#fic: of being reckless as young ( how damage gets done )

[theredquill]

fics : of being reckless and young ( how damage gets done ) & we’re in love

[eneiryu]

I re-read caught the stitch come loose but lost the needle instead and I was wondering what you're thoughts were of Theo's lack of sleep and nightmares from the perspective of Liam, Malia, Scott and Shohreh? Those are the four that you explicitly mentioned noticed "Theo pretending to sleep" (Shohreh), "the dark circles under his eyes" and the phone call from Malia where she says "I don’t know, maybe two hours, the last few nights," (Scott), the whole scene where Malia turns into a coyote to stay with him as he throws up and shakes and Shohreh tries to break the door down, and then in the prequal when Liam takes his nausea in the motel bathroom, when he talks him to sleep and later when he says something like "sleeping through the night means you're happy" or something. I'm just fascinated by the thought of these people seeing the impact that staying in the operating theatre, having his memories probed, using their equipment and techniques and them noticing that something was causing him to loose sleep. I know that he sleeps better with Liam there but 'two hours in a few nights' would be obviously bad for anyone, Theo included, and I was just wondering what you thought they felt/thought about that? Sorry for the weird ask, I'm just so curious, I love fics where the outside perspective on someone who is struggling is depicted

Agreed outsider perspective fics are always fascinating. No one ever “sees” themselves without unconscious biases and such, so it’s interesting to get the more objective view.

For Shohreh I think it’s probably different than the pack, because she had only known Theo by reputation, previously: she didn’t experience what the pack did with the Dread Doctors, or the Beast, or directly at Theo’s hands. So she’d know that he had a dark past, but it wouldn’t be personal. But she’s also an alpha and extremely aware of the swath of damage the Doctors had left behind (at least the way I’ve written her), and so I think she’d have that element of, is this karmic? Is this redemption, Theo trying to make up for what he’d done, but still tinged with that sense of distance. And more immediately: he’d be a person, and a young person at that, suffering right in front of her face, and not letting anyone help him through it. So I think that was really hard for her (hence her trying to break the door down), and trying to get Theo to be more reasonable, or more measured, in what or how quickly they were trying things. But at the same time: I write Shohreh as a leader among werewolf society, not just her pack, and Monroe posed a significant danger, and Theo potentially had the key to protecting them all from it. So I think it was this constant struggle for her between the practicality of needing Theo to go through what he did in order to stop Monroe, while knowing, eyes open, that as a result, a just-barely-adult was suffering extremely for it.

I think the only reason Scott didn’t step in and put a stop to it was that he wasn’t there, most of the time. He was getting it all secondhand, and when he was there, that’s usually when Liam was around, so Theo would be doing better. Because unlike Shohreh, I don’t know that Scott would have been able to sacrifice Theo’s wellbeing for the good of werewolf society as a whole. I think he would have demanded they find another way, not matter Theo’s or anyone else’s protests. But I also think Scott would realize that Theo inflicting all this on himself was something that Theo needed, which is an idea I’ve explored before in some of my stories: that Scott sees that Theo’s at times reckless attempts to help the pack are also him desperately trying to redeem himself, both to the pack and to himself, with the latter being more important. And I’m not sure that Scott would have been able to let himself get in the way of that—I think he would have worried that he’d be doing Theo more damage, and worse, if he did.

Malia it’s harder to say. She’s such a delightful mix of practical and just uninterested in and unaware of societal norms, so on the one hand I think she’d be thinking, well we need this information and this is the only way to get it, so of course Theo has to go through all this, while at the same time being like, well this is dumb and he’s hurting himself. But at the same time, I think Malia gets more than most that people need to be able to make their own choices, and their own mistakes, even if they’re self-destructive. That trying to take someone’s choices away and then call that care is honestly worse than almost anything. So I think she’d respect Theo’s choice, and she’d fight to make sure others respected it too, while at the same time being unhappy about what it was doing to him. Because against all odds, they had become friends, they had become pack, and it’d hurt her to see him struggling.

And Liam. Ah, Liam. Again I think part of the reason Liam didn’t lose it and demand that Theo stop, and everyone stop letting Theo do what he was doing, is that he wasn’t seeing it. Whenever he was around, Theo would be happier, calmer. He’d sleep. Liam was the immediate balm for him, so Liam wasn’t seeing the direct evidence of what was happening. And that might even make it harder for him to believe what he was being told about Theo the rest of the time, because it’d be such a stark change. So Liam might subconsciously dismiss it as exaggerated, or whatever—who could really go several nights in a row only sleeping two hours? They must have meant like, five, or two each night, or whatever. But if he had found out? If he had been confronted with it in a way he couldn’t ignore? I think he would have been so righteously furious, and he never would have let it continue, and he would have raged at everyone who did, no matter the fact that it may have denied them the ability to help stop Monroe, and led to more people getting hurt. I don’t think he ever would have been willing to sacrifice Theo for hypothetical “others.” The only reason he did it at the end of the story is because Theo literally begged him to, and Theo was right in front of him when he did.

Anyway, I’m not actually sure I answered your question(s), but I hope it was interesting anyway? Thanks for the ask!

[blankfairy]

hello .. i know i just followed but i hope i am invited to the resident evil oc party 👀 i am going to yap under the cut. possible spoilers for my resident evil oc fics but at the same time i think i've already done that on this blog,

my MAIN original character, who i have had for just abought eight years now — though only within the last four years or so was converted for resident evil — is dr. finley "finn" bondevik, who has come SO far from where he once was. made worse, even. as a person of course.

finn is a trans man, born in 1972 in san francisco, the child of a wealthy, well-educated couple... and was slated to be taken by the umbrella corporation and integrated into the wesker project. he was kidnapped when he was just a few months old, but his mother and father put a TON of effort into publicizing his case to bring him back home. umbrella decided to use this as another facet of their experiment (and to polish up their public image) and supported finn's mother and father in their search. lo and behold, finn was 'found.'

as such umbrella has been with finn his ENTIRE life. they made a public thing out of their support, providing him with medical care, education, state-of-the-art prosthetics for his missing leg (congenital amputee), etc... he was clearly a prodigy from a young age and umbrella only uplifted him. they silently encouraged his poor habits when it became clear something was. not right about him (dissecting roadkill, cutting open his arm to 'see what was inside'). and when his mother died when he was eight (influenza) and his father blamed him for it, finn fell harder into the arms of the scientists who had loved and supported him so.

got his ph.d. at fifteen just like birkin, immediately hired by umbrella. of course. placed with a scientist named dr. o'deorain. she was. a poor influence. he picked up smoking from her. after a disagreement about a particular medication/virus/can't think of the word right now, he decided to inject himself in the arm he'd cut open when he was young, hoping it would repair the muscle/nerve damage. it did not. his arm was amputated. the right side of his face was permanently scarred. he blamed it on o'deorain and he never heard from her again. alex wesker saw him in the hospital and he came to see her as his sort of 'case worker.'

finn bounced around between mentors a bit because he's such a reckless, stubborn shithead but found his place with dr. william birkin! they hit it off and so for a few years he was at the arklay facility, then nest. also had a brief relationship with albert wesker, unfortunately for him. and met my partner's oc dimitri vikhrov who's ubcs!

worked on g's uses as a bioweapon at nest. created the g-hunters as well as the revenants. began an illicit relationship with william birkin in 1994, which would later become romantic. got insanely tired of working on g because it was being so difficult for him, while it seemed william was having so much luck,, felt bitter and used and stagnated because will wouldn't listen to his concerns/complaints. this started to come to a head in july 1998.

this period of time is what i'm writing a whole fanfic about but basically: the dichotomy of finn's loyalty to umbrella and his love for william. umbrella treating him as the next in a long line of betrayals: marcus, mentor to william, killed, his research given to will; william, mentor to finn... you know how it goes. their relationship falls apart as finn struggles between the company that raised him, that wants him to be the best he can be, and the man he loves so intensely it may as well just be obsession. in the end, william still ends up half dead. finn injects him with the g-virus, then devil. he lives. their relationship does not. and finn also gets his only good ankle ripped apart by a half-mutated licker.

uhhhh yap yap yap THEY EVENTUALLY DO COME BACK TOGETHER. they're both so awful that they really have no one else to turn to. raccoon trials, they get taken into the custody of simmons, william is a valuable resource for both the g-virus and information... sometime in 2006, after the raid on the spencer mansion, finn discovers he's part of project w and that WILLIAM KNEW (not the full extent. but still). he was supposed to infect him with the prototype virus in '98, but after finding out it was KILLING other subjects, decided not to. but finn has survived worse, hasn't he? they stay together, and finn, in his delusion that after that they can survive anything and should be together forever, steals william's blood and cultivates a version of the g-virus for himself. he infects himself. william is rightly aggrieved. finn doesn't understand. properly delusional!

i don't have a lot monumentally for him after that other than they STILL are together in the 'present,' because sunk cost fallacy and all that. finn aids in research after the dulvey incident. accompanies chris in romania and ends up just. having the worst time ever. but survives. what can you do, y'know?

oh! and sometime in the mid 2010's he finds out... he has a daughter.

that daughter is SAMSA WESKER, who is the biological child of him and albert wesker. there is a whole explanation to how tf he didn't know, but the gist is she was grown in a test tube. infected with the prototype virus in-vitro. successfully adapted and born february 19th, 1991. she was named by her aunt (who i headcanon to be albert's twin), alex, for the samsa family in kafka's metamorphosis.

she was a prodigy, just like her fathers. i like to compare her to an animal taught how to be human, because the t-virus really did fuck up her behavior. she was brought up in laboratories and high-class mansions, sitting at dinner tables with lord oswell spencer, sergei vladmir, and alex. proper manners. proper business. manipulation, perceptive listening skills, etc. still there's still smthn very not right about her and it's easy to see that.

in the early 2000's, after the fall of umbrella i think?? alex introduced her to her father, who took a quick liking to her because he saw her as an extension of himself rather than her own person. she knew this and associated with him anyways. she didn't love him, or anything; she doesn't love anything or anyone, but it was mutually beneficial. she grew up with him and alex, skirting back and forth and placating the dying lord spencer from time to time. i know she sparred a fuck ton with her dad. spent many formative years with alex on seim island and learned how to speak russian.

wesker infected her with uroboros at some point, i think maybe when she was 16-17 or so? because if the virus successfully took to her, infected with the t-virus, it would take to him, too, wouldn't it? we all saw what happened to him in re5 though, so... no. after wesker's death she lived full-time on seim island with alex. came to be known as 'alex wesker's attack dog,' because she was 6'2", muscled, and alex was fond of using her to infect/off anyone who she deemed deserving. for all of samsa's efforts to push alex away from the 'mind transfer' route of immortality, revelations 2 went about the same.

so, trapped on seim island with a bunch of mutated monsters, dying islanders, and her own aunt now freakishly changed into a vindictive, paranoid beast of impulse, samsa went a little crazy!! without a proper food source to keep up with the crazy fast metabolism the t-virus AND uroboros gave her, she became kind of. animalistic. did her best to keep her mind about her — she had a breakthrough about herself as an animal vs as a human, but still held her sanity in high regard. she was like the infected inhabitants who did not attack her, starving, acting on instinct... but she could still think. she was a monster, but not mindless.

then barry burton showed up. and remember that russian guy, dimitri, i mention? he was there too! samsa tried to fool them into thinking she was just an inhabitant (her russian wasn't sharp enough), then a scientist. but they could tell something was. VERY off about her. she proved them right when she used uroboros to save natalia-alex from an infected or something,, was taken into custody by the bsaa when they all got off the island.

i'm not entirely sure what her future holds for her at this moment but she is patient (we are waiting for resident evil 9 to be released). she has this intense curiosity about finn, much to his dismay, and spends a lot of time with the aforementioned dimitri. they have some fun parallels (her, nonhuman taught to be human; him, human taught to be nonhuman).

there's also me attempting to adapt an asoiaf oc to resident evil (who is finn's SON), who would have been created in a similar way to samsa, only instead somehow ... sold as an embryo to mother miranda ... and infected with the mold ... ? i'm not entirely sure yet but he's a ghostly boy who has haunting visions of the past and future and can possess humans and animals alike. could be fun as an addition to the lords. so desperate for attention and love, latching on to miranda... but he's not as 'gross' as moreau so she's like. damn. alright. i guess you can do some grunt work around my lab and keep an eye on the villagers for me.

if taken in by the bsaa post village, would probably end up manipulated by his half-sister like in asoiaf all the same. it's fine though. he's happy as long as he's being afforded attention in some way or another.

anywaysss that's it!! thank you for letting me yap... i need to think about my re girlies more because i just love them so much...

hello everyone im a curious little fella today, and today i want to see you all yap about your resident evil ocs. give me the LORE!!! give me the DESCRIPTIONS!!!! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!!! i love hearing abt peoples ocs and i am an oc x canon enthusiast. go nuts, i will listen to every detail :3

[alltheseredroses]

your pirate oc is so cool! can we ask questions about her? whose crew was she under? how was her first meeting w izzy like?

Oh my god thank you absolutely!!!!

Her and Izzy have a bit of a past actually! As a very young kid a kind pirate took her under his wing, resulting in her becoming first mate/quartermaster in her early twenties. Now being that young, and also a woman means she wasn’t exactly respected as much as she should have been.

This disrespect also applies to Ed, who had a bit of an alliance with Eliza’s captain. (Whose name I have made Mad Eye) Mad Eye and Blackbeard had meetings every few months to ensure everything was going well, and of course first mates need to come with. (Loyalty to your captain and all that jazz)

Ed can be quite reckless and even rude, part of his image, but this recklessness resulted in an incident which led Eliza to get her eyebrow scar. Ed, having drunk a few too much, threw a broken bottle in Eliza’s face. It was technically an accident, but Ed of course made it seem like it wasn’t or whatever.

Rushing to a safer place to assess the damage -after getting permission from her (kind of worried) captain- she has a bit of a breakdown. People have been treating her like shit and now Blackbeard himself has made her bleed. And who else than the great Izzy Hands would come in to mock her some more?

Except, he doesn’t mock her. He tells her that she has to push through, and that she needs to keep fighting for her captain. (Loyalty to your captain above all). In less nicer words and more à la Izzy. They form a strange companionship after that, only to lose contact after Mad Eye and Blackbeard go their own way.

Eliza’s ship burns down years later, and after being stuck on a little uninhabited island for weeks she goes out in search for her captain and former crew. Needing to know if anyone is still out there. She gets off the island via a merchant ship, and goes from ship to ship in search of information.

A confrontation with a power hungry captain gets her thrown in the hold, when the ship gets raided by none other than Blackbeard himself.

So yeah, this is much longer than it should be but TLDR Eliza and Izzy have known each other for like 20 years when she becomes part of the Kraken crew.

I’m making a comic about their “reunion” that will be finished in a few weeks after my finals are done!

As for my modern au, I’m also writing a bunch of fics in a series on my ao3, if that could interest you! (Same username as my tumblr/ instagram!)

[senditcolton]

for the soft asks: 1, 3, 7, 19, 23! - @tkachvkmatthew 🫶

hey Kat!! thanks for the ask! i hope you're doing well!! (and also, the fics you've published so far? obsessed!!)

1: what song makes you feel better?

this is kind of a cop out because i'm currently listening to it but "Damage Gets Done" by Hozier is so sunshine-y that I can't help but smile at it. i also just love the message it has - "being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done"

3: what's your favorite candle scent?

i love really any fruit scent - berries, apples, peaches, orange, etc. but i can't pass up a good vanilla!

7: what color brings you peace?

green (is anyone doing it like she is? every shade is a hit!)

19: most important thing in your life?

not a physical thing but simply the fact that i get to live it. i try to remind myself that i am very lucky to simply exist and that existing is enough, regardless of what others/society think.

23: favorite piece of clothing?

i have an oversized brown sweatshirt that i practically live in when i'm relaxing. the hems around the cuffs are slightly unraveling but i think that juts adds to the character of it.

soft asks to get to know people!!

[reader-no-danna]

characters: genos, zombieman, metal bat, amai mask

synopsis: headcanons for the characters stated above in a relationship with an s-class!reader

fandom: one punch man

warnings: none!

a/n: my first writing post 🤩 i love the s-class heroes so much so i decided to write some headcanons for them with a reader who’s also s-class! i may make a part two with flashy flash, fubuki, etc. hope you like it!

genos

at first, genos is indifferent to your presence among the s-class. he’s already prioritized his training and spending as much time as possible with saitama

i don’t even think he’d be aware you’d joined until it was announced at another meeting

he’s veryy curious to know about your abilities and how you shot through the ranks so quickly. but i think he’d keep his distance for a while

assuming reader is around his age, genos would be low-key shy around them. he just can’t bring himself to approach you first. this poor boy-

so at first he sticks to keeping things ✨professional✨ when he hears about a successful mission you were on, you’d get the occasional “i heard you did well against the enemy. well done, y/n” and a little awkward nod of his head

but you’d soon catch on him. when you gave reports at the hero summons, he would ALWAYS pay attention. like watch-dog man could be going on about how city-q is burning to the ground and you’d be like “well everythings fine over here-” and his head would shoot up-

silent fuming if tatsumaki scolds you or anyone interrupts you

and he’d make trips to whatever city you were placed in charge of and ask if you needed any help. he knows you can take care of yourself, he’s just looking for an excuse to talk to you

one day you saw him with saitama and the gang and you started hanging around them and that was it-

you all would be going on a lot of outings together, trying to ignore all the people gaping at you

he definitely finds time to steal you away from the others. he could never grow tired of saitama but fubuki would probably have loads of questions for you so he may excuse himself from the group for a bit and take you with him

the two of you fight sooo well together. you’re often assigned to handle monsters as a team because of how well you work with each other

you’re always with him if his parts get damaged during a fight. scolding him and telling him to be more careful, he’s getting too reckless these days

and genos’ fans take a particular liking to you... if your relationship is public then please believe the fan pages are goin wild

genos doesn’t care about all that, but he’ll quickly jump your defense if people start spreading false rumors about you and your relationship

he loves you and you’ll know it everyday 😌

zombieman

yet another stern man

he is also quite curious as to how you managed to make s-class.

because you either got in right away after the entrance exam, like genos, or you somehow managed to surpass amai mask. either way, he already has some degree of respect for you.

he seems like a bit of a loner, so i imagine the two of you would have to be assigned to a task or mission of some sort together to start communicating.

one thing i like feel he’d admire in an s/o is their strength, so he would be looking respectfully if you two were fighting together.

very observant. he’s looking for your fighting style, what attacks you normally use, and how he can help with his abilities.

he cannot stand heroes who’re only in the profession for the publicity. amai mask already annoys him- so that being said he’s very appreciative to see you actually saving people and being compassionate and not just smiling for the camera while leveling a boulder or sum-

in fact, he probably started to develop some sort of feelings after watching you save someone. maybe it was a child you had helped reunite with their parents after their town was wrecked.

you bring the kid over to their parents, and when you turn over to zombieman he was smiling for a split second before reverting back to that slight frown.

it can be slightly unnerving watching him fight, with his regenerative abilities and all that. you know he’ll recover from any injury but it still concerns you when he gets hurt.

he always reassures you, it’s not a big deal, he’s more than used to it by now. the last thing he wants is to scare you, so catch him actually looking out for his safety and trying to limit the damage done to him for you.

if you get hurt somehow, he’s by your side in an instant. your safety is top priority

he’ll blame himself for your injury, you gotta reassure him for him to feel better, and even that would take a lot of convincing

he’s glad to have you in the s-class, it was getting a little insufferable over there-

badd/ metal bat

remember when he had no idea who madame shibabawa was?? yeah this man does not pay attention during hero meetings 😭 he also was not aware you had joined s-class even though he definitely should’ve been told at that point.

another meeting was called and he’s sitting down in his usual spot, he turns around to see you there like ”😀”

he watches as you calmly give a report on recent sightings of monsters and other matters, like where?? did you come from???

he’s got a pretty boisterous attitude, and he’s very assertive and loud when you first meet him. i feel as though his rashness would be even worse if he thought he had feelings for someone

easily flustered, and it’s obvious too. you offer to come with him for a threat-level demon mission and he’s going on about how he doesn’t need the help of a “newbie” and how he can handle himself just fine. of course you have faith in him, he’s VERY strong but it’s fun to mess with him, and he’ll know when you’re doing it

eventually you decide to tag along with him on an assignment, and surprise, surprise, you hear no complaints from him

you two are a force of NATURE in a fight. his stamina and strength is boundless, and you’re also very impressive with your abilities.

you know those scenes in the manga where he’s in the middle of a fight, his shirt torn, hair all ruffled and in his face, and he’s got bloodstains on him? yeah you’re getting a full view of that on the regular 🥵

fights always end with you two walking away together, he’s swinging his bat and talking about the thrill and how much he enjoyed a good fight. he’ll also be slightly embarrassed to add “you weren’t so bad yourself, you know” and his face will be red but not from the exhaustion-

his sister zenko will become a big fan of you now that you’re s-class! he may even ask if you can give her your autograph and talk to her. he’d be so embarrassed but trying to hide it-

doesn’t know what to do with his hands so he just stuffs them in his pocket. also he avoids eye contact with you too. it’s too cute

“y/n, look, i don’t mean to bother ya, but my lil sis, she’s a huge fan and she'd really like to meet you so if you had the time that would be great. thanks.”

pleasee be nice to this mans sister 😤 i headcanon that he wouldn’t date anyone if zenko didn’t like them

after you meet zenko, congratulations- you have unlocked his soft side 🥰 you’ll find he's a real gentleman

if you’re talking during an s-class meeting and someone interrupts you- this man will NOT care who-

“oi! didn’t you hear y/n speaking just now? shut up or i’ll thrash you!”

in conclusion: badd >>> and his heart is yours 🥰

amai mask

this little prick right here

he wouldn’t be as upset if you went straight to s-class after the hero entrance exam like genos did. but if you actually climbed through the ranks?? and surpassed him??

he would’ve had to be a-class rank t-t-two for a bit 🤢🤮 like hurry up and move to s-class already, it’s killing him

despite being upset about it, he’s also quite impressed. the reason he refuses to move to s-class despite being more than capable is because he wouldn’t allow anyone he deemed unworthy to pass. you had to be very strong, and he begrudgingly had some sort of respect for you because of it

he also respects just people. a hero has to be beautiful, in both appearance and personality. so if you’re a good person then he’ll actually get along with you

make no mistake, he cares about his public image. so when he sees you, a young and stunning hero who made their debut in the highly esteemed s-class? he’d definitely see that as an opportunity grow his fan base

purposely greeting and talking to you frequently in public. and then acting surprised and bashful when being questioned about it by the media

it wouldn’t be long before the tabloids started rolling out with your names on the headlines, with people talking up your relationship

whether or not you’d be upset with it is up to you

if you don’t mind the gossip, amai mask would be muchh bolder with you in public. giving you those wry smiles that would make any other fan melt and openly flirting with you. the two of you may even be invited as guests on one of those talk shows he’s seen on

if the publicity is too much for you, he’d actually shut down the rumors immediately. “y/n is a wonderful addition to the s-class, and i’m looking forward to watching them grow. but their just an acquaintance… nothing more.”

why do i actually want to write a fic about amai mask and reader playing up their relationship in public now

buttt that’s actually not true because he’s starting to catch FEELINGS

he doesn’t like most of the s-class but you’re the exception

he’s a busy man but expect him checking up with you as much as possible to make sure you’re doing alright

after a particular stressful mission, he’ll book a reservation for you two at the best restaurant in the city! perks of being a star...

he’ll tell you all about his upcoming projects, but he’ll also listen very attentively as you talk about the s-class! he may even make fun of some of them just to get you to laugh

very attentive boyfriend and much nicer to you than he is to anyone else, s-class or not!

[t-lostinworlds]

Wish You Didn’t (Peter Parker)

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

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

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

"Ugh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's it about?" he asked.

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

"Spider-Man: Friend or Foe."

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

He didn't tell you.

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

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

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

And most importantly, Peter just wanted to protect you.

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

"I got picked to defend him."

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

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

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

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

"Such as?"

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

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

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

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

Peter's heart grew warm at the gesture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too late to back out now, Parker.

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

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

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

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

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

"And you're giving me it?"

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

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

"Where are you going?" Peter asked bemusedly.

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

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

"Just send—"

Sssh!

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

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

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

It was enough, for your sake.

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

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

"Shit."

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

***

"Heard you were looking for me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't know where to actually begin.

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

Spider-Man was making you nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, yeah, figured."

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, I trust you with it."

You smiled.

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

It makes you feel good about yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I-I'm, uh, I didn't—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," Peter hummed with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

"Spider sense?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you mean?

"That I feel safe around you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Touché."

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

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

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

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

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

"How so?"

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

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

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

"Thanks. I try my best."

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

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

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

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

Shit.

Peter you fucking idiot. You absolute dumbass—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

Peter jumped.

You screamed.

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

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

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

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

That's when you let out a gleeful laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

He gulped.

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

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

Did you figure it out?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But tonight feels a little different.

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

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

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

Just say it out loud, tell her.

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

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

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

The swing back to your apartment building took no time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

"Hello there."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was wrong? Where were you going?

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

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

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

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

***

"Hi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter frowned. "What's up?"

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

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

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

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

"Hit me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sort of?" Peter scrunched his nose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter's heart sunk.

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

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

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

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

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

Peter stared at you in shock.

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

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

You were talking about him, Peter Parker.

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

You love him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were gone.

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

It's not safe for you to love me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't understand—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Better him in pain than you, always.

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

"Y/N—"

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

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

"Goodbye, Peter."

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

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

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

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

For your sake.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ahem."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Want to talk about it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm just trying to protect them."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"See you later, Peter Parker."

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! tell me your thoughts! <3

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[webslingingz]

On the Same Side (Peter Parker x Reader)

Yooooo I rewrote this old fic I wrote in like 2017? ish? I also wrote this on my phone so if it’s a bit weirdly formatted i’m sorry 😢   I thought it’s better than leaving you guys out for dry between larger requests, so I hope you enjoy even if you read the old fic!! (It used to be called Professional and I’m pretty sure you can still probably find it on my blog if you look hard enough but please do not do that because it is ass I promise you) I kind of left this open-eded so if you want a part 2 lmk and i will CONSIDER it........

Also, I changed the readers pronouns from she/her to be gender neutral in this ! :) 

Title: On the Same Side Genre: No idea. Hurt/comfort? Fluff?  Word count: 1.8k Warnings: graphic injury description, swearing, mentions of death (reader be killing people sometimes), mentions of AP Biology (I am so so sorry) Synopsis: It’s reckless and stupid and something Peter knows he’s gonna be reprimanded for when - if - he gets back to Stark, but the young hero acts on instinct and, in a flashing moment, he’s swinging unabashedly in front of a bullet you’d intended for the target below you and tumbling unceremoniously into the concrete of the roof with you - one of New York’s most infamous Anti-Heroes - under him. 

Peter Parker was brilliant.

Such a fact was well-known around Midtown; he earned high grades, studied hard, and was highly involved in the Stem subjects around the school. It would be quite obvious to even those who hadn’t known him for more than a few moments. 

However, what would be obvious was his intense lack of grip on the concept of thinking on his feet while minimising damage in situations more dire than isolating strawberry plant cells in the Midtown High laboratories. For example; tracking down and recruiting one of New Yorks most infamously elusive anti-heroes while she’s trying to assassinate some politician a few metres away from him.

“You see them yet?” The voice on the other end of the comm earns Peters's attention and he flinches when it does, still unaware as to how the device given to him by Happy Hogan had been so loud despite being undetectable to anyone not wearing the suit.  Peter squints. “They’re nearby, I can feel it.” He murmurs, suspicious. It was difficult, already, to seek out one specific person while attempting to swing discreetly, and even more so when the person he was looking for was known well, already, for being so discreet. 

Then, he caught a glimpse of you. You were perched on a rooftop, reloading a rifle with the ease of someone who’d done it thousands of times before. Peter doesn’t doubt that you had, but narrowing his eyes at you reveals a sudden unexpected twist Peter wasn’t prepared to deal with. 

“Um, Mr. Stark? They’re, like, the same age as me, right? That’s-That’s insane. Or do they look, just, like, super young?” There’s a certain apprehension mixing with the initial shock in Peter's inflections, his eyebrows raising under the fabric of the mask he was quite thankful for at this moment, despite knowing that you couldn’t see how shocked he was; you couldn’t see him at all. 

Tony takes a moment to respond, likely sizing up the nature of Peters's question. 

“Yes, Wonderboy. That’s why we want to recruit them and not get them locked up. If you’re thinking of wooing our target-“  “I’m not! It’s just…I don’t know, it’s kind of crazy that they’re doing this and I’m doing the opposite, kind of, and we…” Peter's rambling stops abruptly when the glint of silver catches his eye from his perch and he watches helplessly as you expertly begin to aim your rifle.  “Peter?” Stark was worried, now, by his sudden silence. 

Holy shit. 

He didn’t expect this to happen so quickly. 

“They’re aiming!” He whisper-yells into the comm, his blood suddenly pumping extremely fast and his chest heaving.  He watches you squint one eye, straighten your shoulders, adjust your aim as the target moves and fanfare ensues. 

Peter hadn’t heard much about the target himself, but he knew that he wasn’t actually someone Stark particularly cared about saving. It was another corrupt politician - quite anti-vigilante, ironically, - that had fallen on your radar, just like the many others you’d dealt with in your time as an anti-hero.  Peter hears Tony fumble on the other end.  “What? Now?” He’s asking more questions, but Peter Parker is far too concerned with figuring out what he should do to stop you from carrying out what you were intending to do.

It’s reckless and stupid and something Peter knows he’s gonna be reprimanded for when - if - he gets back to Stark, but the young hero acts on instinct and, in a flashing moment, he’s swinging unabashedly in front of a bullet and tumbling unceremoniously into the concrete of the roof with you under him, his sides aching as the harsh concrete scrapes through his suit.  You writhe under him for a moment, prepared for a fight, but it doesn’t take much fight at all to push him off of you. Rather, Spider-Man falls beside you with no refrain at all the moment you push his shoulder. 

Spider-Man? 

Your eyes narrow and you’re instinctively on your knee beside him, pushing him onto his back to assess the damage. The mark on his side is distinct and it screams at you when you see it; a gunshot wound punctured his skin and the suit.  You hear commotion below you and you briefly glance at the abandoned rifle to consider shooting again before he can evacuate the stage, but the pained groans of the hero under you shifts your thoughts, albeit begrudgingly, and you’re suddenly applying pressure to the wound you created. 

There’s a medkit in one of your suit pockets and you’re instinctively reaching for it before you realize it, pressing the cloth inside to the angry wound. 

“You’ll be fine. It went through. Don’t be a baby. Keep breathing.” 

You’re ambitiously trying to balance surveying the scene below for possible signs of the security finding you and comforting the writing hero beneath you, and you’re suddenly feeling a lot more remorse than you ever had in your career. You’re not sure how to comfort someone and you’re certain that the masked man can tell just that, but you’re far too concerned with just how young the vigilante sounded under that mask to consider softening your tone.  Peter didn’t care about your tone, though. He was focused on the searing pain in his side as she began to soak the cloth in acetone. He begins to writhe more and his agonising groans grow louder as you do so, and your eyes widen for just a moment. 

Stark had long since faded away into the background, but Peter could hear that he was still there. Peter panics when he sees you reach for his mask, gathering the fabric into a mass at the end of his neck and beginning to pull up. His arm comes up, weakly, to stop you and you don’t make any drastic moves to stop him; you just cease your movements.  “I won’t take it off. Just bite on this to stop the pain, yeah?” You hold up a folded cloth from the same medkit, cleaner than the one currently on his side. You don’t continue your movements until Peters's hand loosens its grip on your wrist and he nods.  “Thank you.” He manages to choke out his first words of the encounter, and you’re only slightly thrown when your suspicions of a hero your age are confirmed. You nod in response.  Peter hears more commotion from the other end of the communications. He listens as intently as he can as someone fumbles with a headset on the other end.  “Parker! Everything under control?” He can’t respond, too overwhelmed with the searing pain of acetone in his deep wound.  “Peter?” 

You can tell he’s trying to build the strength to respond but he physically cannot, his eyes scrunching shut each time he attempts.  Something eats at you and, suddenly, you’re reaching for the earpiece under the mask and slipping it on under yours.  “Spider-Man will be fine but he needs better help.” You assert, returning your hands to the wound.  “Who’s this?”  “I...hit him. He jumped in front of the bullet and I hit him in the side and it went through but he can lose a lot of blood if you don’t get him the right help. I can’t do much more than apply some pressure.” You’re revealing too much about the situation, you know you are, but you’re far too frantic to think straight because at the edge of your mind you can sense something familiar about the mouth of the hero currently biting down on the cloth you’d given to him.  “Shit…” you can hear the man on the other end shout something to someone behind him - a team, probably - as you lift the cloth for a moment to assess the damage.  Suddenly, a lot of the reasonings behind why you’d encountered Spider-Man that day began to dawn on you. Tony Stark had been trying to recruit you for months now, promising expunged records and good PR, but you’d never managed to be caught by many of the people he’d sent. Spider-Man was newly recruited, you assumed. He was someone you could relate to more, someone who could appeal to you.  With a sigh and a swallow of your ego, you begin to bargain.  “I know you probably sent him to negotiate, right? I’ll stay with him until your people get here and I’ll come back. I’ll join you. I just - please help him. I didn’t mean to hit him, I just…he just came out of nowhere.”  Tony is silent on the other end and you’re frankly kind of embarrassed that you’d been so vulnerable all of a sudden, but the guilt of having just sniped New York’s most beloved do-gooder was eating at you and blinding your sense of self-preservation. You hear him mutter something of an agreement before he’s gone and Peter is gathering his breath.  “You heard it?” His voice catches you off-guard and you jump slightly as he attempts weakly to sit up. A normal human wouldn’t be able to even move their arms yet. You don't address how eerily familiar his name was, or how, when you connected the dots, your voice catches in your throat to physically restrain itself from blurting out his name again, shocked, as the funny guy you knew well from AP Bio. “Stay down, you’re still bleeding,” You order, pressing his shoulder gently. Peter complies easily, and you’re silent for just a moment as you re-adjust the pressure. “I won’t say it to anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  Your reply is just as sudden and you don’t look at him in the eyes when you do reply, focusing instead on the reddened cloth under your gloves.  “Why?” He responds, voice cracking from use.  “We’re on the same side. We just have different ways of going about it.” You respond simply, glancing to meet his masked gaze. 

Peter was frankly quite surprised that you weren’t attempting to kill him right now but, the more he thinks about your response, the less unreasonable it becomes. You both want the same things; a cleaner New York. However, it seemed like you were more willing to kill to get it. Why would you try to kill him?  “Why would you give yourself up so quickly? Why not go?” Peter is quite talkative for a man who just got grazed by a bullet, but you chalk it up less to sheer determination and more to the mutant blood coursing through his veins. You briefly consider establishing his silence to conserve his energy, but it seems he’s not losing energy at all. Perhaps, then, it’s best to keep him talking, even if it meant divulging your personal qualms with your job to him like this.  “You don’t deserve to be hurt,” you respond. “I’d rather work alongside you than continue to hurt the good ones by avoiding your partnership. If it means you’ll live, I’ll take it.” 

Peter furrows his brows. Her explanation made sense, but there was something about her tone that lead him to believe that there was something else laced within it, too. His brain is too fogged by the pain and by the blood loss to ask about it. 

As the sound of approaching helicopters drives any other reasonable thought out of his mind, Peter Parker makes a mental note to ask you about just how familiar your voice had been when you were talking to Mr. Stark. 

[wistfulrat]

Good evening! Do you know any good enemies with benefits drarry fics? Thank you

hi anon! Y E S i love the enemies with bennys trope especially when it’s not just pure hate sex but like...reluctant confidant who im gonna engage purely out of spite?? frenemies to lovers if u will. they’re both getting something (sex, verbal sparring partner, emotional punching bag, wound healer) from the other while still having major unresolved feelings of resentment until the inevitable breaking point where they must Adress Things. anyway here’s a short list :)

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by @talithan - 58k, M

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

a remorseful draco who develops feelings after hooking up with an extremely messy and shitty harry who is dealing with his anger, hurt, abandonment issues, general trauma, etc. in the most selfish and reckless way possible. harry’s truly the Worst in this. his family (ginny, granger, weasleys) are written really well bc they 1) unconditionally love him but 2) are extremely done with his shit. on the other hand, draco will take what he can get bc he wants to be loved, cares a lot about harry, and knows he’s being mistreated but can’t bring himself to leave. they’re angsty fuck buddies for a while until inevitably, harry starts to fall in love with the draco everyone else has already accepted as a friend. u will read this and need to take several naps after but it’s worth it. mostly because it’s refreshing to read a version of harry that isn’t heroic or morally rigid but very sad and says things like “you make me want to let you take care of me” ....p a i n

Kiss The Joy (Until the Sunrise) by @icmezzo - 37k, M

The Room of Requirement was severely damaged in the war, but not so much that it could not provide for one lost student and another young hero—especially when they needed each other most of all.

it’s set immediately after the battle. they both want to hide but they’re met with the one person who will absolutely not let them rest. they hate each other. there’s hexing and shouting and sneering. but their resentment doesn’t stop them from benefiting from the other’s presence. the sentient room somehow provides an escape but also an opportunity for absolution. they talk even though they’ve nothing kind to say at first. they tend each other’s wounds even though they haven’t quite quenched their mutual bloodlust. it’s sleep-deprived, nightmare-haunted, hungry, lonely boys who grow to see that the other has what they need.

Strangeness and Charm by @drarrytrash - 45k, M

One November night during his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco ends up in the forbidden forest. That’s how it starts.

or: If two boys fall in love in a magical forest, does it still make a sound?

one of my all time favorite fics in general (and feels complementary to Kiss The Joy). it’s the surreality of insomnia, a sentient mysterious forest, a chance to talk about things plainly in the twilight zone where they can pretend they don’t hate each other in real life. it’s an atmospheric dream of a fic that’s asking two very angry boys to suspend their disbelief and consider: what would it be like if you weren’t awful to each other? (also them reading twenty thousand leagues under the sea, a book where jules verne writes about the ocean as if she were sentient, the embodiment of love and emotion?? as the forbidden forest herself orchestrates harry and draco’s love story?? shutUP intertextuality) — anyway i would die for this fic it’s perfect

IDK My BFF Hermione? by @letteredlettered - 19k, E

"Because you're common too, aren't you." Malfoy seemed insistent; it was not a question. "You're just as disgusting and vulgar as I am."

"Yes."

"We were never any different, were we."

"No," Harry said, and kissed him.

—Draco's a hot mess. Harry's lovin' it (hell yes).—

all the war kids were robbed of their childhoods so this is their delayed rebellious phase (bc revolting against the government, although metal af, doesn’t count). ur gonna try and tell harry that he Shouldn’t lust after draco’s eyeliner? hmm good luck bitch. it’s lots and lots of steamy hate sex and general recklessness but also humanizing conversations about the longing to be good, free, desirable, wanted, forgiven, respected, seen but not hypervisible, left alone but not lonely. what begins as “im using u for pleasure bc i was denied this since birth” becomes “u make me feel like im not wrong for wanting things that make me happy” —because why write pure smut when u can write weepy philosophical smut😌

[cyro-starfire]

Cyro meeting Lemon Monster for the first time - Lemcy fic

⚠️WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: OC X CANON, VIOLENCE, CUSSING, KISSING, CRINGE⚠️

Character colors

Blue - Boyfriend

Red - Girlfriend

Green - Pico

Pink - Cyro

Orange - Lemon Monster

The night was still young, the stars shine brightly throughout the night sky, the full moon also gave a brilliant light that made the night seem less dark. Pico, Girlfriend, Boyfriend, and Cyro were having as friend's night out, just the four of them. They generally used their time in the night to goof around and have fun, visiting parks, getting ice cream and just messing around with each other.

As the night grew they decided to sleep over at Pico's place for the night, Girlfriend told her parents about it so they wouldn't panic if Girlfriend didn't get home tonight. On their way to Pico's house Pico noticed the mansion that Girlfriend's parent's had owned, the same one where Bee and Gee met the spooky kids Skid and Pump.

"Ayo, Bee, ain't that the same house you met those kids in?" Pico asked Boyfriend. "Hrm?" Boyfriend looked over and noticed the house. "Oh yeah, it is, what about it?" "Well ain't it also the same house where you told me you like dissed a weird lemon headed monster thing?" Pico added. "Uhh...y-yeah...? Where are you going with this Pico?" Boyfriend asked slightly nervous of what Pico's intentions could've possibly been...

"Well, it's been a long ass time since I had a good scare, not even Cassandra's stupid ass could scare me, you said the guy was genuinely terrifying, I wanna be the judge of that shit!" Pico exclaimed. "DUDE! ARE YOU FUCKIN INSANE? THAT FUCKER WANTED TO EAT ME AND BAE!" Boyfriend responded with a shocked screech. "Dude come on, how bad can it be for me? Besides, Gee can't die remember?" Pico tried to remind Boyfriend. "But he was still fucking creepy, even for a dearest like me." Girlfriend admitted.

"For real?" Pico asked, astounded by Girlfriend of all people admitting that. "Yeah dude." "Well if that's the case, i think it's about time you introduced me to him!" Pico chuckled. "DUDE NO! ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?! PLUS WHAT IF CYRO GETS HURT?!" Girlfriend states to Pico, obviously not happy that he would want to do something this reckless and life threatening. Pico looked at Cyro and felt bad that he almost forgot that they were there..."Well...you guys know I'll shoot up anything hostile." He responds bluntly. "Come on, it'll be worth it, i wanna meet this fucker" Girlfriend and Boyfriend looked at each other and then looked at Cyro for their input.

"o-o-oh uhm..." Cyro was taken aback by the situation being suddenly focused around them. "Do you think you'll be able to handle this shit Cy?" Boyfriend asks the alien in a gentle tone, as to not put more stress on Cy. "w-w-well i-i m-m-mean uh...i-i guess it sh-shouldn't b-be too b-bad if P-Pico is the o-one protecting us..." They replied quietly but not too quiet to where Bee and Gee couldn't hear. "You sure?" "I-I'm p-positive! P-Please don't w-worry about m-me too m-much!" Cyro reassures the two. Bee and Gee look at Cyro for a while and sighed. "Alright just...stay close to us alright?" Cyro nods in response.

Girlfriend finally responded to Pico "Okay, fine we'll go in again..." Pico cheered. "HELL YEAH! LES FUCKING GO!!!" Pico screamed out in joy as he immediately darted towards the mansion and wasted no time to get in, the other three followed but not as enthusiastic as Pico, they were more reluctant if anything, especially Girlfriend...

The inside of the mansion felt as dead and haunted as the first time Girlfriend and Boyfriend went inside it together for the first time. "I still hate looking at the inside of this hellscape babe..." Boyfriend shuddered. "Me too honey bun..." "Awe come on you guys are pussies!" Pico giggled. "EASY FOR YOU TO SAY MAN, YOU FUCKING KILLED A HUGE ASS ALIEN WHEN WE WERE IN FUCKING SCHOOL!" Boyfriend screeched at Pico in anger only making Pico laugh more. Cyro was shaking like a leaf, clinging tightly onto Girlfriend's red dress. "Y-You okay Cy?" Girlfriend asked, worried about the shivering alien. "i-i-i-i-i'm g-g-g-good..." Cyro whimpered silently.

"Okay this was obviously a bad idea, I'm pretty sure this place alone is gonna make Cy have a huge panic attack.." Boyfriend sighed but was cut off by Cyro. "N-N-NO! I-i-i-i-i'm okay, i-i promise...i-i-it's j-j-j-just c-c-cold here..." "You sure Cy?" Pico asked, concerned as well. "Y-Yeah...t-trust me g-guys i-i'm fine!" The alien tried their best to reassure the three, which only resulting in Pico, Bee and Gee sighing in unison, they couldn't just back out on this so quickly...right...?

After some time of exploring the mansion, it did take some time for Pico to get genuinely spooked by the place... "Wow...y'all weren't fuckin around..." He chuckled nervously. "This place is creepy as fuck...why do your parents even own this place to begin with Gee?" Girlfriend shrugged "I don't know man, sometimes they don't even make sense to me..." She responds. "Wait, so you admit your scared then?" Boyfriend asks with a slight giggle.

"WH-WHAT?! N-NO?! I AIN'T FUCKIN SCARED BEE!!" "Ya sure Pico?" Boyfriend giggled even more. "Your sure acting like your scared!" "THERE'S A FUCKIN DIFFERENCE WITH BEING SCARED AND BEING CREEPED OUT YOU FUCK NUT, GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK ASS HEAD!" "Okay but your stuttering, your clearly pissing yourself dude." "NO I FUCKIN AIN'T!" "Yeah you are!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" Pico screamed. And thus, an argument began with the two boys, Girlfriend sighed. Some things never really do change, do they? Cyro looked away from the arguing boys only to be met with an odd looking shadow in the distance. "h-h-h-huh?"

"g-g-guys...?" Cyro tried to get everyone's attention but they couldn't be heard over Boyfriend and Pico so they had to try again "G-Guys?" Still not being heard over, so Cyro took a deep breath and reluctantly scream to get their attention. "GUYS!" With them finally being heard all three of them turned their heads to look at the quivering alien. "Is something wrong Cy?"

"u-uh y-yeah, WHAT TH-THE FUCK IS THAT?!" The alien screeched in terror pointing at the lemon shaped shadow that was hiding behind a door. "What's wh- oh...oh no..." "B-B-Bee...?" "What the fu..." The shadow suddenly had a visible smile and finally spoke. "Well, well, well~ what do we have here~? A three course meal~? How thoughtful of you all~!" The voice was deep, soothing, and mesmerizing. The creature slowly opened the door and stepped out.

As seen through the shadow it had a yellow, lemon shaped head, it's eyes were huge with wide pupils within them, it's teeth were uncomfortably crooked, it's neck was a velvet red and the rest of it's body was a pitch, raven black, it had two fingers on each hand, and it had only two toes on each foot. The creature was very tall in compared to the four other beings within the room, it towered over all of them.

"It has been quite a long while since i have seen you two~! And i see you've brought that little schizophrenic ginger friend of yours~! And-" the monster paused to look at Cyro behind Girlfriend, still scared out of their mind. "Well now~! Who's this little friend of yours~? They look rather...appetizing~ in more ways then one if i must be so bold to say~!" He said, attempting to slowly approach Cy but was stopped by Girlfriend. "Don't go near them...O R E L S E . . ." She warned it with a growl, which only made the lemon headed monster roll its eyes in annoyance. "And you still don't know how to not be so RUDE..." The monster growled.

"Better not try jack shit bitch, i know how to use this thing." Pico aimed the gun towards the monster which only made it boom with laughter. "You think a puny little weapon like that scares me? How adorable~!" It chuckled before lunging at Girlfriend and attacked her which made Pico start firing bullets at the creature, and Cy ran as fast as they could into an empty hallway. Boyfriend stood still, he didn't wanna engage in the violence, he didn't sign up for this shit man...

After the monster and Girlfriend fought, monster while doing a number on Girlfriend decided that enough damage was done and went after Cyro. Pico and Boyfriend, instead of knowing Girlfriend can easily heal, and going after the monster and making sure he doesn't hurt them, went to Girlfriend to see if she was okay, Cyro was sobbing and whimpering while running, wanting to be home right now and not here.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!!! I KNEW THIS WAS A BAD IDEA WHY DID I TRY TO LOOK BRAVE FOR EVERYONE HHHH!!!!" The alien screamed internally and wished that they were just honest so that none of this would be happening right now, after some running they found themself in a dead end, and what was worse is that they could hear the monster's footsteps. "NONONONONONONONONONO PLEASE PLEASE OH PLEASE I DON'T WANNA DIE, WHY ME, WHY ME. WHY ME!!!" As much as they hated themself, but they were still terrified of dying, especially like this...

The monster got closer and closer until he was visible again which only heightened Cyro's anxiety, their heart was pounding through their chest and their breathing was rapid, they could barley think straight at all. "There you are my dear~!" The monster cooed. "p-p-p-please leave m-m-me alone..." They whimpered quietly. "Oh don't worry dear~! I won't kill you~! Will i possibly hurt you? Maybe, but then again..." He got closer to them and pinned them against the wall, he slowly put his two fingered claws against their face, and caressed their face gently.

"I would feel guilty if i caused any sort of harm to an adorable and beautiful creature such as yourself~!" It whispered in their ear making Cyro blush deeply and shudder they were so confused by this behavior. "You know, i normally don't have such feelings for prey...but you...your different..." The monster explained to Cyro. "wh-what d-do you m-mean...?" "I mean what i mean my sweet cherry cake~! Your seem like such a delicate creature~!" The monster slowly moved it's claws under Cyro's chin and began to rub the bottom of their chin gently. Cyro couldn't help but purr at the sensation.

The monster chuckled at Cyro's purring, they were so adorable. "Perhaps i won't eat you~ your so sweet, I'm afraid that if I eat you, I'll get a cavity~!" The monster joked. Cyro didn't respond, they only continued to purr at the monster rubbing their chin, until he took his claw away from their chin which only made them whine. "wh-why'd y-you st-" they were interrupted by the monster giving them a soft and gentle kiss on the lips, which surprised Cyro at first, but they slowly sunk into the kiss and kissed the monster back. There was some time before they broke away from the kiss, Cyro panted softly while looking at the creature

The monster chuckled. "While i would love to keep you, i fear that i have aggravated your friends enough, so unfortunately this will be goodbye for now, but i will be back soon, my little prey, until we meet again~!" The monster whispered to them beore giving them a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the shadows again. Which only left Cyro in confusion but at the same time, they felt like they've fallen in love again.

After some time Pico, Boyfriend and Girlfriend found Cy, fortunately for them Cyro was okay, and the four of them darted out of the house as soon as fucking possible. Cyro never really forgot about that day ever since...

[red-jaebyrd]

Another Person, Another Promise

The concept for this fic was inspired by this lovely piece of art by @drawing-cookie.

Whumptober #5 Rescued

Batman had told him to stay, that it wouldn’t be too much longer; that he’d find a way to get him out of the boys’ detention center and find him a home. For the first few weeks, Dick held onto to the hope of those words like a lifeline until the promise of escape fell away like water through cupped hands. After a month those words were nothing but useless platitudes said to him to keep him from asking further questions about his parents’ murder.

He wouldn’t listen to Batman anymore no matter how scary the man appeared to be. This place was poison. He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t a criminal. He was just a boy who no longer had parents. Perhaps the cops thought they were doing him a favor; a pre-emptive strike bypassing a foster home and instead sending him strait to jail. Social Services in Gotham City was seriously messed up.

Dick had been at the boys detention center for a month and it was already the longest month of his life. Every day was a lesson in finding new hiding places so he wouldn’t get his butt kicked. No one cared that he didn’t do anything to start the fight. No one cared that he didn’t belong here with young criminals. All that mattered to them was that he was “fresh meat” and needed to know the rules and the “lay of the land”.

There was a twisted hierarchy that existed at these centers. Dick postulated that it didn’t really matter who was the biggest in size (though it helped), what mattered was who had the seniority.

Dick had gotten jumped on his first night at the detention center. “The welcome wagon” had been five boys that came into his room at lights out. They had told him if he knew what was good for him – he’d keep his mouth shut. This wasn’t a problem, who was he going to tell? The guards didn’t care. The cops that had come to question him about his parents’ murder didn’t bat an eye at his busted lip or the way draped his arm over his bruised ribs.

After the first two weeks Dick started to get a bit braver. He embraced the anger and started to fight back. Not enough to cause any damage, but enough to send a message that he wasn’t anyone’s punching bag. He used these fights as an outlet to let out the anger he had felt at being ignored by Batman. The man hadn’t come to see him since his first night at the Center.

This newfound bravery of course backfired and now the beatings increased with more frequency. The anger soon started to drift into depression and indifference.

At his one month anniversary of being at The Center, Dick got a visitor. The Batman had come to see him. Under different circumstances he’d be happy with the visit, but truthfully Dick was tired. He was tired of the lies and promises that came with every adult visitor.

Dick didn’t smile, make eye contact or say a word to the towering man standing in front of him in the small visitors’ room.

“What happened to your eye?”

“I fell,” he answered. “Any leads?”

“Some. The progress is still slow.”

“Right…so…why are you here?”

“I just wanted to check on you.”

Dick nodded. He wanted to ask Batman when he could leave and go home or go back to the circus, but it was pointless. No one seemed to know how much longer he still had to be at The Center, so he stopped asking. Every time he had asked, it was the same answer, ‘Not much longer. I promise’. It was the promise that stung the most, because a month had passed, and he was still here in this hell hole getting beat up every night at lights out.

“Are we done?” Dick asked.

Batman nodded. “You won’t be here long. I promise.”

There it was, the empty promise to ring in a new month in Hell. It was exactly what Officer Bullock had said, and later Commissioner Gordon and now Batman. Another person, another promise – this time from a guy in a mask.

“Whatever,” Dick sighed.

---

The meeting with Batman only made Dick more depressed. He lay in his bunk pressed up against the wall hoping the shadows would swallow him. He had reached the point where he had stopped caring about anyone rescuing him. He had no one in his corner. No one was fighting for him. There was no one else in his life anymore that he could depend on for safety, reassurance, or love. The only people he had in his life were he parents and they had been taken from him. God, he missed his parents.

He missed their touch, the pressure of their hugs, and the proximity of their existence in his life. The weight of their absence pressed on his chest until he could no longer breathe. He fought hard to push down the lump in his throat, but it was no use. He finally let out the sobs he had been holding in for a month. A month had passed and he hadn’t even allowed himself to mourn them.

He still had nightmares of the night they had died. He could still hear the rope snap, smell the metallic scent of blood, and see the look of horror on his mom’s face as she fell.

Dick pulled himself further into the shadows of his bunk, allowing himself the space to cry. He hugged his pillow tightly to his chest just for the pressure in the hopes that it would help calm him down. No comfort came from hugging the pillow, but it did help muffle the sound.

This place was slowly suffocating the life out of him. If Bullock, Gordon or Batman weren’t going to get him out of here, he had to do it himself. He couldn’t wait to make a thorough escape plan. It had to be tonight.

Ultimately this plan was dumb and impulsive. But Dick had reached a reckless desperation that planning would take too long.  He knew where all the great hiding places were as he had honed this skill over the last month to avoid fights with the older boys.

He stuck to the shadows using the darkness to sneak through the halls using his agility as an acrobat to his advantage. Dick’s goal was to make it to the basement laundry room. There was a window high up on the wall that lead to the street level. No one without acrobatic experience would be able to reach it. It was an easy climb to maneuver. He planned the jumps in his head many times when he was assigned to the laundry room.

Dick’s biggest hurdle was getting passed the guards’ station. He took his shoes and socks off to avoid them squeaking on the tile and giving him away. He knotted the laces of both shoes to keep them together and placed them around his neck to free up his hands. Waiting behind a wall he watched as the three guards leave the station to walk the halls. Luckily the laundry room was in the opposite direction. Dick wasted no time heading straight over there.

The door was never locked, but it was sticky. It squeaked something terrible as he opened it but Dick was careful not to let it slam shut behind him. Dick wasted no time making his way down the stairs into the laundry room. The Warden had purposely not placed any machines under the window should any of the boys use it as a boost to sneak out. Dick didn’t need anything under the window to make it. He climbed onto the nearest machine and jumped.

Just as his hands made contact with the windows ledge, he heard the door squeak open and the sound of jingling keys as someone descended the stairs.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Dick scrambled to get the window open with one hand. He could hear the heavy footfalls of the guard approaching. It was at this moment that he thanked the universe for making him a very short and agile 12 year old. The guard couldn’t reach his legs, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

The handle on the window was hard to pull up. Especially since Dick could only use his one hand. He knew the window opened. He’d seen it opened during the day when the dryers were on. His sweaty hand was making it more and more difficult to grip the handle, but he wasn’t giving up. He was so close to getting out of here. He couldn’t give up now.

Dick tried not to get distracted by the scraping sound of a ladder below him. He continued to pull up with all his might on the handle. Finally, the handle budged and he pushed open the window feeling the cool Gotham air in his face. His victory was short-lived as he then felt his body jerk down as the guard grabbed his ankle.

“You’re not going anywhere, you little shit.”

Dick tried to shake out the grip on his ankle while still holding onto the ledge of the window.

“Get off!”

Dick kicked out and made contact with the guard’s face. The guard lost his balance and so did he. The ladder clattered to the ground, and Dick struggled to find purchase on the window ledge with arms. He had the upper body strength to hoist himself up but the exertion used to open the window and fight off the guard exhausted his muscles. Tears started to swim in his eyes. It wasn’t looking like he was getting out of here.

His biceps were straining to hold him upright on the window ledge. His toes anchoring him on the wall were getting sore. The ankle the guard yanked throbbed along with his rapid heartbeat. He could hear thunderous sounds of more guards coming into the laundry room. He was so screwed.

Dick took a breath and proceeded to hoist himself upward. His muscles shook horribly at the effort.

“Here, I got you,” a gravelly voice said from outside the window. Hands suddenly grabbed Dick under his arms and helped pull him out of the window.

Dick allowed the help once he registered that the voice belonged to Batman. He only had a moment to collect his bearings before three guards surrounded them outside; including the one Dick had kicked off the ladder.

“We’ll take it from here,” The guard said, reaching out a hand to grab Dick.

Dick scuttled away and stood behind Batman, using him as a shield between him and the guards.

“Please, Batman, don’t let them take me,” Dick whispered. He was on the verge of tears now as the adrenaline slowly started to seep out of his body. “I can’t go back there. Please, you promised.”

He looked up in time to see Batman looking at him and giving him a small nod of the head before returning his attention back to the lead guard.

“I don’t think so, the boy coming with me,” Batman growled.

“Under whose authority?”

“The Division of Child Protection and Permanency. All the necessary paperwork is on the Warden’s desk. Richard John Grayson is now a ward of Bruce Wayne.”

Dick’s head snapped up at the name Bruce Wayne, the billionaire wanted him to be his ward? This had to be a joke. He didn’t trust the information. Why would Bruce Wayne want to help him anyway?

The guard looked like a fish out of water struggling for words that were not coming.

“We’re done here,” Batman said. “Dick, get into the car.”

Dick did what he was told and got into the sleek black car that was parked near where he had climbed out of the window. He wasn’t sure that he trusted Batman yet. He wanted to believe that Batman had his best interests. He wanted to trust that Batman was telling the truth and was sending him somewhere safe.

Dick tried to brace himself for eventual bad news, because living with Bruce Wayne was just too good to be true. There had to be a catch somewhere. There was always a catch to something. He never used to be this cynical when his parents were alive, but their death changed him in ways that even he never saw coming.

They drove a little ways before Dick was brave enough to ask his question.

“Is it true, about my paperwork?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t lying…about Bruce Wayne wanting to take me in permanently?”

“No.”

In only a month he saw the worst in people, mostly kids around his own age, but also adults. Some adults meant well, but none of them kept their word. They easily made promises but constantly broke them.

“What’s the catch?”

“No, catch. I pro –,”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Batman.”

Batman kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel. He pushed a button that must have been an auto pilot feature, because the car started driving itself. He slipped his cowl off and turned to look at Dick.

Dick immediately recognized the face.

“Whoa, you’re Bruce Wayne.”

“We’re going home, my home. I promise you, Dick, no more surprises. No more secrets.”

Dick just stared at him trying to find his words. He had so many things to say to that statement. None of them were good; most of them were offensive and started with an ‘f’.

“Will you let me help you with the investigation into my parents’ murder? Tell me all the leads you have so far on their case. Leave nothing out?”

Bruce sighed. “I promise to tell you everything of relevance. But if it starts to be too much for you, and leads to negative change in your behavior, I’m restricting your access. Deal?”

Dick thought over the terms and found them agreeable.

“Deal.”

The car rushed through a waterfall leading further into a dark tunnel. The car stopped and spun lifting on hydraulics as it settled into an elaborate underground lair.

“Welcome home to the Cave.”

“It’s a BatCave,” Dick corrected.

“Follow Alfred, he will show you to your room upstairs.”

“There’s more?” Dick asked.

“Much more, young sir. I shall give you the grand tour, but first let’s get you something to eat.”

Dick was in awe of his surroundings. He just became the ward of Bruce Wayne, who was also Batman. Batman was still on the case looking into his parents’ murder. He was no longer staying at a detention center and constantly worrying about getting beat up. He was home.

“Mr. Wayne,” Dick called.

“Yes, call me Bruce.”

Dick ran full tilt toward his new guardian and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Thank you, Bruce, for getting me out and bringing me here.”

“You got yourself out, Chum.” Bruce said, returning the hug. “I just pulled you out of the window.”

[theredquill]

in between the first and second acts of butchered tongue

robb: dead.

theon: enduring reekfication

marysa: joining a band of musicians, being in denial, living her best bard life, is declared dead, changed her name

[a-libra-writes]

Unexpected - Tywin x Reader

Hey yall! Im really sick with a cold, so I haven’t been able to get to the Imagines +Alphabets Instead I’ll post this requested fic, and I’ve got two more fics in the queue for the next few days while I recover.

This wasn’t exactly as requested, but I really enjoyed writing it! 

Incoming: Fighter!Reader and Tywin having their meet cute and bond over being sick of other people’s shit. 

Every inch of her body protested as she untied the dirty shirt and slipped it down to her arms. A squire had helped her out of her armor and padded gambeson, and she put on a strong face for that, but upon reaching the maester’s tent she nearly collapsed.

There were voices and scattered chaos outside, but she held her dizzying head and tried to focus on the maester’s instructions. Her strong facade finally fell when he gently pressed his fingers to the ugly black and purple bruises forming on her chest. 

“Not broken,” The haggard man said. He looked as worn as the men she saw leaving his tent. 

She hissed and cursed, but had no energy left to flinch away. Thank the gods, she assumed the worst when that blow knocked out all the wind she had in her lungs and toppled her backwards. Damned Northmen. She threw herself to her feet soon enough, but the pain wrenched a scream from her everytime she cut through a foe.

The maester began cleaning a more pressing wound on her arm. It wasn’t her dominant hand, another stroke of luck. 

The gods give and take, she thought bitterly. The cut on her arm did not trouble her near as much, nor did the slice on her leg. She carelessly tore her breeches for the maester so he could wrap it. Her modesty wasn’t even crossing her mind.

Instead, she asked the maester, “Have you tended to my lord father, or seen him? He is of House Lydden, our standard has the badger.”

The maester’s weary eyes only looked up from his work for a moment. “I have not, my lady. House Lydden is not amongst my patients.”

The bitterness and anxiety began to creep up her stomach, touching at her throat, becoming an uncomfortable bile. Of course not. She was the one who broke formation, who left her father and their knights. 

I thought the old man could handle himself. I would only be gone a few minutes, then I’d return to him -- stupid, reckless girl --

She could still see the way her father’s arm snapped backwards, as if he were in front of her again. She still heard his scream echoing through his helmet, and the way his strong body crumpled back. She was able to lunge forward, fight off his attacker, but the real fight was leaving his side. She couldn’t stay and help him, cry over him, hold him. She had to keep moving, it’s what he always told her. 

He would teach her the sword, her lord father said, but she had to learn to be hard. Soft hands and soft hearts made for softer blows.

The maester must have noticed her stormy thoughts. The fatigue on his face lessened as he gave her a soft smile. “Your lord father is a known knight, and fine warrior, my lady. Doubtless you will find him when the camp gathers.”

She nodded, but the dark thoughts continued. Even if I do, what condition will he be in? That was his sword arm. He may never hold one again.

She should have been there to watch his back, and their men. She should have, but … 

Kevin Lannister led their host, nearly 10,000 men strong and composed of other houses, not just her own. When the chaos of battle reached its height, the neat formations began to break, and she noticed her commander was surrounded. Even if she had lost her own horse, she threw herself into the defense, allowing him to ride to safety. 

She did the right thing, she knew, but the anxiety still twisted at her. She asked the maester, “May I leave now?”

“You would do well to rest here, my lady. You should not be walking with that wound.”

“I can make it to my own tent and rest there,” She said stubbornly, even though she wasn’t sure where her house had set up their war tents. The maester was ready to protest, but a commotion outside pulled away both of their attentions.

There was the noise of horses and clinking armor outside the tent, not the sound of wounded men groaning as they were carried in. A squire opened the tent flap, and a tall, armored man entered. 

The maester instantly bowed his head. She followed his gesture after a brief moment of shock. “My lord.”

When she looked up, the squire was taking his helmet. She found his eyes in an instant, a striking green that only looked bolder against his fine gold armor and the splash of blood that dried on his cheek.

“I understand it was you, Lady Y/N of House Lydden, who came to my brother’s defense.”

“Yes, my lord,” She said. She’d heard him speak before, but that was to crowds of people, swaths of armored men. In such a small tent, in close proximity, she could hear just how deep and commanding his voice was. She was determined to keep her own steady.

“300 armored men, yet a stray soldier was the one jumping to the task. He wanted to know your name.”

Her mind scrambled for a response. “You spoke it true, my lord, and you have honored me with a visit. Might I ask why?”

While the unwounded and surviving soldiers outside the tent were already beginning to celebrate victory, their liege lord’s manner was steady. Take the fanciful armor away, and you would never guess he was returning from battle, save for an unmistakable glow in his eyes. She was sure that wasn’t just the candle light.

“Your father has relinquished his command to you. He was one of my strategists, so in his place, you will join the war council tonight.” 

A wave of emotion washed over her, slowly ebbing away the pain but bringing in a new motley of feelings. Regardless, she nodded. “I understand. I will serve well, my lord, as he did.”

Lord Tywin’s eyes glanced up her body. He turned to his squire. “Find her proper clothes before the evening sets in.” 

The young squire hastily opened the tent flap for him and bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

When they departed and the tent clothes, she felt her body sag on instinct. All the warmth seemed to have left the room, replacing it with a comforting chill. She released a breath and instantly regretted it, wincing at the pain in her ribs.

Then she winced again as she flinched. Gods be good, nearly her whole upper body was exposed in front of her lord paramount. She hastily tied her shirt back. The damage was done, but at least she could keep herself covered in front of the camp.

“It seems you cannot stay here even if I wish it,” The maester said. She had almost forgotten he was in the room. 

“I’ll return if my wounds take a turn for the worst, I promise. Thank you for your help.” Her promise felt silly as she uneasily stood on her bad leg. The pain began to dissipate as she walked, not because it felt any better, but because her mind was spinning, replaying the conversation. 

It had been a short talk, but she kept going over what he said, the way he stood, the way he looked at her -- well, she was just imagining that last part. She hastily pushed aside her exposure and focused on finding her house’s tents.

As was commanded, a set of fine clothes were brought to her tent, in addition to her set of newly cleaned armor. She raised her eyebrow at the dress - presumably, what she was expected to wear. She sighed and put it on. On one hand, it was irksome that she couldn’t wear a doublet and breeches, on the other, she was grateful to not have to don the armor. Her body was still aching from the morning battle, and a skirt was easier on her wounded leg.

The wartent was just as impressive as it was the last time she saw it. The canvas was a bold crimson that was lit up from the inside, making it glow in the night, with embroidered gold lions on the side. Tywin’s squire recognized her and allowed her inside with a courteous “good evening, Lady Lydden”.

As expected, several of the lords gathered at the table stared pointedly at her. Some recognized her, most didn’t, and it was Kevan Lannister crossing the room that quieted any protest. He offered his hand. “I owe you a great deal of thanks, Lady Lydden.”

“I was merely doing my duty, Ser Kevan.” The gratitude was unexpected, but welcome. Kevan led her to an empty seat, only two seats down from Lord Tywin, she realized. Was this truly her father’s seat? She ignored the other lord’s gazes, but she could feel how confused and indignant they were.

Lord Tywin began the discussion. Even after a heated battle, a victory, he would not rest. The young wolf had surprised him. She listened to the talks and strategies the men threw out, interjecting when she felt the need to provide her own knowledge. Some lords ignored her, others gave her pointed retorts. It seems only Ser Kevan was responding to her favorably, and she had yet to have a chance to respond to Lord Tywin, until now.

“We will need a smaller host to stay in the center, and go where is needed,” Ser Kevan said, pointing to a map and moving several figures. Banners of various houses were attached to small stone-carved knights, representing their forces.

“They will need to be swift riders, with a keen awareness. Whichever side begins to crack under pressure, they’ll be there to relieve it.” Lord Tywin said. He looked around the table, expectantly.

She met those green eyes as she leaned forward. Close as she was, it was as though she were speaking directly to him, not addressing an entire war council. “My lord, I have some of the finest riders at my command. I can lead two or three hundred of them -- the rest will replenish whichever hosts have lost the most men.”

There was a loud scoff behind her. She turned sharply, recognizing the source at once. Of course, Ser Amory Lorch. “It is so … refreshing to see enthusiasm in a … lady such as yourself, but such an important task should be left to one with experience.”

Lord Leo Lefford leaned back in his seat and adopted a tone that was better suited to addressing a child. “I agree. I was at the center of today’s battle, my lady. Surely you understand our soldiers will not be eager to obey your commands, no matter what they may be.”

“They will listen,” She retorted hotly, the pain in her wounds and worry for her father creating a bite in her voice. “My orders would be coming from our liege, Lord Tywin. To disobey me is to disobey him... Surely they understand that?”

The men around the table did not immediately respond, falling into an uncomfortable silence that made some of them shift in their seats. Ser Amory obviously wanted to argue, but now it was a matter of what their commander would say.

Her father taught her to meet men’s gazes, to not demure and look away. Her mother taught her to straighten her posture and keep herself tall, never shrink and simper, even if they tried to make her feel small. Their lessons helped her become who she was, and she looked upon Tywin Lannister’s green eyes again. 

Just like at the maester’s tent, the room felt smaller and warmer than it had moments ago. It was foolish to say time crawled, because it didn’t. She just breathed a little slower.

“Lady Y/N’s host will lead in the center. They’ll be supplied with the best mounts, after the vanguard has had their pick.” Lord Tywin said, and gestured to his brother. Ser Kevan placed a figurine with House Lydden’s banner, and just like that, any room for argument was over.

It would be unseemly to smirk and gloat, so she’d do it in the privacy of her tent, or perhaps when the next battle was over. For the next hour, her contributions were received with noticeably less ice, save for Ser Amory. She became engrossed in the meeting, not noticing how the man sitting just two seats away was taking note of the certainty in her voice and the strength of her conviction.

Some ladies flourished in court, some in marriage, some in solitude. It was obvious where this one’s talents lied.

She hadn’t even noticed how the hours passed, especially once wine was poured. The council was dismissed and Y/N tried to subtly finish off her cup. She didn’t get fine vintages like this often, and her aching ribs thanked her for the alcohol.

She set it down once she realized she was being watched. “Pardon, my lord. I don’t often have the luxury.”

“I imagine you’ll need it to sleep.” Tywin said. His goblet was still half-full, and she wondered if it was still his first cup. She hadn’t been paying attention. “Most men would’ve yielded from that wound.”

She touched her chest, feeling pain from just the brush of her fingers. “My ribs are not broken, my lord, and besides, I’ve never yielded to any man.”

“Is that so? I believe it.”

Why was there amusement in his voice - was she imagining it, and the way his eyes looked lighter? Why couldn’t she stop looking at them? Desperate to look at anything else, she realized the other lords had shuffled out of the tent, even Ser Kevan. The only one left was a servant clearing the table.

She stood from the war table and slid her chair in. It would hurt less to curtsy, but she wouldn’t do such a thing. Perhaps if she were leaving her lord paramount at a feast or gala, but this was her commander. She bowed her head and kept her posture rigid, ignoring the pain that shot up her spine. “I’ll speak with you at the next council, my lord.”

“That you will, and louder than tonight. The likes of Ser Amory and Lord Kenning are hard of hearing, and not half as clever as they think. They need a reminder of what I expect in this army.”

His flippant tone brought a slight smile to her face. “I’ll gladly speak loudly and slowly for them. Rest well, my lord.”

[thecassadilla]

Fix You Up

Pairing: Kristanna

Word Count: 3,375/AO3

Summary: Winding up in the emergency room isn't fun, but it's certainly a bit easier to endure when there's a beautiful doctor taking care of you.

Author’s Note: This is called “I’ve been re-watching way too much Grey’s Anatomy and I decided to write a completely self-indulgent/kind of ethically wrong but it doesn’t really matter because it’s fiction” fic based off of it. I’m not a doctor/nurse/medical professional of any type so I apologize if I got something wrong. Enjoy!!!

The last thing that Kristoff Bjorgman needed was to wind up in the emergency room. He hadn’t intended for the knife to slip and slice his finger open. But going to the hospital, getting through triage, and waiting in a white, sterile room to see a doctor made him re-evaluate his initial thoughts.

The last thing he actually needed was a pretty, perky, red-headed doctor taking care of him. And yet, it was happening whether he liked it or not.

“Hi, Mr. B - ooh,” she laughed as she walked into his room, attempting to read his last name off of his chart. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just that they teach you how to pronounce words like ‘choledocholithiasis’ in medical school but they don’t teach us how to pronounce our patients’ last names.”

“Oh, it’s -”

“No, I think I got it. Bjorgman?” she raised an eyebrow. 

“Yup, that’s it,” he nodded, pursing his lips. She seemed way too young to be a doctor; her hair was tied up in a high ponytail that bounced when she moved, and combined with the scrubs and white coat she was wearing, she looked like she was supposed to be trick-or-treating instead of practicing medicine. 

“Alright, Mr. Bjorgman, I’m Dr. Anna Andersen. What brings you in today?” She walked over to the sink and began to vigorously wash her hands.

“Apparently, I need stitches.”

She turned off the water and dried her hands with a paper towel before walking over to his side. She glanced down at his outstretched hand, inspecting the laceration for a few seconds. “I would say that I agree with your diagnosis. You definitely need a few stitches.”

“Fantastic,” he groaned.

“I’m sorry, I know this probably isn’t fun,” she frowned, grabbing a pair of gloves from the dispenser and snapping them on. “But we’ll try to get you out of here as quickly as possible.”

“I appreciate that.”

She sat down on the chair and rolled over to the side of his bed, inspecting his wound more closely. “How did this happen?”

He hesitated, and contemplated lying to her; maybe because he was certain that she’d laugh at him or think he was stupid for cutting himself open while chopping vegetables. He decided to tell the truth anyway. “I was cooking and the knife slipped.”

“Okay, do you mind if I -?” She motioned to his finger, a sense of relief washing over him; there was not a laugh or even a lip twitch in sight. 

“Go ahead.”

She gently placed her fingers on the area surrounding the cut. “Does this hurt at all?”

“Just a little,” he grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “But you can feel my fingers, yes?”

“I can.”

“Good.” She rotated his hand, surveying the damage from all angles. “Are you able to bend your finger?”

He demonstrated for her, despite the fact that it hurt every time he moved it.

“And how long ago did this happen?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think how long it had taken him to stop the bleeding and get in the car and fill out all the paperwork. “Like, two hours ago.”

“Okay, and are you allergic to any medications or anesthetics?”

“No,” he sighed.

“Sorry for all the questions, it’s procedure. Are you currently taking any medications?”

He shook his head.

“Alright, last one. Do you remember how long ago you had your last tetanus shot?”

“I don’t.”

She gently placed his hand back on the tray, then stood up, pulled the gloves off, and threw them in the trash. “Well, the good news is that the edges aren’t jagged and this should heal very nicely with a few stitches. The bad news is that you won’t be able to bend your finger for a few days.”

“Great.”

“Now, I’ll be right back, I’m just going to get the stuff I need to fix your finger and a tetanus booster and then we’ll get you out of here.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said in a low voice.

She smiled before ducking out of the room. Though he had yet to see her put her actual skills to the test, he was impressed by her bedside manner; she was actually quite adorable. Perhaps he had judged her too quickly. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said when she returned a few minutes later, setting down the materials she’d need on the tray next to his hand. “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She walked over to the sink and washed her hands again before putting on another pair of clean gloves. She sat back down in the chair next to his bed and scooted in as close as she could.

“Now, before I start stitching you up, I’m going to give you a local anesthetic so you won’t feel any pain,” she explained, as she pulled a syringe from a plastic package. “Speaking from experience, this will sting a bit.”

“Experience?” he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows together. “Like from your personal experience or what other people have told you?”

She filled it up with liquid from a tiny clear vial. “Both.”

“Do you warn all of your patients that it will hurt?”

“Only the ones I like,” she winked. “I’ll have to poke you a few times, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded, and she began to anesthetize the area. She poked him once, and then again, and again. He gritted his teeth.

“Almost done, you’re doing great,” she said, noticing his discomfort. She poked him one last time. “Okay, the worst is over.”

She stood up and deposited the needle in the sharp materials box next to the bed before taking her seat once again. “In just a few minutes, you’ll be numb and I can start.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said that would sting,” he remarked.

“I also wasn’t kidding when I said I only warn the patients that I like,” she grinned. She had such a beautiful smile. “A lot of people come in here and try to undermine my medical experience. I don’t warn people who think they know it all.”

He immediately felt guilty for thinking she looked more prepared for Halloween than for being a doctor. “No offense, but you do look very young.”

“Because I am young. I’m twenty-six,” she confessed with a shrug.

“They let you be a doctor that young? Not just you, but people in general.”

“Oh, yeah,” she laughed. “Medical school is only four years, and you’re officially a doctor when you graduate. Then you do a residency, which is what I’m doing right now, and that can be up to seven years. I’m still in my first year.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said. “That’s a lot of learning.”

“They don’t really advertise how many years of training you have to go through,” she said, tapping on his finger. “Can you feel that?”

“No.”

“Wonderful, now it’s time to party,” she announced. “First, I’m going to clean your wound with some saline solution.”

Though his finger was numbed, he could feel the sensation of the liquid trickling down his palm. 

“And now, I’m going to put some antibacterial liquid on your skin,” she explained, doing so as she spoke. “And I have to drape it with a sheet before I suture it…”

She unpacked the blue paper from it’s plastic package, and unfolded it. Conveniently, there was a hole right in the center. 

“Here,” she said, holding it up. “Slip your finger right through here, and...perfect!!”

“Do you always narrate what you’re doing for your patients?” he asked in a sincere tone. It was a genuine question.

“Yeah, it usually makes them feel better, but we can talk about something else if you want. Or, if you’d prefer me to be quiet, I can do that, too.”

In any other situation, he would have preferred the quiet, but she had a very appealing voice. “No, you can keep talking.”

“Good, I like talking,” she remarked with a smirk. She was now holding what looked like a pair of scissors in one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other. “You ready?”

“Yup.”

She leaned over his hand, which obstructed his view. “So you may feel the needle going in and out, but it shouldn’t hurt. There, did you feel that?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good,” she said. “So, what do you do for work?”

“I’m an engineer,” he answered, shortly. He didn’t want to bore her with the details. 

“Is that a job where you use your hands a lot?”

“Yeah, it is.”

She stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him, her bright, blue eyes nearly boring a hole into his own. “You’re either going to have to take a few days off from work or do something that doesn’t involve your hands, okay? Doctors’ orders. You shouldn’t bend your finger or do any heavy lifting until the stitches come out because you don’t want to accidentally rip it open.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. “Fine.”

She turned away again and resumed what she was doing. “Did you drive yourself here or did someone give you a ride?”

“I drove myself.”

“Now, I don’t advocate for reckless driving and I would strongly recommend that you call someone to pick you up. You won’t be able to bend your finger around the wheel.”

“I don’t really have anyone that I can call, but I’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that.”

Though he couldn’t see what she was doing, he could see the concentration on her face. She was so close that he could practically count the freckles that were scattered across her nose and cheeks. “So, uh, why did you become a doctor?”

She chuckled. “That’s a bit of a loaded question, but it’s practically a family business. My parents were doctors, my sister’s a doctor. I’m just following in their footsteps.”

“That’s cool that you can say that you all have the same career.”

“I suppose,” she said, her voice twinged with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure how to interpret her tone, but before he could even think about asking what she meant, she placed her tools down on the tray. “And just like that, you’re all stitched up.”

“That was fast,” he remarked as she removed the drape from around his finger. He was able to see it for the first time and counted six tiny knots.

“It isn’t really a time-consuming process,” she shrugged. 

“Well, you did a really good job.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “Now, I’m going to put some antibiotic ointment on it and then wrap it in gauze. You’ll have to keep it clean and dry for the first twenty-four hours. I’ll print you out some more detailed care instructions, but I’m going to recommend that you come back here in ten days to have them removed.”

“Gotcha.”

“Also, don’t rub any alcohol or hydrogen peroxide on it. And if you see any signs of infection - swelling, pus, increase in pain - you can come back or you can make an appointment with your primary care physician.”

“Understood.”

“I just have to give you the tetanus booster and then I’ll get your discharge papers. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

She prepared the vaccine, then stood up and ripped open an alcohol pad. She lifted up the sleeve of his shirt and cleaned off a small area. “This shouldn’t hurt at all,” she said, before injecting the liquid into his body. Seconds later, she was pulling it out, covering the tiny wound with a bandage, and dropping the needle into the sharps container.

“That was a walk in the park compared to the other one,” he chuckled.

“Easy peasy,” she smiled, gathering up all of the items that needed to be discarded. She walked over the garbage, and tossed it away before removing her gloves. “You stay put, okay?”

“Okay,” he answered, inspecting his finger as soon as she left the room. There wasn’t much to see, since the wound was covered by gauze.

“Alright, so this is a bag of stuff to take care of your finger - a few single-use packets of ointment, some gauze, and some tape. You’ll have to stop by a drug store to get enough ointment to last you for the entire ten days, though.” She handed him the small plastic bag.

He nodded. “Alright.”

She shuffled through the papers before handing him on. “Those are the wound care instructions. Please try to follow them as best as you can. When it’s time for the stitches to come out, you can come back here or go to your regular healthcare provider, it’s up to you. And last but not least, these are your discharge papers. We just need you to sign this page and then you’re a free man.”

She placed the papers and a pen on the tray and pushed it closer to him. He signed them without hesitating and she took them back once he was finished.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, I think you covered everything.”

She smiled. “Alright, then you’re free to go. Take care of yourself, Mr. Bjorgman.”

“Kristoff,” he corrected, holding out his hand for her.

She accepted, and shook it, keeping her eyes locked on his and allowing her fingers to linger for just a second when she pulled her hand back. “Be well, okay?”

Though he was free from the confines of the hospital, he felt almost as if he’d left a piece of himself there. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, for some reason. Not on the drive home, not when he was cleaning up the massacre in his kitchen, and not when he finally crawled into his bed that night but found himself unable to sleep. She was a beautiful, compassionate doctor and he was the idiot who showed up in her emergency room with a gaping hole in his finger. Remnants of their conversation played over and over again in his head, and though he didn’t know her at all, he found himself creating scenarios in his head where they would have the opportunity to meet again. He kept having to remind himself that she was only being so nice because she was a doctor.

As luck would have it, he would find himself back in the emergency room just two days later, for a rather unfortunate reason. Doubled over in pain, he spotted her in the hallway talking to a colleague as he was wheeled toward his room by an orderly. He couldn’t help but notice her eyes following where he was going until he couldn’t see her anymore, and he fervently hoped that she’d be the one to treat him, again.

She walked into his room shortly after, looking quite concerned. “Hey, what are you doing back here? Infection?”

“No,” he breathed. “I’m having really bad abdominal pains.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve been nauseous and I haven’t been able to keep anything down, and I have a fever. And the pain is really bad. Do you think it could be appendicitis?”

“It could be, but they’ll have to run some tests on you to confirm,” she said, shoving her hands into the pocket of her coat.

“Are you the only doctor that works here?”

“It feels like that sometimes,” she remarked. “But I’m not your doctor today.”

His face fell. “You’re not?”

She shook her head. “I just saw you from the hallway and I wanted to see what was going on, make sure that you were okay.”

“I wish I could say that I was making this up just so I could see you again.”

“You know, you’re really handsome and I like looking at you, but I’d prefer if we didn’t keep meeting like this.”

Feeling bold, he decided to press on. “What if we met somewhere else? Like a grocery store or a bar?”

She cocked her head, a smirk plastered across her face. “It would be a miracle because I don’t have a social life and I survive on takeout. I can't say I wouldn't like that, though.”

He laughed, but it only caused his pain to intensify and thus, remind him of the seriousness of the situation. He exhaled a few times through his mouth before speaking again. “What will happen if it is appendicitis?”

She sighed. “You’ll have to have surgery.”

“Oh,” he frowned. “When it rains, it pours, huh?”

She gently squeezed his arm. “We’ll take really good care of you.”

His memory got a little foggy after that; he remembered his actual doctor coming in, the nurse putting in an I.V., someone coming in and drawing his blood, and an ultrasound machine being wheeled into his room. He concluded that they must’ve given him some painkillers after that, because the next thing he remembered was waking up after surgery, the doctor telling him that it went well, and then promptly falling back to sleep. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally woke up.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” a soft voice asked. Suddenly, Dr. Andersen was by his side; she looked quite concerned and she was wearing normal clothes, not her scrubs or white coat.

He cleared his throat. “I’m okay.”

“Your surgery went really well,” she assured him. “You came in at just the perfect time.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay before I left for the night,” she explained, gently resting her hand on his arm. “Is there anything that I could get for you? Anyone I can call?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a small smile. “Get some rest, alright?”

“Wait,” he called, just as she was about to walk through the door. She obliged, and turned around. “They say lightning never strikes the same place twice. I’ve never been to the emergency room in my entire life, and now I’ve been here twice in three days. That has to be some kind of coincidence, right?”

“Today was my last day on rotation for emergency medicine. I’m moving on to pediatrics.”

His eyebrows furrowed together. “Because of me?”

“No, not at all,” she assured him. “That’s just how being a first year resident works.”

“I don’t...” he trailed off.

“The reason I brought it up is because you were talking about coincidences,” she said, in a low voice.

Suddenly, it clicked. “That’s a pretty big one, huh?”

She nodded slowly. “I would say so.”

“So what does this mean?”

She walked back over to his bed, sat down on the edge of it, and dropped her bag on the floor. “I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t worried about you all day.”

No use in being anything but honest now. “I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been thinking about you since the other day.”

“I may have been thinking about you, too,” she smirked. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean I can ask you on a date?”

“You may,” she blushed. “But only after you recover from your surgery. Don’t forget that you’re supposed to spend the next couple of weeks recovering.”

“So I won’t be able to take you out for, like, three weeks?”

“Don’t forget that I work eighty hours a week, too,” she laughed. “But I’ll give you my phone number and you can text me as much as you want. I may not be able to answer right away, but I enjoy reading my messages on my breaks.”

“Deal,” he agreed and he recited his number to her, so she could text him and he could save it.

“You really should get some rest now, though,” she insisted, standing up and straightening his blankets. 

“You should really take your own advice.”

“I know, I know,” she rolled her eyes. She picked up her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Have a good night, Kristoff.”

“You too...Anna,” he called. She beamed at him and as soon as she was out of sight, he found himself unable to control his own smile.

[thebladeblaster]

SMT 4 Corrupted (Halloween fic)

Summary: A rewrite of SMT4 Apocalypse where the Venom symbiote’s appearance causes the original timeline to further distort.

Please give me some of your opinions!!!

Chapter 1 Venomized (1st draft)

Flynn sat down feeling a bit exhausted. His eyes looked over the extravagant chalice in his hands nearly filled to the brim with light. He is to become the hope of the people of Tokyo. Soon, the god Krishna will be released which will drastically shift the fate of Flynn however another disturbance will soon cause that fate to shift again.

Flynn had black hair tied up into a ponytail by a white band. He had distinctive green eyes that had made him stand out in both his home Mikado and his current residence in Tokyo. white robes lined with gold with a blue and white coat over it. He had white pants and a brown belt with a sword hung on it. He had white boots with various straps. He had white knee pads over his pants and a white scarf on his neck worn like a bandanna. On his right arm was a metal gauntlet with a red strap around the wrist.

You could see the tiredness in his eyes. He was brimming with sweat from all the quests he had done to fill the chalice. It felt like one thing after the other he has hardly had any time to rest. Especially with Heaven’s forces hovering around the area near the reactor. He has a bad feeling they were planning something and he has to fill the chalice fast before something bad happens. Him and Isabeau took up some urgent quests dealing with demon attacks. They were split up for now since it was actually in many parts of Tokyo. He should be finished up now after beating the last horde. Good thing for him, his last one was in Shinjuku. Now, he can finally rest in the rooms at cafe Florida. Isabeau and him had been staying there ever since he came back from the White’s world.

He got himself up trying to mask his exhaustion. He doesn’t need demons to see an opening to gang up on him. He headed over to the exit for the underground district of Shinjuku. Most of the demons backed away at his presence probably due to seeing him defeat the hordes. However, that was most demons there was one exception.

He hastily jumped out of the way as some black tendrils stabbed where he was standing. He looked up at the demon, it was jet-black with completely white eyes. It was humanoid and very muscular. The demon looked unfamiliar to him...Where had it come from?

“Scanning…”, his AI companion Burroughs said from his gauntlet.

Flynn hastily touched the button screen of his gauntlet to summon his demons: Demonee Ho, Izanami, and Michael.

Demonee Ho jumped onto his shoulder using it as a perch to use its signature skill Desperate Hit. Energy like bullets shot out of its gun keeping the hulking demon at bay so Burroughs could finish analyzing the demon. He had to find out what the demon’s weakness is so he had Izanami use Thunder Gods on the demon. The demon seemed to be hurt by the lightning, but it persevered charging at Flynn. It seemed rather sturdy. Michael flew in front of him as Flynn had him use Inferno of God. The demon wailed in pain which made Michael smirk. Flynn now knew this was the demon’s weakness judging by the reaction. Flynn snapped his fingers causing a massive inferno to ignite which enveloped the demon. Flynn recalled his demons as he saw the other demons shrinking back in fear. The fire blast he shot created an explosion which lightly shook the area. A cloud of smoke filled Flynn’s gaze when it dissipated he raised his eyebrow as he saw a human man in place of the demon.

He was blonde, very muscular and naked for some reason. He has definitely seen some strange things in Tokyo. Was the demon taking the appearance of a man to lower his guard? Flynn cautiously poked the man with his sword.

“Master, th-zzzz”, Burroughs said, before suddenly there was static on his gauntlet.

His attention instantly turned to his gauntlet. It’s screen had gone black like when it was turned off puzzling Flynn. He tried to turn his gauntlet back on yet got no reaction. So, he tried again and again till he got annoyed. But, as soon as the annoyance wore off he was concerned about his AI companion. Seeing the demon star coming near the unconscious man drooling, Flynn decided to bring the man to the underground district so he wasn’t eaten alive. As he did he looked around for the mysterious demon wondering where it went off to. Perhaps it had been destroyed? That didn’t explain the naked man though. People gave him funny looks as he walked back in with the man. He didn’t let this bother him though. He looked for somewhere comfortable to set him down at.

He ended up going into the hunter association so he didn’t carry him through hordes of hungry demons. Similarly he got strange as some dumbfounding looks as he carried the man.

“Just how strong is that kid?”, a hunter whispered, sweat dropping.

“Maybe the naked weirdo tried to make a move on Tokyo’s Liberator?”? another hunter said.

The other hunters scooted over as he placed the man down. He put his hands over him which glowed with pink energy. The man’s wounds from the battle were quickly healed as if they were never there causing many hunters to gape.

“This guy just keeps getting crazier. You know I heard he could fly like a freaking superhero and I’m starting to believe it.”, a hunter said.

“I think I have some extra clothes...though I don’t think they could fit him…”, Flynn mumbled, clearly in his own world not listening to the comments aimed at him.

“Perhaps I could help out with that.”, the bartender volunteered.

“Ah, thank you.”, Flynn said, bowing politely.

“Speaking of a new wardrobe, when did you change your outfit Mr. Tokyo Liberator?”, the bartender asked, confusing Flynn before he looked down at his samurai garb to see it was now pitch black with only a few bits of white remaining on it.

“Huh?!”, Flynn questioned, raising up his sleeve to look at it.

Why did his clothes change? When did his clothes change?

“That’s weird I could swear it was blue a second ago…”, Flynn said, sounding a bit weirded out.

The two looked over as the man seemed to rouse. He had a spooked expression on his face which worsened as he looked over to Flynn. He jumped backing away from him as he walked towards him.

“Are you alright sir? Do you know anything about that weird demon that disappeared suddenly?”, Flynn asked.

The man shivered and shuttered.

“Someone should give this dude a blanket.”, a hunter said.

“G-get away from me! I’m done with you! Y-you got the host you wanted!”, the man said fearfully, greatly confusing everyone who heard it.

“Host? What are you talking about?”, Flynn inquired, trying to reach out only for the man to bolt out of the association.

“It’s your problem now!”, the man yelled.

Flynn scrambled up to catch the man and inquire further. However, when he exited the association he didn’t see the man anywhere. He checked all the entrances and it seemed like he was gone.

“Host? It? This is all so strange?”, Flynn murmured, completely perplexed.

“I’ll worry about it later. It doesn’t seem I can find the man and I still have to find out what happened to Burroughs.”, Flynn thought.

He wasn’t exactly sure who to ask so he went back to Cafe Florida to ask Fujiwara. He’s sure to know someone he can ask. He walked over to the little corner the cafe was tucked away in and went through the door. He explained the situation to Fujiwara and Skins.

“I see...it seems like your Demonica is broken. I’m sure I can find someone to fix it up. This is a rather inconvenient time for this to happen with Lucifer and Merkabah around. I’ll try to get it back to you as fast as possible. Till then you’ll have to take it easy without your demons.”, Fujiwara said.

“I can’t do that!”, Flynn protested.

“Simmer down there. We’re not asking you to retire or anything. You just need to take on some easier requests at least until your Demonica is fixed up. It should be in less than a week.”, Skins replied.

“Still…”, Flynn grumbled stubbornly, making the two sweat drop.

“Why are the young so reckless?”, Fujiwara sighed.

“Hehe. Everyday he reminds me more of the man who saved Tokyo.”, Skins chuckled as Flynn walked away.

“Yeah...their resemblance is uncanny. He’s just as stubborn as he was. Never able to settle when there was still good to be done. ”, Fujiwara replied.

Flynn went to the back of the cafe where the room he was staying in was at. He was exhausted both physically and mentally especially with the weird incident earlier. He still doesn’t know what was up with that guy or where the demon went. Or why Burroughs was damaged and why his samurai uniform is now black. He laid down on his bed tiredly quickly putting on something more comfortable for sleeping. He wore a simple blue shirt and black shorts. His hair tie was undone allowing his hair to lay freely on his shoulders. As soon as he hit the pillow he was out like a light.

Strangely the black uniform seemed to shift after Flynn drifted into unconsciousness.

Flynn started to dream, finding himself in the cloudy scape where he had met with the goddess of Tokyo before. The goddess was in the unassuming form of a little girl with black hair and a long white dress.

“Flynn!”, the goddess called out anxiously, sounding worried.

In reality the uniform was back to being blue as if the black on it had been washed away. A black mass slithered its way towards the unconscious Flynn.

“Is there something wrong, goddess?”, Flynn asked.

The gooey mass made its way up the bed to where Flynn was currently resting. The mass shifted arching over his prone form casting a shadow over him.

“There’s another threat to Tokyo! A big threat has just appeared! Flynn you have to wake up!”, the goddess cried out urgently confusing the messiah.

“Something other than Lucifer and Merkabah?”, Flynn questioned in a confused tone.

The being edged closer to the unconscious samurai shifting itself to be narrower as if to fit into something. Small tendrils came out of it forcing his mouth open.

“Yes! You have to hurry Flynn!”, the goddess said.

The being it’s way slithered into his mouth.

Flynn suddenly felt on guard in his dream like something was very wrong. He didn’t know exactly how to wake up. Usually the weird dream vision would end on its own and he would wake up.

The being continued forward slithering down his throat forcing his unconscious to swallow as to not choke.

Flynn stiffed as the feeling of wrongness became much greater. Something felt off and unnatural.

“Flynn...it’s inside you.”, the goddess said, horrifying and further confusing him.

“Inside me?”, Flynn questioned, stumbling as the area around them suddenly shook.

He looked over to see the towering form of Masakado in his full glory rather than being just a floating head. Opposing the castle-like god was a large less human version of the black demon from before. It’s form seemed less human and almost alien in proportions. It battled Masakado, the goddess called out for Flynn as he rushed into the battle hoping to help Masakado. He gasped in shock seeing Masakado on the back foot from the demon and actually being defeated. The demon before was not that strong.

“Flynn! Do not let it take over your soul!”, Masakado warned eerily as he slowly fell.

Flynn reached for his sword only to realize it was missing. Actually all his equipment was missing. He was in his sleepwear. So, he tried to conjure another Trisagion to defeat the demon once again, but nothing happened much to his shock. He tried again and his magic still wasn’t working. The demon grabbed Flynn with its tendrils and he desperately tried to get out of its grip.

“From now on Godslayer you're under new management.”, the demon said with a sinister grin.

Flynn looked at the demon with a defiant look in face of his situation.

“I won’t submit to you! I’ll stop you!”, Flynn declared.

“We’ll see about that. Once you feel the power I’ll give you’ll never want to go back.”, the demon said before devouring him whole.

In reality Flynn bolted awake to see he was no longer in his room. He was outside for some reason sword in hand fighting demons without his gauntlet. He had on the black samurai uniform instead of his sleepwear and his hair was tied back up by something.

“How did I get here?”, Flynn questioned, he noticed the demons shrinking away from him.

For some strange reason he felt a power pulsing through him which felt...really good. His worries, confusions, and anxieties seemed to clear away as the power pulsed through him like a beating heart. The black uniform clung onto him like a second layer of skin and it felt alive...like he could feel a pulse within it strangely enough. It felt a little too good. He feels like he should be more worried about this, but such thoughts were quickly plucked from his mind.

“What’s this...I feel…?”, Flynn murmurs as he looks over the black samurai uniform.

He felt a pump of adrenaline through his system like he had to go fight something. He needed to fight, conquer, feed...The feeling of the power pulsing inside him felt addicting like a drug. Yes...with this power he could still fight at full capacity without his gauntlet! He could crush Lucifer and Merkabah easily!

“Wow...this feels good!”, Flynn said, a uncharacteristically sinister smirk formed on his face.

The demons looked more nervous looking at Flynn like a rabbit looks at a wolf. He raised his sword to the still shivering demons.

Somewhere else in some other plane of existence a man in all orange in a wheelchair watched this.

“I guess you could call me this universe’s watcher. Ah, it seems the wheels of fate have shifted once more. Now, will Tokyo’s Liberator overcome this demon’s corruption or will he submit to it and fall from grace? Only time will tell.”, the man named Stephen said.

To be continued...

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Whumptober Day 18: To Fix What Is Broken

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 18, follow-up to Day 12. Set after Httyd 2, not canon-compliant with THW. Years after their mistake, the Gang may need to force Hiccup to break down the wall he's constructed since then. It may not end as terribly as it did last time.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut

Pairing: None

Words: 5 187

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: "Panic Attack”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: NOTE: The rape/non-con elements in this fic are purely implied and referenced. Nothing is explicitly shown.

Not sure how much I've succeeded at portraying a panic attack in this one. I’ve only done it once before and it’s in an unposted one-shot. So I have no idea how well I’ve written a panic attack.

Might also be too long. I tried to look at what needed cutting, but I had no idea what.

Also written as a follow-up to Whumptober Day 12, which I will be linking.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3 to Whumptober Day 12

Ao3 To Whumptober Day 18

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In the end, nothing got fixed. After his outburst in the Dragon Academy and doing "damage control" with his father, Hiccup somehow managed to convince him to let him go back to the Edge, and then it's like everything went back to normal.

Normal as in Hiccup pretending like nothing happened and continuing on as usual. Giving orders, prioritizing dragons and beating Dragon Hunters, sassing, the whole charade. He simply goes about his business, truly as if nothing happened that day, as if they hadn't hurt him and he hadn't hurt them.

A part of them is selfishly relieved and wants to go along with the pretend, but a slightly bigger part of them knows it isn't right, that Hiccup is simply ignoring the issue altogether in the hope that it will just go away.

So they've tried to bring it up with him. At dinner, during game night, during a patrol, any moment where he can sit down and have a talk. But he always shuts them down as soon as the subject is brought up, telling them not to make such a big deal out of something so stupid and small and to let it rest.

Sometimes they don't even get the chance to start talking before Hiccup would leave the room as soon as they sit down. There's just something about the way they sit down whenever they try to talk to him that tips him off to what they're planning on doing.

This whole thing has made him a hypocrite because he wouldn't just let this rest if the person suffering isn't him. Though to be fair, he would be a lot more sensitive about it than they have been.

The worst part is that their attempts at reaching him aren't only in vain, they make things worse between them and him, too. Though he and Toothless seem to be doing fine, the two of them go off together without the rest of the Dragon Riders a lot more than they used to even at the very beginning of the Dragon Academy.

Hiccup spends more time by himself, while game night often keeps going until the wee hours of the night, he only stays for an hour or two before retreating to his hut or forge to do whatever.

And then they get captured again. The Riders fight and fight to make their captivity end as soon as humanly possible, to save Hiccup from more hurt, but when they get home, Hiccup and Toothless disappeared for days.

So instead of suffering through this period of pain on the Edge, he was suffering through it somewhere else instead, with only Toothless there to see it.

It's so unhealthy. The way he avoids it altogether, pretends like nothing is wrong, like his head isn't full of what he's enduring. The way he runs from his second home, from his friends, to suffer completely on his own only to return and continue to act like nothing's happened and like he hasn't been gone.

So they let it rest, feeling like they have no other choice. After telling Stoick had been disastrous, after returning to the Edge, after attempt after attempt ends in failure, they decide to let it rest. Maybe them "letting it go" will, at the very least, urge Hiccup to stay home when he has these troubling episodes. That way, he's safe with them when he has them and not off to Odin knows where.

Unfortunately for Hiccup, life has a way of confronting someone with their traumas.

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Years pass.

Drago Bludvist happens, Hiccup finds out his dead mother isn't actually dead, Stoick is killed, Hiccup becomes Chief of the Hooligan tribe at the young age of 20, and Eret joins the Dragon Riders. Once again his life is turned upsidedown, but besides a few references here and there, Viggo's criminal acts are never talked about.

Despite this, the Riders know that the former Dragon Hunter Chief is far from forgotten, even while dead.

Because Berk is a very handsy place and Berk doesn't know about Hiccup's ever-growing aversion to touch. They act around him as they always have, Hooligan friendly, and his friends have seen his discomfort that everyone else is either blind to or attributes to his awkwardness.

On that front, Eret is very observant, keeping it at friendly shoulder pats.

But it isn't just the "no touching", the Riders can see Viggo's influence on other aspects of Hiccup's life.

They can see when he's having a particularly bad episode by the bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep, by the weight he loses when eating becomes a problem, or when he suddenly and inexplicably needs to leave a room and won't be back for hours.

They've never disturbed him before, but they know he's at the cove with Toothless when he does this. So at least they know he's safe.

But Hiccup's wardrobe isn't lost on them either. Going from a simple tunic and somewhat plain armor to layers upon layers with armor on top and belts in more places than they need to be, one dagger strapped to an arm, and his Inferno strapped to his thigh,... the Riders aren't idiots.

Berk may think it's his taste for the dramatic, but they know that he's making up for a concerning lack of a sense of security. Viggo's death hasn't made him feel any safer and Stoick's has made that even less so.

It's all leather, too, all except for his tunic.

It always takes him minutes just to reach his main tunic and knowing Hiccup that is bound to bite him in the ass someday.

And it did.

Having allies means coming to their aid in their time of need and that can sometimes result in one of the Dragon Riders getting hurt. This time, it so happened to be Hiccup.

Aiding the Berserkers when an enemy tribe thought to raid them, the Dragon Riders came to help and in the ensuing battle, Hiccup got knocked off Toothless.

It is easier to down a disabled dragon than a fully-abled one, even with a rider, but throughout the years, their grace in the sky hasn't just grown, but their chances of being downed have lessened.

Unfortunately for Hiccup and Toothless, that means crashing just hurts more. As a dragon, Toothless is sturdy and can therefore shake a crash or two off, but as a mere human, Hiccup cannot.

Unable to just walk it off, he was taken to the healer to be looked at and treated. He'd been unconscious the whole way there, a blessing because that meant he didn't need to feel them move him and cause him more pain in the process, a curse because that meant he woke up in a stranger's home.

"He won't let me treat him," The healer had to tell the Riders and Heather, the Berserker Chieftess. Despite her many attempts at soothing him and telling him that he needs to be examined, he still won't let her.

The Riders, standing outside of her shack, all look at each other, knowing why Hiccup is refusing treatment and too afraid to say.

Heather places a hand on Astrid's shoulder, sharing her troubled mood. She, too, knows of Hiccup's fear, having lived on the Edge for a time and experienced his episodes for herself.

"Maybe it'll help if his friends are there? A familiar face can do wonders." She suggests, while Eret steps forward.

"This is so strange. The Chief has his reckless moments, but refusing treatment just seems... not like him." He says and he's right. This is beyond being reckless, this is endangering his own life.  And not just for some stunt, but for refusing treatment!

"We can go in and see what we can do, but you're going to have let Toothless in. Hiccup won't accept treatment without him in the room." Astrid tells the healer. It's not a plan that guarantees success, but it's better than forcing him to comply with something that triggers an old fear.

The healer sighs and nods. She's not particularly happy to have a Night Fury in her home and place of work, but she recognizes that she needs to allow it for her patient's sake.

Astrid turns to face Toothless, who was all but glued to the door of the shack, awaiting the moment he could join Hiccup's side again. Was because he's already entering after pawing the door open.

So she turns to Eret instead.

"Eret, I know you want to help, but I need to ask you to stay here." She tells him and Eret nods. It's not that she wants to exclude him, it's just that he probably doesn't know and Hiccup would probably like to keep it that way. Until he wants to talk about it himself, that is. They've learned their lesson about telling people something this personal, even if they think it's for his sake.

The rest of the Riders, they follow Toothless inside. What they find is Toothless and Hiccup having what can only be called a stand-off.

"Oh great, guys, can you tell Toothless to move? He's not letting me leave." Hiccup requests when he notices they aren't alone anymore, but quickly resumes his staring contest with the dragon, who is rumbling challengingly. In a "you just try to get past me" kind of way. His tail is swaying behind him.

"Leave? You need medical attention, you can't leave!" Astrid replies surprised.

"Which I can get plenty of back home. Berk isn't far by dragon." Hiccup passes Toothless and for all his bravado, he realizes that he can't actually stop him from leaving the healer's hut.

The Riders and Toothless watch him limp towards the door, holding his side. He still looks like just as much of a mess as when Eret brought him in, including the bloody pants that he has bandaged rather messily. As someone who knows at least a thing or two medically and knows of the importance of proper treatment, this only shows his urgency to get out of here.

Catching him trying to limp past them and out the door, Astrid comes to stand before him, effectively stopping him in his way. Blinking in surprise, Hiccup looks at her.

"Wow hey, you can't just leave. A few hours by dragon is still far when you have injured your ribs. Especially when you have healer and supplies right here." She tells him and Hiccup doesn't like what he's hearing. She's making sense to him as well, of course, but his high levels of discomfort are overruling his common sense.

"Astrid, I'm fine. I can breathe fine, albeit, with a little bit of pain, I can make the trip back to Berk."

"So you say and then, once we're over the ocean with no island for miles you discover that, oh no, you suddenly can't breathe out of one lung! You faint, you and Toothless crash, and you both drown." Astrid puts her foot down and crosses her arms, scolding him for his way of thinking. "A little bit of pain" does not equal "okay".

"But that's why I have you guys, to keep that from happening." He says.

"Oh yeah, because we can definitely fix a collapsed lung on the spot." Snotlout sides with Astrid and comes to stand next to her, obstructing Hiccup's way out further.

Hiccup sighs and a look of pain passes on his face, the too deep release of air hurting his side.

"Hiccup, why don't you want to be treated?" Astrid asks, having some idea, but not wanting to jump to conclusions.

"It's just... It doesn't feel good to have a stranger..." Touch me, he wants to say, but having put up a wall between the Riders and his "issues", he refuses to say it.

"To have a stranger what?" Astrid asks, suspicious of what he actually wants to say.

"I just trust Gothi's expertise more." A rude thing to say, especially for him. They're lucky the healer isn't here to hear him.

The Riders glare at him and Hiccup looks away, uncomfortable with how rude he's just been to a woman who simply wants to help him. The words had left him before he could stop them and he regrets them already.

"Okay, we'll stay." He finally decides, but keeps standing by the door because he doesn't actually feel like moving, more so because of how much it hurts to use his injured leg.

He doesn't know what he cut his thigh on, just that it bleeds enough to require stitches and be at risk for infection. Which makes his decision to leave seem even more foolish and unlike him.

But the Riders don't blame him because they know exactly what causes this out of character behavior.

Offering her hands, Hiccup lets her help him sit down on the bed behind him. He'd been lying on it before, when he woke up and the healer tried to examine him and he was being too difficult of a patient.

Hiccup wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, he's anxious and his friends notice. Astrid crouches down in front of him.

"We can stay if you want us to. Fishlegs knows how to heal, he can even do it while the healer watches and helps where needed. We already convinced her to let Toothless stay. If having a familiar face helps you get through this, we're here for you." She talks vaguely about him not needing to be touched by a stranger or being left alone with a stranger on an island full of strangers.

Hiccup mulls it over, thinking about her offer, but then shakes his head lightly.

"This is stupid, she's not even..." A man, like he was. But he doesn't say it, whispering more to himself than he is talking to Astrid. They don't need to know. As if they don't know already.

"You're really anxious, it's not stupid." It's Snotlout who says this as he's surprisingly sensitive about this forbidden topic.

Hiccup looks up at his friends, Toothless purring as he invites himself in their space and nudges his human's uninjured leg in support.

He's not ready for this. He can feel himself sweating, his heart is pounding so much in dread that it aches, his anxiety is already through the roof.

He doesn't want to do this, but Astrid is right, this could potentially be needlessly life-threatening and he would be dragging Toothless down with him.

He just has to stop being so stupid and let the woman do her job.

"Okay, call her back in." Hiccup requests and lies back down with some difficulty while Fishlegs leaves to get her.

It'll be fine, it'll be fine, it'll be fine. It doesn't matter how many times he'll be repeating that in his mind, he'll have to do it as many times as it takes.

The old healer enters her hut again and she wants to get to work.

Hiccup watches her move around, his eyes following her as he attempts to control his breathing, as hard as it is with his ribs aching. Every breath in and out hurts him and that some part of him wants to draw shorter and shallower breaths with his rising nerves doesn't help.

She takes everything she may need. Cloth, bandages, water, herbs, anything to treat his injuries with.

It'll be fine, it'll be fine.

Everything in hand, Fishlegs helping her carry her stuff, she approaches and sets it all down.

"It'll be fine." Astrid looks at him when she hears him mutter.

But the second he feels hands trying to undo his belts, he panics. He takes her hands and pulls them away from him before rushing to sit up and hurting himself in the process. A cry of pain leaves him, everyone jumps to attention.

"Hiccup, wait, it's okay." Astrid tries to tell him, grabbing a shoulder.

"No! Nope! None of this is okay! I'm not okay!" He tells her before he winces and has no choice but to fall back down, holding his side and jostling his leg, which has bled through the bandages by now.

The Riders and Toothless gaze at him, the healer keeping her distance as she can tell this is a rather personal matter and so doesn't involve herself.

They listen to him groaning in pain, see the expression of agony as well as the sweat already glistening on his skin in the candlelight. His air intake is ragged. It is shallow and too fast, which only hurts him more.

"Hiccup," Astrid speaks his name, he shivers beneath her hand.

"No, I can't I... I just can't. I can't let this happen." This is wrong. This feels so wrong to him. The hands of someone that he doesn't know on his body where they don't belong.

In the past few years, the only ones who have been able to infiltrate his personal space in such a close manner have been his father and Toothless, maybe occasionally the Dragon Riders. Though, the Dragons more than the Riders.

And Berk, of course, but that was beyond his control. He doesn't like any of it and that is already hard to suffer through. Doing this is more than he can bear. He wants out.

He can already feel it creeping onto him. The hands.

"Hiccup, you need a healer." Astrid gently reminds him.

"I can put you under a sedative if that makes this procedure easier on you." The healer offers Berk's Chief some peace, at least for the next few hours.

"What? No! No sedatives!"

"Not even painkillers? It might help." Ruffnut suggests.

"No, no painkillers either. I want nothing." He's breathing so fast, he's becoming lightheaded. Meanwhile, his ribs burn.

"Then what do you want us to do?" Astrid asks, hoping Hiccup can tell them what he thinks will help him get through this most.

They've already gone behind his back once and it had made everything worse for him, had made things terrible between them.

But Hiccup shakes his head, not even knowing the answer to that question himself.

Gods, he can feel them. Disembodied hands where they don't belong, touching him where they were never meant to touch.

He wants to cry.

Astrid offers him her hand and he takes it too quickly and squeezes too hard. He's dying for comfort.

But he knows he needs to go through with it.

"Just go ahead with it. Just do it." He tells them uncertainly and the healer steps forward again, hands moving to his belts to undo them.

This time he lets her, but his hyperventilation worsens and so does his trembling. His eyes close as if it'll help if he can't see her hands on him. Feeling them on him is already bad enough.

He can feel other hands creeping upon him. They're bigger with more callouses and they aren't actually there, which is why they creep.

They belong to a man that isn't even alive anymore and yet, with every unwanted touch forced upon him, he can feel him again.

"Shhh, it's okay. You'll get through this. Just breathe, Hiccup, breathe." Astrid tells him and he tries to keep a hold of himself to the best of his ability.

His vest is splayed upon and more wounds are made bare. Besides the aching of his ribs, there's a splotch of blood on the right side of his lower abdomen, close to the hem of his trousers.

"He's bleeding through his tunic." Snotlout mutters, bringing attention to it. The healer takes the hem of his tunic in order to take a look.

Hiccup can feel it, is too aware of her every move. Still squeezing Astrid's hand, he squeezes even tighter and she lets him. Tears wet his eyes and when she cautiously pulls it up, they slip free and he seizes her hands again, unable to bear any more of this.

"Hey, shhh, it's okay." Astrid holds all of their hands as she hushes him.

Toothless intervenes and headbutts his human's face, a gesture of affection that Hiccup returns.

"Yeah, it's okay, we're all here with you." Snotlout tells him, stepping forward, but not daring to go as far as Astrid is going. One of them is probably enough.

"Breathe, Hiccup. Breathe."

"I can't. I-I can't."

Fishlegs comes closer.

"Then maybe I can help! Try to follow along with me, okay?" Hiccup leaves Toothless to face him, who exaggerates his breathing in a slow and timely manner so he can keep up.

It's hard, but Hiccup tries his best to follow along until his breathing comes to a more natural pace and his lightheadedness doesn't turn to darkness.

Astrid manages to make Hiccup let go of the healer and hold onto her instead.

They don't like any of this, the panic attack, the sweat sticking his clothing to his skin, or the tears now sliding down his face. His lip is trembling, his everything is trembling.

This is what he hid from them after their damning talk with Stoick for so long, this is what Viggo has done to him. Their fearless leader rendered to this. The fact that they still don't know the details haunts them to this day.

He can still face any enemy, can stare down death itself if he has to, but he can't stand being touched, not even if it's for his own well-being.

"This is so stupid." They hear him mutter, something they've heard him repeat over and over again with whatever involves his issues. They don't know what he thinks is so stupid, but they've heard him say this so many times by now.

Astrid dares to take a seat on the bed next to him and lets go of his hand to cup his cheeks. He stares up at her with a wild look of panic. If he wants her to let go, she trusts that he'll let her know.

"Hiccup, please listen," She starts and hopes that's what he'll do.

"We're all here to protect you. I know we've failed you before, but no more. You're safe with us. Tonight, tomorrow, every day for the rest of your life, you're safe." She tells him and his hands take hers, but he doesn't pull them away. Her touch is light, so it wouldn't be hard to remove them, he wants them there.

"We love you. Please let us protect you." She requests with genuine emotion.

He nods.

"Okay," He says quietly, barely above a whisper as most of his voice is stuck in his throat. It's a miracle he even got that much out.

Toothless rumbles encouragingly and invites himself partially into the bed, pretty much wrapping his forelegs around his Rider, but staying mindful of his injuries.

Hiccup lets go of Astrid's hands, gaining some control over himself.

Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut take them, watching for any reaction that might tell them this is the wrong move to make. So far, there isn't any.

This might be it, the opening they've been waiting for. For years Hiccup has been completely closed off on this topic, he's locked his fears up tight and thrown away the key. But now, perhaps the door stands open on a creak and they're allowed a peek inside with a promise for more.

Whether this is what it is or not doesn't matter at the moment. What does matter, is helping him through tonight.

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"Hey, how're you feeling?" Back on Berk, Astrid asks Hiccup this question as they enter his home a few days later.

Looking up from his blueprints, he watches them enter with a tired smile.

He's sitting on a chair, wearing a comfortable tunic to spare his bruised ribs the weight that comes with many layers. The stitched gash on his lower abdomen benefits from this, too. He doesn't like it, but Toothless is with him always and so is Sharpshot, who lies curled up on the table. His injured leg rests on another chair, the wound having been stitched closed and showing no signs of infection so far.

"Eh, tired. Maybe in need of some more painkillers. It's been a few hours and my everything hurts again." He answers as they walk further into the home, greeted by Toothless who croons their way happily. He's lying curled up around Hiccup's spot, helping him feel secure as he can't wear his "shield".

Ever since that night, something has changed in their group again. Talking with him, being around him, it's easier. It's as if there's been this tension for so long that nobody even noticed after a time, and now that it's finally gone and they can all feel that lack of weight.

"I'll go make some!" Fishlegs offers himself up and disappears into the kitchen.

"How is everything with the village outside?" Hiccup asks, hoping that his work isn't stacking up as he spends his time inside recovering. He is weirdly okay with staying indoors. So far, at least.

"We're managing things, the twins are actually fixing stuff more than they break it," Astrid informs him.

"Hey, we can be very good repair people." Ruffnut protests.

"Besides, just means there's more for us to break later," Tuffnut mutters to her, and the two snicker. Astrid and Snotlout both roll their eyes.

"We'll make sure they don't break stuff later." The latter promises with a deadpan. Hiccup smiles at him gratefully.

"Here it is!" Fishlegs returns with a painkilling, and possibly sleep-inducing, broth and hands it to Hiccup.

"Thanks," He says, taking it and then staring at it as he holds it in his hands. He's not exactly looking forward to it, these broths never taste that pleasant. This one doesn't even smell good.

He should take it, get rid of the pain, and maybe get some shut-eye. These blueprints can wait.

But first, there's been something that he's been contemplating as he waited for his friends' inevitable visit for the day. They always come by.

"Hey, um..." He starts, gaze still on the cup with the broth.

The Riders look at him, wait for him to talk, and say what's on his mind as there is clearly something.

They aren't quite prepared for the topic he's about to bring up, but the day they've been waiting for has finally arrived.

After some hesitation, Hiccup forces himself to say it.

"He never went all the way."

Surprised to hear him talk about it, the Gang listens.

"Vi-Viggo, he... He never..." Hiccup stops talking then and they don't interrupt or try to finish his sentence for him. They can tell it's taking him everything just to talk now, he's not even looking at them, hand coming up to hide most of his face from view.

Toothless purrs, sitting up to meet Hiccup at eye-level, but he's not looking at him either.

"It really did just stay with words and... and touches... Every time I got captured and taken to him, but... That's it, nothing else." It's not like they don't know that something's been done to him, but to actually hear him say it, to hear their suspicions be confirmed is something else entirely.

The twins share a saddened look, Fishlegs looks down at his hands, and Astrid and Snotlout both feel themselves tense up. It's been a good few years and still, it makes them so angry that any of it happened.

Back to the conversation, Snotlout wanted to remind him that that wasn't nothing, but Astrid stops him. Hiccup is finally talking, they should let him have his say before they comment.

Still unable to bear to look at his friends, Hiccup wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers.

"It-it-it... "It" never actually happened so-so it-so it just seemed so stupid to feel the way I did. The-the way I do. Like-like I was hurt when I wasn't." That was part of the problem, it wasn't as bad as it could've been and that made worrying about it seem so dumb to him.

He's lucky. That's what he's been telling himself. He's lucky.

"So stupid," He repeats, feeling like an attention seeker for something that was "not as bad as it could've been". So many people have suffered worse than him, he shouldn't complain.

He rocks nervously, trying to cope with the influx of memories that have festered over the years, with the shame welling up. Thus far they've only been dealt with by cramming them into the darkest corners of his mind, a fruitless effort that usually ends in frustration and anger. There they have continued to rot and chipped away at him piece by piece like an untreated infection.

Bringing it up now still hurts just as much as it would've hurt to bring up back then.

As a brief silence sets in, Astrid dares to take a step and sits down at the table on a seat next to him.

"I think you and I both know that he doesn't need to go "all the way" for this to hurt, Hiccup. What happened was so, so traumatizing, doesn't matter how far he did or didn't go. And it happened... It happened multiple times." Astrid has to swallow, feeling like she might throw up if she doesn't.

"If we were in each other's shoes, you would be telling me the exact same thing." She tells him and Hiccup finds that she has a point.

If this had happened to Astrid, to any of his friends, he wouldn't stand for them to call their reaction to being... to being... He wouldn't call them stupid, he wouldn't call them calls for attention.

"He hurt you and you have every right to be angry, even now." She continues.

"We all hurt you." Snotlout admits, coming to sit at the table as well. The others, they swiftly follow their example.

To hear them tell him that he has every right to be angry, to be hurt, is more relieving than he can ever express.

But there's a question Snotlout has been wondering about this whole time and he wonders if Hiccup will answer.

"How... I understand if you don't want to answer, but how far did he get?" If he's not ready to tell them yet, if he'll never be ready, then he'll understand.

Hiccup doesn't answer and while he's told them he never went "all the way", "not all the way" still seems to be pretty far.

He wants to cry again. The memories running rampant inside his mind, the non-existing hands that refuse to leave him, they make tears gather in his eyes.

He's in pain and has been for much too long. He feels like he's been on fire this entire time and that someone is finally putting out the fire.

It's with a mere cup, but it's a start.

Managing to look at his friends, Hiccup cautiously gazes at them all, fearing judgment as he finally bares it all.

Astrid reaches and takes his hand, squeezing it lightly. Perhaps, it's time to talk and let his family in.