on your cheek why were they sore? You see a bruise on your neck and it hits you! You automatically tense up. Is this what it meant to be Harry’s sub? Before you delve deep into overthinking you shower. It feels like it brought you back to life. Although your hands couldn’t stay away from your face or neck.

Its not like the impact from the slaps were harsh or the neck too tight but they were also a shock to your body and had you not been submersed in sub mentality you would have shut it down. You examine your body, triggering memories of last night, the bruises were expected, but the slap, did you even like it? You walk into the room to find Harry already awake playing on his phone you smile and continue to walk into the closet.

“Yeh didn’t want to shower with me?” he asks sleep still laced in his voice, he pulls you into him and wraps his arms around you  It shocks you, you were busy looking for a bottom to wear “oh no its not that you were sleeping” He was back to being his usual Harry not Dom harry He smiles and kisses your forehead “jus teasin let me go wash m’ass then” You blow him a kiss as he walks away.. -

The rest of the day goes without a hitch you also forget about the collar and slaps until you’re surrounded by Harry’s friends. A little get together and you were fine but the necklace Harry put around your neck was starting to irritate you. You play around with it swiveling it from side to side, but that wasn’t helping. You abruptly excuse yourself when it becomes too much and rush to the bathroom.

You take off the necklace and your hands shake you can’t help but scratch at your neck. It felt like the collar even though it wasn’t. It was lose and had a pendant on it. 

You take several deep breaths this shouldn’t be a big deal. You know Harry meant no harm or ill intent. It was sensory overload last night. You didn’t have enough time to process the slaps nor the collar. When you look in the mirror you swear you can see the bruise from the collar even though you covered it with make up. Those damn slaps they were good? Bad? What were they? You need to cry so you bargain with yourself a little bit then you clean yourself up. When you finish you fan yourself and then smile at yourself in the mirror to see if it was convincing enough, you agonize over putting the necklace on but you do.

Before you can finish there’s a knock “Pet yeh alright?” you hear his voice Damn this man you think to yourself before you open the door “yea! I just had to pee” you go to brush past him but he’s posted on the door frame smirking “what?” you ask looking at yourself He shakes his head and takes a step forward “Yeh look beautiful pet” he compliments “Oh thanks we should probably go back” He reaches over and brushes your hair away. He wanted to see all of you and he did along with the scratches on your neck “yeh okay? whats wrong?” he asks reaching for your neck with both hands gently, concerned, examining the damage “having an allergic reaction?” “No it was just itchy” He looks at you with disbelief you’ve worn this necklace before it wasn’t itchy then. “Come on!” he says grabbing your hand

Without a word from you he excuses both of you from the get together. Your drive to his place is silent you’re nervous. Was he mad at you? Should you say something? This isn’t like the many times you decided to be bratty and he got mad this was different. You follow him into his home and watch as he gets ice cream from the freezer. He remembers that being your comfort food. He makes it just the way you like it. Gently he places the bowl down in front of you. It wasn’t fair he could read you like a book.

“Need yeh to talk to me” “Uh….” you go to scratch your neck and Harry reaches over to stop you before reaching around and removing the necklace “S alright we are supposed to talk about these things remember?” he rubs his thumb over your hand You look up to the ceiling and draw in a deep breath before you blow it out as tears form in your eyes. Truth be told you were afraid, afraid he would drop you and get another sub, one who wasn’t so weak minded. It was just a few silly slaps.

“Pet” he calls to you, gently he grabs your cheeks making you look at him. He knew you all to well you were getting too caught up in your head. “Its just me yea? I wanna know whats wrong” “Why’d you slap me?” you blurt out you wanted it to be a more controlled delivery but it was not. Shaky voice and all “It wasn’t supposed to be punishment pet I just wanted to awaken other senses in your body” he explains knowing where you were going with this You eat a spoonful of ice cream to calm you down before you respond. “No I know that…. but why? Is it something you like to do? Slap during sex?” “Did yeh not like it?” You pause and take in another deep breath “I don’t know it was like I couldn’t even process then the damn collar” “Why didn’t yeh say the safe word? We agreed!” “I know we did…I said don’t hold back I was trying to be strong for you Harry” “But yeh don’t have to remember? Yeh don’t need to be strong for me” You sigh and eat another spoonful “we should have talked yesterday” “Tried to pet, but yeh were knocked out cold by the time I came back with the rag” “It was too much” you comment staring into his eyes “In a good way? or bad?” now he’s nervous. Nervous that you might think he was asking a lot of you “It was good Harry it really was I just didn’t think a slap to the face was one of your kinks” you shrug  “it just threw me off but i was on the verge of cumming and i wanted to cum so badly i don’t know”  “If yeh don’t like it pet I won’t do it” “No I don’t want you to think im complaining” “I don’t. Did I hit too hard?” he didn’t think he did. He has hit much harder in the past with past subs  “No it’s the hit itself” He feels embarrassed he should have known you weren’t ready with all the other subs he knew what they could handle. You were very confident in telling him to do all he wanted, which last night wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg “……..do you like the collar?” You snap him back to your conversation “yea I do actually” “Doesn’t it make you feel like you’re degrading me? Like a dog or something?”  “No collar play for me is all about total control over yeh but if yeh don’t like it… i don’t want yeh to feel like im degrading yeh” “Maybe not that for now I prefer your hands better”

He takes in a deep breath and releases slowly “Lets just table these things and revisit yea?” you reason with him you could tell he was becoming stressed He nods in agreeance “Sorry I guess I wasn’t ready for all of you after all. I should have known better” “No pet its okay come here”  He says pulling you into his lap “I care about yeh a lot. I want yeh to be just as happy if not more when yeh’re with me n think of me”