#EXCEPT you kit you are GOING to do this. kisse.

[lionsenpai]

tag game, in this the year of our lord 2015

tagged by @bewildereye!!! that rascal!!!!

Last song: cheating and putting my current favorite but all of you are too endeared and appreciative of my tastes that you don't mind :) dark science - coyote kid

Favourite colour: purple

Currently watching: haven't started it yet, but the fall of the house of usher is NEXT

Last movie/tv show: wheel of time!! just finished season 2 with a friend and we screamed like the whole last episode... ive had such an amazing time with it even if the resulting knowledge has made dragon age: origins even more of a shitshow lmao. they really just ripped off all of that huh.

Spicy/savoury/sweet: savory please please please

Relationship status: i recently selected Committed Relationship in an official survey, and yea, i guess that's what it means when you immigrate for someone

Current obsession: the long dark. its an old obsession but it has me in its GRIPS now that ive realized there's Story Elements in signal void lmao. DARKWALKER REAL????? girls whos out there freezing

Last thing you googled: recently my gf and i have gotten back into a dragon raising website that i haven't played since 2009!! and so Obviously i've been all over the wiki trying to catch up on the new dragons, actions, and marketplace. recently i discovered killing an egg to get it off my scroll faster and not have to wait the mandatory 5 hours to abandon it is NOT a more efficient way of freeing up space for new dragons, so i've got blood on my hands for nothing, basically. (being really normal and collecting one of every sprite instead of just playing the game over here, please look at my scroll)

Tagging: @voidkatten, @fawks, @logosminuspity, @araneaserket, @glyndaliker, @imrryr and that's all for now!

[webslingingslasher]

Begin Again

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

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

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

Word Count: 24K

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

Breakups suck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you have a lighter?” 

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

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

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

A supercut of every moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort, “for breaking my heart?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Six weeks, starting today.” 

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

“Six weeks.” 

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

WEEK ONE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleepy?” 

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

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

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

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

“Do me a favor?” 

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

“Make sure he gets home for me.” 

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

The birds were screaming the earth back awake. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I think… I think I’m doing okay.” 

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

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

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

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

“Noon thirty.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever-” 

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

“Who’s-” 

“Did you-” 

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

“What do you want, penis?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that Peter B. Parker?” 

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

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

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

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

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

She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever. 

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

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

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

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

Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good. 

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

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

Deny till death. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natalie Greene knows three things to be true. 

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

“What if you talked to him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK TWO.

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

“How are you doing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was it. 

This was your worst nightmare. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I, um, I still have those cookies?” 

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

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

Tonight, you were full of surprises. 

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

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

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

You do a double take, five months? 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Harder,” you test it. 

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

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

“Harder, don’t be so weak!”

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

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

“Fucking!” 

“Piece!”

“Of!”

“Shit!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re looking at me funny.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you find yourself agreeing. 

“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK THREE.

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

“Let’s fuck some shit up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered. 

“Hi, May. Is Peter home?” 

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t think you could ever love again. 

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

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

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

Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock. 

“I’m sure.” Because, you really are. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would send you things he found funny. 

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

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

‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’ 

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

“Have fun on the trip!” 

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

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

“Hi.” 

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

“Okay, okay, so what did she say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a good thing?” 

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

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

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

“And very nice curls.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are you doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, wow!” 

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

Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!  

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

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

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

Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-

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

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

“Are you gonna hide from me forever?” 

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

He’s perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk. 

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

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

“Butter, please?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? I thought after-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scars don’t.” 

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

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

“They do.” 

WEEK FOUR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re in denial.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

How long has he liked you? 

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

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

“But was it worth it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t is a funny word choice.” 

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

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

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

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

“Break up with me.” 

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

A laugh, “then break up with me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you see where I’m sitting?” 

Peter nods, “I do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has a very fair point. 

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

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

“How do you know I don’t want this?” 

“Because this isn’t you.” 

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

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

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

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

“You mean when you had a boyfriend?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would it feel like an agonizing death? 

Would your wings ever be patchable again? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Peter’s fault. 

“Because you made me want to.” 

WEEK FIVE. 

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

“Good morning.” 

You nod your head, “penis.” 

And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed. 

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

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

3:02, you hear his window. 

3:04, your eyes finally get heavy. 

3:07, you’re dozing off. 

3:10, you’re asleep. 

It wasn’t fair. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peter.” You need his focus on you.

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

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

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

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

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

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

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

“You passed out on me last night.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfect, coming right up.” 

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

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?” 

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

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

“Guess we’re twinsies now.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” 

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

“Sure. Go shopping for me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK SIX.

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

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

You think you broke him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, when she puts it like that… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he stumbled up the steps. 

When he hit his head with his locker.

When he stepped on his glasses. 

When he was tackled in flag football. 

When he tripped over his shoelace. 

When he got glue in his hair. 

When he winced while dissecting a frog. 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s worth it. 

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

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

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

Step two: See above. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this an asshole move? Yes. 

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

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

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

You hear something drop inside his apartment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?” 

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

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

“Did you just call me a normy?” 

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

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

But it’s all in the timing. 

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

“Miserable? What, about the breakup?” 

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

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

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

You’re in love with Peter and only Peter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still like me?” 

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

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

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

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

“Can you call me sweetheart?” 

“Is that the one you like?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

It’s so much sweeter than you imagined. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said I was never properly loved.” 

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

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

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

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

“If you’d be my boyfriend.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies. 

Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies. 

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

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

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

“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.” 

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

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

“I don’t hate you anymore.” 

“Spoiler alert, you never did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

And you watched love begin again. 

“Anything for you, girlfriend.” 

----

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

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

[folkling]

Windbrook Save 2.0 (In collaboration with @cowboycid and @bobnewbie)- Feat. a family by @oshinsimss

DISCLAIMER: While this is a CC free save file, it is pack and kit heavy. To give more context, this save utilizes ALL EPs, GPs, and SPs (except My First Pets) as well as ALL KITS (except Bust The Dust and Poolside Splash) While you may not own every pack or kit that I used, the save file is still playable. Everything missing will be substituted.

What's new in 2.0

Willow Creek has new homes, rentals, and one new retail lot

Newcrest has been built (restaurant, gym, retail, and generic lots)

Magnolia Promenade has been built, while somewhat finished, still needs work

Every lot that's finished (including commercial) and families have descriptions, stories, jobs, etcetera

New townies from @simsontherope and @cowplant-snacks

Families from @bobnewbie

A special family, The Westfalls made exclusively by @oshinsimss

Special collaboration with @cowboycid

Other worlds are still empty, I do plan on building new worlds

SCREENSHOTS AND MORE INFO BELOW

SPECIAL THANKS

First and foremost I want to thank my good good friend @cowboycid for collaborating with me on this project. I'm so happy we met when we did because I was starting to lose light. You inspired me to keep going, and for that I appreciate you DOWN. You're a real one sis, no tea. Hugs and kisses for ever. I also want to thank @bobnewbie for coming through with families. You don't understand just how life saving they were. I didn't get a chance to use all of them, and my original concept for the save fell through due to time constraints, but I'm thankful to have had access to the diverse array of families you made for the save. A huge thank you to @oshinsimss for taking the time to create a beautiful family, The Westfalls, exclusively for Windbrook 2.0, I love them so much. Also a big thank you to @cowplant-snacks and @simsontherope for their townies. Without them, the townies would just be... ugh, you know. So, thank you for having them available on the gallery. I also want to thank @anthonydaydreamer for just showing up for me through this whole process. Like, you just get it boo! Hugs and kisses! Finally a quick apology to those I intended on sending preview copies of the save. Time was not on my side near the end, things took more time than I thought. Honestly, I needed to get this project off my computer ASAP. I really hope you guys understand. Big hugs and kisses. Thank you everyone for all the kind words and support over these past few months, your words kept me going, even if I didn't feel I had anymore left to give. This save is a love letter to you all, the simblr community.

Thank you, honestly, truly.

*terrain replacement in screenshots by K-hippie, you don’t need it, it’s just for screenshots + updated download link to include The Westfalls made by @oshinsimss for Windbrook 2.0 - please find more info here*

*updated download as of 10/11/23*

Download (SIMFILESHARE)

TOU: Don't upload any part of this save to any platform without explicit permission, thank you.

[p0orbaby]

Alexia - comes home after training to find R napping on the couch and wakes her up with soft kisses before she gets mushy and just joins her for a cuddle and nap

-

Alexia comes home from training, sweaty, hair damp, smelling vaguely of grass and ambition, the way she always does. The door creaks—because you’ve been asking her to fix it for weeks now��and she steps inside, shoes hitting the floor in that unmistakable clomp-clomp pattern of someone who is both a professional athlete and annoyingly careless about wooden floors. The ceiling light flickers like something out of a low-budget horror film.

You, on the other hand, are lying on the sofa in a way that can only be described as “dead to the world.” There’s an empty bowl of crisps on the floor—Sour Cream & Onion, the kind you swore you weren’t going to buy again because they’re “basically poison”—and the remote’s half-buried under the cushion. You've somehow managed to twist yourself into a position where you're both starfishing and curling into a ball, legs over the armrest like you fell asleep mid-TikTok scroll. There's a blanket draped over you, but it's doing more to cover the coffee table than your body.

Alexia looks at you and smiles, the kind of smile she saves for moments like this—when she thinks you’re too asleep to notice. She drops her kit bag on the floor, a bit too loudly. You don’t stir.

“Bebé,” she says softly, approaching you with the grace of a ninja, except if that ninja was someone who just did 90 minutes of intense cardio. She crouches beside the sofa, her face hovering millimetres from yours, inspecting you like you’re an artefact in a museum. She’s got this weird habit of doing that when she thinks you're asleep, just staring at you like she’s trying to figure out if you’ve suddenly sprouted a third eye.

You, blissfully unaware, snore. Loudly.

Alexia sighs. “How are you even comfortable like that? You look like a yoga pose gone wrong”

You don’t move. Well, you twitch a bit, probably a dream, but otherwise nothing. She rolls her eyes, leaning in closer, and starts peppering soft kisses along your forehead, one after the other, like she’s trying to wake Sleeping Beauty with sheer persistence.

“Mmm,” you murmur, shifting slightly, as though your body is considering waking up but then quickly decides against it. Alexia huffs a little, more amused than anything, and climbs onto the sofa beside you. Well, as much as she can. There’s not exactly room for two people, but she wedges herself into the narrow gap you’ve left, one leg hanging off the edge in a way that’s not remotely comfortable but feels like home. Her arm snakes around your waist as she buries her face into your neck.

You stir again, groggily. “Wha—” you manage, eyes still half-closed, one leg twitching involuntarily as if your body can’t decide if it’s awake or not.

“Shh,” she whispers into your ear, voice low and soft. “Go back to sleep”

You crack an eye open and glance over your shoulder at her, eyebrow raised. “You smell like a gym sock”

“Romantic,” she deadpans, but there’s a smirk tugging at her lips.

You mumble something unintelligible and sink back into her embrace, already half-asleep again. Alexia shifts, trying to find a comfortable position—impossible, considering you’ve taken up 90% of the sofa. Still, she presses her face against your hair, her breath slow and steady, and before long, she’s drifting off too.

The remote control digs into her thigh, but she’s too tired to care.

[bonesandchalamet]

one room, one us - k.connor

masterlist

requested: y- “I almost immediately want to put forward the “only one hotel room left and it’s only got one bed” trope for a Kit Connor request 🫢 friends to lovers of course 🫡”

pairing: kit connor x reader — please message me if I used any pronouns of she/her this is supposed to be gender neutral!

warnings: one room trope + mentions of making out (purely innocent kissing)

a/n: loved this request hope I did it justice xx

“I could’ve sworn it had two beds.” he stammers over his words, a light nervous chuckle falls off his lips. as you turn to face him, you see he’s as red as a lobster, embarrassed for his mistake on the booking error, “I swear. y/n, im sorry.”

“kit,” you warn him giving a pointed look that he knows too well. he shouldn’t be apologizing considering you’re long time friends, but he is. sharing a bed was like crossing a line in his book, and he wasn’t quite sure your friendship was at that level of mattress sharing and blanket tugging.

“don’t apologize, I’m sure I can find another room—“

“you can’t. the place is sold out, and I’d offer my bed, but I promised tobbie he could share with me.” joe peaks his head in from the conjoining room, tobbie’s head appears atop of his with a simple frown for your sorrows, but truth be told, you couldn’t be too mad about sharing a bed with kit. he’s a dear friend for Christ sakes not a stranger with a filthy disease.

“honestly, it’s okay. we can make due right? just build a wall of pillows! it’ll be all good.” you offer your best smile to three boys who nod in agreement with your words. it’ll all be fine. except will it? you’ve never passed sharing a blanket or a bag of chips on the sofa, this could really change things— or maybe you’re just classically overthinking that this could ruin or change the course of your friendship.

—

“so I like to sleep on that side.” kit nudges his head to the right. the side that’s closest to the clock and the charging outlets, it’s also currently the place you’re snuggled under the sheets in.

“well I got here first.” you poke at your tongue, but gladly move along per his request and allow your phone to stay on the nightstand leaving you two with nothing but a conversation.

“even joe knows I like this side.”

“well excuse me for missing this course in friendship, but you’ve never told me you’ve had a preference to sides.” you pull the comforter up close to your chin and settle in against the mattress once again, finding comfort after a long day.

travel and tourism of a new place had taken it out on you, kit, joe and tobbie so much so that your evening plans of late dinner and drinks had turned into laying in bed to order room service. exhaustion was just only an understatement of what you felt.

“you tired?” he whispers, the words hang in the air almost he didn’t say them. it takes you a whole minute to register he’s waiting for a response, and by the time you open one eye, he’s found himself cuddled up with one of the pillows that’s being used as a barrier.

“hey,” you flip over onto your side, his thick light blond eyelashes flicker up, his beautiful eyes staring into yours. you can feel your heart stop, your breath goes right in your throat as you try to remember the words you were going to say.

“do you think you can turn off the lights?” he mutters mimicking your position as well, comforter pulled up to under his chin with pleading puppy dog eyes, “I can’t reach it.”

you let out a breathy chuckle watching his eyes close again, “it’s on your preferred side.” you say poking his side earning a grimace from him.

he juts out his lower lip, opening his eyes again, he gives you his best sad puppy dog look that’s so convincing you reach over his body and flip off the light, “there you go your highness.”

“hey!” he gasps, sitting upright. you can’t see his eyes, but you’re sure they are about a centimeter away from popping out of their sockets. you can only make out so much of him, but what you do notice is he’s completely shirtless. an image your brain clearly must’ve ignored in the first place, but now can’t seem to erase it.

“I’m nothing but high maintenance.”

an innocent unconscious laughter escapes your lips as you can recall the times when kit might of been a bit more on the needier side of things, but you cover your lips with an invisible zipper making his playful anger grow.

“no! tell me this instant!” he gently presses a slight shove against your arms and discards one of the pillows used as a barrier. he moves closer to you resting his head against your shoulder, “if you don’t tell me I’ll just fall asleep right here.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, saliva fills your throat as you become to realize what you’ve just put in the air for him to settle with. maybe it was stupid, maybe it was wrong, but your feelings for kit were nothing but pure and right.

you could always feel his attraction towards you, and tonight, with only one bed and one hotel room left, it felt like someone was pulling you two together. someone or something was trying to push you two off the edge and into something more.

“what if I did this,” he sits up, index finger gently grazes your chin as he pulls your face towards him. time feels slow in this moment, his face inching closer your heart begging to jump out of your throat, its not until his lips are on yours when time seems to finally catch up.

his lips were like heaven. soft enough to melt you into his arms, and warm enough to send a heat wave through your body as you slide your tongue into his mouth.

he pulls away, a small gasp exiting his lips catching his breath, “so you don’t mind that?” he asks, a growing concern reaches his face that you can’t see, but your lips on his sends him the right message.

“look who’s high maintenance now,” he says in between kisses, a chuckle escapes his lips as you grab a fist full of his hair and pull his lips back onto yours.

“I’m only high maintenance with and for you, connor. it took you too long to kiss me.”

he throws his head back laughing as he collapses against the mattress, “just kiss me again, y/n.”

[beefcakekinard]

BuckTommy intimacy prompts #29 (kisses when they're mad) or #50 (patching up a wound).

Whichever one speaks to you, or a combination of both. Thank you! :)

29. kisses when they're mad +

50. patching up a wound

Buck shifts, restless and uncomfortable, in one of Tommy's kitchen chairs. His left hand rests palm-up on top of a sheet of paper towel on the table while Tommy uses a small pair of sterile tweezers to pick tiny shards of glass from the cuts littering his skin. Tommy's focus is singular, his brow furrowed as he works - normally, this would get Buck all kinds of hot and bothered, but the scratches on his hand itch and the topic of conversation is less than inspiring in that department.

"I'm not mad," Tommy says stiffly. He sounds like Maddie used to whenever Buck had done something particularly bone-headed when they were growing up. Buck has enough self-preservation instinct to bite back a joke about her giving Tommy lessons.

"What, you're just disappointed?" Buck goads. Tommy gives him a sharp look. So much for self-preservation.

"I'm not mad," Tommy repeats, adding, "I'm upset, because my boyfriend seems to have decided for me how I'm going to feel about meeting his parents, and when he didn't like the reaction he picked out for me, he decided to keep me in the dark about them coming to visit."

Buck bristles, straightening his back a little; even though he doesn't want to get back to the tense arguing he'd interrupted by crushing a wine glass in his hand, he doesn't like the way Tommy is characterizing the whole situation.

"That's not fair," he says. Tommy snorts in response and keeps picking glass out of his hand.

"No, it isn't."

"That's not what I meant." Buck tries to pull his hand back; Tommy's hand on his wrist keeps it pinned where it is. "I meant you're not being fair to me."

Tommy gives him another unimpressed look and Buck has to fight the urge to cringe, because yeah, that didn't come out the way he wanted. "I meant," he presses, "you're giving me this, this motive that you've pulled out of- from nowhere, instead of letting me explain."

"So explain," Tommy says, gaze fixed on Buck's palm as he works.

Buck sighs. "You know I don't have the, uh, best relationship with my parents." Tommy nods, so he continues, "And we- we're trying to fix that. But it's something I can kind of, get in my own head about." Buck starts bouncing his leg - he looks away from Tommy, to the calendar he has up on the wall. "I've never introduced them to someone I've dated."

Tommy makes an acknowledging hum and digs deep into one of the cuts on Buck's hand. Buck flinches, his whole body twitching away except for the hand in question, itself still held tight to the table with the warm weight of Tommy's hand on his wrist.

"I thought-" Buck starts, then stops. He feels like he's picking the words out of the air as he says them, and he wants - needs - to get this right. "I want you to meet them," is what he settles on, turning his gaze back to Tommy, wishing he'd look up. He does.

"Technically, I've already met them," Tommy says. "At Maddie and Howie's wedding."

Buck nods without breaking eye contact. "Yeah, yeah, kind of, but that was- that ended up being less formal than I wanted, you know?"

Tommy nods his head back and forth, like he's ceding the point. He sets down the tweezers and grabs an antibacterial wipe from the first aid kit beside him.

"So- so I do, I still want you to meet them," Buck says. He scrunches his face when Tommy gently runs the wipe over his cuts - it stings. "I just... I don't want them to make you uncomfortable."

"Baby, you know I'm a grown man," Tommy says without looking up from his work. He grabs some ointment and starts to spread it carefully over the worst of the cuts. "I can handle people being rude."

Buck nods. "No, I, I know, I do, just..." He sighs again and watches Tommy fix a bandage to the worst of the cuts, a gash in the meat of his palm. When he's done, he releases his hold on Buck's wrist and slips both his hands around Buck's, cradling it without touching his injuries. It kind of makes Buck's eyes burn.

"Is that really why you didn't tell me? Because of how you think your parents will behave?" Tommy asks. Buck pauses, then shakes his head. He doesn't look up, keeps his eyes focused on Tommy's thumb, rubbing circles into Buck's pinky.

"I..." Buck clears his throat. "I was also maybe worried about how I'd behave, around them." He looks up into Tommy's eyes. "Historically, I, uh, I'm not really my best self when they're around."

"I get that," Tommy says, and squeezes Buck's hand tighter between his own. "But believe it or not, I'm not going to run for the hills because you have a hard time with your parents. In fact-" he pauses, leans in a little, and all Buck sees is the blue blue blue of his eyes - "in fact, that's kind of something I'd really like to be by your side for."

Buck can't help himself - he cups Tommy's jaw with his free hand and pulls him forward into a kiss they both sigh their way into. Something inside his chest settles, glowing warm like embers. He pulls back, just far enough to rest their foreheads together, and savours the rasp of Tommy's stubble under his thumb.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. Tommy kisses him again, briefly, lightly.

"I forgive you," Tommy whispers back, and presses into another quick kiss. "And I'm sorry, too. I should have talked to you, instead of getting upset."

Buck smiles. "You're forgiven," he whispers into Tommy's lips. In a minute, they'll get up, clean the first aid detritus from the table and the shards of glass from Tommy's kitchen floor. But for now, before their backs start aching for how they're leaning, they've got this, each other, a whole world created in the bubble between them every time their lips touch. And in this moment, that's all Buck really wants.

[circeyoru]

You Think It’s That Easy? = Requested

[Yandere Human!Alastor x Arranged Marriage!Reader]

The Request (1) + (2)

Part 2 is out, please check Masterlist for the link

I supposed that it would be heavily implied that Reader here is female, cause I can’t imagine Alastor’s time letting male and male into a marriage. Sorry to my male readers!

A friendship between families is not something to be happy about. At least, to the children of the two families it isn’t

“Darling, meet Alastor, for now you two aren’t of age yet, but in time, you two will be married.”

That line was what chained you down to another without room for rejection or say. Luckily, Alastor himself wasn’t keen on the idea as well, so whenever you two were out of your parents’ sights, you two were off to do as you please

Your parents ran a successful shipping company, leading them to be absent throughout your childhood. They sent you to live with their friend, Alastor’s parents, later the idea of marrying you two was formed. Alastor’s father ran a factory, producing metal and machinary, so he was well off. There wasn’t a thing out of place, except maybe the greedy he has to money

With the lack of parents, you had to rely on yourself and you had plenty of private lessons to prepare yourself before going to going to school. You saw Alastor’s father as a sinful man that leeched off of your parents’ fame. The idea of marriage was mainly from him as well, since he wanted more compensation on top of what was given to him while taking care of you

Alastor was more of a mama’s boy, as you took notice. Very obedient to her, yet when it came to his father, he was much like a doll. You also saw his father as abusive, though he played the kind and sweet father figure when you were around, when you were out of sight, his switch is flipped. You leaned to Alastor’s wounds when you caught him reaching for a med-kit in the dead of night

The two of you made your peace with the arranged marriage after sometime spending at school. You two also thought of just going through with it since either of you found ‘love’, nor did you two want to disappoint your parents

A glorious wedding day supposed to be the best day of one’s life was a dull ceremony for you and merely a formality for Alastor. Vows spoken with the intent to break, rings exchanged as mere jellewery, and a kiss shared just as a performance on stage. Somehow, the smiles on your respective parents’ face was worth the trouble

You two moved out and lived in a mansion that was affordable. You two slept in separate rooms, nearly nothing was shared. The situation was much like a roommate. Nothing between you two suggested that there was the concept of ‘love’

Though an odd friendship of mutual acceptance and private support was formed. While you both had your fair share of friends and connections, you knew you could always rely on the other for anything because you’ve known the other your whole life and seen the ugly side of the other and accepted it

Like when Alastor’s father was accidentally killed in a factor fire and his mother passed away from an incurable disease not long after. Or your parents that died from a shipwreck while out at sea during a vacation you refused to go. During these traumatic times, while people around you two tried to claw at you, the other would protect and be a source of comfort

That’s why you two agreed to have the marriage stay in tact. It will be broken off when either one finds a partner that was ‘true love’

And that time came faster than imagined. You found that love you wanted, you didn’t tell anyone, opting to keep it a secret. You had a face to put on, so does your love. You knew Alastor would understand, in fact, he’d be ecsatic for you. Since this meant he would be free of this playing house game. You honestly figured Alastor had a lover of his own as well, since he returns home so late and would immediately head to the showers to clean before falling asleep

Everything planned for your leave, you didn’t inform Alastor and thought it was fine for you to just leave with your love. You did and none was the wiser. As a form of curtsy and thanks, you left Alastor a great sum of money, a letter of farewell, your wedding ring and signed marriage divorce papers. If he wanted, maybe you two could do on a double date?

While you were happy and dandy with the arrangement, Alastor found himself unable to go through with it when that time come. His hands crunched up the letter and he shoved away all that money. You see, he never expected it, but he fell for you in a way it wouldn’t be considered normal. You were someone he just want to let go

Starting that factory fire was easy, call it a trial. He hates his father, yes, but he also wanted to see if you’d break off the marriage since his father was the one to suggest the idea. But you didn’t and offered him a shoulder to ‘cry’ on, he realized then, that he prefered your presence other than his mother’s

“Alastor, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, My Dear. Accidents happen all the time.”

“No, it’s not!” You suddenly hugged him out of nowhere, you knew perfectly well of his aversion to touch, yet you hugged him tight and provided your shoulder, “Don’t hold it in, Alastor. It’s not good for you. I’ll be right here for you.”

Slowly, Alastor returned the hug. His arms wrapped tightly against you, he let his face bury between your neck and shoulder and forced tears out. When he felt your hands patting the back of his head and soothing his back, a sickly grin formed. He likes this.

He realized his love for you when you mentioned some unsatisfactory suitors that approached you even when your wedding day was near. He killed a few and faked some accidents there. Then he had that was your parents that wanted to stop the wedding since his father was dead and you didn’t appear interested in him

So he found some people with a grudge against your family and planned an accident during their vacation. He appeared as your knight in shinning armour when those some people targetted you. He catched them away, but he just had to off them for attempting to harm you. There, after everything blew off, he offered his hand in this staged marriage as a form of support to you. You needed a husband to rely on, even though you have the money, a lady such as yourself can’t last long alone

The moment you accepted, he got to work. Rooms changed to a shared bedroom, you two would appear as a couple in cafes to enjoy meals and breaks. Everything to make it seem like you two were truly a couple instead of what happened before

Alas, his time with you was very limited. With his popular radio shows and nighty activities, he couldn’t keep up with you. But in his eyes you didn’t change much, so he continued. He noticed you were happier, but when you didn’t tell him anything, he didn’t know what was happening. He assumed you had a successful deal made or the like

“Darling! Dear! I’m home!”

But all that returned his greeting was the empty silence of the mansion.

To think you found your love without telling him. He was careful to eliminate any potential lovers of yours. How did he miss this one?! He’ll admit he was busier than usual, but he had been keeping an eye on you. What went wrong?

As dramatic as it sounded, he felt like his life was sucked out of him when he saw the papers on the table. The flowers he brought, which were your favourite, and the ingredients he brought to make your favourite meal were long discarded on the floor. He left work early to celebrate your anniversary with you and you left?

He scrambled up his and your shared bedroom, your personal belongings and stuffs were all gone. He went to his study, your files, documents, and books were all gone. He went to the kitchen, your favourite kitchenwares were gone too. His knees gave out beneath him, you truly left. You left him

“I wish you a happy life with your lover, Alastor! Don’t mistreat her! And it’s not proper to stay out too late into the night, Alastor~” Those inferno words that taunted him. He could practically hear your voice teasing him from the letter. Did you think he had a lover too? How could he when he loves (is obsessed with) you?

Blasphemy! 

The next day, ladies were eager to comfort him and console him. The news of his divorce and that he was a free man was all over town, no doubt something you did to ensure that he and his supposed ‘love’ can be together in public. He was in no mood to entertain them

Alastor buried himself in his work, radio broadcasting and killing. As much as he wanted to hunt you down and kill whoever stole your heart from under his nose, he can’t. The two of you were famous in your own rights and it would cause quite the scandal that both of you might not recover

So he took out his witchcraft book. Binding souls request both souls’ blood and hair, he had collected yours beforehand. A sacrifice, the body in front of him will do well, it was the some person that tried to copy you and earn his love

He’ll see you in Hell and when he does, Alastor will not let you go

Note: Another story that's not {Unwanted Soul}! I'll probably continue that one when all the votes are in. At least, the new plotline will be like that.

Since this request was a long time ago, I went and made it longer than others. Hope you like this one in the meantime!

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

@mistpurpl3

[servicpop]

CURRENTLY VIEWING : slightly obsessive deliquent oc x good student male!reader

「ㅤSFWㅤ」ㅤbandaging up your (almost) bf adrien after a bad fight!

✙ warnings — mention of violence / blood / slight homophobia / slight suggestions of stalking or obsession

notes ,, first actual writing post... hope you guys like it "

Adrien and you lived two worlds. You were a model student, perfect in every way, whereas Adrien was nothing but a deliquent who skipped all his classes and failed all of his subjects (except for sports). If you two were so different, how did you end up together?

It started with an exchange of glances when you both started your first year of being a senior, somehow your presence was never known by Adrien until that one glance turned into never ending eye-contact, briefly smiling at eachother as you two met eyes from across the courtyard. His heart felt like it was about to crumble whenever you smiled at him. Your lips, your perfectly imperfect teeth shining at him. He had definitely fallen for you.

But how would his friends feel if they knew he was crushing on another guy?

As much as he wanted to hide it he couldn't. Everytime he went home and sat down in his chair, he would be welcomed with your face in the form of printed pictures stored in his top drawer. He knew it was wrong but he couldn't help it, you were so attractive you reeled him in like a fish. But somehow. Somehow. You and him talked more and more, exchanged numbers, hung out a few times and even brushed hands once! Adrien for sure didn't wash his hand after that. You weren't confirmed to be dating but it sure seemed like it.

And that was the start of Adrien's fall for you.

It was around 5:00pm, the sun still shining brightly but casted a slight orange hue into the empty council room, indicating that sunset would near. You were currently in said room, sorting the books, cleaning the tables, finishing off the work your teachers assigned you because you were such a good student. Yeah it was nice for them to rely on you but to be honest, all you wanted to do was go home but alas you couldn't.

Almost as if the universe pitied your unbearable boredom, the door to the council room clicked opened. At first you thought it was a teacher, but turning around you met the deep eyes of Adrien. His soulless eyes bore into yours, his knuckles dripping with blood as he stumbled into the room, almost collapsing on the couch.

"Got into another fight," He grumbled, his deep sultry voice reverberated in the room. Shit, his voice was hot. Snapping out of your thoughts, you quickly rushed over to him, viewing his bloody and bruised knuckles. It looked bad. Probably from beating the shit out of someone but you wouldn't question it. After some rummaging around you finally found the first aid kit, clicking the white box open before kneeling down infront of Adrien, a small smirk plastered his face.

"You don't have to you know? I just wanted—" Adrien's voice was cut out by a sharp hiss as you applied the alcohol to his wounds.

"Let me be a good friend to you."

Ooh... friend? That hit Adrien straight to the gut

"I just wanted company."

"Then your not allowed to hold my hand with those bloody knuckles."

"..."

"please bandage my fingers."

A wholehearted chuckle left your throat as you fished out the puppy patterned bandages around his knuckles, making sure you kissed each and every knuckles after. Just to make sure that there was no lingering pain of course, not because you two were had something for eachother or anything. You looked up at Adrien to see a small smile on his face, he was always so serious looking and whenever he smiled it was usually the shit eating grin type of smile. You had only really grown closer with him for a few weeks now so... why were you already hooked on him?

"You lost in thought?" He asked, snapping you out of your little trance. You shook your head, and he brought your chin up to meet his in a light kiss, his calloused fingertips gripping your chin lightly while his other hand found solace in your own. It was something straight out of a romance movie, his warm fingers against yours, his lips against your soft ones in such a gentle kiss. You never knew deliquents could be this gentle. Pulling away you wiped your lips and tugged your hands from Adrien's. You weren't dating him. You can't do this. You turned your head a pout adorned your lips, "Don't just casually kiss me," you huffed.

"But I know you liked it." Adrien hummed.

extra notes ,, I didn't have a full goal for what relationship reader and Adrien would have but i really liked the enemies to lovers sort of denial trope. I also experimented with the colour coding of the text, I find it easier to identify when they're speaking but let me know your preferences! I'm a bit nervous posting this since its my first time ever posting on tumblr but yeah! Also no smut yet, still getting warmed up you know

[repulsiveliquidation]

Crippled.

María León x Ingrid Engen x Reader [SMUT!]

the cutest duo am i right

word count : 2.6k

warnings : fluffy smut, bon appetit.

“Ready, mi amor?”

“Si, just let me get my bag.”

Mapi stood at the door with her kitbag, grabbing her keys when you walked up to her with your medical bag. You had just been announced as the head of the medical team for Barcelona Femeni and it was your first day. Your girlfriends recommended you to the board when you were helping Alexia with her ACL; the board decided to use your expertise on the team upon her recommendation and you got the job, moving on from your private practice.

You were a little nervous about the position; the team was made up of elite athletes that relied on you to keep them healthy and injury-free to be able to do their jobs the best they can. You had met them all, but since you’ve never cared for them except for Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid so you were scared that you would mess up and cost the team.

“I’m ready.” You tell her, smiling up at your girlfriend.

“The barça crest looks good on you.” She tells you proudly, holding the door open for you as you walked to her car.

“Please, you’ve seen it on me hundreds of times.”

“It’s one thing to see you in my jersey or Ingrid’s amor, never fails to make my heart go crazy.”

“I love you,” you tell her, blushing lightly when she opens your door for you; Ingrid already sitting inside.

“I love you too,” She whispers quietly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

//

You walk to training together, they follow you into the medical room to introduce you to everyone and to get you settled. Ingrid kisses your head and Mapi kisses you before leaving, heading to training while you work up a health plan for each and every one of the players.

You come out to the pitch a while later to introduce yourself to the team which isn’t necessary since the girls are over at your house at least once a week anyway and you knew all of them well. They come over to say hello at a water break, Alexia gives you a hug when Mapi comes up from behind and hugs you as you talk to Irene, Patri and Ingrid.

“Go back to practice, clingy.”

“I wanna hang out with you.”

“We live in the same house, you will live without me for a bit. Go.”

“Asshole.”

“That is so sweet of you, love.”

She lets go and kisses your cheek before running back on the pitch with Ingrid following her. You speak with Jonatan for a bit to discuss how he wished to have the medical team at games and such. You go back inside after, waving to the girls.

Ingrid and Mapi find you in your office after training, freshly showered and ready to go home. You make them sit and wait a bit, finalizing a little work before shaking Mapi awake to go home. You drive, the two girls too tired as they both fall asleep on the way.

Mapi crashes on the couch snoring while Ingrid forces herself upstairs, you chuckle and clean out their kit bags and do a load of laundry before starting on dinner. Mapi wakes up when she smells the steak you’re cooking, trudging to the kitchen grumpily.

“Hello sleepy head.”

“Hola,” she grunts back, sitting on the counter and rubbing her eyes.

You hand her a bottle of water and force her to have half, knowing she was probably thirsty but too stubborn to drink water. She jumps off the counter and throws the finished bottle in the trash before standing behind you and hugging you like she did earlier. She kisses your neck softly, arms snaked under her hoodie you had on.

“Dinner will be ready in 5, baby.”

“I’ll set the table. You’re the best, you know that?”

“I know.”

She laughs and lets go, setting the table before calling for Ingrid. You walk in with three plates, putting theirs in front of them before sitting down with your own. Ingrid digs in, sighing when she takes a bite. You smile and watch her eating as you join her while Mapi scarfs down her food at lightning speed.

“You hungry?” you ask her teasingly, grinning when she looks up with a mouth full of food.

“You’re in the wrong profession bebé.”

“These hands save lives and feed them. I love both babe; it makes me happy to see you both and the girls enjoy my cooking. Besides, it helps me destress from work.”

//

“Y/N!”

You heard your name being called during a game against Real Madrid. You look up and grab your medical bag and rush onto the field without knowing which player you’re treating. When you get there, your heart nearly stops. It’s María, face wincing in pain.

“María? Talk to me love, what hurts?”

“What doesn’t?”

“Quit being a smartass, tell me what hurts!”

“Ankle, I think her studs caught it.”

You move lower and grasp her leg, examining her ankle. You twist it to see the reaction and she yells out. Ingrid is kneeling by her head and stroking her hair, whispering softly to her to calm her down. You carefully pull her boot off followed by her sock, her ankle already starting to bruise.

“She’s out, she can’t play like this.”

“I can, just need a minute.”

“You will not, I’m pulling you off.”

The tone you used got her to stop arguing, you motioned for the stretcher to haul her off the pitch. Ona was already warmed up and ready to go, taking her spot in the game while you tended to Maria.

She sat in the examination room quietly as you iced her ankle and taped her up. She winced and whined which you promptly ignored, knowing she would complain about it after. You helped her back to the benches to watch the rest of the game, keeping her leg elevated and thoroughly iced.

“Are you okay, elskling?” asked Ingrid after the game, helping María into the car after she showered and changed, both of them positively excited by the win.

“Yes but no one has kissed it better yet.” She replies with a pout, you roll your eyes at her as you put their bags in the back with yours.

“Our Y/N didn’t kiss it better? What kind of doctor are you?” Ingrid accused you, Mapi nodding deftly with her. You chuckle and look at both of them in disbelief, hopping into the driver’s seat. Mapi was in the back with her leg across the backseat, Ingrid climbing into the passenger seat grinning.

“I did my job, I will not coddle you María.”

“I am your girlfriend, the contract says you must coddle me.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“No.”

“Any discomfort?”

“Not really.”

“Can you put pressure on your leg despite it being black and blue?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly wrapped.”

“Then I did my job.”

She huffs, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Fine, I will kiss it better when we get home.”

“You big softy.”

“Your leg is about to be even worse, María.”

//

“Y/N!”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me?”

You walk into the living room to find Mapi reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Ingrid is sitting there with a book, apparently ignoring Mapi.

“I can’t reach the remote.”

“Why did you call me when she’s literally sitting right there? I’ve got food on the stove!”

“She’s ignoring me.”

“And why is that, love?”

“I threw her book across the room when she didn’t want to cuddle me.”

“Sounds like you deserve it then.”

“I am injured! You’re both supposed to pity me! Baby me!”

“You don’t throw your girlfriends book across the room when she tries to read!”

“And you don’t call her a hundred and one times just to get you the remote!”

María leaned forward and managed to grab the remote, grinning up at you proudly.

“Got it! Sorry babe, don’t need you after all!”

“Call me one more time María León and I will make sure you never walk again.”

She cowers, turning on the tv and watching it till dinner time. You bring dinner to the both of them and enjoy a little tv along with it. Ingrid cleans up and comes back to cuddle you, pulling you into her arms as her hands thread through her hair. You scoot Mapi up between your legs gently, braiding her hair into small locks. Suddenly she speaks up, looking at the both of you propped up on her elbow.

“I’m sorry I annoyed the both of you today. I just wanted your attention but I guess I just didn’t know how to say it without sounding pathetic.”

Both you and Ingrid sit up and look at each other in shock. Mapi sat herself up too, Ingrid and you moving around to kneel before her. She looks at her hands, picking at a hangnail.

“Darling, you never have to do that to get our attention. You just have to ask us, we’ll both drop everything for you.”

“You’ll never sound pathetic for asking us to love on you mi amor, that’s what we’re here for! You deserve it, you never have to hide it bebé.”

She smiles, biting her lip. You lean in and kiss her, gently caressing her leg. Ingrid moves behind her, kissing down her neck and rubbing her arms. Mapi moans into the kiss, hands flailing between you and Ingrid, unsure of what to do.

You lean over and kiss Ingrid over Mapi’s shoulder as she watches, eyes wide. Nothing turns her on more than seeing both her girlfriends making out. Ingrid takes the lead in the kiss, cradling your head how she wants, obviously licking into your mouth as your tongues taste each other. Mapi outwardly moans, which makes the both of you pull away slowly.

“Wanna join us upstairs, cariño?”

“Upstair­–I am a CRIPPLE!”

“Just joking, hold on.”

You pick her up easily, leading the way up to your bedroom. Mapi leans into your neck and kisses you, biting down softly. You gently set her on the bed, stripping her of her clothes. Ingrid suddenly pulls you into her, kissing you hotly as she makes Mapi watch. She makes a show of groping and caressing you, your hands tangled in her messy hair. She moans when you tug, pulling away to attach your mouth to her unmarked neck. She keens, holding onto you as you bite and suck. Mapi is touching herself, hand dipped between her legs as she noisily gets wetter and wetter.

“Enjoying the show?” Ingrid asks her, hands beginning to pull off your clothes sensually. Mapi watched with dark eyes, slipping a finger into herself as you swayed your hips and kissed lower down Ingrid’s body. You did the same to her, pulling off her clothing and tossing them about the room. Mapi moaned loudly when you kneeled before Ingrid and kissed between her legs. You pulled her underwear down and leaned in, kissing her barely peeking clit. You spread her a little and feasted, licking and sucking on her as she pulled your hair and keened. Mapi had two long fingers inside her now, the wet sounds coming from both sides of the room as you aided each other in getting off. Ingrid pushes you to kneel before the bed, leaning back for her to ride your face. You let her get comfortable before she pulls your hair back and grinds herself down on your face. Your nose devotes itself to grazing her clit as your tongue sticks out for her to sink herself on. She groans and looks up to see Mapi panting and fingering herself, eyes focused on the scene in front of her.

Ingrid pulls away just before she cums, leaning in to give you a searing kiss. She groans and pulls your face into hers when she tastes herself so potently on your tongue. Mapi screams incoherent Spanish, cumming hard from the erotic live show she’s got to give herself mind-numbing pleasure.

The two of you grin and climb onto the bed to kiss her, lips locked in a hot three-way lip-smacking fight for dominance. Mapi comes out of top, pulling the both of you off her to make out for her to watch briefly. She smirks at you and kisses both of you separately, giving it to both of you how you like it.

“Grab my strap for me, darling.” Mapi tells you, you hop off the bed and do what she asks while Ingrid checks on her leg. It’s been a couple days and she’s really resting just as precaution, but the two of you worry about her anyway.  

Ingrid helps her put it on, while you sit at the foot of the bed and watch. Mapi strokes it briefly before looking at you, gesturing you to come to her. You crawl to her slowly, swaying your hips just to tease. She smirks and waits patiently, pulling you to straddle her hips. The strap pokes your inner thigh when you sit on her, Ingrid leaning in to kiss you softly as Mapi caresses your thighs.

“Want you to ride me, niña.”

You whine and sit up, arousal becoming more evident when her hand slips between your legs and pulls away soaked. No one had touched you at this point, your pent-up arousal pooling generously in your cunt.

“No need for lube, wanna see you sit on my cock angel, come on.”

You listen, holding her cock steady for you to sink down onto it. You whine and shudder as it fills you, the stretch pleasant and painful at the same time. It was soul-snatchingly addicting. You bounced a little, testing the waters. Ingrid kissed you and slowly rubbed your clit, Mapi’s hands caressed your thighs and hips, softly encouraging you as you took more and more of her cock.

Finally, fully speared on her, you slowly rode her cock; moaning loudly when she gave your ass a couple hard smacks. Ingrid moved to ride her face, facing you to lean in and make out. It was pleasurable for all of you, your hands held Ingrid’s as she cupped your cheeks and kissed you harder. Mapi was devouring her pussy, noisy slurps filled the room as it blended with the slick sounds between your legs. You cried out her name when her cock grazed your spot, angling your hips to hit it each time you sank down on her. It made your head spin; her cock filled you deep and full.

Ingrid was also panting now, your hands groping at her breasts as she resumed circling her fingers over your swollen clit. Everyone was close, orgasms right there ready for us to grasp. You were riding Mapi harder now, bouncing on her thick cock, desperately pleading to cum. Ingrid was the same, grinding down on her face while reached back to pull on her hair.

You grabbed Ingrid’s face when you came, kissing her fervently as she came right after you. Mapi too reached her peak for the second time that night, chin wet with a fucked-out smile on her face.

//

“All healed now, Maps?” Ona asked her as you all got on the plane to travel to Frankfurt.

“Yes, I am fit as a fiddle. Did you know that sex is the best medicine?”

“I will injure you again, María. I may heal people for a living, but remember; I know how to undo the healing and that is a promise.” You told her, the whole plane laughing when the defender cowered into her seat and tried to hide behind Lucy as you and Ingrid gave her the death stare.

[the-kr8tor]

Hobie Brown Night-time headcanons.

Pairing: Spider-Punk x GN! Reader/ Hobie Brown x GN! Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: Established relationship, fluff, No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except having piercings), smut only implied. SFW

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Hobie almost always goes home really late and you'll be waiting for him, snoring away on the couch. Everytime he sees that you've fallen asleep waiting for him to come home guilt eats at him, so he always carries you to bed and tucks you in, to satiate the emotion.

But on rare occasions where he comes home at the same time you do or earlier than you've expected, he always greets you with a bear hug. 

Whenever he had a bad day wrangling the villain of the week, when he thought he wouldn't come back home to you that day, he hugs you tighter, lifts you up, and twirls you around the living room just to hear you laugh. (Of course he wouldn't tell you that) Slowly Hobie's smile spreads across his face, lifting the day's hardships away from him. 

If he ever comes home injured, you're always there ready to patch him up. You even learned how to properly stitch a wound ( from a youtube video no less) for him. 

Of course there's always a time where you suggest going to the hospital whenever he has an injury you can't treat with just a simple first aid kit, but Hobie stubborn as he is just says-

"Your hands are just softer love, and you give me kisses right after, let's see the NHS do that" 

You can't help but roll your eyes at his quip, but your true feelings show through with how your breath hitches. You focus on patching him up instead of thinking about how much pain he's experiencing. It's safe to say you don't sleep properly every time Hobie comes home injured, you always wake up in the middle of the night to check up on him. Thanks to his enhanced healing, he always gets back up in the morning.

When the planets align with Hobie coming home early and uninjured, you heal his soul by making him his favorite meal. Hobie helps a lot, no matter how many times you kick him out of the kitchen so he could relax for once. He couldn't help himself by helping you cook. Whenever you two are in the kitchen, laughter and warmth fills your modest flat.

"Hobie, you're gonna make the soup all clumpy!" You say with wide eyes as he straight up pours all the cornstarch without mixing it properly.

"I don't believe in consistency" Hobie tells you straight faced. 

"What does that even mean!" You push him away with your hips, so you could fix the soup. He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up easily. 

"Hobie, where are you taking me?!" You feign anger with your voice, but you failed when a giggle escaped your throat.

"I like it chewy!" Hobie replies with a smile.

"It's soup, it's not supposed to be chewy!" You struggle in his arms as he brings you to the couch. He drops you on the couch with an oof coming from you

"No Chewy soup for you then" he leans down on top of you for a kiss.

After a warm bath, you do your skincare routine or you try to at least, you keep stopping with your routine though. With Hobie sitting with one leg up on your counter, wearing a pair of fresh pajama pants that have a bunch of guitars printed on them, (You bought them for him years ago as a joke, he claims he hates them but he keeps wearing them the moment they come out of the washing machine) He's wearing one of his homemade band shirts, with its sleeves cut off by Hobie himself, his arms in full display. So you can't help but get distracted. 

"Y'know you could always ask me to put some on you" you turn to him, eyes gleaming with hope that he finally takes you up on your offer. 

"Like I'll ever need them" he winks at you. "And y'know how I don't like consumerism" 

Knowing that he's won again, you shake your head at him with a small smile. 

A few weeks later you find out why he's been watching you so intensely every time you do your skincare routine. You're out one night drinking with your friends at a local pub. 

You get home drunk off your ass, This time Hobie's the one waiting for you on the couch. He shoots up from the couch the second he hears your keys jingle. 

"Had fun, love?" He's waiting for you nonchalantly acting as if he wasn't snoring away on the couch. 

"Heyyo baby" You greet him by hugging his middle. "Had soo much funn" your slurred speech making him smile.

"You also look like it" He tells your disheveled state.  

"You're meannn" You say as he leads you to your shared bathroom. 

He perches you on top of the counter with ease. And grabs all your skincare from the medicine cabinet.

"Whatcha doin" you asked with your head tilted, focusing really hard on Hobie's hands while he opens up your micellar water. 

"Cleaning you up, so you don't break out" he says as he puts the soaked cotton ball on your face, softly cleaning it. "You're gonna thank me in the morning"

"Aha! So you do listen, you big softie you!" You playfully jab his face. In retaliation he rubs at your eyelids with the cotton ball without telling you. 

"Whoops" he smirks. You give him your best angry face you could muster up while in your state, which ended up with Hobie laughing at your face.

If Hobie still has piercings that aren't fully healed yet, you offer your help in cleaning the hard to reach areas. If you have piercings that still need to be taken care of, Hobie always instigates to clean it for you since you always forget or are too tired to do it yourself. 

Hobie's cleaning your new helix piercing with a cotton swab and saline. You're sitting on his lap, your back facing him.

" You're not a worm stop squirming"  Hobie says, frustrated with you moving away from his lap. 

"It tickles Hobie" You say with a laugh.

"Keep moving like that, and you'll get tickled a different way" Hobie teases, as he loops his legs on top of yours, locking you in place.

"Hobie!" You gasp at his implication.

At the end of the night you both finally lay down on your  shared bed, you snuggle up to Hobie, as he tucks you both in the comforter. You cuddle and talk about your day until you both passout.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed reading! Sorry if it looks weird on pc, since I'm posting this on mobile. Feel free to like and reblog! ♥️

[wintfleur]

👩🏻‍🎨 ͡ ꒱ ₊ ⊹‹𝟹˚.‧₊ THE ONLY EXCEPTION ⊹ au masterlist

━━━ ❛ but darling, you are the only exception

── ୨୧ 𝓹airing : Estella Hughes (oc) x Rutger McGroarty

── ୨୧ 𝓢ummary : the youngest hughes and her love story with rutger

˖ ་ you can find everything under #👩🏻‍🎨 ͡ ꒱ Stella Hughes!

˖ ་ you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

˖ ་ asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

˖ ་ asks about Stella, Rut and there family are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🏠୧˚ McGroarty family

˖ ་ smutty asks about Stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨💒୧˚ smutty stella & rut!

∿ ABOUT OUR GIRL !

she knows she’s just that girl (Stella’s profile)

stella on the web ! (a visual breakdown of stella’s social media accounts)

stella’s discography

her timeline w/ juraj & rut

what if? ; a spinoff AU series with stella hughes

∿ HER RELATIONSHIPS !

her relationship with her brothers

her relationship with rutger

her relationship with her besties

her relationship with sunghoon

her relationship with daisy

∿ FICS !

Boys suck anyway!

we’re just really good friends!

talking bodies ꒰nsfw꒱ (coming soon)

∿ SOCIAL MEDIA AUS !

tis’ the season of snow and soft launches 🎄

V-day with Pookie

Pretty boys b-day!

BABES IN BAHAMAS!

PRETTY GIRLS B-DAY!

EEPY ETHANS B-DAY!

the start to a chaotic summer !

impromptu escape !

happy birthday lukey

happy birthday quinny

summer bummer babe

∿ SHORTER FICS !

my sleepy girl

dog pile!

my captain!

sugar cookies and peppermint chapstick 🎄

hat tricks and kisses

broken bratz dolls and hello kitty band-aids

put a bow on it

tears, wishes and kit-kats

passing out spells and a misinformed quinny

it’s just a prank !

going home (featuring Stella Hughes!)

old nicknames and quick byes.

you’re my future . . .

Faceoff: inside the NHL 𝓯eaturing Stella Hughes

∿ BLURBS !

juraj and stella moment

rutger and stella on plane coming home from Sweden

best big brother ever!

mischievous three

∿ TIKTOK TRENDS !

it’s just a prank !

he’s so pretty when he goes down on me!

best big brother ever!

∿ ASKS !

Stella and her journey with anemia, w/ protective Jack

more facts about Stella

pictures that remind me of Stella and Trevor

pictures that remind me of Stella and Rutger

pictures that remind me of stella and luke

pictures that remind me of stella and Jamie

people who have/had a crush on Stella

what do Jack and Quinn think about Stella and Rutger

more Luke thoughts about Stella and Rutger

Nico and Stella

Stella and ruts fav physical thing about each other

Stella and Molly

rutger reacting to stella’s nightmares

Nico finding out about Stella and rutger

people’s reaction to walking in on Stella and rut making out

random questions about Stella and Rutger

Stella and her bikinis

five fun facts about Stella

Stella’s brothers helping with her anxiety

Tate helping Stella with her insecurity in singing

thoughts on Stella and rut getting walked in on by her brothers

more thoughts on Stella and Tate

Rutgers favorite pictures of Stella

stella at the New Jersey devils family skate thoughts

pictures that remind me of Stella and juraj

Stella on Trevor’s birthday

pregnancy scare

what if Stella got injured

the aftermath if Stella go injured

Stella’s underrated friendships

there future thoughts

love songs that remind me of Stella and rut

Stella and mark

Stella, dahlia and the boys trip

Stella with an injured and clingy Jack

everyone’s reaction to Stella and juraj getting exposed

jacks birthday post

Stella and Rutger apartment life

who would be Stella and Ruts children’s godparents?

Stella’s figure skating style!

who matches Stella’s freak ?

six random questions about Stella

more thoughts on Luke finding out about Stella and rut

Stella’s favorite figure skating programs & costumes

Stella being naturally good at things

more details from the ‘impromptu escape smau’

Luke and Stella yapping during the sibling road trip

favorite short n’ sweet songs

stella telling her brothers that ‘they are serving cunt’

lily and Carmen’s relationship with Stella’s brothers

∿ SMUTTY THOUGHTS !

cockwarming

morning sex

rut’s obsession with Stella’s boobs

rough sex thoughts

oral headcanons with our hottest couple

Luca, rut and Stella after the frozen four loss thoughts

﹕─┈ copyright © 2024 you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layouts.

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

divider by @chaefilm x

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Slashers when you give them a cheesy nickname

Jason Voorhees

He is busy maintaining his weapons when he feels you lean on him.

"What're you doing, Jasey-honey?"

Poor guy gets so startled that he accidentally cuts himself while sharpening his machete. You quickly slip around him to inspect the long cut on his thumb. Thankfully, the wound isn't deep. You quickly reach for the first aid kit you keep nearby and start to clean it out.

Jason watches you intently. You've been with him for years, he knows, deep down, how much you love each other. But at times, the scars left by years and years of rejection by everyone but his mother resurface and make every display of affection from you come as a surprise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you", you mutter. "I've been calling you that in my head for a while, and now it just kinda slipped out."

He leans down until his forehead meets yours, with only the rough, cold material of his mask between you two. His eyes stare into yours, almost expecting mockery, but finding nothing but sincerity. He closes his eyes and lingers for a short moment, before he sits upright again.

Vincent Sinclair

The two of you started with the nicknames fairly quickly. When he emerges from his basement in the morning, looking for some coffee and breakfast, you turn to him, give him your brightest smile and say:"Coffee is ready, my love."

His eye brightens and he pulls you into his arms, slipping up his mask just far enough to pepper your neck and shoulder with gentle kisses. God how he loves hearing you call him that. If you're not careful with that kind of language, he'll end up having you for breakfast instead.

Someone clears their throat, making you jump apart. You completely forgot that Bo also happens to be in the room. He looks at the two of you over the rim of his mug, with an expression that tells you to get a damn room already.

Freddy Krueger

No.

Just no.

Freddy isn't the romantic type and can't stand it when you're trying to be all cutesy with him. That, of course, does not stop you. In fact, it only encourages you to find the most cringy, sickeningly sweet nicknames, just to tease him.

"My sweet nightmare-"

"No."

"My studmuff-"

"No."

"My crispy-"

"No."

He scowls at you while you collapse in a fit of laughter. You're lucky he loves you so much. Anyone else wouldn't have survived past the first nickname. But make no mistake; he will get back at you for teasing him like that.

Bubba Sawyer

Drayton told you to call Bubba up for dinner. So you just open the door to the lower level and call out:"Bubsy! Darling! It's dinnertime!"

A few feet behind you, you hear Drayton choke on his drink and Chop Top burst out laughing.

Bubba immediately rushes up the stairs, a lovestruck grin on his face. Once he reaches you at the top of the stairs, he gives you a tight bear-hug and a loving kiss. He *loves* cheesy nicknames, and you love how happy they make him.

"Not in front of your brothers, Bubs", you remind him with a chuckle and give him one last peck on the cheek before sitting down at the table together. Drayton isn't a big fan of your relationship in general but he accepts it as long as you keep the PDA to a minimum.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms doesn't mind cutesy nicknames overall… except for one. You learn that the hard way.

You're busy with chores, humming to yourself and looking up when he enters the room. You smile at him.

"Oh hey, Brahmsey."

His eyes widen and his entire body tenses up. Then he spins around and rushes out, and before you can follow him, you hear something being thrown against a wall. You are, of course, familiar with Brahms' outbursts. But you are kind of lost on what caused this one. Did you forget a rule?

You continue what you were doing until the ruckus from the other corner of the house stops. Only then do you put aside your work and go check on Brahms.

You find him in his hideout, feathers from ripped pillows and splinters of wood and porcelain shards still stuck on his clothes and in his hair.

"You will leave me", he says accusingly, before you even have a chance to ask what happened. "Greta called me Brahmsey, and she left me."

Oh.

"Brahms… darling." You sit with him and let him lean on you. "I will never, ever leave you. I promise."

[p0orbaby]

I have a possible blurb request for mary earps please??

r still lives in england and mary’s over with psg. mary comes back from paris for international duty and finally gets to see r again.

maybe mary surprises r by coming back a day early and comes home to see r in mary’s psg shirt

-

The flat is too quiet, but you’ve learned to live with that. Mary’s voice used to echo through the place—she’s not exactly subtle when she’s home—but with her in Paris, it’s been quieter. Not lonely, exactly. Just… quieter.

Now, the only noise comes from the hum of the kettle and the faint tinny sound of some reality TV rerun you’ve half-watched four times already. You’re standing in the kitchen, her oversized PSG shirt hanging off you, half-distracted as you wait for the water to boil. It’s the away kit—black and gold—soft from too many washes. She left it behind, and you’ve convinced yourself she wouldn’t mind.

The kettle clicks off. You pour the water over a tea bag, take a sip too soon, and immediately regret your life choices.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. You’ve survived this long-distance thing so far, even if it’s been weeks since you’ve had so much as a proper hug. Mary texts, she calls, she sends voice notes when she’s bored on team buses, but it’s not the same. You keep busy—work, friends, this new phase of your life where you apparently cosplay as a PSG superfan when no one’s looking.

Then there’s a sound. A faint jingle of keys.

You freeze.

No one else has keys.

“Don’t freak out,” comes a voice from the door. Familiar. Dry. A little smug.

Your tea sloshes onto the counter as you whip around, heart hammering.

Mary’s standing there, suitcase at her feet, coat hanging off one shoulder like she’s just walked out of a bloody rom-com. Except this is your kitchen, and rom-com Mary probably wouldn’t be grinning so much at the sight of you in her shirt.

“You’re back,” you say, because your brain is apparently still catching up.

“Early,” she clarifies, stepping inside. She looks far too pleased with herself, green eyes glittering as she takes you in. “Nice shirt, by the way”

You look down like you’ve forgotten what you’re wearing. “Oh, this old thing? Found it lying around”

“Hmm. Looks better on you, honestly.” She sets her suitcase aside and crosses the room in two strides, pulling you into her arms before you can think of a reply.

The hug is as good as you remembered. Maybe better. Her warmth seeps into you, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her—something clean, fresh, with an undertone of cheap hotel shampoo.

“God, I missed you,” she mutters against your hair.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back early”

“Yeah, well.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still on your waist. “I thought a surprise might be fun. Looks like I was right”

You laugh softly, looping your arms around her neck. “You were right. For a change”

She tilts her head, grinning. “This time? How often am I wrong?”

You don’t answer, just kiss her instead. It’s been too long, and judging by the way she immediately tightens her grip on you, she feels the same.

When you finally pull away, you’re both a little breathless.

“So,” she says, voice lighter now, “are you going to keep that shirt on, or do I get my wardrobe back?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m giving it back?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, her grin turning cheeky as she leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your heart stutter. “I might have a few ideas to convince you”

Your tea goes cold on the counter, but you don’t really care.

[allaboutnayeli]

it wasn't me [t.rodman x reader]

prompt: trinity refuses admit to stealing your clothes

author notes: the word for this mini fic is "steal" obviously. i swear this is the most trinity coded fic i have written for her. i'm knocking out a request for more trin fics and helping myself write more, killing two birds with one stone. hope y'all like it 💞

trinity has a problem. actually the right word would be an addiction. she can't stop herself from stealing your clothes. the mix of your perfume and body wash you use rubs off on your clothes, making her heart all happy so can you really blame her? it was a cute habit except for when you needed to actually wear your clothes and half of your closet was gone. still you never stop her, so trinity happily indulges in her you-based addiction.

the only downside of this is the fact trinity does not like admitting it. even if everyone obviously knows it. this isn't even due to a pride thing, the american player just doesn't like to admit it. in her mind technically your clothes are her clothes so is it really stealing?

"baby! have you seen my mickey mouse pajama pants? it's going to be a little chilly and i wanna wear them," you shout out as you look through the closet in your bedroom. trinity comes into the room when she responds, "nope. haven't seen it, babes." she leans against the door frame, watching you look through your closet.

unlike you, trinity was already dressed. it was around ten am and practice started at twelve pm, so you forced her to get up eight to get ready. she groaned the entire time and demanded kisses after she did every part of her routine. you happily obligated every time.

"ugh.." you let out a groan. just deciding to give up on your idea of being extra comfy in your pajama pants and instead grabbing some black sweatpants. at least it matches your white graphic tee and the grey jacket you planned to wear out. you turn, dropping the sweatpants on your bed before coming over to trinity. "are you sure you haven't seen them?" you mumble into her chest after hugging her. trinity straightens up to hug you back properly. swaying a bit as she rests her face against the top of her head.

"nope. i don't even remember you having a pair of mickey mouse pajama pants. maybe you just made that up"

"wow, am i being gaslight right now?" you joke making her laugh loudly. the hug goes on for a long moment before you pull away. "gotta slip on these pants so we can go. i want to stop by that brunch place you like to get breakfast," you move away from the door and go to stand next to your bed.

"what? the spirit cafeteria breakfast food isn't good enough for you anymore?" trinity leans back against the doorframe. a badly hidden smirk on her lips as she watches you near your bed.

"don't you know? when someone gets famous they have higher standards. it comes with the fame," you put on a fake sad tone when saying the last sentence. trinity snorts, rolling her eyes. "oh god, where has my humble girlfriend gone?" she says.

"she's dead," you shrug before glancing at the clock sitting on one of your nightstands, "alright. get out so i can change."

"i can't watch my own girlfriend?"

"sorry, no. that choice expired after the last time we didn't go anywhere," you give her a fake pout before making a shoing gesture. the american player lets out a long groan before moving away from your room. going off into the kitchen to eat up half of your snacks.

it doesn't take long for you to get fully ready. having to also do your hair and find your training kit which somehow ended up in the guest bedroom. trinity and you leave out of the house at 10:40. with you carrying both of y'all bags since trinity claimed her arms hurt. you throw the bags into the back seat before getting into the driver's seat. trinity was already in the passenger seat before you put the bags away. you get ready to drive off, but is stopped by trinity saying, "wait!"

"what?" you look over at her, a confused expression on your face. the american player just smiles, "i have to go grab something. i forgot."

you just shrug when she gets out of the car. five minutes after going into the house, trinity comes back out. the shock on your face can't even be described as you watch trinity walk out of the house in your mickey mouse pajama pants. the one that she specifically said she didn't even knew you had.

trinity gets into the car just like before. snapping in her seat belt before looking over at you, "alright. let's go! i'm still starvinggg."

you give her a blank stare. thinking that would be enough for her to realize the current irony going on, but nope, trinity just looks away from you. focusing on connecting her playlist to the aux. "you know ashley texted me yesterday and she's actually getting along well in north carolina. i never thought i would hear her say that, weird," trinity's face scrunches up in slight disgust before shrugging.

"baby.."

"what?"

"why do you have on my pajama pants? i was looking for those!" you say as you pull out of the driveway. the american player side eyes you before looking out of the window instead of directly at you.

"i don't know what you're talking about," after saying this trinity tries to change the subject, but you aren't letting up. you keep reminding her of the earlier conversation you two had, but trinity denies that it even happens.

you drop the topic at brunch. enjoying the moments of eating nicely made bacon and pancakes while trinity gossips her head off. you try to bring it back up when y'all get back in the car to drive to practice, but trinity still doesn't let up so you drop it.

practice goes by smoothly with trinity annoying you every five minutes. you two go back to your place afterwards and slow down for the rest of the day. it's around ten pm when you bring the topic back up; and it wasn't even your fault.

trinity is in the shower while you're scrolling on twitter. mostly seeing fan tweets and bad jokes when a post about trinity catches your eye. on the tweet is the photo the washington spirit posted on instagram of trin's pre-practice outfit. she's waving in the photo while walking, with you trailing closely behind her. the tweet says the way the pants don't even reach trin's ankles. we all know who pants those are 😭

you immediately send that to trinity's phone. ready to start up the conversation once again after your thoughts were affirmed by some stranger on twitter; thank you to that fan.

© thinkingaboutjaedyn

[wileys-russo]

I was wondering if you could write something with alessia x reader where r plays for an opponent team and they sorta get into it on the pitch because they’re so passionate playing

enemiesII a.russo

the london derby day was always an interesting one, for both fans and players alike. but it was even more challenging for you and your girlfriend, who played for rival teams, destined for that entire day to go from lovers to fierce rivals.

both you and alessia's passion was football, you'd met in the early youth camps for the lionesses and started off as best friends, though as time passed and the two of you grew up, your feelings for one another became a little less friendly.

it took a couple of years of dancing cautiously around these feelings before either one of you made a move, you'd played a singular season with man united on loan from chelsea and with so much time spent together it pushed the two of you to finally confess, laid down together listening to music in the back of your car one night when you were both too nervous to sleep.

since then, your season with manchester united had come and gone and your contract with chelsea was renewed. the season on loan taught you a lot about adapting to a different style of play and pushed you to challenge yourself, especially when playing against your friends and old team mates, making sure you played your very best despite that.

and it paid off. alessia was sad to see you go but understood that ultimately it was the best move for your career to return to your beloved blues, and so you did distance for awhile, spending weekends and free days and the off seasons flickering between london and manchester, alterntating who would do the travel each time.

but now with alessia having transferred to arsenal, you'd both made a decision to move in together, you'd been seeing one another a little over two years and felt it only right that this was the next step.

wanting a fresh start and not for alessia to feel like she was moving in with you rather than the two of you moving out together, you spent weeks prior to the announcement searching for the perfect place to call home.

fast forward and here you both were, wrapped up together in one another's embrace, both purposefully procrastinating needing to get up and start your day, fully knowing the moment your feet hit the carpet your bubble of love would be burst.

"we really need to get up soon love." you mumbled into alessia's shoulder, body vibrating with silent laughter at the audibly annoyed groan which left the blonde beneath you. "if i get up, will you let me score today?" your girlfriend cracked one baby blue eye open with a smirk.

"not a chance baby." you smiled at her attempt, peppering her lips with soft kisses as she pouted up at you in response. "okay. up we get!" you sighed, forcing yourself out of her strong hold and sitting up, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"come on, if you're quick we can save water." you suggested, standing to your feet and extending a hand, squealing as alessia practically jumped out of bed, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bathroom.

~

"from this moment forward my love, sworn enemies." you held out your hand as both you and alessia stood at your cars, dressed in your respective clubs colors, kit bags hanging off your shoulders and keys in hand.

"like i never knew you babe." alessia nodded in agreement, shaking your hand, pausing for a moment before yanking your body into hers, turning around and pressing you against her mercedes with a grin.

"buuut, one more for the road?" the taller girl tapped her lips expectantly as you shook your head. "sorry, don't kiss strangers." you shrugged, hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

"and i don't fraternize with the enemy, but i'm willing to make an exception if you are." the striker smiled charmingly as you paused, tapping your chin to think it over.

you sighed as if her request was an effort, leaning up and connecting your lips for a moment, your hands on her shoulders gently pushing her away as her tongue started to explore your mouth.

"french kissing a woman you don't even know, shame on you russo." you tutted, the blonde smacking your bum as you turned around, flashing you a cheeky grin and slipping into her car.

you flipped her off and blew her a kiss as you sat down in your own, both of you revving your engines before peeling out of the driveway, headed in opposite directions.

~

"they're pressing in hard, they're gonna be desperate to at least equalise!" you struggled to catch your breath as you were all paused, guro off to the side being assessed for a concussion as she'd taken a nasty headbutt a few moments ago when going up for a header.

"it's gonna get messy girls, watch out for one another and don't let communication die off!" millie warned you, jess and niamh who all nodded, taking a long drink and tossing your bottles back as guro was cleared and the ref blew the whistle for play to resume.

arsenal were down 2-1 and they needed to at least draw this game to keep in the running for top of the table, this match the very last of the weekends WSL fixtures.

and you hadn't been wrong, they were desperate, and tackles became more and more messy as the time wound down, 9 minutes of stoppage time all that remained for them to score.

"y/l/n, get her on the wing!" millie yelled as caitlin crossed it over to lia who tapped it in for alessia, who'd come hurtling down the left side as you sprinted over to intercept her before she reached goal.

you slid in for the tackle right as alessia sent it through for caitlin again, collecting her ankles and entirely taking out her legs, the blondes body thumping to the ground, forehead bouncing off the pitch.

you heard the away section start to scream for a penalty as you tried to get to your feet, but a hand tugging on the back of your jersey sent you flying back to the ground. "are you serious? get off!" you grunted, wrenching away your girlfriends hand as the two of you stood.

"am i serious? you just took out my legs studs up for no reason, are you trying to break my fucking ankle?" alessia shoved you harshly in the chest, face bright red as you heard the ref blow the whistle in warning.

"oh grow up! that was completely legal, you had the ball when i slid in." you shoved her back, not backing down as she glared down at you half a foot taller, the two of you standing chest to chest. "she went in studs up, that should be a card!" alessia yelled at the ref who joined you both and warned you each to calm down.

"are you joking me? that was soft!" you scoffed, shoving her away from you as she tried to stare down intimidatingly, feeling millies hands come to rest on your shoulders.

"oi back up away from her! that should a fucking red." katie appeared beside your girlfriend, pushing you harshly as millie held you back from retaliating.

"are you fucking serious? it was completely legal!" you threw your hands up as you watched the ref reach into her pocket, pulling out a red for the booking.

"hey we'll contest it. just walk away babe, don't make this any worse." millie murmured, moving an arm around your shoulder and starting to walk you away as your team stepped in to argue for you, several of the arsenal girls starting to contest the yellow card given to alessia for the shoving around.

"this is bullshit." you spat as you shrugged off millies arm, head hung low as you stormed off the pitch and into the tunnel, the sound of the chelsea fans booing the refs call following after you as you headed for the change rooms.

you kicked off your boots, throwing them around the room allowing yourself a tantrum before you thought better of it, hurrying to collect your things and shoving them back into your cubby, ducking off for a shower.

you were sat by your locker, showered and dressed in your tracksuit, knees tucked up to your chest as the rest of the team filed in. you'd checked the score on your phone, showing the girls manage to hold down your lead, narrowly scraping by and getting the crucial three points.

niamh and erin took their seats at their own lockers either side of you, niamh patting your back sympathetically and kissing your cheek as you sent her a small smile, a congratulations for their efforts slipping past your lips as emma joined you all.

you tuned out most of her speech, giving a weak nod as she confirmed millies words that the red would be attested in hopes you'd be able to play next week, before the older woman took you aside one on one for a gentle but firm reminder about keeping cool.

"come on stroppy, off we go." millies arm fell over your shoulders once you'd grabbed your things, though she guided you in the wrong direction as you frowned. "mills my cars that way, where are we-" your words stopped as you noticed them.

"are you joking? no way." you huffed, trying to turn around as millies grip on you tightened, as did leahs on alessia as she pushed the younger girl down the hallway.

"now girls, obviously tensions arose and some not so nice words were exchanged. but thats football, and we leave it out on the pitch." leah started, your national captain giving you both a stern look as millie hummed in agreement.

"she got me a red for nothing!" you protested, looking to millie for some sort of support as alessia scoffed. "she studded me!" alessia retaliated, crossing her arms firmly over your chest. "no no no! we leave it, on the pitch." millie warned, grabbing your arms as leah grabbed alessias.

"what are you-" "oh this is just-"

both girls forced your arms to wrap around one another, both you and your girlfriend going limp as they fell back off. "no! hug it out and say you love each other." millie ordered sternly, leah draping alessias arms over your shoulders as yours were forcibly wrapped around her torso by millie.

"im getting annoyed here!" leah warned, tapping her foot impatiently, you and alessias eyes rolling in sync as you hugged one another. "now say you love each other." millie waved and you withheld the urge to lash out at her.

"i hate you." you mumbled into the blondes shoulder, feeling her sharply pinch you for the comment as millie stepped in to hold your arms against one another, still forcing you into the hug.

"say it! or the next national camp i swear to god i will ruin the both of you. im talking hill sprints, push ups, burpees, i'll even make you do a private little beep test." leah warned seriously, pulling her captain rank as you sighed.

"love you, even if you tried to break my fucking ankle." "love you, even if you played it up to the ref."

"no! with sincerity, and a little smooch." millie ordered, leaning against the wall beside leah as you both groaned, though admittedly most of your anger had melted away the tighter your girlfriend clung onto you.

"i love you." alessia unwrapped one of her arms to grab your chin, turning your head and pecking your lips with a roll of her eyes. "i love you too." you leant up to quickly brush your lips with hers in return, both of you looking to your co-captains with raised eyebrows as they waved for you to separate.

"i'll see you at home?" alessia questioned, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, all traces of anger gone from her features. "i'll see you at home." you sighed, leaning in and properly kissing her, ignoring the immature squeals from the two older blondes to your side.

after all the moment you crossed the threshold of your shared home, you were enemies no more.

[cjlouwho]

The Clarity

The final part of my Meeting the Parents series! You can start from the beginning here, and read the final part below or on ao3. Each part can be read separately, but it makes more sense if you read them all.

They had just made it out of The Gables and onto paved road when Buck couldn't stay silent any longer. He had been staring down at the photo album, listening to Tommy sniff and suck in breaths every now and then. And judging by the fact he was occasionally swerving slightly off the road, it was easy to assume his eyes were blurred with tears.

“Tommy,” he started, his voice soft yet assertive, “you need to pull over.”

Tommy sniffed again. His grip on the wheel tightened. “No, I'm okay.”

There was no way he could drive all the way home like this, and no way that Buck was going to let him. “Tommy,” he repeated. He looked over at him, noted the red-rimmed eyes and his trembling lip. Buck reached out and touched his shoulder, stroking his thumb back and forth over the muscle. “Babe, pull over.”

Buck wasn't sure if it was the touch, or the pet name, but the dam Tommy had been building up burst. He pulled over to the side of the road just as the tears started to fall.

He leaned forward, shoulders shaking. He rested his hands and head against the steering wheel.

The photo album was quickly dropped to the floorboard. Buck unbuckled and raised the center console so he could scoot into the middle seat and wrap himself around Tommy. It was an awkward angle, but one arm wrapped around his waist, while the other rubbed up and down his back. He laid his head against Tommy's shoulder and held him.

They were like that for awhile. Silent except for the occasional gasp of breath from Tommy. Buck didn't try to stop him, didn't try to silence his cries. He just maintained his hold, and wished more than anything he could go back to the Kinard's place and knock Frank out.

It took a few minutes for Tommy's breathing to return to normal. Buck moved away just enough for him to sit up, but kept a hand on his back.

“I don't know why I'm crying,” Tommy admitted, pressing his palms against his eyes. “I'm not even sad, I'm angry.”

“That's understandable. He- He's an easy man to get angry at.”

“I don't even think it's him I'm angry at. It's me.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “You? Why would you be mad at yourself?”

Another wipe of the eyes and Tommy turned to Buck, who looked all kinds of concerned. “I should have known better, Evan,” he said. “I led you in there blind, and I... I should have known better.”

“You told me they were unpredictable.” Buck shrugged. “You weren't wrong.”

“The last few times I've gone, Dad's been mostly silent. Even when mom threw that frying pan at his head, it wasn't because of anything he said, it was because he kept trying to stumble toward her and tickle her. I thought,” he let out a humorless laugh, “I thought if I brought you with me, showed them how good we are together, they'd be happy for me. For us.”

There were so many things Buck wanted to say, but none of them sounded right. None of them would fix anything.

Instead of I'm sorry or you know I love you, right the thing that came out of Buck's mouth was, “Let's get a motel.”

Tommy blinked once, twice, three times at him. “What?”

“Let's get a motel,” he repeated. “We don't have work tomorrow. Let's be spontaneous, drive to the nearest motel, do some sightseeing in the morning.”

“There's not really much to see here.”

“Oh, I'm sure there is. All the crappy motels have those stands with the brochures. We'll close our eyes and pick something.” Buck leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of Tommy's mouth before moving back to his seat. “You want me to drive?”

Tommy, still trying to figure out what was happening, stared out the windshield at the vast amount of nothingness around them. “We don't have any stuff.”

“Please, we have emergency bags in both cars. Clothes, toiletries, first aid kits, whatever we need is back there.”

That was true. Seeing as they were both a bit disaster prone, they had started leaving a duffel for each of them in both vehicles. Whether it was a natural disaster, or manmade, they'd be prepared.

Still, Tommy had questions. “Why are we doing this?”

Buck reached out, wrapped his hand around Tommy's wrist, giving him a pleading look. “Does sitting at home for the rest of the afternoon sound intriguing to you? It'll be fun, Tommy. We'll be like cowboys on the run.”

*****

Cowboys on the run turned into a thirty minute drive toward an overpriced stay at a lackluster motel just off the highway named Frederico's Sleep n' More. “I don't even wanna know what the more stands for,” Tommy mumbled when they walked into the room.

Evan had intended to use the restroom and return to Tommy all perky and ready for whatever adventure awaited them in whatever town they were in now. But as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom he was met with Tommy lying on top of the bed, feet dangling off the edge, not asleep but eyes closed. He looked relaxed, which was a relief, but Buck couldn't help the sadness that overcame him at the sight. This man who drove three hours just to help his parents out for the day being treated like garbage. Almost worse actually, because garbage once served a purpose, and it seemed to them that Tommy never did.

Buck walked to the bed, toeing off his shoes before gently letting his body dip beside Tommy.

Tommy, eyes still closed, laid out his arm. A silent ask for Buck to curl up beside him.

He never had to be asked twice.

Once Buck was tucked into Tommy's side, head resting on his chest, Tommy folded his arm over him. The soft scratches up and down his back had Buck closing his own eyes, humming out a sigh of contentment.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” Buck asked. He rested a hand over Tommy's pec, and Tommy brought his free one up to wrap around it.

“Always.”

“Did- When you got hurt, did your mom or dad ever get you things? Like, to try and make you feel better?”

Tommy didn't even have to think about it. “No. My mom would get me a couple things for my birthday and Christmas, usually clothes. And the only thing I remember my dad ever buying me was a football when I was like ten, I think. He got pissed when I accidentally broke our window on a throw, so I didn't mess with it much after that. I did have to do a lot of odd jobs around the neighborhood to earn money for the new window though.”

“Did he...” Buck hesitated, and Tommy squeezed his hand.

“You can ask anything,” Tommy assured him.

“Your mom said he'd hit you sometimes, like when you'd get into trouble. Did he then?”

Tommy stiffened for a moment, and Buck almost regretted asking. “Yeah, he did. The belt was his favorite form of discipline.”

Buck sat up on his elbow so he could look at Tommy. “Even though it was an accident?” He couldn't imagine getting hit as a child, or hitting a child, regardless of whether the act was intentional or incidental.

Tommy squinted his eyes open just enough to see Evan. “Dad always said the best way to never make the same mistake twice was to remember the pain from the first time.”

Buck didn't even know what to say. No matter how distant and neglectful his parents might have been, he was never afraid of them. Never had to worry about being hit. He laid back on the bed, tugging Tommy over to him. They settled into their new positions, Buck with his arms wrapped around Tommy, Tommy with his head on Buck's chest and an arm draped over his waist.

“Do you remember that double wide across the street?” Tommy asked.

“Mhm.”

“Mrs. Thompson lived there when I was growing up. She had three kids, all girls and they were a few years older than me, but she liked me. She'd let me come over and do my homework at her dining room table. Her yard had grass and she'd let me play out back whenever I wanted. And when my dad would get really pissed at me, she'd let me hide out at her place until I saw the light turn off in my parents bedroom. That's how I'd know they were asleep, and I'd sneak back in my own bedroom window.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

“No. I'm sure they knew, but they never bothered to act like they cared. My dad did come to Mrs. Thompson's house a couple times looking for me, but she'd always say she hadn't seen me. She'd also tell him to get off her property because his breath was gonna stink up her whole house." Tommy snorted at the memory.

“She sounds like a good woman.”

“Mhm,” Tommy hummed, “she was. I used to pretend I was her kid. I'd say my name was Tommy Thompson. Thought it sounded better than Kinard. I swore that one day I'd grow up and have a home just like hers. Her girls were always happy, they all laughed together. Her husband worked a lot, but he was nice too. He played guitar and he'd let me sit with his girls and listen while Mrs. Thompson cooked dinner. Their house always smelled so good and clean. I- I wanted that so bad.”

“What happened to them?”

“Mr. Thompson died from a heart attack when I was about thirteen. That was rough, but Mrs. Thompson was so strong through all of it. She died while I was in Iraq; I didn't find out until after I got home. I was devastated. I'm not sure about their daughters.”

“They sounded like wonderful people,” Buck said. “I would have loved to meet them.”

“They would have loved you,” Tommy replied. He was sure of it too. “Anyone with half a brain would love you.”

Buck laughed at that, beginning to run his fingers through Tommy's hair.

The conversation died down there. Tommy never stayed awake very long when his head was getting rubbed. A couple of minutes and he was out like a light.

Buck couldn't sleep though. His heart still ached for Tommy, both present and past.

He was once a boy in desperate need of love. A mom to hug him, a dad to teach him. He didn't get either of those things.

He was a burden. That's all. A burden that neither parent ever really wanted in the first place. A mouth they had to feed, a body they had to clothe, a soul they had to provide for.

He was once a teenager, quiet and reserved. Too smart for his own good. Never congratulated for his accomplishments, never told he'd done a good job. Never guided down a path, but forced in one direction when he didn't make the right choices at seventeen years old.

He was once man who had resigned himself to never having love. Cut himself off to happiness and let anger and hatred bubble up inside of him. Pushed people away because the people he always cared about either didn't care about him or they left him somehow, even if they didn't mean to.

And now he was a man that, despite all of that, held endless love in his own heart. Who Jee called the “best hug giver”, much to Buck's dismay. Who would do anything for his friends, risking his own life without a second thought. Who calmed children at the scene of a four alarm fire when they didn't know if their mom had made it, and stayed with them until they'd all been reunited. Who stayed up all night when Buck was sick with the flu because the only thing that helped his nausea was for his back to be rubbed.

And everything started to make sense. It was clear why Tommy clung to the Buckley's the way he did. Why he was always ready and willing to hop on a helicopter to take Phillip to a game, or make sure Margaret was in town on one specific weekend to go to Carrizo Plain and look at the wildflowers. It made sense that he happily and quickly accepted that the Buckley's were trying, were actually making an effort to be there for their children now, even if was a bit late.

Late was better than never, and Buck had a feeling Tommy's own parents would never be making the effort that his own were.

It didn't make Buck magically forget his own turbulent past with his mom and dad. He'd still feel that twinge of jealousy when they'd laugh a little harder at Tommy's jokes, or listen to his stories a bit more intently. He'd still get a little annoyed at Tommy when he didn't notice.

But he did understand it now, which had been half the battle to begin with.

Carefully, as not to wake Tommy, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to do some research.

*****

Nearly two hours passed before Tommy started to stir. He lifted his head, glaring around the room in confusion until he remembered where he was at. He shifted so he could look at Buck, who was smiling at him softly. Buck loved how Tommy looked when he first woke up. His hair a curly mess, a little drool on his lips, eyelashes fluttering with every blink. And that rough voice when he'd first speak.

“Hi.”

Yeah. Just like that.

“Hi yourself. Get some good rest?”

Tommy nodded, pushing himself off of Buck but remaining by his side. “Mhm.” He rubbed his eyes, and did a little yawn as he stretched. “D'you sleep?”

“No. Had too much fun watching you.”

Buck was pleased by the smile that washed over Tommy's face. “M'hungry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his stomach.

Buck laughed. “Go freshen up and we'll find someplace for dinner.”

Tommy leaned over, a bringing his fingers just under Buck's chin, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Mm,” Buck moaned cheerfully as they parted. “What was that for?”

“Just love you.”

“I love you too.”

With one final kiss, Tommy got up and headed for the bathroom.

Buck took a screenshot of the website he had up on his phone. A reminder for himself to talk to Tommy about it during dinner. During his research, he'd found they were having a tulip festival outside of Los Angeles in a few weeks, and Buck was sure his mom would like to go.