#he does that every time he gets a message from Pat

[everybodyshusband]

teaching a skill

mushy may ; day twenty two !! (approx. 860 words)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

Aeon flops down dramatically onto the couch, only narrowly avoiding clocking his head on Mountain’s blanket-covered hip bone. “I’m so bored.”

Mountain hums. “Want to sit with me and read, bug? You can come under the blanket with me,” he sing-songs.

“Nooo,” Aeon moans. “I’m so hungry I can’t focus on anything which makes me bored but I can’t do anything because I’m hungry.” He glances up at Mountain and whacks his shoulder when he sees the earth ghoul smirking. “Don’t laugh at me, Mounty, I’m dying.”

Mountain sighs and puts his book down. “You wanna help me cook something then? I was going to make brownies later but I can make them now to give you something to snack on.”

“Please!” Aeon practically yells. “I’m gonna starve to death…”

“Come on. Up you get, buggy.” Mountain stands up and holds his hands out, pulling Aeon to his feet and leading him over to the kitchen. Aeon stands and watches as Mountain opens up drawers and cupboards, pulling out bowls, measuring cups, assorted ingredients and his old beat-up recipe book. “Alright, all we have to do is follow this recipe and then in about an hour, we’ll have some delicious brownies for you to eat. Are you ready?”

Aeon nods but… “I’ve never baked anything before, I– I don’t really know how to do it.”

“Hey, that’s alright,” Mountain assures him. “I’ll help you. I’ll set up the scales for you while you have a flick through the book and find the brownie recipe. I’ll be under the sweets category.”

Aeon shoots him a thumbs up and picks up the book. It’s one that Mountain has compiled himself from magazine cutouts and handwritten recipes, some passed down from the ghouls that came before him and some new creations from the earth ghoul’s own mind. By the time he’s located the brownie recipe, Mountain has set up the scales and is already beginning to measure out the flour; it’s no surprise to Aeon that Mountain remembers the measurements by heart, brownies are a once a week occurrence at least in their pack.

“Ah, perfect, thanks, Ae. Do you want to take over from here? I’ll be here helping the whole time.”

Aeon nods. “Yeah, sure. Thank you, Mounty.”

He gets a pat on the back and a kiss on the top of his head in response. “You’re welcome, bug. Now c’mon, Dew messaged and asked if I could make him something to eat. Lazy bastard doesn’t want to lift a finger and bake them himself even after I told him he could do it himself if he wanted them that badly.” Aeon turns to Mountain, eyebrow raised. “Fine,” the earth ghoul relents. “I said I’d be happy to and that I love him very much and did he want sprinkles and melted chocolate on his brownies?”

Aeon snorts. “That’s more like it,” he laughs. “I was getting worried for a second there, Mount.”

From there, the time passes quickly. Mountain jumps in to help or give advice whenever the quintessence ghoul asks for it, but for the most part, Aeon is doing well without too much guidance. The only real trouble comes when it’s time to decorate them; Aeon has no idea how to do that without messing up all his hard work by making them look atrocious.

“That’s half the fun,” Mountain argues. “Plus it’s endearing if they look a bit shit, and personally I think they taste better if they don’t look all fancy,” he confesses. “We’re only dripping on melted chocolate, you’ll be fine, I promise. Here, watch me do the first tray and you can copy that for the second, yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, Mount.” Aeon watches intently as Mountain dips his spoon in the melted chocolate and picks up a decent amount of tempered chocolate on the end of it. The earth ghoul spins it around to stop the chocolate from dripping and Aeon is surprised that when Mountain reaches the tray of brownies he just… goes for it. The chocolate drips every which way and covers the brownies in a messy drizzle that Aeon can’t deny looks absolutely delicious. When it’s his turn, he does the same, opting for a slightly more uniform pattern than Mountain’s but the earth ghoul assures him the slab still looks more than edible. The two of them take it in turns with the container of sprinkles, covering their squares in the colourful blobs.

They cut the trays into brownie-sized pieces and compile both batches into one big container, making sure to set some aside for the two of them—and Dew. At a nod from Mountain, Aeon grabs one out of the container and takes a big bite, eyes widening in delight at the flavour. “I made that,” he says with his mouth still full. “I made that and it tastes so good!”

Mountain grins taking a bite of his own brownie “Yeah you did! It’s really good, well done!”

Aeon smiles widely, stuffing the rest of the brownie into his mouth gleefully. “We gotta go find Dew,” he urges. “I wanna go brag that I can cook and he can’t!”

#mushy may #day twenty two !! #aeon ghoul #mountain ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #husband ficlets

[webslingingslasher]

Begin Again

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

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

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

Word Count: 24K

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

Breakups suck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you have a lighter?” 

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

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

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

A supercut of every moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort, “for breaking my heart?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Six weeks, starting today.” 

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

“Six weeks.” 

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

WEEK ONE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleepy?” 

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

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

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

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

“Do me a favor?” 

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

“Make sure he gets home for me.” 

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

The birds were screaming the earth back awake. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I think… I think I’m doing okay.” 

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

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

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

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

“Noon thirty.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever-” 

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

“Who’s-” 

“Did you-” 

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

“What do you want, penis?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that Peter B. Parker?” 

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

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

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

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

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

She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever. 

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

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

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

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

Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good. 

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

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

Deny till death. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natalie Greene knows three things to be true. 

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

“What if you talked to him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK TWO.

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

“How are you doing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was it. 

This was your worst nightmare. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I, um, I still have those cookies?” 

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

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

Tonight, you were full of surprises. 

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

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

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

You do a double take, five months? 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Harder,” you test it. 

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

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

“Harder, don’t be so weak!”

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

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

“Fucking!” 

“Piece!”

“Of!”

“Shit!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re looking at me funny.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you find yourself agreeing. 

“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK THREE.

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

“Let’s fuck some shit up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered. 

“Hi, May. Is Peter home?” 

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t think you could ever love again. 

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

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

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

Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock. 

“I’m sure.” Because, you really are. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would send you things he found funny. 

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

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

‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’ 

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

“Have fun on the trip!” 

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

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

“Hi.” 

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

“Okay, okay, so what did she say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a good thing?” 

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

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

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

“And very nice curls.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are you doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, wow!” 

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

Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!  

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

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

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

Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-

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

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

“Are you gonna hide from me forever?” 

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

He’s perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk. 

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

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

“Butter, please?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? I thought after-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scars don’t.” 

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

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

“They do.” 

WEEK FOUR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re in denial.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

How long has he liked you? 

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

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

“But was it worth it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t is a funny word choice.” 

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

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

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

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

“Break up with me.” 

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

A laugh, “then break up with me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you see where I’m sitting?” 

Peter nods, “I do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has a very fair point. 

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

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

“How do you know I don’t want this?” 

“Because this isn’t you.” 

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

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

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

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

“You mean when you had a boyfriend?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would it feel like an agonizing death? 

Would your wings ever be patchable again? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Peter’s fault. 

“Because you made me want to.” 

WEEK FIVE. 

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

“Good morning.” 

You nod your head, “penis.” 

And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed. 

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

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

3:02, you hear his window. 

3:04, your eyes finally get heavy. 

3:07, you’re dozing off. 

3:10, you’re asleep. 

It wasn’t fair. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peter.” You need his focus on you.

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

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

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

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

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

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

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

“You passed out on me last night.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfect, coming right up.” 

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

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?” 

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

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

“Guess we’re twinsies now.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” 

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

“Sure. Go shopping for me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK SIX.

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

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

You think you broke him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, when she puts it like that… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he stumbled up the steps. 

When he hit his head with his locker.

When he stepped on his glasses. 

When he was tackled in flag football. 

When he tripped over his shoelace. 

When he got glue in his hair. 

When he winced while dissecting a frog. 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s worth it. 

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

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

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

Step two: See above. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this an asshole move? Yes. 

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

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

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

You hear something drop inside his apartment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?” 

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

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

“Did you just call me a normy?” 

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

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

But it’s all in the timing. 

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

“Miserable? What, about the breakup?” 

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

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

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

You’re in love with Peter and only Peter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still like me?” 

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

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

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

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

“Can you call me sweetheart?” 

“Is that the one you like?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

It’s so much sweeter than you imagined. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said I was never properly loved.” 

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

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

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

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

“If you’d be my boyfriend.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies. 

Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies. 

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

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

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

“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.” 

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

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

“I don’t hate you anymore.” 

“Spoiler alert, you never did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

And you watched love begin again. 

“Anything for you, girlfriend.” 

----

TAGLIST: (some @'s wouldn't show up :(

@hollandweather @imwaytoolazyforthis @sincericida @darling-im-wonderstruck @abucketofweird @conniesanchor @ellieistired @melodicheauxxlovesfood @nyomjoon @buckybarnessweetheart @luqueam @hyacinthhare @prettiest-lover @jakobsdump @vanessa-b @toomanydamfandoms @jamespottersdaisy @sassyrizznerd @arctic0tter @thievin-stealing @cool-ontherun-world @gwengonesplat @sunflowerkiwis @iamawhoreforu @cottonheadedninny-muggins @toezies @1-800-peggy @lnmp89 @ribbonknives @sinceweremutual @luerdelune @pining-and-tired @gorefairies @str4wberry222 @hoetel-manager @rexorangecounty @ellswilliams @peterparkerswhvre @kdbsr-h @astrxq @eatshitanddie- @somethings-going-on-here @m0g444 @oncasette @rainyyouthcoffee @azkzaban @know-its-for-the-better @hellfirescoops

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter smut #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #my writing

[cofigelly]

ೀ SIX EYES

——————————————————————————pairing; college au!gojo satoru x reader

synopsis; you couldn’t help but notice a pair of wandering eyes during your 10am lecture

word count; ~2k words

contents; sfw, f!reader, no curses au, rich college student gojo, cocky/playful gojo, six eye/infinity references

notes; THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LIL DRABBLE IDK WHAT HAPPENED? i <3 run ons and sentence fragments apparently

——————————————————————————

the first thing you noticed about him were his eyes.

well, technically, his eyes noticed you first.

in the midst of your monday 10am lecture (known for its lengthy, soul-wrenching talks about finance), you felt his sharp gaze pierce straight into your soul. it was a brief, quick glance — but it was an intentional glance, nonetheless.

you simply brushed it off. it must’ve been him zoning out, or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. that was until you caught him repeating the same habit again. and again. over the course of the next three weeks.

that same, hungry gaze, taking in every intricacy of your features. a look that felt like it set your entire body on fire, despite the icy blue hue his pupils reflected each time you returned a glance. his stare would only last a few seconds at most, but something about it felt so intense, so overbearing— it made hold your breath each time.

in all honesty, you didn't mind the attention. in fact, you kind of reveled in it — a handsome, 6'3 guy always ogling at you every lecture. it even had you thinking that maybe he was into you?

but that was at first. as more weeks passed, the more your ego shrank. 'is there something on my face,' you wondered, patting at your cheeks to search for some sort of makeup residue or food crumb, 'do i look stupid?' the large, echoey lecture hall felt evermore revealing as you struggled to find a way to shrink into your plastic-clad seat. but you couldn't hide, not from a stare like that.

paranoia getting the best of you, you slide your phone out of your pocket as you send a hasty text to your best friend, “bro who is this guy? he keeps staring at me EVERY lecture,” you send a 0.5x photo, clearly taken from afar.

just as quickly, your friend responds, “NO FUCKIN WAY is that gojo???” “who the fuck is gojo?”

you could almost feel her attitude burst through the text bubbles, “bro… GOJO. his family is literally loaded?? did you not see his dad surpass bill gates on the global ranking of billionaires?” that text takes you a little by surprise, alternating your eyes between him and the message upon your screen. “okay maybe it’s starting to sound familiar, but still. what’s he doing cosplaying as a broke college kid in my finance class?” you sigh as you continue to tap on your screen, “idgaf that he’s loaded it’s pissing me off that he’s staring at me like 🧿🫦🧿 every lecture.”

your friend reacts with a quick “haha” to your text before responding, “idk man maybe you just caught the attention of the richest guy on campus ;)”

you decided you’ve had enough after reading that text. you’re not about to feed your delusions this early on a monday morning. you’ll admit, he’s a good —no, stunning— looking guy, but you have no time to babysit a boy who was never taught that staring was rude. not to mention, this boy isn't even in the same tax bracket as you. 

brushing it off yet another time, you let out a deep sigh as you flip the page, copying your professor’s notes on the board.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a whole month has passed and this gojo guy is growing more and more cocky with his stolen glances. he's not even trying to hide it anymore.

this fateful wednesday, as you walk into class, he immediately locks onto you. his bright blue orbs follow you from the door to your row, not releasing his gaze in the slightest after you settle into your seat. your grit your teeth in annoyance as you flip through your notebook pages. who does this guy think he is? it’s been a month and he hasn’t even procured the balls to say a single word to you. yet, he’s feasting on you like you’re his final meal on death row. 

the second the class is excused, you immediately beeline towards his seat — stopping in front of his leaning frame while he packs his bag. “dude, what the hell is your problem,” scowling at him as you approach, “i’ve seen you stare at me for weeks now and it’s getting straight creepy."

his ears perk at the sound of your voice, haphazardly zipping up the final pocket of his backpack. when he looks up, his eyes glint with a hint of mischief as he scrunches his nose in a grin — a grin that’s somehow even cockier than his stare.

“i’m just taking in the view, princess,” he jeers, delight in his tone. 

you stare at him incredulously as you take his confession in. so he really has been staring at you? “for one, i’m not your princess," you scoff at his clear disregard of your concern, "second, you might want to think again before you decide to stare at me one more damn time.”

he hums amusingly, shaking his foot in a steady rhythm, “you’re right. i might think about it again.” his grin is even wider now, “why, what are you going to do about it?”

“—look, i don’t know what you’re getting at,” your eyebrows furrow deeper, “but if you keep this shit up, this won’t be the last time you hear from me.”

briskly, you swing around, completely ignoring his bickers as you head straight out the hallway door. 

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

to gojo, everything you said on wednesday was music to his ears.

he strolled into the next lecture, on monday, with the same shit-eating grin on his face. ‘this wont be the last time he hears from you?' god, he hopes that was true. it made him wonder why he didn’t just stare at you harder in the first place.

everything about you captivated gojo satoru.

from the first day of lecture, he was already mesmerized — by the wafting scent of your cologne as you walked past his row, the way your head cocked to the side whenever you thought through a problem set, the distant clicks as you tapped the end of your pencil against your arm nervously.

he simply couldn’t help but steal that initial glance. he also couldn’t help but steal another one the lecture after.

and another. and another.

he knew he was getting ahead of himself, being so selfish with his dangerous stares, but you just had that effect on him. an effect that he's never experienced with anyone else. he bit back his pride when he couldn’t even approach you first, as he normally did with his prior interests.

there was just something so serene, so heavenly about you. he almost wanted to leave you undisturbed, opting to observe you from afar — not wanting to disrupt his delicate masterpiece from behind the red rope at the museum.

but the day you approached him changed everything. ‘how can someone so innocent have such a mouth on her,’ he chuckles to himself, taking his ipad and apple pencil out of his backpack before laying them flat on the table.

you were completely unlike his initial impression of you, much to his amusement. he prefers it this way —actually— he likes a girl who has a bit of a bite. besides, he finally has an excuse to talk to you and do what he knows best: get under your skin. metaphorically (and literally).

he glances at the door as he hears the familiar clanking of your keychain against your water bottle, more excited for the lecture than he's ever been before.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

there is no fucking way.

gojo satoru is now sitting in the seat directly next to your unassigned assigned seat in this 300-person lecture hall. the entire classroom is almost packed too. how early did he have to be to even get that seat? why is he in that seat? your thoughts are cut off as he waves his hand at you, muttering a short "yoohoo~," ushering you to sit next to him.

hell no. you still have no idea what he's playing at. is he stalking you? does he have some sort of ulterior motive? what if his scary billionaire family kills you, a dirty plebeian, for sitting so close to their perfect, trust fund baby?

you immediately switch gears, practically running away to find a new seat, catching a glimpse of his pout in the corner of your eye. you ignore him and situate yourself in the very front row, directly in front of the professor's podium. you let out a deep exhale as you unpack your notebook when you hear a loud shuffle next to you.

this guy has no shame.

gojo, in all his glory, happily claims the empty seat next to you —unloading the entire apple store (or so it feels like) onto the desk. "good choice, doll. more leg room up here," he stretches his long, lanky legs before crossing them — making sure his knee briefly makes contact with yours.

"are you serious right now— bro your entire apple ecosystem is getting onto my side of the desk," you scowl at him once again as you shove his macbook closer to him. "serious about what?" he mocks, that signature smile gleaming down on you.

"whatever this is? are you obsessed with me or something," you mutter the last part under your breath, but he takes note of you rolling your eyes at him. "hmmm," he taps his chin all philosophically, "if anything you're the one obsessed with me."

wow, this guy really is insane. you felt your eyebrow twitch in anger as you jerked your head up, "me obsessed with you? how does that even make any sense—" "you said you noticed me staring for weeks," he muses, still looking straight at you, "but you don't think i noticed you staring back?"

you scoff, "i was simply just returning your gaze; not everything is about you!” “untrue.”

after refusing to make eye contact, you finally meet his eyes. "i'm not gonna play this damn game with you, look—"

you've never seen him this close before. you've never seen anyone this close before, really. in this cramped lecture hall, with its seats compressed like sardines, it felt like he was only mere millimeters away from you. your breath hitched as the air seemed palpable, heavy. he was so close, but it felt like he was untouchable — almost as if an infinite void was cast between you two.

for the first time, he dropped that condescending smirk. he dropped the facade altogether. beyond the icy blue hues, his eyes glistened a shade that he only shows to you, a shade you've never noticed in all those times you two locked eyes. they were powdery blue — the same softness as the edges of the clouds in the sky or the frothy, tidal waves lightly crashing against the beach sand.

it made you wonder if it was physically possible for one person to hold so much power in just their eyes. a power that felt like three whole people, six eyes-worth, were constantly peering into every fiber of your being. except this time, it was intense in a whole different way, completely unlike before. the closest feeling you could think of was a warm oven, fresh after a batch of cookies — an inexplicable warmth in contrast to his icy appearance.

lost in each others' eyes, he parts his lips as if to finally say something—

"i would really appreciate if you two kept your eyes on the board instead of on each other," a voice boomed from the podium in front of you.

you both tense up, quickly spinning your bodies around to face the front as the snickers began to fill the classroom. you completely forgot about how close you were sitting to the professor.

you felt a tinge of heat start on your cheeks, creeping its way up onto the cartilage of your ears. the embarrassment was more than enough to shut you both up for the rest of the period, but you knew.

you knew you wanted to feel this way again.

——————————————————————————

final notes; i wrote this in my actual lecture hall instead of taking notes guys😎😎 (i am severely ill)

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagines #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[hanasnx]

oh pornstar ani how i’ve missed you

what do u think he’d be like with a virgin? do u think he’d like it or would he rather be with someone more experienced?

-🎀

MINORS DNI 18+

ADULTFILM!ANAKIN SKYWALKER prefers someone more experienced. There’s a frailty to a virgin that's difficult to get around, and since he’s impatient and far from a teacher, he doesn’t want to have to drag someone through the process. There's a lot of messiness that can come with being someone's first. Someone with experience can bring a lot of unspoken trust, professionalism, and conversation to the table which helps blend the pair together. Especially because Anakin has a nasty habit of taking things too far, he needs someone with the ability to say no in the moment before he gets carried away. It’s not that he hates virgins, dislikes them, or thinks they’re useless, he just prefers experienced co-stars.

However, there’s been an exception: you, a virgin porn-star. You’ve been laughed at in this industry, endlessly and you’ve learned to take the joke. A virgin porn-star sounds like an oxymoron if you've ever heard one. You do at-home stuff from the safety of your own camera and PC, stuff with anal beads and dildos you order off Bad Dragon. A live show occurs every so often. Of course you’re not an expert, but that’s the point. Your whole schtick online is that you’re clueless to angles, and performances.

Your comment section is a slew of dudes asking invasive questions. Do you have a boyfriend, are you waiting for your wedding day, does he know you do this depraved shit late at night for strangers to thirst over? Do you know that you're a minority here, that you'll never get farther than a glorified over-rated amateur? When will you lose your virginity and just get over with? But they're the same guys that jack off to your virtuous pussy on full display to the camera you bought with the money you made off this demographic.

No, you've never had a boyfriend, but that doesn't mean you can't explore yourself... Besides, you think it's fun that guys clamber to beg to be your first. One comment in particular had you thinking real hard. "You should film me fucking that pretty pussy for the first time... that'll get you a lot of views." When you'd started this account, you were sure you would've lost your virginity in the traditional way. Meet a great guy, go out, he sweeps you off your feet, and you go home with him, happily ever after. But you're getting along, and now getting it over with doesn't sound too bad, especially at the prospect of commercializing an asset you didn't realize you were sitting on.

So you campaigned it. You'd mention it any chance you got. On your profile, in your social media bios, in your videos, you let people know you were looking to break into the professional side of the industry. You didn't wanna be a virgin making home videos anymore, you want a job and you want your audience to pick who plucks that sacred coveted flower.

Until one day: "I've got a guy for you." You stare at that message a long time.

Anakin's not one to shy away from a job outside his comfort zone, especially when his director calls in a favor. So he helps you get situated as a courtesy, "This isn't like making your videos in your bedroom, don't be fooled by the pressure." His large hand takes yours and places it on his forearm, you try to ignore how thick and corded it feels under your palm as he pats it with your hand. "Give me a double tap like that if you need to stop. Anywhere you can reach." You nod, and give an uneasy look around the room that had a lot more people in it than you're used to, this is a set after all. You start to regret how famous your initial posts went.

"Hey." Firmly, he grips you chin, redirecting your gaze onto him. "Don't look at them, look at me. I'm the one that's gonna be inside you, alright?" His tone is perfectly casual, as if he's explained this a thousand times. You nod again. Why are you actually excited for this stranger to take your virginity?

#indy shoots the shit #thanks for the msg!! #anon: 🎀 #ch: adultfilm!anakin #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fic #anakin drabble #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x fem reader #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin imagine #anakin fic #anakin fanfiction #reader insert

[moonsaver]

Sunday is usually so busy, but he loves fitting you anywhere in his schedule.

If both of you are alone, his hands rub your back slowly and warmly, as his other hand scribbles away at his paperwork. He periodically stops to give you a kiss on the top of your head, before resuming his work.

Sometimes, regardless of whether or not you ask, he tells you all about the places that are mentioned during meetings or conversations, on the page of a magazine, in a song, wherever the name appears. He tells you whatever he knows about it, as a sort of subtle way to impress you. Please thank him and tell him he's a smartie, he will melt.

He rarely cooks, but when he does get the time, his measurements are absolutely precise. If you try to help him, he just sits you back down. Even if you get grumpy, the moment he's done cooking, you will be the first to take a bite. He feeds you, too. A huge spoonful will be pushed to your face, a calm and expectant smile on his face. "Do tell me if it is to your liking." He says, and unfortunately, all the irritation fades away.

Sometimes, he really does sorely miss you. So whenever he gets even a minute of a gap in his schedule, he messages you, updating on everything that's happened, and tells you to keep texting him, even if he can't respond right away. So sometimes you open your phone to 7 or so notifications from him, replying in bulk to each and every message of yours. Please send him pictures, too. He misses your face dearly. When he finally gets to see you physically, he kisses your forehead, and rests his chin on top of your head. Sometimes his wings cover your vision, and he flutters them playfully over your face, inciting a giggle from you.

Ooh, please take his hand, and gently guide him over to the sofa, urging him to rest for a bit. You have no idea how much he loves to be spoiled. Force him to close his eyes for a bit, scratch his head lightly and watch his wings slightly perk up from the sensation, kiss his face and watch his frustrated and tense face relax. Cup his face in your hands and he practically melts, sighing and kissing your palm, nuzzling slightly into your hand. Don't mention it, though, he'll get shy, and unfortunately pull away. Sometimes his kisses trail up to your wrist, warm breath tickling the underside of your arm, as you giggle. Not to mention, he has very soft lips.

Sunday loves holding you so so close, especially during the colder seasons. Your bodies heat each other's up, and his skin is so, so soft, and he smells so lovely. Hold his other hand, lean against him and please kiss his jaw. He loves physical contact when it's you. Every kiss is like a transaction, where he counts the number of times you've kissed him, and kisses you back equally, and then some more. He recommends his own lotions and moisturizers, and tells you that you smell good whenever you use his products.

He relaxes so so much when you massage his wings. Headaches from working catch up to him sometimes, and for some reason his wings just make it worse. Massaging them gently and pressing the base, soothing his headache away. He sighs, relaxing into the crook of your neck. Small, few strands of his hair tickle your face as you rest your chin on his head. His hair are ridiculously soft, too. His wings fluff up whenever you massage them, and lightly scratch his head, especially near the base of his wings. It takes a while of patting them down to finally get them to behave. He huffs a bit after he's done, and turns to you with a smile. It's his way of telling you to never stop doing that.

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr sunday x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr sunday x you

[writethrough]

Please I am craving a Billy request that is just mindless fluff about you noticing how his eyes crinkle slightly when he smiles or how his chains get tangled sometimes or how he is actually a soft person on the inside who’s never been able to fully express himself and how beautiful his genuine smile is that you hardly get to see and anything and everything in between (your writing is so dreamy and beautiful how how you write Billy is so 😍😩🫶🏻)

Found You

(Billy Hargrove x Gender Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: You give Billy what he's always needed.

Warnings: So fluffy you could suffocate.

Word Count: 513

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this in! (And for the lovely compliment!) I hope you don't mind, but I wrote this in the same way I did Sun Daze and Morning Blue. It's short, but (I think) super sweet.

He comes alive when he smiles. 

Not the smirks he throws with the cocky click of his tongue, or the slow pull of his mouth that reveals his teeth one by one, like a predator. 

His real smile. The one that crinkles his eyes and scrunches his nose and pulls you in until you’re so close you feel everything. The mint from his gum, the sun baked into his skin, his hands holding your hips, and the softness of his kiss. 

He steals your breath every time. You’ve always been the first to retreat to take in more, and he’ll relent for a few moments, busying himself with those teeth dragging along your neck or his lips gliding from the corner of yours to your ear. He's fed up with waiting when he nips whatever flesh is in front of him before returning to claim the artificial watermelon from your mouth. 

You’d do just about anything to keep him smiling. To pull his laughter from deep within his gut and have it play like music. 

He didn’t laugh much when you first met. Unless it was that taunting one you didn’t like, the one he forced out like armor. 

You still remember the first time you made him laugh out of pure joy. He said he didn’t know the last time that happened. And you made a silent promise to bring it out of him as much as you could. 

He has such capacity for all of it. Laughter...joy...happiness...he just needed someone to help him find it. 

And he does. 

He finds it in the sound of your voice, even when you’re mad at him. It’s different. You’re mad at him because you care, because you love him and want what’s best for him. 

He finds it in your eyes, that burning fire that ignites just for him. The way he touches you. The way he speaks softly, just for you—because of you. The way he strips off his shirt and pulls you flush to him just to see that fire turn into an inferno. 

Then there’s the way you touch him. Not with hate or anger, but like he will break. Your fingers graze his forearms, up to his shoulders, and wind around his neck just to hold him—just because you want to. 

You press kisses into his shoulder as the shower cools, your front to his back because it’s getting cold and he’s so warm. You make it beneath the covers, and he drapes himself over you, face shoved into your neck while you rub his back, following the dip of his spine from top to bottom. And if you’re feeling a certain way, you’d give a little pat. And he responds with a suck. 

Infectious. 

That’s the only way you can describe him. 

He pulled you into his orbit and you’ve never been the same. 

He gives you trust. And you give him safety. 

So, when you say you love his smile, that his laugh is your favorite sound. 

His response, every time is: 

It’s because of you. 

Taglist: @periwinkle-quill, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust, @nix-rose, @realmermaidariel, @eddiesdruid

If you'd liked tagged in future fics, comment or message me!

(Not sure why two tags won't work. Hopefully, you both see this/are magically notified.)

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #Billy Hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #Billy Hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargove imagine #Billy Hargrove fanfic #Billy Hargrove one shot #Billy Hargrove stranger things #stranger things #stranger things billy hargrove

[seresinhangmanjake]

From Two to Four: Part 2

Single Dad!Jake Seresin x Single Mom!reader

Summary: a trip to the movie theater with your son becomes more eventful when you meet a man and manage to save his daughter’s birthday from being ruined.

warnings: none really. Probably typos.

Words: 1800

Two to Four Masterlist, Main Masterlist

---

Jake:

“Daddy?” 

Olive's steps are a delicate pattering in the hallway as she calls for him. Her fist rubs the sleep from one eye, forcing a half-blinded trek to the kitchen. The other hand has her stuffed dinosaur clenched within the vice grip of her fingers. 

“Yea, baby,” Jake responds as he sips his coffee at the round table in their kitchen.

When she reaches his side, she pats his arm until he scoots his chair back far enough for her to crawl onto his lap. “Daddy, today?”

Jake sighs. He should have expected that question to be the first thing out of her mouth upon seeing him. It’s the first thing that’s come out of her mouth every morning since she found Jamie, and he found you. And while Olive is always the one to speak it aloud, it’s a question Jake has asked himself plenty.

It’s been a week since the theater. A week since you shared one popcorn while your children shared the other. A week since he asked if you’d be willing to set up a playdate. But the most that has passed between you since are a handful of text messages mentioning careers, your children, and confirming your single relationship statuses.

To say he’s moved faster with women in the past is an understatement so extreme it’s laughable, but with you, he can’t bring himself to push too far. Every time he writes out the message on his phone asking the four of you to get together, he is hit with the sudden thought that there is a lot on the line. While he doesn’t know much about you, what he does know is just a little too perfect. It makes him want to know more. More than he should. 

He wants to know your past and how you see your future; your likes and dislikes; what kind of mother you are–though he suspects nothing less than wonderful. He wants to know about Jamie’s father and how involved he is; if he’s good to you, offering the support and kindness you and Jamie deserve. But then, that thought invites a new concern. If the father is in your life, should Jake allow his mind to continue wandering? Should he really be thinking about the single mother with a stunning face and a laugh that had his stomach fluttering, who also has a son his daughter’s age? You might as well have a halo above your head, and he doesn’t want to let you slip through his fingers, but his pulse races when he thinks of asking you to meet again. You could very well not feel the same. There’s a high chance you haven't been thinking about him as much as he has you. 

So he hasn’t called. He doesn’t want to face the rejection. But it’s affecting his daughter now, who is rapidly growing impatient. 

Olive tilts her head back, doe-like eyes staring hard at the underside of his chin until he surrenders and looks down. Her bottom lip protrudes in a pout. 

“You promised,” she whimpers, and Jake snorts, fully aware of her manipulative tactics. “I wanna play with Jaime.”

She rarely asks him for anything; it truly is the least he could do for her. And maybe seeing you will help him gather the courage to ask what he is desperate to know. 

“Alright, baby,” Jake agrees. “Today.”

—

The second Olive’s feet hit the sand, she beelines for Jaime. 

The second his own feet hit the sand, he’s searching for you. 

You’re close by, keeping a dutiful eye on the children as they meet in the middle with a tight hug. Jamie slightly lifts Olive off the ground which elicits a strand of giggles that are greatly overdue. The sight is a little squeeze to Jake’s heart. He wants her smiles always present; Her eyes permanently alight. 

“How are you?” is the calling question that turns his attention. You’re walking toward him, and while there is no halo, the rays of the sun accentuate your silhouette in a comparable angelic manner.

“I’m good. Great,” he corrects as your face becomes more distinguishable. Still so beautiful. “And you?”

With that wide stomach-flutter-inducing smile, you shrug. “Never better.”

Once you’ve established beach rules and received speedy agreements, you both take a seat in the sand, maintaining a view of your children while staying far enough away to give them space to exercise their imaginations. Which they do to the utmost degree. With each game of tag played, the chaser transforms into a new ferocious creature—larger than the one before—until Jamie finds himself running from a mammoth with lollipops for tusks and a blue bow tied around its trunk. Ferocious indeed.

“It’s so easy for them,” you say. “They just slip right into it.”

Jake’s eyes meet the profile of your face as you stare at your kids in longing-like wonder. 

“I never had that. Not really.” You finally look at him. “Not even with Jamie’s father.”

Were there sadness in your soft gaze, Jake wouldn’t perk up the way he does at the mention of the man he can’t avoid thinking about wherever he thinks of you. A man he’s assumed he might never hear the details of. While Jake isn't one to conceal the pieces of his past, it’s impossible to say—with such little known about you—if you approach the topic similarly. To Jake, the past is what made him who he is; good, bad, ugly. The past, however difficult, gave him his daughter, and he doesn’t refrain from speaking about that time simply because he is not ashamed of it. 

Praying he’s not about to cross an unforgivable line, Jake cautiously says, “Would you tell me about him? If you’re comfortable.”

You blow out a long breath. A beat passes before you nod. “He’s not around,” you say, and Jake is met with a shameful pang of relief. “And left before Jamie was born.”

“Does he know?”

“Yes,” you reply. “But he changed the moment I told him. Grew angrier with each day. Started blaming me for not having taken precautions—like he was such a prize and I was trying to keep others from having a chance to claim him for themselves.” Your brow pinches and your toes dig into the sand as if to keep you grounded. “When I was seven months along, he met some girl at a New Year’s Eve party I was too exhausted to attend, and a month later he broke up with me to move to the other side of the country with her. I think they’re married now,” you say. “And I doubt she ever knew about me or Jamie.”

Jake’s silent as he takes it all in, thankful for what you were willing to share of your story, though there is likely more you’re not quite ready to divulge. Even so, the thought of you being abandoned at eight months pregnant is enough to simultaneously churn his stomach and invite a red hue to seep into the circumference of his vision. 

You’re strong, he thinks. Stronger than many. Stronger than the man who tossed you and your son away.

You interrupt his thoughts with a question of your own. “Do you mind if I ask the same?”

Unafraid to tell his story, and eager to hopefully tighten the budding connection between you, Jake doesn’t hesitate to begin. “She’s not around, either,” he says. “And I have no idea where she is.”

From that answer alone, he notices your shoulders relax. 

A shriek comes from ahead and Jake pauses to confirm it's of playfulness before continuing. “She never wanted Olive. I hate saying that, but she was honest from the beginning, and I thought I felt the same until the due date got close.”

With much of your attention given to him—the rest, of course, reserved for the children—his confidence grows.

“Somehow, it took almost nine months for the word ‘adoption’ to leave either of our mouths, though we both knew that was the path we were choosing. But hearing it—something happened to me.” Jake runs his fingers through his hair, recalling the immediate shift in his heart; remembering the relentless image plaguing his mind of a coin balanced on its narrow edge, able to land on either side. “I became unsettled, when before I was so sure. And it kept me up nearly every night until Olive came. 

“When she finally did, I took one look at her and knew she was mine. More than mine by blood, but my daughter,” he says. “Her mother was pissed. Said she didn’t want me coming after her to demand she take responsibility down the line, but I swore I wouldn’t and I haven’t seen her since. I took Olive home to a house entirely unprepared for a baby, and that was it.”

Just as he had, you soak it all in. “Do you think she will ever come back?” You ask. 

Purely out of respect for his daughter, Jake thinks about his answer for more than a half-second. No one has ever asked him that before. He hasn’t ever asked it himself. Because he already knows the truth. 

He shakes his head and replies, “No. She’s not the type.”

With a nod, you say, “Neither will Jamie’s father. Not that I want him to. Jamie doesn’t know him and, for now, doesn’t seem to be missing that figure.” You pull your legs to your chest, wrap your arms around them, and settle your chin atop your knees. “But I fear the day I’m no longer enough for him. His friends will talk about their fathers, they’ll ask about his, and what will he say?”

Jake has been neglecting the very same worry for years. He’ll have a teenage girl one day. There are things she won’t want to talk to him about; things he isn’t sure how to comfortably explain.

But Jake doesn’t say that, though he should. Instead, he goes with what feels slightly more important at the moment—validation.

“You’re enough,” he says. “More than enough.”

In the silence that follows, you simply watch one another. Examining; deciphering; appreciating. And he could’ve stayed that way, but parental duties come first. 

“Daddy!” Olive suddenly calls in tune with Jamie’s, “Mommy!”

You both break the held stare to greet the smiling faces of your children. Their hands alternate between burrowing into the ground for wet sand and dumping handfuls of softer grains over a mound of unidentifiable shape. 

“Lookit! We are building our new house,” Olive yells, her arms spread wide with pride after smacking a chunk of damp sand onto the side of their sculpture.

Jaime nods with enough vigor to strain his neck. 

“It’s perfect,” you say.

“You really like it?”

“We love it,” Jake confirms. 

The four-year-olds share a triumphant grin before Jaime decidedly declares, “That’s good! All of us are moving in tomorrow!”

---

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @abaker74 @dizzybee03 @alana4610 @thewitchesofart

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm fic #tgm #jake seresin fluff #dad!jake seresin x reader #singledad!jake seresin

[endless-ineffabilities]

and what of your love?

Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader (nsfw / 18+)

part two of the prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: 'don't you love me?' , part three: the flames that divide , part four: the aftermath

themes: angst (obvi), smut, mention of violence/death, language, dragonrider!reader (her house is not stated)

word count: 4.6k ▪︎ masterlist

Aemond Targaryen is to be married, but his heart is not in it. In fact, he feels as if he hasn't had a heart ever since you left.

The message sits on your desk, the words all too vivid and clear, as if mocking you.

"You are cordially requested to bear witness to the union of Prince Aemond Targaryen and his future consort, Lady Alys Rivers..."

You had rushed through the words, in utter disbelief, your heart breaking all the while. Towards the end, it also stated, “His Royal Highness, King Aegon II, wishes to extend a truce, only to the Lady y/n, for the entire duration of the royal festivities, at the behest of Prince Aemond."

Oh please.

It has been over a year since you last saw him in your field, and ever since that night, you've tried your hardest to erase him from your heart. When he played a hand in the death of Lucerys, you were sure that would be the nail in the coffin of whatever love you may have had for him. Sweet, brave Luke who grew to become a brother to you. He was too young. The pain was crippling, the rage it unravelled was immeasurable.

You tell yourself, every day, every hour, that Aemond is lost. The man you once loved, the Prince who relentlessly pursued you, the lover who promised you the world - was no more.

But even you can't fool yourself.

Every time word reaches you of his latest crime, you don't feel hate. You want to only be angry, you should be. But you just can't.

He will always be your Aemond. You may condemn his actions, but you could never cut yourself free of him. He will always have a part of you, which is why you haven't taken any other lover.

But, apparently, he has.

The Lady Alys Rivers was rumoured to be beautiful, and enchanting. The perfect match for the equally alluring young prince.

Oh, seven hells. This must be a joke. Surely, he doesn't think I would actually deign to attend this union.

When you gave word to Daemon and Rhaenyra, they were sure that Aemond is merely toying with you. They knew all too well about your past affair, and seemed assured that this invitation was just a way for Aemond to get under your skin. To get you to lower your defenses.

There was no way you would cross over into enemy territory, given the heightened scale of the ongoing war.

Besides, why the fuck would you want to?

If he truly has forgotten me, if he has truly fallen for another, then I must move on. He no longer is my Aemond. He is hers.

Resolute, you take the parchment, the confirmation of what you have lost, and throw it into the hearth.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The revelry is in full swing, and the lords and ladies of the court are jovially partaking in the week-long festivities, customary before a grand wedding of a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Albeit now there is an atmosphere of gloom. A sense of unease due to the war is felt by most, and tonight, ale and dancing and fucking are the thoughtless remedies.

The groom, Prince Aemond, sits stoically at the High Table. His inebriated King brother sits to his left, and his bride, Lady Alys, to his right.

She keeps one hand on him, as she does every time, as if she fears that he might run away.

He has half a mind to do just that, plotting as he sips his wine. You had not showed up. You had not even given any notice of having received the invitation.

Does she know I am to be married? Does she not care?

Aemond downs his cup of wine in one long swig, to which his brother cheers, and pats him on the back.

His soon-to-be wife, glances at him chastisingly, and says, "Slowly, my love, the feast has only just begun."

My love. Aemond whips his head to her in a flash, "I told you not to call me that. Call me whatever you wish, just not that."

Lady Alys flinches at his tone, "Careful with how you address me, Aemond. I am your wife."

Aemond takes another swig after his cup has been filled, "Not yet."

"It makes no difference. I will be, soon," his consort smiles, clearly satisfied with herself, "Dance with me, husband?"

"Hmm," he tries to remain polite, although it's taking much resolve, "you go ahead. I'll remain here for now."

She plants a heavy kiss on his cheek, giggling, and joins the dance, getting lost in the crowd.

Aemond muses about his consort, how provocative and sly she is. The reason why he chose her, after the incessant nagging from his mother Alicent that he should be married, is because she's just about the least likely prospect.

Alicent immediately wanted to marry him off to some other highborn lady, someone more proper. Not the bastard daughter of House Strong, but he disagreed. He had no personal desire to be married, anyway, and is merely performing his duty. Marrying for love was clearly out of the cards, since you...

You. Aemond takes another gulp of wine.

He chose Alys on a whim, but also because she was the most amusing out of his options. She is beautiful, brazen with her words, and didn't care much for pomp and nobility. And, well, she was the one who is the most similar to you. Although, she can never hold a candle to your hold on Aemond's heart.

Aemond didn't love her, no, but he is able to tolerate her at least. He once thought that, perhaps, if you had never been in the picture, maybe Alys might have been able to steal his heart instead.

But you are. And you had.

He wonders if you still feel longing, if you also possess that incessant emptiness in your chest. If you still... love...

Fuck. I need her. He takes another drink.

"Brother," Aegon claps him on the shoulder loudly, jeering, "I've never seen you swig ale that quickly. Don't worry about losing your bachelorhood. You're the fucking Prince! You can have any bedmate you want, and your wife can't say a single thing."

There is it again. Wife. Aemond begins to think it vile. A pang of pity also befalls him for his dear sister Helaena, that she should be saddled with an imbecile of a spouse such as Aegon.

Fortunately, in a twisted way, it may even be beneficial for Helaena that her husband sleeps around, so that she may constantly not be on the receiving end of his nightly drunken stupors.

He wonders, dread and jealousy enveloping him, if you had taken anyone to wed. If he is anything like Aegon is as a husband, then war be damned. He would take Vhagar, reach wherever you and that mongrel may be, and end him.

In truth, even if your chosen consort would be the kindest lord in all of the Seven Kingdoms, Aemond would still crush him. He would burn him to the ground.

Doesn’t she care the same? Why isn’t she here now, putting a halt to this farce of a marriage?

Perhaps, she doesn’t trust me. Of course, why would she? Given what I’ve done…

“I know why your face is so sour,” his drunken brother addresses him again, “It’s because of Lady y/n’s absence, is it not? Well, she may still be present at the actual wedding ceremony.”

“You reek of ale, brother. Drinking like a fucking Braavosi sea horse, as always.” Aemond snaps back, getting tense at the subject of you being brought up.

“Why must you be so into that bitch, Aemond?,” Aegon continues his tirade, “You have a lusty wife now, and you can have a thousand whores besides.”

In an instant, Aemond slams his fist on the table and gets off his seat, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Aegon, the King, shirks away from his brother, knowing it was unwise to get on his nerve. Despite jesting with him so often, he may have forgotten that he shouldn’t have mentioned you in that way.

The Kingsguard draw close, prepared to defend their king. Ser Criston Cole rushes over to Aemond, “Stand down, my prince. Not here.”

Aemond glares at his brother, and if looks could kill…

Until he mumbles that sinister, “Hmm.” He composes himself, and raises a hand up to the guards, and to the crowd, “Carry on.”

The feast reluctantly restarts at first, but moments after, the whole exchange was forgotten.

But Aemond can no longer just sit there. If you weren’t going to come to the feast, or to the wedding, then there may be another way to get you to him.

He stands, ignoring the questioning looks coming his way, and he stalks out of the great hall.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It has been a long evening, mostly spent in the Black Council, analysing the current trajectory of the war. Everyone was in agreement that the Greens have not made any significant measures due to the ongoing wedding festivities of one Prince Aemond.

Half of the council wanted to strike then, while they were occupied with all that pompous nonsense, while the other half favoured a temporary truce, at least until the nuptials have been finalized, for the sake of upholding and respecting Westerosi tradition.

Daemon, being Daemon, had only this to say, “Oh, who cares if my one-eyed nephew will be wed? All our eggs will be there, drowned in booze, in one basket. We should ride and just burn everything down.”

But that was the problem. Everyone would indeed be there. Even the lords and ladies, the maesters, the children, who were simply forced to side with the Greens, out of fear for their lives. Rhaenyra didn’t want any more unnecessary bloodshed, to which you agree.

You return to your chambers, exhausted, mostly due to the sore subject of Aemond’s wedding having been mentioned often. You were grateful to Rhaenyra, who was quick to change the matter of discussion, when she noticed you were growing uncomfortable.

Walking over to your table, you notice a plain black box, one that was not there when you left. You trace your fingers over it, feeling the smooth wooden exterior, and carefully lift the lid.

Your heart stops.

Gillyflower.

A cluster of fresh gillyflower lay inside, in a bright burst of red and violet. The flower that grew so wildly in that field. Yours and Aemond’s.

This used to be your tradition. If either of you wished to meet the other there, all you had to do was surreptitiously send some gillyflower. Like your own shared secret message.

Normally, there would be have been a bit of parchment, with sweet words imprinted.

My love.

My flower.

Come to me.

Each day without you is one I cannot bear.

Now, there was none. But you are sure, this can only be from Aemond.

Should I…? What if it’s a trap?

You mind races, heart beating wildly. You want nothing more than to take the risk, but what of your allegiance? Would you be betraying them? You should be concerned for your safety, but you also knew, he would never hurt you.

You need answers. You need revenge. You need Ae…

Oh, seven hells. Grabbing your sword, and putting on your cloak, you make your way out the door.

“Going somewhere?”, Daemon stands, leaning against the wall, as if expecting you to come out at any moment.

“Daemon,” you say, surprised. The cloak and the sheathed sword surely gave you away.

“It’s my nephew, isn’t it?”

“What-“

“I intercepted the messenger who brought over that box. I wondered about the contents, but then, who else could it be from?”

“Hmm,” you whisper, knowing it futile to hide anything from Daemon, “he wishes to meet me. I know not what for.”

“And you’re going.” He replies, as if stating a fact.

You nod, thinking of the right thing to say next. About how you will never betray Rhaenyra, how you only need to see him even if you’re not sure why, how you will be able to fend for yourself.

But your worries are quelled when Daemon says, “You better hurry then.”

“Daemon,” you say, not expecting him to just let this slide so easily.

“Listen, y/n, I trust you. I trust that you know what you’re doing,” he moves closer to you, “As for my nephew, he may be a bloody monster, and I may never forgive him, but I’m sure he thinks himself lucky to have someone like you to love him truly.”

You stare at him in admiration. There was a reason why Daemon drew so many people to him. He was cunning and highly dangerous, yes. But he was also intelligent and fair.

“I myself think the same way in that I have Rhaenyra to love me, as wretched as I am,” he smiles, and nudges your shoulder, “Go.”

You start to walk away, but you turn back once more, “Thank you, Daemon.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The field is more or less the same, although the growth of gillyflower has become more relentless, pockets of red and violet and white spread all throughout.

You dismount from your dragon, close to Vhagar, and the great and terrifying beast only grunts in recognition. You were one of the only two people whom she was comfortable around, after your many trysts spent riding with Aemond.

“Hello again, you beauty,” you call out to her, “Where is your master, hmm?”

The field itself was empty, but there was a new fixture in the distance, close to the hills. A small, stone cabin, with faint candlelight burning inside.

Steeling yourself, you make your way over, knowing that nothing can truly prepare you for what’s to come.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“My love.”

You hear him the moment you walk inside, and you have to stop yourself from running straight into his arms. You raise your head, and finally meet his gaze.

Aemond looks rougher, more rugged. As if the war has taken its toll. All the fighting must have strained him, as his figure is still lean and lithe but more muscular.

“Aemond,” you finally say, taking a quick glance around the room. It’s a humble space, with a large bed pushed up against the wall, candles haphazardly placed around the room. You see a bunch of gillyflower on a round table, weapons hung neatly above the fireplace, as well as…

Aemond follows your eyeline, and takes the framed image from the wall.

“Do you wish to see it?” he says, but he’s already handing it to you.

Taking it in your hands, you study the image containing a likeness of you. Every detail of your face, to your neck, down to your shoulders, portrayed by an artist’s skilled hand.

You try to comprehend what the fuck exactly it is you’re looking at, and you also can’t seem to grasp how cordial Aemond is acting about everything.

As if he hadn’t played a hand in the demise of some people you truly cared for.

You slowly hand the painting back to him, the words stuck in your throat.

He hangs it back up, “Beautiful, isn’t it, my love? I had it made not too long ago. As for this place, well, I needed somewhere where I can still have you. One way or another.”

“What are you talking about?” you manage to say.

“I haven’t been able to see you in far too long, my love. Too. Long.”

“There’s a clear reason for that, Aemond,” you say firmly, growing uneasy at the unhinged look in his eye, unblinking, devouring the sight of you.

He reaches for your hands, and you instinctively flinch backwards.

“Don’t, Aemond.”

“Why not, hmm?” he circles you, pacing ever so slowly, stopping just behind you, “You came here on your own volition, pet. You wanted to come, to see me.”

“I came to talk.”

“Hmm,” he makes the low noise that he always does, and it makes you want to just capture that sound from his lips with your own. He lowers the hood of your cloak, and you just stand there, letting the situation unfold.

Aemond’s fingers brush purposefully against the back of your neck as he takes your cloak off, and leaves in it a pile by your feet.

He steps closer, and you feel his breath against your neck. Using one hand, he pulls you to his chest. You don’t want to turn around and face him, afraid you might lose control, but you also can’t find it in you to move away.

“You built this place,” you state, your voice flat.

“This is our secret place, y/n,” he whispers close to your ear, “Every corner is a tribute to you. There is your picture, your favourite flowers, the sheets are of your favourite colour, the volumes on the mantel are the stories you like the most. Through this, I have some way of being with you.”

“Aemond,” you force yourself to pull away from him, “my love.”

“You finally said it,” he smiles.

“What?” you lean against a wall.

“My love,” he says, and moves to sit on a chair opposite you, “you’ve called me by name since you arrived, until then. Even though I don’t mind the way my name rolls off of your sweet tongue.”

“Stop,” you remind yourself that you came here for answers, “why did you call me here? Aren’t you about to wed?”

“Only for the sake of my duty, to further the Targaryen line.”

“Really? Why Alys Rivers then? Why not some highborn, legitimate lady?” your voice grows cold, and Aemond smirks at your jealousy.

“Because I simply don’t care. It pisses mother off, and you as well, it seems.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re free to wed whomever you wish, Aemond.”

“No,” he says, “I am not. Otherwise, I would have wed you a long time ago.”

“Well, your actions have forever buried that possibility,” you say too quickly, ire reflected in your words.

He flinches at your words, his lips pursing, “I only do what I have to do.”

“You didn’t have to kill Luke!” you lunge forward, your hand flying to the hilt of your sword by your waist.

Aemond notices your movement, but does nothing, “Hmm, Luke was merely a casualty in this war.”

“He was your family, Aemond. He was just a child. Why?”

He says nothing, and looks at you up and down, assessing your growing distress.

“Do you even regret it?” you ask.

A long pause passes, until he says, “I only regret that it has caused you pain.”

“Wrong answer, Aemond.” You unsheathe your sword, holding it out straight it front of you, “Fight me.”

This is the only right thing you can think of doing. The other things that have crossed your mind were completely unsavoury, unthinkable acts to do with the murderer who caused the death of your friend. You shouldn’t reach for him, you shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t admire him, you shouldn’t run your fingers down his scar with reverence. Never again.

So, perhaps, you should bring him to justice.

“My love,” his tone is amused, and you grow even more frustrated.

“Get your sword.”

He stands, a sly curve on his prominent bowed lips.

My brave girl, he thinks.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

For fuck’s sake, Aemond. No. “Your sword, Aemond.”

He backs away slowly to where his sword hangs above the fireplace, takes it, and diligently twirls it in one hand.

Your nerve starts to fail. Aemond was surely a better swordsman; he has been furiously training all his life. But, well, so have you.

Long ago, you and him even trained together. You may stand a chance.

“Your move, pet,” he says, tauntingly.

You cross the distance between the two of you, and deal the first parry, your blades connecting loudly in the air. An electric pause occurs, and Aemond smirks at you.

You dodge to the side, and lunge at him again. He easily deflects the blow.

You circle each other, and it’s unclear as to who is the predator and who is the prey.

Aemond deals a wide overhead arch, and you’re quick to block it halfway. This brings his face dangerously close to yours, and he whispers, nearly against your lips, “Surrender, my love.”

“Never,” you lunge backwards again, and Aemond twirls his sword smoothly, once, twice, and another final time.

Then, he spins in a circle, his sword a mere blur in the air, before delivering his final stroke, pushing you against the wall, the edge of his blade an inch away from your neck.

But, you were able to anticipate this, at the last second, as your sword slipped from your grasp.

“I win, pet. You’re mine.”

“Think again.” you whisper, and when he looks down, he finally notices the sharp edge of your knife poking at his ribs.

He looks at you in awe, “Well, I suppose we both have each other then, my love.”

He lunges forward, and claims your lips in a searing kiss. Wild, and passionate, as if to make up for lost time. Your respective blades remain where they are, and he muses, “Hmm, you know, we could just kill each other here. A glorious lovers’ death.”

“Aemond,” you say, out of breath from the kiss, and let your knife clatter to the floor.

He does the same with his sword, and pushes you against the wall once more, using his whole body to keep you in place.

“Tell me what you came for, my love. The truth.”

“I…” you say, deciding to let everything go, “I came for you.”

That is all he needed. And, for you, it feels freeing to allow yourself to just want Aemond. To love him. Despite what’s he has done, and how wrong this may be.

Your Aemond.

You run your fingers down the side of his face, and he shuts his eye in ecstasy. Your fingers stop at his eyepatch, asking permission, and he nods once, immediately.

His sapphire eye never fails to take your breath away. If anything, it only made him look otherworldly. Ethereal.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, and his heart swells.

He takes your face in his hand, admiration raw in his expression. Then he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your lips battle each other, as he strides over to the bed. He gently lowers you, and your arms naturally reach for his neck, bringing him down with you.

He chuckles deeply, flattered by your eagerness, “Patience, my love.”

“I have been patient,” you respond, as he nips at your neck, “but now I just want to take.”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’ve missed your fire.”

“I’ve missed my dragon.”

“And,” he says, softly, pausing to kiss you, “a dragon…” another kiss, “is nothing…”, and another, “without its fire.”

“Oh, Aemond.”

He presses his forehead to yours, “I am lost without you.”

He makes swift work of untying your dress, only pausing to leave kisses down your body, until you’re left in a sheer white shift. You sit up, helping him remove his tunic, admiring every ripple of muscle, every new scar, every stretch of his glowing skin. His hair had come loose, the signature Targaryen silver like an aura surrounding him.

When he’s undressed, he takes the final piece of clothing off of you, the white shift that leaves nothing to the imagination, and throws that to the floor with the rest.

You begin a sort of dance, one that you both know so well, repeated over many sleepless nights filled with passion.

He always starts with you, lowering himself down to your heat. You almost come undone every time you see him, lips close to your entrance, before he makes the first taste. His eye gleams up at you, and then he begins.

Tongue swirling at your entrance, while his thumb masterfully plays with your folds. He keeps at it for a long moment, before he takes a second to look you right in the eye while he brings his fingers to his lips.

“Mmm,” he breathes, then he lowers his lips to your wet cunt once more.

“Aemond,” your fist bunch up at the sheets, your back arches, your toes curl.

He makes you tremble, your breath hitching at intervals.

He feels you getting close, so he licks one last strip upward, “Not yet, my love.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Hmm, say that again,” he gets up, positioning his knees on either side of your thighs.

“My Prince Aemond,” you say, “Mine.”

“Yours,” he purrs.

He takes your lips again, an action you will never grow tired of, his fingers gripping your hair. He kisses down your cheek, your jaw, then your neck. He sucks at the flesh, marking his territory, making you press your pelvis onto his, feeling the length of his hardened shaft.

“Hmm,” he shivers, “fuck.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to position himself, and he does.

His pushes his tip to your cunt. Torturously, but only just.

“Oh, for gods’ sake,” you moan, “come inside me, Aemond.”

He laughs, “As you wish, my love.”

He stretches you wide, pushing inch by inch, and you have to grow accustomed to his size once more.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“Does it hurt badly, my love?” he is quick to ask, watching your face intently.

“It’s okay,” you grip the back of his neck, “keep going.”

With one deep grunt, he fills you completely, thrusting deep.

He moans, music to your ears, and whispers your name. He rolls his hips backward, then forward again, the motion more rough this time, moving your entire body upward.

“Aemond,” you whisper, “my Aemond.”

“My love,” he looks at you in wonder, sprawled beneath him, “it’s only been you. It will only ever be you.”

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him passionately. His hips resume movement. Slow, deep thrusts at first.

Then he turns wild. He ruts into you, quicker, more frantic, the smacking sounds of flesh and sweat, and unhinged animalistic moans echoing throughout the room.

He does a surprising move, his fingers first drifting around your neck, then applying pressure, and he looks like a vengeful, hot-blooded god above you. His face hovers just inches above yours, and his grip on your neck unexpectedly excites you, the danger of Aemond only serving to make things more erotic, and reckless. Your dark prince.

You dig your nails into his wrist, returning the pressure.

“You should have married me,” he breathes, “why didn’t you run away with me?”

“Aemond,” everything throbs, the fire in your abdomen reaching its climax, from his frenzied thrusts, to his hand on your neck, to his crazed expression.

“You’re mine. They can’t have you. No one else can.” His words are punctuated with hard thrust, after hard thrust.

Almost simultaneously, gloriously, you both come apart. Aemond spasms inside you, filling you with his seed. Your hips continue to jerk against him, as you writhe uncontrollably, riding down your high.

He places one more soft kiss upon your lips, then collapses beside you.

You close your eyes in satisfaction, letting the feeling wash over you.

You feel his fingertips on your neck, and you open your eyes, finding him lying on his side, studying you.

“Was that okay?" he asks, referring to his grip on your neck.

“Mhmm,” you reassure him, turning to your side as well.

He hums in return, before smirking, “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

You laugh at his forwardness, and he looks at you lovingly.

He leans forward to kiss you, “My heart has returned.”

You feel a pang of guilt at how you left him, all that time ago, even if it may have been the right thing to do. It will never be simple between you and Aemond.

“I missed you,” you say wholeheartedly.

“And what of your love?” he says, taking your hand.

“My Aemond,” you press your forehead to his, “It will never be gone.”

taglist: @dazecrea @ladystardvsts @afro-hispwriter @dudfahsn @poohkie90 @literishdegree99 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @lilostif16 @deeeeexx @nephitis @ladymoon666 @minicikasworld @livimulati @the-orions-belt @blueskies4everxo @stillinracooncity @julieeba @lawlerek @missusnora @wickedbutlovely @camspnt @umavvitch @claudie-080102 @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @puredicks @crazylokonugget @lj127 @amethystwonders11 @icarusignite @mandyki @darylandbethfanforever9 @highexpectationsgurl @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

I've decided to save most of the sadness & regret for the next part, and yes, there will be a part 3. Our boy Aemond is still to be married after all. And he is still a "bloody monster" with majestic hair.

I hope I've tagged all those who asked - I'll keep yous tagged for any upcoming Aemond fic as well.

Taglist open - just comment.

PS. Alys Rivers is apparently Aemond's lover in the books, and I fear the feral jealous monster I will become if they decide to show that old hag in the upcoming seasons of HOTD. Sorry, not sorry.

#house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can we have bestfriend headcanons for rollo please???? i need to be friends with this guy so bad you don't understand

***Warning: Glorious Masquerade spoilers in the final few headcanons!***

Curiouser and Curiouser...

The best way to sum up this relationship is that Rollo is the mom friend, and you are his child. (If you were to ask Rollo, he would say you're an idiot, but you're his idiot.)

From an outsider's perspective, it's hard to tell that you're friends at all. He always has that hard-to-read face on him, plus those grimaces he gets whenever the slightest annoyance or inconvenience makes itself known.

You've gotten used to his quirks though, so you can read his emotions a lot better than most. When the corners of his mouth twitch, that's him trying to smile! When he taps a finger against his arm? He's thinking hard about something.

He dislikes it when you call him "bestie" (so, of course, you make sure to do it often). Rollo corrects you with his name each and every time.

He finds physical affection just as repulsive. Rollo's constantly shying away from your touch, insisting that it's unhygienic and immodest to even so much as brush shoulders by accident.

There was an incident when you hugged him once and he got oddly quiet, then asked "... What is this?" to which you had casually responded, "Affection."

"Disgusting," Rollo had declared, handkerchief to his nose. "... Do it again."

He's one of those old-fashioned people who insists on keeping in contact via letters and cards instead of text messages, email, and/or social media. Rollo claims that stuff "rots your brain cells" and "promotes a vain, degenerate lifestyle".

You thought it silly and inefficient at first, but over time you've come to appreciate the time and thought that comes with each letter. Receiving a note from Rollo is the best part of your day--you love catching up with him and sending him back updates of your very own.

He's a busy guy and follows a strict schedule, so more often than not you're the one that's following him around as he does his various tasks. You lend him a hand too, though Rollo takes care to not burden you too much. These are his responsibilities, so he should take charge of them.

You occasionally climb up the bell tower with him (the view up there is amazing!) and all the gargoyles clamor to greet you. Rollo has to remind them not to overwhelm the guest.

When there is time, you sit down at a cafe and share a meal. Rollo introduces you to his favorite places and makes recommendations (though he usually gets the exact same thing). You try to push him to vary up his diet a bit more, tearing off pieces of your own lunch or offering him bites of whatever it is you're having (even though he insists he'll have none of that).

One day, you caught Rollo parading through the streets on horseback. He introduced his steed to you, instructing you on how to safely pat it and feed it an apple from your hand. The horse seemed to like you, so Rollo hoisted you up and let you ride it around the city for the rest of the day.

He's still not very good at expressing himself. When you sense that he's feeling down in the dumps, it takes quite a bit of coaxing to get him to talk about it with you (if at all). In his mind, he shouldn't be troubling others with his own matters.

Sometimes you're not successful at convincing him to open up, so you settle for giving a gentle reminder that you'll be there for him no matter what. You wouldn't want to push him to talk when he's not ready to!

... On the other hand, when Rollo wants to talk, he'll rant and rave for what seems like forever. You patiently nod your head and listen to everything he spews out, from his express hatred of a certain lizard to how the local goats almost ate his stationary set.

There are rare times, though, when Rollo shares his passions and ambitions with you. The relaxing gardening he has been doing as of late, how beautiful the Bell of Salvation is today, his plans for the future... It's in these moments that you can truly appreciate how solemn and thoughtful he can be.

Rollo often nags you for little things: there's a crease in your shirt, your room is slightly messy, there's a hair out of place, etc. But hey, it's fine. You know he does it lovingly, even if the comments come with a slight frown.

He also tends to lecture you about your own safety, often warning you to keep away from "suspicious individuals" (and, of course, mages). Rollo lets you know that if anyone gives you trouble, you should inform him right away and he'll come storming over to give them hell. Yes, he's the overprotective friend that will throw himself into the crossfires to defend your honor--

This man comes to hangouts with everything you could possibly need in case of an emergency. Got a scrape? Boom, first aid kit. (He even patches you up personally.) Hands dirty? Hand sanitizer and wet wipes for the rescue. You start calling him “dad” as a joke every time he produces exactly what you need.

Rollo has the tendency to (sternly) speak up for you, especially in cases when you're too meek to speak up for yourself. It has big "EXCUSE ME! They asked for no pickles" energy.

Once a year, you join Rollo for a very special trip. You always stop by the same florist's shop, always watch him select the same bouquet of white lilies, always walk quietly alongside him down to the local cemetery. You don't follow him to the grave, but you let him know he can take as long as he needs with the visit, that you'll wait for him at the gates.

You watch the clouds slowly pass by and the sky change colors from cornflower blue to the shades of sunset. Night has started to trickle in when you hear his approaching footsteps. The flower bouquet is gone, deposited as an offering to a boy that has become one with the stars.

Rollo emerges, and you pretend to not notice the wetness to his eyes, the silvery shine upon his cheeks. You know if you point it out, he'll only become defensive and deny it.

"Ready to go?" you ask every year.

"... Yes," he replies, just the same as always. (Rollo will then try to subtly wipe away at his tears.) "Thank you for accompanying me. I do apologize for imposing on your time."

"Don't," you tell him. "I've always got your back, just like you've always got mine. That's what friends are for, right?"

#twst #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #Rollo Flamme #Reader #self insert #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo at the Writing Desk #curiouser and curiouser #spoilers

[sweetkpopmusings]

wonwoo boyfriend headcanons <3

a/n: i am vibrating from how much cold brew i consumed on an empty stomach so i'm writing this in hopes of wonwoo thoughts calming me down but honestly i'll just end up crying <3 pics not mine~

content: fluff | wc: 1.4k | warnings: none! | pairing: boyfriend!wonwoo x gn!reader | requests: open

wonwoo is the love of my life actually. it's scientifically proven and peer-reviewed that i love and adore him with all my heart and soul, so this post is going to be long and filled with my love for him <3

sweetest softest most loving boy in the world <3

he's the type of person to show love through small, tender gestures and actions

loves playing with your hands

i can very clearly see him lying in bed, grabbing your hand delicately, and twiddling with your fingers while you both watch tv/read/scroll on your phones

he also does this absentmindedly when he’s thinking

he may be lost in thought but that doesn’t mean he’s unaware of your presence <3

your presence actually helps him think more clearly :-(

he'll always come to you with questions or problems he needs to work through because just talking to you helps him sort out his thoughts and he knows you'll always offer support and advice

he will call you or send you voice messages about this when he's away too

you are always always always on his mind

and he never lets you forget it

wonwoo so clearly loves you with every little thing he does

even the unconscious ones

walking on the outer part of the sidewalk so you're farther away from vehicles, putting his hand over your head when you enter a car, getting two of a drink/snack so you can have some, tidying up your area of the bathroom counter, and so on

taking care of you is his second nature :-((

sometimes wonwoo just stares at you with complete wonder in his eyes because he can't believe you're real

when you catch him doing it and ask if there's something on your face he just shakes his head and says in tiny "oh no it's nothing"

he looks down to his hands and he's blushing SO much and fighting back a lil smile because he's overwhelmed by how much he loves you i'm screaming

if you push up his glasses when they start to slip or straighten the collar of his shirt or fix a loose strand of his hair he will absolutely lose it

you broke his brain like he doesn't know how to contain himself when you do kind gestures like that

he's muttering and stuttering "thank you" over and over again

he's so cute and flustered so you just give him a lil kiss or pat on the head and he goes completely silent and his eyes are literally sparkling with his love for you

no thoughts head empty except for his love for you <3

wonwoo is a big big BIG fan of quality time

he adores doing things with you, and he equally adores sharing space with you as you both do your respective things

if y'all are in the living room reading different books but cuddled together on the couch, wonwoo is genuinely in heaven

he also loves having you around while he games. like if you're in his vicinity he's so at peace even when his emotions are at an all-time high during the game

and he loves just hanging out while you're doing something you love !!

he simply loves your physical proximity (or digital if he's touring/you're traveling and y'all just facetime or call while doing your own things like cooking or working)

he will let you know when he wants your undivided attention though

often he will do this by biting your shoulder :,-)

you could be making tea in the kitchen and wonwoo will walk up and give you a backhug and gently bite your shoulder so you know that he wants you to look at him and talk to him i'm sobbing thinking about this

and he's so content talking about the smallest things with you :-(

after he bites your shoulder he hums "what're you doing?" and you know he knows what you're doing but you love him so much so you answer "i'm making tea"

he proceeds to ask you lil questions about your tea, your mood, what you plan to do while drinking your tea the correct answer is "hang out with you, wonwoo"

he could actually listen to you talk for hours i'm not even kidding

he's obsessed with the sound of your voice and all the idiosyncrasies in your speech, gestures, etc

he starts picking them up and seventeen is like ?? when did you start saying/doing that ??

and then they meet you and go OHHHHHHHHH that's what it was

after that they will point out every time he acts/speaks like you and he gets a lil embarrassed but also his heart swells because he loves that you've become such a huge part of him <33

he strikes me as the kind of guy who likes to listen to podcasts with you

hear me out

walking around outside, there's a breeze in the air, you're holding hands, sharing headphones, and listening to a podcast about your shared interests

someone hold me i'm having a breakdown

he's so good at comforting you

he becomes so in tune with your emotions that whenever you come to him sad/angry/stressed/etc he is ready

even if he doesn't know exactly what to say, he will listen to you and support you however you need

he'll hold your hands in his while you speak and maintain eye contact so you know you have his full attention

and whenever you cry he will gently wipe your tears away before grabbing tissues for you <3 and sitting with you while you settle yourself <3 and then he'll ask if you want water or anything to make you feel more at ease <3

he's also the absolute best at supporting you through all your successes

he is your BIGGEST fan

he'll always be proud of you and tells you that frequently because he thinks you're so amazing in whatever you do and he wants you to celebrate yourself as much as he celebrates you

he will be walking on cloud nine if you ever compliment a song/performance he's done

like if you like what he's doing that's more than enough for him to be satisfied with it

if he's ever insecure, you telling him all the wonderful things he does makes a world of difference

also so silly with you

he loves making comments that make you laugh

he gets the proudest smile on his face when he makes you laugh

he likes to whisper lil jokes or ad-libs to you when you're hanging out in a group

because he loves when you giggle or even laugh loudly at something he added to the conversation just for you

sometimes he'll make notes of a funny story or a joke he wants to tell you the next time he sees you :,-)

he also will keep notes (mentally or on his phone) of cool things he's learned so he can share them with you !!!

few things make him happier than the look on your face when he tells you something interesting <3

speaking of notes

wonwoo loves leaving handwritten ones for you

if he leaves before you wake up, he's putting a good morning note by your usual mug or your toothbrush so you see his encouraging message as soon as you start your day

if you're going to be apart for a while, he'll write longer notes or hide different little ones around your place so you can get surprise wonwoo words while he's away :-(

any notes you write him are kept safely with his things !!!

he keeps a special one in his wallet or phone case, so you are always with him and he takes it out and reads it when he misses you or is feeling sad even though he has it memorized

if you give him a gift based on the notes you two have written each other throughout your relationship, he WILL cry

he just loves sentiments like that <3 he's a sentimental guy and he likes to show you his love through things with meaning because he thinks it's the best way to convey how special you are to him

wonwoo loves you with everything he's got, and it's clear from the way he interacts with you on a daily basis that you are an important part of his life

no matter what, he's thinking of and caring for you because you make him feel so loved and cared for that he wants nothing more than to make you feel safe and adored <3

sorry i gotta go clutch my crocheted wonwoo plushie to my chest and cry because i love him so dearly :,-( i hope everyone gets the wonwoo they deserve <3

#seventeen #seventeen headcanons #boyfriend!seventeen #seventeen imagines #svt #wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #boyfriend wonwoo #boyfriend!wonwoo #svt wonwoo #svt headcanons #wonwoo headcanons #seventeen au #svt au #jeon wonwoo #sweetkpopmusings

[zoeykallus]

Look, sweetheart, I need Crosshair back with the batch. I need him to just find out about Tech. And I need him to come not only back to the batch, but too his lover (fem reader), and while they are having a rather hot reunion, he suddenly has a breakdown, trying to cope the news that Tech is gone. Reader comforts him, of course, catching him. Crosshair NEEDS a moment like that. Pretty please...

Aloha!

Yet another ancient request that slipped through the cracks. I'm so so so so sorry you had to wait so long for this. But I gotta tell you, I really like the scene that's just now unfolding in my head. Here we go, finally!

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-shot - Don't Let Go Of Me

Warnings: 18+ (?) Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Strongly Suggestive/Sexual Themes/Fluff

_________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_________

"But, where is Tech? Why isn't he chewing my ear off with his latest findings yet?" It quietens down completely in the cockpit of the Marauder. Only the soft hum of the shuttle can be heard. Every single one of you has known from the start, that this question would come sooner or later, but it still hits you like a sledgehammer. Hunter is the only one who manages to meet Crosshair's gaze. "Things went wrong during our first attempt to free you" You see Crosshair slowly frowning critically. As if to brace yourself, you slowly take a deep breath and exhale again, as if it's you hearing this news for the first time, not him. Shrugging his shoulders, the Sniper asks, "So, what does that mean?" "Tech didn't make it back. We'd all be dead without him. Plan 99," Echo says quietly. You see Crosshair swallow. A tremor runs through his hands for a moment, then he is completely motionless again. The Sniper avoids your gaze, not looking at you once. He knows how well you know him, that you can see his every emotion, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and right now it's unsettling him far too much.

Crosshair blinks, his expression stony, he doesn't move a muscle. A long, awkward moment of silence ensues, no one says a word. But then, just as you expected, Crosshair immediately switches from sadness to anger. His gaze could have cut dura steel as he sets his sights on Hunter. His voice isn't loud, but it's cutting as he speaks, "Why? Why the hell did you even try this! I sent you this message to keep you away, to hide, to keep Omega safe!" Hunter grinds his teeth, clearly preoccupied with staying calm. He has enough guilt without Crosshair putting his finger on it. "Tech could still be alive if you'd just done the right thing once," the Sniper snarls, digging his finger into Hunter's chest, "Just one fucking time" You see Hunter grit his teeth, the tension beneath his surface. Echo pushes Crosshair's outstretched arm aside and says, "Hunter was against getting you. Tech and Omega insisted we try" Crossshair gruffly pushes Echo aside and snaps, "Doesn't matter," turning to Hunter he says, "You're the squad leader, you have the final say and you should have decided differently" Hunter growls softly, "I'm painfully aware of that"

Omega, who has been watching quietly until now, says quietly but clearly, "Tech and I insisted, we would never have given in" Crosshair snorts, pushing past Wrecker towards the ramp. "Where are you going?" asks Hunter. " Out of here, I can't breathe in here," the Sniper grumbles and disappears from your sight. Wrecker sighs, "Well, that went as well as expected" You pat Hunter gently on the shoulder and say, "You did the right thing, if it wasn't for Saw none of this would have happened. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't Tech's or Omega's either" Hunter sighs wistfully and says, "Maybe" "Give Crosshair some time, he's just hearing this for the first time, he needs to digest the whole thing before he can deal with it properly," you tell him encouragingly.

Hunter growls, "He should pull himself together sooner or later, we all mourn Tech, he wasn't just his brother" After a sigh he adds, "Keep an eye on him please" You nod and say, "I'll give him some time alone, then I'll follow him"

You wait almost two hours before following Crosshair to the beach. Omega had already wanted to follow him, but you asked her to stay away from him for now and leave you to it. The girl reluctantly agreed, only when Hunter told her to stay in the ship did she let you go alone. As if the weather were adjusting to the general mood, dark clouds gather over Pabuu. In the distance, you hear a low rumble of thunder. Shortly afterward, it starts to rain, and not just a little. You sigh and continue walking towards the beach. As expected, you find Crosshair there, on a rockier part of the beach, with his rifle, firing at makeshift targets consisting of glass bottles and various stones. You don't have to watch him for long to realize that he is anything but at the top of his game. He repeatedly misses shots that he would normally hit at any time, regardless of the weather conditions.

The wind carries his growls, his half-suppressed curses to your ear and you sigh softly. He is completely agitated, no wonder he can't concentrate. As you get closer, you see the trembling in his hands, which he repeatedly clenches into fists, shakes and tries to relax before he takes his next shot. But suddenly he stops. You know he has sensed your presence. His head slowly turns in your direction. As you stand next to him, he growls, "I was wondering what was keeping you" "I thought I'd give you a little space before I ambush you" "Hmm," he grumbles quietly, puts the Firepuncher back in the holster on his back, and sits down on one of the wet rocks nearby. As you try to sit down next to him, he stops you, shaking his head, "The rocks are wet and freezing, you're sure to catch a cold if you sit on them for any length of time" "You sit on them too" He raises his eyebrows and says, "I'm a clone, Kitten, besides, I have my armor on, I don't get sick easily"

With a sigh, you put your hands in your jacket pockets. Your clothes are already soaked, you don't think it really matters whether you sit down on the cold stone or not, but you stand still. Somehow you had imagined the reunion between you two to be different. You know that he is not the type for exuberant emotional exchanges, but still. The euphoria you felt when you realized he was back, which you actually still feel, you wish you could see some of it in him. At the moment, you're not quite sure where you both stand. You don't quite know if he wants to hear it, but you say it anyway, "I missed you" He looks up at you from his seated position, his gaze strangely scrutinizing, then his eyes wander back to the horizon over the sea in the distance. "Not as much as I missed you," he mumbles softly, so softly that his words are almost drowned out by the sound of the rain. You're so surprised you don't know what to reply, but maybe no response is necessary for now. Crosshair licks his lips, wipes rainwater from his face, and looks up at you again.

"Is there a place here where we can be alone and undisturbed?" "We are alone" Crosshair rolls his eyes and says, "No we're not, Omega is sneaking around back there, behind the rocks" You sigh, turn around and shout, "Omega, go back to the ship!" "How did you see me?" the girl shouts back in disbelief. "I didn't. Please go back to Hunter, I have everything under control here" After Omega leaves, Crosshair looks at you, a barely noticeable smirk at the corner of his mouth. "So you have everything under control here?" You shrug your shoulders. "More or less." He chuckles. "Now is there somewhere we can be undisturbed and maybe get out of the rain?" the Sniper asks.

Crosshair takes off the Firepuncher, removes his gloves and takes off his chest plate as he looks around. "So this is where you live now?" "When we're not traveling, yes" The little cottage is nothing particularly meaningful, you don't actually spend much time here, there's hardly any decoration or features worth mentioning. But he does notice one thing. You follow his gaze as you notice that it lingers in one place for a long time. There's a target hanging at the head of your bed. "You really still have that thing?" He steps closer to the bed, his fingers gliding over the burn holes from blaster shots in the target hanging above it, over the initials you both carved into it after your first training session together. He laughs softly and says, "You were as happy as a baby when you got to use the Firepuncher" "I remember," you reply quietly.

You swallow and finally explain, still quietly, "When I realized you weren't coming back, that you were staying with the Empire, I dug out the target from my old stuff and hung it up. Most of our things were destroyed on Kamino, so I didn't have any pictures or anything of you. It was just my way of remembering you and dealing with the fact that you were gone" He sighs softly, gazing at the strange decoration above your bed for quite a while before turning to you. "I never left you" "Yes, you very much did. You knew I couldn't follow you on your path with the Empire, if only because of my political past. When you decided to stay there, you left me." He shakes his head and sighs again. "It's not that simple" You shrug your shoulders impatiently, you don't want to argue right now, not at all. "Does it matter? I don't expect an apology or an explanation. You did what you thought was right at the time, and at some point you realized it was wrong. These things happen," you say, peeling yourself out of your completely soaked jacket and throwing it on the floor.

"You just let me off the hook like that? I'd be pissed if I were you" You laugh humorlessly, "Yeah, I know you hold grudges" Crosshair comes over with a sigh and picks up your jacket from the floor. "Don't you have a hamper?" You laugh again. "Still such a neat freak? No, I don't, I don't spend too much time here" With another sigh, Crosshair lets the jacket fall to the floor again. "You're completely soaked," he notes. "It's raining," you say dryly. You're only wearing a tank top, which is also soaked, and a pair of shorts under your jacket. His fingers graze your shoulders, which immediately makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Your skin is all chilled out, take off the rest of your wet clothes"

You laugh softly and say, "You just want to see me naked" He nods and admits, "That too, yes. But you're really chilled out." Crosshair watches you unabashedly as you take off the rest of your clothes, including your underwear, and finally stand naked in front of him. He takes a deep breath and finally says, "It's been a long time since I've seen anything so beautiful" The next moment your lips meet, they are as soft and warm as you remember them. The moment as you get closer, as his face approaches yours, is somehow a blur, as if it never happened, as if his lips had simply always been on yours. You help Crosshair out of his armor and blacks, the pieces flying carelessly to the floor on your way to bed. You roll through the sheets, hands and lips everywhere. If you're not mistaken, you can feel one of his hands shaking occasionally, but you're not really in a position to pay much attention to it at the moment. His fingers trail down your body, as do his lips, reaching for your body, pressing against you, naked and ravenous. Crosshair seems so greedy, almost desperate, as he caresses you, moaning under your every touch as if it's the first time anyone has touched him like this.

He's honest with you, direct. "It's been a long time since I've been able to relieve myself, I don't know how long I can last today" Your lips graze along his lower jaw and elicit an excited sigh. "You know that doesn't matter to me, being this intimate with you is enough for me" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but then says, "I know, but you also know that it matters to me that you get what you need. But right now... I just don't know how long this will last, and I need you now, your body, your closeness" You feel his hard cock twitch as it rests on your pubic area and open your thighs a little wider. "You're safe here, Crosshair, I love you. Come here, melt into me" The look he gives you is enough, he doesn't need to say the words back, the relief, the gratitude, the depth of affection in those otherwise serious eyes is worth a thousand words.

As he enters your body, his hard length stretching and filling your wet heat, you let out a deep, relieved sigh from your lungs. You've missed this feeling so much. It's strange, you feel much less arousal at the moment, more deep relief, a strange euphoria and affection. You smile rapturously as Crosshair climaxes, as expected, after a relatively short time and a few intense thrusts into your pussy. The sound that leaves his throat is both a moan and a whimper, it sounds relieved, surprised and in a strange way... desperate. Concerned, you gently stroke his bare back with your fingertips. He remains lying on top of you, most of his weight resting on his forearms, his head buried in the hollow between your head and shoulder. Then you feel it. A slight tremor goes through his upper body, especially through his shoulders, his breathing is heavy, irregular. A quiet sob, half smothered by your neck and the pillow. Holy shit, is all you can think right now. Crosshair has shown himself vulnerable to you before, in his, odd, often reluctant way, but this is new.

Silently, you draw gentle, soothing circles on his back while his tears wet your neck. There are no correct words now, you realize, this is something that needs to come out of him, uncommented. You don't know how much time has passed, maybe an hour or two. Crosshair is getting heavier on you. You don't want to bother him, don't want to push him away, but slowly you can barely breathe. "Cross," you say softly, a little breathlessly, "I can barely catch my breath" He straightens up with such a sudden jolt that you startle a little. "Sorry," he mumbles, hastily wipes his still tear-streaked face and starts to get dressed. His eyes are all red and swollen, you've never seen him like this before. Quietly, secretly, your heart breaks at the sight. You wish you could do something, but you know you can't force your care on him, that's not how Crosshair works. You have to offer him opportunities that he can take on his own terms and as he feels. "There's no need to apologize," you say gently. Crosshair sighs softly, "I know it's not particularly romantic to just leave after what we just did, but I need some fresh air, alone"

So he withdraws, again. Actually, you're not surprised. A relationship with Crosshair is sometimes a bit like a game of tug-of-war or patience. You stifle a sigh and continue to smile at him. "That's okay. You know where to find me whenever you need me." Crosshair sighs in relief, he didn't really expect you to make a scene. But the circumstances are a little different compared to normal, and basically he couldn't have blamed you if you'd been angry that he wanted to leave, he's aware of that. "Thank you," he says quietly, almost in a whisper, before opening the door and walking out into the rain. With a sigh, you go into the bathroom, clean yourself up and finally lie back in bed when there is a sudden knock at the door. "Who is it?" The door opens very slowly and Crosshair sticks his head in. "Cross?" you ask in surprise. "Yeah... I've changed my mind," he says a little uncertainly, entering the room and closing the door behind him again, "I don't think I want to be alone after all, I've been alone long enough, and I feel better with you."

Your eyes widen in surprise, but then you give him a warm smile. Crosshair clears his throat a little awkwardly and asks, "Would you mind if I stayed the night?" Your smile widens, and you say, "You know very well that you can stay here every night for all I care" A smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth. You reach out to him and Crosshair hurriedly takes off his gear, crawls under the covers and into your arms, wrapping his own arms around your body. With a deep sigh of relief, he leans his head against your chest and whispers so softly it's almost not even a whisper anymore, "I love you, don't let go of me" At the same volume, you whisper back, "Never" and feel him wrap his arms a little tighter around you.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

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@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

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@padawancat97

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@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

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@clonelovr

#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #sw tbb #bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #commander crosshair #crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair tbb #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch crosshair #omega #hunter #tech #bad batch tech #tbb tech #hurt/comfort #crosshair x reader hurt/comfort #wrecker #echo #bad batch echo #pabuu #suggestive

[summerssover]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐔𝐬 ⊹ ִֶָ ❲ 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦!𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬❳

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘, in which you save your relationship with chris because of his brothers trying to break you up

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, chris x toxic!reader, chris x poc!reader

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, angst, language, crying, manipulation, arguing

▐ ❝ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬 ❞

𓏲 🎀🎱 𓂃 ✦ 💒

“yo, quick question”, chris announced to get his brothers attention.

nick and matt turned their heads towards chris, noticing his distraught facial expression, almost instantly sending them into a worry as well.

nick was the first to speak up, “what’s up”

“um”, chris scratched the back of his neck, looking for words that couldn’t make him sound like a complete idiot. “could yall come look at this”

as chris held up his phone the two triplets got up from where they’d normally lounge on the couch to get a closer view of his phone. chris watched in anticipation while his older brothers eyes scanned through the heated text messages between him and his girlfriend, frightened at what they’re reaction might be.

“wow”, was all matt said and nick followed with a simple “hmm”, causing chris to sigh and drag his hands down his face.

“am i cooked or what?”

matt nor nick knew what to tell the boy. this wasn’t the first time chris would come to them for advice, in fact this wasn’t even the tenth time. between you and chris they couldn’t tell who was more of the problem here, you would vent to nick about chris, chris would try to vent to nick but gets upset when nick already knows your side, so goes to matt only to find out that nick’s already told him too, and it’s the same shit every other week.

“i don’t know, just call her or something, that usually works”, nick patted his brother’s shoulder and went back to whatever was on the tv at the time.

matt followed nicks actions before stating, “yea, she’ll probably be over here in a little bit anyways”

“what so you guys don’t care either, how the fuck does anyone except a relationship to work if no one seems to care but me”, chris raised his voice as the blood started to rush within him. no matter who it was, he felt like all anyone ever did was brush him to the side and disregard anything he had to say. you were the only person who didn’t make him feel that way, even his brother did it from time to time but he knew he could always count on you to treat him like he was special. at least he thought he could. both brothers stared, appalled at the words that left chris’s mouth.

“sorry? since when were me and matt in a relationship with you guys”, nick exclaimed.

“you know what i mean”

“do you know what he means?”, matt budded in. he was so fed up with all of this, it was actually his breaking point. “i don’t even know why you’re still putting up with this shit, are you not tried?”

“tired of what?” chris looked at matt then to nick for some form of help as to what was going on now.

“shut the fuck up matt”, nick let out a breath while thinking of the right thing to say to their mess of a brother right now.

“listen we absolutely adore yn, she’s one of our closest friends, love her very dearly. we also love that you were able to find someone but like don’t you see the pattern that’s going on here”

he paused for another moment to see if chris was catching on, but to his dismay he wasn’t so he kept going. “how does all this make you feel, how is she making you feel right now?”

“not good—”, nick cut chris of before he could finish his full thought. “not good right, and i’m almost entirely sure that this is not the first time she’s made you feel like this, i’m pretty sure yn feels the same, are you picking up on what i’m saying?”

chris knew exactly what nick was saying he just didn’t want to believe it and he definitely wasn’t going to say it out loud because that would make it true. the more he thought the faster his heart went

“matt what do you think about this”, chris breathed out.

he hesitated before responding. “i don’t think you guys are the best for each other”

“jesus matt”, nick interrupts at matt’s bluntness.

“what, i’m done telling him what he wants to hear”, he turns back to chris and grabs his shoulder, “you guys have been toxic for a while now and it’s only been getting worse, open your fucking eyes kid”

chris just sat there. he could bring himself to say anything, let alone what to think, so he got up and left. once slamming the door he immediately went to your contact, pacing around his room waiting for you to answer. you did on the fifth ring.

“hello”

now that he’d finally got you on the other line he realized that he didn’t even think about what he was going to say, what was the purpose of calling you? “hey”

his voice came out way more wobbly than he expected, like he’d already been crying.

“you feel better now?” you teased.

chris let out a breath before speaking, “yea, can you just please come over here”

“yea, i’m on my way baby”

three beeps sounded from his phone, he threw it on his bed and continued to pace around, thinking about what to say to you. he didn’t want to start a fight but there were things that just had to be discussed. a huge part of him wanted to forget the whole situation and cuddle you once you walked through that door like he normally would in time like this. before he knew it a text appeared on his phone saying that you finally arrived. he didn’t bother to go get you.

you greeted matt and nick as you walked through their door but didn’t stop for small talk, they didn’t expect you to anyways. as you approached the door small sniffing could be heard and once it opened you were met with chris sitting on his bed with his head in his hands causing you to frown. you pulled his arm away and held his head against your stomach.

“what’s the matter baby, you alright?” you spoke softly.

he quickly prepared for what he was about to do next. “we just need to talk for a little”. chris pulled you down to sit on his left thigh so you were facing him.

you wiped the few tears from his cheeks. “about what?”

“about us”. he started to rub your thigh, wanting to provide you with some sort of comfort at the topic.

“oh, ok”

chris decided that the best way to get this over with was to rip the bandage off. “what do you think about our relationship?”

“um we’re.. good, we have our moments from time to time but we always come back”. you defended while running your fingers through the back of his head then placing a soft kiss in his hair.

there was a long wave of loud silence. “nick says we make each other feel bad and matt agrees, he says we’re not good together and this has been going on for longer than we thought. i don’t want to break up with you, but i don’t want to disappoint them and—” he cut himself off from word vomiting while running his fingers through his own hair. 

after a long pause chris stuttering up again, “i don’t know what to do i just want us to be okay”. he was hoping that at least one of you would be the sane one in the conversation but you were just has delusional has he was.

“ok, woah that was a lot to dump on me, are you kidding right now?” you laughed nervously in denial.

“i’m being serious yn, they think we’re toxic” he raised his voice a little as anger stared to bubble up in him.

you got off of his lap and stood in front of him. “what the fuck are you saying chris, your gonna’ let the fate of our relationship be in the hands of your brothers? your a grown ass man babe” you matched his energy plus adding a little of your own.

“they have a point though, we barely see each other so you get all passive and aggressive, i try to fix it by making more time for you and you don’t care, then we’ll make up, but nothing ever changes, sounds familiar?”

“because you don’t want to, what type of boyfriend forces themselves to spend time with their girlfriend and you’ve been so consumed with la that i was pretty sure this relationship was the last thing you thought about” all of this was far too much for chris. so much information was just fed to him in such a short amount of time and the more he dig the deeper it got.

his eyes squinted, “where is this coming from?”

“your actions, i’m not the type of person to make anyone be with me, i just can’t imagine not being with you, so i stay”

and just like that the whole thing was flipped on chris. he couldn’t even lie to himself, he felt terrible, the last thing he ever wanted to do was make you feel like you were anything but the most important person in his life, he felt selfish, narcissistic even. how could he put himself in your shoes then paint you out to be a villain? you’ve known each other since sophomore year and you’ve been together since that summer with no problem till now. chris was almost sure he was the problem.

“i can’t imagine not being with you either, i don’t ever want that to happen and i’m so, so sorry for pushing you to the side, i guess i was so scared of you doing it to me that i did it first, i’m sorry” chris practically begged for forgiveness, eating right out of the palm of your hand, it was too good, he was so gullible.

you brought him into your warm embrace, sitting back on your designated area in his lap. “it’s alright sweet boy i forgive you, and don’t listen to your brothers okay?, what we have stays between us and we’ll be better this time. i’m glad we had this talk” you placed a tender kiss on his lips followed by another.

“me too” chris mumbled before connecting your lips again. “are you going to let me make it up to you mama?”

“of course pa”

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ      ❪  𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚁'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴  ❫  ✩₊˚.  ◛ ·˚ ༘ ᝰ

⁀➷┊ ‧₊˚. definitely making a part two, YOU, MATT, AND NICK ARE ABOUT TO FIGHT

idk i think the way chris can’t express his feelings is so cute to me

tell me what you thought girl don’t forget to send me your request in my inbox

taglist- @worldlxvlys (COMMENT TO BE A PART OF THE TAGLIST???)

#black writers #chris sturniolo x black reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #nathan doe x reader #x black reader #chris sturniolo smut #summersover #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo angst #angst #sturniolo triplets #Spotify

[dmitriene]

— chris redfield headcanons◞♡

summary: headcanons of chris redfield when he finally returns from a long mission to you, his beloved girl. content: bf! chris redfield x fem! reader tags: fluff, comfort, nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v, receiving-giving oral, fingering, marking, domestic chris. please enjoy your reading) 🎐 (18+ warning)

• chris redfield who is absent quite often due to his work and most of the time you are alone in your joint apartment.

• chris redfield who sincerely worries about this situation and all his thoughts are filled with only reflections on how you feel when you are alone.

• chris redfield who will urge you to text him and send him pictures about what you are doing and how your day is going, and even if he does not have time to review, he still cares.

• chris redfield who calls you immediately, once he knows that his work is over and he can safely return home, even if there are wounds on him that need to be treated — the most important thing is to hear your voice after a long time and look at every message.

• chris redfield that is incredibly nervous all the way home, which seems rather strange for such a reserved and firm man like him, but the mere thought that he will soon see you makes him constantly fidget nervously on the spot.

• chris redfield that comes home either in the early morning or late at night, and in both moments he literally melts from how charming you look in your sleepy state and his t shirt while standingon the doorstep.

• chris redfield who watching your eyes go out of sleep instantly when you notice how shabby and tired he looks and that puts the biggest smile on his face.

• chris redfield that gives you complete control over him, from the moment you take off his outerwear to the moment you slowly undress him in the bathroom while the tub is running hot.

• chris redfield whose muscles completely relax when he plunges into hot water and sits in the bathroom, half liddedly watching you twirl around in search of the right funds so you could treat your boyfriend properly.

• chris redfield who lets out soft growls while you massage his scalp and shoulders while you take your time to wash him, your touch is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time away while he murmuring softly, making you giggle — “You are so good to me, hun”

• chris redfield whose eyes get warmer when he sees you sitting on the edge of the bed and gently patting your knees with a warm smile on your face, while a first aid kit lies not far from you, ready to patch up his minor wounds.

• chris redfield who lays his head on your lap and enjoys the way you caress small scratches on his face while you tending to them, because you know that he refused medical help due to the fact that he wanted to get home to you faster.

• chris redfield who tries to get as few injuries as possible so that you don't have to mess with them for too long, or worse, see tears in your charming eyes because you are worried about his well being too much.

• chris redfield that refusing to let you out of his tight hugs when you put everything back in place and return to your bed, trapped between his strong muscular arms and warm body.

• chris redfield that covering your face with butterfly kisses that expressing all his gratitude and love as he holds you as close and tight as possible, making your face sink into his chest until you both fall asleep.

• chris redfield that covering every inch of your skin in hickeys and bites, the feel of his lips and tongue after a long time makes you flinch and whine under him.

• chris redfield whose fluttering brush of lips and teeth move from your neck to your thighs, teasing the thin skin that are dangerously close to your clothed clit, which has already left a wet spot on your panties in anticipation.

• chris redfield who with a smile on his lips pulls off the wet panties from you to replace them with his lips, spreading your labia with his tongue and starting slow caresses.

• chris redfield who speeds up as soon as he hears you whine and mewl, wanting more and he is happy to do everything for you, gradually penetrating deeper with his tongue and rubbing a small pea with his fingers while tracing small and soothing patterns.

• chris redfield from whose lips pouring the most tender praises and sweet words addressed in your direction, flying from his lips either in the form of a growl, or barely audible due to the inability to form words due to the spiraling breath.

• chris redfield kissing your clit after you orgasm, covering his lips and chin with his arousal while he gently traces patterns on your thighs, soothing.

• chris redfield barely holding back his moans when you decide to pay him back, teasingly running your finger over his bare and hard cock as he oozes precum.

• chris redfield shuddering and jerking his hips forward as he feels you rubbing his precum all over his urethra and gradually rubbing it along his impressive length.

• chris redfield that biting his lip and asking you not to stop when you actively begin to move your hand in smooth movements, stroking his urethra in parallel and deliberately catching it with your thumb, making him whisper — “Don't - d-don't stop, sweetheart”

• chris redfield that throwing his head back as you replace your hand with your puffy lips, smearing viscous saliva over smooth skin and clinging to the outline of the veins before thrusting deeper on his cock with your throat.

• chris redfield who is stroking your head as you suck your cheeks in, feeling tears well up in your eyes from the force of the pressure as his cock throbs in the hot inside of your mouth while he whispering sweet little praises for you.

• chris redfield that grunting once he feeling himself getting close to orgasm and gently squeezing your shoulder, trying to focus on your face as you bobbing your head up and down faster, causing him to mutter — “Honey, y-you don't need to - fuckgh!”

• chris redfield that watching you swallow all the sticky hot mess of his cum down your throat while he looking at you with dilated pupils and eyes full of love, as he leans in and kisses you softly on the lips.

• chris redfield that laying you down on the silk sheets of the bed like the most fragile figurine, enjoying your charming look and how fragile you seem in comparison to his broad body.

• chris redfield that gently holding your hips as he carefully slams your sopping cunt millimeter by millimeter onto his cock, enjoying every sweet moan and whine from your swollen pink lips.

• chris redfield who is showing maximum comfort and care after your sex, carefully carrying you to the bathroom and caring for you even more actively than you for him, whispering warmly in your ear — “Let me take care of you, hm? You do so good for me every time..”

© dmitriene - my masterlist

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.

reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

#chris redfeild x reader #chris redfield #chris redfield x you #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield fluff #chris redfield headcanons #resident evil #[ ✒️july writing ]

[ilovejoo]

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

physical touch; enhypen

word count: 1.6k warnings: n/a? gn!reader a/n: wrote this instead of my essay bc enha + physical touch = <3

masterlist!

heeseung

patting your head, ruffling your hair, etc

he thinks you're adorable. whenever you guys make eye contact, he can't help but smile before ruffling your hair and looking away. whenever he walks by you, he gives you a pat on the head to make his presence known. when you guys are laying in bed together, he will lazily run his hands in your hair in his sleepy stage- eyes closed, both relaxed. you groan every time he does this, saying he's messing your hair up, but you secretly love it.

running his thumb over yours when you hold hands

the pad of his thumb caresses over your hand every time you guys are holding hands. the strokes bring you somewhat of a comfort, and it's a sweet way you guys are interacting really subtly. he does this because he loves the feeling of having you with him, the feeling of your hand in his. no words, just love expressed through small gestures of physical contact.

rests his head in your lap

though he's the oldest in enhypen, he's the youngest in his family, which i feel exposes itself through your relationship. he lies in your lap and looks at you with the cutest smile that makes you fold. he'll fall asleep here, he'll go on his phone here, he'll tell you all the gossip while you stroke his hair here: your lap is his favorite place to be.

jay

back hugs

hes obsessed with protecting every bit of you, meaning that he loves making you feel safe covered in his arms. when you sit on his lap, his arms are tightly around your body. when you're standing around, something (jay) snakes around you and keeps you company from behind, asking questions about what you're doing. when you're cooking at the counter, he will stand behind you, bending so close that you feel the warmth of his breath on your neck (AHH)

forehead kisses

a quick kiss before he leaves for all his schedules of the day, a kiss when he wakes up and sees you looking all cute in the corner, a kiss as a greeting when he sees you sitting alone: he loves forehead kisses. he does it almost like a traditional type of thing: it's not a normal day without a forehead kiss from jay.

rubbing your thigh

omfg. his hand is always on your thigh when you guys sit next to one another. it just rests there all the time, occasionally rubbing it from time to time, sometimes drumming a little beat with his fingers. he also rests his hand on your thigh worried when he notices that you're nervous and your leg is bouncing uncontrollably. it does calm you down, but on the other hand, it can also make you flustered.

jake

massaging your shoulders

he always wants you to be comfortable & is actually happy to get rid of the knots in your back, shoulders, etc.. after a stressful day, he pulls you in by the wrist and brings you to sit in front of him so he can start messaging you. even though you should be the one relaxing, he ends up relaxing even more, feeling his hands all over you and your skin (🤭). he definitely watches youtube tutorials on how to give better massages just for you.

hanging his arm around you at all times

whether you guys are sitting together or standing together, jake's arm is always around you. it's almost like you were made right to fit into the space between his side and his outstretched arm. he either hangs his arm around your shoulder or hooks it on your waist. his hand rubs on you whom he's holding; this shared warmth gives him comfort, and he loves having you right by his side.

biting you (lovingly)

like that one ending fairy where he acts like a dog, he follows through and tends to bite you at random times during the day. you guys are resting on the couch? he bites your shoulder. you're trying to feed him a cookie? he bites the cookie and also bites your finger. does he growl when he does it? sometimes. it's just cuteness aggression, according to him.

sunghoon

tracing shapes on your skin

he loves tracing shapes all over you, like your hands, the bottom of your wrists, your back.. it gives him something to do with his hands instead of just sitting there awkwardly staring into space. he'll write messages like "ily", hearts, smiley faces.. OR he'll draw little sad faces on purpose just so you ask him "what's wrong :(" and he can tell u everything all pouty.

drying your hair for you

after you shower, sometimes you lack the energy to fully dry your hair, and instead you just go to sleep. sunghoon always points out that you can catch a cold; when you shrug in response, he rolls his eyes, brings out a towel and a hairdryer, and motions for you to sit in front of him. he makes sure the hot air isn't burning you, his hands aren't pulling on your hair and hurting you, and makes sure you're comfortable.

squeezing your hand

he squeezes your hand as a reminder that he is still there, which he is literally always holding every second of the day. when in stressful situations, he squeezes your hand either to comfort you or gain comfort himself. he learns a teeny bit of morse code: two short squeezes followed by one short, one long, and two short, which is then followed by one long, one short, and two long. "ily."

sunoo

playfully hitting you, leaning into you whenever he laughs

he's always right next to you, especially in a group setting. you better be prepared for a night full of playful arm slapping, head leaning- all the physical touch coming. sunoo is always laughing, and whenever he laughs, he does something with his hands, whether this is pointing at whoever made a joke, slapping the person next to him, or completely falling onto someone. when you guys are together, his hands always land on you. you don't mind at all: watching his eyes sparkle as he leans into when he laughs- heaven.

intertwining pinkies

rather than just holding hands, you two opt for a different type of constant contact: interlocking pinkies. it's just a cute way for you guys to always be connected, like a forever pinky promise that you guys will always be together. he loves swinging your arm around as well while walking when you guys are together.

leaning on your shoulder

he always leans on your shoulder on the couch, in long (or even short) car rides, on a park bench... basically every chance he gets. sometimes he falls asleep, and other times, he just enjoys the contact and your presence. he gets extra happy when you lean on him back.

jungwon

playing with your clothes or accessories

even in moments of silence, he always wants to be connected with you. when you guys are on your phones handling your separate business, one of his hands will always be playing with something of yours. when you guys are walking, you'll feel a little rustle on your arm: it's him playing with your sleeve. he messes with the ends of your shirt, like making little folds in it over and over, twisting it into little flower-shaped twists. if you wear jewelry he's definitely running his hands over the chains and twirling them constantly.

wiping your tears

like that clip of him wiping away sunoo's tears, he wipes your tears away whenever you cry. he hates seeing you sad, and his way of making your tears go away is literally making your tears go away. his thumb comes and swipes all of your tears away, or sometimes he will kiss them off your face like a cutie. he succeeds though- it does make you feel better.

wiping crumbs off your lips, taking off a stray eyelash, etc

it never fails to give you butterflies. the close proximity of his face, his focused expression, his fingers on your cheek: he probably doesn't know the effect he has on you, because in his eyes he's just doing something nice for you, taking care of you by removing something on your face.

niki

tangling limbs with you

oh man. you and him become one. one body. you guys share limbs atp. i've talked about this before but he sleeps with his leges and arms wrapped around you. his weight is always on yours, even if you complain about it: it's your personal weighted blanket. when you guys are sitting next to each other, he LINKS LEGS. LMFAO. he even intertwines fingers and makes you use your free hand to get things for the both of you.

the tightest hugs ever

he gives the kind of hugs that feel like he's trying to suffocate you. you always tell him that you aren't going anywhere, but he'll spin you around and toss you from side to side during every hug. he always laughs as you complain that you're getting dizzy, and he'll pretend to let go and move on before quickly sucking you back up in his arms.

playing footsies

he will make an effort to create a foot war the second he realizes your foot is in front of his. he kicks your foot and gets all giggly when you kick his back. it doesn't even have to be under the table; even when you guys are sitting next to each other with your feet outstretched, he will suddenly attack your toes. he also unties your shoelaces all the time. odd? but cute.

---

here's my masterlist!

taglist! send an ask to be added: @jaysbiceps

#! writing #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen scenarios #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #sunghoon x reader #jake x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #niki x reader #heeseung x yn #jay x yn #jake x yn #sunghoon x yn #sunoo x yn #jungwon x yn #niki x yn #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions

[poge-life]

can you do a who's most likely to interview between drew and reader alone not being with the other where they are in a secret relationship but after the interview it’s so clear that’s they’re lover

I did change this a little bit to fit what I had in mind but I’m hoping this is what you had in mind!

Since Season 3 came out, you guys had been in back-to-back interviews. You will say, these ones had been a lot more interesting than the ones you guys had done before. You and Drew both had one today for Vanity Fair on ‘Who’s most likely’ and you would be doing them together. You two had decided to show up together, considering it would have been a waste of time driving separately when you were going to the same place.

You guys had been together for a while now and had done a pretty good job at hiding it. Obviously, your friends knew. There was no point in hiding it from the people you were with every day and they were your biggest supporters.

Giving Drew a peck on the lips, you both got out of the car and made your way into the building. After checking in, they showed you to where the interview would be. The setup was like usual; a couch in front of the table, with a both filled with, what you assumed where the questions.

The makeup team came by to do any touch ups you both would need before they started.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n)” You smiled at the camera once they signaled they started rolling and it took Drew a second to realize what was going on, as he was looking at you. You nudged his knee with yours and he seemed to realize what was going on, “And I’m Drew Starkey.”

“And we’re going to be doing ‘who’s most likely’ on the OBX cast with Vanity Fair.” You finished, reaching for the bowl. Pulling out the first question, you couldn’t help but laugh as your answer immediately popped into your head, “Who’s most likely to have their own reality show?”

“You know, I wanna see what Rudy does when we’re not together.” Drew answered, turning to look at you, “He’s just so laidback and care free about everything. And he’s from Alaska so I wanna see how he lives.”

You nodded in agreement before throwing the slip of paper onto the table, “I wanna see Maddy in a reality show. Not just about her. I wanna see her on Big Brother. I feel like she would be great on there.”

Drew snapped his fingers at you as a new thought popped into his head, “I wanna see you on Survivor. You have zero survival skills.”

You gave him an ‘are you serious’ look, “Do I need to bring up the camping trip we went on with Nick a couple years ago?”

Drew straightened up at the mention of the trip as he reached for a slip, turning to face the camera, “Moving on! Who is most likely to ditch their phone and go back to a flip phone?”

You brought your hand above the two of you and pointed down at Drew, “He barely knows where his phone is 90% of the time. Saves him a couple of bucks on a bill.”

Drew held no argument as he agreed with you, “I respond to messages in my head a lot and just kind of forget to actually reply. I’m more of a ‘in the moment’ kind of guy, so I don’t use my phone a lot.”

“Because you’re a grandpa and barely know how to use your phone.” You teased, patting his cheek. Drew rolled his eyes at you, bringing your hand down to his lap. Quickly remembering you were on camera, you brought your hand back to the bowl and pulled out the next slip, “who is most likely to get drunk at a bottomless mimosa brunch?”

You pointed to yourself as did Drew, causing you to crumple up the slip and throw it at him, “Not just me! Maddy too!”

Drew looked over at the camera with a grin on his face, “her and Maddy aren’t allowed to be alone whenever there’s a bar. Especially with any kind of wine.”

“Okay, mr ‘drunk of a glass of wine’” You teased, holding out to the bowl to him. Drew just mocked you as he read the next question, “Most likely to get married in Vegas?���

You both looked at each other in thought. Honestly, you could see any one of your friends doing this but you didn’t know just who to pick.

“This could go any way, really,” you said, tapping your chin, “we’re all impulsive but I don’t think we’re that impulsive.”

“If I had to pick any of them, I would say Chase,” Drew answered, “he definitely does a lot of spur of the moment decisions and I feel like if he was really up for it, he’d go get married in Vegas.”

You had a small smile on your face as you watched Drew run his hand through his hair. At this point, you didn’t care if anyone found out about you guys. You loved Drew and hated that you both had to hide it. You saw how the fans tore into Rudy and Elaine and how much shit Maddy and Chase got when they were together. You also saw what happened when the rumors about him and Odessa started. They just tore her to pieces.

You both were content with just your family and friends knowing about you two. But, sometimes, you just wanted to show him off for everyone to see how much you cared about him and how good he was to you. Drew noticed you weren’t paying attention and placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb just under the hem of your skirt, “You okay?”

You just nodded your head, giving him a smile as you reached for a new question.

Yeah, you were great.

OBXFAN20: Okay, no one can tell me they’re not dating after watching the vanity fair interview

Fan90: Did you see how he grabbed her thigh? I would have died 😭

(Y/c/n)lover: The way she just sat and smiled at him has me 100% convinced her and Drew are dating

#outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagines #outer banks imagines #rafe cameron imagine #obx #rafe obx #outer banks imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #obx rafe cameron #obx rafe #obx3 #outer banks season three

[homocidal-invader]

Professor Membrane: Good or Bad Father?

I've decided to scientifically argue weather or not Professor Membrane from Invader Zim father of Dib Membrane and gasoline the other one by going through EVERY EPISODE of Invader Zim (that he appears in) and making a point counter of every good and bad action he does.

Episode 1 The Nightmare Begins Ignores Dib -1 point

Episode 2B NanoZim Just gives him the tiny ship when he needs help even though what he says is insane. Proffy doesn't even call him insane just tells him to run along + 1 point

Episode 3A Parent Teacher Night He tried to show up for the meeting,,, even if it resulted in the lab exploding. + 1 dad point - 1 scientist point

Episode 6B Battle Dib Didn't recognize his son - 1 point Too hard to contact - 1 point Gave Dib the permission slip + 1 point

Episode 8B Bad Bad Rubber Piggy MADE HIS SON INTO A COOL ASS BATTLE ROBOT TO PREVENT HIM FROM DYING + 1 point

10B Bloatys Pizza Hog Only one annual family night out - 1 point Lets Gaz choose wherever she wants + 1 point Made sure Dib also came + 1 point If Dib doesn't show up, he'll put it off for next year - 1 point 12B Game Slave 2 One of the best lines in the show + 1 point

13 Battle of the Planets Told his son aliens were fake and said he had a big head as a baby. The iconic line "my poor insane son" debuts this episode. - 1 point

14 Halloween Spectacular of Spooky Doom said "It was only a matter of time" for Dib going to HIS INSANE ASYLUM THAT HE OWNS. - 1 point Did not consider Dib's opinion for a second. - 1 point Sent Dib to the asylum. For the rest of his life. - 1 point And an extra bad point, because that's really bad, and the worst thing he's done in the show and what most people remember him for. - 1 point Another bad point for apparently experimenting on baby Dib so much he has subconscious trauma over it. - 1 point

15B Future Dib Neglects his children (hasn't shown up for weeks) - 1 point However he makes prerecorded messages for them so he's not totally abandoning them. + 1 point Inviting his kids to the infinite energy thingy. + 1 point Pat Gaz on the head + 1 point Noticed Dib was missing immedietely + 1 point He told Gaz to make sure Dib doesn't do anything embarrassing. - 1 point Waited for his kids despite jeers from the audience + 1 point DOESN'T GIVE EVERYONE PERPETUAL ENERGY BECAUSE THEY DISRESPECTED HIS KIDS + 1 dad point - 1 scientist point Membrane doesn't realize the robot dib is fake - 1 point

18B The Sad Sad Tale of Chickenfoot Invasion of privacy by letting randoms in the house. - 1 point Calls his son insane to everyone there. - 1 point Insisting what his son's future is as I'm assuming he does that a lot offscreen. - 1 point Not defending Dib when everyone starts laughing at him - 1 point

20 Tak The Hideous New Girl Trying to make friends with Dib's friend :) + 1 point

21 Backseat Drivers from Beyond the Stars Tells Gaz to be nice to his brother and helps her out with her problem. + 1 point Calls Dib insane behind his back - 1 point

23b Dibship Rising He LIED about the can of beans wiping out ALL HUMAN LIFE - 1 point?

25 Gaz Taster of Pork Always keeps the fridge stocked with good food + 1 point Stopped what he was doing immedietely to help Gaz with her problem + 1 point Put his kid on public TV without consent - 1 point Turned his kid into an experiment - 1 point Makes his children have to do an escape sequence at all - 1 point Apologizes + 1 point

27 The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever Trusted Dib with his anti-santa arsenal + 1 point

DELETED EPISODES!

Mopiness of Doom Listened to Dib + 1 point Told Dib to give up on his dreams - 1 point Very encouraging to Dib + 1 point Constantly checking in on Dib + 1 point Very tuned into Dib's emotions and be able to tell when something is bothering him + 1 point Professor Membrane's love is conditional - 1 point Complaining about Dib to Gaz - 1 point

10 Minutes to Doom Did not recognize his son - 1 point Did not want to get involved with Dib's fashion matters - 1 point Deciding to take a look anyways + 1 point Didn't to his son and now insisting that they have to stop him - 1 point

Day of Da Spookies Calls his son insane - 1 point Stopping work to help him anyways + 1 point

TOTAL SCORE

Good Points - 25 Bad Points - 30

ENTER THE FLORPUS

Making his kids a food robot + 1 point Waiting for Dib + 1 point Calling his son insane to Gaz - 1 point Telling Gaz to be supportive, even using metaphors + 1 point BEHOLD MY BOY CHILD + 1 point Mean to Dib about his interests - 1 point Arguing - 1 point Calling Dib's spaceship fake - 1 point Wishing isn't very scientific son - 1 point Patting his son on the head + 1 point Unprovoked calling Dib's ideas imaginary - 1 point Confirming he knows aliens exist, thus meaning that he's just saying they don't to be mean to his son specifically - 1 point Insisting it's a hallucinations so hard - 1 point Saying he'll always be proud of his son before he thinks he's going to die + 1 point Saved his son from a pit! + 1 point Helped fight off robots with Dib + 1 point Saying "great work honey" to Gaz + 1 point Using the moose without arguing + 1 point Pretending like all of it was a hallucination - 1 point Convincing everyone else it was a hallucination too - 1 point 10 Good point 10 Bad points

TOTAL SCORE

Good Points - 35 Bad Points - 40

RESULTS ARE IN!!!! Professor Membrane, SCIENTIFICALLY, is a BAD DADDYO!!!!!!

#INVADER ZIM #professor membrane