#Then everything will be super harsh again (❁´◡`❁)
Note
okay but rafe shamelessly peeking up your skirt is something so personal to me
omg omg wait s1 golf frat boy rafe x cutesy kinda bimbo reader??? COUNT ME IN. p.s- i have no idea how to play golf so i wrote my best interpretation😭
₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧
you sat in rafes private golf caddy watching as he lined up his next shot, his backwards cap keeping his hair out of his eyes and his muscular legs spread wide as he takes the shot.
rafe had asked (told) you to come watch him play, he thought it would be a cute date idea for you both to get out of the house since it was way too hot to stay cooped up inside all day… when in reality he just wanted to show off his skills and impress his girl.
“rafeeeeey.” you whined in a high pitch tone.
he turns to look back at you with a sour expression, wiping the sweat from his brows with one arm, using the other to lean against his golf club. “quit distracting me. what dya’ want?” he pants in the summer heat.
“i’m boreddddd” you moan again, standing from your seat in the cabby and bouncing over to him.
his free hand reaches out to grip your face, smushing your cheeks together tight “what’ve i told you about the whining? daddy’s tryna’ play a game here, sweetcheeks.”
you look up at him with big puppy dog eyes “can you teach me? please rafey…i’m so bored just sittin’ here, daddy please.”
he lets out an irritated groan, knowing you were too ditzy to understand how golf works and way too uncoordinated to actually putt a ball. he looks back at you giving you a once over, a smirk appearing on his face.
“you know what? sure pretty girl, c’mere.”
you yelp with excitement, moving to stand infront of him, your short pink skirt barely reaching your thighs as you bounce over and your tits jiggling, practically spilling out of your tight shirt.
rafe stands behind you as he passes you the golf club, quickly showing you the correct way to hold it before he moves onto your position. kicking your feet apart and pressing down on your back with his thick fingers, forcing you to arch your back as he bites his lip, his cock already growing hard.
“that’s it baby, stay just like that. now, lift your arm up like this, and strike.” you beam at him while he instructs you before focusing on the ball.
you raise your arm holding the club tight before you strike it. not even noticing rafe bending down slightly, his legs still spread wide around your figure and his fingers lifting your short skirt, peeking at your cute, pink panties underneath, he lets out a low “fuckkk.” at the sight, not loud enough for you to notice seeming as you were concentrating.
“rafey! look! i hit it. look how far it went!” you gasp, raising one arm to block the sun as you search for the ball with your eyes.
“yeah babe, daddy’s super proud of you.” he mutters, not paying attention to a word you said, instead focusing on the slightly damp patch on your panties.
he brings his thumb to your pussy, rubbing over the soaked material. your panties beginning to stick to your cunt as he thumbs your sensitive slit.
you whimper in surprise, your head spinning to look at him in shock. “daddy! wh-what are you doing?!” you hush, eyes wide, looking around quickly to see if anybody had noticed what he was doing, which they hadn’t… yet.
rafe hushes you before pulling your skirt back down and giving your ass a harsh smack. lifting up from his bent knees and looking down at you with a large smirk.
“nice panties, baby. where’d you get em?” he asks rhetorically, a sly smile appearing on his face.
knowing for a fine fact he bought them, as he does everything else, your clothes, food, shoes. you name it, he bought it. because that’s what wealthy daddy’s like him do. and rafe is without question, wholeheartedly, your daddy.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron prompt#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#rafe cameron fic
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Begin Again
an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.
Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.
CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)
Word Count: 24K
Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.
Breakups suck.
That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule?
Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else.
You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.
You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’
She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips.
“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-”
“Why do you have a lighter?”
Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“
The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.
It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours.
A supercut of every moment.
You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay.
Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called.
“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?”
Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close.
“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.”
You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..”
You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.”
You snort, “for breaking my heart?”
Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.”
Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy.
Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements.
A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall.
For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed.
Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks.
Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere.
You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion.
“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?”
Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.”
“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.”
Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?”
Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve.
“Six weeks, starting today.”
You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan.
“Six weeks.”
It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold.
WEEK ONE.
Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path.
“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.”
“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”
“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.”
You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again.
If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen.
“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?”
A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.”
For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there.
Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying.
You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face.
“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?”
“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.”
You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call.
“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-”
Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second.
“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.”
Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective.
He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt.
Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt.
“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.”
Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.”
It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back.
Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts.
You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent.
“Sleepy?”
Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join.
“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?”
Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.”
Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.
“Make sure he gets home for me.”
Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores.
The birds were screaming the earth back awake.
At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable.
There’s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene.
“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.”
“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it.
“I think… I think I’m doing okay.”
Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.”
After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea.
Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen.
You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?”
“Noon thirty.”
Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself.
Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines.
Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”
You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily.
“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.”
You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?”
“Have you ever-”
Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues.
“Who’s-”
“Did you-”
You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door.
“What do you want, penis?”
Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies?
Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes.
“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.”
Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot.
“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-”
The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.”
You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.
“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-”
“Is that Peter B. Parker?”
Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin.
The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew.
“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.”
Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying.
“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.”
She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again.
“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!”
You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately.
Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?”
You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.”
His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.”
You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite.
“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…”
Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now.
“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.”
His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.”
Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.”
It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor.
Too bad you’re more guarded than ever.
“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.”
Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection.
Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.
Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good.
On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat.
“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?”
Deny till death.
“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.”
Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”
It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth.
You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.”
Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.”
Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite.
“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?”
You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings.
“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.”
Natalie Greene knows three things to be true.
One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet.
“What if you talked to him?”
Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?”
Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet.
“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.”
You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it.
“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.”
She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline.
“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.”
Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.
WEEK TWO.
Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school.
Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out.
“Hey.”
You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change.
“How are you doing?”
You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled.
“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.”
Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?”
Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage.
“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around.
“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.”
Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?”
You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.”
You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!”
This was it.
This was your worst nightmare.
Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop.
“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together.
Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat.
“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?”
Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath.
“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be.
You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death.
Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.
It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out.
You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales.
When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb.
“I, um, I still have those cookies?”
Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much.
You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you.
Tonight, you were full of surprises.
“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.”
You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding.
You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago.
You do a double take, five months?
He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst.
You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door.
Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall.
“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.”
While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.”
Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look.
“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.”
You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him.
“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle.
“Harder,” you test it.
“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good.
“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier.
“Harder, don’t be so weak!”
He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls.
You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow.
“Fucking!”
“Piece!”
“Of!”
“Shit!”
You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?”
You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.”
Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit.
The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter.
Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid.
“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.”
Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.”
It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.”
You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind.
“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more.
“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’”
There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.
Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much.
“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it.
“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?”
No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible.
Still, you find yourself agreeing.
“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.”
It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up.
“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.
“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.”
Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’.
“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively.
You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe.
Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that.
“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up.
For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great.
WEEK THREE.
Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips.
“Let’s fuck some shit up.”
Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy.
It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?”
You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer.
It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him.
“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch.
It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone.
May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered.
“Hi, May. Is Peter home?”
She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better.
“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.”
You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves.
You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary.
“Uh huh.”
“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”
Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.”
You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity.
“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.”
May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.”
The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently.
“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!”
You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick.
You don’t think you could ever love again.
Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not.
“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at.
Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock.
“I’m sure.” Because, you really are.
Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did.
It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt.
A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.”
Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.
Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours.
For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s.
You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”
You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it.
“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”
The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.
“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.”
Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows.
“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too.
You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.”
You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.”
Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time.
Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.”
Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours.
He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him.
“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.”
Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”
For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.
Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.
“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.”
The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less.
“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen.
He would send you things he found funny.
Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny.
“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification.
‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’
You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.”
“Have fun on the trip!”
A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing.
Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.
“Hi.”
Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along.
“Okay, okay, so what did she say?”
Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate.
Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.”
You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.”
Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary.
“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass.
“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus.
He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you.
“Is that a good thing?”
You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off.
“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step.
“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement.
“And very nice curls.”
“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.”
Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought.
“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.”
You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue.
“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place.
“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started.
You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.
“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream?
It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.
It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing.
It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer?
What are you doing?
His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission.
You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him.
With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect.
You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do.
You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him.
You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner.
In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get.
All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.
He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt.
Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right.
Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life.
Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth.
“Oh, wow!”
Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.
Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!
“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?”
Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.
“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart.
Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-
“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!”
It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling.
“Are you gonna hide from me forever?”
If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.”
He’s perfect.
“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”
You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.
It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.”
May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips.
It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave.
You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.
“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.
“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like.
“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror.
“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.”
Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.”
“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner.
“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue.
“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him?
“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.”
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself.
“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.”
The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him.
Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk.
You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t.
Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare.
“Butter, please?”
You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit.
“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard.
“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.”
Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.”
You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human.
“Oh? I thought after-”
Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.”
May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?
Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks.
“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.”
Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks.
“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?”
You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable.
“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.”
May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.”
You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?”
A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.”
“Scars don’t.”
Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?”
May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon.
“They do.”
WEEK FOUR
Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that.
You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk.
Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning?
“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?”
The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.”
Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.
“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.”
“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him.
“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.”
You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?”
“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished.
“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.”
Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.
“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.”
A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school.
“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation.
“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”
“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.”
You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.”
“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy.
“You’re in denial.”
Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.”
You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks?
And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass?
Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak.
You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.”
Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks.
How long has he liked you?
It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart.
“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.”
“But was it worth it?”
Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?”
Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?”
You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever.
If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble.
It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same.
“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer.
“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown.
“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.”
“Can’t is a funny word choice.”
“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.”
Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.”
You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that.
“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea.
“Break up with me.”
Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?”
“You said I don’t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick.
“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.”
“No.”
“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.”
“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation?
You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”
“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not.
A laugh, “then break up with me.”
You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do.
Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.”
Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.”
Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.”
It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.”
Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?
If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe.
“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it.
You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.”
Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.”
You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.”
A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.”
It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns.
“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”
You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself.
Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again.
“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.
Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart.
This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s.
It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it?
It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor.
It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more?
Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t.
You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door.
It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power.
Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you.
If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?
Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers.
When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you.
“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you.
You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?”
Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned.
“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice.
Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one.
“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.
Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic.
You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him.
“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out.
You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling.
“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you’re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out.
You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced.
“Do you see where I’m sitting?”
Peter nods, “I do.”
Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.”
You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?
“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit.
“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this?
“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it.
“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind.
You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”
“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.”
He has a very fair point.
“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.”
You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want?
“How do you know I don’t want this?”
“Because this isn’t you.”
You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.”
“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.”
Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine.
“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?
“You mean when you had a boyfriend?”
Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?”
Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever.
“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?”
You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him.
You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls.
“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you.
Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too?
“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind.
“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.”
Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?”
“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks.
“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.”
Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.
He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful.
The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter?
Would it feel like an agonizing death?
Would your wings ever be patchable again?
Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing?
It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry.
Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t.
Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it.
“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.”
Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading.
It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object.
You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.
It’s Peter’s fault.
“Because you made me want to.”
WEEK FIVE.
It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.
“Good morning.”
You nod your head, “penis.”
And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed.
You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks.
It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works.
3:02, you hear his window.
3:04, your eyes finally get heavy.
3:07, you’re dozing off.
3:10, you’re asleep.
It wasn’t fair.
Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow.
Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest.
If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked.
“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.”
Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.
"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."
Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.
“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”
When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands.
He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed.
“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.
“Peter.” You need his focus on you.
He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work.
Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly.
“Oh, good. You’re up.”
Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time.
“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.”
“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit.
“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst.
“You passed out on me last night.”
Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.”
You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex.
Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?”
“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?”
“I think another water and some advil might kill me.”
“Perfect, coming right up.”
Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.”
Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.”
Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes.
“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown.
“Does it hurt?”
Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.”
You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart.
“Guess we’re twinsies now.”
If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused.
“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products.
“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them.
“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing.
“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth.
“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed.
“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter.
You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him.
“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.”
It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds.
“Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”
“Sure. Go shopping for me.”
You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion.
Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high.
A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is.
It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard.
Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress.
Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy.
“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down.
No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right.
“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him.
“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree.
“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.”
Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t.
“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.”
“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good.
He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man.
“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way.
“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man.
You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”
Now or never.
You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him.
Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours.
You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold.
You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself.
You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk.
Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss.
Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”
There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows.
“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much.
“No.”
He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing.
“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you.
Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.
“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you.
“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?”
You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?”
“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter.
You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth.
“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him.
“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm.
“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.”
“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.”
And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it.
“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.”
No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated.
When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening.
WEEK SIX.
You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.”
You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused.
You think you broke him.
“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible.
“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it.
It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore.
“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.”
She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”
“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.”
Well, when she puts it like that…
“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did.
“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.”
“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.”
You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.”
You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.”
You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip.
Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months.
When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself.
When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call.
Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too.
And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined.
When he stumbled up the steps.
When he hit his head with his locker.
When he stepped on his glasses.
When he was tackled in flag football.
When he tripped over his shoelace.
When he got glue in his hair.
When he winced while dissecting a frog.
When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind.
When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it.
When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired.
When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back.
“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying.
It’s worth it.
“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.”
Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back.
Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel.
Step two: See above.
There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do.
One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt.
A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly.
“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.”
“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?”
May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it.
“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay.
A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.”
You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts.
Is this an asshole move? Yes.
Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly.
Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that.
“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?”
You hear something drop inside his apartment.
“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?”
A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.”
Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.”
There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it.
“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.”
Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know.
“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.”
You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-”
“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it.
But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet.
“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?”
Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed.
“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.”
“Did you just call me a normy?”
“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.”
There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it.
But it’s all in the timing.
“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.”
“Miserable? What, about the breakup?”
“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference.
You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him.
But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday.
You’re in love with Peter and only Peter.
“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.”
Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”
He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no.
“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him.
Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate.
You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened.
But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite.
“Do you still like me?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-”
“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm.
“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.”
Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness.
“Can you call me sweetheart?”
“Is that the one you like?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
It’s so much sweeter than you imagined.
You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting.
May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone.
Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company.
Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were.
“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo.
“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much?
But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day.
You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter.
May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you.
Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.”
“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them.
“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.”
“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think.
“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn.
Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last.
“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.”
May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?”
“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.”
Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet.
“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck.
“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.”
“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.”
“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.”
Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention.
“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention.
“You said I was never properly loved.”
Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-”
“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.”
Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-”
“If you’d be my boyfriend.”
You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever.
“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!”
“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.”
“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.”
It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs.
“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-”
“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand.
“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.”
Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either.
It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter.
You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard.
‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night.
Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies.
Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies.
Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies.
You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks.
After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling.
But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you.
“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.”
A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-”
“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.”
“I don’t hate you anymore.”
“Spoiler alert, you never did.”
You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug.
“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?”
“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.”
“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.”
The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor.
And you watched love begin again.
“Anything for you, girlfriend.”
----
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would you do satosugu discovering their "friend" (both of them have a fatass crush on m!reader) is a teen dad, and just all of them chaotically taking care of a baby. (like those collage students raising a baby tiktoks?)
ok so technically i only write for blue lock buttttttttttt… i am more than willing to make an exception for this. this is also my favorite niche of satosugu fics so im super honored someone requested it from me
tags: male reader has a foster daughter bc hell yeah girl dads, unnamed child bc that's too much for me, reader is a sorcerer, found family but in a janked up kinda way, whipped satosugu, pre-hidden inventory so everyone is in high school in this
this a long one yall
part two coming soon!
★ when assigned an extremely harsh mission, you find an orphaned child barely a year old within all the rumble. you soon found out her family was recently killed in the destruction. unsure of what would happen to her after this, you decided to take her as your own.
★ scared of any judgment, you didn’t tell anyone about her so only a few higher-ups were aware. luckily you were allowed to live off campus so you two could have more space and privacy.
★ however the physical effects of raising a kid all on your own at such a young age were certainly showing. you came to school visibly worn down, often falling asleep in the middle of class and taking more absences than usual.
★ the first people to notice, of course, were gojo and geto. as nosy as they were, they tried not to push it, knowing you had just come back from a really taxing mission. though they did get more and more suspicious whenever you didn’t let them visit your new place.
★ however one day, they did spot you out in public wearing a baby carrier with, of course, a baby they’d never seen before resting right inside. they immediately came up to you and bombarded you with multiple questions before you got them to chill out and explained everything.
★ wanting you to take some time off (and win you over), they offer to take care of her regularly. who were you to refuse? after all, it is free babysitting and you were already using up so much money hiring actual babysitters.
★ during their first babysitting job, you thanked them profusely before going back into your room and instantly falling asleep the moment your body hit your bed, taking a very well-deserved nap.
★ you see, gojo was already pretty hesitant about you having a kid around. this was before he took in megumi so he found basically any child gross and annoying. (though he’s somehow even more attracted to you now that you’re a dad.)
★ coughs dilf lover gojo i mean what?
★ so when gojo picked up your baby for the first time, she immediately cried when they made eye contact and he got so so personally offended that he started rethinking this whole babysitting thing.
★ the first thirty minutes or so of taking care of your kid went pretty okay. that was until she started crying again and neither of them knew why.
★ you see, these idiots have no idea how to care for a child.
★ they frantically tried to calm her down and figure out what was wrong without needing to wake you. they checked if she was hurt in any way, she definitely wasn’t hungry since they already fed her, nor did she need to be changed. gojo even called shoko to see if she could do anything.
★ when they eventually saw her crawling towards your room and sobbing right outside your door, hesitantly let her in to see her climb onto your bed and lay down with you, realizing she just missed you the whole time. that entire experience made them so exhausted that they almost climbed into bed with you. but when they saw the gratitude on your face after you woke up, it made it all worth it.
★ luckily the next few times they watched over her, babysitting got more and more easy as she grew used to them.
★ they start coming over so often to look after her that your place basically becomes their second home.
★ geto is in charge of doing her hair since the last time gojo attempted it, it was just a big mess of hair ties and ribbons. geto’s definitely not complaining since he loves to get her ready. in fact, geto does a lot of the responsible stuff when taking care of her since gojo, hmm what’s a nice way to put it, lacks a lot of the necessary skills.
★ oh yeah, remember what i said about gojo hating younger children? yeah, that completely changes as he spends more time with your daughter. he’s almost always playing with her or showing up with a brand new toy or stuffed animal just for her. he ends up loving her so so much and wants to be her cool fun dad.
★ unfortunately both of them are way too nice when it comes to disciplining her. they let her get away with so much. late bedtimes, too much tv, grabbing any treats she wants off the grocery store shelves. how can they not spoil such an adorable little girl like her!?
★ what’s also unfortunate is how they try to drag you into it.
“come on, y/n. let loose a little. cake for dinner does sound pretty appetizing right now.”
“come on. just let her watch ten more minutes before bed.” gojo lazed on the couch with her on his lap. “besides this cartoon is starting to get good.”
“come onnn… just let her buy it.” geto held up a sparkly pink dress you already told him she doesn’t need with his own sparkles in his eyes. “she’ll look so cute in it. i promise i’ll pay you back.”
★ their hearts explode whenever you’re affectionate with her. they love the way you gently rock her in your arms while humming a sweet lullaby, slowly lulling her to sleep. the way they see you kiss her forehead after placing her into the crib before quickly turning around and acting like they weren’t staring the whole time. they fall head over heels for you for probably the twentieth time by now since they met you but those times were definitely the hardest.
★ they’ve been in her life for a good while so when she begins talking more frequently, she starts calling them her papas as she does with you. gojo aka former “ugh kids are so gross and icky” feels his heart combusting whenever she calls him that and he owns that title proudly. meanwhile geto feels so endeared and honored that she sees him that way.
★ “we’re not the stepdads. we’re the dads that stepped up!” looking asses.💀
★ the secret of you having a kid doesn’t last for long since these two can’t keep quiet about it. they’re just way too happy and want to show her off. especially gojo who scrolls through 100s of photos of her while gushing about her to basically anyone who’ll listen. shoko and nanami are the most common targets whenever this happens.
★ he even ends up showing photos of you and your daughter napping together (that you had no idea he took), making you snatch his phone away in embarrassment.
★ whenever you guys go out on family dates to go to the beach or picnicking, geto always takes the time to dress her up with pretty hairstyles and cute little outfits. he absolutely loves doting on her.
★ they love her with all their hearts and would do absolutely anything for her. she’s so lucky to have three weird dads take care of her and raise her. a very odd and… unconventional family dynamic but an amazing one nonetheless. this family only grows bigger and bigger once gojo takes in megumi and geto practically adopts mimiko and nanako.
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ayo we rocking with the star bullet points?? 🗣️⁉️
#★ snail.writes ★#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#satosugu x male reader#satosugu x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x male reader#gojo x male reader#geto x male reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen fluff#finished this up while watching drew gooden
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heyheyhey!! i would like to req for a fic, where after a BIG fight with your s/o (any genshin char), you're extremely clingy in the morning.
(because fluff after angst is heaven)
Omg I saw this request and literally went YAY! (Fluff after angst is just chefs kiss) I hope you like this and sorry it took awhile to write!!
─⊰⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⊹ฺ✿─
{༻~Being clingy after a big fight~༺}
CW: Slight angst because mentions of a previous fight, overall super fluffy though!
(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Wanderer, and Neuvillette!)
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
𑁍༄Diluc:
Your eyes fluttered open, dried tears clinging to your lashes from the night before, reminding you of the argument that caused you to go to bed crying. You glanced at the sleeping man next to you, who had originally had his back turned to you but must have shifted in his sleep, his face now mere inches from yours...and his own sadness visible.
You couldn't even really remember what the argument was about anymore and in that moment...your heart didn't want to fight about it, so you moved in closer, cuddling up to his warm figure and resting your face in his chest. To your surprise his arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you against him as he kissed your head softly and whispered with that morning voice you loved so much, "I'm sorry..."
𑁍༄Lyney:
You looked away as Lyney opened the door, leaving the room the two of you would usually have shared and looking rather depressed as he glanced at you, your hands instantly busying themselves with the dishes so you wouldn't have to talk. "Mon amour..." He said softly, voice just above a whisper as he stepped closer to you...his fingers gently touching your chin, guiding it so you'd look into his bright purple eyes. Their normal mischievous glint replaced with guilt and sadness, he was hurting...just like you.
You bit your bottom lip, tears welling up in your eyes as you hugged him so tightly, saying apologies between sobs and rubbing your face in his clothes, the comforting scent of rainbow roses making your heart ache. "Oh mon amour...I'm sorry too..." He said quietly, embracing you just as tightly as you had him and wiping your tears with his thumb before placing loving kisses on your cheeks.
𑁍༄Wanderer:
(I used the nickname Scara here!)
The sound of knocking pulled you out of your thoughts, your eyes flicking to the door to see Scara, who to your surprise was leaning against its frame with his hat turned downwards so you couldn't see his face. Your chest tightened at the sight of him, the harsh words you'd both said the night before flooding into your mind and making your heart ache, was he here to argue more...you honestly couldn't bare the idea of it.
After a few moments of silence, you finally stood up from your chair and took cautious steps towards him, your voice shaky with sadness as you said his name "Scara...?"
Suddenly he grabbed ahold of you, pulling you into him like if he didn't he could loose you forever, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he held you tightly and your heart pounded against the walls of your chest, tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him. His breath warm against your ear and his voice softer than you'd ever heard it as he whispered a apology against your skin.
𑁍༄Neuvillette:
You sighed quietly as you opened the large door, watching as it swung open slowly to reveal Neuvillette, who glanced up at you from his desk, his eyes instantly filling with love and slight guilt when they landed on you. He cleared his throat, about to stand and most likely apologize again for the fight the two of you had previously, but you didn't give him the chance.
Instead you walked over to his chair, climbing into his lap with a light blush on your face and snuggling into his clothed chest as he embraced you tightly, not a word had to be said between the two of you to confirm that everything was alright again. He held you like that as he signed multiple papers and studied previous cases, placing kisses on the top of your head ever so often.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*.✧
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin fanfic#genshin headcanons#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#diluc headcanons#diluc angst#diluc fluff#diluc x reader#diluc x you#diluc hcs#lyneyfluff#lyney angst#lyney headcanons#lyney x reader#lyney x you#lyneyhcs#wanderer headcanons#wanderer x reader#wanderer fluff#wanderer x you#wanderer angst#wanderer hcs#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x you#neuvillettehcs#neuvilletteheadcanons#neuvillette fluff#neuvillette angst
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heyo !! could i get dazai, akutagawa, and fyodor with a reader who is super clingy and just overall loves them? like all over them just constantly hugging them and sitting in their lap and squishing their cheeks. just the couples being lovesick 👀👀👀 tysm !
That’s so cute omggggg!!! Here it is!!! I think this might have been slightly less fluffy than what you had wanted, but I hope it’s still okay…. please feel free to request as much as you want, and don’t hesitate to be specific so I don’t fuck anything up 🥹
(I seriously need to try and write more lighthearted stuff. I feel like everything I write is so SERIOUS)
BSD Men With a Super Clingy S/O
In this post: 🍪 Osamu Dazai, Ryonosuke Akutagawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky 🍪
Synopsis: How would BSD Men react to a super clingy S/O
Ryonosuke Akutagawa
Akutagawa never truly understood why you wanted to be so close to him. The first few times you had grabbed his hand or thrown your arms around him in a hug, it’s as if you had hugged a frozen fish. He didn’t know where to put his hands and you had had to tell him it was okay to hug you back. And after time and time again that you threw yourself in his arms, the cold mafioso started responding quicker, wrapping his arms around you, but he still couldn’t truly believe that you wanted to always be touching him, in some way or another, because you truly loved him. He feared he did it not deserve your happy smiles and warmth. But with your ever-present clinginess, Akutagawa slowly accepted the fact that he was loved.
You huffed, bored, throwing your phone away from you. It bounced on the couch pillows, almost tipping over the edge. You barely even looked at it, your eyes now glued to your boyfriend, Akutagawa, who was sitting next to you, focusing on a book. His light eyes concentrated on the story unfolding in front of him, his mind miles away. Akutagawa was immersed in his novel, that he didn’t notice you crawling towards him, a small smile on your lips.
You slowly laid your head on his thigh, inhaling his sweet and familiar scent that had meant home for you. Akutagawa noticed, but didn’t seem to mind, tentatively placing a hand on your head. You stayed still for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of his long fingers getting lost in your hair.
You soon started craving more physical contact, as you always did, and gave yourself a gentle push forward, now having your torso lie in his lap. Akutagawa only moved his book to the side to glance at you for a second, before he returned to his story: he was used to you being weird.
Once again, you stayed on his lap for some time, counting how many pages Akutagawa flipped. And then, suddenly, you threw yourself up, sitting in his lap and throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing an avalanche of kisses on his neck.
Akutagawa’s froze, initially, unsure of how to react. His eyes stuck to yours, the silence pressing around you. “What are you doing, (Y/N)?” He asked, staring down at you, his voice harsh. He was somewhat used to you being attached to his hip permanently, always needing to feel his skin on yours, but he still needed some time to adjust. His hands were rigid, frozen, away from your body. You grabbed his stiff arms and wrapped them around your waist.
“I’m cuddling you, what does it look like I’m doing?” You asked, peeking up at him through your lashes. Akutagawa stayed still for a few more interminable seconds, gazing at your loved-filled eyes, before he finally relaxed into your embrace, throwing the book aside. His hug was, initially, tentative, and slowly became stronger, to the point where he was holding you as if his life depended on it.
Akutagawa’s hugs were always like this, and you adored it: it was if he slowly let himself go to the idea of being loved. Yes, you were naturally a clingy person, but you also did it to help Akutagawa’s bruised heart feel all the love he deserved. Maybe the universe, to make up for all the affections he hadn’t received, had sent you and your warm hugs to him. As Akutagawa pressed you tighter against his chest, he could not help the small smile that appeared on his lips.
Osamu Dazai
Dazai was as clingy as you were, sometimes even more than you. He constantly searched for you, holding your hand, or wrapping his arms around you when you two were lying in bed. Anytime he could, he would lift you by the hips and place you snugly in his lap, and keep you there, like a warm koala, as he worked, or well, pretended to work. Whenever you initiated anything, which was almost always, he responded happily: you hugged him first, he hugged you harder. Dazai didn’t want to admit that constantly having to touch you was not only fueled by the disproportionate love he had for you, but also the constant fear that you could be ripped away from him at any moment. Dazai mind also plagued him with the knowledge that you were too good for him; having you constantly search for him, as if he were your oxygen, reassured him more than he would ever admit.
You tried finishing the report you had to hand in by the end of the day, but your mind was just too clouded, and writing a sentence felt like navigating through fog without any guidance. Your eyes kept anxiously sliding down to the clock on your desk: Dazai was coming back from a week-long mission, and you yearned for him. You needed to feel his warmth envelope him in a soul-crushing hug, you needed to feel his cologne, you needed him.
Kunikida, who had been walking past one of the large windows in the ADA office, glanced outside. He turned to look at your hope-filled eyes, and he nodded, a small smile on his usually stoic face.
You stood up so fast your chair toppled over, but you didn’t mind, sprinting down the hallway, almost jumping down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. You threw the front door open, finding Dazai standing there, in all his glory. His warm, brown eyes were tired, and had lost their usual sparkle. But when he saw you, a small smile danced on the corners of his lips. Dazai opened his arms, whispering, “Hello, belladonna.”
You threw yourself in his arms, hiding your face in his neck. “Dazai!” You cried. You felt his bandaged arm fall delicately around your shoulders, pressing you against him. The minute Dazai smelled your sweet perfume, he felt at peace; he knew he was home. The calm he felt when you were squishing him against you in a hug was only proof of what he already knew: you were his North Star, the reason of his existence, the moonlight in his dark life.
Dazai’s head rested against yours, and you could swear was shivering in your arms.
The minute Kunikida called him, leaning from the window, Dazai’s cheerful smile returned with strength, and his tiredness evaporated, his eyes no longer tired, his vulnerability covered by his perpetual joy. He pulled away from you, going to stand underneath the window to chat with his partner, but you knew what he was truly hiding and didn’t let his hand go.
For the rest of the day, you stood next to Dazai, holding his hand or his arm, and when no one was around, you wrapped your boyfriend into hugs, pressing him closer to your heart.
Dazai was used to having some part of his body always be in contact with yours, but today, more than ever, he was thankful that you were clingy, becasue he needed your gentleness and your warmth to not collapse on the ground and start shivering from all the darkness that he hid inside his heart.
After all, your clinginess was his salvation.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Fyodor, before meeting you, had never tolerated anyone barging into his personal space. If anyone suddenly touched him, he would make them pay the price of the disrespect tenfold (Nikolai could personally testify to that). But the minute you and your angelic smiles had stepped into his life, he suddenly had to get used to you constantly touching him, for one reason or the other. His personal space was no longer his, it was yours, and, with a small thump in his heart, he realized he didn’t really mind anymore. His cold body craved your warmth, and, of course, he would never, admit how much he adored your hugs, or the way you constantly needed him for such trivial things. Slowly, your ever constant need to be pressed against him has warmed his heart
Fyodor was sitting in front his computers, the blue light shining on his breathtaking eyes. He was concentrated, his fingers flying on the keyboard. You were observing him from the door, having cracked it open. You were debating whether or not he would mind if you waltzed in and started talking to him.
“Myshka, you’re letting a draft in. Either come in, or come out.” Fyodor’s sharp voice resonated in the room. You flinched: you had been almost positive he hadn’t noticed you, but who were you kidding? This is Fyodor Dostoyevsky you were talking about.
You sighed, slipping in and shutting the door behind you. “Sorry, Fedya.”
“No grave damage was made, my dear. What brings you here?” Fyodor asked, still typing on his keyboard.
“You.” You replied, sauntering over to him, knowing that if he had given you the chance to slip inside, and was engaging in conversation with you, he was okay with getting disturbed. You draped yourself over his shoulder, your face next to his. You kissed his cheek a few times.
“Me?” Fyodor asked, finally turning to look at you, his monitors forgotten for once. “Do you mean my body? If you are aroused, my dear, I fear I can only please you for a short while — ”
“No, not like that!” You chuckled. You gently spun his chair around, making him fully face you. “I just want to be with you!” You said, falling into his arms. Fyodor, who was used to catching you as you threw yourself dramatically in his arms, had already been ready. You giggled like child, looking up at your cold, evil mastermind boyfriend who no longer seemed to react to your behavior. You extend your hands, placing them on his cheeks.
Fyodor furrowed his brows, gazing down at you inquisitively. Before he could ask what you were up to, you smushed his cheeks together, laughing so brightly Fyodor was sure he had fallen even more in love with you, even if he only admitted it to himself with a pinch of annoyance.
No one could have had the honor to smush his cheeks and walk away alive and unharmed, but this was you, his (Y/N), and so he only looked down at you, raising an eyebrow sarcastically. “You look like a chipmunk!” You giggled, moving his cheeks around.
“‘M gld I’muse you drling.” Fyodor spoke, his words pressed together as his cheeks were. The joy that lit your eyes at the simple, childish joke, made Fyodor’s own heart tremble with happiness.
You removed your hands from his cheeks. “Had your Fyodor quota filled, milaya?” Fyodor asked.
“No. I’ll never have my fill.” You smiled at him, pulling yourself up, aided by your boyfriend’s cold hands, to settle comfortably on his lap, and wrap your arms around his neck, deciding to stay there a while, closing your eyes to relax.
Fyodor pressed a kiss to your forehead before he returned to his work, a hand slipped inside your shirt, tracing lines on your back.
Fyodor didn’t know when his personal space had become your space as well, but he couldn’t be happier that it had.
#bsd x reader#bsd#bungou stray dogs#dazai x reader#fyodor x reader#akutagawa x reader#akutagawa ryonosuke#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai osamu#bsd fyodor#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd
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You Play Quidditch || Slytherin Boys
type :: fluff
tw/cw:: none
contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire
summary :: you play quidditch either alongside them or against them, I automatically thought that you wouldn't be on the same team as them so uh,,, whoops
DRACO MALFOY
Loves the idea of it, the two best Quidditch players are dating
But once he finds out you're better than him, he hates it LMAO
Everyone starts to compare you two and he's so quick to defend himself and say he's better
Makes everything a competition now, he can't stand losing
Who's faster, who can dive better, better broom, cooler tricks, everything is a big competition to him
During his game days, if he's against you - he does not give a fuck
If anything, he's harsher against your team to make SURE he doesn't get embarrassed
If you end up winning against him, then he'll be upset the whole time during your celebration party
But if you lose, oh my god he's bragging and taking shot after shot
Takes so many photos of his win and rubs it in your face every time you make him mad
During your games he's not super loud
But oh my god, he is a KAREN
Always complaining to the ref about how what the other team was a foul or wasn't fair
He has genuinely held back a game by almost an hour just by arguing with the ref
Eventually you did get the point
One whole hour of his yapping,,, for 10 points...
If you ever get hurt from playing, he'll mock you but be worried of course
He'll stay in the hospital wing until you're all better
The nurses have to beg him to leave but all he does is pretend to leave but sneak in during night
He helps you heal and get better since he's been hurt a lot from quidditch
He's kinda like your own physical therapist
TOM RIDDLE
Never liked quidditch because of all of the assholes who play (like his brother)
Often gets teased by the team but it’s ironic
Because the coach has literally BEGGED Tom on their knees to play for the Slytherin house
He’s an amazing seeker, one of the best and way better than Draco
But he’d rather enjoy his own time and not have to deal with teammates, practices, award ceremony’s, etc
He did play in year 3, and he was INSANEE
Literally got the snitch within 4 minutes, the world record for Quidditch… done by some little 14 year old
But he quit after because he thought it was boring, plus Mattheo joined and he didn't want to be around his brother
But once he sees you playing, he sighs and realizes he's gonna have to turn into a soccer mom
Helps your prep for all of your games
Fills up your water bottle, packs your broom, brings deodorant and extra socks, and ofc a shit ton of snacks
He couldn't give less of a shit about coming to your games, but he decides to go to one and only one
But when he does, he gets so irritated with how everyone plays, especially you, so he decides to join the team again
The second he joins, he leaves everyone in the dust and instantly becomes captain as well as Seeker (Draco was pisssssseddddd)
Starts training everyone as if they're preparing for war
Pushes you way harder than all of the others
Although he's a player, he's basically the coach since even the coach isn't as good as him
Overtime, he sees improvement in you and he's proud but won't show it
He supports your sport but won't attend a majority of the games, only practices
Surprisingly, he's pretty nice to your teammates and ends up getting a small soft spot for them all
Brings your whole team water and snacks, but he says it's just cause it's cheaper to buy snacks in bulk
But regardless, if you win your match, he's happy for you and won't do anything special besides maybe give you a small kiss
But if you lose, he'll make sure that you learn from your mistakes and trains your team even harder
MATTHEO RIDDLE
Super conflicted between falling deeper in love or being protective and not allowing you to get hurt
He also plays and he’s a beater, he knows how harsh the players can get
Comes to all of your games and practices to make sure you never get hurt
Runs at full speed if he thinks you’re going to fall
But you always end up saving yourself
Whenever Slytherin goes against your house, he’s always a little bit more gentle on you
But he doesn’t hold back against your teammates
Everyone calls him a wimp for not wanting to hurt you, in retaliation he wacks the shit out of anyone who said that
Soooo embarrassing in the crowd for your games
“THAT’S MY GIRL!!!!”
Definitely goes crazy and buys air horns, party poppers, a megaphone, the whole soccer mom kit
He's one of the Weasleys' number one buyers, since he purchases all of their fireworks
100000000%% DEFINITELY AFFIRMATIVELY CONFIDENTLY, he yells at the ref whenever they fuck up anything
One time the speaker called a foul on you since you stole the opposing team beater's bat and started wacking the opposing team on the head with it
You were 1000% in the wrong. No point in defending yourself
But Mattheo slammed the speaker's head into their desk and removed the foul from your record
Even when a point is rightfully earned by the other team, Mattheo will start booing the ref and convince others to join him
When you win your match, he's super happy for you and gets you a nice filling dinner
But if you lose, he'll just say that the game was rigged and that he'll beat up anyone who mentions the loss
THEODORE NOTT
When you make the team, he’s super duper proud of you
But once he finally realizes that you’re going to be playing and getting hurt, he instantly takes it back
He asks if you’re sure you want to play 24/7
He also plays, he’s the Keeper for Slytherin and is pretty good
Whenever Slytherin goes against your house, he’s shitting bricks
Once the match starts, he avoids you at all cost to make sure he doesn’t hurt you
But when he sees Matt slam a ball into your broom, making you fall from the sky, he instantly rushes to you
He helps you get off your broom and put you on the floor and then continues the match
Everyoneeeeee was booing him but he didn’t give a shit
When he’s watching you play, he’s so annoying omg
Definitely a back-seater
“Why would you do that?!? No go left!!! Oh my god….”
It’s never towards you, but your teammates
After the game ends, he loudly shit talks your teammates even though they're right there
"Bruh number 10 was selling the whole match" while number 10 is already crying on a bench from feeling so guilty
If you win, it's endless praises and a small surprise for you in some shape or form
It might be a milkshake or boba after your game, a promise for a future date, or just a bunch of kissings
But if you lose, don't worry he won't ever blame you
Instead he bullies the shit out of your teammates until they almost cry or burst into tears
LORENZO BERKSHIRE
Is on the Quidditch team too but he's a benched player :( He's not super duper good
But he's a back up Keeper for when the main guy gets sick or beaten too badly
So when you make it and you have an important role, he's amazed at how good you are
He does his best to support you and go to all of your games
He realizes that he might never be put on the field for his games, so he decides to quit and instead become a water boy
This makes your team reallyyy like him, and he gets popular with the girls on your team
So much so that it ends up distracting them, making them fuck up practice
So he quits being a water boy and lets Neville do it
He supports you at all of your games and gives you any tips he can since Slytherin is one of the top quidditch teams
Whenever you win, he's so proud you you!!!!
He takes you out to eat and celebrate
Whenever you lose, he shrugs it off and says that it was rigged anyways
Will get you a small gift anyways as a congrats for even playing
Always tells people that you're on the quidditch team to flex that you're cool
One day you get hurt from playing and he's so worried for you
But he calms down and waits all day till you're better
Always proud of you and encourages whatever you choose to do
#harry potter#harry potter x reader#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#draco malfoy x y/n#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x y/n#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x y/n#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x y/n#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire x y/n#slytherin#slytherin boys
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youtube
Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared
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Pity Party
Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia
Word Count: 3.3k
Summary: 'I'm going to do it,' you thought triumphantly. 'I'm going to invite Malleus Draconia to the next Unbirthday Party as my date.' And naturally, the Universe in all its infinite omnipotence, went 'lol bet.'
A/N: A very fun commission for the lovely @toast-tales
“Heartslaybul is having another one of their Unbirthday Parties this Friday,” you said, a bit stilted but enthusiastic nevertheless. “And I was thinking—well, it was just a thought! But! Maybe it’d be nice if we, y’know, went together?” You finished, looking up from beneath your lashes at the looming figure before you.
The Gargoyle, naturally, did not respond. A sound rejection if ever there was one.
But! That attempt had sounded really good, hadn’t it? Totally natural and everything! Not a single stutter, fainting episode, or bought of nervous vomiting to be seen!
“Okay,” you muttered, pacing back and forth as you diligently fought the urge to ring your hands. “Okay, okay, okay. I can do this. It’s just, like, two sentences—Three? Was that three?—Doesn’t matter! Focus! It’s not that hard!”
You circled and circled around the alcove. It was a familiar little corner, for all that you’d only ever seen it in the dark of the evening. This was where you’d meet up with Malleus for your nighttime rendezvous. Normally you didn’t bother popping by for at least another hour, but you needed all the practice you could get. And while, yes, the stone carvings overhead were hardly the best conversational partners, it was easier to practice your totally smooth pickup skills on their emotionless faces than, like, Grim. Or God forbid, Ace and Deuce.
It was only Malleus, you reassured yourself yet again—your kindly, awkward, fey friend with the social awareness of a two-centuries-old potato. It was one thing to know, or at least assume, that he’d be sweet enough to take your offer in stride. It was another entirely to imagine the Briar Prince’s blank ass face saying something genuinely well-intentioned but harsh like ‘that doesn’t sound like a particularly riveting way to spend my afternoon,’ and immediately crushing your soul into itty bitty bite-sized pieces. It was an all too easy scene to picture, as you’d done at least a hundred times since your heart had set itself on its intentions.
You just—maybe just a bit more time. Yes. One more round of practice (perhaps two), and then you’d be ready. Like the Overblots, or whatever. Those hardly phased you at all anymore! It only took repetitive, mind rending, exposure therapy. That would do it. You just needed the teeniest bit more time to—
“Ah—Child of Man. I wasn’t expecting to see you here so earl—”
You jolted back with a truly heinous squawk and wheeled gracelessly into the stone pillar at your rear. You weren’t exactly a force of nature or anything, but the column hadn’t looked all that stable to begin with. So your frantic flailing took its toll, and the great, rock, beam creaked and fell. The Gargoyle perched atop it (the very one you’d been propositioning for the past half hour or so) crashed to the ground with an echoing BOOM and a cloud of debris fit to choke an elephant.
The poor thing lay in the dirt in pieces, its regal countenance split right down the middle. And Malleus Draconia, noted aficionado of all things carved from stone, looked two steps away from having an actual aneurism. So you hurriedly buried your invitation back in the depths of your brain and quickly went about carrying out the inanimate-object-equivalent of CPR.
“I think I have some super glue back in Ramshackle,” you offered. Even though you knew well enough that he could probably wave his hand and undo the entire thing. But it was the thought that counted, right?
“Supered Glue?” Malleus parroted, his neon eyes darting back and forth between you and the shattered gargoyle like you’d just offered him some mystical panacea. You nodded along and scuttled off in the direction of your dilapidated dorm.
‘Tomorrow,’ you promised yourself, as you rifled through your miscellaneous utilities drawer, tossing around rolls of tape and wads of too-thin elastic bands. ‘Tomorrow I’ll ask him.’
.
.
The next morning, you sat in Potion’s Class with the tacky remnants of last night’s nonsense dried along your fingertips. You sneezed and something ground unpleasantly behind your ear. You reached up to pluck a stray bit of gravel from your hair and flicked it aside.
Normally you tried to give Crewel’s lectures the entirety of your focus, primarily because you respected the man and wanted him to like you. And also, y’know, from the very rational standpoint of not wanting to lose your eyebrows or dignity when an incorrectly brewed potion exploded in your face. But today you were stuck in the clouds, replaying scenario after scenario and wondering what your next step in the whole ‘Ask The Crowned Prince of An Entire Nation Out to Lunch’ situation should be.
Your neck was itching again, and you scrubbed around mindlessly before pulling out another bit of gargoyle debris and tossing it. It bounced harmlessly off Jack’s shoulder.
“Did you get all that?” Your beastman friend asked, beginning the tedious process of organizing your group workstation for the day.
“Oh? Yes. Of course,” you nodded, not having heard a single word of what was going on. You grabbed your little instructions pamphlet for the day and made your way towards your own stool.
Jack turned and narrowed his yellow eyes at you in a way that clearly let you know that that superhuman schnoz of his had sniffed out your bullshit a mile away, but you generally had a better track record than the rest of the first years, so thankfully he let it slide.
Without further ado, you went about heating, and mixing, and tempering. And by the end, the pair of you had a lovely, silver, concoction that popped and fizzled like cola. Professor Crewel paused in his rounds of the rows to stare into your cauldron with an impassive sort of look that could have meant anything from ‘Content’ to ‘Outright Murder.’ Your eyes hastily flickered around the room, but everyone else’s potions looked liked Mercury Sprite too, so you couldn’t have been in too much trouble. You dipped the testing spoon into one of the bubbliest bits and brought it to your mouth to take a teeny sip. It tasted alright, and you smacked your lips as you tried to identify the flavor.
“Well?” The professor droned, crossing his arms over his chest in a fashion that looked entirely unimpressed. “How is it?”
You opened your mouth to reply and nothing came out but static. Literal static. Like you were some overloaded, old, plug—spitting sparks and whiny, high-pitched, nonsense that was most definitely an indication of some sort of fire risk.
Crewel hummed in that self-satisfied sort of way of his—the sort that was only mastered by those who were in the habit of being proven right during every, single, catastrophe.
“The Tickled Tongue recipe is fairly straightforward, you see,” he explained, stepping closer with a languid swishswish of his large overcoat. “It’s difficult to alter without any remarkable change or err. However,” he droned, “it is incredibly similar to the Stone Tongued Elixir. Do you know what the one, unique, ingredient in that brew is in comparison to our assigned project today, Prefect?”
You sighed fuzz.
“Stone,” he said, reaching out to pluck another bit of gravel from your hair.
Crewel brushed his hands against his vest and you debated if it’d be worth it to try jumping out of the window and escape while you still had at least some face.
“I’ve been kind enough to look the other way when you break curfew so that you may continue your… nightly excursions with a certain upperclassman,” he droned, and that open window was looking even more tempting. “But please at least give me the courtesy of cleaning up the evidence before attending my class in the mornings, yes?”
“Yes, sir,” you tried to say, but it just sounded like a busted landline.
.
.
“Hello, Child of Man,” Malleus beamed, his lips curling pleasantly at the corners. His usual trio were flanking his hind, all watching with varying degrees of interest that ranged from sharp curiosity (Lilia) to outright hostility (Sebek). “Would you care to accompany me for lunch?”
You opened your mouth and all that came out was the fucking AOL dial tone.
Lilia doubled over laughing and Malleus tilted his head at you like a dog listening to a whistle tone.
“Pardon?” He blinked.
“BZZZZZZ,” you said, miserable, and Lilia just laughed harder.
.
.
‘Two days left,’ you reminded yourself miserably. You had just under forty-eight wretched hours to not only complete your initial Date Objective, but also somehow do that whole thing while making up for the ego-crushing failures of your first two failures.
There was a Spelldrive match after classes today—another attempt for Leona to try and get one up on Malleus’s ‘Hall of Fame Worthy’ record before the pair of them aged out of the competition. And maybe that would be perfect! That was always sort of a Thing in teen movies, right? The big, heart wrenching, confession delivered on the field of whatever sport was in season. The fated couple lit all prettily beneath the glaring overhead lights and artfully drenched in a very timely shower of rain. This whole situation was practically writing itself.
So you tucked yourself into a warm, cozy, sweater fit for the breezy day and inevitable aesthetic downpour, and went to sit out in the stands. Which was your first mistake, because the match was being held on Savanaclaw’s practice field. So immediately you could feel sweat pooling along your lower back and along your brow as the magical, overhead, sunshine did its best to seer the flesh right off your bones. Malleus moved to step out onto the field and you went to wave at him enthusiastically, only to catch sight of the giant pit stains steeped into your stupid sweater. The dark spots opened up like the gaping maw on a beast, determined to derive its entire sustenance from your embarrassment alone. You clamped your arms back down to your sides and immediately began questioning the universe at large. Were you a murderer in a past life? Someone who scammed old ladies out of their pensions? What other reason could there be for the entire fucking cosmos to just perpetually go ‘hey, how about we make things worse.’
The game was probably going well or something, but you were swimming in so much swampy body heat at this point that you were starting to get dizzy.
With a sigh, you pulled the cute, wool, deathtrap over your head and tossed it aside—ruffling your sweat sticky hair for good measure to try and get some airflow going. It wasn’t the most dignified look or whatever, sitting there in only the thin cotton undershirt of your uniform and half drowned in your own secretions, but at least you weren’t in imminent danger of dying of heat stroke anymore. You leaned back on your elbows with another much more contented sigh and gave yourself a moment to let the last of that hot nausea settle.
“Oi! You horned bastard! Watch where you’re—”
There was a swirl of spitting green sparks and you looked back out onto the field just in time to get absolutely decimated by a Spelldrive disc to the face.
.
.
“He really didn’t mean it,” Lilia said, but he was laughing so hard into his fist that it was hard to make out anything beyond merry gurgling. “In fact, he’s really very upset about the whole thing.”
You stared blankly at the off-white walls of the infirmary, wondering how it was possible for one person’s luck to be this bad.
“Where is he?” you asked. Your tongue felt thick and sluggish.
“I don’t think he would appreciate me saying that he was off hiding—pouting, even,” the fey tutted, floating up to sit cross-legged at your eyelevel. “But I don’t believe there’s a much more accurate way of putting it.”
“Why would he be hiding?” you trudged forward again, mouth still entirely uncooperative. “I wanted to ask him something,” you admitted, chronically dejected and acutely brain damaged.
“Did you now?” Lilia grinned, something mischievous and far too knowing lighting his wine-red eyes.
You nodded. You could feel the tug of the bandages around your forehead.
“Well, I’ll ask that you be patient with him,” he sighed fondly, reaching out to pat your cheek. “For all his years, our Prince is still a bit stunted.”
“Oh, please! He’s six and a half feet tall!” you complained.
Lilia laughed again, doubling over in the air and doing a full roll about—like a pill bug.
“Oh, dear,” he snickered, wiping a tear from his eye as he straightened back out to lounge upside down by one of the rafters. “You do deserve each other.”
.
.
This was it. The final countdown. Friday.
The Unbirthday Party was this afternoon, and with God and the Heavens as your witness, you would be dragging Malleus Draconia there with you if it was the last thing you did.
‘The hardest part is supposed to be the rejection,’ you thought bitterly. ‘Not that crap leading up to it. This is bullshit. I want a refund.’
But no, if the Universe was going to be so cruel to you, then you were just going to have to be needlessly paranoid and prepared in advance. You set aside two spare sets of clothing and an umbrella. You packed an entire feast’s worth of provisions in case a fucking hole decided to open up in the ground or something and trap you in a cave for a week. You scribbled a little ‘Would you please go with me to the Unbirthday Party today’ on not one, or two, but three separate notes. Each in a different pocket. And laminated. And, perhaps most daring of all, you walked up to Ace and Deuce that morning with a stiff upper lip and an even stiffer spine.
“I’m going to ask Tsunotarou to come to the Unbirthday Party today,” you told them, fighting the urge to twist your hands into your jacket sleeves.
“What?” Ace choked, just as Deuce stepped in to clobber him over the back of the head and tell you very sweetly that he was sure that the House Warden would appreciate that very much.
“You must like him a lot,” your blue haired friend said, polite but clearly also at least a little unnerved.
“Yeah,” you sighed miserably, thinking of each and every horrible failure as the world at large fought your stupid affections at every turn. “I guess I do.”
So you went about your day like a soldier trudging through a warzone—always at the ready for something unknowable to fuck you over yet again. You looked twice around every corner, always let someone else walk through a doorway first, immediately spritzed Azul in the face with a spray bottle when he tried to start a conversation. It wasn’t paranoia when you knew the universe was out to get you.
The school day was coming to an end and so far you’d managed to avoid any catastrophes. When you caught sight Malleus off in the distance, you had to fight down the sudden swell of dueling panic and hope that blocked off your throat. You made eye contact with the fey prince from across the near empty corridor and he seemed to straighten. You took a deep breath and took one step forward, then another.
“Tsunotarou!” you called cheerfully. “I was wondering if you—”
“FIRE!” Crowley wailed, careening around the corner with all the urgency of someone who very much genuinely cared about the safety of their school and all its inhabitants. Which was outright ridiculous. His glowing, golden, eyes locked on you like you’d been the target of this caterwauling all along, and you wanted to scream. “Ah! My most darling and favorite of Prefects! You have to help! There’s a fire in—”
“No,” you snarled, like some great monster of old. And you watched the Headmaster pale beneath his bird mask. You reached out to pat his shoulder with a pleasantly threatening thump. thump. thump. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to sort it out on your own, sir. Have a lovely afternoon!”
And before you could chicken out, or something else could happen—like a tornado ripping the entire school up at its base and flinging you into Oz—you rushed forward and latched onto Malleus’s sleeve with a wide, panicked, sort of look in your eyes. Hisown eyes went round and wide, but he didn’t pull away, so step one complete.
“Please come to Heartslaybul’s Unbirthday Party with me!” You entreated. “As my date! With me! Together!” you word vomited, clutching at his sleeve even tighter.
“Oh,” Malleus breathed—those sharp, reptilian, pupils of his jumping into something soft and huge that swallowed the green of his irises in a sea of black. A pale, rose, pink crept along the tips of his pointed ears and you could feel your own cheeks blazing like a bonfire.
“Yup,” you nodded lamely, realizing you were still clutching his hand like a starving leper.
“Lilia had mentioned that you might…” he trailed off, gaze sliding to your fingers tangled beside his. “I hadn’t thought that—well…” He cleared his throat and stood to his full height with a puff that almost looked prideful. “Nevertheless,” he grinned, almost shy, and offered you his arm. “Shall we?”
You were going to die. Keel over. That would be the cosmos’s final strike against you. But though your heart beat like a rapid drum in your chest, you didn’t actually collapse in cardiac arrest. Your blood felt warm, but not with fever. It was… You’d actually done it!
You fought the urge to squeal and instead ducked excitedly against Malleus’s side with a secret little fist bump. His arm wound snuggly through yours and you were still too high on the thrill of victory to even consider being embarrassed about it.
“It may surprise you to know,” he said as you walked together towards the Queen of Heart’s Dormitory. “That I actually was attempting to ask something similar of you for this past week as well.”
“Really?” you gaped.
He nodded. “But it seemed as though fate itself was conspiring against me. The first evening went poorly, and then the next day you’d been cursed into silence. And you even ended up injured during one of my attempts.”
“The Spelldrive disc?” you blinked.
“Unfortunately,” Malleus sighed, leading you towards the familiar rose gardens. Which were lovely as always, and perfectly well painted for the afternoon’s festivities, and—
And… also on fire.
“Well what do you know…” you mumbled as you watched a furious Riddle chase a screeching Ace through the flaming fields. Trey had his head in his hands. Cater was filming the whole thing with an artful smear of ash drawn across his cheek.
Malleus made a low rumble of discontentment and you immediately swung the pair of you around to start heading back towards the Mirror Chamber.
“Not to worry!” you beamed, pointedly jostling the full picnic lunch in your bag. Sure, it hadn’t ended up being a gaping hole that had dragged you straight into the bowels of the abyss, but hey. Hellfire was hellfire. “I came prepared.”
“So did I,” Malleus smirked, the points of his canines peaking out of his lower lip. He twisted his fingers and the pair of you were surrounded in puffs of floating, sparkling, green lights.
And despite the Universe technically, yet again, having come out on top and flipped you and your date the proverbial middle finger, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be too upset at all.
.
.
#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#Malleus Draconia x Reader#Malleus x Reader#Malleus Draconia#Malleus x Yuu#My Writing#Commission#Pity Party
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PLS PLS WRITE THE PLATONIC YANDERE MIGUEL OHARA FIC IM BEGGINF 🙏🙏🙏🧎♂️🧎♂️🧎♂️🧎♂️🧎♂️WE NEED MORE PLATONIC FICS OF THIS MAN
(Thank you for reading this and have a great day!!)
I definitely see dad Miguel treating reader like a child, no matter what age you are. You could be a strong, independent woman, and to Miguel... you're a baby🥺 Everytime you get frustrated when he tells you no, or doesn't allow you to do what you want, he thinks you look absolutely adorable, your brows furrowed and your nostrils flared, and Miguel just has to just lean down to your level and you think that he's gonna offer you an explanation and in his mind, he does, but all he really says is-
"I know what's best for you, mija."
And if you dare to say "you're not my dad!", he won't say anything because yeah, you're right, but he will stare at you intimidatingly until you either take your words back or change the topic.
I think Miguel is not someone who talks much (but he still expects you to converse with him regularly) and so when he doesn't wanna argue with you, he may or may not shoot a web to seal your lips shut, just so that you give him enough time to explain (which again he doesnt), but he does use this time to tell you that you're grounded and then again, uses his strength against you to pick you up like a little bratty kitten and drop you back to your room.
I also think that Miguel definitely sees you as this helpless creature that would absolutely DIE without him. It doesn't matter if you're a spider-person like him, no. To him, you're just a frail kitten that needs papa Miguel's help to shelter her from the pouring rain and bubble wrap you and cuddle you and just- protect you from this all too harsh world.
And you could be trying to break free from his grasp, going of about how he didnt need you to pull you from your universe, how you had your life under control and what not, and Miguel would just sigh and shake his head and mutter "Teenagers🙄" EVEN IF YOU'RE AN ADULT.
Miguel isnt someone who talks about his feelings, definitely not at first, he just bottles everything up until the lid pops off and someone else has to face his fury. BUT that doesn't he doesn't expect you to talk about yours. He's super observant so the moment he notices the slightest change in your mood, or the way you breathe, oh he's bugging you to tell him whats wrong. I mean he's breathing down your neck, which as you already know isnt great because he is the only person you're allowed to talk to (minus Peter B Parker and Mayday), and eventually, he may even tie you upside down with his web to make you talk. And he's just nodding and offering up solutions/therapeutic advices (not really, they're just compromises) while you're getting blood rush from hanging off the ceiling for so long.
Also going back to the "you're not my dad!" thing, I think if you say it enough times, it does start to hurt him and eventually he reaches a breaking point where he does end up getting mad and bares his teeth at you as he yells "I AM, NOW! AND IF YOU DON'T START LISTENING TO ME MIJA, YOU WILL REGRET IT! NOW, MARCH OFF TO YOUR ROOM!" And sure, you get spooked enough to run off, but not before you yell like a very cliche, angsty teen "I hate you!" and you slam your door close before he could scold you again. He still comes right up to your door, probably to ground you even more, but he doesnt have the heart to open the door when he hears your sobs. Damn, now you just broke his heart. So, Miguel leaves, deciding its best that you two get some space to cool off.
Now I see Miguel as the type of dad who doesnt really apologise (mostly because he doesn't feel like he's done anything wrong) but instead offers a parley or a white flag of sorts in the form of food (like some cut up fruits and veggies, or even your fav takeout) and sure, his heart is still heavy with guilt, even more so when he sees your swollen red eyes indicating how you've been crying for days, so he clears his throat, maybe shifts in his seat a little and asks about your day or something random, heartbreak intensifying 100X when you refuse to talk to him, making him resort to something thats... uncomfortable for you both.
A hug.
I mean this has to be the most awkward hug in history, because Miguel just swoops you up and places you in his lap, pulling you to his chest and telling you that he's not letting go until you talk. STILL NOT APOLOGISING, I mean there is a greater likelihood that you may end up apologising to him but Miguel sure as hell isnt saying the word "sorry" (unless you're dead, specifically if u die in his arms hehe).
#yandere miguel x reader#yandere spiderverse#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere atsv#yandere x reader#platonic miguel#miguel x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman atsv#platonic yanderes#platonic
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vinnies streaming and yn kisses his cheek not knowing hes streaming and vinnie covers the camera but the chat goes crazy cause they saw yn
CAUGHT ON CAMERA
pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader
warnings; cussing, use of pet names, overall fluff, if i missed anything lmk !!
summary; you accidentally kiss vinnie while he’s streaming, forgetting your relationship isn’t public yet
your relationship with vinnie is pretty private for the most part. his fans know he’s no longer single, they just don’t know who the lucky girl is.
you knew pretty quickly that vinnie’s fanbase can get super overprotective and jealous, as if they knew him in real life.
it worried you at first, wondering if this was going to be an issue for you, but you realized that if you really wanted this to work with vinnie, you’d get past that minor obstacle.
so far you have, some days are tougher than others, but you have vinnie with you to make it better.
the two of you haven’t been together for too long, only about six months, but you knew vinnie was the best guy you’ve ever been with.
the love the two of you have for each other is endless, and you know he’d say the same thing if asked.
walking into vinnie’s room, you smile when you see him playing one of his favorite games again.
it makes you happy to see, he’s been pretty busy the past few days, which is good, but you know how much he loves his video games.
vinnie turns around and see’s you laying on his bed with hera, he gives you a smile and mouths ‘i love you’ before turning back to his game.
you wonder why he didn’t say the words but don’t take too much consideration into it. instead, you lay on your stomach as you scroll through your phone, occasionally petting the cat beside you.
about twenty minutes later you soon get bored of your phone and decide to go see how vinnie’s doing.
walking over to his gaming setup, you wrap your arms around the boy from behind and duck your head down to kiss his cheek.
you continue to do so but soon stop when you hear a gasp come from vinnie. you look up and see he’s covering his camera while looking at you.
“what are you doing?” the question doesn’t come out as harsh, but you can’t help but feel a sting in your chest when asked.
“kissing you?” you ask back as if it wasn’t obvious as to what you just did.
you stand up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “can i not kiss you?” you ask once the room became silent.
the two of you look at each other for a moment, you move your gaze from your boyfriend to behind him, and that’s when you realize.
“oh shit,” you quietly say, covering your mouth so you don’t laugh. “i’m sorry, baby.”
vinnie turns his attention to his pc for a second, and just as he thought, the chat is going crazy with questions.
“secrets out now.” vinnie says before moving his hand away from his camera. once he does, you watch as his chat floods in with questions and compliments.
pushing vinnie’s chair out a bit, you go to sit on his lap, his hands immediately finding their home on your waist.
the minute he does that you watch as people freak out over that mere interaction. one that the two of you are so used to, but everyone else is not.
“well guys,” vinnie starts as he pauses his game to talk to his chat. “this is y/n, and she’s the girl i’ve been dating for the last six months, the best six months.” he says, looking at you when he says the last few words.
you smile and say hello to everyone. you watch as the questions and compliments continue, but you also see some not so nice things, too.
vinnie can tell you’re tensing up while reading the chat, he squeezes your hip lightly to let you know that he’s here and everything is okay.
you put on a smile and answer any questions people might have. vinnie watches you talk to his fans and can’t help but smile.
he knows there will be good times and bad, but also knows you’re the strongest woman in the world and as long as he’s beside you, you’ll be okay.
before the two of you know it hours have passed and it’s now dark outside. vinnie taps your thigh and you stand up, walking to stand behind his chair.
you watch as vinnie wraps up the stream and tells everyone he’ll be back either the next day or day after.
once he turns off his pc, you smile and go to kiss him. he wraps his arms around your waist while yours go to his neck.
“i love you.” he tells you, you smile and blush, although you’ve heard those words before.
“i love you more, vin. im so glad that went well.” you tell him, vinnie nods in agreement.
the two of you know whatever people say about you or vinnie or the two of you together isn’t true, it could all just be lies or rumors.
as long as the two of you have each other, everything will forever be alright.
hiiii i hope you guys liked this !!! i’m sorry it’s taking me so long to update yall 🥲 work’s busy and i’m always exhausted when i get home
but i got this up and i really like how it turned out !!! i hope you all like it too !!
TAGLIST: @forevergirlposts , @lyndys , @cosmicanakin , @kriissy4gov , @lovingsturniolo , @supabhad , @laylasbunbunny , @slvthrs , @violet0182 , @visualbutterflysworld , @bernelflo , @kayleiggh , @st4rswrld , @leqonsluv3r , @hallecarey1
#vhackerr#vinniehacker#vincent hacker#vvhacker#vinnie hacker smut#vinniehackerfanfic#vinnie hacker blurb#vinnie hacker fluff#vinnie hacker imagines#vinnie x reader#vinnie x y/n
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Tranquil SAGAU - Part 6
-> Part 1
-> Part 5
With Dvalin gone, you were left basically homeless. Not that it was much of an issue, not really. The forests had been very kind to you -- you could easily live the life of a hermit if you so wished, without having to worry about food, water, shelter or animal attacks.
But it would also be horribly lonely. No compassionate silence, no background noise and buzz of other people scurrying around and going about their day without minding you, no one to speak to if you ever felt the need to.
You liked being alone, but you were still human and humans were social animals.
Soooooo, you promptly asked Crepus about working in his Winery in exchange for accommodations, because 'one that asks, does not stray'... or something like that anyways. Your sister always made her life that much harder because she outright refused to ask for help even when hopelessly lost or overwhelmed, so there must be something to the saying at least.
"You don't have to work to earn your keep, (Name). I'd be more than happy to house you as my guest for however long you want!" is what Crepus 'Sunshine Personified' Ragnvindr responded with.
Crepus used Puppy Eyes, it was super effective!
You laid defeated, a puddle of cuteness overload once again wishing for sunglasses to protect yourself from the blinding smiles and imaginary wagging tails.
Crepus was horrible for your heart.
Still, you would go insane if left with nothing to do for days at a time, so you went to turn the Ragnvindr library upside down with Crepus' blessing, a bunch of notebooks, a bunch of pens and a delusion that you'd do any actual studying in there.
This was Teyvat, but this wasn't Genshin Impact -- a library wouldn't have interesting lore, it'd have dry history and even drier geography, accompanied by boring economics and even more boring politics (which was a damn shame too, politics were so interesting when written right).
You never quite had a head for those, prefering subjects with more practical applications that could be practiced instead of having to be beaten into your thick skull until you memorized it just long enough to write the exam.
Though for some ungodly reason you still remembered that onions were actually leaves. It was one of the very few things you remembered from school, actually.
Probably the trauma speaking.
Still, you did find some interesting books - a diary speaking of the Decarabian rule, for example.
Today, I don my very own Windblume.
I can only hope Lord Decarabian never learns of its' significance.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
The winds are particularly harsh today.
I am afraid, but I smile and play my lyre as if nothing were happening at all, like I always do.
Sometimes, I forget if what I do is to reasure the people or to delude myself that everything is as it should be...
Then again, does it matter when the result remains the same?
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
The people are growing restless.
Their yearning for freedom gave birth to a small wind spirit that seems fond of my playing. It is an adorable being, even if it has yet to communicate with us.
It remind me of a newborn puppy.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
The people are planning a rebellion.
I want to help, but how can I? I am no soldier, my strength lays with the pen and the lyre, not with the sword.
Ragnvindr told me there was no need for more warriors, that I was doing enough by keeping the morale up with my performances... I am hesistant to believe him.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
The little spirit has spoken for the first time today.
It said that it knew the song I was playing, despite it being a new piece I was in the midst of creating, and sang along to lyrics I had yet to write.
It was strange, but it made me happy nonetheless.
Perhaps I was strange too, for feeling that way.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
You had a suspicion on who the author of the diary was by that point. Maybe Crepus would be open to giving this diary to Venti, instead of it gathering dust on the shelf?
Idly, you wondered how it had survived so long, but figured Ragnvindr and his descendants took good care of it.
I met Ragnvindr today.
Something compelled me to share my worries with him, even though I knew he had enough weight on his shoulders and I ought not to add more.
"If you cannot trust in yourself, then trust in me and my trust in you instead" he told me.
It helped.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
Meetings regarding the rebellion are more and more frequent. Ragnvindr, alongside a man named Amos, have convinced the Gunnhildr clan to participate against all odds.
I can understand their hesitance. Should we fail to kill Lord Decarabian, their legacy would be no more.
I admire their bravery.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
The wind has long since realized change is imminent, even when Lord Decarabian himself has not - the little spirit said so.
King of Gales indeed, even the wind has rebelled against him.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
Ragnvindr speaks of a bad premonition.
In truth, my heart is uneasy as well, but how can I share those feelings with anyone but myself? It is not the time to bother others with my issues -- it is time to reassure everyone, to rouse their spirit and not to let fear take root even as they stand against a God. It is my duty as a bard and as a fellow rebel.
The Windblume feels particularly heavy as I write this.
I fear I will not live to see tomorrow's sunset, but I fear for my dearest friends and for Mondstadt even more.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
My little spirit friend is still without a name.
I know it does not bother them, they are the wind itself after all, but I would still like to give them a name others can remember them by.
A name that they can remember me by once I pass on, selfish as it is to bind an immortal to a memory.
But I am selfish, even if Ragnvindr may see me as a paragon of virtue. I am a human and to be human is to be flawed. I am not ashamed of it, even if I often feel guilty for it.
Perhaps it will be the very last thing I achieve in this life of mine.
It is hard to name them.
I've thought of many names up until now.
Caelus. Liberius. Aella. Calliope. Achill. Carmine. Hilarius. Hanne. Zephyrinus. Dieter. Sascha. Scilla. Paulus. Notus. Veronica. Agna. Vergil.
Those are just a few of the ones I discarded.
None fit.
I can only hope the right name reveals itself when it is time.
. . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆
That was the last entry.
You closed the diary and carefully put it aside.
☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨
It was not supposed to be mostly nameless bard POV via old diary.
It really wasn't.
Mans literally kidnapped the chapter entirely against my will while I was half asleep yesterday and attempting to write at nearly midnight and I was powerless to stop it, on god.
But hey, at least we got potential Venti bonding set up for the future?
I was planning for more fluff, but I also have no outline for this, so my chapters have a chance of getting kidnapped at any time.
✨BY THE WAY!!!!✨
The charm of spontaneous writing, I guess?
If you have something you want to happen - for example we're in the library right now, so maybe you want a book about a specific tidbit to appear - do let me know, maybe I'll write it in!
I had 2 tests and 1 retake yesterday and holy shit i got through all of them and tomorrow is last day of uni then it's ✨HOLIDAYS✨
✨Taglist✨
@game-savvy @chaoticfivesworld @mmeatt @avalordream @ymechi @andromeda-gay @naynayaa @undecidingfate @thedevioussmirk @tumb3ld0wn @balaur-bondoc @yi-chii @yarabutterfly @nervouseaglelover @vexingpraedyth @indelible-colouring-markers @whitefantasy21-blog @kapitankarate
#genshin sagau#sagau x reader#sagau#genshin impact#x reader#genshin x reader#isekai#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader#x gn y/n#self aware genshin
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Blood Ties Chapter 19
Series Masterlist
Warnings: strong depictions of illness; very minor suggestive situations
A/N: Super angsty with generous amounts of cuteness. Reader will eventually get to be a badass. But this chapter focuses on articulating the grave situation.
You were pacing outside the bedroom door, wringing your hands just to keep as many parts of your body as possible moving so you wouldn’t combust. Hershel had insisted you wait outside in case it was something possibly contagious that took Daryl down. Even though you’d spent a lot of time close to him, you were showing no symptoms, so the veterinarian thought it best to be safe rather than sorry.
You could hear Daryl coughing through the door, the sound sudden and harsh, followed by a groan each time that gave you hope that he’d possibly woke up. He’d been dead weight in your arms when everyone had burst in to help. The others had returned just in time, a heavy coat and gloves in tow for Daryl like you had requested. Rick and T-Dog had carried him up the stairs while Lori and Carol put forth effort to keep you back. You had shrugged them off and followed until Hershel stepped in.
“Y/N, you’re gonna pace a groove into the floorboards.” Carol stood by, watching you, refusing to go about her evening duties and leave you alone. “Y/N.”
You finally paused but didn’t look at her. She didn’t get a chance to comfort you before the door opened. Hershel and Maggie stepped out, whispering between themselves in a way that made your chest tighten.
“I’ll go get Beth and Carol to help me make a list. Carol?” The eldest Greene placed a hand on Carol’s arm, giving her enough time to assess you before she reluctantly followed.
“Is he okay?” You asked quietly. You and Hershel were alone outside the door now, the old man’s face smooth with a calm you wished you could muster.
“He likely had a virus that developed into pneumonia from breathing in the cold air. His lungs are full of fluid and inflamed, which accounts for the rattle when he breathes and, of course, the cough.”
“I know what pneumonia it is.” You interjected, a hint of irritation lacing your tone. “What needs to happen?”
“Ideally, we’d start an IV with fluids and antibiotics. If we can get the fluids and manage some oral antibiotics, we can make those work too. He needs those two things for certain. Fever reducers and cough suppressants would be beneficial. I will check for Tylenol in my things, though I fear I may have given you the last.”
You crossed your arms above your belly, hugging yourself tightly, and bounced on the balls of your feet, your brain running on overdrive. “Maggie’s making a list?” Hershel nodded, hanging the stethoscope around his neck. “Okay, I’ll go see when we can leave.”
“Y/N, wait.” For an old man, he sure moved quickly, stepping into your path. You knew what he would say. He would advise you not to go, that you shouldn’t put your baby in danger. For fuck sake, you knew that. “I can’t tell you what to do. We’ve established that. And I know that Daryl means a lot to you.”
“With the utmost respect, Hershel, please get to the point.” Your tone was level though inside, you felt like yourself crumbling. The world just took and took and when you would start to feel safe, it didn’t hesitate to remind you of the devastation it could bring.
“I’d like you to stay with Daryl.” Your rebuttal melted on your tongue when he held up a hand. “I will do everything in my power to care for him but I need to be able to care for you too. Maggie is capable. She’ll have help. Daryl needs you here.”
“I just—”
“There will be no getting him to cooperate if he finds out you left. You know this.”
You threw back your head and let your arms fall. Of course he was right. And once again, you felt useless. “I know.”
“You know, you are doing more for that man in there than anyone in this group ever could hope to do and I’m not just speaking of the child.” He smiled at you with such kindness. It reminded you of your father, your eyes burning. “Remember that.”
You nodded and sniffed. The old man’s footsteps retreated as you leaned your forehead against the door. Daryl was coughing on the other side. Hershel would have told you if you shouldn’t go in. Most strains of pneumonia were not contagious beyond the virus or bacteria that caused them. If you hadn’t contracted the cold or flu that Daryl had before this, it was unlikely you’d be infected now.
Turning the knob, you pushed on the door, steadily controlling how quickly it opened to keep it from making a lot of noise. Daryl was under the blankets, one arm lying across his stomach and the other at his side. His face was tilted away from you.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt but if you ventured to guess, he was likely not wearing anything. Hershel would have checked for bites. The hunter wouldn’t have kept that hidden. You knew that but maybe they didn’t.
His chest rattled and wheezed with each breath, appearing to take a lot more effort than should be necessary. You wondered if they would search for oxygen tanks. Maggie is capable. They would. You needed to stay right there and not try to micromanage. Daryl needed you more.
There was already an old, cushioned chair next to the bed. Perhaps Hershel used it or maybe Maggie moved it there for you. Regardless, you lowered yourself into it, remaining on the edge so you could easily reach Daryl’s hand.
His skin was overly warm and dry, the sound accompanying each labored breath was somehow worse at that proximity. Seeing him so still reminded you of finding him injured back at the farm, how afraid you had been at the thought of losing him. That fear had experienced then resurfaced with a vengeance, squeezing your lungs so tightly that you imagined Daryl could breathe with more ease in that moment.
“Prolly shouldn’t be in here.”
You visibly startled, nearly sliding off the edge of the chair. “Jesus, Daryl, don’t do that.” You had to take a moment to get your heartrate under control before meeting his scarcely open eyes. It was as if whatever energy, whatever stubbornness, that had been keeping him going had just drained out of him. “How’re you feeling?”
“How ‘m I lookin’?” He wheezed. He coughed without opening his mouth until he could get his arm to obey him and cover the lower portion of his face. He inhaled his food like a human vacuum but at least he covered his mouth when he coughed.
“Fair point.” You took his hand again and held it between yours. He didn’t pull away.
“Just need a night an’ I can get back out there.”
You instinctively began to heat up in anger. How could he even think he was fit to be out of bed, much less hunt or take watch? How many times were you going to need to remind him that he needed to care for himself as well? After the initial desire to throttle him had passed, you leaned forward to rest your elbows on the mattress. “We’ve been over this. You can’t run yourself into the ground to take care of me, Thumper, or anyone else. You've done that. You’re really sick, Daryl. And I’m scared.”
“Ain’t gotta be scared.” His fingers wiggled weakly, slowly between your hands. You moved one away so he could squeeze the other. “Ain’t gonna be in this bed long.”
“You’ll be in this bed until Hershel says you can leave it.” You replied sternly. Despite the tears in your eyes, you firmly held his tired gaze.
He challenged you, indignation carved into every line of weariness. When you didn’t waver, he backed down, much to your relief. “Fine.” He coughed again, coming up off the pillow from the force of it. You released his hand and stood over him, grabbing the old pillow from the other side of the bed. Luckily the dust had been beaten from the fabrics before you were in that room. You slid an arm behind his neck to help him sit up a little, placing the pillow behind him. “Could’a done it myself. Ain’t a invalid.”
“I know you can do things yourself. You’re just not seeming to comprehend that you aren't alone anymore. That someone cares for you.” Loves you. You were still standing and took notice of the bowl of water on the table with a piece of fabric hanging over the edge. Very likely Maggie was trying to bring down the fever. Licking your lips, you dipped the damp material into the cool water and wrung out the excess. With the slightest hesitation, you sat down close to his hand and began to dab the feverish skin of his face. Daryl probably didn’t even realize he sighed when his eyes fluttered closed. “Just let me take care of you for once.”
Fever-bright blue reappeared to study you. He didn’t seem upset but the hunter was known for his sudden shifts in temperament. You simply continued what you were doing, moving on to his neck. He coughed weakly, bringing his arm toward his face while you moved yours to make room. The spell was brisk, your limbs trading again but you felt his fingers brush your swollen belly.
After another moment, Daryl grunted with a look of absolute feigned irritation. Though you knew you had won this round, you kept your expression neutral and leaned close to press a kiss to his forehead.
“Thank you.”
His eyes were closed but you didn’t miss the twitch at one corner of his lips. His only reply was another grunt.
The night was nearly unbearable. You had moved to the other side of the bed and sat cross-legged at his side. His breathing was labored and loud, the coughs frequent and painful. The more he rested, the less lucid he became during moments of wakefulness. His skin burned hotter as the fever climbed, your attempts to lower it all for naught.
Maggie and company were set to leave at first light but it wasn’t soon enough. Pleas fell from your lips each time Hershel came to check on each of you. He urged you to try and rest, even offering to bring Carol, Lori, or Beth to sit with the archer while you got some sleep. Your refusal was instantaneous. Eventually, he brought Beth with him and reasoned she could stay to watch over Daryl while you rested beside him, promising to wake you with any changes, good or bad.
You were exhausted, that you couldn’t deny. The baby rolled and kicked, honing in on your anxiousness, Hershel said. It was with a yawn that you reluctantly agreed. The Tylenol had finally been located, and you insisted on helping get Daryl to take it before lying down. He was resistant for only a moment before complying, simply because you started to cry. Hormones and exhaustion were not a great combination.
“You’ll wake me for anything?” You were propped on your elbows, preparing to curl up next to the furnace that was your boyfriend? Partner? Significant other? Whatever. You’d figure that part when he was better.
“Anything at all. I promise.” Beth smiled reassuringly and patted your ankle.
You had been made aware that anything not in use had been packed and was ready in case there was a need to flee. That would leave ample time for Daryl to be moved safely. The team of Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog would go in search of what was needed, likely to be gone the entire day to venture further out. The local homes and businesses had already been looted. In essence, there was nothing more to be done except keep the archer comfortable and more importantly, alive.
“Okay.” You conceded, rolling onto your side to face Daryl as he coughed, a spasm of pain on his face before he settled again. “I’m right here.” You wrapped your fingers around his and held on loosely, closing your eyes to sink quickly into sleep.
You heard the coughs before registering that your name was being called— no. It was being shouted. You shot straight up, hands immediately fumbling for Daryl. He was upright as well, leaning over his lap and arms braced against his chest to hold the blanket in place, cognizant enough during even such a paroxysm of hacking to hide his marred chest. With both the candle, nearly spent after what most of been a few hours rest for you, and the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside, you could see the redness on his skin, veins and tendons bulging from the force.
“It’s okay. Daryl, it’s—where’s Hershel?” Your eyes remained on him, hand rubbing circles over his upper back. “Beth?” You looked at her then, found her staring at Daryl with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Fear? Hopelessness? The girl flinched at the sound of her name, only then seeming to hear your question.
“He went to check if we have any tea bags.” She had lost so many, so much already. So young, still a child in that world. She was frozen, her eyes beginning to shine with moisture.
Daryl’s fit was calming, each wet, wheezing gasp making the vice around your heart clench tighter. “Beth. Beth, look at me.” You were scared. No, you were terrified of losing Daryl. When the girl swallowed hard and finally turned her head to face you, you smiled with as much reassurance as you could scrape up around the dread stealing your own breath. Whatever you had, you would offer to Daryl. And to her. “He’ll be okay. Your dad’s gonna make sure of it.” You almost failed to hide the quiver in your voice. “Can you go see if we have any more clean scraps of cloth? I’d rather not have him spitting what he coughs up onto the floor.”
Beth nodded and spared one more lingering glance at Daryl, then she left the room.
“Nice.” Daryl said with a desperate inhale. “Almost… believed ya myself.” He was still sitting up with his shoulders slumped, nearly folded onto his lap. You were still tenderly rubbing circles over his back.
“You will be okay.” You whispered, laying your forehead against his shoulder blade, smiling when he didn’t react to your skin pressing against a particularly deep scar. Each breath vibrated where you rested. “Here.” You sniffed and pulled away one of the pillows. “Lay on your stomach. It opens up your lungs.”
The hunter looked over his shoulder tiredly as if considering whether or not it was worth the effort. There was a small jerk of his chin that you perceived as a nod, and then he was turning languidly to stretch out on his stomach. He coughed and buried his face in the pillow. You hadn’t noticed he was shivering before then. The blanket was twisted around his legs, making it more difficult to pull it up to the middle of his back.
“S’miserable.” The words were muffled but decipherable.
“I know.” You were getting to your feet, pressing your hands into the small of your back to soothe the ache there. The baby moved in what felt like a roll. “Thumper’s doing gymnastics.” Daryl turned his head toward the chair on his side of the bed just as you sat down and dipped the cloth into the bowl of cool water, his arm immediately outstretched so that the back of his hand rested on top of your bump. “Let’s see if we can help the Tylenol with that fever.”
When the cool fabric touched the back of his neck, Daryl flinched. With his body fighting to regulate his temperature, it must have been quite the shock. You left it there for a moment before moving to dab the side of his face. Swiping the cloth over his back, you realized he once again was allowing you to see his scars, this time without the tension of rigid muscles that accompanied his shame and self-loathing. Maybe he just felt too horrible to care.
By the time Hershel lightly tapped on the door, Daryl was sleeping. The coughs were still present but with longer reprieves, the hunter so exhausted that the fits barely roused him.
“We found some tea. I regret not mentioning to Maggie that honey could be beneficial.” One plastic cup in one hand was steaming, a torn piece of flannel wrapped around it to ensure he didn’t burn himself. The other hand held a refilled bottle of water, likely from boiling some of the snow.
Your mind drifted to how different this winter was so different from the ones before the turn. Georgia wasn’t usually a state to receive that amount of snow and such low temperatures. Maybe the lack of human activity had altered the weather patterns. Less cars, less pollution, less deforestation. You weren’t an expert but there had to be something different. If he was real, maybe god just saw fit to throw a few more curveballs at your little group. As if the threat of being eaten alive by the dead wasn’t enough.
Shaking your head clear, you brushed your fingertips across Daryl’s forehead. “They left?” Hershel nodded. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet.
“Rick seemed to think this was urgent enough to send them out before dawn. I can’t say I’m thrilled to see my daughter driving away into the night but I am inclined to agree with his judgment.”
Daryl could die. It was urgent but for more than any practical reason Rick could suggest. It was so much deeper than that. “He’s asleep. Should I wake him up to drink it?” You placed the fabric back in the water.
“As much as I’d like him to rest, he also needs to avoid dehydration.” He raised the cup slightly. “Peppermint tea is caffeine free but we had nothing to sweeten it. We can only hope he’s thirsty enough to not care. If he’d prefer, I also brought some water.”
Sighing, you nodded and leaned forward to be in Daryl’s line of sight once he awakened. “Daryl. Wake up.” You pulled the blanket up to cover his back. Hershel had seen the scars more than once, you knew that, but you were almost certain Daryl would have appreciated the effort.
With a groan of protest, he opened his eyes to slits. “What?”
“Hershel brought you some tea.”
“Ain’t thirsty.” He closed his eyes.
“Bullshit.” You challenged flatly. “Come on, sit up.”
His eyes opened a little wider then, sheer stubbornness driving him to glare at you. “M’comfortable.”
“Tough titty.”
His expression smoothed out, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Nah, s’real soft.” The hand that laid on your stomach drifted up, the back of his knuckles pressing lightly across the swell of your left breast.
Hershel cleared his throat. Daryl’s hand moved away at a speed you didn’t think he was capable of in his current state. You snorted when the fevered flush coloring his cheeks deepened with embarrassment.
Reaching a hand toward the veterinarian, you waited for him to cross the room and pass off the cups.
“Try to drink as much as you can, son.”
Daryl hummed, likely feeling too awkward to trust his voice. You smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Hershel.”
“No thanks necessary. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check in, but call down if you need anything sooner.”
“Okay.” The door clicked shut while you sat the cup of water down by the bowl and cloth.
“Why didn’cha…tell me the old man… was in here?” Daryl croaked, making a face so close to a pout that you found it adorable.
You chuckled. “I didn’t think you were gonna feel me up from your sick bed, sir.” He grumbled something incomprehensible but you honestly weren’t paying attention. If he wasn’t willing to sit up, you could have him raise his head just enough for you to help. “If you won’t sit up for me, could you at least lift your head and let me help you drink?”
“Y’ain’t gonna… stop houndin’… me ‘til I do, …are ya?” He turned his face into the pillow and coughed, staying there until he was sure it was over.
“Nope. You might as well just do what I ask.” You were smiling sweetly and batting your eyes when he finally moved his face back to you.
“All women nag… this much…or s’mine just special?” Along with the relentless wiggles of your unborn baby, butterflies stirred and fluttered. Even if it was difficult to look past the fact that he struggled to draw in enough air when speaking, you felt your skin—as well as your heart—warm.
His.
“You’re just lucky.” You nearly sing-songed, choosing not to question his verbiage. You knew you were his. He’d been rather clear about that, even if he hadn’t exactly used words to convey it. That was enough for you. Hearing it was just a bonus.
Daryl dragged his limbs and began to push up onto his forearms, but he abandoned the movement before his chest even lifted from the mattress. When he sighed, it was likely from resignation. He lifted and angled his head for you to adequately position the cup and pour a small amount of tea into his mouth.
“Needs sugar.” He commented a moment or two after swallowing. Shaking your head, you offered it again.
It took a substantial amount of time to finish the tea and a few sips of water. The sun’s appearance found you sitting on the edge of the mattress, running your fingers through Daryl’s hair. He had fallen asleep before finishing the tea, waking only just enough to cooperate with your efforts. Hershel had been in once, declaring that while the archer hadn’t improved, he hadn’t worsened either.
When he began to cough, you moved your hand from his hair to his back, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to provide any measure of comfort. Once he had settled, you used one of the flannel pieces Beth had retrieved to clean his mouth and the pillow. Hershel seemed pleased that the cough was productive. It was a disgusting reassurance but you’d take anything.
Daryl groaned and shivered, the fever relatively untouched by the Tylenol. The veterinarian had cautioned you that without the aid of antibiotics and soon, it was likely Daryl’s condition would deteriorate. Your hand stilled on this spine, the rattling of his lungs vibrating beneath your palm. Nearly overcome with an intense notion of foreboding, you turned your face toward the window, almost as if to summon back the team by sheer force of will alone.
“Please hurry.”
#murda writes#blood ties#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon angst#daryl angst#daryl#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl the walking dead#daryl dixon walking dead#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl smut#daryl dixon smut#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon twd
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THE AVEN + HANAHAKI THING YESSS I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG BECAUSE LIKE. I know it's always super angsty when it's the reader that gets hanahaki but rine having it. imagine pushing your s/o away because you don't think you can do a relationship rn just to get hit by the stupid idiot in love disease. damn sucks to be you man
(tbh hanahaki as fun as the angst is I love aventurine so much and usually just alter hanahaki to be like less deadly because a) I DONT WANT TO BE SAD and b) the whole guilt of "I developed hanahaki because of you now love me or I WILL die" feels strange to me)(but also yum angst and the consequences of pushing someone away) ((sorry I talk a lot teehee okay bye))
𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠. .
. . too bad he wasn't your darling anymore.
// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au
a/n: finally wrote the aventurine exes hanahaki au lol ,, had no idea how to finish this but i might make a part 2 !! :3
ever since you had started dating aventurine, you felt like you were a burden to him in some way. but you were never sure if you were actually a burden to him, or if that was your mind playing tricks on you.
but last week had just solidified your beliefs.
you both had fought over something petty--you couldn't be bothered to remember what it was--and harsh words had been thrown around in the process.
words that cut deep into you, practically making you bleed out.
and after that?
aventurine had ignored you for the rest of the entire week. he hadn't even glanced in your direction. it was fine if he needed some space to think, but he didn't even tell you, he just started fucking ignoring you.
your efforts to talk to him had just been met by blank uninterested violet eyes.
everything that happened in the last week had all led up to yesterday.
you stood in front of his door, swallowing your nerves. why were you so nervous?
after everything that happened, everything you felt, everything he said, you didn't think you could handle a relationship at that point.
so, when aventurine answered the door, his blonde hair unruly and lavender eyes tired, you took a deep breath and finally said the words you had been so scared of saying.
"i want to break up."
--
now, you were rethinking your decision.
on one hand, it felt like a large weight had been lifted off your shoulders.
on the other hand, breaking up with him had left you in your current predicament: crouched on the cold tiled floor of your apartment, hurling up bright yellow marigolds. you coughed them up, unwillingly watching as they hit your newly polished floor. they hit the ground ungracefully, clumped together with a disgusting mixture of mucus and blood. you gagged on the flowers as the sickly sweet smell of the marigolds hit you, making you feel lightheaded and sick to your stomach.
you didn't think you would get the disease again after aventurine asked you out.
you had it once, albeit briefly. it was before you had even talked to aventurine, too scared to do so. maybe it had been your shyness, or maybe you were just scared of rejection. you weren't too sure which, but it had caused you to cough out a few lemon yellow petals.
but, as quickly as the disease had started, it had ended. aventurine talked to you and started getting close to you, and your hanahaki had eventually diminished into nothing. after that, you thought it would never start again.
but you guessed you were wrong, since the disease decided to plague you.
marigold petals--slick with mucus--fell out your mouth as you coughed your lungs out. they fell almost gracefully onto the small flower pile.
you took fast and shaky breaths, collapsing. you were too exhausted to move, the hanahaki sucking all the life out of you.
--
it had been a week now, and the disease had just gotten worse. at this rate, it would only take a month or two until you suffocated on the fucking marigolds.
you could talk to aventurine, but he would probably just ignore you again.
you could get the surgery, but you would rather die than forget aventurine. you still loved him.
at this point, you couldn't do anything but hope that the disease would just somehow go away.
--
aventurine was growing increasingly worried as the days passed.
he hadn't seen you at all after you had broken up. sure, that was normal, but his gut told him something was wrong.
horrible thoughts of what could've happened to you plagued his mind, and he couldn't take it anymore.
he grabbed his keys, his coat, and headed towards your apartment.
maybe it was an invasion of privacy, but even your friends felt as if something were terribly wrong. he'd just check on you once, and never speak to you again. you'd be okay with that, right?
--
aventurine had knocked about a dozen times by now, but had received no answer.
he swallowed. he still had a spare key to your apartment, but what if you didn't want him to come in? what if you were just busy? what if he was breaching your privacy?
he took a shaky inhale.
fuck it.
--
he stepped inside your apartment, and was hit by the extremely potent smell of marigolds.
he glanced around, and froze at what he saw.
#୨୧ -- aventurine#aventurine x reader#aventurine#hsr aventurine#hanahaki#hanahaki au#modern#modern au#angst#hanahaki disease#light angst#shy reader#how to angst#aventurine come home#pls#might make a part 2#you can tell i've never been in a relationship before#anyways hopefully yhis was acceptable
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And for my grand finale of my Rolan brainrot thoughts, the moment you probably have all been waiting for:
Rolan NSFW Headcanons
MDNI
Disclaimer: If you think differently than what I write here that is totally okay! These are just opinions!
First and foremost, I believe he's a switch (or a Verse)! It can also depend on his partners preference, but he doesn't mind doing one or the other. I will say that he can have trouble bottoming/submitting super early on because it can be a very vulnerable experience, and he may get overwhelmed quickly. Will he admit that? Of course not, he's too prideful and his communication skills are horrid.
There's a lot of talk about with whether Rolan is a virgin or had a couple flings in the past during his time in Elturel, and I like either one! The most important thing is that he's definitely inexperienced. He doesn't know what he likes or dislikes yet, and would like to explore that with his partner once he's comfortable.
Bite him! Mark him! Give him hickies! Gods he goes absolutely insane for them, especially when he's on the receiving end. He would prefer all of it to be under the collar, but one of his favorite places is that tender spot right between the jaw and ear. It's one of the many ways to get him mewling. He'll definitely bite back if his partner likes it.
I would say he's pretty vanilla in general, but is open to trying something new if his partner is kinkier. It's something he would have to work up to as it can be intimidating, but with enough reassurances he's willing to try anything once. Besides, if he doesn't like it, he's pretty vocal about it and they know not to try again.
He wouldn't like being heavily restrained or gagged (at least at the same time), it feels too demeaning for him. I think he would like the idea of him being blindfolded, but would request that his partner keeps a hand on him at all times so he knows that they're still there. This would be a once in a while type of deal as it can get overwhelming quickly.
Speaking of dislikes: deliberate pain is a turnoff. Anything that would intentionally hurt he's not into. So things like whipping, harsh choking, smacking around, or any kind of pain infliction, he can't do it whether it's giving or receiving. (But he would still be into marking like I said earlier!) I don't think he would outright dislike degradation but those kinds of nights are on the rare side.
Now for the likes: Praise!!! For the love of the gods, praise this man, he loves it and his cock throbs when he's receiving it. It's the best way to get him worked up as well. Ordering him around is also good, he's very obedient and an incredible listener.
The act of intimacy is private for him, so public sex is definitely a big no. He wants everything to be private and only with his partner. He doesn't want to be anxious about getting caught while in the middle of things, it ruins his mood. Besides, his partner wants to keep his whines, moans, whimpers, and begging to themselves. They're such pretty sounds.
He tends to feel guilty whenever he's not in the mood or has to stop anything they're doing, it's instinctive and frustrates him. He knows he has no reason to feel guilty, his partner reassures that all the time, but sometimes that guilt crawls into the back of his mind. His depression and panic disorder cause him to have low libido, so he's not in the mood for intimacy most days. Though he's still just as satisfied with purely focusing on his partner and not himself. (When he works on himself and finds solutions to help him with his mental health, his libido increases!)
King of Oral Sex. After learning about his partner's body and practicing for a few sessions, he's incredible at it. It ends up being one of his favorite things to do, some nights he evens pleads for it, begging to taste them.
The best way his partner will find out he's horny is the way the base of his tail arches upward. That tail has a mind of its own, and he can't quite control it. He uses his tail a lot, using to either hold their thighs apart or wrap around their torso desperately. (Or if his partner is a tiefling/dragonborn, wrap around their tail!)
His more sensitive areas besides his neck are the insides of thighs and his pelvic area. If you play with his chest enough though, that becomes sensitive as well.
He definitely starts bringing in magic bedroom as soon as he gets comfortable. Imagine what they could do with some of these spells! Mage hand (or multiple of them), disguise self, entangle, maybe fly as well...ah, telekinesis is also a good one! How about enhance ability? If either him or his partner can't use words, they'll both gently cast detect thoughts to check in.
Aftercare is extremely important to him, whether he's giving or receiving it. He and his partner switch depending on who wants to do it that night. Though being on the receiving end of it, it makes him feel so loved. It won't take long for him to start purring, falling asleep in their arms. When it's his turn, he takes his time and is incredibly tender. He'll get anything they ask for and more.
(And we're done! I hope you enjoyed!!! I had a lot of fun making these and I hope to make more in the future when I reopen requests! If you have your own headcanons, please share!)
#forest-writes#rolan#bg3 rolan#holy rolan empire#rolan bg3#rolan x tav#rolan x reader#rolanites#rolan nation#rolan brainrot
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Corruption Ch13
(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)
Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12
Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? SMUT, Oral (m-receiving), grinding
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
One Month, Twenty Days Until D-Day
"Miguel, I said I'm fine now. No need to keep me on a lease," You said with a low whine.
"Every time I let you out of my sight, you seem to get injured. I can't have my little Spider escape again." Miguel grunted.
Hiding your flustered cheeks, you pouted towards Miguel. He could be so stubborn sometimes. Then again, he wasn't wrong either. You didn't want to admit it, but you were still aching in pain from your fight with Goblin.
"Alright," You huffed, resting your head against his shoulder.
Miguel had you sitting on his lap, his arm firmly around your waist. He was absorbed in his work, grunting to your small comments here and there. It brought a smile to your face. Miguel seemed so cruel but cared so much.
"Miguel, how come you don't want to at least take my blood sample anymore? You were so adamant before." You asked out of curiosity.
"Because once I knew it was you, I knew you wouldn't like it."
"Awe~"
--------
What a fucking lie.
"I know how much you dislike my experiments," Miguel continued, sweetening his words, "I wouldn't want my little Spider afraid of me anymore than she is now."
"Awe~ Miguel~" You cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck, "I was never afraid of you! Concerned, yes, but not afraid!"
Too easy.
"Hn, but I do hope you tell me how this happened. I am a scientist, after all, I have a curiosity to feed."
"You have to promise you won't get mad,"
Lord, you looked adorable with your little pout. Miguel couldn't help but give you a lazy stare, holding back the urge to bend you against his desk and fuck you. Miguel was craving you, but he had to wait. He needed to make sure it was safe for him to take his injection.
"I promise," Miguel sighed, already knowing everything.
He just wanted to distract himself from work and entertain you. Grunt lowly as you fixed yourself against his lap, Miguel gripped your waist. These frustrating human urges had to wait. Miguel was giving himself a harsh slow burn at this rate.
"Well, remember that day when your Spiders got loose...One bit me and I accidently killed it. It was the same day I fainted," You whispered nervously.
"Ah, so that's how it happened,"
"I'm sorry," You gave a small frown. Miguel leaned forward to peck your lips,
"I promised I wouldn't be mad, remember? Instead, you can make it up to me by showing me what you could do. A little show,"
Perhaps he should go into acting? Miguel leaned back in his seat, impressed by his own skills. It was either that or you being too gullible. Your love for him blinded you in many ways that Miguel thoroughly enjoyed.
Watching you give him your own little runway show, Miguel couldn't help but chuckle. Your blood was being used right now to make several of his new injections. He was going to use it on more prisoners or willing test subjects. Which ever was the successful injection...
Miguel will kill them.
Only the two of you were allowed to bear humanity's future. Miguel was not going to risk another person poisoning his plan. Only Miguel could rule, with you as his trophy.
"Okay, this part really freaked me out at first, buuuuuut, I got used to it." You chirped, showing your organic webs.
"Let me see," Miguel motioned you closer.
You as his pet. His trophy. His obedient wife. Honestly, Miguel was lucky that it was you and not some random woman. Just the thought of you crying annoyed Miguel. He would have probably made you super powered in that case as well.
"Fascinating." Miguel hummed, holding your wrist.
"W-Wait...I didn't think it...would be this sensitive," You whimpered, trembling as Miguel stroked your wrist.
"Perhaps you just are," Miguel chuckled, watching you fall apart, "I believe I recall you mentioning better stamina? That isn't what it seemed like when my fingers were inside you."
"H-Hah, M-Miguel...Don't say things like that...out loud," You whimpered. Miguel pulled you closer,
"Hm? Are you getting wet just by me saying it? What a naughty girl,"
"Mhm, Miguel~"
"Show me how sorry you are."
Miguel resisted a chuckle as you whined and got down on your knees. He motioned you under his desk and watched you crawl over before undoing his belt. Ah, how perfect you looked. Your lustful gaze just begging for him.
Miguel inhaled deeply the moment you started to stroke his cock. How nice this felt. Returning to his work, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched the time. Any second now his next meeting should arrive. Oh, how cruel Miguel was.
---------
Was today finally going to be the day? You eagerly got on your knees under his desk and started to please Miguel. He was driving you insane with all this teasing. As you undid his belt, you kept glancing up at Miguel.
Ugh, the eye contact made you melt.
Taking his cock out, you pouted as you started to stroke his shaft. Oh, what you would do to have this inside you. To have Miguel ravish you and make you his. Gosh, you had a dirty and unhealthy mind. This man was straying you from good!
Dazed as you glanced up at Miguel, you swirled your tongue against his cock, hoping for praise. Miguel rested his hand against your head, stroking it as you treated him. Your thumb pressing his tip slightly as you felt him twitch from your tongue.
"Good girl,"
Oh, those words made your panties soaked. Bringing your lips to his tip, you hummed as you twirled your tongue against it. Miguel only grunted in response before he started to type away. This made you frown since you wanted his attention.
Taking his cock in your mouth, you closed your eyes to the bitter taste as you started to suck. As you were getting into the groove, you flinched as you heard the doors open.
"Good morning, sir. I've brought the files you requested."
"Hm, you're late. I should have had these before I walked in." Miguel spat.
You were shaking as you slowly moved your mouth away from Miguel's dick. Why didn't he tell you he had a meeting? Gasping quietly, you felt Miguel's hand press your head back to his cock. Oh, he was mean. Biting your lower lip, you returned to sucking Miguel off.
"Did you get the other thing I requested?" Miguel asked.
"Yes...Sir, not to sound rude, but why couldn't you have gotten (Y/N) to do it?" The man questioned.
You flinched at the mention of your name.
"Are you telling me how to handle my own assistant?" Miguel chuckled darkly, his cock twitching more as you fasten your pace, "(Y/N) is doing something far more important than the task I've given you. Now, I suggest you leave before I get anymore angry."
"...Yes, sir..."
Feeling your eyes water as Miguel's cock hit the back of your throat, you tried to breathe through you nose. You were waiting for the other associate to leave. Hearing the door shut, you whined as Miguel's hand returned your head.
"Now, now. Kept going while I had someone in here, how bold." Miguel teased, moving your head at a faster pace, "I might have to reward you after all."
Ah, those words made you quiver. Wincing as you felt Miguel hold your head down, you moaned as he grunted and cummed in your mouth. You swallowed hard and coughed as you moved your head away from his cock.
"You're....so....mean," You whined.
Miguel just chuckled lowly as he wiped your face. He pulled you onto his lap, adoring how easily you caved for him. How easy it was to turn the city's hero into his little sex doll.
"But, you did hide your secret from me for a while,"
"Miguel~" You cried softly.
Why was he tormenting you like this so much? Grinding yourself against his still exposed cock, you whimpered and begged into his ear. Miguel held your waist, just grunting and groaning to your attempts.
"Now, now. You were just being a good little Spider," Miguel said with a sigh, fixing your skirt, "I'll give you a taste."
You gasped as Miguel placed you on his desk. He lifted your skirt and started to rub his cock against your panties. You knew that Miguel wanted you to wear more skirts, was this the reason? To torment and tease you?
"M-Mig-" You whimpered a moan as he rubbed against your clit.
"Hm? Want my fingers instead?"
"Hah~ N-No~"
---------
Miguel could see the tears in your eyes with every stroke. You were desperate, ready to cum. Miguel was tormenting himself as well. Moving you panties aside, Miguel groaned lowly as he rubbed his cock directly against your dripping cunt.
"H-Hah~ Ah~" You cried out, shaking in pleasure.
Miguel held your legs as he easily moved his hips. The thoughts of getting you pregnant were oh so delicious. Your moans were music to his ears. Just the thought of anyone else being in your shoes angered Miguel.
You were the only one for him.
"M-Miguel~" You moaned, arching your back as his dick hit your clit, causing you to cum.
"Heh, some stamina." Miguel teased once more.
"P-Please, Miguel...P-Please put it inside," You begged.
Miguel had to bite the inside of his cheek. Your pussy was making a wet mess on his desk as it clenched to nothing but air. If Miguel had a condom, he might just give into your advances. Shit, who would have thought that he was now going crazy over you?
"I can't, just behave." Miguel hissed.
Putting you on your stomach, Miguel pressed your legs together and squeezed his dick between them. You gasped and cried out as Miguel slapped his hips against your ass, giving you rough thrusts against your drenched cunt.
He wasn't fucking you, but he was giving you an experience. Miguel held your arms behind your back as he enjoyed the feeling of his dick between your legs.
Soon.
Your moans were filling his office as Miguel kept attacking your clit. Grunting lowly as you cam again, Miguel released your arms to hold your waist.
Soon.
Groaning your name lowly, Miguel took a moment as he cam between your legs. You body still twitching as he moved away, admiring the view.
Soon.
Grabbing some napkins, Miguel proceeded to clean himself up. He then moved onto you, watching you sweat and pant for air. If this was the state you were in now, Miguel couldn't wait to see what would happen when he actually fucked you.
Miguel stroked your cheek, kissing you for a job well done. You were making a mess of him. Once you were clean, you promptly returned to his lap, quietly sitting in place until Miguel requested for your help once more.
--------
Aaron sat in the lunchroom, watching some of the workers acting out. Everyone knew it was the effects of Rapture. It was almost that time of month for those affected associates to get their dosage of Rapture.
"Psst, I've told some of the others. They're willing to give you some of their supply for this month."
"Thanks, that's more than enough to do the job." Aaron whispered back. The other worked scoffed, sitting beside him,
"You're insane for trying this."
"The only way to stop a villain is to give him his just desserts."
"And how will you do it?"
"I'll just have to ask (Y/N) a favor,"
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#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman 2099#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara smut#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#miguel x you#miguel x y/n#miguel x reader
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Hiii 🫶🏼 I hope you're still up for doing an Elijah request! 🤗 I can't get this man out of my head haha
Soo it would be an idea where they met somewhere in Mystic Falls and immediately felt some bond between them, so it happens that they start falling in love (she's human but knows about vampires) but she's too afraid to get hurt so she also tries not to get too close to Elijah. One night he sees some stranger following her home from the Grill and even starts attacking her, Elijah is immediately there saving her and taking her home with him to treat her wounds (mostly some scratches) and he's just super worried. There she realizes that Elijah would never be the one hurting her and they finally share their feelings with a lot of kissing and cuddles afterwards and he holds her, telling how much she means to him.
Oh I hope this is not too weird at all 🙈❤️
Description: Upon meeting Elijah Mikaelson, the feelings start to come but in fear of being hurt, the reader decides to keep her walls up to protect herself. This changes after Elijah protects her after being attacked.
Warnings: fluff, small angst, physical assault (mild), she/her pronouns, maybe swearing?
*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*
Thanks so much for making this request! I can never get sick of Elijah, this man is always on my mind and please feel free to request again if you wish :) I really enjoyed writing this, thank you again :D
Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view
Word Count: 2,125
First Person's POV
Tonight at the Grill was a ‘live acoustics’ night, some of the performers were good and others were quite frankly not that great. Bonnie, Elena and Caroline were off on the next big adventure for the vampiric save-the-day business and while I knew about all the vampires, witches, werewolves and all that extra fun stuff. Besides Matt, I was the only human in the group and somehow I was pushed aside to be kept ‘safe; despite Matt always being dragged into the whirlpool of drama even if he didn’t want to be.
“The music is wonderful for the atmosphere tonight, don’t you agree?” That voice would haunt my dreams, haunt my every thought, I couldn’t fathom how gentle and warm a voice could sound. I glanced to the side, shooting a polite smile to the impeccably dressed man and nodded in agreement.
“I do agree, I feel like I’m in like a cute little romance story, the warm lighting and the music-“ I cut myself short, realising I was babbling to a random stranger who more than likely did not care for my ideas and thoughts.
“I can see how you would see that.” Oh, gosh- those eyes! That smile! This man would haunt me forever, picture perfect and everything I would want in a man. I continued to share a polite smile with the man, fiddling with the straw in my chocolate milkshake and turned myself slightly to face the man a little better.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you…?” Realising that he was waiting for my name, I placed my drink down and took his hand.
“Y/N L/N” He softly cupped my hand, shaking it and proceeded to share his name.
“Elijah Mikaelson.” I wish I could’ve hidden my reaction better, my eyes went wide, and my smile flattened for a moment before I quickly made sure to continue to be nice and polite. Elijah carefully rested my head on the bar, took a small sip of whatever his drink was and gazed at me with a quizzical look.
“You know who I am…” His tone was neither harsh nor hurt, Elijah seemed to have suspected my knowledge of his name and he even seemed curious by the idea of my knowledge.
“I know of your brother Niklaus… Elena told me about you, I think she might have exaggerated a bit. You don’t seem like the antagonist she kinda painted you out to be. From what I’ve heard, you’re the nicer brother… the noble one and I'm sure first glances can be deceiving but… I don’t know- you don’t seem like a bad man.” He briefly licked his lips, eyes shooting up to the ceiling and seemed to be contemplating his next moves.
“I suppose you know-“
“That you’re a…” I leaned closer to whisper so people passing by wouldn’t hear.
“An Original.”
“You don’t seem to be phased.”
“Team doppelgänger has built up my immunity to supernatural beings.” I let out a weak chuckle, cringing internally and turned my focus back on my drink. I wanted to keep speaking with him, I really did want to keep speaking with him but I knew the world that I happened to live in and I didn’t fancy the idea of being bait or hurt as collateral damage.
“It was really nice to meet you Elijah but I have to go.” He nodded, that handsome smile appearing once more, his actions made me gush and brought butterflies into my belly as he grabbed my jacket and assisted in placing it back on.
“I hope that you have a good evening, Y/N”
“Same to you Elijah.” He seemed to have a thought pop into his head, I stopped in my tracks, allowing for him to have the benefit of the doubt and give him the chance to speak his mind.
“May I have the pleasure of seeing you again?”
“Maybe… There’s always tomorrow.” I knew I had given myself away, I could feel my heart skip a beat, I’m sure he could hear it, his facial expression didn’t change but I could feel that he knew what I was feeling.
“Have a good evening,” I whispered, brushing past him to carry on my way.
+++++++
I had seen Elijah a couple of times since our first meeting, we had small conversations and I tried my best to conceal my heart, I didn't want to get close to this man despite enjoying his presence, his voice and the true appearance of his gentlemanly ways made me fall into a daydream greater than any story or dream I could ever have or read.
The next time I saw Elijah was three months after our first meeting, as I said we had multiple different meetings and they were all the greatest moments of my life despite how much I tried to protect my fragile heart. I had left my home for the park, I wanted to read outside of my home and get some fresh air away from the stuffiness of my bedroom. I rested the picnic blanket underneath a large tree, I read three chapters of my book before I felt a presence looming nearby, I placed the book to the side and stood up, surveying the area for a figure and jumped in my skin seeing Elijah approaching me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, may I join you?" I nodded, smiling at the man, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt and sat down with me on the picnic blanket. He gently picked my book up, staring at the cover with intrigue, I observed him with butterflies growing in my stomach, a blush wanting to form on my cheeks as I continued to drown in what was possibly a huge crush for the Original Vampire.
"Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi... I'm not sure I've heard of this one before."
"I doubt you would've, I don't exactly picture you reading a book like this?" He smiled, tilting his head slightly, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth and he handed me back the book.
"Why is that?"
"Well... I don't know, I picture you reading older books nothing from the late 20th century to the early 21st century." Elijah briefly nodded in agreement, I smiled proudly at my guess and fiddled with the tassels hanging off of my bookmark. The vampire took off his suit jacket and began rolling up the sleeves of his button-up, I bit the inside of my cheek, begging myself to remain calm and avoid giving away any kind of emotions being revealed.
"Enlighten me, will you though, please? What's it about?" I cleared my throat, leaning closer to him with joy forming, giddy that he was showing interest in something that I liked and enjoyed.
"It's the third book in the series, I've read it before, and this one is one of my favourites. Essentially the series is all about control some people have these powers and the leaders are trying to control these people. The relationship of the main characters is what I happen to enjoy the most about it, I love how Tahereh created their bond from..."
"Why did you stop?" Elijah gently questioned, his face furrowing in concern, I wanted to cringe but I forced the words out before I could let that show. Taking a deep breath, I turned my gaze back to him, scrunching my face up briefly and proceeded to explain to Elijah what was going through my head.
"Whenever I ramble on to the Salvatores and all that, it's clear that they don't care and I'm not wanting to force that onto you. I'm sorry." Elijah tutted, shaking his head and holding out his hand for me to take. Hesitating for a moment, I finally rested my hand in his, holding my breath for a moment and kept my eyes focused on him as he rested his other hand on top of mine.
"You do that too often, Y/N, I can see you trying to protect your heart and you have a wide range of information waiting to come out and you shut yourself down because you expect everyone else to do that. I hope you find someone... someone who makes you realise you don't need to do that."
"Could possibly end up being you, Elijah," I whispered.
+++++
When someone unknown came into Mystic Falls, it was always a concerning event, the vampires were always the most suspicious of strangers and most of the time they were typically right for not trusting the stranger. It was late when I left the grill tonight, Elijah was growing on my mind more and more, and I would be hit with a wave of memories at random moments.
"Up ahead, there's an alley to your right, walk down it. Try anything-"
"Okay... I understand." I whispered, complying as I walked a little quicker and turned down the alleyway. I cried out as I was instantly shoved against the wall, my head ached and the world spun around me, I bit back a sob as I hit the ground and hissed as the gravel bit into my skin. I kicked off my heels, not fancying a broken ankle and lept to my feet running towards the street but missed as the man tackled me to the ground and which resulted in blood slightly trickling down my forehead and more cuts forming against my skin.
It felt like something out of a vampire movie, I heard a whoosh and then a light thud. Elijah appeared, holding the man against the wall effortlessly with one hand and easily compelled the man to walk off and not commit any sort of crime again. I let out a few sobs as the pain sunk in and the adrenaline started to fade away.
Elijah swooped me into his arms, effortlessly taking me to his mansion and rested me down on his obnoxiously large bed. He crouched down, gently cupping my face in his hands, observing my facial features and swiftly disappeared somewhere before running back.
"Are you okay?" He questioned, focusing on grabbing the things from the first-aid kit to treat my wounds.
"I'm okay..." I whispered, hissing as he wiped an alcohol wipe across the graze on my palm and watched as he apologised profusely for inflicting any added pain onto me. Elijah was so attentive to my needs, he cleaned the blood and dirt away from my cuts and grazes. Covering them with bandaids, doing what he could to assist in caring for me. It was as he was lingering for a moment, observing my form that I realised that Elijah Mikaelson would never hurt me. He would never cause any harm to me, Elijah Mikaelson would protect me and I knew that I wouldn't need to worry any longer.
"You wouldn't hurt me..." I whispered, staring at the vampire as he grasped my face and held eye contact with me.
"Y/N L/N I would never dream of hurting you, you... you're perfect... Y/N you are the epitome of perfect, I haven't met someone as intelligent, kind, sweet, and funny in a long time. Y/N I love you and I hope that you'll allow-" I pushed myself closer to him, carefully cupping his face to kiss the man who had possessed my dreams too often.
"Elijah, please, never let me go, I can't keep guarding myself-"
"Shhh, I've got you." He kissed my forehead, pulling me into his arms and pushing himself to lay against the headboard of his bed. I inhaled, holding onto the warm and mesmerising smell of his cologne, I curled into his chest and hummed gently as he rested another kiss on my forehead.
I felt protected, Elijah was my guardian angel, and he made me feel warm and gooey. Made me giddy and the butterflies a constant swarm in my belly, I fiddled with his hands, staring at the family ring that rested on his finger and glanced to him as he pulled my face to meet his. I hummed as he rested a kiss against my lips, sucking in another deep breath and curling in closer as he strokes my hair, his touch comforting and loving.
"Can I stay here? Just in your arms? Where I'm safe and with you, you Elijah who looks after me and takes the time to listen and know me?" Elijah's smile made the butterflies come to life, my cheeks flushed red and his simple words reassured me for an infinity of time.
"Always and forever."
#the originals#fluff#angst#elijah mikaelson#elijah mikaelson x reader#elijah mikaelson imagine#the mikaelsons#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaelson imagine#klaus mikaelson x y/n#klaus mikaelson#elijah mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson fluff#daniel gillies#joseph morgan#rebekah mikaelson#hayley marshall#marcel gerard#freya mikaelson#kol mikaelson#daniel gilles fluff#elijah mikealson x reader#elijah mikaelson fic#elijah mikaelson x y/n#elijah mikaelson x female reader#niklaus mikaelson#niklaus imagines#niklaus x reader#niklaus mikaelson x reader#niklaus mikaelson fluff
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SHORT FUSE — ELLIE WILLIAMS
ellie takes you to a club and can’t wait til home to fuck you.
wc: 1.2K
a/n: hiiii so this is my first fic!!! i’m super excited, open to any advice, and likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome!!! my asks are always open :)
Ellie is pissed. The kind of pissed that worms its way into every thought, the kind that lasts for hours, the kind that burns and simmers until it boils over, scalding everything in its way. And because the reason was you, dancing away at a club she took you to, in clothes she bought for you (knowing you’d look like this, like a meal that’s got a garnish, all delicious and presentable), she’s even more pissed because she knew this would happen.
She can’t take you anywhere without people fawning over you, a fact that both satisfies some primal urge within her and activates an equally primal violent one. She’s having fun, she scolds herself. You can fuck her stupid in an hour. You can give her an hour.
And Ellie could’ve–would’ve–if you hadn’t stumbled over, all done up with black smudged around your eyes and glossy lips twisted in a pout twenty minutes later asking to dance. She even tried complying, folding before you finished asking as she dragged you back toward the dance floor.
It was a minute in, when you began grinding your ass against the strap hidden beneath her slacks, that Ellie’s restraint finally snapped. Her hands slot themselves onto your hips, gripping with a strength that tells you she could throw you over her shoulder in a heartbeat. You pause your movements; her hands tighten, gripping the fat at your hips like you might try and escape, then loosen without losing their place.
You’re just barely tipsy, more confused when you mumble out “Els, wha–?” Except she doesn’t let you finish, moving her iron grip to your hand, swallowing it in her own as she spins you around to look at her. She looks debauched. Pupils engulfing her irises, lips recently wet and parted with heaving breaths, furrowed brows caging in her eyes as she looks at you. She’s ethereal.
“Y’r a fuckin’ tease,” she grumbles and then doesn’t waste a moment more before leaning down to press her lips against yours. It starts slow, with a special awareness that this is happening in the middle of the dance floor, before quickly devolving until the rest of the world fades and it’s just eachother. She devours you, pulls you apart and explores each section as her tongue fucks itself into your mouth, before she obscenely sucks your tongue into hers. You can’t help but whimper, and that’s when she pulls back, allows the two of you to catch your breath. You pant into her mouth, breaths mingling, and Ellie leans down to press a quick peck to your lips, like she can’t help it. Her hand, giant and imposing, softly cups your cheek and her thumb dances across the soft skin.
“Can’t wait till home,” she mumbles, and you catch it by reading her kiss stricken lips, the words going straight to your cunt. “Bathroom?” she asks, and she’s hopeful, so cute with bitten lips and a shy grin. Who are you to deny her of something you’ve wanted since you got back from class? You nod, and she winks, before turning around and swallowing your hand in her own yet again, leading a path through the crowd to the bathroom.
Entering the bathroom was a blur, only coming into focus once Ellie manhandled you onto the counter, cool granite a harsh contrast to the way her hands encapsulated your plush thighs. She was kneading at the doughy skin, mouth relentless against your lips, and then your neck. You were speechless for a moment, and then you were sure you’d never shut up again, “God Ellie, so good to me,” And you’re tugging at her roots, just scrambling to pull her into you, to get her face up to yours so you can see her, breath with her, love on her.
Ellie doesn’t move, instead tsks, just a condescending “Ah, ah, ah” before turning her attention back towards your neck. “Supposed to be mad at you,” and she huffs a laugh into your neck when you scoff. “‘M serious,” she continues, “You’re out there looking all pretty, and I don’t really care what you do, babe, but they’re looking. Wish I could be the only one, ‘s all.”
“So you’re really not mad at me,” you clarify, continuing to run your fingers through her hair, and Ellie nips at your skin, a playful little notion. After a beat, she finally folds, “No,” keeping her position buried in the crook of your neck before peeking out to make eye contact with a twinkle in them before asking, “Will you still let me fuck you?”
You nod, and then it’s all unbottoning pants and flipping up skirts, messy circles on your clit over your panties with your face buried in Ellie’s neck. You hiccup against her skin, lazily mouthing at it when you quiet down a bit, patiently waiting for your girlfriend to pull out her dick. Ellie shimmies her slacks down her legs a bit before letting the pink glittery dildo escape the confines of her pants. “Y’want my fingers? Need a little more from me?” And only a sob escapes because she’s been working your clit the entire time.
“Need you now,” You whimper, squirming where she has you against the granite, her big hands palming at your tits through your shirt, and you’re ready for her, slick and pliant and open. She rubs your clits a couple more times before bringing one of her hands to the base of her dick, and the other to slide your panties over. The head nudges at your rim, stretching so easily as she pushes in, and your lips are a breath apart, panting into the other’s mouth when Ellie slides home.
You moan unabashadly, head throw back until it thumps against the mirror as Ellie thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. She’s so deep it hurts, so deep it feels like she might grow roots and build a home here. And god, you want her to, and you tell her as much as she fucks into you, just “Oh Els,” and “Right there, fuck,” and “I’m getting—mmph—close, oh”. Ellie can’t help the cocky grin that stays on her face as her hips slam into your own, knowing she’s got you like this and knowing that, for the rest of her life, no one else would.
“Is my girl close?” She asks, face now right by your ear, “Y’gonna cum? Is my sweet girl gonna cum?” You nod, furiously, letting out a shout of pleasure when her hand sneaks down towards your clit and rubs. It all lasts a moment more before pleasure consumes you, vision going white as the wave crashes. She holds you, carrying you through it with deep, slow thrusts, a milky white ring around the pretty pink base.
Ellie’s hand circles your back, pulling you toward her before seeming to remember that she’s buried inside you, and so she backs up so she can pull out. She slips out of you, and you briefly whine at her absence until she returns, with some damp paper towel. She cleans you up, and kisses your forehead before resituating your underwear and skirt, then her own slacks.
Ellie is content. The kind of content that worms its way into every thought, the kind that lasts for hours, the kind that floats and glimmers until it’s barely containable. And because the reason was you, sitting before her on the counter she just fucked you on, she’s even more content because she had a feeling this would happen.
#first fic!!!#:3#tlou2#the last of us 2#ellie williams#ellie williams au#modern!au#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams smut#el <3#ellie tlou2#ellie x reader#ellie x you#em writes
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