#finally got to watch the new drama I mentioned earlier and I can tell I’m going to like this one🙏🏻

[bewitching-666]

(:

[tomorrowxtogether]

SOOBIN: “I thought I should just try to shine as I am.”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.11

He once strived to become a lush, towering forest. But he realized that people will love him for exactly what he is—a deep, rolling ocean. And so, he decided to remain as whom he always has been: an ocean named SOOBIN.

You took a trip to Vietnam earlier this year with BEOMGYU. I heard you planned the whole thing. SOOBIN: I’m usually the kind of person who just goes around without a real plan, but since we don’t get much vacation time, I figured we’d better go all out and do everything we could in one go, so I tried planning it all out. (laughs) BEOMGYU just wanted to go with the flow, but there was a ton of stuff I wanted to do.

I’m sure it’s not easy taking a trip or spending your off time with the same people you spend all your time with. SOOBIN: I hang out a lot with the rest of the group on my own time too, though. Three of us were all hanging out together just yesterday. To be perfectly honest, it doesn’t feel like anything special since we’re always together 365 days a year, but I’m also most comfortable around them for the same reason.

Sometimes people start bickering with each other when they get too comfortable with one another, but you’re always so kind—like how you gifted BEOMGYU with a nap in that “The Perfect Way to Rest” video when you remembered he was feeling tired. SOOBIN: I think I’m good at picking up on things. I don’t know if I can do it with everyone, but at least with the other members of the group, I’m pretty good at telling how they’re feeling or if they’re not feeling well. As soon as I see one of them, I can tell, Oh, he looks a little rough today, or, He’s sure in a good mood today. (laughs) If they seem down, I go over to them to find out what’s wrong and talk it over.

Your kindness also comes across when you’re with animals, like in the “OUR TOMORROW” video, where you took care of one dog who was so nervous that it didn’t get a chance to eat any treats. Have you always been drawn to people and creatures that are small and left out? SOOBIN: So, so much. In fact, I was really shy and struggled to fit in when I was a trainee. I was really lonely at first. So when time passed and I finally got accustomed to things, if I saw another trainee who was shy and couldn’t adjust, I felt like looking out for them. Kai was among them. (laughs) That’s how I ended up becoming really close with him.

You talked about the cat your sister adopted recently, explaining how it used to be shy because it had a hard life in the past but that it finally opened up this year. SOOBIN: I went to see the cat when my sister first got it, but I couldn’t even see it that first time—it just hid under the couch. It was so shy that I thought I’d never get to pet it, but the last time I saw it, it came right up to me and started purring, wanting to be petted. It was able to overcome its painful past and open up to my family thanks to all the love they show looking after it. Love really does have the power to change anything. (laughs)

You also said on weverse LIVE recently that you made a new friend who you can talk about dramas, movies, and books with. SOOBIN: For me, dramas and movies don’t end with watching them—after you’re done watching, that’s when things are just getting started. I always look up reviews and analyses online. People can watch the same thing and they’ll all have their own thoughts on it, so I’m curious about all those different views, and now I have someone to talk about that with. They know a lot more about books and movies than I do, so I end up learning a lot when we’re sharing our thoughts together. Just having a friend to share my interests with is really fun.

You mentioned talking about Inside Out 2, and you looked at how it features a place to store things you’ve heard that you want to keep for a long time, which got you thinking about what sort of things you would want to hold onto. SOOBIN: I kept recalling things my friends say after we hang out—things like, “SOOBIN, I’m so happy we’re friends,” and, “I feel great whenever I’m with you.” Hearing things like that really touches my heart. Seriously, how often do you get to hear things like that in life? I used to find expressing things like that awkward and weird, but thanks to my friends, I’m getting used to saying I love and appreciate people. You empathized with how Anxiety works harder and feels more anxious than others because they want to be good at things. Are there things you feel you should work harder at than other people? SOOBIN: I’m actually slower at learning choreography compared to the other members. I assumed I’d get a lot better after debuting and regularly performing onstage, but progress was slower than I expected. I didn’t say anything about this before, and I even kept it a secret from the other members, but I actually got separate choreo lessons on the side when we were doing “Chasing That Feeling” and “Deja Vu.” We’d take lessons as a group, and then once I was alone I’d always spend about an hour dancing and working on the little details. I tried so hard with those two most recent songs that I even practiced on my own like that. Seeing as I’m slow, I have to work harder to keep up with the other members. If I have more time, I want to practice more for this comeback, too.

With all the touring you’ve done and the encore performances you have coming up, it must’ve been really hectic getting ready for your Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback. SOOBIN: The schedule was really tight this time around—we even had to record vocals in Japan in the middle of the tour since we were in and out of the country—but now that we’re in our sixth year, the five of us were all really fast about things. I could sense that we had grown compared to before since we were faster at recording than we could’ve expected to be in the past and it took us less time to work out the details of the choreography.

The album’s subtitle, SANCTUARY, is a word that’s appeared in TOMORROW X TOGETHER albums before. What’s been your sanctuary these days? SOOBIN: I never used to have a sanctuary, which made getting through tough times hard, but I do now: simple things like working out or reading. It feels like the things that break me away from overthinking and let me immerse myself in something else are my sanctuary.

You were complimented on your previous promotions for your improved vocals and high notes. What about on this album? SOOBIN: Actually, every other album we’ve done had a song in a genre I wasn’t confident in, but not this time. The single “Over The Moon” is really laid-back, and I felt like it was perfect timing for us to try out a song like that. What’s unfortunate is that I caught this horrendous cold during recording. We started practicing for live performances recently, and the director said, “SOOBIN’s singing better than he did when recording. He makes it sound effortless.” So I couldn’t help but think about how much better I could’ve done if only my throat had been in better shape.

You always focus a lot on lyrics. Were there any on this album that have stuck with you in particular? SOOBIN: This album isn’t so much about telling some big, sweeping story as it is about everything we’ve been through together. Now that we’ve been through all that chaos, it’s about the universal emotion of love, which everyone can relate to, and I liked that about it. There’s a line in “Higher Than Heaven” that sticks with me that goes, “I think I kinda get what forever means now.” I even once said, “I never used to believe in the word ‘forever,’ but I think I can now, thanks to our fans.” I didn’t write that part, but it’s like it was written to perfectly capture my feelings.

The other members have probably had an impact on your belief in the word “forever,” too. SOOBIN: I’m pretty sure we’re going to grow old together and that we’ll be together till the day I die. We do the same thing and basically live the same life day in and day out, so we know what makes each other cry the most during concerts, too. Whether it’s my tears of happiness or BEOMGYU’s tears of disappointment from a leg injury, having friends to understand and share those feelings with is nice. They’re all just really kind people—calm and clear, like a stream. None of us is domineering or splashing around, disturbing the peace, and nobody’s dirtying the water, so I think we’ll be able to stick together for a long, long time.

You said before that you had found being onstage tough while touring. Now that you’ve already wrapped up your third world tour, do you still find that to be the case? SOOBIN: I think I’m getting better over time. I still can’t say that I completely enjoy myself, but the worries I used to have before going onstage have gone away entirely. There used to be times where I found it hard to watch myself onstage because I didn’t like how I looked, but now I see myself up there and I think I look cool. (laughs)

The way you have a different outfit on for every sound check when you’re on tour is definitely cool. SOOBIN: For fans who come even though they’re busy, showing up hours before the concert just to wait, doing it purely out of love, I wanted to be more stylish, so I bought a lot of clothes just for sound checks. The glasses-plus-cardigan combo was something I bought in advance for summer, and the reaction from the audience was amazing! They showed me on the big screen and MOA was screaming their lungs out—like, not the usual “wow,” but, “aah!” Like shock and awe. (laughs) I was worried I went overboard with the look, but they showed they liked it, so I was happy.

There’s no way not to bring up your cover of the Choi Yu Ree song “Forest” when talking about you. You said that the people around you are like tall trees in a forest and that you thought you’re one of them, but that you figured out you’re actually more like the ocean. SOOBIN: It’s easy to find people around me who are better looking and sing and dance better than I do. I actually started thinking about that at Lollapalooza. The other members looked so happy and like they were having so much fun onstage, but I couldn’t. I felt eaten up inside seeing myself not being able to fully enjoy it because of all the pressure. Then I heard Choi Yu Ree explaining that “Forest” is about feeling like you’re not good enough and I thought, “Ah, so that’s what I’ve been going through.” I started to understand my emotions a little bit better. Everyone ends up comparing themselves to others at some point in their lives—it’s unavoidable. And they have times where all they can see are the things they hate about themselves, but it’s ridiculous. I was overflowing with negative feelings when I was working on my “Forest” cover, and I wanted to sort of deal with those feelings and express them.

The music video echoes your thoughts that someday you’ll come to shore and become one with the forest. What does the forest mean to you? SOOBIN: Just being a singer who’s good at singing and dancing, interacting with my fans, enjoying performing, and being able to do it all with complete sincerity. I think I was showing how the forest to me means being happy with the other members when they’re happy. Nothing big—just simple things I’m not always that good at.

Do you feel more like a forest now that some time has gone by? SOOBIN: Umm … I saw a ton of comments from fans after I covered “Forest.” My mindset when I was doing it was, Right now I’m like the ocean, but I’ll become a part of the forest just like you guys—so wait for me until then. But once I saw what fans were writing, I changed my mind and thought, Do I really need to become a part of the forest? I could be similar to the forest, but I don’t have to change myself to be one. My fans kept saying, “The whole reason we liked you in the first place is because you’re like the ocean, not because we hoped you’d become like a forest. If that were the case, we’d like somebody else. Why do you think it was you?” The ocean comes with its own perks, you know. You need to have some ocean near a forest to add to the scenery and have more things to do. Now I think maybe I tried too hard to fit in by trying to be like the forest. Now I feel like I can shine bright just by being myself.

That lines up with what you recently said in an interview you did in Japan when you said that your 20s, the best and most energetic time of life, are dazzling and fun thanks to knowing MOA. What do you think you’ll see when you look back on this youthful period of your 20s? SOOBIN: Joy. Every moment of our lives is packed with good times and bad times, joy and sorrow, but in the end, I think, I’m on a path towards joy. Even things that are so agonizing that you want to die—so bad you feel like the whole world is against you, and so bad you’re certain they’re weighing on you forever, eventually pass.

Doesn’t it almost feel funny sometimes, looking back after all that? (laughs) SOOBIN: Yes. It ends up feeling so trivial somehow. Things that felt massive at the time are like a speck in the distance once you get even a little space between them and yourself. Even after all the hardship I went through being a trainee, I can look back now and see there were a lot of good times. Maybe we tend to romanticize the past a bit? (laughs) Even some of the stuff I’m going through now can be tough, to be honest, but I’m never going to give up. There’s still so much I want to give. The amount of joy I derive from doing this is way higher than the amount of difficulty. I think my life’s amazing, even right now.

So amazing. (laughs) SOOBIN: I think so too! (laughs) As time goes on and I get older, when I look back on my youth, my time with TOMORROW X TOGETHER, I wonder if it’ll look that much more shiny and amazing. Maybe I’ll feel I was even cooler at this time than I feel I am now.

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Meeting The Real You (Chapter 12)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12

AO3 story link

word count: 34,203 (😳)

CONTENT / TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF SUICIDE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ PAST THE WORDS "YOU'RE THE BEST" (HIGHLIGHTED GREEN IN STORY) NEAR THE END OF THE CHAPTER IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO OR CANNOT READ THAT KIND OF CONTENT

_______________________________

“So…regarding all those incredibly gay songs I heard you singing in the shower yesterday. While you were doing that—you know, drenched from head to toe, butt naked, serenading the shampoo bottle with that hypnotic voice of yours—were you thinking about me?”

Peter clapped a hand over his beet-red forehead and laughed into the howling wind. “Johnny!” he cackled.

“What? It’s a valid question! A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will suffice. But if you say no, we’ll both know you’re lying. Admit it, Webs: you were totally thinking about me.”

“Your audacity knows no bounds,” Peter scoffed. The chilly air whipping past them did nothing to cool the bashful heat sizzling across his skin, or the impenetrable warmth of Johnny’s supernatural flames. The biting cold and freezing wetness had finally abandoned Peter’s gaunt frame and skin-tight suit, replaced instead by a full-body blush that tingled at the tips of his ears and blazed across his face at Johnny’s every playful remark—which showed no signs of slowing down. 

“What about when I caught you watching me work out on the roof a few days ago?” Johnny pressed him, a knavish grin slashing across his lips. “Was seeing me all sweaty and shirtless in person everything you dreamed it would be? Were you frothing at the mouth beneath your mask?”

“I—are you hoping I was?” Peter giggled helplessly. 

“Duh! I’m hot as hell and deserve to be objectified as such! I need to know how badly you’ve wanted me during each interaction we’ve had so I can confirm which one of us is the bigger simp.” He leaned in close enough for Peter to map the galaxies within his grayish-blue eyes, his upturned lips grazing Peter’s cheek as he spoke. “How about those fun little internet stories I mentioned earlier? Y’know—the self-insert ones where you can pretend you’re doing things with me that aren’t exactly PG? Ever find yourself reading any of those, Spider-Man? Don’t worry, I won’t judge. Some of them are actually really well written! They’ve got drama, angst, suspense, plot twists, weird sex terminology I’m too scared to google—”

“Oh my god,” Peter groaned into his palms, dropping his head against Johnny’s shoulder. “I don't know who's more psychologically deranged: you for reading so much of that shit, or your fans for writing it.” 

Johnny raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Well?” he prompted him. The Human Torch clearly wasn’t letting him off the hook without a proper answer. Peter loosed a long, skittish sigh, then threw his hands up in defeat.

“You know what? Fine. Yes, yes, and yes. For all your questions, the answer—tragically—is yes.” He flicked Johnny under the chin then crossed his arms against his chest, eyes pinched shut in shame. “Happy now?”

Johnny lit up with delight and disbelief. “Wait—seriously? You’ve read porn about me?”

Peter nearly choked. “No! I mean—not really. I was just…curious if you were telling the truth or not back when you mentioned it while tending to my wounds. I only got through two paragraphs of one story before closing out of all my tabs, clearing my browsing history, and debating whether or not to chuck my phone into the Hudson.” He jabbed a finger into Johnny’s collarbone. “Your fans are sick, sick people, Torchy.”

Johnny tossed his head back with a boisterous laugh. “Spidey’s read pornographic fanfiction about me,” he wheezed. “Holy shit. No contest, then.” He cinched his arms a little tighter around Peter’s body, holding him bridal-style, the city of New York a roaring blur of light and color far beneath them. “You’re definitely a bigger simp for me than I am for you.”

Peter burned scarlet but held his ground, the eye lenses on his mask narrowing into tiny slits. “You’re probably right,” he admitted shyly, smile widening. “But according to all the internet crazies commenting on the videos you’ve been posting, you’re the one who’s most obviously crushing on me, not the other way around.”

“What?” Johnny gawked, the flames in his hair flaring outwards and flashing pink. “No way! Are people actually saying that?”

“Only obsessive weirdos who probably assume you’re into anyone you’re seen spending more than five minutes around,” Peter clarified. “No actual reporters or credible new sources or anything. Still.” He draped the back of his arm across his forehead and fake-swooned for effect. “From their point of view, Spidey’s the one who’s got the Human Torch absolutely smitten.”

Johnny responded by digging the fingers curled protectively around Spider-Man’s torso into his rib cage, making the smug vigilante shrink inwards with a giggly shriek. “While the fans may not be wrong,” he stated matter-of-factly, enamored as always by the spider-themed hero’s shrill and explosive reaction to a few keenly-aimed pokes, “you, my friend, have an unfair advantage. Your mask hides all of your expressions!” He bopped the tip of Spider-Man’s crinkled nose. “It’s a lot easier to conceal your feelings from the world when no one can see your face. I don’t have that luxury.”

“Dohon’t!” Peter squeaked, prying Johnny’s fingers off his side. He met the Human Torch’s playful, affectionate gaze, ribs still tingling as an unsettling realization dawned on him. There was something Peter needed to ask Johnny. He wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to know the answer just yet, but it felt strange and dishonest to keep it to himself. Swallowing down his laughter, he gave the bottom of his Spider-Man mask a nervous tug.

“Is this…weird for you?” he asked hesitantly. 

Johnny frowned, not understanding. “Is what weird for me?”

Peter tapped the smooth glass of one of his eye lenses. “This. I mean…hanging out with me, doing the things we’re doing…all while you have zero idea what I look like.” He swallowed, failing to dislodge the newly-formed lump in his throat. “Is it…I don’t know. Strange? Uncomfortable?”

Johnny pressed his lips into a line as he considered Peter’s inquiry, hunching his shoulders just slightly. “I guess it is a bit…unusual. Can’t say I haven’t been curious to know who you really are for a while now. And I’d certainly love to see your real face, if you’re open to sharing that with me.” He smiled down at him, eyes soft and sparkling with firelight. “But I understand if you’re not ready to do that just yet. I am notoriously shitty at keeping secrets, and I know how important this one is to you.”

Peter’s insides pinched with uncertainty. “I know you think you like me now,” he said. He rested his hand on top of Johnny’s, which was wrapped securely around his upper arm. “But what if I take off my mask, and that changes?”

Johnny blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“What if you don’t like the way I look? What if you think I’m ugly?” Johnny may have called him “pretty boy” on the two occasions they’d met while Peter was maskless, but who’s to say he didn’t call every guy or fan he met something similar? The Human Torch defaulted to flirting in the same way Spider-Man wielded humor: it was a shield, a deflection, something intended to hide the truth rather than reveal it. Just because he’d claimed to think Peter was pretty didn’t mean he actually meant it. 

“Oh my god!” Johnny laughed. “Don’t say stuff like that! You do realize there’s more things I like about you than just your appearance, right?”

“But looks are important to you,” Peter insisted tentatively. “I know they are. And I need you to understand that I am not like you. Not even close. I mean—just look at you.” He lifted his hand to Johnny’s face and brushed a strand of golden hair out of his eyes, coaxing a rosy tint to the surface of the celebrity��s freckled skin. “You’re beautiful. Like—the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen ever. You look like what would happen if someone went on one of those image-generating AI websites and asked it to spit out a picture of the most beautiful human being in the world.” 

Johnny giggled sheepishly, taking Peter’s hand in his and holding it against his color-stained cheek. Beautiful, the Human Torch thought wistfully. Most people used far cruder language when complimenting Johnny’s appearance. While he’d never complain about being called “hot” or “sexy” or “seductive” by his fans, the press, or even Spider-Man, it softened something in him that the webhead admired him in a way so tender and sweet and innocent compared to what he was used to—and perhaps a tad less inappropriate and predatory. 

“That’s really how you see me?” Johnny asked, heart glowing like a candle flame. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Peter’s pulse got away from him at the way Johnny was looking at him right now—a boy whose face and form made angels sigh across every dimension of the universe. The word felt too simple, too inadequate to describe what he saw when he looked at Johnny Storm. But if calling him beautiful made him smile and blush this way every time, Peter planned on saying it much more often.

“Yeah,” he eventually replied, timid but sincere, “I really do.” The masked hero’s stomach flipped-flopped inside him with bottomless adoration, then calcified when he remembered what he’d been trying to explain to him in the first place. He gently pulled his hand away from Johnny’s face, balling it into a fist against his chest. “But I can’t say the same for myself,” Peter continued meekly. “The fact is, on my best days, I’m average-looking. I don’t have effortlessly voluminous hair or flawless skin. I don’t have picture-perfect teeth or eyes the color of ocean waves. I still get breakouts every other week. My hair looks like a rat’s nest most days after wearing my mask for hours on end. My eyebrows are permanently uneven since my left one has a scar sliced right down the middle of it; shoutout to the Shocker for that. Plus, my face is kinda squishy, not at all chiseled or hot, and my nose is a bit crooked since I’ve broken it at least five different times now, and—”

“Spidey,” Johnny cut in, silencing him with a kiss that he pressed to his lips through the thin fabric of his mask, effectively ending Peter’s self-conscious rambling by tripping the breakers in his brain. His heartbeat fluttered like hummingbird wings as Johnny pulled back and held his gaze, pained endearment carved into his angular features. 

“Seeing the real you will only make me simp ten times harder for you,” he assured him with a chuckle. “I know it. I promise.” He brushed a second kiss to the apex of Peter’s jawline just below his ear, the sensation sending swarms of butterflies stampeding through his organs in a flustered tornado of emotion, transforming the teen hero into a blushing, pathetic creature he did not recognize, but didn’t necessarily hate. 

“And don’t worry—you’re gonna get the glow-up of a lifetime being with me.” Johnny whispered the words with his forehead against Peter’s temple, practically breathing them into his skin. “I’ll set you up with the perfect daily skincare routine, and as for your hair—oh, wait!” Johnny lifted his head and flashed a sunny grin. “I’ve seen it already! It’s really cute! From the back, anyway. I love curly brunettes. Not only that, but I can tell your face shape is incredibly flattering even through your mask. You’ve got a great baseline for me to start with and mold into a total masterpiece.”

Peter chuckled and blushed and bled with joy despite the fangs of insecurity driving deeper into his throat. Being the object of his crush’s barefaced affection after doubting the reciprocity of his feelings for so long made every act of intimacy and fondness Johnny bestowed him with strike like arrows from Cupid’s bow straight to the vigilante’s hopeless heart. Peter finally had the one thing he’d so desperately wanted—yet the fear of losing it all once Johnny saw Spider-Man’s true face cast storm clouds across his soul as dark as the ones overhead. Before he could refute him with more anxious uncertainties, Johnny nuzzled his face into the sensitive bend of Peter’s neck, causing the vigilante to yelp.

“EEK! Johnny!” He pushed frantically at his head, bubbling with high-pitched giggles. “Someone is gonna seehee!”

“I can’t help it!” Johnny giggled along with him. He squeezed the spindly hero closer to his chest, the bright sound of Spider-Man’s laughter like a drug he could feel himself growing more and more addicted to by the second. “It’s been torture wanting to do things like this but having to hold myself back! I need to make up for lost time! Physical touch is my number one love language—closely followed by acts of service—and I’ve got a whole backlog of unrequited affection I have to get out of my system!” 

Johnny slipped through Spidey’s defenses and protests and attacked his neck with quick, aggressive kisses, the masked hero’s laughter humming like magic against his lips. “Not to mention how goddamn adorable your laugh is,” he added with smug amusement. “How can you expect me to care about anything else when your little spider-giggles are that fucking cute?”

Giddy with laughter and mirth, Peter was caught severely off guard by a voice suddenly speaking to him via the headset installed in his suit. “Pete? Can you hear me?” it said, causing Spider-Man to flail and leap right out of Johnny’s arms.

“Wah!” he cried, making Johnny shout and flinch at the same time. Peter fell a couple dozen feet before snagging a web-line to the top of a high-rise, buoying himself to the side of the building. 

“What? What is it?” Johnny exclaimed feverishly, dropping to a hover on Peter’s left, alarm etched across his face. The cold and rain seeped into Spider-Man’s flesh like talons of ice, eager to reclaim him now that he was free of Johnny’s supernatural warmth. 

The Human Torch’s question was answered by what sounded like a jet engine barreling towards them from the north. The teens glanced up to see a streak of red and gold banking between skyscrapers, a flash of lightning glinting off its shiny metal exterior. The unidentified flying object was upon them in seconds, whipping to a halt before the two wide-eyed heroes, rain pinging off the iconic armor and infamous helmet.

“What the hell, kid?” Tony Stark snapped, voice distorted and slightly more intimidating as it rang out from the Iron Man suit. “Do you get some sort of sick kick out of scaring the living bejesus outta me? Can you not get through one superhero outing without setting off your vitals monitor and sending your stand-in guardian into cardiac arrest? Why is it that whenever you two hang out, the singular super-teen I’m responsible for always comes out of it with another near-death experience under his belt?” 

Johnny and Peter exchanged a quick look, relieved they hadn’t been caught fawning zealously over each other, but now under fire for an entirely different reason. The young heroes turned towards the billionaire, diffident smiles plastered across their lips. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark…” Peter murmured with a wave, tipping his head to one side. “Wow! Is that a new Iron Man suit you’re wearing? I really love the design! So sleek and cool and futuristic-looking and slimming and—”

“Don’t push it, kid,” Stark shot back, silencing the vigilante in record time. Iron Man drifted closer to Peter and scanned him up and down, a weary sigh slipping from his lips. “Are you all right?”

Peter swallowed and nodded, running a nervous hand over the side of his neck, which still tingled with feeling from Johnny’s greedy kisses. “I’m fine,” he assured him quietly. “Just a little chilly. And still slightly waterlogged.”

“Is your side okay? I told you not to push yourself too hard just yet.”

A lick of unexpected irritation swept through him. This was, approximately, the billionth time his mentor had pestered him about his bullet wound this week. It had been over five days since Peter had been shot. He was a superhero with elevated healing abilities; Mr. Stark knew this. He had to realize by now that he was more than fully recovered. So why was he still so insistent on badgering and babying him all the damn time? 

“Of course it is,” Peter retorted sharply. “I told you already; I’m back 100%. Fully healed. No pain.” He ran a hand over his abdomen with a scowl. “You can stop hounding me about it already.”

Tony Stark scoffed incredulously. “Forgive me, your asshole of a mentor, for giving a shit about your wellbeing.” He gestured to the shivering teen with a bitter flick of his hand. “Do I even want to know what circumstances led to you throwing yourself in the ocean and almost drowning? What the fuck were you thinking?”

Peter shuddered in the icy downpour, mulling and toiling over how to respond. “W-well—” he began, only for Johnny to tap in before he could stop him. 

“I can answer that,” the Human Torch chirped eagerly, cutting between the two of them. Dread seeped into Peter’s limbs as Johnny laid a melodramatic hand across his chest. “You see, I was really upset after Ben mentioned that my douchebag ex-friend was back in town, and Spidey here was worried about me. Worried enough to leap into the bay to try to reach me—or so I thought.” Johnny cut a smirk in Peter’s direction. “After I pulled him out of the water, I quickly realized what Spidey’s actual motive was for finding me: to beg me to help him get with that girl he’s been making goo-goo eyes at since the beginning of the summer, me being an expert at scoring dates and wooing babes.”

Peter clapped a palm over his face with a muffled groan. Stark studied the flaming teen with dubious amusement. He’s an even worse liar than Pete, the Avenger discerned with a snort. 

“Lucky for him, I’m happy to bequeath my tried and true flirtation techniques unto others, and also share some of my super-warmth with shivering dumbasses prone to hypothermia.”

The glowing slits of Tony’s Iron Man mask leered between the two teenagers, his voice heavy with exasperation. “Remind me to force you to reinstall your suit’s heater,” he said to Peter. “I knew giving you free rein on your costume design was a mistake. It’s like you’re allergic to anything that has practical, life-preserving applications.”

“All that excess hardware adds, like, ten extra pounds to my costume!” Peter protested. “It was slowing me down, restricting my movements!”

Johnny blew a raspberry. “Says the guy who can lift eight tons without even breaking a sweat.”

Peter threw Johnny a dirty look before continuing. “According to my calculations, tacking a bunch of unnecessary gear to my suit has far more drawbacks than benefits. As far as my day-to-day crime fighting goes, my speed and agility help me keep others out of harm’s path much more consistently than any other tools at my disposal. All that added deadweight is a major liability!”

“All that ‘added deadweight’ was put there to keep you safe,” Stark shot back. “Did you ever stop and think that if you made your suit stronger, with more crisis-tolerant features, you wouldn’t have to be so goddamn dependent on your speed and dodging powers all the time? That you being faster than your opponents wouldn’t be the only thing standing between you and devastating injuries—or worse?” Iron Man gestured towards himself, the arc reactor in the center of his chest humming with power. “If I got dropped into the ocean or shot at while wearing this armor, the worst thing I’d have to worry about is buffing out some scuff marks, or—I don’t know. Maybe a new paint job.” He jabbed a finger at Spider-Man. “But you in that flimsy, useless leotard have to deal with bullet wounds, near-drownings, and other deadly consequences I’m opting not to speak into existence at the moment. I mean—just look at you right now! You’re soaking wet and freezing!”

Peter Parker rolled his eyes. “Am n-not,” he said, cursing the treacherous chatter of his teeth. “And hey—lay off the threads, man! Just ‘cuz you subscribe to maximalism and disaster prevention and safety protocols doesn’t mean I have to! You said I could make my suit however I wanted! So I went for something light, modest, and simple. And I didn’t get rid of all the fancy features you put in the original design—just the heaviest ones!”

“What part of a skin-tight bodysuit qualifies as modest to you?” Johnny asked with a snicker. “Besides, Tony has a point. If you have the means to make a suit that better protects you from being hurt, why wouldn’t you?” 

“Oh, you mean like your equally impractical and skin-tight uniform?” Peter retorted pointedly.

“Whenever Reed is able to invent a sturdier fabric that won’t burn off every time I turn my flames on, I’ll happily switch to a more protective suit. But for now, I’m stuck with this one: the only outfit I can wear while using my powers without flashing all of humanity.”

“Your fixation on simplicity is gonna end with you dying a very preventable death,” Stark persisted coldly. “The only reason I’m alive today is because I’m always expecting the worst and arming myself accordingly. It’s idiotic not to for folks who do what we do.”

Peter recalled the news clips he’d watched as a kid of Stark’s old mansion in Malibu being blown to bits by an enemy bomb strike, followed by the harrowing reports of his idol’s supposed demise, then the story of the billionaire’s miraculous survival, along with all the other times the Avenger had saved himself, Peter, and countless others from the merciless jaws of death, and huffed out a breath of defeat. 

“Nobody’s telling Black Widow or Hawkeye their suits aren’t practical or protective enough…” Peter grumbled. “And those two don’t even have any super powers!”

“They’re fully grown master assassins, not clueless 16-year-olds with half-baked frontal lobes who think themselves invincible.” Tony smiled at the kid’s pouty posture and beckoned the two teens forward with a wave of his metal hand. “Come on—the others are waiting on us. We’ve got another team-building exercise planned for everyone. Since you're so sure that you're fully healed already, I'll forgo my better judgement and let you participate. If you’re somehow still not convinced by now of how important it is to be prepared for anything, I’m certain what’s in store for you today will change your mind.” He hovered close enough to pinch the sopping fabric of Peter’s costume between his fingers. “Besides. Another minute out in this weather, and you’re bound to catch a cold.”

Peter muttered a few choice words under his breath, but his hands and feet had gone numb to the point of quelling all further arguments on the matter. 

“Could I make us some hot chocolate first?” Johnny asked with a sidelong grin at Peter. “Spidey made me promise to make him the best hot chocolate ever once we got home.” He slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor across the vigilante’s icy flesh. “Not because he’s soaking wet or freezing cold or anything. Oh, no. He’s obviously fine, and clearly doesn’t need some stupid heater to keep warm. Turning into a Spidey-shaped ice sculpture is a much better option than adding a couple extra pounds to his suit.”

Johnny eyed Peter with a feisty giggle, and even though the flaming teen was poking fun at him quite rudely, Peter looked at the Human Torch and felt his heart stumble into the rungs of his rib cage. He likes me, he reminded himself, a thrill spurring through his veins, transfixed by the beauty of the boy smiling back at him. He likes me more than a friend. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for his brain to accept that as reality. 

As time slowed around him, Peter’s eyes drifted down to Johnny’s lips, and he started thinking about how badly he’d like to kiss them again. Maybe this time around, he wouldn’t be so reserved and cautious. Maybe he’d let his mouth fall open up a little wider. Maybe he’d let his teeth graze the delicate softness of Johnny’s lower lip. Maybe he’d let Johnny’s tongue slip deeper inside, tasting him the way he’d felt it wanting to, all while Peter tasted him right back—

“I’m afraid hot chocolate will have to wait,” Stark chuckled, ripping Peter out of his wantonly steamy trance, blush and embarrassment beaning him over the head like a baseball bat. He’d never had thoughts like that about anyone before. It startled him how easily his mind went off on salacious tangents when it came to Johnny Storm. “We’ve already kept the others waiting long enough.”

Spider-Man swallowed forcefully. “That’s okay,” he sputtered out, shoving Johnny’s face away in a way he hoped came off playful and platonic. “Like I said: n-not that cold.”

“You’re a moron,” Johnny laughed, peeling Peter’s clingy fingers off his forehead. The three superheroes sailed across the city together to bridge the short distance between them and Avengers Tower, the frigid winds clawing at Peter’s skin through every web-swing. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter watched the Human Torch soar beside Stark beneath the low-hanging clouds, fondness and dread bleeding through his entrails. To think he was worried about Johnny being the one who wouldn’t be able to hide his affections from the others. Keeping this new and exhilarating development in their relationship a secret was going to be a lot harder than he thought. 

_______________________________

For the third time in the past five minutes, Johnny caught himself gazing longingly at the red and blue superhero on the opposite side of the training arena, every pulse of his heart sending bursts of starlight through his bloodstream, all the fluid in his veins replaced by liquid sunshine. 

So this was what it was like to have your crush like you back. Johnny didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life. He was no stranger to throngs of girls throwing themselves at his feet, tearfully professing how ardently they adored him—or worse, fellow celebrities of varying ages and professions cornering him at parties or in dressing rooms, their wandering hands and whispered promises sordid enough to send Sue on a sisterly killing spree if she ever found out; not that he’d tell her about that.   

But this was different. This was something pure and real and mutual. This was something making it extremely difficult for him to focus on anything except the next time he could steal the vigilante away and do everything he’d wanted to do to him since the moment his feelings for the masked hero had taken root. The words and kisses he and Spidey had shared on the rain-slicked crown of the Statue of Liberty replayed again and again on the backs of his eyelids, rendering him distracted and ditsy and overflowing with excitement. If anyone was watching him right now as he ogled Spider-Man from across the room, Johnny imagined he’d have little flaming hearts dancing and twirling off his scalp. 

“Where were you last night?”

Johnny’s head snapped forward like he’d been backhanded, color permeating his startled expression.

“Huh?” he said, blinking the fairy lights from his eyes. His sister stood in front of him, brows pinched together suspiciously. 

“You weren’t in your room last night,” she explained. “I came by to say goodnight, but you weren’t there.” 

Johnny blinked again, his brain hazy and love-drunk. “Last night?” he parroted her. Forming a coherent response in his current state felt like grasping at fog with his bare hands. “I…oh! Right! I accidentally fell asleep on the couch. Watching Love Island. And editing TikTok videos. On the 78th floor.”

When Sue just raised an eyebrow at him, Johnny shrugged. “Don’t believe me if you want. But that’s the truth. Check the cameras if you’re that paranoid.” He winced internally as that last sentence left his lips. If she did find a way to look up the footage from this morning, she’d see how Johnny had cuddled up to Spider-Man all night long like a clingy little puppy. Not exactly a great start to keeping their relationship a secret.

“And what’s got you so smiley all of a sudden?” Ben asked with a scowl. “I thought you were gonna burst into tears when I brought up Sam earlier. Now everything’s peachy keen again?”

“You do seem a lot more chipper than usual,” Reed chimed in, filling up a bottle at the water station by the control room. His gaze slid past Johnny’s shoulder, eerily close to where he knew Spider-Man was standing, then jumped back to the Human Torch, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Any particular reason as to why that might be?”

Johnny’s heart threw itself against the back of his ribs with a screech. Had they truly already figured it out?

“What?” he exclaimed shrilly. “No!” Heat flared off the nape of his neck. “I’m not chipper, whatever the hell that means! I’m just—looking forward to whatever this training thing is that we’re about to do. That’s all! Is that so wrong? Why are you all interrogating me right now? Just—shut up!”

The three heroes studied the flustered teenager bemusedly. There were many things Johnny Storm excelled at. Keeping secrets and masking his feelings evidently weren’t included in that list. Reed drowned a chuckle behind a sip of water. 

Eager for a change in subject, Johnny turned back to his sister. “Did you cancel the interview with Sam yet?” he huffed. “Or are you seriously gonna make me talk to that asshole again?”

Sue stretched her arms across the front of her body, bending her left elbow to press her right arm against her chest, then swapping. “I never set it up in the first place,” she answered simply.

“You didn’t?” Johnny said, puzzled. “Why not?”

“I only planned to organize it because I thought you’d want to see him,” she clarified. She rolled out her wrists and ran a hand through her curtain bangs. “But when Ben said you didn’t, I was relieved.” 

Johnny frowned at her. “But…Sam saved our lives. I thought you of all people would be drooling at the opportunity to film a segment with him. Who knows how long he’ll be here, or if he’ll ever come back after he leaves?” The Human Torch crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Is this some kind of weird reverse-psychology thing you’re trying to pull on me?”

Sue’s expression hardened. “Sam said awful things to you. You weren’t yourself for months after your last conversation with him. Not even gaining superpowers was enough to cheer you up. I’ll always be indebted to him for saving my family, but that doesn’t make him any less of an insecure, homophobic piece of shit.”

Surprise plucked at Johnny’s heart. Sue was well versed in defending the people she cared about from physical or reputation-related threats. But as far as their feelings went? Expecting the Invisible Woman to care about something as trivial as that was like expecting an oil executive to give a damn about global warming. But Johnny’s misery following the cruelty and loss of his friend must have jarred his sister enough to cure her of her emotional constipation—if only temporarily. 

“I’m glad you’re over him,” she stated, eyes sharp. “You deserve better than what he had to offer.”

Before Johnny could fully digest how much her words meant to him, a loud whistle sliced through the air, dragging everyone’s attention to where Natasha Romanoff stood in front of the arena's viewing room, dressed in her battle gear with an impressive array of weapons tucked along her waist, arms, and legs. 

“Hi,” she said with a smooth grin. “We’re gonna get started now.” She bobbed her chin at her teammates in the center of the arena. “Tony will explain.”

“Only because I’m anal about minutiae and details,” Stark clarified, hovering above the practice field. The Iron Man helmet crawled off his head and disappeared into the back of his suit, exposing his well-groomed features and charming smile. “Plus, I designed this game myself, so I’m very interested to see how each of you fare against the different challenges I’ve come up with.”

Tony tapped a button on the forearm of his armor, activating a projector that displayed a 3D holographic animation overhead to accompany his presentation. “The concept is pretty straightforward,” he said. “One member of the Avengers will be paired up with a member of the Fantastic Four. The two of you will work together to overcome obstacles tailored to your specific abilities in order to save a captured civilian—AKA, a crash dummy—before time runs out.” An image of a crying stick figure trapped inside a cage appeared beside the two heroes depicted in the projection. “Use your combined strength and intellect to get past the obstacles and rescue the captive within fifteen minutes, and you win. Fail to retrieve the civilian before time runs out, and you lose.” 

The hologram fizzled out of existence as Stark swept his gaze across the spattering of heroes. “This challenge is all about teamwork,” he went on. “Each of us needs to learn how to navigate dangerous situations and deal with time-sensitive crises creatively, effectively, and as a team. This little game isn’t going to get us all there in one go, but it is a fun first step.” He crossed his arms against his glowing chest. “Make sense?”

The two groups nodded in unison, a breeze of curiosity and excitement stirring through the atmosphere. Johnny tried to pretend like he gave a shit about this dumb team-building exercise, but the celebrity’s faculties were wholly engrossed by the spider-themed hero stealing glances at him from afar, and how desperately he wanted to be somewhere alone with him, out of reach from his teammates prying stares. 

“Since two of our teammates have already taken it upon themselves to pair up and seek out trouble twice now, I think it’s only natural that we stick them together and let them kick things off for us.“ Tony turned towards Spider-Man, who flinched a little when he jabbed a finger at him. “Spidey, Johnny, you’ll go first. I’m sure we’re all eager to see how the two of you work together in action. Everyone else, head to the viewing room.”

The teens shared a look of surprise as the rest of their teammates filed past them. Ben made sure to bump his shoulder into Johnny’s as he went by, snickering. Spider-Man jogged across the arena to meet the Human Torch on the south side of the field, his movements hesitant and timid as he slowed to a stop before the flaming hero.

“Hey again,” Spidey greeted him skittishly. Against his will, Johnny‘s stomach swirled with affection, mouth splitting into a massive smile.

“Hey,” he chuckled. Warmth crept into his face as his hands twitched restlessly at his sides. The events of the morning stretched taut between the two heroes like strings on a bow, along with an awkward amount of space neither party could find the courage to breach. The vigilant stares of both of their teammates burned like cigarettes on the back of Johnny’s neck, causing sweat to break out across his skin. 

Spidey shot a glance at the viewing room on their right, then moved to stand by the Human Torch’s side, facing forward with his shoulders set and his spine straight.

“So…” Spider-Man said, voice low but playful. “Come here often, hot stuff?”

Despite his best efforts, Johnny busted into a laugh, shaking his head from side to side. “Shut up, you loser,” he giggled.

“Wait, wait, I can do better than that. Somebody call the fire department, ‘cuz this guy is smokin’.” 

“Is this you attempting to flirt with me? Corny pickup lines and cheesy one-liners? You really think that’s the key to my refined and sophisticated heart?”

“Well? Is it working?” Spidey asked in whisper, the words curling upwards just like the goofy smile Johnny knew he was wearing. The Human Torch rolled his eyes. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbled fondly. The two of them kept their faces and bodies angled forward as they spoke, daring not to show any physical displays of affection with so many eyes on them. 

“Pretty lousy atmosphere for a first date, if you ask me,” Spidey continued, quiet and coltish. “Some orchids or candles would’ve been nice.”

“You want to count this as our first date?” Johnny whispered back. “I was planning to take you somewhere with much better ambiance and way fewer older sisters around. Maybe rent a gondola and a string quartet or something. But if you’d like, we can always save that for date number two.”

Spider-Man shrugged. “Either way. Your idea does sound a lot more romantic than the humiliation ritual we’re about to be subjected to...”

Johnny ventured a look at the rows of heroes sitting in the viewing room and grimaced. “Especially with my teammates watching,” he said gravely. His gaze swiveled to his feet, and he swallowed. “I am so not good at this ‘keeping secrets’ thing, Webs. I really like you, and am obviously terrible at hiding it.” His hands knotted into fists at his sides. “So if you’re set on keeping this thing on the down low, we’ve really gotta sell the whole ‘platonic super bros’ shtick. We can’t do anything that even suggests that we like each other like that. Not with them watching us like fish in a bowl.” 

Spidey faced him then, head drooping a bit. “I’m sorry I’m making you lie to your teammates,” he murmured. ”I know firsthand how complicated it can get.”

“It’s all right. I lie to them about all kinds of stuff all the time.” Johnny smiled apologetically. “I just wish I was better at it.”

Spider-Man scratched the back of his neck. “Lucky for us, we’ll probably be too busy getting blasted by drones or pummeled by robotic thugs to do anything remotely romantic-y looking while we’re in here.”

Johnny elbowed him in the side. “Well, double lucky for us: we’ve done this exact drill in real life already, and won. I can’t imagine fake thugs or drones being any harder to beat than those insane kidnappers we fought.” Mischief tugged at the corners of his lips as he tucked his hands politely behind his back, raising his chin and tracing his gaze along the outline of Spidey’s throat. “And after we win this,” Johnny added, “I’m gonna drag you somewhere no one will bother us and spend the rest of the afternoon sucking on your neck until it’s all one big hickey. Sound good?”

A noise sputtered out of the masked hero that sounded like a cross between a cough and a squeak. Johnny clapped him triumphantly on the back as he strolled forward, whispering in his ear as he close as he dared as he passed by. “Best leave the flirting to the professionals, bug boy.” 

Johnny walked towards the center of the field but stopped as the floor began to move and quake beneath him. The ground suddenly split open at his feet, making the teen jump back in surprise, revealing a large pool of water that spanned the width of the battlefield and stretched the length of a basketball court. Hexagon-shaped panels that encompassed every surface of the arena started to glow blue and flip inward, transforming the walls and ceilings from sterile gray to pitch black. While beams of light shot out from devices in each corner of the room, altering the appearance of everything they touched, thick concrete pillars sprouted out of the floor and stretched into the tangle of metal rafters zig-zagged across the ceiling, looking crumbly and ancient and structurally unsound. A musty, damp taste choked the air, like no one had stepped foot in this place in over a hundred years. Within moments, the space around them was converted into what looked like an old, abandoned warehouse, complete with dilapidated scaffolding, haphazard piles of rusted canisters, and moldy wooden crates. The pool at Johnny’s feet was so dark, he couldn’t even see the bottom. 

“Whoa,” Spidey exclaimed, joining him at the water’s edge. “I forgot how realistic the different simulator settings for the arena can look. I don’t think I’ve seen this one before.”

“Is everything in here real? Or just an illusion?” He knelt down and dipped his fingers into the pool. It was real all right—and bitterly cold. 

“What we’re seeing is mostly a projection, but on top of real objects.” To demonstrate, Spider-Man kicked one of the metal barrels stacked to their right across the room. It hit the wall with a clang that sounded convincing enough. Johnny reached out and touched the pillar closest to him, palm scraping along gritty concrete. He’d never interacted with virtual reality tech this advanced before. Even the smells were immersive. The rhythmic drip of some distant, leaky pipe echoed across the fictitious warehouse.

“Wicked,” Johnny breathed. At the very back of the room, the hapless crash dummy they were tasked with saving was pinned to the wall, each of its limbs bound in metal chains. Johnny wondered which method would free the civilian faster: melting the cuffs with the heat of his flames, or tearing them apart using Spidey’s super strength. Fire blazed across his body as he turned to the masked hero with a shrug. “So, should we start? Or do we have to wait for the battle drones to appear?”

The shrill whirr of high-tech thrusters sent a prickle down Johnny’s spine. The Human Torch glanced up just as two armored men jetted above their heads, the turbulent wind they generated making Johnny wince and shield his face. The metal suits eased to a hover over the middle of the large pool, the dark water rippling away from the bottoms of their feet.

But these weren’t drones. 

“Mr. Stark?” Spidey called in surprise. “Mr. Rhodes? What’s going on? Are we both running through the exercise at the same time or something?”

Iron Man placed his metal fists on his metal hips. “Oh, did I forget to mention?” The smug grin on his lips dripped from his voice as clear as day. “No drones this time. Rhodey and I are the ones you have to get past in order to win.”

The jaws of the two teens dropped to the floor. “Oh shit,” Johnny hissed. The battle bell clanged through the air, and Stark turned to his teammate with a nod.

“Ready, fellow villain o’ mine?”

“After you, Tones.”

Stark flexed both hands at his sides, the repulsors in the center of his palms powering up, then shot towards Spider-Man like a golden bullet. The vigilante let out a yelp of alarm.

“Wait—seriously?” Spidey cried, then jerked sideways just in time to dodge Iron Man’s swinging fist. Whatever happened next, Johnny didn’t see; as he whipped forward to face War Machine, he was met head-on with a blast of icy water. 

“Agh!” he yelled, the powerful stream knocking him backwards and sending him tumbling across the floor. The fire encasing his body fizzled out in a hiss of smoke. Dripping wet, he rolled into a sitting position and lifted his gaze to find James Rhodes floating above him, the hose in his hands aimed threateningly at the teen. 

“Not so tough once you get a little damp, huh?” War Machine taunted him, leaning into the “bad guy” charade a tad too heavily for Johnny’s taste. Surprise roiled to anger in the Human Torch’s gut. He bared his teeth, willing heat outwards from his soaked skin, then scrambled sideways with a shriek as another surge of water shot out from the nozzle. Johnny suddenly understood what being a bug beneath a garden hose felt like as he fled on foot from the armored man, who was cackling as he chased him. 

“Uh, Mr. Stark? Are you pissed at me or something?”

Peter ducked as a repulsor blast splintered the wall where his head had just been, then sprung onto a concrete column as Iron Man’s flying fist narrowly missed his torso. The buzz in his skull throbbed like a second heartbeat. The pounding of his pulse thundered through muscle and bone. 

“Pissed at you?” Stark inquired, rocketing after him as he scaled the pillar. “Why would I be pissed at you?”

“Why else would you be trying to beat the shit outta me right now?” 

Iron Man smashed through the column with his shoulder, forcing the masked hero to leap onto the ceiling as it crumbled to the floor in powdery chunks. 

The Avenger chuckled lightly, dusting himself off. “You said so yourself: you’re back to 100%, right? Then you should have no problem at all taking on an old, decrepit man like me.” A ray of concussive power shot out from Tony’s palm. Spider-Man dropped from the rafters and rolled across the floor to a crouched position, dodging the shattered pieces of metal that rained down on top of him.

“But I’ve never fought you before!” Peter stammered shrilly. “You‘ve never asked me to! Why start now?”

Stark tore a rusted beam off the ceiling and barreled towards the teenager, swinging the makeshift weapon with all his might. Peter caught the metal rod in his hands before it could bash his head in, eyes wide as they met the glowing, lifeless slits of the Iron Man mask, muscles straining against the armor’s tremendous strength. 

“I figured it’s about time I took a more hands-on approach to your superhero mentorship,” Tony explained, driving the beam closer and closer to Peter’s throat. “You think you’re strong enough to survive out there long-term using only your powers to protect you? You think the safety nets and contingency plans I designed to keep you alive are overkill and unnecessary? Then prove it. Prove that you can beat me by sheer grit and raw talent, and I’ll stop ‘hounding’ you about being safe and taking care of yourself all the damn time.”

Peter’s chest seized. Shit, he thought. So they were really doing this. Spider-Man had to fight Iron Man. As if an arachnid-themed teenager in spandex had any chance of defeating a flying, A.I. equipped tank with over a decade of battle experience—let alone surviving the endeavor.

Pivoting, Peter beared down and used Stark’s strength against him, shoving the metal rod up and then slinging it to the side, sending Iron Man flying with it. The Avenger flipped midair and leveled out with a surge from his repulsor boots, regaining his balance with ease.

“Spidey!” Johnny called to him frantically. Peter turned to find the celebrity sprinting around the arena like a soaked chicken with its head cut off, ducking and leaping and darting every which way as Rhodes doused him with water from the thick hose in his hands. He watched the poor teen slip and fall onto his stomach, a look of panic on his face. “I’m too wet to ignite! Help!”

The scene was amusing enough that Peter almost wanted to laugh, but their teammates in the viewing room were likely doing enough of that already, and Johnny was clearly in desperate need of assistance. He snagged a line of webbing to the ceiling and swung after him, sights set on ripping that pesky hose out of Mr. Rhodes’ hands. “I’m coming!” Peter hollered. “Hang on! Just—aaagh!”

A sound struck him then, shrill and explosive, like a hundred bombs going off inside his brain. The web-line slipped from his fingers as his hands flew to his ears, a cry of pain punching out of him that he couldn’t hear over the roar of noise. He hit the ground with a harsh thud, the agonizing sound refusing to quiet, his body screaming for it to stop. 

When the horrible noise did finally cease, Peter pried his eyes open to find Iron Man standing over him, his glowing palm aimed at the vigilante’s face. “Lesson number one,” Stark stated pompously, his voice faint and muted to Peter’s ringing ears. “Don’t turn your back on your opponent, especially if your opponent is me. Also, fun fact about all that ‘deadweight hardware’ you took out of your suit: part of it included input dampers that could activate automatically to protect you from debilitating sensory attacks. Might’ve been a nice thing to keep installed for situations like this; wouldn’t you agree?”

Before Peter could attempt a response, his aching head throbbed in warning. As the masked hero flew to his feet, a blast from Tony’s hand repulsor struck him in the gut, knocking the wind from his body and sending him careening into the wall farthest away from where the chained civilian sat. He was lucky Stark had set his gauntlets to stun; a real repulsor charge from that close of range would have fried a hole clean through his torso. Nonetheless, it still hurt like a bitch. 

“Son of a…” Peter groaned, falling to his knees with one hand gripping his belly. His vision swirled with nausea and pain as he fought to catch his breath. A moment later, Johnny slammed into the corner on his left, a surge of water from Rhodey’s hose pinning him to the wall for a few seconds before easing off. 

“For fuck’s sake!” Johnny spat, whirling around with his hands bunched into fists, his whole body completely drenched. His cheeks burned pink with frustration. “Enough with the goddamn fire hose already!”

“I’ll stop using it when it stops working so well,” James chuckled. Iron Man floated to his side and gave his friend a metallic high-five. As Peter clambered to his feet, a neon blue line sliced across the floor a couple yards in front of him and Johnny, separating them from the two armored men. 

“This area is your designated safe zone,” Tony explained, gesturing to the line. “As long as you stay on that side of the boundary, we won’t attack you. You can use this space to strategize, recuperate, or hide like cowards until time runs out. This is also the boundary you’ll need to cross with the rescued captive in order to win—not that I anticipate you soft-skinned tadpoles getting anywhere close to winning.”

Peter’s blood flashed with irritation. “You know, I was trying to be nice earlier,” the masked hero panted. “But the truth is, I don’t like your new armor at all. It’s bulky and unflattering and painfully overdone and adds ten pounds to your figure. And I hope it chafes like hell.”

Stark and Rhodes just laughed, which only made him more irritated. “And yet, I’m still kicking your ass in it,” Tony jeered, making Peter bristle. “I guess that’s what happens when you prioritize function over aesthetic.”

“We’ll be waiting over here whenever you’re ready for more water-logging and ass-kicking,” Rhodes remarked, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. Then the two Iron Men flew to the center of the pool, hovering above it and chatting casually like Spider-Man and the Human Torch were hardly even a threat.

Johnny marched to the edge of the boundary line, slicking his hair out of his eyes as smoke plumed off his scalp. “I’m gonna take that hose and shove it up his shiny metal ass,” he growled. But Peter stopped him with a hand around his wrist.

“Johnny, wait,” he said. When the Human Torch turned to face him, his irises blazed with fire. “Trust me: I’m just as eager as you are to make those geriatric buckets of bolts eat their words. But we can’t take the bait.” Peter nodded towards the clock on the wall. They’d already managed to burn off four of their precious fifteen minutes. “They’re trying to get a rise out of us so we’ll waste all our time fighting them instead of saving the civilian so we can win.”

“Well, it’s fucking working,” Johnny grated out. Weak flames crackled off his shoulders. “So we better come up with a plan to win this thing fast before I start pelting those tin cans with fireballs for ten minutes straight.”

Peter scanned the layout of the warehouse-themed arena. The two main obstacles between them and the captive were the large pool and the deadly pair of armored men standing guard. If one of them could keep Stark and Rhodes occupied while the other freed the crash dummy, maybe there was a chance they could secure the civilian and get across the finish line without taking too much damage. But they’d have to move exceptionally quick. 

“Okay, this is what I’ve got,” Peter said sotto voce, rubbing gingerly at his stomach. “You’re gonna make a mad dash for the captive, doing whatever you gotta do to get across the pool. While you work on melting through the cuffs, I’ll fend off the metal grandpas and try to keep them distracted. I’ll protect you for as long as it takes for you to free the dummy, then we’ll both fight like hell to get all of us back on this side in one piece.”

Spider-Man turned to Johnny expectantly, waiting for his input. The Human Torch just glowered at him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re really stupid a lot of the time.”

Peter hunched his shoulders and wrinkled his brow. “Hey! I’m just spitballing ideas here!”

“Well, your ideas suck major dick,” Johnny snapped. “You seriously think you can take both of those guys at once all by yourself? They’ll tear you apart! Stark will just scramble your brains with whatever migraine-blast thing he hit you with before, leaving Rhodes open to spray me with more water, rendering both of us useless—again. They’ve armed themselves with ways to directly nullify our powers, and no part of your plan acknowledges that or how you expect us to overcome it.”

The masked hero grimaced. “Well if you have any better ideas you’d like to share with the class, I’m all ears, Torchy! We don’t have time to sit here and craft the perfect rescue plan! We just gotta keep cracking at it until we find a way that works.” 

Johnny huffed indignantly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “And this right here is exactly why you’re constantly getting hurt and nearly dying all the time. You just throw yourself at whatever enemies or problems are standing in your way without any preparation or strategizing or consideration for your own wellbeing.” He flicked water from his gloved fingers, cutting a glare in Peter’s direction. “Tony was right about you. You’re weirdly adverse to things meant to keep you safe and protect you from harm. You should seriously consider taking your mentor’s advice for a change.”

Incredulous, Peter pealed into a bitter laugh, clasping a hand over his eyes. “Oh my god,” he bemoaned. “Are you actually lecturing me about ‘protecting myself from harm’ right now when you still haven’t posted the apology to Fisk yet? I’ve told you a million times how dangerous he is and how this could help protect you from him, but you won’t listen to me! You don’t care!” He turned his back to Johnny with a scowl. “Don’t go reprimanding me about ignoring the advice of those with our best interests in mind when you do the exact same thing with me and your sister.”

“Posting that apology goes against every principle I stand for!” Johnny shouted. “Me refusing to do that is completely different than you diving headfirst into danger or removing protective hardware from your suit just ‘cuz—what? It’s slightly heavier?” The teen let out a caustic scoff. “Be so fucking for real right now, Webs. That’s the most pathetic, bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

When Spider-Man blatantly ignored him, Johnny shoved him from behind for good measure, making Peter whirl on the Human Torch lividly. “And quit taking sides with Sue on everything! My sister hates you!”

“But she doesn’t hate you!” Peter shot back. “And neither do I! Both of us care about you and want to keep you safe! Do you know how awful I’d feel if Fisk did something to you because of me? I’d never forgive myself!”

Johnny threw his hands above his head in disbelief, tears shimmering in his dark blue eyes. “Well if you’re so torn up simply from the idea of him hurting me, then imagine how I feel! Having to watch you get beaten and shot and eviscerated by the media because of him, all while you and Sue tell me to sit by and do nothing about it—or worse, to apologize to him after his men almost killed you!” Fire raged across Johnny’s skin, evaporating all remaining water from his flesh, lighting up the dim room like a volcanic eruption. “That’s not who I am, Webhead! That’s not who I ever want to be!”

The two teens stared each other down, frustration and tension cleaving open their raw hearts and original wounds. Something about this floor of the tower always managed to set their tempers to boil, although the disagreement blazing between them today was much different than the one they’d had during their first spar. Back then, the pair had fought because of how viscerally they despised each other. But now, in the musty air of this faux-warehouse, they were fighting because of how painfully they cared.

Peter eyed the clock on the wall again, then released a weary sigh. “Are we gonna try to win this thing? Or would you rather waste all our time yelling at each other some more?” 

The Human Torch set his jaw, rising off the floor and spiraling away from him. “You know what?” he seethed. “I changed my mind. Your stupid plan sounds perfect. Let’s go for it. I’m all in.” He crossed the glowing boundary line, shooting Peter a cold glare over his shoulder. “One condition, though: I’ll be the one who fights off the bad guys all by myself while you go save the dummy. Is that cool with you?”

A shiv of alarm plunged into the masked hero‘s heart. Peter jogged after the flaming teen, shooting anxious glances between him and the armored men. “Johnny, wait—”

“What? You asked for my input; there it is. I’ll go distract them, launching myself into a fight I can’t possibly hope to win, and you can retrieve the dummy. Why would it matter which one of us takes on which role?”

“Because I have enhanced reflexes!” Peter reminded him fervidly. “And my spider sense! And a healing factor! You don’t have any of those things!”

Johnny faced away from him with a scornful laugh. “Well, tough shit. I’m going anyways. And you can’t stop me.”

With that, the Human Torch gunned it straight for the two metal guards above the pool, smoke and ash trailing in his wake. Peter shot a thread from his wrist and raced after him, dread hammering through his skull.

“Hey old timers!” Johnny hollered as he approached, turning both Avengers’ heads. “Eat my flaming fists!”

Rhodes let loose another torrent of water, but Johnny was ready this time. He swerved out of the stream���s path and shot a blast of fire at War Machine’s hands, knocking the fire hose out of his grip. Without the threat of being doused slowing him down, Johnny went on the offensive, pelting Rhodes with fistfuls of flame that drove him back a few feet, but did not inflict much damage. Iron Man returned fire with bates of concentrated power from his palm repulsors, which Rhodes quickly mirrored. Johnny was evading both of their attacks pretty well and hitting them with an impressive volley of fireballs, but he didn’t have the arsenal needed to incapacitate opponents like this. All of his fire-themed blitzes glanced harmlessly off their impenetrable armor, doing nothing but tiring Johnny out the longer the fight went on.

To Johnny’s credit, he was doing a great job keeping them occupied. Peter swung from one side of the pool to the other without either armored assailant paying him any mind. As he landed on solid ground, he looked back at the three battling heroes with a twinge of fear and uncertainty. Why aren’t they trying to stop me? he wondered. At that moment, Stark got the drop on Johnny while Rhodes had him on the ropes, zipping in from the sidelines to sock Johnny right in the cheek. Peter flinched and gasped as Johnny’s head snapped sideways, the flames on his body guttering weakly. He barely managed to stop himself from dropping right into the water, his heels skirting the pool’s surface.

“Johnny!” Peter cried in dismay. He didn’t care if it drew attention to himself. His crush had just been punched in the face by his mentor’s metal fist. He had to make sure he was okay. Peter ran to the edge of the pool, aiming his wrist at the ceiling, but Johnny slung a fireball in his direction before he could activate his web-shooters, making the vigilante jump to the side in surprise. 

“Don’t help me!” Johnny shouted furiously. “Save the civilian!” Despite having just sustained a really bad blow, he launched himself back into the fray with an admirable lack of hesitation, zooming past the colonel and swinging a flaming kick into Stark’s stomach. But the hit probably hurt Johnny more than the billionaire. 

Peter’s chest ached with worry as Johnny‘s fight with the armored men continued to escalate. He was making his point loud and clear to a precariously committed degree. You want to know what it’s like to watch someone you care about throw themselves into danger with zero regard for their own safety? Let me show you. He knew how angry Johnny would be if he charged in to save him instead of fulfilling his part of the plan. The only way to stop him from being hurt any worse without thoroughly pissing him off was for Peter to free the captive as fast as possible. So, feeling sick to his stomach, Peter turned his back on his friend and ran towards the chained-up dummy, grabbing hold of the cuffs locked around its wrists. 

But right as his hands made contact with the metal bonds, the ear-splitting sound Stark had hit him with before crashed over him like a deafening tsunami, sending him crumpling to the ground in agony. He scrambled back from the captive, ragged gasps sawing out of him as the assault on his senses subsided, the torturous pain blaring through his brain easing somewhat without completely disappearing.

“Shit,” he grated out. He stood, kneading at his temples, scanning the dummy up and down. There must be some kind of device or speaker that activated when the chains were touched. That’s why Stark and Rhodes weren’t coming after him: ‘cuz they knew he wouldn’t be able to free the civilian. Not with the trap they’d rigged to render him paralyzed and useless anytime he tried. Irate, Peter backed away from the captive and aimed his web-shooter at the leftmost cuff, snagging a strand to the restraint in hopes he could rip it off the wall from afar. But the moment he started tugging, the mind-numbing noise drilled through his skull once again. 

Peter tore the web-line from his wrist with a shout of pain and frustration. “Dammit!” he cursed, pinning his palms over his ears long after the sound had ceased. Tears stung his eyes as his head pounded and swam. The harder he fought them, the harder it became to keep them contained. Because this was what Stark wanted. This was what he saw him as. A weak little kid who needed his protection. A boy unfit for the Avengers without a mountain of Stark tech to make him useful. Someone out of his league and in over his head and incapable of saving anyone with what little power the universe had gifted him with, including himself. 

As Peter wallowed in his shame and inadequacy, a cry of terror cut through his thoughts and the cotton clogging his ears—loud enough to make him turn his throbbing head. His eyes found Johnny just as a repulsor blast from Iron Man’s palm struck him in the chest mid-air, sending the teen spiraling out of control and crashing to the concrete floor on the opposite side of the pool, gripping the spot he’d been hit as pale flames lapped off his body. 

Peter’s muscles went taut beneath his skin. Hurting him in pointed and degrading ways was one thing. But hurting Johnny? Even if he was still kinda mad at him, Peter couldn’t bear to see him beaten senseless like this by his own teammates. As much as it stung to admit, maybe Stark was right. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to protect others and himself against opponents this powerful using only his natural abilities—especially when they knew how to exploit his weak points so acutely. Maybe he should consider adding back some of the contingency features he’d removed from his suit, so long as they didn’t slow him down too much. But right now, nothing was going to stop him from defending the Human Torch from sustaining further injury. If he could only protect one of them with his measly spider powers, he’d make sure it was Johnny. 

Ears still singing with pain, Spider-Man broke into a sprint across the dusty warehouse floor, hooking a thread of webbing to one of the metal barrels perched in the corner. When he reached the edge of the pool, he used his momentum to swing the barrel in circles above his head, spinning like an athlete in a hammer throw competition before letting the projectile fly. The canister sailed with perfect precision and struck Stark with a spine-rattling bang, knocking him into the right wall of the arena. By the time he and Rhodes had whirled around to face him, Peter was already web-slinging to the center of the pool and hooking a line of spider’s silk to War Machine’s chest, grabbing hold off the taut thread with both hands and whipping it downwards with all his strength. The webbing ripped Rhodes right out of the air and slung him into the dark water below. With the fleeting element of surprise on his side, Peter plastered Tony’s helmet with sticky silk, buoyed himself towards him, and swung a punch in the dead center of his mentor’s metal face. 

Which, in Peter’s defense, he did feel slightly bad about. But Mr. Stark was the one who’d orchestrated this entire humbling exercise in the first place, and clearly wasn’t pulling his punches or holding back. If he had no intention of going easy on his foes, neither did Peter. 

Plus, the bite of pain the hit raked across his own knuckles suggested the armor was doing a decent job taking the brunt of the blow. 

Iron Man wobbled in the air as he struggled to maintain his balance, visibly ruffled. Peter flipped onto the ceiling, shaking out his smarting hand and eyeing Johnny where he lay bunched in a ball on the floor. 

“Johnny! Are you okay?” he called to him. The only response the Human Torch offered was a low moan. A repulsor blast whizzed past Peter’s nose and blew the light fixture on his left to bits. Glass and sparks rained down into pool beneath him as he jerked his head around.

“That was some punch, kiddo,” Stark said, tearing webbing off his helmet as he hovered closer. “Good form.” A beam of red-hot energy shot out from Iron Man’s forearm, sending Peter racing across the ceiling to escape its destructive path. The teen flipped around a low-hanging rafter and launched himself at his mentor a second time, hurling a kick at the arc reactor in his chest. His heel struck exactly where he’d intended—but the armor absorbed all the power of his strike, sending a painful zing up his leg as tiny shards of glass and metal burst away from the impact site. Peter realized his mistake too late as Tony’s iron gauntlet closed around ankle. 

“But fists and feet don’t fair so well against titanium and steel,” the billionaire chuckled. With Peter’s leg locked in his grip, Iron Man spun around and flung Spider-Man into the wall. Peter’s back collided against unforgiving concrete, every vertebrae flashing with pain, spots flickering in his vision as he dropped into the pool with a splash. For the second time that day, cold like none he’d ever experienced penetrated his bones and choked his lungs. Peter clawed for the surface, a shuddering breath tearing from his throat. At least the icy water helped snap his senses back into focus.

“If you were wearing the Iron Spider suit I’d made for you,” Stark continued goading him, “perhaps you’d have a slightly better chance of defeating me. Or at least getting a few decent hits in.”

“You b-bastard,” Peter hissed through chattering teeth, limbs shivering as he crawled up the wall and out of the pool. “Hurting my friend and m-making my ears bleed wasn’t enough for you? Did you really have to add ‘give Spidey hypothermia again’ to that list?”

“A built-in suit heater sure sounds nice right now, doesn’t it?”

“Denting your f-face plate some more sounds nicer.”

Peter’s head buzzed in warning right as War Machine burst from the water hardly a foot in front of him, his metal fist swinging straight for Spider-Man’s chin. Peter caught his hand before it could strike him and twisted it to the side, drawing a squawk of surprise from the man in the armor. As Peter kicked him hard in the stomach, Rhodey raised his free hand towards the masked hero’s face, and Spider-Man’s vision suddenly went white. Searing light detonated directly into his eyeballs, making him cry out and grasp his eye lenses. Fucking flash bombs! he cursed in his mind, unable to shake the blindness or the pain no matter how much he rubbed or blinked. The only thing protecting him from the flurry of punches Rhodes was slinging his way was the sharp tingling in his skull screaming at him to move. Dodge left, right, down, up! Block now, jump now, duck now, run!

Out of options and peppered in bruises, Peter flung himself at Rhodey and stuck to his chest, scrambling blindly over his shoulder and winding up on his back. He wrapped his arms around the armored man’s neck and squeezed—hard. Rhodes gagged and coughed, grappling with Peter’s forearms as they choked him, his metal fingers biting into the vigilante’s skin. 

“Sorry, Mr. Rhodes!” Peter exclaimed, tightening his grip even more while the metal man flailed about. “But you’re kinda being a dick right now!”

As the two heroes scuffled and brawled, Peter’s vision slowly started coming back to him in patchy, overblown fragments. But it wasn’t returning fast enough, and there were too many warning tingles coming from too many different directions for him to evade every threat for long. 

“Tones!” Rhodey sputtered out, the reactors on his gauntlets heating against Peter’s skin. Peter fought not to let go at first, gritting his teeth against the scorching pain. But a wild throb in his head alerted him of a particularly dangerous hazard flying at him from behind. He tried releasing his hold on War Machine’s throat so he could dodge whatever it was in time, but found himself trapped in Rhodes’ grip. The armored man had turned the tables on him! He was keeping him in place, not letting him escape. Before Peter could tear free of his grasp, a dreadfully familiar ping rang out uncomfortably close to his ear, followed by an explosion of agony in the center of his back. 

“Gah!” Peter screamed, muscles spasming, his skeleton turning to glass inside him. For the next few seconds, he couldn’t seem to move his limbs. The pain was devastating. White noise enveloped his mind. He feared for a moment that his spine had been snapped in two. One more of Stark’s repulsor charges shot from point blank range like that, and he’d black out for sure. Stars danced across his patchy vision as his body reeled and ached. Now that Spider-Man was no longer suffocating him, Rhodes seized Peter’s arms just below his elbows and flung him over his head. The masked hero vaguely felt himself sailing across the room and waited for the crack of his bones against concrete. 

When he finally did hit something solid, it was weirdly warm and much softer than he expected. Peter peeked his stinging eyes open to find himself cradled in the arms of the Human Torch, who was breathless and kneeling and coated in dim flames. The two of them were on the ground, not the air; Johnny must’ve been too battered and winded to fly. Despite this, he’d still managed to break his fall. He’d caught him. 

“Gotcha!” Johnny huffed out. Then his eyes snapped upwards, and his smile dropped. “Oh, fuck me.”

Peter followed his gaze down the nozzle of the fire hose that was now aimed directly at them. Rhodes must have retrieved it while the pair were distracted. Peter squirmed to try and block Johnny, but water plumed from the tip before either teen had a chance to move, crashing into them like a bullet train made out of liquid. Shrieking and sputtering, the two heroes were blasted across the arena in a bushel of bruised knees and scuffed elbows, rolling and tumbling across the floor until their bodies met the back wall, a symphony of groans rising from their tangled, dripping forms. Once again, Spidey and Johnny had been pushed behind their designated boundary line: safe for now, but back to square one.  

“Tough break, boys,” Tony called to the moaning mass of mangled teenagers. “Better luck next time.”

“Only seven minutes left,” Rhodey reminded them breezily. “Things aren’t looking so great for you or poor Mrs. Chained-Up Dummy back there.”

Snickering, the armored men returned to their stations above the dark pool, leaving the two young heroes to soak in their failure as they gingerly unraveled themselves from one another, wincing and hissing in pain.

“Owww,” Johnny whimpered, dropping back on his haunches, gripping his face in his hands. “Oh god. My everything.”

“Are you all right?” Peter asked raggedly, reaching out for Johnny’s cheek. His entire body felt like one gigantic bruise. His eyes still burned from the flash bomb, but his back and shoulders hurt worst of all—every muscle surrounding his spine pulsing with nauseating pain. His fingers hovered just above Johnny’s delicate skin, scared of touching him for more reasons than one. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Johnny lowered his hands from his face, his picturesque features pinched tight with discomfort. Courtesy of Mr. Stark’s fist, a bright red welt was already forming on his freckled cheek, tinted purple along the edges and very swollen. On top of that, his left eye had a small bruise just below his brow bone, and his bottom lip was split right down the center, glistening with fresh blood. He must’ve taken a few other hits to the face that Peter hadn’t seen. 

“Fucking hell,” Peter exhaled in dismay, covering his mouth with his hand. “Johnny…”

“Is it bad?” he asked meekly, prodding at his puffy cheek. The sight of him all bruised and bloodied minced Peter’s heart into jagged chunks of regret and shattered something inside him he never knew could break.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said. He hung his head, balling his hands into fists on top of his knees. “You put yourself through the wringer so I could save the captive, but I couldn’t do it. I’m not…I w-wasn’t strong enough...”

“Shit. It’s bad, isn’t it?” Johnny palmed his face with a groan. “Goddammit. I have a music video I’m supposed to star in in two days! I can’t show up on set looking like this! What am I supposed to do now?”

Despite the guilt weighing over his heart, Johnny’s disjointed priorities brought a frail smile to his lips. At least he wasn’t too hurt to fret over something besides his appearance. Peter wrapped the Human Torch’s hand in his own, then quickly dropped it, remembering with a prick of fear where they were and who all was watching. A sigh slipped from his lips as the vigilante shook his head.

“Why did you do that?” he asked. 

Johnny frowned at him, gnawing at the cut on his lip. “You know why!” he snapped. “Now you understand how I feel watching you launch yourself face-first into fights and situations we both know could kill you! You’d rather risk your life getting beaten to a pulp than let anyone else be the hero for a change! I’m sick of it!” He cupped his cheek and gritted his teeth. “Ugh! My stupid face! I can’t even yell at you properly without it hurting!”

“Then stop yelling,” Peter couldn’t help but giggle. “Just take it easy for a sec.”

“No,” Johnny shot back bitterly. “I’m not stopping. Not until I know you’re actually hearing me.”

Peter held the celebrity’s icy glare and swallowed thickly. With a long breath out, he folded his legs underneath himself, criss-crossing his ankles on top of each other with his hands bunched in his lap. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, worrying his frozen thumbs in his lap. Serrated fish hooks sank into his heart, yanking it violently in five different directions. “I told you before: working alone is my baseline. I’m still figuring out this whole ‘teamwork’ thing. I’m not used to having anyone else around to deal with a threat except myself. As far as superhero stuff goes, I guess it’s hard for me to…depend on others.” 

Peter picked at the charred fabric on his forearms where Rhodey’s gauntlet repulsors had burnt him. “Anytime I’ve hesitated to intervene when something bad was happening in the past, people have wound up dead. Good people.” His voice wobbled a little, an age-old grief waking from deep inside him and raking its claws down his throat. “My uncle…y’know, the one who raised me like his own and whatnot…he was murdered. He died because I looked the other way when somebody needed my help. A couple weeks after getting my powers, a man I was pissed at was being robbed, and I let the thief get away. I didn’t even try to stop him, even though I very easily could’ve. I thought, ‘This isn’t my problem. Why should I step in to help someone I hardly know and don’t even like?’ So I didn’t. I let him go, feeling vindicated in my decision. And then that thief that I let escape ran outside and shot my uncle in the chest, who was waiting in his car to pick me up.”  

Hesitantly, Peter raised his eyes to meet Johnny’s. He wasn’t surprised to find them welling with tears, yet the sight still tugged at his heartstrings the way it always did. It had been over a year since he’d told anyone that story. Even though the lessons the death of his uncle had taught him were chiseled into his soul, integral to who he was, never to be forgotten, it wasn’t pleasant reliving the details of his most shameful and devastating memory. The sight of the man he’d seen as his father slumped in the driver’s seat, gagging on his own blood. The way Peter’s body had gone numb and cold. How Ben had been trying to tell him something, but was too far gone to get the words out. The sound of his heartbeat slowing to silence as Peter’s sobs echoed through the vacant streets.

“Since that day, I don’t let myself hesitate when someone is in trouble,” he explained quietly. “If a person is in danger or something bad is happening, I have to step in. I have to be the one who risks getting hurt to stop others from suffering and dying. I have to put my life in danger if that means someone else gets to live another day. Having this power means I have a responsibility to help people whenever and however I can. That’s what my uncle taught me. That’s the whole reason I became Spider-Man. This is who I am.”

Johnny was full-on crying now, which made Peter’s need to comfort him that much harder to resist. Tears streamed down the celebrity’s bruised face, staining his cheeks with dark, damp trails. Peter wondered if their teammates could see them from where they were sitting across the room.

“You never told me that,” Johnny sniffled, eyes wide and watery and brimming with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

The corners of Peter’s mouth lifted into a pained smile. “I don’t like making you cry,” he said solemnly, kneading at his achy shoulder blades. “I feel like I’m always making you cry.”

“Then stop having such a sad life!” Johnny wept. He wiped aggressively at his tears, but they refused to stop flowing. He shook his head and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, running his tongue over the split in his lip. “I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he croaked. That’s…a horrible thing to go through. Neither of you deserved that. First your parents, and then…” 

He trailed off, voice wavering. Peter hung his head, gripping his left forearm rigidly, unsure what to say. Heavy silence stretched between the two teens. When the Human Torch finally lifted his gaze to meet Peter’s, he exhaled listlessly, red-rimmed eyes shining with resolve. 

“I know how important protecting people is to you, even at the expense of yourself,” he said, mopping his chin with the back of his hand. “Despite how much it stresses me out and pisses me off, it’s something I really admire and love about you. You’re a remarkably selfless and brave person. Your aunt and uncle raised a good human being.”

A rush of warmth hit Peter’s cheeks. The word “love” leaving Johnny’s mouth to describe something the celebrity felt towards Peter made his tummy flutter and his heart double in size. Then Johnny jabbed an index finger between Peter’s eyes, making him flinch and blink.

“But you don’t have to carry that burden all by yourself anymore,” Johnny chastised him. “You have people you can lean on who want to fight by your side and on your behalf. People like Tony and me and the rest of your teammates—and people like the citizens you’re committed to protecting. We care about you and want to help you reach your goals and be happy.” Johnny poked gingerly at the bruise beneath his eyebrow, hissing through his teeth. “But we can’t do that if you won’t let us. Or worse—if you’re dead. You’re strong, Webs; stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. But your power has limitations just like everybody else’s. You alone can’t save everyone. You have to recognize that and let us lend a hand when you need it rather than pushing yourself past your limits all the time. You have to give other people the chance to step up and be the sacrificial hero every now and then. It doesn’t always have to be you.” 

Tears slipped relentlessly down Johnny’s cheeks as he reached out and took Peter’s hand from his lap, brushing his thumb across his bloody knuckles in delicate zig-zags. “Your life is just as valuable and worthy of being protected as everyone else’s,” he insisted. “Your pain is just as valid as mine or Stark’s or any random citizen’s. I don’t care if you heal faster, or are trying to meet some infeasible standard of altruism you’re holding yourself to in order to ease your conscience. I know it still hurts.”

Peter considered snatching his hand away, all too aware of their teammates’ attentive presence, but found he couldn’t. His breathing stilled as his throat began shrinking smaller and smaller and smaller. He had offered Johnny his heart, raw and beating and bloody, and the Human Torch had accepted it. He’d held the odious thing in his hands with tender care and gentle appraisal, like a biologist studying a rare and beautiful little bird. Then, word by word, he’d stitched up the parts of it that life had carved open, mending wounds Peter never realized cut him so incredibly deep. Reconstructing the unsalvageable piece by haggard piece. 

“Promise me you’ll let others help you more,” Johnny beseeched him, squeezing his wounded hand tight. “Promise me you’ll at least try. You’re not the only one you’re hurting when you’re constantly placing every other person’s safety above your own you know.”

The cold abandoned him where Johnny’s fingers touched, radiant with otherworldly warmth. Peter Parker took in a long, shuddering breath. In spite of it all, he squeezed his hand back. So much for selling the whole “platonic super-bros” act.

“Okay,” he said, voice small and brittle. “I’ll, um—I’ll try.” He wiped away a tear slithering down Johnny’s cheek, fondness branching through him. “But only if you promise to stop crying. Deal?”

Johnny scrunched up his features in despair. “I can’t do that,” he whimpered.

“Not all the time,” Peter assured him with a sympathetic chuckle. “Just right now.”

Johnny shook his head miserably. “I c-can’t do that, either.”

“Why not?”

Bawling, the Human Torch clasped both hands over his eyes, tears pouring between his fingers. “‘Cuz my face still hurts so fucking bad!” he sobbed. “And now I’m ugly!”

Peter doubled over with unexpected laughter, reawakening the aches and pains peppered across his body. “You’re not ugly,” he giggled affectionately. “You’re, like, physically incapable of being ugly. I promise. It makes you look cool! Like a total badass.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Johnny sniffled, resting his chin on his scraped kneecaps with a heartbreaking look on his face. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he mumbled.

Peter lowered his gaze. “Me too,” he conceded, flexing his gashed knuckles. “Sorry for…a lot of things. This must be the worst first date you’ve ever been on.”

Johnny hinted a smile. “Shockingly, I’ve actually had worse.”

The two boys shared a bout of belly-laughs, which quickly transformed into a duet of pained groans. Johnny grimaced, grasping the spot on his chest where Stark’s repulsor blast had struck him, misty eyes wandering up to the timer on the wall.

“Well,” he huffed drearily, “we doing this thing or what?”

Peter tracked his gaze to the digital clock overhead. Only two and a half minutes left before time ran out. 

“You’re serious?” Peter exclaimed. “You really want to give it another go?” He scanned Johnny’s battered form squeamishly. “They’ve roughed us both up pretty bad already. I’d be okay cutting our losses on this one if you’re not up for it.”

“Hell no! I’m not just gonna chicken out like some punk-ass bitch! Ben would never let me hear the end of it!” Grunting and wincing, Johnny climbed to his feet, tearful eyes filled with determination, wet hair hanging in his face. Peter stood with him, his back throbbing in protest, skin still soaked and shivery. “No way we’re going down without a fight. That stupid dummy is counting on us.”

Spider-Man smiled feebly. “If you’re sure,” he murmured, a balloon of discouragement inflating inside him as he stared across the considerable distance between them and the captive, which was bisected in two by the armored men suspended above the pool, standing guard. “Did you by chance have a plan in mind that might end better for us than mine did?”

Johnny crinkled his nose and shook his head. “Not really,” he admitted. “Your plan wasn’t terrible, necessarily—just poorly executed. I think the general concept is sound, and probably our only viable option.” He narrowed his eyes at Rhodes and Stark. “One of us distracts while the other rescues the civilian.”

“I can’t be the rescuer,” Peter confessed, shame knotting in his gut. “They have the captive’s chains rigged so that whenever something touches them, that sound that makes my brain implode goes off. It hurts too much for me to do anything.”

Johnny nodded, a twinkle of pride in his gaze. “That’s okay. Good news is, it doesn’t hurt me. I think it’s at a frequency only your super-ears are sensitive to.” Then he winced. “Bad news is, you’ll have to be the one who distracts the metal meatheads while I free the dummy.”

Peter scrunched up his brows and got to work firing up the hydraulics and ball bearings in his brain, engines humming and whirring as he studied the layout of the warehouse and the daunting foes that lay before them. In his intense ruminating, a memory from two days prior sparked to life in his mind’s eye. A skill Johnny had demonstrated a couple times before, but hadn’t made much use of other than dazzling his fans and his crush, as far as Peter was aware. Which gave him an idea. 

“Maybe you can do both,” Peter thought out loud, voice quiet. Johnny scowled at him.

“You want me to save the captive and fight the bad guys at the same time? Now you’ve gone from asking too little from me to expecting way too much.”

Peter turned to the Human Torch with an eager grin. “You don’t have to fight them,” he explained. “Neither of us do. We clearly don’t stand a chance against these guys when it comes down to brute strength or physical durability. If we try to fight our way past them, they’ll just throttle us some more.”

Johnny pursed his lips impatiently. “Then how do we get past them?”

Peter held out his palm and wiggled his fingers. “You remember that little flaming heart you created? And how you were able to control and maneuver it from afar?”

Johnny cocked his head to the side. “You mean the one I blew to you from outside the window back when I was flirting so ridiculously hard with you while you were giving me absolutely nothing in return to the point that looking back on it now it makes me want to gag myself a little?” A playful blush lit across his face as he folded his arms against his chest. “Yeah. I’m familiar.”

Peter chuckled shyly. “Yes. That one.” He tapped the center of his upturned hand. “Could you make it bigger?”

Johnny blinked, glancing down at his palm. “I mean, yeah,” he mused. “I guess I could.”

“Nice. And can you only make hearts? Or could you do something more complicated and detailed? Also—for how long and from how far away could you keep something like that lit?”

“Where are you going with this?”

Peter met Johnny’s puzzled gaze and flashed a mischievous grin, a beat of excitement thumping through his veins in harmony with his quickening pulse. He cupped a hand over his mouth and leaned in close to Johnny’s ear.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do…”

_______________________________

Stark yawned and eyed the clock on the wall of the fake warehouse for the third time in the past minute, a small sting of regret in his chest. He hovered above the deep pool at his friend’s side, turning his attention back towards the two teens standing at the far end of the arena, who had yet to make a final attempt to get past them and rescue the captive. 

Maybe I pushed them too hard, he thought, queasy with remorse. Especially Pete. 

He’d wanted to give his stubborn mentee a reality check; make him recognize just how vital it is to be prepared for anything as a hero in this world of ever-increasing threats and foes. The kid was strong, no doubt—but his unwavering commitment to protecting everyone except himself was going to get him killed one of these days. He’d had too many close calls for comfort since Tony had taken him under his wing, and he’d be damned before he let the kid die again under his watch. Witnessing Peter Parker dissolve into dust before his eyes and wading through that loss for the next five years wasn’t something Stark intended on reliving ever again for as long as he breathed. He’d done the impossible and saved the entire universe just to see that goofy little smile of his again; there was no way in hell he was going to lose him a second time. Not if he had anything to do with it. 

But there was a chance that while aiming to teach him a lesson, Tony had taken things a bit too far. In his efforts to protect something he cared deeply about, it wasn’t out of character for him to wind up critically harming the thing he was trying so desperately to keep safe. Both kids were at least standing, so they couldn’t have injured them too severely. This tough love session was meant to be a wake up call, a grounding exercise, a swift kick to the rear, not a Stark Expo of effective child abuse tactics that would cause the kid to harbor resentment towards him for years to come. 

The fact that the teens only had a minute and a half left before they lost was extra concerning. Peter wasn’t the type of kid to give up so easily. Maybe I should’ve pulled my punches a bit more… Tony considered with a pang of guilt. That repulsor blast to the back he’d hit him with while War Machine had him trapped was a pretty cheap shot. But bad guys in the real world weren’t going to exercise restraint against him like he and Rhodey might. Based on this past week alone, it was clear that Spider-Man’s enemies were out for blood. Stark had to make sure the kid had the stamina and fighting skills to take on the powerful adversaries perpetually seeking his demise. Better he be roughed up in here every now and again than dead on the street.  

When Tony’s gaze snapped into focus again, he was met with the sight of the boys charging towards them at maximum speed: Spidey swinging on swift strands of webbing while Johnny soared at his side, enveloped in flames. 

A breath of relief passed the Avenger’s lips. They weren’t going to win, obviously—but the fact that they were still trying eased some of his worries and brought a smile to his face. 

“Back for more, huh?” Rhodes called to the teens, cracking his neck and adjusting his grip around the base of the water hose. “What have you got for us this time?”

The kids answered his inquiry with a wild volley of projectile attacks launched in rapid succession. While Peter coated both of their face masks in webbing, Johnny let loose huge torrents of fire all across the arena. Only a couple of the fireballs actually managed to hit the armored men; the majority of them sailed harmlessly past their heads.

“This is your grand final attack strategy?” Tony chuckled, burning the spider webs off his helmet. “Pelting us with silly string and slightly larger balls of fire? I’m gonna be honest: I expected better from you.”

“Johnny’s barely conscious and I can hardly see straight!” Peter shouted defensively, skidding to a stop at the edge of the pool as he fired glob after glob of web fluid. “Cut us a break, would you? We’re trying our best!”

“Would Kingpin cut you a break? Would any of your enemies?” While Rhodes went after the flaming kid, Stark struck back against Peter with spates of energy from his palms, which had his mentee backpedaling feverishly and leaping left and right. While he was off-balance, Iron Man darted forward with the aim of slugging him in the temple. “Don’t think so.”

But the kid was quick; Tony only managed to graze his forehead with the edge of his metal fist. The instant after he swung, Peter seized his arm and turned his velocity against him, combining that with his considerable strength to flip him over his shoulder and ram him into the ground. Spidey followed up by latching a line of silk to his helmet activating the tasers in his web-shooters, sending shocks across Tony’s metal exterior. His armor easily absorbed the electricity the way it was designed to, but still: he admired the kid’s effort. 

“Nice try,” Stark said, wrapping the web-line around his fist and yanking it towards himself, dragging Peter with it. The teen yelped in surprise, frantically detaching the thread from his wrist, but it was too late. Tony grabbed hold of the kid’s arm and doubled back the electricity he’d just hit him with, zapping the masked hero silly and pulling a cry of pain from his lips. Iron Man floated off the ground with the boy in his grasp, dangling his limp form above the ice cold pool as Peter twitched and moaned from the shock. “But I’m afraid you’re outta your league, bud. You can’t beat me.”

Breathing hard, dazed and dizzy, Peter peeked one eye lens open, knotting both hands into fists. “I don’t h-have to beat you,” he panted, no doubt mean-mugging him with the world’s most withering glare behind his mask. “I just have to outsmart you.”

“Is that so?” Tony snorted. “I’m afraid that’s gonna prove just as difficult, kiddo.” He gave the flimsy teen a light shake. “You do know I have four doctorates, right?”

Peter coughed weakly, then chuckled. “Were any of those doctorates in close-up magic or misdirection?”

Stark frowned at him, a crumb of suspicion creeping in. Before he could unpack what the kid was insinuating, Rhodey let out a gasp. 

“What the hell?” he exclaimed. Tony whirled around to face him. His friend had the firehose aimed at a flame-engulfed Johnny Storm, the powerful stream hitting him in the dead center of his chest. But the water was passing straight through his body and spewing out of his back. He wasn’t solid somehow. When Rhodey maneuvered the nozzle to douse the rest of Johnny with water, the flaming teen disappeared completely, evaporating into the air in a puff of smoke. 

“Where did he…?” Rhodes stammered. The sound of metal chains pinging against concrete met Tony’s ear, echoing from behind them. Skewered with realization, Stark spun towards the dummy.

“It’s not real!” Tony shouted. “He made a copy of himself out of fire!”

Actual Johnny, who had successfully freed the captive from its bonds while they were preoccupied with his clone, froze at the far edge of the pool, clutching the crash dummy against his chest with a startled look on his face.

“Uh-oh,” he squeaked. 

“Since when has he been able to do that?” Rhodes balked. “The fake Johnny was dodging my attacks and everything!”

A spidery sucker punch to the jaw had Stark seeing stars for a second. Peter wrenched out of his mentor’s grip and scurried onto his metal shoulders, kicking off his helmet to launch himself into the maze of rafters overhead. 

“Johnny!” Peter hollered, slipping the web-shooter off his left wrist and winding back his arm. “Catch!”

Spider-Man flung the device across the room. Johnny burst into flame and snatched the web-shooter out of the air, booking it for the safe zone on the opposite side of the warehouse. 

“Grab him!” Stark yelled. He made a break for the Human Torch but was jerked to a violent halt by something stuck to his back. He glanced over his shoulder to find Peter crouched against the ceiling, holding strong to the thick thread he’d snagged to Tony’s spine, groaning with exertion. The tensile strength of that webbing of his was a truly remarkable scientific feat. But Tony wasn’t gonna let it stop him. 

A tiny phaser poked out of his armor at the tip of the Avenger’s shoulder and fired a laser beam of pure energy, slicing the web-line in half. But as soon as Stark had freed himself and turned to face Johnny again, a giant wad of new webbing splattered across his viewfinder, leaving him blind for a moment.

“Agh!” he shouted, tugging and clawing at the gum-like substance. “Seriously?”

The Human Torch let out a whoop of glee. “I did it!” he cheered. “Did you see that? I hit him! No wonder you love lathering people in webbing all the time! This is so fun!” Banking low to the surface of the pool, Johnny proceeded to shower Rhodes in dense globs of spider webs, making an animated “pew, pew!” sound with his mouth every time he let another sticky volley loose. Meanwhile, from behind, Peter lassoed War Machine’s arms with threads, preventing him from waterboarding or repulsor-blasting either of them again. 

Rhodey thrashed and cursed, visionless and retrained. Through the small gaps in the webbing that blocked his field of view, he could see Stark struggling to gain his sight back as well. Fending off one lycra-wearing teenager with web-shooters had proved simple enough. But fighting two of them while they both cocooned him in web fluid from varying angles and directions? 

Perhaps Rhodes and Tony had underestimated these kids.  

“Go, Johnny! Fly for your life!” Spider-Man shrieked. 

Johnny bolted past War Machine while he was indisposed, but Stark was ready for him. He cleared the rest of the webbing from his helmet and rocketed after the flaming teen, pumping everything he had into his thrusters. Johnny screamed in surprise when Stark body-checked him into the wall, fire flaring out from his silhouette where he struck hard concrete. Tony pinned him against the sideways surface and made a grab for the dummy, but Johnny had enough sense to chuck the captive away the second he found himself caught.

“Spidey!” the Human Torch cried. 

“Got it!” the masked teen called back, streaking by on hasty filaments of webbing, scooping the dummy right out of the air. Iron Man cursed under his breath. 

“Rhodes!” He hollered. Fortunately, his friend was already one step ahead of him. War Machine zoomed on Peter’s tail, his entire suit still covered in webbing, the repulsors on his hands and feet propelling him far faster than the kid’s sticky threads could ever hope to carry him, especially with only one web-shooter. Stark abandoned the teen celebrity and joined the mad chase, hurtling after his mentee. 

Shit! Peter thought, pulse pounding, spider sense screaming, every muscle in his body driving him forward as quickly as physically possible. He could feel the armored men gaining on him by the millisecond, but the boundary line he had to cross in order for them to win was just a few yards ahead. Come on! I’m so close!

The final web-line that would buoy him to victory shot from his wrist. But just before it reached the ceiling, a red laser tore across the battlefield and slashed through the thread. For a moment, Peter flailed through the air like a bug launched from a slingshot. He had no time to catch himself on another strand of silk. All he could do was rattle off every cuss word under the sun as he crashed to the ground, every ache and bruise in his body roaring from the impact. He rolled to his feet in an instant, shifting gears to an all-out sprint, but the two Avengers were already upon him. 

What started as a high-speed chase transitioned into the world’s most terrifying game of keep-away. The armored men dog piled him, metal gauntlets punching and grabbing as Peter switched the dummy between his hands, hid it behind his back, held it out of their reach, rolling and dodging and kicking and fighting to keep the captive just beyond their grasp. All of them knew they didn’t have to take it from him; they just had to prevent him from getting across the finish line long enough for time to run out, which was only seconds away. 

“Throw it, Webhead!” Johnny’s voice called out to him from somewhere he couldn’t see. In the same instant, the metal hand gripping the arm Peter was clutching the dummy for dear life with started electrocuting him, and the piercing sound that threatened to crack his skull in half began hollowing out his eardrums a fourth time. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, couldn’t handle another second of the pain. They were too strong for him. He couldn’t win this on his own. Johnny was their only hope. 

Peter summoned the last remnants of his spider strength to tear away from the two armored assailants long enough to chuck the captive blindly into the air, falling hard on his belly in the process. But when Peter opened his eyes and lifted his gaze, his heart sank. Johnny sailed overhead right on cue to catch the civilian. But Rhodey had anticipated their final play and cut between them at the last second, maneuvering directly above Peter’s head. Spider-Man had tossed the dummy straight into his waiting hands. It was over. They’d lost.

“Nice catch, Rhodey,” Stark breathed in relief.

“Phew! That was a close one!” Rhodes let out a winded laugh, holding up the captive victoriously. “For a minute there, I really thought you had us!”

Dazed with pain, Peter rose to his hands and knees with a sour knot in his stomach. Ugh. Dammit! If only he’d had both his web-shooters when he was racing across the arena at the end. Maybe he would’ve been fast enough to cross the boundary before they caught him. Giving one to Johnny had been a mistake. He should’ve known it would cost them the game.

Then, as quick as a whip, a thread of webbing cut across Peter’s line of vision and stuck to the dummy with a wet splat, ripping it right out of War Machine’s grasp. All eyes watched in awe and disbelief as the captive zipped through the air straight across the boundary line—and right into Johnny’s hands. 

Immediately, the glowing blue line etched around the safe zone switched to a dazzling green. The bell that signified their time was up sang from the speakers while the array of projections blanketing the room dissolved away. As the space transformed back into a sterile gray arena, Peter gaped as wide as the sun, then broke into the biggest smile in the entire world. Johnny looked just as shocked by what he’d accomplished as everyone else.

“Johnny!” Peter cheered, bounding to his feet and racing towards him, throwing his hands in the air. “You did it! We won!”

“I did?” Johnny stammered, blinking down at the dummy like it had just magically teleported into his possession. Then his face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Holy shit! I did!” He cackled maniacally, spiking the captive into the ground like a football. “Take that, you dumb dummy! We rescued the hell out of you!” 

“Yeah we did!” Peter laughed. He threw his arms around Johnny and lifted him off the ground, the two heroes twirling and giggling and cheering in triumph. It was only after they met each other’s gazes and lost themselves in one another’s eyes a little too long that the boys realized their mistake. Flushing crimson, the teens sprung away from each other in one simultaneous motion of panic, clearing their throats and scratching their necks and avoiding eye contact. Peter dropped Johnny back on his feet so fast, the celebrity almost face-planted into the floor. 

“I mean—it was mostly me who made it happen,” Johnny coughed sheepishly. “Having you as a teammate actually slowed me down more than anything. You’re, uh…super annoying. And a piss-poor hero. In fact, I’m signing up for Daily Bugle email alerts the second I get my phone back.”

“That was amazing!” Peter exclaimed, too ecstatic to play into Johnny’s terrible attempt at lying. “The fire clone plan worked perfectly! You made it look so real! Not even I could tell it wasn’t really you!”

Johnny blushed and shrugged. “It was surprisingly easier than I thought. I’m kinda mad I never thought to do that before. The hardest part was making the clone dodge Rhodes’ attacks while I was melting the chains off the captive.”

“And your web-shooting? Oh my god! You picked it up no problem! You’re a total natural!” Peter punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Can’t multitask my ass. You’re never allowed to use that excuse to get out of anything ever again.” Riding high on the felicity of their last-minute upset, Peter spun on his heels and pumped his fist high in the air. “In your face, Mr. Stark!”

A sharp gasp escaped him when he found Iron Man standing right behind him, towering over his tragically unimpressive stature. He sobered up in an instant, staggering back a step, struggling to read Tony’s current disposition with the helmet still covering his face. Peter swallowed uneasily.

“I…um…” the young hero stuttered. He stiffened when Stark extended an arm towards him, then slowly relaxed when he felt his hand brush the top of his head, patting him affectionately.

“I’ve never seen someone so damn motivated to prove me wrong,” Tony chuckled, doing his best to ruffle his hair through his mask. “Great job, kid. That was crazy impressive. You’re always finding new ways to surprise me.”

Peter hunched his shoulders with a hesitant smile. “Being punched and blasted and bullied and chased by two indestructible tin men is a pretty compelling motivator,” he mumbled sorely. 

Stark gave his forehead a gentle shove and dropped his hand to the side. “We didn’t hurt you too bad, did we?”

Peter spared a glance at Johnny’s beat-up face and stretched his spine with a grimace. “We’ve been through worse,” he decided languidly. He kneaded a finger into his left temple. “That awful sound-blast thing you kept hitting me with was super mean, though. My head won’t stop pounding.”

“Sorry. I guess there is such a thing as driving a point a little too far home.” The Iron Man helmet retracted back into his armor, revealing his mentor’s apologetic smile and the gnarly black eye marring the right side of his face. “If it’s any consolation, you got me back for it pretty good.”

Peter’s jaw dropped at the hinges. “Holy shit, Mr. Stark!” he cried, gripping the sides of his head. “Your eye! Did I do that?” His punch had left a dent in a small part of Tony’s face plate, but he hadn’t expected the resulting wound to be this dramatic.

“I had it coming,” he assured him with a wave of his hand. “If anything, I’m proud of you for counter striking with the same militance I was dishing out. You were holding back and staying mostly on the defensive until I went after your little flaming friend.”

Peter’s ears went hot as Tony turned to Johnny with a lighthearted smile. “Sorry about that, by the way. You gonna be all right?”

Still slightly teary-eyed, Johnny rubbed at the welt on his cheek, pouting his bloody lower lip. “Not without several ice packs and two sleeves of Thin Mints followed by a boiling hot bubble bath packed to the brim with lavender epsom salts,” he said feebly. 

Tony snickered. “That can be arranged.” He looked to Peter again, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get both of you patched up and properly compensated for your victory, yeah?”

Rhodes dropped to the ground on Stark’s left, retracting his helmet and rolling his neck with a groan. “Tell me again how you convinced me to partake in this stupid team-building game of yours?”

Tony clapped his grumpy friend hard on the back. “Let’s get you patched up too, butterfingers. Thanks for making us look bad in front of everyone, by the way. You practically handed the civilian over to these brats on a silver platter.”

Rhodey scoffed, shrugging him off. “Gimme a break,” he grumbled. “I had no stake in this. You’re the one who wanted to take them on ourselves. My vote was for the drones to do the beating and lesson-teaching, not us.” He nodded towards Johnny. “On that note, I’ll take a triple order of what the hot-tempered kid requested. Three times the bubbles and thrice the number of Thin Mints. Throw in a prime New York strip from Royal 35 while you’re at it.” He rapped his knuckles against Tony’s skull. “Chop chop, money bags.”

Tony sighed. “So that’s two extravagant bubble baths, around ten thousand Thin Mints, and a grand steak dinner for Mr. Debby Downer over here.” Stark raised an eyebrow at Peter. “Anything you’d like to tack onto that list, kid? I’m buying.”

“Does this mean you’re gonna stop badgering me about being safe all the time?” Peter asked eagerly. “That’s what you said, right?”

Stark broke into a laugh, patting the teen’s head some more as he blinked bewilderedly. “Yeah—like hell I’m doing that. Did you learn nothing from this exercise, kiddo? Are you nuts?”

Peter’s wide grin twisted into a scowl. “But that was the deal! You told me if I beat you, you’d quit constantly hounding me about protecting myself! You can’t back out on it now just because you lost!”

“You may have won the game,” Stark clarified, twirling his finger through the air, “but you didn’t beat me. It takes more than a punch to the eye to knock me down for the count. If you were to face me in a real fight, weapons hot this time, I’d have you lying in a bloody, unconscious puddle in seconds.” He placed his hand on his hip, a cruel smirk on his lips. “If you ever want me to truly stop worrying about you, you’d have to defeat me along with every other hero in this building. Then, and only then, would the safety hounding officially cease.”

Spider-Man wilted. “Oh, great. AKA, never.” He crossed his arms with a crabby huff. “I don’t think any of the Avengers could accomplish that! Not even you! That’s so unfair!”

Tony’s smile softened. His hand crept forward, hidden from Peter’s view, and delivered a killer pinch to his ribs. Spidey leapt from his touch with a squeal, hugging his arms around his torso, cursing the childish laughter the surprise attack elicited. 

“Which is why I worry about the safety of everyone here,” he explained to the giggly teen. “All day, every day. That’s my job, kid. Get used to it.” 

While Peter rubbed his rib cage, grouchy and pouty and pink with embarrassment, the billionaire corralled the boys towards the elevator, glancing back at those still standing in the viewing room. “Lang, Grimm, you two are up next. You’ll face off against Dr. Banner and Wilson. Go ahead and get started. I’ll be back in just a bit.”

Susan and Reed hurried into the arena after them. “We’re coming, too,” Dr. Storm insisted, following the group into the elevator. “I’ll help my brother with his wounds.” Despite Johnny’s protests, she stepped between the two teens and held a careful hand to her younger sibling’s face, a line crinkling between her eyes. 

“That was an incredible comeback, you two,” Mr. Fantastic beamed, eyes a little too bright and smile a little too keen for Peter’s liking. “You guys had some seriously impressive chemistry going on out there. You know—as far as creative strategizing and teamwork goes.” The scientist grinned at the Human Torch. “Wouldn’t you agree, Johnny?”

Johnny’s face went scarlet beneath his sister’s gentle fingers, panic flashing in his eyes as they flicked over to Peter. Even though Dr. Richards’ was clearly onto them, a fact that injected Spider-Man’s entire skeleton with dread, he had to bite back a snort when he saw the look on Johnny’s face. His feelings manifested themselves so flagrantly across his expressions, Peter had to wonder how it took him so long to realize the celebrity liked him back. 

“Hey Spidey,” Johnny said with an awkward laugh, brushing off Reed’s question. “You, um—you know what that fight reminded me of? That battle you had a while back where you met that superhero girl you like so much! You know—the one that you have a giant crush on?”

Now it was Peter’s turn to blush. He appreciated that Johnny was trying his best to keep their relationship a secret, despite how difficult it evidently was for him. But poor, sweet Torchy had a habit of being a little too aggressive and on-the-nose with his lies. Peter was hoping for them to stay discreet, under the radar, not push this fib about some fake girl he liked to even more of their teammates. All eyes of the group swerved to him in surprise, tinged with curiosity, making the masked hero swallow.

“Er…yeah! Sure. I guess so…” He shifted his weight between his feet, longing for a change in subject. 

Reed glanced between the two teens skeptically. Tony smiled at Peter and narrowed his eyes.

“Oh yeah. That reminds me. While I’m fixing you up, I can finally interrogate you about this mystery crush of yours, since you won’t stop being so cryptic about it.” He patted Peter on the head again and nodded at the Human Torch. “Thanks, Mr. Storm.”

Peter grimaced beneath the metal hand violently smothering his scalp. “Yeah, thanks, Johnny,” he murmured sardonically. He ducked out of his mentor’s reach, rubbing at his head with a scowl. At least Tony hadn’t caught on to who Peter’s real crush was just yet. Reed was the one they clearly needed to watch out for.  

Peter avoided Stark and Richards’ gazes all the way down to the 66th floor, sweat gathering behind his knees as his brain scrambled to slap together some kind of backstory that would convince them that this made-up superhero girl was real, and that she was the person he had developed undeniable feelings for; definitely not the strawberry-blonde celebrity with eyes like sapphires and skin like silk who’d just fought by his side to conquer unbeatable odds currently standing three feet to his right. 

_______________________________

“So you don’t know her name, don’t know what her powers are or where she’s from, have only met her twice, yet you’re 100% certain this is the person you want to pursue?”

Peter sat stiffly on the medical cot as Stark swabbed the gashes on his knuckles with medicated wipes, heart hammering and throat burning from all the lies he’d been word-vomiting onto his mentor for the past ten minutes. Johnny lounged on the bed to his left, listening in on their conversation as Sue tended to his face.

“Yep. That’s correct,” Peter laughed anxiously.

“You’re either a pathetic weirdo or a hopeless romantic,” Tony chuckled. “For the girl’s sake, I hope it’s the latter.”

“Me too,” Peter mumbled, wincing a bit when Stark mopped a particularly tender spot on his hand. The towel Tony held was streaked in bloody splotches, which granted Peter the potential escape from this topic he’d been looking for. “Your plan worked, by the way,” he added quickly, flexing his sore fingers. 

“My plan?” Tony inquired. He tossed the bloody wipes into the trash.

“Pummeling and crippling me into realizing that maybe I shouldn’t have stripped my suit of all the helpful features you put into it.” No better diversion than telling someone they were right about something neither side was eager to concede. Peter drooped a little, rubbing gingerly at his throbbing temple. “I never understood how easy it is to incapacitate me until now.”

“I still don’t get why you felt the need to take any of them out in the first place,” Stark groused, wrapping gauze around his knuckles. “Everyone on this team uses advanced tech to compensate for their deficiencies and expand their skill sets. Why shouldn’t you do the same?” Releasing his bandaged hands, Stark raised his gaze to Peter’s and gave his upper arm a light squeeze. “When we first met, you loved the suit I gave you and all the bells and whistles that came with it—to an almost unhealthy and obsessive degree. Now you want to go back to an arsenal of nothing but flimsy lycra and web-shooters standing between you and certain death? I gotta know what changed.”

Peter folded his hands in his lap, scratching at the gauze on his knuckles. “I meant what I said before,” he said sullenly. “As helpful as the tech is, it does add a significant amount of weight to my suit. Being as fast and nimble as I am has in many cases been the only reason somebody has made it out alive. Sometimes the difference between life and death depends on whether I can reach a person a millisecond faster than a bullet or a train or an enemy can. Anything that slows me down, even marginally, could mean I don’t rescue them in time.” Peter’s gaze slid from Stark to the Human Torch. “Like when that psychopath in the van almost shot Johnny.”

Johnny straightened his spine in surprise. “You mean when I nearly got my head blown off by that guy with the handgun, but you knocked me out of the way?” Sue wrinkled her nose at that image as she held an ice pack against her brother’s swollen cheek. Peter nodded. 

“Exactly. If I had hit you even an instant later, you’d be dead right now. I can’t risk other people’s lives like that just ‘cuz I want some fancy gadgets added to my suit. It’s not worth it.”

Reed and Sue studied Peter out of the corners of their eyes for a moment before returning their attention to Johnny’s wounds. Tony mulled over the young hero’s words for a moment, then heaved a weary breath. 

“I get where you’re coming from,” the Avenger assured him, patting the teen’s knee. “And I can do what I can to make sure the hardware we install is as light as physically possible for yah. But you have to understand that these features are designed to keep you alive, and keeping yourself alive is an equally important endeavor to keeping others alive when you’re a superhero. You need to prioritize your own life and wellbeing as much as you do everyone else’s. You know you can’t save anyone if you’re dead, right?”

Peter’s expression hardened. He balled his hands together in his lap. “I know, but—”

Stark smacked his palm against the mattress. “No!” he cut in, making Peter flinch. “No ‘buts.’ Not for this! That’s the end of it. You’re not gonna make me watch you die again, kid. I won’t let you.”

Stunned, Peter raised his eyes to Tony’s, a shudder darting through him at the pain sketched across his mentor’s face. Shock and shame pooled in the pit of the vigilante’s stomach. He’d almost forgotten what Mr. Stark had gone through thanks to Thanos and the Blip. The five years he’d been left alone, guilt-ridden and suffering, thinking Peter and Strange and so many others were gone for good thanks to his failure. What had only felt like seconds to Peter had been half a decade of despair and mourning for 50% of the world’s population, including his idol. He didn’t have to pretend to know what losing him might feel like: he’d already lived through it before, and was clearly resolved to never do so again.

“You’re talking about the Blip, aren’t you?” Reed interjected despondently. Peter and Tony turned to him as he sunk into the chair by Johnny’s bedside, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Those five years…that was the lowest point I’ve ever hit in my life. My entire world vanished in an instant. Susan, Ben, Johnny. I was the only one left alive.” 

Peter’s heart skipped in disbelief. He hadn’t known that about Dr. Richards. There were too many people across too many communities who had been in his position: families and support systems and friends and lovers torn apart by Thanos’ snap, with those who survived left utterly alone for five long years. 

“Reed,” Sue breathed hollowly. She reached out and took her boyfriend’s hand in her own, grasping it tight. Dr. Richards planted a kiss on top of her knuckles and offered her a frail smile, running his thumb up and down her wrist. 

“I know how it feels to be powerless to protect the ones you care about,” Reed said softly. “How you’d do anything for a second chance. The people on this team mean everything to me. I lost them once, then nearly lost them all over again because of my own arrogance and complacency.” He met Stark’s gaze with cold certainty in his eyes. “That’s why we’re here. So we can learn how to use our powers to protect ourselves and others from enduring that loss again. So we can be as strong and fortified as possible to face any threat that comes our way.”

Tony nodded solemnly, then turned back to the wilted teen on the hospital bed in front of him, whose face was downcast. He laid a hand on the boy’s slumped shoulder with a fond ache in his chest. “I care a lot about you, kiddo. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah,” Peter said after a small pause, keeping his gaze on the floor. 

“And It’s okay to let the people who care about you help you stay alive.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

“Nobody will think less of you for using the resources available to you to protect yourself. You’re allowed to sacrifice a smidge of your super speed for the sake of self-preservation. If not for yourself, then do it for me, and everyone else who loves you.”

Peter winced, blindsided and cut to the heart by Stark’s unusually vulnerable words. “I…I know,” he said again, voice skeletal. Now it clicked what Johnny had meant when he said it wasn’t just himself he was hurting when he placed everyone else’s safety above his own. May, Mr. Stark, Ned, the Human Torch: it was hurting them, too. His pain was their pain whether he liked it or not. That was the burden that came with caring for someone like him, and they’d each willingly chosen to bear it despite all of Peter’s warnings and objections. Their commitment to him minced Peter up inside with guilt like no other while also setting his soul aglow with dizzying, endless gratitude. He couldn’t do this without them. He probably would’ve died a long time ago if he’d tried. Stewing in a nauseous cocktail of emotion, Peter fiddled with the bandages on his hands as Tony rubbed his shoulder with gentle, comforting motions.

“Look at me, kid.”

Timidly, Peter did. The Avenger held his gaze with a grim line between his eyes.

“Think about it for a sec. What if you’re paralyzed by sensory overload because you don’t have the input dampers installed while trying to rescue a hostage? Or too injured to save someone because your suit was designed to be light rather than to protect your body from harm? What if you can’t pull someone who’s drowning from the water because you’re too cold to swim both of you to safety? Denying yourself protection doesn’t always equate to protecting someone else, kid. In fact, it could be the very thing that sends you both to an early grave. Every sacrifice you choose to make has its own risks, benefits, losses, rewards. But no matter what, you have to take care of yourself first if you want to be strong enough to help others.” He poked Peter in the center of his chest. “Isn’t that, like, the very first thing they teach you when you fly on an airplane?”

Peter blinked at him, still marinating in the ocean of words and wisdom his mentor had bestowed him with. “I’ve never been on an airplane,” he answered shyly. “Except that one time with Happy when he flew me on your private jet.”

Tony frowned. “Oh. Right.” He paused. “You should really get out of the city more often.”  He paused again, leaning back in his chair with a huff. “Regardless, the logic still stands.” Another pause later, he crossed his arms against his chest. “Is any of this getting through to you, kid?”

The masked hero nodded, really wishing Dr. Storm and Dr. Richards weren’t around to hear him be lectured like this. “Yes,” he yielded remorsefully. “It is. We can add back whichever features you think are most vital to keeping me alive.” He lifted his eyes to Stark’s pained and heavy expression. “I’m…sorry for stressing you out so much by not prioritizing my safety enough. I forgot…” he began, but decided it didn’t have to be said again. “I…I’ll do better.”

Tony’s lip twitched into a sad smile. “Thanks, kid. I appreciate it.”

Johnny let out a dramatic groan. “Sweet Jesus of Nazareth. Finally.” He gestured to Peter with a languid flick of his wrist. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to get this numbskull to understand all goddamn day! Thank Christ Mr. Stark was finally able to knock some sense through that dense head of yours.”

Peter glared at the hot-headed celebrity. “Eat glass, you wet match.”

“Make me, Itsy-Bitsy.”

Tony chuckled. “You two have the strangest relationship,” he said, making blood rush to both teen’s faces. It seemed the harder they tried to downplay their feelings for each other, the more apparent they became.

“Don’t let him make you feel too bad,” Rhodes cut in, sipping coffee from a mug on the other side of the room. “Tony is overly protective of everyone in his life. If it were up to him, he’d slap every person on this team with a suit of armor of his own making. Hell, he’d wrap the whole world in metal if it were physically possible. His solution to everything is to encase the people he cares about in cold, impenetrable shells, even if that’s not what’s best for anyone involved.” He raised his mug in the air with a tilt of his head and a smirk. “Just because I fell for his trap doesn’t mean you have to.”

Stark scoffed, rising from his seat. “Excuse me, Colonel Douche Canoe. This is Spidey’s reprobation hour, not mine.” He waved him away. “Go take your $300 bubble bath and eat your fancy steak before either gets cold, you lousy ingrate.”

Rhodey grinned and threw Tony a salute as he strolled off towards his room, using a cane to walk now that he was no longer wearing the War Machine armor. Stark slipped a pair of sunglasses onto his face to partially obscure his black eye, then turned back to Peter with his hands in his pockets. 

“He’s not wrong, but anyways. Good talk, kid. I gotta head back up to watch the others run through the training.” He patted Peter on the back. “Can I trust you to attend to the rest of your injuries?”

Before Peter could answer, Reed stood from his chair. “I can help him,” he volunteered, joining Tony at Peter’s bedside. “Sue can handle Johnny. I’m happy to dress the remainder of Spider-Man’s wounds.”

Peter looked up at the scientist in surprise as Stark inclined his chin in gratitude. “Thanks, doc. All that’s left are the burns on his arms and the scrape on his face. Oh—and check his back as well. He probably has a bad bruise there that could use some ice.”

“I’ll get right to it,” Richards assured him. Tony gave Peter one last pat to the head, then returned to the elevator, disappearing behind the shiny silver doors. Reed took Stark’s place in the seat in front of him, scanning the masked hero with discerning eyes and an inquisitive smile. Peter squirmed in place a little.

“My, um—my injuries aren’t so bad,” he insisted, trying not to gawk at the scientific legend sitting before him. “I can easily handle them myself.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Reed said warmly. He extended a hand towards him. “May I?”

Reluctantly, Peter laid his arm in Dr. Richards’ palm. Reed turned Peter’s wrist to get a better look at the burn on his forearm, leaning in close and moving slow. He grabbed a pair of scissors off the table to his left to cut away the charred fabric surrounding the wound. As Peter watched him work, all of the millions of questions the nerdy half of his brain wanted to ask him garnered at the back of his throat and dangled on the tip of his tongue. But for a growing number of reasons, Peter kept his mouth shut, opting to sit in uncomfortable silence while the scientist tended to him. 

“I really didn’t think you two were gonna win that battle,” Richards admitted without looking up from his arm, mercifully being the one to break the ice. “But that fire clone diversion was a stroke of genius. Having Johnny swap himself with a copy at just the right moment, disguising himself as one of the fireballs being thrown so he could fly right past the enemies completely undetected? I had no clue he even possessed that ability.”

“Me neither!” Johnny chimed in brightly. “Wasn’t that awesome? I’ve never done anything like that before! Spidey was the one who came up with the idea. I thought for sure it wouldn’t work, but I’m so glad I was wrong.”

“And giving Johnny one of your web-shooting devices,” Reed continued, eyes shifting to Peter this time. “That was your idea as well?”

Peter flushed a little behind his mask. “I mean…I figured since we couldn’t beat them with strength, our only chance at winning was being unpredictable and doing things nobody would expect.”

Reed nodded, eyes sparkling with interest. “That’s how the world’s most brilliant minds operate. Thinking outside the box, trying stuff nobody ever considered possible or rational before. It’s no wonder Stark took you under his wing, or that he cares so deeply for you. You’ve got a remarkable head on your shoulders.”

Peter’s geeky little heart threatened to rupture right through his rib cage. Had he heard that correctly? The Dr. Reed Richards thought he was brilliant? First the public showing signs of finally beginning to like him, then getting kissed by his biggest crush in the entire world, and now this? He could drop dead right now and be perfectly content with his life. His usual Parker luck must have jumped ship to some other hapless soul for the day. History had proven it’d be back soon enough, but he was gonna enjoy every minute of this win streak for as long as the universe permitted.

“Thank you, Dr. Richards,” Peter said bashfully. “That really means a lot, coming from you.”

Reed finished cleaning the burn on his right arm and switched to his left, carefully swabbing at the angry red skin. “What’s even more impressive,” he went on, “is that you’re as smart as you are now at your age.”

Peter raised his eyes to Reed’s in one quick motion, caught off guard. “My…age?” he said bemusedly. 

The scientist nodded, gaze trained on Peter’s forearm. “Your mind today hasn’t even reached its full potential yet; it’s still got decades of development and expansion ahead. Which means you could very well surpass my intellect by the time you've reached adulthood.” 

Sweat broke out across Peter’s forehead. Did he find out I’m a teenager somehow? Maybe Sue had told him what she’d overheard him say yesterday in the lab—about him being on his high school’s decathlon team. He wet his lips and played dumb. “I’m…not sure I understand,” he said skittishly. 

“Johnny told us you’re the same age as he is,” Richards stated bluntly, transforming Peter’s blood to liquid concrete. “Sixteen years old.” The scientist met his gaze with an unreadable expression. “Is that true?”

Peter opened and closed his mouth like a half-dead fish, his arm going rigid in Dr. Richards’ grip. The leader of the Fantastic Four continued mending his burn, waiting patiently for his response. 

“Reed!” Johnny exclaimed, fire roaring down his arms. Sue flinched back in surprise. “What the hell, man? Don’t ask him that! I didn’t even mean to tell you!” His flames receded a little as he miserably turned towards Peter. “I’m sorry. I said it by accident. Only he and Susan know.”

Peter was too stunned to acknowledge him as he sat on the medical cot, frozen stiff. Susan lanced him with an impatient scowl. “Did you lie to my brother about that? Or are you actually sixteen?”

The pair of scientists pinned him with their stares, waiting. They had him trapped, he realized. If he said he wasn’t, and that he’d lied to Johnny, they’d never let the two of them see each other again. What sane guardians would? Not only would that make Spider-Man a liar; he’d be a creepy old weirdo deceiving a 16-year-old into hanging out with him by claiming they were the same age. Now he realized just how threatening his relationship with Johnny probably appeared to them. For all they knew, he was a full-grown man running around in a mask who had befriended their underaged teammate through lies. They had every right to be wary of him.

“I…” he stammered, knowing it was pointless. There was no quipping his way out of this one. He pinched his eyes closed and gripped his arms behind the elbows, guts tangling with dread and uncertainty. He had no choice but to say…

“Yes.” 

The word left his lips more like a squeak than a statement. He felt utterly naked despite his suit and his mask. 

“It’s true.”

Both adults’ eyes went wide. Johnny clapped a hand over his face with a whimper. Grimacing, Peter tucked his limbs in close to his body.

“I don’t, um…I haven’t told many people, though. Only Johnny and Mr. Stark. As far as I know, the rest of my teammates think I’m in my twenties.”

Sue and Reed exchanged a startled look. A whole silent conversation seemed to pass between their locked gazes. When Richards turned back to him, something had softened in his eyes. 

“If that’s true, why do you choose to keep it from them?”

Peter shrugged, body humming with anxiety the way it always did when people discovered things about him they weren’t supposed to know. “I don’t want people treating me differently just ‘cuz I’m younger than they expected,” he explained quietly. “I don’t want to be pitied or looked down upon any more than I already am. I’m an Avenger with powers that make me strong enough to fight for what’s right, the same as the rest of them. My age doesn’t change that.”

Susan shook her head slowly back and forth, features twisted in disbelief, hands falling to the mattress and digging into the plush material. “No,” she dissented adamantly. “No, that doesn’t—it wouldn’t make any sense. You’re lying to us.”

“What about it doesn’t make sense?” Johnny scoffed.

“That battle in Germany Stark told us he brought him to was nearly two years ago,” she retorted, a single vein throbbing in her neck. “Do you seriously expect us to believe Tony willingly brought a 14-year-old halfway across the world to fight on his behalf?”

Peter clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Well…he did tell me he was unusually desperate at the time. And he has said he regrets getting me involved in all that.” He unfolded his legs and dangled them off the edge of the bed. “But I’m glad he brought me along. Despite how much he pesters me about being safe all the time, Mr. Stark has always believed in me as a hero. He’s never made me feel like I couldn’t take on big challenges or accomplish great things because of my age.”

“And who are you to talk?” Johnny shot back at his sister. “You brought me to space even though I’m a teenager. How is that any different?”

“Reed and I never would’ve let you come along if we’d known the cosmic event was going to be that powerful or dangerous,” she insisted. “No right-minded adult would. Even now, we only take you on missions that we’re confident we’re capable of overcoming together. I’m in a position to make those calls because I’m responsible for you. I’m your guardian. We’re family.” She scowled at Peter, although her glare had a little less bite to it than before. “But Stark isn’t your family, is he? According to what he told us, the first time he met you was to recruit you to help him in that fight. What kind of reprobate drags someone else’s child to a war zone in a foreign country at that age?”

“Sue…” Richards said nervously, shooting a glance at the elevator. Thankfully, Tony had long departed. 

“So no, I don’t buy it. Not unless you can explain to me how Stark justified any part of that to himself or your parents.” She turned towards him fully now, huffing incredulously. “Do they even know you’re Spider-Man? Did Tony even bother to mention to them what he was planning to do with you? Because that’s bordering on kidnapping and reckless endangerment.”

Cables of bewilderment sprang loose in Peter’s chest. He hadn’t expected this conversation to turn from a surprise interrogation about Spider-Man’s age to an investigation into his mentor’s potential crimes. A beat of tense silence passed, promptly interrupted by Johnny sliding off the hospital bed and shouldering past his sister. 

“His parents are dead, asshole,” he snapped, walking to stand at Peter’s side. “They’ve been dead for a long time.”

Alarm washed across Susan’s face, quickly followed by Reed’s. Peter averted his gaze, insides squirming. As important as these two were to Johnny, and as badly as he’d like to get to know them more, they were still basically strangers to him. Having his life story randomly dumped at their feet like this didn’t feel right.

“But I was taken in and raised by someone really great,” Peter added rigidly, jabbing his elbow in Johnny’s arm to try to shut him up. “They didn’t know I was Spider-Man when Stark took me to Germany, but they know now. And they’re totally fine with it. Patronizing and naggy at times, but very supportive and loving.”

Sue recalled then what she’d overheard the masked vigilante say while eavesdropping on him and her brother the other day. Something about Spider-Man’s aunt taking over as his guardian after he’d lost his parents. If he was telling the truth then, that must be who he was referring to now.

Dr. Storm and Dr. Richards examined Peter wordlessly for the next few seconds, their fiercely intelligent eyes seeming to pierce through his flesh and probe the very fabric of his soul. Sue handed her brother the ice pack and gestured to her cheek without turning her gaze from the red and blue teen. The Human Torch pressed it to the welt on his face begrudgingly.

“Now will you stop grilling him already?” Johnny berated them. “Spidey told me these things about himself because I’m his friend and I’ve earned his trust. You two haven’t done anything to make him feel safe enough to share his personal life with you. He’s not obligated to tell you shit.”

“It’s okay, Johnny,” Peter insisted, the back of his neck heating just slightly. “It’s not like I’ve done much to earn their trust, either.”

“No, you haven’t,” Sue remarked, making Peter shrivel like a worm in the sun. She snatched her water bottle off the bedside table and took a long, angry swig, pausing a moment before swallowing. “I’m sorry, Spider-Man,” she said firmly, wiping her mouth. “But until I see who you really are behind that mask, I’m taking everything you say with a huge grain of salt. Nothing about you ever adds up. I hate the idea of anyone who feels the need to hide this much of themselves from others hanging around my brother all the time. If you ever want us to trust you, you know what that will take.”

Peter’s heart withered. Her words were nettles on already flayed skin. Johnny rolled his eyes as she marched towards the elevator, tying her hair into a messy bun at the back of her head.

“Let’s go catch the tail end of Ben’s training exercise,” she said to Reed, signaling for him to follow her.

“I’ll be right behind you, my dear.” The acclaimed scientist tore open a strip of butterfly tape. “I need to finish tending to Spider-Man’s wounds.”

Susan narrowed her eyes but chose not to argue with him. “One of us will go after he’s finished, so don’t take too long. And give Johnny’s lip one more once-over for me. It might need stitches.”

Reed nodded and waved while Sue stalked away. At Peter’s side, Johnny went white.

“Stitches?” he cried, his hand flying to his mouth. His sister ignored him, vanishing behind the elevator doors. “I don’t want stitches! Reed—tell her I don’t need stitches!”

“We’ll see if we can manage without them after I’m done with your friend,” Richards assured him with a sympathetic smile. He rolled his chair closer to Peter, gesturing to the cut above his eyebrow. “All right if I bandage that up for yah?”

Peter cleared his throat and nodded his head, still reeling from the last five minutes. “Uh, y-yeah. Sure. Thank you.”

Dr. Richards wiped away the blood surrounding the gash then slipped his fingers through the tear in Peter’s mask, carefully securing the butterfly tape to either side of the wound. Peter sat with his chin tilted downwards, struggling to keep his restless legs from swinging or bouncing. Even though he’d basically given up on ever winning Dr. Storm’s favor, it still hurt to be reminded of how much she distrusted him.

“Reed—you’re a smart guy.” Johnny sat on the side of Peter’s bed, then wrinkled his brow. “Well. Sorta. Sometimes. Smarter than my sister, anyway.” He leaned towards his teammate with his hands folded on top of his knees. “You know Spidey’s not lying about his age, right?”

A light chuckle escaped the scientist. “I’m certainly less dubious of the idea than Susan,” he admitted. 

“Tony knows he’s sixteen,” Johnny reminded him, poking Richards repeatedly in the shoulder. “Just ask him if you’re still not convinced!”

Reed smoothed down the edges of the tape with his thumbs, a coy smile lifting his features. “I think I’d rather ask him about this mysterious new crush of yours, Spider-Man. I’ve read my fair share of shocking and scandalous news stories about you, but this is the first I’m hearing of the masked menace of New York developing romantic feelings for someone.”

Peter’s body sizzled like a kettle on the stovetop. He prayed the exposed skin on his face didn’t look as red as it felt. “Oh,” he stuttered, caught off guard to say the least. The teen scratched behind his ear. “Well, er…you already heard everything about it when I was talking to Mr. Stark earlier.”

“You shared how you came to know this girl, but never explained why you actually like her. Perhaps if I knew a little more about the situation, I could help you win her affections.” Reed sipped his coffee spiritedly. “Us nerdy superheroes gotta have each other’s backs, right?”

Under different circumstances, Peter would’ve been thrilled to have one of the greatest minds in the world showing this kind of interest in his life. While the vigilante blanched before the famed scientist, Johnny barked out a laugh. 

“Since when did you decide you’re in any way qualified to give romantic advice?” The Human Torch gestured proudly to himself. “If Spidey needs flirting tips, he should get them from a real expert. AKA, the world’s most sought after luminary dreamboat heartthrob, yours truly.” 

Reed turned to Johnny with a playful glimmer in his eye. “How are things going with your crush, by the way?” When Johnny opened his mouth, then shut it again, looking ruffled and conflicted and a little pink in the face, Dr. Richards laughed. “Maybe I can help both of you lock down the people you’re pining for. I am, after all, the only person here who’s currently in a relationship, right?”

Neither teen was sure how to respond to that. If Johnny liked Spidey, but Spidey liked a girl, wouldn’t Reed’s desired outcome be impossible? This was all becoming a little too complicated to keep up with. Recovering quickly, Johnny scoffed. 

“I wouldn’t count selling your soul and dignity to my slimy bog witch of a sister as a legitimate relationship,” he grumbled. 

Reed ignored him, shifting his attention back to Peter. “Tell me what you like so much about this nebulous new superhero.”

A fresh wave of nausea swirled through Peter’s guts at the thought of summoning more lies to spew about this fake crush of his. He glanced at Johnny helplessly, unable to picture a face more breathtaking than the one staring back at him now; any other person so exceedingly capable of kicking all his faculties to the curb. Would it really be so terrible if Dr. Richards knew the truth? Peter felt that the two of them deserved at least one day to process all this without anyone else butting in. He ran a hand over his stomach, queasy with nerves. 

“Well…she’s got, uh…really pretty eyes.”

The room went quiet for a moment. Johnny blinked at him, a small muscle feathering in his jaw. Reed brightened.

“Oh yeah? What color are they?”

Peter bit his lip. How specific did he dare to be? Warmth radiated off his neck as he dug his thumb into a bruise on his knee, the soft bloom of pain helping anchor his mind. 

“They’re this really striking blue color,” he replied, a timid smile finding his lips as heat bled into his ears. “It’s like staring at a super detailed painting of the ocean just after a storm breaks, with all these sprawling lines of gray and green criss-crossing over top of one another. Like seagrass and sea foam branching through the water while beams of sunlight reflect across the surface.”

Swallowing, Peter’s gaze drifted meekly in the Human Torch’s direction. A spark of recognition touched those very same eyes he’d been describing, followed by a flush of color dusting across the celebrity’s cheeks. Johnny sucked his lips to his teeth, battling not to react, then whirled away from Peter sharply, concealing his bashful grin behind a coughing fit, the blush in his face creeping down his neck and into his freckled ears.

“Wow,” Reed mused as Johnny hacked into his fist. “That’s an incredibly vivid description for someone you’ve only met twice. She must be very special.”

Despite his best efforts, a shy giggle slipped through Peter’s defenses. “She is,” he agreed eagerly. “She’s the kind of person you don’t need to know long to fall head over heels for. I doubt I could forget those eyes even if I wanted to. She leaves a lasting impression on everyone she meets.”

Reed patted Johnny on the back as he aggressively cleared his throat. “What about your crush, Johnny? What do you like about them?”

Flustered and florid, Johnny combed his fingers through his hair and puffed out his cheeks, fighting to compose himself. “Eh…you know what? I’m over that loser. I’d rather talk about this girl Spidey’s so darn obsessed with some more.” He turned back to Peter with a mischievous grin splashed across his rosy face—the kind that flooded the vigilante’s tummy with butterflies of anticipation. “Hey, lovebug. Have you mentioned yet that you and this girl have kissed already?”

Peter slowly furrowed his brow, watching Richards’ mouth fall open in his peripheral vision. What the hell was Johnny playing at? If they were going to keep this fake heterosexual love interest of Spidey’s going for the sake of hiding their not-so-hetero relationship, they seriously needed to get their stories about her straight.  “Um…no?” he stammered warily. “I can’t…say I have…?”

“You most certainly did not,” Reed exclaimed, glancing at Johnny with a slightly worried, semi-pensive expression. “That’s a pretty key detail to leave out. And here I was thinking this was just another one-sided tragedy of a hopeless young man yearning after some clueless girl.”

“Nope,” Johnny said matter-of-factly. “She’s just as into Spidey as he’s into her. She told me about it herself.” He bumped his shoulder against Peter’s and clasped the ice pack to his chest theatrically. “She couldn’t stop raving about how great of a kisser he was—with his perfectly soft lips, his timid but eager approach, the way he left her begging for more and longing for the next time she’d be lucky enough to kiss him again. This little spider is way slicker than he’s letting on.”

Peter’s stomach did a somersault while his skin flashed with heat. Now he understood what that sly bastard was up to. If Peter was going to use this made-up girl to sprinkle Johnny with incognito compliments, Johnny was going to do everything in his power to one-up him. He couldn’t help himself, could he? He had to be the one to get the last word in so Peter was the person left most flustered by the end of every exchange, not him. 

Dr. Richards was looking more confused by the second. “That’s…quite graphic,” he murmured. “I didn’t know you were so well acquainted with this girl.”

“She did mention she wished he’d loosen up a bit more,” Johnny forged ahead mercilessly. “He was a tad stiff and static. Which is totally normal the first few times people kiss, but still. Maybe he should do something different with his hands, like running them through her hair or cradling the back of her neck instead of just dangling them at his sides. It wouldn’t hurt to soften his jaw a little, either. Oh, and she’d really like it if he pulled away less hastily, and also used more tongue.”

Boiling from the inside-out, Peter clamped a panicked hand over Johnny’s mouth as the celebrity giggled maniacally. “Oh wow, w-would you look at the time! I think Johnny is late for his bubble bath! And you for your training exercise, Dr. Richards! Thank you both for the delightfully heartfelt and uncomfortably specific dating advice. Truly. Honestly. Means a lot.”

Reed’s eyes slid between the two boys with an air of curiosity, suspicion, and something else Peter couldn’t quite pinpoint, but didn’t like one bit. “Maybe this isn’t something I want to involve myself with after all,” he decided with a snort, returning the roll of butterfly tape to the medical kit.

“Ow, ow!” Johnny yelped, voice muffled behind Peter’s palm. He tugged at the hand covering his mouth with a grimace. “Spidey! My lip!”

Peter immediately released his face. “Oh shit! Sorry!” Guilt stung him as Johnny ran his tongue over the bright red gash, his features scrunched in pain. “Are you sure you don’t need stitches?”

“Don’t remind him!” Johnny exclaimed frantically. “It’ll be fine as long as you don’t yank at it with your sticky palms!”

“You’re lucky that Spider-Man is correct: I really need to head out soon. I don’t wish to invoke the wrath of my beloved.” The scientist rose from his chair and walked to stand behind Peter, smiling cordially at the pleading eyes of his teammate. “I won’t force you to get stitches when they’re not 100% necessary. They would certainly help speed up the healing process, but it’s your decision.”

Johnny squished the half-melted ice pack against his cheek with his chin held high in defiance. “Hell fucking no. That’s my decision.”

Reed bowed his head in acknowledgment, then placed his hands on top of Peter’s shoulders. “I assume your back is fine based on your upbeat demeanor and mobility, but let me check just to be sure before I leave.” 

While Richards pressed and squeezed around his spine, Peter scanned Johnny’s face for a few seconds, piqued with new intrigue. “Why are you so against getting stitches?” he asked. When the teen reddened without responding, Reed hummed thoughtfully. 

“Johnny is afraid of needles,” he explained, kneading the heel of his hand into the small of Peter’s back. “He has been since he was little, but it only got worse after all the bloodwork and injections we had done following the incident in space.”

“I am not afraid of them!” Johnny shot back, smoke roiling off his head. “I’d just prefer not to deal with them when presented with the option! That’s totally normal! Who chooses to get stabbed in the face when you don’t have to be?”

“Don’t you have a nose piercing?” Peter reminded him. Richards stifled a snicker.

“Oh dear. Now there’s a story. Shall I regale the details of that day to your friend, or would you like to?”

Johnny bristled. “There are no details to regale. All my friends were getting piercings, so I decided to get one, too. Sue thought it would be good for me. You know—exposure therapy or whatever. I was completely fine until I saw how big the needle was!”

“If by ‘completely fine’ you mean sobbing your eyes out and fainting in the parking lot, then yes, I’d have to agree.”

Peter gawked at him. “You fainted?” he said, failing to suppress a giggle. “Oh my god. You really are scared of them, huh?”

“I have a normal amount of dislike towards them!” Johnny insisted defensively. “Quit making such a big deal out of it! It’s not that serious!”

A serpentine smile coiled along Peter’s lips. “Looks like we both know each other’s weaknesses now,” he dared to tease the prickly celebrity. Johnny scoffed, tossing the ice pack aside, which was now completely melted. 

“Not liking needles is more of an inconvenience than a weakness,” he rebuked him, a grin splitting across his face. “Yours, on the other hand, is not only debilitating, but embarrassing as all hell.”

“What’s Spider-Man’s weakness?” Reed asked nonchalantly, doing one last integrity test on his neck and clavicles. Peter sighed.

“My heightened senses can get overwhelmed by too much input. Enemies can incapacitate me with loud, sustained sounds or flash bangs, like the ones Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes used against me today.” He hunched his shoulders and cut a glare in Johnny’s direction. “But what I assume Johnny is referring to is despite my arachnid-themed name and getup, I don’t actually like spiders very much. Which I would also argue is more of an inconvenience than a weakness.”

Johnny’s magnetic eyes glinted with wicked delight. “Nope. Not quite. Your fear of spiders is also hilarious and embarrassing, but there’s a third weakness you’re forgetting.”

Peter furrowed his brow. “Uh…hypothermia? Assault rifles? Those Sarah Mclachlan ASPCA commercials?”

Johnny slid off Peter’s medical cot and placed his hands on his hips, the evil smirk never leaving his lips. “Hey, Reed—why don’t you check Spidey’s rib cage, make sure nothing’s broken? I could’ve sworn I heard one of his ribs crack during our battle today.”

Richards glanced down at Peter’s torso with a concerned wrinkle knitting between his eyes. “Really? Let me take a look.” He rounded the bed so he was standing in front of the young hero, raising his hands to either side of his rib cage.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” Peter said dubiously. He wasn’t sure what point Johnny was trying to make until Reed’s fingers pressed into his ribs, kneading experimentally at each rung of bone to feel for any abnormalities. Peter stiffened beneath his touch, breath catching in his throat, a warm flush rising to the surface of his skin as the scientist’s hands slowly ascended his rib cage. He clamped down on the explosive giggles suddenly rallying behind his lips, amassing in his belly, begging to break loose. His arm muscles twitched with the unbearable need to slam down to his sides as Reed’s fingers dug into the sensitive flesh of him with mathematical precision. 

“Nothing feels cracked or fractured,” Richards observed, oblivious to the torture he was currently putting the masked hero through.

“Try up higher,” Johnny suggested innocuously. “That’s where I remember hearing the crack.”

Before Reed’s hands even had a chance to move, Peter already knew he was done for. A tiny whimper escaped him as his spider sense tingled in warning, followed by a high-pitched squeal the moment Reed’s fingers made contact with his uppermost ribs. He recoiled violently from his touch, cinching his arms around himself, face ablaze behind his mask. The esteemed scientist withdrew his hands, blinking in surprise. 

“Oh dear,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Peter rubbed his rib cage sheepishly, singed with color, forcing the giggles back down his throat. “F-fine,” he squeaked out. “See? Not injured.” Reed narrowed his eyes at him, not looking the least bit convinced. 

“Told yah,” Johnny jeered, tutting in disappointment. “Typical Webhead. Always trying to tough it out and hide his pain from everybody around him. When are you gonna learn that it's okay to let others help you?”

That gorgeous little bitch, Peter thought, febrile with embarrassment. Perhaps letting Johnny get to know him so well had been a mistake after all. Now the treacherous celebrity knew exactly how to push all his buttons, and clearly had no reservations about wielding that power against him. “I’m not injured!” Peter insisted, hugging his sides protectively. “You know I’m not! You’re just lying to be annoying!”

“Something must be hurting you to make you flinch that aggressively,” Reed pointed out, nudging at the vigilante’s rigid arms. “Please allow me to take another look. Broken ribs can have serious consequences if not treated properly.”

Peter retreated back from the renowned genius, blushing tremendously. “Dr. Richards, I swear I’m fine. I wouldn’t lie about something like this. I promise.”

“If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have any issues with me confirming that fact.” He raised his hands towards Spider-Man’s midsection again, but the masked hero kept his arms glued firmly to his sides, blocking him from touching his ribs. He felt ridiculous for acting so childish, but he couldn’t handle another second of those meticulous fingers poking and prodding his torso, or the thought of giving Johnny the satisfaction of out-flustering him—again—by exposing one of his least heroic attributes to someone Peter so deeply admired. Reed Richards huffed impatiently.

“Stark entrusted me with tending to all of your wounds. I can’t leave here in good conscience until I’m certain you’re not injured.”

“And I’m telling you I’m not!” Peter argued helplessly. “I’m all fixed now! There’s nothing left for you to tend to!”

Johnny chuckled like a fiend, relishing every second of Spider-Man’s pathetic floundering, crossing his arms against his chest. “I don’t think he’s giving you a choice, Reed. You’re gonna have to give him the ol’ wrap and trap.”

Peter wrinkled his brow. “The what?” he said warily. “What are you talking about?” 

Reed waved at Johnny dismissively. “There’s no need to resort to such pugnacious tactics. If Spider-Man swears he isn’t hiding an injury, I’ll take his word for it.”

Peter deflated in relief. “Thank you, Dr. Richards.” Finally. At least one founder of the Fantastic Four trusted him to some degree. Crisis averted. Peter: 1, Johnny: 0.

The scientist held his palm out to him. “Just hand me my coffee cup, and I’ll be on my way.”

Spider-Man looked over his shoulder at the table beside him and lifted the mug from where it sat. “Oh, yeah. Sure thing.” He placed the cup in Reed’s hand, who offered him a friendly smile.

“Thank you, Spider-Man.” His palm slid beneath the mug, then shot forward suddenly, his arm elongating faster than Peter could blink and coiling around the vigilante’s wrist. “Also, my sincerest apologies.”

“What the—?” Peter choked, reeling back, straining against his grasp. Mr. Fantastic’s stretchy limb wound up his arm like a lightning-quick python, buckling his elbow so that his forearm was pinned to his bicep. The scientist’s other arm snaked under and over the hospital bed thrice in a row, tethering Peter’s legs to the cot. “Wait! What are you doing? Dr. Richards…!”

“I’m terribly sorry for deceiving you,” Reed said earnestly. Both his arms worked in tandem to restrain the squirmy hero, weaving and constricting around his limbs until the vigilante’s arms were twisted behind his back and pinned between his shoulder blades at awkward angles. “But your abilities make you very difficult to subdue. I figured the only chance I had at successfully trapping you was to lower your guard and catch you by surprise. I do hope you don’t take it personally.”

The eye lenses on the vigilante’s mask stretched as wide as physically possible. He wrestled against the vice grip Richards had him snared in, all his strength and leverage made null by the masterfully executed pretzel Mr. Fantastic had braided his arms into. He clearly had experience tying up opponents much stronger than him. 

“W-why are you doing this?” Peter stammered incredulously, flustered and betrayed. “I said I wasn’t injured!”

“You also yelped like a kicked puppy when I put the slightest pressure on your upper ribs,” Richards reminded him, stepping closer. “I just need to make sure there’s nothing wrong. Don’t worry—this will only take a moment.”

The scientist’s arms wound around the bed one last time, forcing Peter’s back to lay flush against the cot, sealing his fate. Giggly panic claimed him as Reed’s hands reached for his defenseless torso, fingers hovering just above his incredibly vulnerable sides. 

“Wahait, wait, wait! I prohomise I’m not hurt! I’m just—I’m r-really—EEHAHAHAGH!”

Ten blunt fingertips drilled into Spider-Man’s rib cage just below his armpits, pinching and tweaking each layer of bone, feeling for any breaks or fractures. But the only thing crumbling beneath Reed’s touch was the teenage hero he had strapped to the hospital bed, who was shrieking and writhing in response to the gentle pressure the scientist was applying to his sides. Not in pain, like he’d been expecting—but with laughter. Puzzled, Mr. Fantastic lifted his hands off the wriggly vigilante, an amused smile tugging at his lip as he realized what was happening.  

“It would seem I made a miscalculation,” he determined. “Other than being exceptionally ticklish, your ribs are perfectly healthy. Please forgive me for questioning your dissent on the matter.” He leveled a frown on his beguiling teammate, who looked positively enraptured by Spider-Man’s skittish giggles. “How cruel of you to lie to me for the purpose of embarrassing your friend. That’s not very amicable of you.”

Johnny beamed at him with zero remorse as he skipped across the room to stand at the masked hero’s bedside. “I didn’t lie,” he said shrewdly. “You’re just not doing it right.” He cracked his knuckles and extended his hands, spidering his fingers right above Spider-Man’s narrow frame, making the vigilante flinch sideways with a gasp. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

“Noho!” Spidey cried, wrenching uselessly against Reed’s iron grip, all his dignity down the drain. “Dr. Richards—pleehease! He’s gonna kihill me!”

“Johnny…” Mr. Fantastic said disapprovingly. But his giddy teammate was already scribbling his fingers up both sides of Spider-Man’s rib cage, sending the poor, defenseless hero into complete hysterics. He thrashed and screeched and hiccuped with laughter, the bright sound of it bouncing off the lofted windows of the tower. It was so kiddy and shrill in nature, Richards was more inclined to believe that the giggly little menace could in fact be a teenager, not the full-grown adult his teammates and the world somehow mistook him for.

“STAHAHAP!” he cackled, laughing so hard that his giggles fell silent. Johnny wormed his fingers between each rung of his ribs, needling the most ticklish parts of him with intolerable veracity, short circuiting the helpless vigilante’s brain. 

“Not until you admit that this is your greatest weakness!” Johnny teased him like a supervillain, heart bursting with endearment as the webhead fell to pieces beneath his tickle attack. The noises and reactions his wiggly hands were eliciting were straight-up altering the Human Torch’s brain chemistry. Johnny had always been infatuated by Spidey’s laugh since the irresistible sound had first graced his ears, taking root dead center in his once precisely siloed mind. He’d heard Spider-Man break into giggles and laughter of all different varieties in the short time they’d spent together, each kind delightful and infectious in their own special way, which Johnny had made a point to note down and rate from least to greatest. But this one put them all to shame. This was on a whole new level of addicting. His tickle-induced laugh was by far his most adorable, and without a doubt Johnny’s favorite. 

He absolutely needed to get a video of this out to the fans. Who on earth could hear him giggle like this and not instantly fall in love?

Before he’d gotten his fill of Spidey’s incandescent laughter or had a chance to whip out his phone, Reed unraveled his noodle-like appendages from Spider-Man’s squirmy limbs, liberating the teen from the inescapable knot he’d tangled him into. Once he realized he was free, Spidey shot upright and seized Johnny by the wrists, shoving his hands away from his rib cage as fast as humanly possible, gulping down oxygen, eye lenses shuttered into thin slits. 

“Oho my god,” Spider-Man heaved, doubling over himself, breathless with residual laughter. “I hate you s-so much right now…”

“Aww,” Johnny whined in disappointment. “Why’d you let him go?” He leered at his teammate as Richards’ arms shrunk back to their original length. 

“I wasn’t going to just keep him trapped while you subjected him to that torment,” Reed stated plainly, eyeing the vigilante with a benevolent smile. “I will not be an accomplice to your maniacal scheme to tickle your friend to death.”

“You’re no fun,” Johnny pouted. He turned back towards Spider-Man, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face as he watched the giggly hero fight to catch his breath. “So then, bug boy. Tell me again what our friendly neighborhood Webhead’s weakness is?”

“You’re such a dihick,” Spider-Man wheezed, flopping backwards onto the bed with his arms wrapped around his torso. Johnny would give anything to see how red his face was right now. “Why do you always do this to me after I’ve been beaten half to death? Uhugh…”

Reed finished off the last of his coffee and cast his gaze between the two teens fondly. “Looks like my job is done here,” he said as he moved towards the elevator. “Now that you’re both sufficiently patched up, I recommend fluids, pain killers, and plenty of rest. As for your back, Spider-Man, it didn’t feel heavily bruised or swollen to me, but I imagine it must be pretty sore.”

“Very,” the vigilante groaned, stretching his spine with stiff movements.

“Perhaps a massage would do you some good. I heard Colonel Rhodes mention that your team had a masseuse on-call for training days like this. I’d ask Stark about it.”

Johnny hopped eagerly to the foot of Spider-Man’s bed. “Hey! I can do it! I give great massages.”

Spidey sat up gingerly and swung his feet off the side of the cot. “Yeah, no thanks. I think I’m good.”

“What?” Johnny exclaimed, heartbroken. “Why not?” 

“Because I know you and how your sadistic mind works,” he giggled nervously. “You’ll just use it as another ploy to be a conniving little shit. You won’t be able to help yourself. It’s, like, hardwired into your DNA. You’re far too evil to be trusted.”

The masked vigilante slipped off the bed and moved to leave, but Johnny jumped in front of him, grabbing hold of his wrist. “Spidey! Come on! I’m sorry, all right? I promise I’ll be nice. No funny business. I want to help, and Reed said it’d be good for you.” The teen cracked a smile. “Call it my repayment for making you shriek like a little girl.”

“Ah, yes. Bullying me some more while you pretend to apologize. That’ll convince me.”

“Oh my god. I shouldn’t have to be convincing you in the first place! Do you know how much some people would pay for Johnny Storm to service them like this? And not just ‘cuz of who I am, but because I’m really good at it.”

“I’d rather just pop a few Advils and pass out on the couch,” Spider-Man replied with playful indignation. “Advils and the couch don’t have secret agendas to dig their insidious fingers into my ribs.” 

“I won’t! I swear!” Johnny’s voice was laced with giggly mischief as he tugged at Spider-Man’s arm. “Just gimme a chance, Webs. One chance? You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

Reed watched the two heroes bicker back and forth as he waited for the elevator to descend to the 66th floor, a warm and quiet nostalgia taking shape in his chest. They seemed to have forgotten about his presence entirely, too busy squabbling for each other’s trust and attention. There was a tender shyness between them that reminded Richards of when he and Susan first met, back before the space mission or Thanos or even the Fantastic Four were a thing. A transcendent pulse of hope, excitement, and nerves that made all the colors in the world stand out like they never had before—something that time and hardship had so ruthlessly stripped away from them after all they’d been through. So much had changed; so much gained and lost. Reed found it corrosive: reminiscing too long on their bittersweet memories together. He just hoped he and Sue could find their way back to each other one day; back to those two kids brimming with that same untameable spark Johnny and the vigilante now shared. 

Whatever Spider-Man and Johnny were to each other, there was an effusive bond between the pair that no amount of lies or masks could ever conceal. But with how happy Johnny was acting at present, Reed couldn’t help but assume they were romantically involved. The superhero girl the vigilante supposedly kissed had certainly thrown his theories for a loop, but she very well could be another fabrication. If the two were dating or together or something in between, it was clear they didn’t want anyone else to know about it. Not right now, anyway. 

So he would respect their wishes and not push Johnny on the subject any further. Teenage relationships were hard enough without super powers and secret identities and nosy teammates involved. He was content with staying quiet and protecting their peace, all the while silently rooting for them from the sidelines. 

As the elevator doors swept shut in front of him, Dr. Richards wondered how long the boys thought they could keep this flimsy charade going with the others. At this rate, he doubted they’d last a week before one of them slipped up. 

_______________________________

“Now will you let me work my unmatched back rubbing magic?”

Peter took another slow sip from the mug in his hands, a heavenly combination of whipped cream, mini marshmallows, and warm chocolate perfection gliding down his throat, touching the very essence of his soul. Damn you, Johnny Storm, he thought bitterly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. If that wasn’t the best fucking cup of cocoa he’d ever had in his life, then his name wasn’t Peter Benjamin Parker.

“See, the fact that you want to so bad proves you plan to do something diabolical. Uh-uh. No way.”

Johnny scooted closer to him on the couch, grinning menacingly. “Oh, I’m chock full of diabolical plans, I can assure you that. But I’m saving those for later.” He raised a hand to Peter’s cheek and turned his face towards him, trailing a finger under his chin. “Right now, I just want to do something nice for you and help ease your pain a little. And also make you admit how amazing I am at it.”

Attraction and affection squiggled and swirled all around Peter’s belly. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to how exhilarating it felt to be looked at like this, looked at by him. A timid smile overtook his features.

“You know, it’s a bit unfair for you to be amazing at literally everything you do.”

Johnny laughed softly. “Not everything,” he conceded, hand sweeping to rest on the nape of Peter’s neck. “No matter how much I ask or beg, never let me convince you I’m capable of cutting your hair. You will end up with some choppy perversion of a bowl cut, and you will hate me for it.”

“Duly noted,” Peter giggled back. Bending to the magnetic pull between them, he pressed his mouth to Johnny’s expecting lips, pure euphoria cascading through his cells, followed by a bolt of uncertainty as he tried to remember all the things Johnny had suggested he try to make kissing him more enjoyable. Fortunately, he didn’t get the chance to clumsily attempt any of them; Johnny reared back only seconds after initiating the kiss, hissing in frustration. 

“Ow! My stupid fucking lip!” 

Peter winced, cupping a hand over his mouth. “Sorry! I forgot.”

“Goddamn Tony and his damn metal sucker punches,” Johnny whimpered, nibbling feebly at the gash. “How am I supposed to cover you in hickies under these conditions?”

Jitters ricocheted around his tummy as heat tingled across his skin. “Until you’re healed, I guess I’ll have to be the one who covers you in hickies…” Peter mumbled, setting Johnny’s shoulders ablaze in an instant. “I—I mean, if that’s what you want.”

“Good lordy, Webs,” Johnny squeaked, ears glowing pink as he swooned and fanned himself. “I’m gonna light this whole tower on fire if you keep talking to me like that. Maybe your flirting game isn’t as terrible as I thought.”

Peter chuckled and blushed as Johnny interlaced his fingers with his and snuggled in close to him, laying his head on his shoulder. “And yes, I would love that,” he added with a giggle. After a minute of basking in each other’s warmth and presence and closeness, the current of indescribable happiness moving through Peter’s bloodstream suddenly came to a grinding halt.

“Do you think FRIDAY is recording us right now?” he whispered, voice tinged with dread. “Anyone can request access to her footage, and there are cameras on every floor of the tower. What if one of our teammates looks through her logs and sees us…y’know. Acting couple-y?”

Johnny lifted his head with a scowl. “That sounds a bit pervy, don’t yah think? Does that mean she’s filmed Reed and my sister doing it in their bedroom every night, and I could just ask her to show it to me if I was sick enough to want that? Yuck!”

Peter grimaced. “Oh god. I hope not. I seriously doubt Mr. Stark would allow that.”

“Why don’t you just ask her and see?”

Reluctantly, Peter raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Hey, FRIDAY?” he called, feeling a bit silly.

“Yes, Spider-Man?” the A.I. replied, omnipresent as ever. 

Peter hunched his shoulders. “Could you, um...not record us when we’re kissing or cuddling or doing any romantic stuff, please? And also maybe not tell anyone that we’re together?”

“I am programmed not to record any explicit or intimate interactions in Avengers Tower,” she assured him. Then, after a pause, added: “Unless I am directly instructed to do so by all involved and consenting parties over the age of 18.”

“Oh my god,” the boys groaned in unison, barring their brains from considering the implications behind her words. “Ew.”

“I’m also required to refrain from recording anything authorized users ask me not to record, as well as delete any files I’m told to delete. Since both of you are authorized users, from now on, all audio and video recording will be shut off or deleted instantly when you do or say anything that could be construed as romantic. Would you like me to delete past files that match that criteria as well?”

“Yes please,” Peter remarked bashfully. 

“Done and done,” she answered after a beat, drawing a sigh of relief from the masked hero’s lips. One less outing risk to worry about.

“Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“Of course,” the A.I. replied cheerfully. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Johnny quirked an eyebrow at the dim lights overhead. “You said I’m an authorized user, too. Does that mean I can ask you to send me videos you’ve recorded as well?”

“That is correct. As long as it’s not footage from anyone’s private quarters or other forbidden content, I can send you any audio or video you want.”

A villainous grin sliced across Johnny’s face. “How about the footage of Spidey laughing his ass off when I tickled him earlier today?” 

Peter balked, going scarlet. Johnny snickered maliciously.

“Yes, I can send that to you. Let me just—”

“No!” Peter yelped. “Delete that! Delete all footage like that from now until forever!”

“Spidey!” Johnny protested. The A.I. let out a small chuckle.

“I’m afraid requests for erasure override all other requests. My apologies, Mr. Storm. The files have now been deleted.”

“Aw, man,” Johnny lamented, slumping back into the couch cushions. “Why would you do that? That was the cutest video to ever exist!”

“More like most humiliating,” Peter muttered shyly.

“You know what this means, right?” Johnny said with a smirk, wiggling his fingers at him. “Now I’m gonna have to get you like that all over again. And this time, I’ll make sure my phone is recording.”

A startled squeal sprung from his throat before he could stop it. Peter grabbed Johnny’s hands and held them away from himself while the celebrity cackled and beamed, flushed crimson beneath his mask. “Why are you obsessed with embarrassing me all the time?” he giggled miserably. 

“Your laugh is the thing I’m actually obsessed with,” Johnny clarified, his watercolor eyes sparkling in awe. “It might be my favorite thing in the entire world.”

Spider-Man reddened even deeper. Only Johnny could affix him with feelings as confounding and conflicting as these. He felt self-conscious and flustered beyond all reason, yet adored and desired more than ever before in his life. How was he supposed to tell Johnny off when he was looking at him like that? The vigilante groaned.

“There are other ways to get me to laugh, you know. Nicer, less mortifying ways.”

“Not like that,” Johnny insisted, teasing yet enamored. “Not as quickly or reliably, either. Unlike me, you’re a naturally funny person. You make me laugh all the time without even trying. Getting you to laugh requires a much more hands-on approach.” He feigned a jab at Spidey’s side, making the adorable hero shrink inwards with a screech. “Especially when I want to hear you laugh like that.”

“You’re plehenty funny!” Peter retorted, shoving him into the opposite corner of the couch. Johnny fell against the cushions with a giggle. 

“Not enough to make you laugh as much as my greedy heart demands,” he shot back, rising onto his elbows. “Hearing it is like an instant dopamine hit. It is, without a doubt, your most powerful asset to get fans and haters alike to fall in love with you.”

“You’re just saying that so you can have an excuse to humiliate me some more for the entire world to see.”

Johnny crawled back to his side and nestled into his lap with a saccharine smile, tracing a lazy finger up Peter’s arm and along his collarbone. “Oh yeah? And what if I am?”

Goosebumps prickled across Spider-Man’s sizzling flesh. His heart danced and fluttered just below the surface of his skin, quickening in unison with the delicate brushstrokes Johnny’s fingertip was painting him with. This boy was getting way too good at propelling his pulse to its steepest limits. Peter very well might drop dead from all the strain he was putting his cardiovascular system through, but there were far worse ways for a lovesick teenager to go. Swallowing meekly, he sank into the sofa with his arms folded across his torso. 

“Well, now I’m definitely not letting you rub my back.” 

Johnny’s grin dropped in the most heart-wrenching manner imaginable. “Spidey! Come on! You have to! Reed said it was medically necessary!”

“I’ve managed to survive this long without it. I think I’ll take my chances.”

The celebrity squeezed his arm and arrested him with those striking baby blues. “One minute. Let me work my magic for just one short minute, and if you hate it, I’ll stop right then and there, and never bug you about it again.”

It was alarming how quickly all of Peter’s willpower disintegrated with one glance too long into Johnny Storm’s beseeching gaze. When he cast those eyes of sea salt and brine across his soluble, spidery heart, the Human Torch could convince him of just about anything—and he knew it, too. Yet another power Johnny had no qualms exacting against him at a whim, made ever stronger by their growing affections for each other.

Peter thumped his head against the back of the sofa with a defeated sigh. “You’re so pretty, it’s actually stupid.”

“I know,” Johnny replied shamelessly, pinching his arm tighter. “Is that a yes?”

“What about your bubble bath?”

“It’ll still be there when I’m done pampering you. If it goes cold, I’ll just heat it up again.”  

Spider-Man paused, sifting through his brain for more excuses, then lifted his hand and carded three hesitant fingers through Johnny’s rose gold locks, making the seraphic celebrity blush. “Can I pet your hair after? I’ve always wanted to run my hands through your hair. It just looks so soft.”

Johnny was practically glowing with glee. “If you let me give you a massage, you can do whatever the hell you want to me.”

“Ooh. Like dying your hair purple? I was just imagining how much hotter you’d look with a bright magenta balayage.”

The Human Torch scrunched up his nose. “No, I meant—ugh. Never mind. Hair petting sounds great. Let’s stick with that.” He hopped off the couch and took Peter’s hands in his. “Now lay down on your tummy. I’m about to change your life.”

Tentatively, Peter sprawled flat across the cushions with his arms folded underneath his head, feeling a little out of his element. “If you try anything, I’m gonna kick you into the ceiling,” he grumbled. 

“I would never,” Johnny insisted, draping a hand over his heart. “I gave you my word, didn’t I?” The celebrity rubbed his palms together eagerly and loomed over Spider-Man’s prostrate form. “Have you ever had a hot stone massage before?”

“No. I’ve never had any massage before.”

“Well, this will feel kinda like that but without the stones. One of the many advantages of being able to control my body temperature.” He laid his hands on Peter’s shoulder blades, thumbs resting on the edges of the large spider symbol on his back. “It would probably feel better if you ditched the onesie, but since you’re a massage virgin, I’ll let you keep it on the first time.”

Peter snorted, twitchy and restless. With slow, methodical movements. Johnny began kneading his fingers deep into the masked hero’s sore muscles, the warmth radiating from his hands melting the pain away like butter. Peter tensed beneath his touch at first, then gradually let his body go slack, although it felt impossible to settle completely. 

“Whoa,” Johnny exclaimed, gliding his palms up the entirety of his back. “You’re, like, really stiff, Webs. Your whole back feels like one big, angry knot.” He ground the heel of his palm into the spot where Peter’s neck met his right shoulder, making him wince a little. “Have you ever relaxed a day in your life?”

“Does playing Animal Crossing count as relaxing?” he asked with a halfhearted chuckle. “Probably not the way I do it. All I do all day is shake every tree and try to catch fish. I always press the reel button a second too soon! That damn coelacanth still evades me. It’s the last fish I need to complete my collection in the aquarium part of the museum. My friend is in charge of catching the bugs since collecting both is such a hassle.”

Johnny worked his hands into either side of Spidey’s lower back, which ached tremendously in the best way possible. “I don’t really know what nerd thing you’re yammering on about this time, but I agree: that does not sound conducive to relaxation.” He rubbed his muscles in long, smooth passes, changing positions and techniques and pressure levels without lifting his hands from his body. “Now shut up and stop being goddamn rigid. Let everything go heavy and sink into the couch.” 

“I can’t,” he giggled sheepishly. “I don’t know how.”

“Just relax. Loosen up. Take slow, deep breaths, and soften your muscles one by one.”

Peter considered arguing with him some more, but all his thoughts began to slip and dissipate the longer Johnny kneaded his back. The heat from his hands combined with the perfect alternation of movement and compression was turning his muscles to jelly and his mind into mashed potatoes. It was like he was a ball of lumpy clay that Johnny was rubbing free of imperfections and sculpting into a masterpiece of his own design. All of it felt heavenly on his stiff and aching body, especially around his neck and upper shoulders. The pain and soreness plaguing him evaporated into nothing beneath his superheated touch, along with every worry or care he’d ever had in his life. Before he knew it, his eyes had slipped shut, limbs limp, teeth unclenched, head full of bliss and incense as it lolled to one side. 

“There you go. Much better.” Johnny swept his hands from the middle of Spidey’s back all the way to the base of his skull, the cords of lean muscles rippling beneath his fingers springy and captivating to the touch. “Seeing that it’s been well over a minute now and you haven’t asked me to stop yet, I assume you’re enjoying this? It feels nice, right? Did I or did I not tell you that my back rubs are to die for?”

When Spider-Man didn’t answer, Johnny’s palms paused on top of his neck. “Spidey?” he said. He bent down and craned his neck to take a look at his face. The masked hero’s eye lenses had shuttered closed, and his cheek was smooshed carelessly against his forearm. His back rose and fell in slow, rhythmic waves underneath Johnny’s hands. Chest warming with endearment, the Human Torch smiled from ear to ear.

“Huh. Guess I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” Keeping one hand on his shoulder, Johnny eased onto the couch right beside his head, kneading and petting his snoozing form with softer strokes of his fingers. “Who needs Advil when you’ve got me?” he asked quietly, gazing upon the sleepy hero with all the affection in the universe. He sat that way for a while, watching him nap and rubbing his back as feathers of fondness tickled his insides. 

After a few minutes, Johnny sank back into the cushions with a sigh, pulling his phone out with his free hand. “Hey FRIDAY?” he called in a slightly hushed tone, not wanting to wake the slumbering vigilante. 

“Yes, Mr. Storm?” she answered, matching his volume.

“Would you mind sending me all the best clips of Spider-Man from our team-building exercise today? I have a fun little edit I’ve been meaning to put together, but haven’t had any good footage to use until now.”

The A.I.’s voice brightened with mischievous interest. “Certainly. It would be my pleasure.”

“You’re the best.”

_______________________________

Susan’s breath fogged away from her mouth in ghostly clouds as she leaned against the cold metal of a shipping container, watching the lights of boats bob across the dark waters of the channel before her. She rolled her shoulders, still sore from her and Clint Barton's battle against Natasha Romanoff and Janet Van Dyne. Those women really knew how to punch. She and Clint did manage to save the civilian, but not without taking at least four roundhouse kicks and five other heavy blows between them, not including all the cuts and burns they'd sustained from those combat daggers and electrified batons the Black Widow was so privy to. Trucks and other transport vehicles dotted the runway between her and the bay, blocking out the city skyline like massive metal beasts in hibernation, waiting patiently to be brought back to life. 

By this hour, most of the port’s workers had gone home for the night. She’d watched them stomp out their cigarettes and lumber back to their cars, veiled from sight with her invisibility powers. But there was one person who stayed behind. One who had claimed to have a special overtime agreement with the boss that no one else did. The one now creeping around the shipping yard with nothing but their phone to light their path. The one Sue had been waiting for.

The Invisible Woman stood motionless as the worker passed in front of her, entering the graveyard of shipping containers on high alert. She waited a few seconds before silently tailing her, matching her footsteps to the woman’s to mask any sounds that might give her away. The shipyard worker led her through the sea of metal containers for about four minutes, glancing feverishly between the boxes and over her shoulder, until finally stopping in front of a bright green one with a black “X” painted in the bottom right corner. Drenched in sweat, the woman unlatched the lock and threw the door open. Kernels of what looked like animal feed spilled out of the opening at her feet. The entire container was filled with it; it looked at least a foot deep.

What is this? Sue thought, watching the woman wade into the kernels and start digging around. About thirty seconds passed before she pulled something solid out of the oats and seeds. When Susan realized what it was, her heart sank.

Shit.

With trembling hands, the woman placed the large bag of indiscriminate but obviously illegal drugs on top of the mound of feed and held her phone out, snapping a photo of it. Her thumbs flew across the screen as she searched for a contact to text the picture to. Her shivering finger hovered over the “send” button. 

“Don’t.”

The women froze. An instant later, she whipped around with a gasp, head snapping from side to side. Sue dropped her disguise, making her gasp a second time as she staggered backwards, banging against the container. 

“Who—who are you?” she choked out raggedly, eyes bleak with terror. 

“My name is Susan Storm,” she answered calmly, taking a cautious step towards her. “I’m with the Fantastic Four. You’re Willow Casavana, correct?”

A flicker of recognition crossed the woman’s expression, but the fear remained intact. “W-what do you want?” she stuttered, hand drifting towards her tote bag. “Why are you here?”

“I want to help you,” Dr. Storm explained. “I spoke with your boss.”

“My boss?” she sputtered, panic gripping her voice. “What did you tell her?”

“She’s an old friend of mine. She told me that some of her employees have been acting strange lately. Requesting odd hours, logging shipments and deliveries incorrectly, lying about things they never have before despite being good and honest people. She’s worked with you and many others on this dock for decades now and considers you as close as family. She knows something isn’t right.”

Tears glistened in the woman’s bloodshot eyes. Her legs wobbled beneath her.

“She knows you and a few more of her workers have been moving illegal materials through her shipyard,” Susan continued, eyeing the hefty bag of drugs perched on top of the animal feed. “But she hasn’t gone to the authorities about it yet because she knows this isn’t who you are. You wouldn’t do this unless you were in an incredibly desperate situation, or being forced to against your will.”

The woman shook her head slowly back and forth. “You don’t understand,” she croaked breathlessly. “You shouldn’t have talked to her. You shouldn’t have followed me.”

Sue held out her hands, palms upright. “Someone is making you do this. I can help you if you tell me who it is.”

The cellphone shuddered in Willow’s clammy grip. “It’s too late,” she said, pale cheeks wet with tears. “He’ll find out. He always finds out.” She wilted listlessly against the metal door, eyes hollow with despair. “He’s going to kill my brother.”

“Who’s going to kill your brother?” Susan pressed her. When she didn’t respond, Susan laid a hand against her chest. “I’m a superhero. I have connections. We’ll protect your brother. We’ll protect you and anyone else he’s threatening and extorting to do his dirty work. I promise we can get you out of this if you tell us who’s making you do this.” 

The cold wind whipped at the woman’s long braids, snagging strands from the neatly woven plaits. “He’s just a kid,” she wept into the icy breeze. “He doesn’t deserve this. He worked so hard to get into that school. He’s studying to be a speech pathologist.” She clutched her throat like some invisible force was suffocating her, eyes distant and glassy. “They sent me pictures of him on his campus. Walking to class, playing soccer with his friends, doing homework. They said they’d kill him if I didn’t do what they said, or if I told anyone what they were asking of me. They said they'd torture him to death and make it look like an accident.”

Susan’s jaw tightened. Just like Spider-Man said. Holding the lives of people’s loved ones hostage to get them to carry out his demands. So the little menace wasn’t lying after all. She took a step closer to the crying woman, rage and sympathy warring in her chest. 

“It’s Wilson Fisk, isn’t it?” she asked softly. The worker’s sobs caught in her throat. She raised her desolate gaze to hers, breaths rattling in her lungs.

“Who told you that?” she whispered. 

“I can get you and your brother away from him,” Susan assured her. “Do you know any other employees on this dock who he might be exploiting?”

“W-we’re not supposed to say his name,” she breathed. “Not ever. He's gonna think it was me who told you. You've…doomed us. You’ve doomed us all.”

Dr. Storm dropped her hands to her sides, startled and confused. Slowly, the woman’s horrified expression twisted into a vengeful glare. 

“This is all your fault,” she snarled. “This was my last assignment before he promised to cut me loose. I was done after this. I was free.” She smashed her phone into the pavement, an anguished, bestial wail tearing out of her. “Why did you have to get involved? You’ve ruined everything!”

“We can’t keep letting him do this to people. Even if he honored his word and left you and your brother alone, he’d just find someone else to terrorize and manipulate. We have to stop him from ever—”

The woman shoved her hand into her tote bag and pulled out a pistol, the weapon shuddering in her grip as she aimed it at Susan Storm’s face. A forcefield shot up between them on instinct, materializing in front of Sue’s outstretched palm. 

“Ms. Casavana,” Susan said tautly. “Drop the gun. Now.”

“You’ve killed us,” the woman bawled. “We’re all dead now because of you.”

“Willow, listen to me—”

“He’s all I have left. I can’t lose him, too.”

“You won’t. I’ll make sure you won’t. Just drop the gun.”

“You know you’ll be the next one he comes after,” Ms. Casavana drawled ominously. “You and everyone you care about. Not even people like you are safe.” She thumbed the safety of the pistol off, the sharp click tolling above the gusting winds. “Why couldn’t you just stay out of it?”

Cold talons closed around Susan’s heart. “Willow, please—”

“I’m so sorry, Jayden,” the woman rasped, raising her tear-streaked face to the starless sky. “Please tell him I’m so, so sorry.”

Susan blinked. And suddenly, the gun was no longer pointing at her. Suddenly, it was pressed against the side of Ms. Casavana’s head. Ice and terror shot through her bloodstream as she shattered the forcefield between herself and Willow, surging forward to stop her.

“No—don’t!”

BANG!

Time went still for a moment. The howl of the wind waltzed with the shrill ring echoing in Susan’s ears. She had panicked, and tried to form a forcefield inside the barrel of the gun. Tried to stop the bullet from exiting the weapon. Since the pistol was already against her head, she didn’t know how else to prevent her from taking her own life. It's not like she could fit one between the gun and her skull. But she had never made a forcefield that small and precise before. Certainly never so fast, or while under so much pressure. She was still new to these powers, after all. Still working to master the delicate intricacies of how to control them. Making a shield quick enough, tiny enough, and strong enough to stop a bullet that was flying through an object an inconclusive distance away from herself beneath the inky veil of night was dicey at best, bordering on impossible. Which is why when the splash of blood hit her in the face, the hands, the chest, Susan Storm was horrified, but not surprised.

She hadn’t been fast enough. She had failed. 

Sue heard Willow’s body slump against the ground, but she didn’t see it. All she saw were the dark stains spattered across her gloves and the red droplets dripping off her fingertips. All she could feel was the empty numbness between her ribs and the sickly warmth of bloody rivulets slipping down her forehead, her hair, her eyelids, her lips. 

She was gone. Just like that. A soul, a life, snuffed out in an instant. A woman was dead because of her. Her naivety, her ignorance, her impatience and lack of discipline. It was Susan's fault she was no longer alive.

Willow Casavana was dead. A sister with a sibling she’d do anything to keep safe. Even this. 

Sue turned her palm towards herself, body trembling, breaths shallow and threadbare. Her hand flickered in and out of visibility in parallel with her frenzied heartbeat. But unlike the rest of her, the splotches of blood didn’t disappear.

There were at least seven other people working on this dock whom her friend suspected of being blackmailed or threatened. Would they do the same thing as Willow if she approached them about this? Were there lives now in danger as well? The lives of their loved ones? How many others in this city did he have under his heel? How many innocents forced to do his bidding? How far and wide did this depravity extend? How had she been blind to it for so long?

The air around her drained of oxygen. She had mentioned Fisk's name to her friend. She had told her to keep quiet about it, but still. Could he find out what they'd discussed? What if he already knew? She had to warn her. She had to warn Reed and the others, too. If this woman was willing to kill herself rather than face Fisk's wrath, she could only imagine how gruesome their threats must've been towards her brother.

Her brother.

Susan's blood went cold. 

Johnny.

Was he in danger now too because of her?

No. They were too high profile. Fisk could get away with threatening people who were outside of the public eye. But not them; certainly not him. He was one of the biggest celebrities in the world. Not to mention, a superhero surrounded by powerful allies. No one would dare to target him.

Right?

Susan's thoughts and pulse were moving too fast. She had to call the police. A woman was dead. But didn't Spider-Man say the NYPD were also at Fisk's beck and call? Either way, she couldn't just not call the police. A woman was dead. Her hands and face were drenched in her blood. The warm, coppery tang of it coated her tongue, turning her stomach. Her lungs were lead in her chest. A woman was dead. She had to call 911. Where was her phone? Did she drop it somewhere? A woman was dead. She was dead, and it was her fault. 

Spider-Man was right, Sue realized with building horror, cupping her blood-soaked hand over her lips as she backed away from the motionless body, the crimson pool at her feet growing wider and darker and deeper. 

Wilson Fisk was a monster.

[aeaeaexxzd]

cant wait to do my master in television writing and producing next yr

Season 6 of The Walking Dead should’ve been the final season. For one, accuracy to the source material is not relevant because the televised remake was never intended to be from the very start. 

Secondly, there’s a reason they chose this black and white timeline system in the 6th season, remember that ? I don’t necessarily fuck with it but it’s a marker, it says something, so it doesn’t make any sense, stylistically, to go in that direction and then abandon it along the way, unless it had actual weight.

I’m aware of, and I understand the cultural impact that the character Negan had, it revived the show right after it would’ve been appropriate to end it. But I have a tendency to believe that if you can’t do something right with good intentions then you shouldn’t do it at all. Negan worked, he became even more iconic and marketable than Rick, and that’s all that mattered.

And in hindsight, I think that Negan’s storyline could’ve easily been told in the earlier seasons. He could have happened soon after the The Governors storyline or even replaced it completely, seeing as he wasn’t as much of a hit anyways. 

Commercially, ending a show like this after 6 or 7 seasons doesn’t work, we’re talking about money. And it’s when a story becomes solely about profit, that it truly dies, and that’s when watching a show like this becomes a chore for me. I’m not seeing quality, because I’m not seeing love for the story, for the characters, and for all the people who have to work on the project. 

The longer you make a show like The Walking Dead last, the more you risk ruining it. A lot of loyal viewers of audiences from many different shows can vouch for this about their favorite pieces of media. They’ll say “it got kinda bad towards the end” or “I stopped after x season”. I know for a fact that Glenn’s death on the show in season 7 lowered the viewership count significantly. Not to mention it’s release in 2016 was facing new competitors like Stranger Things, Lucifer, the Crown (Netflix), Westworld (HBO) and many more. It’s blatant the the show lost it’s relevancy. Nowadays it’s barely talked about, even less with the spectacular debut of the series adaptation of The Last of Us. People were craving a story like that, (survivalism, the apocalypse, love, found family) not because there hadn’t been one in a while, but because the one that already existed was failing. It’s easy to ruin a show. It’s easy to let things crumble and to make the wrong decisions. 

If you’re going to make a show last as long as 11 seasons, you have to do it right, and it has to be worth it. The audience matters. Fans and casual viewers alike give TV shows life and reputation. You can’t give them what they want, but you can’t punish them either. I genuinely don’t understand the choice behind this. People would have remembered The Walking Dead for what it was : an excellent apocalyptic, horror drama and thriller and ending the show at 6 seasons, or even 7 would not have hurt anyone, especially not the viewers.  

It seems that these days good stories are either cut short or prolonged until they are no longer so. There’s TV and there’s storytelling. You can have storytelling without TV but you can’t have TV without storytelling. And one of the main rules about telling a story is that it needs a good beginning just as much as it needs a good end. This is why you bring up Breaking Bad. This is why you bring up Avatar the Last Airbender. When a story ends where it’s supposed to you are left with good memories and accolades from everyone. It’s almost silly that a show about corpses walking around would end up one itself.

[cyarsk52-20]

Vanderpump Rules’ Ariana Madix to finally break silence on Tom Sandoval and Raquel Leviss’ affair in tell-all interview

Angelica Cheyenne

Updated: 22:58 ET, May 10 2023

VANDERPUMP Rules star Ariana Madix has agreed to sit down with Andy Cohen on his show Watch What Happens Live! to give her perspective on her ex Tom Sandavol's infidelity.

WWHL host Andy mentioned during his appearance on The View on Wednesday that Bravopersonality Ariana would visit his show to discuss Tom's affair with Raquel Leviss. 

6Vanderpump Rules star Ariana Madix is finally breaking her silence on ex Tom SandavolCredit: Getty

6Fellow Vanderpump Rules star Tom made headlines earlier this year for cheating on ArianaCredit: Bravo

6Tom cheated on Ariana with their fellow co-star Raquel LevissCredit: Instagram/raquelleviss

The 54-year-old media personality divulged on the morning show that following the premiere of Vanderpump Rules season ten finale on May 17, the 37-year-old would appear on WWHL, which airs after.

Andy teased that Ariana would speak out "for the first time" since the news of her ex slash co-star Tom, 39, cheating on her with their co-star Raquel, 28, broke in March.

A week after the Vanderpump Rules' last show of the season, and Andy's juicy interview with Ariana, the reality show's season reunion will air May 24. 

When View host Alyssa Farah Griffin, 33, asked the late-night anchor what fans could expect on the reunion, Andy gave a telling inside scoop. 

Read more on Vanderpump Rules

"I can tell you, Tom Sandavol was really a shell of himself at the reunion," Andy admitted.

Alyssa chimed in "as he should be," amid Andy elaborating on his point. 

Continuing, Andy added that Tom was "shaking [and] was thin" during the reunion. 

Fans of Vanderpump Rules shared on Twitter that they were highly anticipating not only Ariana joining Andy at his famed Clubhouse but also the Vanderpump Rules reunion. 

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SECRET'S OUT 

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THE HEAT IS ON

"Ariana is about to break the ratings record & light the clubhouse on fire [fire emoji]. I AM SO READY," one fan exclaimed in a tweet.

Another added: "WWHL ratings record about to be broken."

A third fan raved: "I can’t wait. This has become a huge part of my life..."

A fourth person declared: "This will be epic gold reality TV."

A fifth fan noted: "I can’t wait!! I’m not sure how I’ll sleep the night prior…."

Someone else hoped that Ariana was the only guest at The Clubhouse during her appearance on WWHL next Wednesday. 

SHOCKING SCANDAL

The news broke in early March that Tom and Raquel had been having an affair since July 2022.

Ariana found out about the cheating rumors and ended things with Tom soon after, according to TMZ.

A source claims that producers got word of what went down, and have made the decision to film with the entire cast to document the fallout.

The drama could even make it into season ten of Vanderpump Rules.

Ariana supported Tom's band to support the release of his new single, but that was the last time the ex-couple was seen together.

Sources close to the group tell TMZ that the pair have been on the rocks for a while.

After news broke, Raquel's ex-fiancé James Kennedy posted to Instagram: "Hope you all feel as sick as I do. This explains everything."

She ended their engagement back in December 2021 admitting her "heart wasn't fully in it."

DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS 

Shortly after Tom's unfaithfulness came to light in March, fans spotted a foreshadowing of his affairwith Raquel in the background of a Vanderpump Rules scene aired in April.

In a scene from the white party where the entire cast was visibly intoxicated, Ariana, Tom, and Raquel discussed her kiss with Tom Schwartz, 40. 

Tom Sandoval repeatedly uttered Raquel's name until it caused Ariana to snap: "Tom stop! You're acting weird."

"What! I'm not acting anything..." he shot back

But Ariana pressed: "Why do you keep saying Raquel, Raquel, Raquel?"

Tom replied: "Cause she made out with Schwartz."

This comment left Ariana stunned as she turned to her then-best friend and said: "You what?"

"I need details," she added, as Raquel laughed in the background.

"It was just a moment but like a lot of people cheered so I don't know who saw."

Ariana clasped her hands over her mouth in disbelief, saying: "People cheered?"

Raquel explained: "We just had a cute little moment and he was like I'm down to make out if you are."

Later, Tom approached the brunette and smacked her arm with a card, saying: "Hey Raquel, Raquel, here's Schwartz's room key."

Ariana snapped: "Tom get the f**k out of here. Tom, you're the worst, get out of out here."

"Can we have fun now?" Raquel asked, and in a flash of a moment, Tom Sandoval could be seen grabbing her butt underneath her dress.

FANS CALLED IT

The reality star gasped in shock and covered her rear end as she laughed the encounter off.

Fans were stunned to see the exchange, taking to social media to note that it was a predictor for their drama to come.

"Knowing what we know now, this scene is haunting. Sandoval even slaps Rachel’s a** in front of everyone, even Ariana. All while selling their Schwartz story after already hooking up and not caring about hurting Katie in the process.

"Whew. Watching this all play out before our eyes is *mind-blowing* #pumprules," the fan account @bestofbravo wrote while resharing the clip to their Instagram profile.

"You know, I’m thinking they planned this all together!!!! The kiss, everything!!!" a second claimed.

"It’s so beyond disturbing," a third agreed, while a fourth exclaimed: "THE. LEVEL. OF. BETRAYAL. IS. ASTOUNDING."

"Aren’t they all too old for this behavior.?!" a fifth trolled.

"He was jealous," another claimed, referring to Raquel's kiss with Tom Schwartz.

"SANDOVAL DEFINITELY GRABBED RACHEL’S A** WHEN ARIANA LOOKED AWAY #PumpRules," a final ranted.

6Watch What Happens Live host Andy Cohen revealed on The View that Ariana would soon be on his showCredit: ABC

6Ariana speaking on WWHL will be the 'first time' fans have heard from her about Tom's scandalCredit: Getty

6Fans believed that there was a detail that gave away Tom and Raquel's affair on the showCredit: Peacock TV

Sent from my iPhone

[because-of-a-friend]

Enemies to Lovers!Jeonghan

MASTERLIST

One day I will come up with titles for my works lol. 

Hi Hannah!!!! Thanks for requesting! I loved doing this one! I went ahead and went with Jeonghan cuz I feel like he fits this trope best! Sorry you had to wait so long, this particular fic got deleted like... three times so it was a struggle lol. I hope it’s what you were looking for!

I hope this is a good one, I’m realizing I get real insecure about my writing anytime I’m not doing a bulletpoint or reaction fic, so I don’t feel great about this time. Also I only started recently putting actual detail into my kiss scenes and idk how I’m doing with those???? Like do they seem ok??? Also I feel like I make it so obvious that I am such a sucker for SVT having cute nicknames for siblings, friends, partners, etc in fics lol. Anyways...

Also, I really said: Jeonghan... but in different types of lighting

Remember I don’t own the gif! Link to OP is right there if you want to go give the creator some love!!!

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions eating, reader is using female pronouns (I will keep things gn unless you request differently), I think that’s it, pls let me know if I missed any

You’re not sure exactly how it happened. It was probably just an instance of getting off on the wrong foot, that led to more awkward interactions, giving both of you the wrong impression of each other. You knew this, you could rationalize it all. You were well aware that all it would take was one “I think we might have the wrong idea of each other” conversation and it would all be over. You could easily fix it all, but…

But his stupid smug face. The sarcastic jokes. The never-ending pranks that were not as funny as he thought they were. His ridiculous arrogance. His overall unapologetic nature towards all of it.

You couldn’t help but hate Yoon Jeonghan.

*****

“I don’t know, Wonnie…” you say uneasily over the phone. In previous years, you’d go over to the dorm without hesitation. You loved spending time with your brother and many of the other boys. But ever since you had officially met and begun interacting with Jeonghan…

“C’mon, [Y/N]! I bought that new game you were talking about! We can play it together on my gaming system!” Wonwoo began to persuade. You knew you’d give in; you always did. Your brother was far too sweet a person and far too comforting a presence to reject. The question was how long did you want to argue with him about going to the dorm.

You sighed, accepting defeat early to save time, “I’ll head over there in a bit.”

Wonwoo gives a small cry of victory, “Ok, I’ll have Gyu make extra ramen.” Wonwoo abruptly hangs up the phone right after, leaving you in silence to groan in regret of your decision.

You immediately straighten yourself out, though, trying to put yourself in a mindset of determination. What were you thinking? Just because you and that asshole didn’t get along meant you couldn’t go see your own twin brother without feeling uncomfortable? Screw that! If he wanted to keep the peace then he was going to have to start watching where he stepped around you. 

*****

You knocked loud and clear on the door of their dorm, knowing that with thirteen people living inside, it was usually too noisy for them to hear someone signal their arrival. To your relief, Seungcheol opened the door just moments after you knocked and greeted you with a warm smile followed by a hand sneaking into your hair to ruffle it, “Hey there, kiddo! How’s it hanging?”

“Just fine,” you tilt your head down slightly in his direction as you pass him to enter the dorm. “How are things here?” As soon as you ask, your ears are met with the noise of someone dropping something in the kitchen, followed by Seungkwan crying in alarm.

“Same as always, I supposed,” Seungcheol sighs, but his smile doesn’t fade. “I think Mingyu and Wonwoo are already in the computer room, if you want to go ahead and see them!”

“Ok, thanks Cheol!” you call as you both rush off in different directions, him towards the kitchen and you towards the small room that would provide you solace from the possibility of having to see Yoon Jeonghan.

You were determined not to let things go how they usually did: you with your mouth clamped shut as Jeonghan spoke whatever teasing words he had saved up for you, and the most you can do to fight back is by rolling your eyes and finding any way to get away from him.

This time, you would still avoid contact with him, but if it happened, you’d speak your mind and not care what he thought, since that’s how he treated you.

But there was no sign of him or anyone else as you walked to the computer room. You could hear Mingyu and Wonwoo yelling and cheering at the game long before you opened the door. It was pitch black inside, the piercing light of the screen making you squint your eyes.

The two men inside both turn immediately to check who offended their dark space with the soft, yellow light from the hallway.

“Oh [Y/N], you came!” Mingyu beams up at you. You nod, matching his bright expression.

“How’s the game?” you ask simply, looking up to your brother.

“We like it so far,” Wonwoo’s smile is wide, he always gets excited about new games, whether they’re good or not. He leans over to grab a can of some sort of energy drink before gulping it down. “We left some ramen for you over there on the table. Eat first, then I’ll let you have a turn.”

You roll your eyes, though Wonwoo was only mere minutes older than you, he found those moments to be enough leverage to order you around and act like you should be dependent on his care. There were times when he even referred to himself as “oppa” to you and insisted that you do the same.

Most of the time you let it slide, especially when you weren’t in the mood to argue. However, there were times when you’d pull out the “We’re the same age,” “Even if you’re older, I’m smarter,” or “Don’t boss me around when I’m more mature than you” cards at the drop of a hat.

“Can you at least turn on the LEDs while I eat?” you ask, tip-toeing in the darkness towards the table at the back end of the room. You hear a click before a soft blue glow fills the room, finally giving you a clear view of your path. You pull the bowl of ramen towards you as you sit and resist the urge to comment on how little they left you. The dorm was filled with food anyways, you could find more later if you got hungry again.

Wonwoo and Mingyu begin to eagerly tell you what they like about the game as you eat. You listen happily, feeling safe in the presence of your brother and friend.

Then of course…

“Hey you two, Cheol wanted me to remind you that we have to get up early tomorrow,” you can’t help the sour expression that comes over your face as Jeonghan enters the room to speak to Wonwoo and Mingyu. “Oh, hey there cutie, I didn’t know you were here!” His smirk makes you sick.

“Don’t call me that,” you say bitterly into the nearly empty bowl.

Wonwoo looks nervously between you and his bandmate, well aware of the dislike you have for him. He’s grateful that you’ve always kept it so civil, but still feels bothered by the unrest between you.

Jeonghan lets out a little giggle in response, and Wonwoo feels a tug in the pit of his stomach, he wishes Jeonghan wouldn’t be so hard on you sometimes. He knows his hyung doesn’t mean anything by it, but you…

You feel your heart sink as Jeonghan steps fully into the room, striding to sit across from you at the table. You can only stare in wonder at his audacity as he slides the bowl towards himself and finishes off the ramen in one bite.

“I was eating that,” you try to keep your tone measured, attempting to keep within the balance of standing up for yourself but not starting any drama that would affect the boys.

“Go make more if you’re hungry, then,” Jeonghan says casually, making your anger positively flare.

You don’t even give your brother the chance to mediate, jumping up from your place and leaving the room, wanting to be anywhere but around that prick.

*****

“You’re leaving already?” Mingyu pouts at you.

“Gyu, I’ve been here for hours,” you laugh, stretching out your fingers as they start to prick from pain of slamming into a keyboard for so long. You had returned to the computer room but only after Jeonghan left. Part of you had wished you had done more to confront him; another part was glad you didn’t start a fight and put Wonwoo in an awkward position. “Besides all of you, as well as me have to get up early tomorrow, it’s already late. I need to get back home.”

“You can stay here,” Wonwoo was quick to offer.

You shook your head at him, “Then I’ll just have to get up even earlier, I’ll go back to my place.” Wonwoo nods almost reluctantly, standing to walk you out.

All of you run into Joshua on your way to the front door, he turns out to be the only one smart enough to ask how you got there.

“Oh, I took the bus,” you say slowly, knowing this is about to cause issues.

“Well, the last one would have already stopped running by now,” Mingyu says looking at the time on his phone.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Josh offers immediately.

You bring your hands up to shake them back and forth, “No, no, I can find a way home, you all need to go to bed.”

“[Y/N],” Wonwoo speaks up immediately in that stern voice you hate but also can’t help but listen to, “let Josh take you home. It’s either that or you stay here, I won’t have you walking around alone at night.” Wonwoo waits a moment to gauge your expression. He finally nods affirmatively, before speaking directly to Joshua, “Take her home, please.”

Joshua nods before walking off to grab his keys. You and Wonwoo send Mingyu off to bed. Once you’re alone, your brother pulls you in for a tight hug. “Do you want me to say something to him?” he asks lowly.

You shake your head, “I don’t want to cause any problems with you guys.” You sit in silence for a moment. “Come and stay over with me sometime, I miss our sleepovers.”

Joshua comes back and Wonwoo pulls away, “Thanks, hyung. Please get her home safe.” For the second time that night, your hair gets ruffled before your brother disappears to go off to bed.

The ride home with Joshua is comfortable. He speaks kindly to you and makes you smile.

You begin to wonder how amongst all these angels, there exists a person like Yoon Jeonghan.

*****

Wonwoo used the new game as leverage to guilt you into coming over quite often in the following weeks. You hadn’t realized how much you had limited your time at the dorm until you started going consistently once more. It was nice being able to spend time with the boys again. You hated that Jeonghan had become such an unbearable presence that it affected your relationship with the rest of your friends.

But ever since you had started to stand your ground and talk back, he had finally begun to avoid you. You supposed it was only fun for him when you sat there and took it.

It didn’t stop the two of you from bickering when you saw each other, but now both of you preferred to avoid each other instead of Jeonghan seeking you out to tease you.

The following weeks of visiting were fairly comfortable. Whenever Jeonghan wasn’t around, you got to spend plenty of time with the other boys and your brother. Plus, the new video game was even better than expected.

Jeonghan’s presence slowly became uncomfortable in a different way.

Instead of being smug and overbearing, he became strangely quiet around you. His facial expressions became more serious as he sent genuine glares your way before letting out bitter remarks and going on his way.

It made you even angrier.

Who the hell was he to torture you all this time and then act like a kicked puppy when you finally fought back???

Your anger and his bitterness slowly escalated the tension between you two. Although they were happening less frequently, the arguments between you became more serious and almost hurtful.

Whatever, you told yourself, he could do as he pleased, you wouldn’t let it affect you anymore.

*****

You stared down at your phone screen. Why? Why did it have to be here, while you were at the dorm?

The call was only five minutes. They didn’t even do it in person. Of course, they had warned that because of hard times, there’d be lay-offs soon. But they couldn’t even do it in person? And all you got was a simple “Sorry, come collect your things on Monday”??? You were a hard worker, passionate about the job, more efficient than most of your coworkers and this is how they treated you???

A part of you could’ve guessed, many of the employees your age had gotten in because of nepotism. But you didn’t want to believe that they’d just brush off all your years of hard work just to avoid stepping on the toes of higher-ups who had relative connections hired at the company.

You squatted against the wall of the hallway, still too in shock to move.

So, you simply sat in silence, for what seemed like forever.

“You good?” you had never felt worse than the exact moment his voice reached your ears.

“Go away,” you said sternly, knowing you’d be crying soon.

“Geez, forgive me for asking,” Jeonghan responds before turning to walk away. He stops abruptly after you sniffle. “So, you’re not ok?”

“No offense, Jeonghan,” you say hating the way your voice is shaking, “but you are the last person I want to speak to right now.”

There’s a heavy silence for a long moment. You silently pray that he’ll just leave. “Do you want me to get your brother?” he asks lightly.

You shake your head, “No, I don’t want to ruin the mood. I’m going to go home, just tell him I had a stomach ache.” You push yourself up and begin to walk briskly towards the door.

To your surprise, Jeonghan reaches out to stop you. You stare at his hand wrapped around your arm and wonder if you’ve ever even allowed him to touch you before. “It’s already late, let me give you a ride.”

You pull his hand off of you, “No, thanks.” You grab your coat and start to dig around in your purse to make sure you have all of your belongings.

“[Y/N],” Jeonghan’s voice rings clear in your head despite your brain feeling fuzzy. You don’t want to look at him. Who is this person that’s showing concern and speaking kindly? You don’t like it. It feels fake. It feels like a predator playing with a wounded prey. You’re just waiting for him to laugh or make a remark or do anything to make you feel worse than you already do.

But Jeonghan simply grabs the keys laying on the front table, grabs your arm once more, and leads you out to the car.

*****

The ride is suffocatingly silent. You wished he’d at least turn on some music to cover up the sound of your crying, but you remained in the quiet. You rolled down your window and stuck your head out, letting the warm night air and sound of wind comfort you. Since you were turned away from him completely, you didn’t see Jeonghan glancing over at you throughout the drive.

You couldn’t have left that car faster when you finally pulled up to your apartment.

To your dismay, Jeonghan also gets out, apparently intent on walking you up.

“You don’t have to-” you start but abruptly stop when he gives you a look telling you an emotion you don’t quite understand.

Jeonghan finally speaks when you’re riding the elevator up to your floor, “I don’t really mean it, you know.”

“Mean what?” you say weakly, starting to feel the exhaustion from crying so much.

“When I talk to you like that… I mean when I’m… rude,” he trails off, running a hand through his hair. “Usually it’s just teasing, but obviously I went too far with you. And I didn’t realize it until you started showing how upsetting it was for you. I should’ve known before that, though.”

“You seemed ruder after I started talking back,” you say, confused.  

“I was just being petty and defensive. I kept telling myself things like: It’s her fault, isn’t it? She should have made it more clear from the beginning that it was upsetting her. How was I supposed to know? But that was just me being immature, I should’ve just talked to you.”

“Is that an… apology, Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, letting yourself be a little smug.

For the first time, you get a genuine smile out of him, “Maybe.”

There’s more silence for a second.

“It’s a two-way road, though,” you say finally.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I mean, I could have also come and talked to you instead of letting things escalate,” you say. “I played some part in all of this… unpleasantness. You can’t entirely blame yourself.”

Jeonghan smiles again, reaching out to ruffle your hair the way Seungcheol always did. Then he takes a dramatic deep breath and rolls his shoulders, “There! That feels better, doesn’t it? We can finally be friends!”

You roll your eyes in a playful manner, but you feel it too, a weight has been lifted.

*****

Wonwoo showed up at your door in the middle of the night that night. You took one look at his frantic face and groaned, “I told Jeonghan I would tell you myself.”

“You should have told me immediately!” your brother pouts as he passes you to walk into your apartment.

“I didn’t want to worry you so late, especially when all of you were having a good time. I was going to tell you tomorrow,” you close the door behind him. You watch as he turns on the TV and starts picking through your pantry. “Hmmm, yes it seems quite clear that you came here out of concern for me,” you can’t help but use a sarcastic tone.

Wonwoo sends a glare your way as he grabs snacks and settles on the couch. You sit next to him, grabbing your fair share of the food. You try to keep your attention on the show, but the feeling of Wonwoo staring straight at you is distracting.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry,” you sigh.

“Really? Because Jeonghan described you as an emotional wreck,” your brother scoffs.

“I was just shocked and upset. I’ll be ok. I have a good resume, I can find a new job,” you insist.

“I keep telling you, you don’t have to work-”

“I don’t care how much you make,” you interrupt. “I’m not going to depend on you. It’ll just make trouble for both of us.”

“Will you at least let me help out if there’s any problems before you find a new job?” Wonwoo kicks at your leg.

“Like I would even tell you if I was having trouble,” you return his kick.

“You just can’t help but be difficult,” your brother complains quietly.

You let the sound of the show take over the room for a few minutes. “I do have good news,” you finally speak up, wanting to give your brother some peace of mind about something. “Me and Jeonghan made up. We figured it out.”

Wonwoo bolts upright with a grin on his face, “Really??? It’s really all good now?”

“100%,” you say, unable to stop yourself from pinching your brother’s cheeks, finding his excited expression cute.

“Let’s celebrate soon then! We can have a big gaming party with all of the boys!” You agree to your brother’s proposal. You feel content in this moment, knowing you’ll wake up in the morning in an uncomfortable position, immediately kick at his legs and tell him to get his stinky feet away from you.

*****

Your time at the dorm increases with the weight of you and Jeonghan’s rivalry being gone. You’re enjoying getting to know him as a friend instead of constantly walking on eggshells around him. Going to visit the boys is once again a happy and comfortable experience.

You hadn’t realized how much Jeonghan had affected you until you two had worked things out. The world felt light again and you could breathe, no longer in constant worry of possibly ruining things between your brother and his bandmates.

You hoped things would remain without complications for a long time.

*****

“Seungkwan, you should come with us!” you begged. “The carnival only comes once a year; you can’t miss it!”

“But it’s so crowded and there are screaming kids everywhere,” Seungkwan complains.

“Oh, whatever,” Soonyoung interjects. “You love it every time we go.”

Seungkwan gives Soonyoung a look that has you laughing through your mouthful of ramen. “Oh, shoot,” you say feeling liquid start to dribble down your chin. “Can I get a napkin?”

“Here’s one,” you hear Jeonghan’s voice as he enters the room. You reach out to grab the napkin as Seungkwan and Soonyoung continue bickering. But instead of handing it to you, Jeonghan extends his hand not holding the napkin towards you. His fingers come to lightly touch your chin and turn you towards him. Jeonghan wipes your face with the napkin himself, taking the time to make sure it’s really all clean. “All better,” he smiles at you, running his thumb across your chin to check its cleanliness one last time.

As Jeonghan walks away, you turn to see if Seungkwan or Soonyoung saw what had happened. They were still arguing, though. The boys showing you physical touch or affection wasn’t really all that uncommon. But for some reason, the way Jeonghan had grabbed your chin just now… Why was your heart beating so hard?

*****

You couldn’t stop yourself from dragging Wonwoo all over the carnival. It was nice to get out in this environment, the lights, the laughter, the food, the games, the rides. You wanted to do everything, but not before you looked at all there was and took in the spectacle.

You could hear all the boys laughing excitedly behind you, you knew they’d want to try everything as well. You shook your head at Seungkwan’s bright expression, you couldn’t wait to play the ‘I told you so’ card later.

The night was a blur. All of you ran from games to rides to snacks and then all over again.

You couldn’t help but stop completely in your tracks as you passed a booth with a giant stuffie of your favorite animal as a prize. Your fascination with the plushie doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You want me to win it for you?” Jeonghan’s voice is suddenly speaking right into your ear. You jump after realizing he was right behind you. You grip your cotton candy a bit tighter and shyly nod. The way Jeonghan grins at you fills you with warmth.

You watch him walk over to the booth. His light hair and pink shirt were illuminated by the soft glow of the surrounding lights. Jeonghan takes his wallet out and hands some bills to the vendor. You step up closer to stand next to him as he plays the game. He laughs as he chats back and forth with the vendor. You watch in awe as Jeonghan clears the game, no problem.

“Anything from the top shelf!” the vendor exclaims happily.

“That one please,” Jeonghan points right at the stuffie you had been staring at.

“It’ll be a wonderful memory for your girlfriend,” the vendor smiles as he hands the prize directly to you.

“Oh, I’m-”

“Of course!” Jeonghan interrupts you almost instantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and starting to pull you away from the game. “We’ll cherish it for a long time! Thanks for the game!” The vendor waves kindly as you two walk away. After a moment, Jeonghan pulls his arm off of you, “Sorry, sometimes it’s just easier to agree than explain, you know?” You nod in agreement. “Wait a second,” he stops you by putting his hands on your shoulders and standing in front of you. Before you can ask what’s wrong, his hand comes up towards your face as it had earlier that day. He quickly swipes his thumb across your lips before pulling to back to show you remnants of your cotton candy. “Do you always eat this messily?” he grins and then, to your surprise, puts his thumb in his mouth to clean it off.

You stand there, frozen, unable to really comprehend what just happened as Jeonghan walks away towards the other boys.

“For the second time today?” Soonyoung is suddenly standing next to you.

“So you did see what happened earlier!” you exclaimed, hitting his arm lightly. “It was weird, right?!”

“Can’t tell yet,” Soonyoung replies cocking his head to the side and putting his hands in his pocket. “Sometimes Jeonghan is just sort of naturally flirtatious. But I’m not sure about you. I figured since you two didn’t get along at first, it’d take him awhile to warm up to you at that level. He seemed to get comfortable with you quite quickly.” Soonyoung turns and shrugs at you after his words.

“You’re no help at all,” you say emotionlessly. There’s a pause before both you and Soonyoung slowly look at each other and laugh at your quip.

You decide to brush off your new concerns about Jeonghan and enjoy this night with the boys. The vendor was right, it was a good memory, and you’re sure it’d last you for your whole lifetime.

*****

You hate yourself a bit for it, but you once again seem to be avoiding Jeonghan. He had made you so nervous that day, and the way your heart pounded… You didn’t want to get sucked into having a silly crush on him if he wasn’t actually trying to flirt with you.

No, from now on, interactions with Jeonghan would be friendly but short and appropriate.

You were stupid to think he wouldn’t notice.

It wasn’t long before there came a night when Jeonghan insisted that he be the one to give you a ride home. You couldn’t help the way your nerves spiked at his determination to be the one to take you. You knew he most likely wanted to talk to you about your sudden distance from him.

The ride itself was nice, Jeonghan rolled the windows down for you, remembering that you enjoyed the warm night air of summer. You talked comfortably with one another. Jeonghan was always able to make you smile so easily.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him. He was just wearing a t-shirt and sweats but… His blonde hair being illuminated in the moonlight as he ran his hands through it and his bright smile as he laughed...

He really was beautiful.

Once again, Jeonghan came with you to walk you to your door. And once again, he finally spoke up in the elevator, “You’ve been avoiding me, sweetheart.” Your heart drops to your stomach at the nickname. “Is everything ok? Did I do something to make you mad again?”

You quickly shake your head and pull your hands up to shake them as well, “No! Not at all!”

“You sure?” he insists.

“Yoon Jeonghan, you really don’t think I’d tell you if you did?” you say.

He giggles, “Yeah, that’s true. You’d let me know the moment I messed up, wouldn’t you?” The elevator dings and opens up to your floor. You and Jeonghan step out together. “Is everything else ok, then? You don’t start avoiding people for no reason.”

You nod as casually as possible, “Everything is great.” Your tone isn’t convincing and Jeonghan nudges you. “I guess, I just got… nervous? I mean one moment we were like enemies and then the next we were suddenly really… close, and-”

“I made you uncomfortable?” Jeonghan’s voice is slightly panicked.

“No, you did nothing wrong! It’s all on me, I just got caught up in my emotions and-” you stop abruptly when you realize what you were about to do.

Jeonghan nods quietly as if to say he understands, but what it is he understands, you’re not sure. “Is it ok for us to remain close, or do you want me to back off?”

“I don’t want any more distance between us, but…” you trail off.

“But, what?” he prompts you again.

“I don’t want to get the wrong idea about anything…” you say, finally reaching your door.

Jeonghan watches as you slowly unlock your door and push it open, “You haven’t gotten the wrong idea about anything.” He avoids eye contact when you look up at him.

You’re shocked by his forwardness. But once he voices his thoughts out loud, you once again feel the feeling of a weight being lifted.

Jeonghan gestures for you to step inside, catching your arm once you fully pass him. He pulls you back to him, close enough for him to lean in and leave a quick kiss on your cheek, “Night, babe, I’ll see you later.”

You stand there, completely still, staring at your door that had shut closed in front of you. You can feel heat rise from the tip of your toes all the way up to your ears. You finally let yourself fall into a squatting position, covering your face with your hands, and letting out a squeal.

*****

Jeonghan invites you to meet up outside of the dorm. It’s a cute little coffee shop at a quiet part of the city. You’re already sitting when he walks in. Maybe one day, you won’t be completely caught off guard by his beauty… but today is not that day.

His whole person is bathed in the glow of the early morning light as he approaches you, the softest, most genuine smile gracing his face.

“No, don’t get up,” he says when you try to leave your chair, “I need to go off and order anyways.” Jeonghan leans down to kiss your forehead firmly. “I just wanted to come say hi first,” he whispers, holding your face close to his.

Your first date sets a wonderful precedent to the rest of your relationship. Jeonghan gets your heart racing with flirty comments and sweet touches. But he also makes you feel calm and content, easily keeping a smile on your face. You just feel… good throughout it all.

You insist on walking him back to the dorm, since they had schedules that day.

“So, we’ll be doing this again?” Jeonghan asks hopefully, as you reach the front door.

“Definitely,” you nod enthusiastically up at him, wondering how you had ever managed to despise the man that made you feel so whole and happy.

Jeonghan looks utterly happy and a tiny bit nervous as he stares down at you. His hand reaches up to brush back your hair before settling firmly against your face. Jeonghan looks at you so fondly as he leans in. His lips connect to yours… so softly… so sweetly. You can feel his nose nudge against your face to push it into a preferred position. He pulls back slightly after every little kiss to let out laughter so sweet, it sounds like it should be coming from the mouth of an angel. But he’s never far away for long, reconnecting to you quickly every time. You let him take the lead, allowing his lips to take care of yours, giving them the sweetest kind of attention. He pulls back for a moment longer to nuzzle his nose against yours, an action that has you gripping his shirt to keep him close. His hands keep themselves entertained by running across your face or through your hair.

He’s going back in to kiss you once again when he front door of the dorm opens, leaving you caught in the act. Wonwoo stares at you two for a long moment before making a single comment that causes you and Jeonghan to laugh.

“You know, when I said I wanted you two to have a better relationship, this isn’t exactly what I meant.”

[stagemanagerssaygo]

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

[makeste]

some follow-up thoughts on BnHA 306

mostly Deku angst, but also a little Baku angst (and some TodoBaku angst) mixed in for good measure. because there’s plenty of angst to go around.

1. “if I’d only been stronger...”

I’ll talk more about Deku later in this post as well, because there’s definitely plenty to talk about; this is the most character development he’s gotten in almost 200 chapters. but for starters, I want to discuss the possible parallels between Deku’s current character arc, and what is arguably the most iconic moment of angst/character development in the series.

remember how this kid, who up until this point had rarely seemed to give two fucks about the world around him, suddenly revealed that he blamed himself for being the downfall of All Might? remember how it came almost out of nowhere? how he’d been hiding it, and trying to suppress it? “but even if I try to forget... sometimes it all just comes rushing back.”

yeah. so anyway, I got to thinking -- if being the cause of one hero’s downfall could affect someone this badly, what about being responsible for the downfall of all heroes?

what if a boy who wanted nothing more than to keep people safe suddenly found himself at the epicenter of a disaster that killed hundreds, possibly even thousands of people?

now obviously, this is not the sole thing that’s troubling Deku right now; this kid has a whole array of traumas as of the War arc. like, you know it’s bad when Society As We Know It Coming To An End Partially Because Of You is the least of your problems. but still, I think this is worth bringing up, because the hero kids blaming themselves for things that aren’t their fault is hardly anything new. and yet, what with everything else that’s been going on -- all of the Todoroki drama, and Vestige revelations, and hospital antics, and political strife -- I feel like it’s easy to forget or overlook this little detail.

the fact is that AFO put this entire plan into motion solely in the hopes of finally obtaining OFA. every single thing that happened at Jakku -- Tomura powering up; Machia waking up and going on his rampage (after being ordered to do so by Tomura); and even Dabi/Touya choosing this moment to finally strike (because he knew this was when the reveal would do the maximum damage -- when people’s faith in heroes was already wavering) -- every last bit of it can ultimately be traced back to AFO’s desire to steal OFA. which, obviously, makes it AFO’s fault, not Deku’s. but then, Kamino wasn’t actually Katsuki’s fault either. it wasn’t his fault the villains went after him (but he blamed himself anyway), and it wasn’t his fault that people got hurt in the ensuing battle to save him (but he blamed himself anyway).

just. I think we’re underestimating just how strong of an impact all of this likely had on Deku. we haven’t really had the chance to see him process it yet. he’s been too busy, and there have been too many other things going on. but I’m telling you guys, that empty look in his eyes in the final page of the chapter? I can all but guarantee you that at least some of that emotional weight is coming from this.

sure would be nice if he had a friend who knew exactly what that was like, and could help him process the guilt and all of the other associated emotions, just like Deku once helped him. unfortunately I’m not so sure things will be that easy this time around. anyways though let’s move on to a couple of other thoughts and speculations.

2. “...and I bullied him.”

one of my least-favorite BnHA fanfic tropes is the one where the rest of class 1-A somehow finds out about Katsuki and Deku’s history -- i.e. that Katsuki bullied Deku throughout most of their childhood. mind you, it’s not the concept itself that I dislike; it’s mostly how it’s used. a lot of times it’s just an excuse to have all of the other kids turn on Katsuki and ostracize him; either because the author thinks that’s what he deserves, or else so that Deku can eventually come to his rescue and defend him and shame the rest of the class for not seeing how much he’s changed. either way, it’s usually pretty awkward to read, and more often than not the characters are pretty OOC (especially Ochako and Todoroki).

however! there’s a big difference between fanfic and canon, and just because I’m not a fan of this trope in the former doesn’t mean it couldn’t be executed well in the latter. and lately I’ve been thinking about this a lot. mainly for three reasons:

the recent (can we still call it recent?? well whatever) scene where Katsuki confessed to All Might that he used to bully Deku is now one of my favorite scenes in the entire series, and proof that this can be executed well.

both Todoroki and Deku have finally had their respective big secrets revealed to the rest of the class. so like, idk. feels like it just might be secret-revealing season now, you know?

and lastly, as a result of Deku’s secret about OFA finally being revealed, the rest of 1-A now either knows, or can extrapolate, that he used to be quirkless.

and from there, I feel like it’s not all that hard to put two and two together with how terrible Kacchan and Deku’s relationship was when they first started at UA. that’s not a terribly difficult puzzle to solve. so I feel like it might come out anyway, and if so, I’d prefer Bakugou telling them himself, and taking responsibility as part of his atonement process. because we know that he regrets it. we know their relationship has changed. we know that he has changed. and so I think I might like to see this.

alternately, if confessing to the entire class is too much, at the very least I could see him confessing to Shouto, because I’ve always felt like this was one of the big things that made Katsuki so resistant to letting Todoroki call him a friend. because I feel like there’s a part of Katsuki that saw the parallels between Endeavor’s abuse of Shouto and his own bullying of Deku, and thought, he wouldn’t be so quick to call me his friend if he actually knew the truth. and so there’s actually been this roadblock wedged between them this whole time that Shouto doesn’t even know about. because Shouto hates Endeavor. and so it’s not such a leap to assume he’d hate Katsuki too if he knew just how terrible he’d been to Deku when they were younger.

not that I think he actually would! actually I don’t think either of those things is actually true (because Shouto clearly doesn’t hate his father either, in spite of everything that’s happened). but the point isn’t what I think -- the point is what Katsuki thinks. and I really do think there’s a good chance he’s worried about Shouto hating him, and it’s one of the things that’s made him so reluctant to accept his friendship. anyway, so I’m really just rambling now, but you get my point. I don’t know if this is actually going to happen, but it’s a scene I would like to see if Horikoshi decides to indulge me.

3. “...so when you wake up, please give him my best.”

and now, as promised, back to Deku.

ngl guys, when I first saw this image, my immediate thought was that Gran must have died. because I mean, hello, leaving U.A.?? donning himself in his teacher’s old cape?? empty, exhausted look in his eyes?? what else were we supposed to think lol.

but maybe that was an overreaction. because when I think about it more, Gran’s death isn’t strictly necessary in order to push Deku over the edge. first of all, there’s already the whole “hero society is in ruins now because of you” thing I mentioned earlier. but also, there are just so many other things. like, let’s just list them here because omg. what a rough couple of days this kid had.

he was forced to battle TomurAFO and was terribly injured in the process (most of which was his own fault, but he wouldn’t have gone that far with OFA unless he felt like he had no choice)

and it wasn’t just him that was injured, either. in fact, even though he tried to act as bait to keep everyone else safe, he wasn’t able to stop three of the people closest to him from nearly being killed right before his eyes

and of course that last one was especially traumatic, because it was Kacchan, and because he had to watch Kacchan nearly die just to protect him. out of all the things that Deku witnessed in this arc, this might be the one that had the biggest impact on him

he was also basically helpless to do anything to protect Shouto and Endeavor when Dabi showed up. so again, we have this running theme of people he cares about being hurt and him not being able to save them

and he also got sucked into the OFA Interstellar Dream Vortex for a brief spell during the battle, during which he learned that AFO had possessed Tomura. more importantly, he learned that Tomura was Nana’s grandson, a fact which was only briefly touched on during that scene, but which I think wound up being the trigger to the whole avalanche that ended with Deku leaving UA. but more on that in a moment

anyway so just to wrap this all up, the battle eventually ended, Tomura got away despite all of their efforts, and then Deku wound up comatose in the hospital for two days. which brings us to the most recent chapters, during which

Deku learns that he will be the last wielder of OFA, whether he likes or not

Deku learns the identity of the last two mystery OFA users

and then at some point, he wakes up and presumably talks to Gran, and winds up with his cape

something happened during these last two scenes which helped to push Deku over the edge. I won’t delve into the matter of the Second or Third users for now, although most of you already know my suspicions regarding that, and I do think that would fit into the general pattern here (that is, the pattern of Deku feeling more and more strongly that he is putting the people around him in danger, and his fear of losing them becoming so overwhelming that it eventually pushes him to leave).

but that’s not what I want to talk about for now. what I want to talk about is Gran. specifically, what it is that Deku discussed with Gran. and this is where we come back to that reveal I mentioned earlier -- that Tomura is Nana’s grandchild.

basically, what I think happened is that Deku mentioned seeing Nana in the OFA Zany Psychedelic Spirit Void, which led to the topic of Tomura, and the fun fact Deku recently learned about him being related to Nana. this, in turn leads to Gran divulging his various regrets about everything that happened with him and Nana and Kotarou. his intent is to apologize to Deku for placing the burden of their failures on him. unfortunately, the part that Deku actually gets fixated on instead is this:

All for One hunted down and killed Nana’s son (and probably her husband as well), and stole her grandchild and psychologically tortured him into becoming a mass murderer, for no other reason than that Nana had once held OFA

in other words, AFO can and will hurt and kill anyone Deku is close to, anyone who has any kind of connection to him at all, without mercy, and regardless of whether it actually gives him any kind of tactical advantage or not. he’ll do it simply to hurt him. no other reason necessary.

I don’t know about you, but for me that would be a terrifying realization. and for Deku, I think it just might have been the tipping point.

so, let’s recap.

Deku learns that AFO is after him

AFO/Tomura very nearly kills several of Deku’s most important people, including Kacchan

and then he learns that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and realizes that all of their lives are still in danger and will continue to be as long as Deku is AFO’s target

and then add to all of this the misplaced guilt about society already being shambles, and the heroes already having more than enough to worry about. they’re barely holding things together as it is. and we already know how Deku feels about being a burden to them:

and so instead, he leaves. of course he does. in hindsight, I think this was inevitable.

the question is, did anyone else also put the pieces together in time to realize what Deku was planning before he actually left? specifically, did Katsuki, who understands Deku’s self-sacrificial nature better than anyone else, see the signs and put two and two together? like he did back at Jakku?

and if he did, would Deku have been willing to accept his help again?

somehow, I can’t help but think it might not be that easy this time.

anyway, so that was a lot of rambling, lol. sorry about that. I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS about all of this angsty shit. tired nomad Deku needs hugs and comfort and someone to reassure him that he doesn’t have to face this alone, and that everything is going to be all right. HE IS JUST A LITTLE BOY. this is too much, and I cannot handle any of these feels, and oh my god, somebody please help him.

[eclectickss]

Make Me Feel Special (1/2)

Pairing: Milf!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Warnings: Mommy issues/kink, sexual implications, major age gap (reader is of age)

Summary: You are angry at your best friend for turning down the opportunity for something that you would give your life for: a mother.

Word Count: 3K?

Link to Part 2

A/N: Not grammar checked at all! A blurb gone big!(still at writers block on PGATW) But requests are open! I’ve never done one before but i’m willing to try. <3

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You entered the apartment and placed your keys in the dish and jacket on it’s hook, making your way into the kitchen to place your to-go food in the fridge. Jane sat at the island on the computer you shared, and you smiled.

“Hey, I picked up sandwiches for dinner. Hope that’s cool.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Your best friend didn’t look up, but it didn’t really bother you. Well, she was your only friend, but still.

You and Jane had been sharing the apartment for years now, The two of you working a good job to afford it and making a livable income. You had been close since high-school, due to your similar social status, but beyond the two of you, nobody was too good at making friends.

From what she had told you, Jane’s mom wasn’t around much when she was growing up. Jane was a teen pregnancy, and ever since she was born, her mom made no time for her daughter. Agatha, was her name.

Agatha came from a wealthy family, though. Her parents (Jane’s grandparents) wouldn’t allow her to use the family money for her child, much less anything else. She struggled with Jane, and therefore the two of them were ever close.

Agatha’s parents died when Jane was in high-school, so her mom inherited their wealth, but their relationship was past salvageable. At least in Jane’s eyes, it was.

Jane was always telling you about how bad of a mom Agatha was and about how you were lucky that you didn’t have to deal with someone like her. Jane didn’t understand though. You would had given anything to have someone like Agatha. Even if she wasn’t around to much, it was still better than nobody at all.

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You were now setting the table for two as you pulled the sandwiches out of the fridge, also finding some strawberries to place at the table. You now were looking through the pantry for chips when you heard a knock at the door and Jane moving around to answer it.

“Mom?!” You heard at the door while you still had your head buried in the pantry. Your eyes widened at the name, never expecting to hear it in your life (in that context, at least). You thought Agatha was out of the picture. “What are you doing here?” You stayed silent as you listened from around the corner.

“Well, I think it’s long overdue that we had a talk, Jane, honey.” She sounded a little more raspy than you were expecting, but that doesn’t say much about someone who used to be an addict.

“We don’t do that, Mom. Anyways, now isn’t a good time.” You heard your friend sigh. The woman was your literal mother... you could at least give her five minutes, you thought.

“I want to start, honey. Please just let me in?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“C’mon, kiddo.” She begged, and you felt a little bad for how Jane was acting. You know her mom wasn’t a great person, but she was still her mom.

You never got to have one of those.

“If this is just you on another one of your sobriety stunts...”

“I’m really trying this time, Jane! I know I fucked up, baby, but please.”

“Fine.” Your friend grumbled. You heard increasing footsteps and your heart raced as you were about to meet the source of Jane’s complaints and drama.

You hurried to sit at the kitchen counter before the two women caught you snooping, but your gaze snaps up just in time to see Agatha Harkness walk into the room.

Jane might have always mentioned that her mother was any and all variations of a bitch, but she failed to mention how attractive the woman was. Her messy brown hair sat on top of an old purple cardigan and worn out jeans, followed by a pair of well-used slip-on shoes. The look together was not extremely flattering, but Agatha somehow pulled it together in a way that made your stomach turn. Your eyes raked her down, but you think she caught you when you met her gaze again. She smirked softly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had guests!” She says as her own eyes follow your figure, and you wonder if she’s just doing it to mock you or flatter you. She looks back up with a glimmer in her eye, and you decide on the latter option. Your face goes red, but you try and brush her actions off, not wanting to mistake it for anything else.

“Didn’t I say that this was a bad time?” Jane grumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Harkness. My name is YN.” You smiled as you held out your hand.

“Call me Agatha, darling.” She stared into your eyes. “It’s so nice to finally meet one of Jane’s friends.” You panic under her gaze.

“We were just about to sit down for dinner, if you want to join us. We don’t have any food for you, but-“

“Oh, thank you... I was hoping I could talk to Jane in private, though.” She walked over to the table and took a seat.

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it to YN, too.” The two of you joined Agatha at the table.

A long moment of awkward silence passsed between the three of you before your guest finally spoke up.

“I want you in my life, Jane. For real this time.”

Nobody says anything, and dishes stop clattering.

“I know I shoulda done this earlier... hell, I shoulda done this when I got claim to my parent’s money, but I want to look after you. I never got the chance to do that when you were young... cause of all the drinking and working... but I can do that now. I’m ready.”

Jane sat with her mouth open and a half eaten sandwich forgotten on her plate.

“No, Mom, you shoulda done this from the moment I was conceived. You don’t get a second chance with me. I’m not giving you a second chance, or a third or a fourth or whatever number you wanna give yourself. You wanna know why? It’s because I already did that. And you let me down every single time.”

Agatha looked a little speechless.

“Fine, then.” She sighed. “I won’t bother you again.” But it hurt you to watch a daughter turn away her mother, when that was an opportunity that you wanted so badly. “Is it alright if I stay the night, though? It’s a long drive back to my place.”

Jane rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother was being dramatic, but didn’t want to put up with any more of her antics. “I better not see you in the morning. YN can get blankets for the couch.”

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“Hey, Jane,” You sighed as you entered her room.

“Hey, YN. I’m sorry you had to deal with the shit show that is my mother. I can’t believe she just walked in here and expected me to accept her pathetic invitation.”

“No, it’s ok. She’s not that bad with me.”

“Well she just met you. I just don’t understand why she thought showing up unannounced would magically make me want a mother again. It’s fucked up.” Jane said, but you couldn’t sit there and watch her tear down something that you wish you had.

“Yeah,” you mumbled and rushed out of her room before she could say anything else.

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, then headed over to the sink for some tap water. The cool liquid rushed down your throat as you held down your tears, thankful that nobody was around.

“Hey, Honey,”

Shit. You forgot that Agatha was on the couch.

You turn around to see her meeting your gaze, although her eyes quickly found the way to the rest of your body.

“You doing alright, babygirl?” The nickname made you heat up. She spoke with concern and care; something that Jane chose to ignore, which made you feel bad for Agatha. You wish that Jane wouldn’t take for granted what her mother was trying to offer her.

“Uh... yeah... I guess.” You sigh, hopping up to sit on the counter as you watch the other woman fill her own glass at the sink. “Jane is just... being a little hard right now.” You chose your words carefully, not wanting to lose the trust of your friend but also wanting to gain the trust of another.

“What do you mean?” You realize the situation you have put yourself in.

“It’s just... I didn’t have a mom at all growing up. Or a dad. I had my shitty uncle... until he tossed me into the foster system. I had it real rough... and it still kinda is... but Jane has been helping. That’s why we’re friends at least. She might view me as a charity project, but i’m desperate, I guess.”

“What does all of this have to do with Jane being hard, hon?” She leaned onto the counter across from you.

“She didn’t really have a mom, either... growing up. No offense.”

Agatha shrugged. “I know.”

“But now that she’s given an opportunity to have one, she turns it down... and it makes me jealous. Mad. Angry.” You pause. “I know I’ll never get the chance at a mom, but she has one. And fuck, I would give so much to have that.”

“To have someone like me? A recovering drunk who treated their teen pregnancy like a joke?”Agatha sighed into her hands, but her words meant so much more to you than she may ever know.

“Yeah. To have someone like you. Someone who cares.” At that, she looked up with a new light in her eyes, but you don’t meet her gaze. You don’t want her to see the blush or desire written on your face, so instead, you pull a cigarette out from your jacket pocket.

She watches you as you hop down from the counter to get the lighter out of the junk drawer, paying attention to the way your body moves. You notice how her eyes follow you, but you don’t call her out on it, knowing you would do the same if the roles were reversed.

“You want a hit?” You lift your eyebrow as you raise the smoke to meet her gaze. A glint of humor is caught on her face, and you smirk.

“Sure... why not.” She says as you join her in leaning up against the counter. You bring the cigarette up to your mouth and click the lighter.

“So,” Agatha starts again, both of you a few puffs in. “How did you end up here with Jane?”

“Uhh... we met senior year of high-school. I was fucked up. Shit grades. Wasn’t going to graduate. Drug money to pay off... no job. Jane used your money to pay off my debt. She found me a job. Tutored me. Like I said, I felt like a charity project. But at least I graduated. We both work now and pay for this place together. Maybe it’s not great but we’re both better off than we were a few years ago.”

“Why didn’t she accept anything I tried to give her? Did she tell you?” Agatha was prying, but you didn’t mind.

“You mean after high-school? She didn’t want any help from you. In her words exactly... ‘She wasn’t there for me for the first 18 years of my life, so why should she help out now...’”

“And what do you think about that?”

“I didn’t grow up poor, Agatha. I grew up with nothing. I would have taken any of your offers in a heartbeat, no matter how guilty they made me feel.”

“Good girl.” She nearly whispers, and you turned to face her, but you couldn’t make anything out of the expression written on her face. Your own skin was hot and something was burning in your core, and you didn’t know what to think.

“I’m sorry... what did you just say?” You watched as she put the cigarette out, now giving you her undivided attention.

“So tell me, honey, do you have a boyfriend? I’m assuming a pretty thing like you would have one. Tell me about him.” Part of you wondered where this conversation was going, but the other part assumed that she already knew which direction you leaned in.

“Uhh... not my type.” You stared at her with curiosity.

“So you got a girlfriend, then?” Her new confidence shocked you a little bit.

“Uhh... no.” You tilted your head, and she seemed to pick up on your confusion.

“Good girl.” Your mouth was dry. “You see, mommy doesn’t want you having a girlfriend... no, she wants you all to herself.”

Your eyes widen in shock, but your core aches and cheeks burn. You stare at the woman next to you as a hand slides onto your thigh.

“Oh come on, darling. You said you wanted a mommy, baby. I wanna take care of you. I see the way you look at me. Don’t deny you want me too.” She spins around and pins you to the counter, and you audibly gulp.

“But- Jane.” You whine, already being driven crazy by the proximity of Agatha’s body.

“Jane is kicking me out, baby girl. And you can come live with me. Mommy has a pretty house, honey. I can feed you, clothe you... make you feel good. I can make you feel special.” And God, your soul was ready to leave your body. You wanted this. You could hardly think as her soft lips grazed over the skin on your neck, and a soft moan escaped your throat. Her tongue and teeth pulled at the skin just below your ear, trying to pull a response out of you.

“Mom!” The both of you jumped at the third voice in the room. The two of you turn to Jane in shock. “What the FUCK are you doing!” She rushed over to the two of you, pulling Agatha off of your body. “You can’t just come into my life and try to fuck my friends after someone rejects you!” She pushes her mom back and turns to you.

“Oh my god, YN, are you ok? I cannot believe that she tried to touch you. God, that makes me sick.” She hugged you, but you still couldn’t say anything.

“Jane, honey, you don’t know-“

“Shut up! I can’t even look at you! Get out of my house, mom. I never want to see you again.” Jane’s face turned red with anger.

“Honey-“ Agatha met eyes with you, but you didn’t know what to do.

“Leave! Now.” She seethed and stomped back to the bedroom, expecting Agatha to be gone when she got back.

The woman in front of you moved silently while you still processed what just happened. When she returned with her belongings, she gave you a note, but headed out without saying a word.

After a few minutes, you finally looked at the piece of paper in hand.

If you ever make up your mind...

1286 Lincoln St NW

(673) 867-5309

-Agatha

-

-

-

“YN, are you sure you’re alright? I really never would have expected my mom to touch you or even make you feel uncomfortable. I’m so sorry.” Jane sighed as she sat on the bed.

“I’m fine, J. You don’t have to apologize on her behalf.” You replied, sitting on the chair opposite her.

“I mean what even happened. Why did she do that?”

“Umm... I don’t know. We were just talking and then she started that.”

“What we’re you talking about?”

“Oh, I was just explaining how we met.” You tentatively answered.

“YN you didn’t have to tell her that. I know it’s personal for you, I can’t believe she forced you to talk about it.

“I uhh- actually didn’t mind. I wasn’t forced.”

“Then why would you trust her with something like that? You know how she is.”

“Because...” You thought about your next words carefully. “She cares.” Jane scoffs.

“That must be a different woman we’re talking about, YN. My mom is a selfish bitch who only cares for herself.”

That tipped the iceberg for you.

“You know, Jane? I understand that you and her might never be besties like she wants you to be, but that doesn’t mean you get to fuck her over now that she’s trying.” Your friend looks up at you in shock.

“Well she fucked me over my entire life, so I don’t see why I can’t do the same.”

“Because! Jane! She’s changed! It’s only right that you give her one more shot in your life!”

She took a pause.

“I’m sorry, YN, are you defending my MOM? After everything she’s done to me, and everything i’ve done for you?!”

“Yes. It is sick watching you throw something away that I can only dream of.” You spat angrily.

“Geez, YN. Just- get out of my fucking house. Keep your rent money for the month. Pack your shit and get the hell out of here.” She nearly ran out of the room.

But you weren’t surprised. In fact, you expected this the moment you chose your side.

-

-

-

The knocks resonate through the large door attached to the even larger house. Agatha has money.

You thought Jane was over exaggerating a little bit, but now you understood that she wasn’t. You sighed as your cab sped away, and now all you could do was wait.

Agatha opened the door, slightly shocked to see you, but nevertheless happy.

“Hey baby, what is it?”

You took a deep breath, taking in the sight of the woman who stood in front of you.

“I want you to make me feel special, mommy.”

-

-

-

link to part 2

[snackleggg]

Loud music and hard of hearing conspiracy

~~~

An Unidentified Flying Ship one shot

~~~

The music was blaring loudly but from the hallway at least it was a little muffled. Not entirely, Wes could still pick out the words to whatever awful pop song was playing if he focused but it was muted enough that he could at least ignore it.

How did I end up here?

A week ago everything had been fine, normal. Then everything went downhill.

It started when everyone was getting hyped about prom because it was only a week away. What was once an occasional subject that was mentioned once or twice in conversation quickly dominated the forefront of everyone's minds.

Of course with it came everyone talking about dates and Wes had rolled his eyes at the relationship drama that would proceed the school dance.

"What about you Wes?" His twin brother Kyle had asked.

Wes at the time was glaring at Fenton from across the cafeteria, totally zoned out from the world around him and whatever conversation was going on at the table but his brother's question had reeled him back in.

He blinked, turning his attention to Kyle who sat beside him "What about what?"

"Are you going with someone to prom?" One of the others at the table asked. Oh so the conversation had drifted there.

Before Wes could answer no, he was going to be too busy trying to gather evidence to expose Fenton someone else at the table went "I'm pretty sure he wants to ask Fenton to prom"

Wes' brain blue screened for a moment but when he saw everyone at the table nodding he was immediately snapped out of his stupor "wha- NO! Of course not! Why would you even think!?" Wes fumbled but then Kyle put his hand on Wes' shoulder.

"Bro, no offence but we all know you have a crush on Fenton and that you're just using your conspiracy theories as an excuse" Kyle said while looking at Wes sympathetically.

"I don't- I'm not using anything as an excuse, Fenton is Phantom! How can you guys not see it!?" Wes said, he was pointedly ignoring the heat he felt rush to his cheeks.

Another person at their table just shook their head in pity "Oh you poor thing, still in denial about your feelings. You know well still accept you no matter your sexuality right Wes?" They said and Wes heard his brother mumble something about how sad it was Wes thought ghosts were real.

At this point Wes was left completely speechless at the way all his friends seemed to agree with the outrageous notion that he had a crush on Danny Fenton. A crush.

Wes just stood up and walked away with his tray of half eaten slop. He could hear his friends sighing over how hopeless and oblivious he was.

It didn't stop there though.

Later that day at home Kyle, Wes and their older brother Easton were in the living room together quietly doing their own things. Kyle doing some homework, Easton texting someone and Wes looking over all the pictures he had gotten of Phantom after the fight earlier that day, unfortunately all were too blurry to make out anything Wes could actually use as evidence.

Then Kyle broke the comfortable silence.

"Hey Easton, you think you can give Wes some advice for asking his crush to prom?" Kyle asked, not even looking up from the algebra equation he was doing.

If Wes had been drinking anything he would've done a spit take, instead he settled for just staring at his brother in growing horror.

"Hmm? Crush? Oh you mean Jazz's younger brother?" Easton asked as he looked up from his phone. Wes already knew that Easton was good friends with Jazz Fenton but he became even more horrified by the fact that he had immediately connect the 'crush' Kyle had mentioned to Danny Fenton.

Kyle just nodded and Wes was still too shocked to say anything as he looked between his brothers.

"Well, you can never go wrong with chocolates and just straight up asking" Easton said with a shrug before looking back down at his phone.

Finally Wes regained he ability to speak "NO! I don't have a crush on Fenton!" Wes exclaimed.

"Wes you shouldn't be embarrassed to ask for help. I'm your brother, you can't really hide the fact that you have a huge crush on Fenton from me" Easton said simply and some part of Wes was thankful that neither of his brothers are currently looking at him because he knew his face was probably almost as red as his hair.

The larger part of Wes though was shocked and horrified by what his brother had just said.

Not for the first time that day Wes just got up and left without another word.

The rest of the week didn't fair any better.

Anytime Wes inforned his brothers or friends that he was going to tail Fenton to finally expose that he was Phantom they just rolled their eyes before going "Are you finally going to ask him to prom?" And everytime without fail Wes would turn bright red before stomping off in whatever direction Fenton had ran off to, muttering under his breath about how he did NOT have a crush on Fenton.

Finally, Friday he snapped.

"WHY!? Why does everyone think I have a crush on Fenton!? I thought it was obvious that I hate him!" Wes yelled after Kyle had off handedly asked if he had asked Fenton to prom yet.

"Duh, it's because you're pretty much infatuated with him" Kyle stated like it was obvious.

"I'm NOT infatuated!" Wes said.

"Then what do you have to say about all those pictures you take of him? Or following him and his friends around? The fact that you have an entire notebook filled with little facts about him that no one else would care to notice?" Kyle pointed out.

"That's all evidence! It's me trying to expose that he is really Phantom!" Wes argued.

"Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that but you can't live in denial forever bro. I mean why would you need to keep a catalogue of his interests or have so many photos of him just being normal and not at all 'ghostly' " Kyle said while making air quotes "that stuff can't be used as evidence so why still keep it?"

"Because! Be... because..." Wes stopped. Why did he keep all of those things? They weren't particularly helpful in exposing Fenton so why?

"It's cause you like-like him. Prom is tomorrow so I'm sorry to say your denial made you miss your chance to ask him out" Kyle said while patting Wes on the back.

Wes once again stood from the couch and walk away, up to his room and slammed the door behind him.

He spent the whole rest of the day just laying on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He went to prom the next day because some of his friends insisted he couldn't miss it.

For most of the night he had felt numb, especially as he watched people dance and talk and laugh together while he practically glued himself to the wall.

Then he spotted Fenton and Wes was hit again with his brothers words 'it's because you're pretty much infatuated with him'.

Wes hated to admit it but Fenton actually looked good. He wore a white dress shirt with a dark green bow tie and black slacks. It was simple but he pulled it off quite well and Wes couldn't help but notice how the flashing lights of the gym reflected off of Danny's ice blue eyes. How the constantly changing angle of the light highlighted his face a hundred different ways and none of them looked unflattering, at least not to Wes.

The music was loud, he could barely hear people standing right next to him so of course Wes couldn't hear what Danny and Sam were talking about on the other side of gym but Danny seemed to laugh at something she said and Wes couldn't tear his eyes away. He could almost imagine the laugh in his head, light and easy becoming a soft chuckle towards the end.

Wes looked down at the plastic cup full of punch he held in his hand. He could practically smell that someone had spiked it.

He soon found himself stumbling out of the gym because everything was so bright and loud and he needed more space between himself and Danny, definitely more than just a gymnasium's length at least until he figured out why the heck he felt his face flush when he thought about Danny's laugh.

So that's how Wes ended up sitting on the cool tile floors of the school's empty hallway. The lights were off so it was dark but the smallest bit of light poured in through the high up windows front the street lamps outside so it wasnt pitch black, even if it was hard to make out any details of his surroundings.

He didn't know how long he sat there staring at the swirling cup of liquid in his hands.

Eventually he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and he didn't need to lift his head to know it was Danny.

"Hey Wes" Danny's familiar voice echoed a little in the empty hallway, it wasn't the same kind of echo that his voice gained when he was Phantom Wes absentmindedly noted. He heard Danny sit down next to him on the cool tile floor.

"What brings you out here? Would've thought you'd be in the gym with your friends" Danny said.

Wes jostled the cup a little with his hand before gesturing to it "I think someone spiked the punch" Wes said instead of giving a straight answer to Danny's question.

"Oh? Good thing I was never a fan of punch. You good?" Wes could've sworn he heard actual concern leak into Danny's voice.

"Yeah, I only took a few sips" Wes shrugged and he leaned backwards against the metal lockers that lined the walls.

"What about you? Why're you out here?" Wes could now see Danny in his peripheral vision quite well. His legs were spread out straight infront of him unlike how Wes had his knees tucked against his chest. He also seemed to be leaning against the lockers behind them, looking relaxed against the cool metal.

"Technus decided to try and take over the DJ booth. I managed to stop him pretty quickly but I needed a breather so I came out here" Danny said, making a vague gesture with his hand.

"Hmm" Was Wes' only reply. The source of all his troubles, both old and new was sitting right next to him and they were holding a proper conversation like real people. No threats of exposing identities, no witty banter or mocking remarks.

To someone who didn't know any better it would almost seem like they were on civil terms with eachother.

What kind of terms are we on?

They weren't friends, not by a long shot. But enemies seemed too strong a word now that Wes thought about it. It wasn't like they were physically hurting eachother like Danny's other enemies. It was less literal battling and more metaphorical and figurative battling.

But after tonight would I even be able to do that anymore?

Wes couldn't just ignore the revelation forced upon him. He wasn't one for ignoring the obvious and when Kyle presented the evidence he had to admit his feelings were a tad obvious.

A comfortable silence was now between the two and Wes turned his head to look at Danny directly. His breath caught in his throat.

Danny was completely relaxed leaning against the lockers behind him. His hair was slightly disheveled, more so than usual. His eyes were closed and he had a faint smile on his face. The dim light shining in made his pale skin look like it was glowing, giving him an ethereal look. Wes was pretty sure that he could only glow in ghost form but that didn't stop the way the light reflected to make it seem otherwise. Wes also became hyper aware of the fact that they were sitting very close to eachother, if he leaned to the side a bit they would be brushing shoulders.

'Yeah, super obvious' Wes thought as he felt a blush find it's way onto his cheeks.

Wes managed to pry his eyes away and looked back down at his cup of spiked punch.

"Screw it" he mumbled before downing the whole thing.

"Hmm? What was that?" Danny asked as he peeked an eye open.

"Screw it" Wes said louder as he grabbed Danny by his collar and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Danny froze in place as Wes pulled back. The blush stood out against Danny's pale skin and Wes knew he was probably as red as tomato as he spoke "Wanna go dance? With me?" Wes asked cautiously.

Danny blinked before a doppy smile found it's way onto his face "Yeah, sure" he said.

Wes pushed himself up and held out a hand which Danny took without a moment's hesitation.

[4dtk]

“32, 37 hand holding and 3, 26 kissing with rookie actor mark and experienced actor s/o on their first drama together?” yes sure!!! excuse me but i don’t watch that much k-dramas so i’m doing this purely from youtube videos LOL + if it mirrors any other k-drama or is similar then it’s purely coincidence!! just conjuring something up in my mind lol

hand-holding, 32 & 37: not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands / not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

kisses, 3 & 26: smiling while kissing, giggling while kissing

“what’s that supposed to mean?” mark glances down at you in the field, saying his line that he’s practiced with you countless times. the poor boy was so worried about the outcome of it, having only acted as side or filler characters for the past year. although, with every gig he gets, you’re there to help him reach his fullest potential: practicing his lines with him, going through the different variations of how he could’ve executed it, accompanying him to sets.

even the staff couldn’t mask their shock when they see you walking together with a boy who was sweating his ass off, the familiar murmur of his few lines said under his breath as someone led you two to a common break room.

“don’t mind me,” you raise a hand, used to the starstruck faces that looked your way once the door opened. patting mark’s arm, you said something about supporting your boyfriend before settling beside him to work on hair and make-up. you conversed with him easily, briefly stopping at times to entertain autographs or pictures from the other side actors in the room.

it’s been like that since mark made his debut a year ago, taking up many gigs that you always supported. mark struck jackpot when he lucky to have someone to catch onto his talent, running an audition by him that got him the job (with a bit of persuasion on your side).

a job with you, where your embraces and kisses were not just reserved for the two of you in the comfort of your home, or where your affection was held back due to the intrusive cameras. this was an entirely new variation: of moments taken in private mixed with the recognisable traits of korean drama.

the touch of your skin is familiar to mark, but the words that come out of his mouth feel foreign instead. it’s not often that he spouts something so poetic written by the hand of skilled scriptwriters, but at least now he has more words to tell you when he can’t do it in his normal, unique way.

“exactly what i said. why do you need an explanation?” you giggle, hand wiggling out of the expensive coat that your stylist put on you for this scene.

you can tell mark’s arms are struggling to hold himself up, with a teasing glint in your eye that suggests you’re making fun of his strength. your laugh deepens when you realise he’s waiting for you to say your line, pleading with his eyes. he's not used to it yet.

you wait for dramatic effect. “after all, my love for you needs no explanation,” you swear you see mark release a sigh of relief, able to finally lower himself to you while he rests half of his body weight onto your person. his character’s kisses are soft, not much different from your own boyfriend’s as he deepens the kiss.

“remember how i wondered about how you taste like?” he pulls away to ask, the line referencing an interaction from one of the earlier episodes where his character said the same thing.

“what do i taste like, han jiwoo?” the foreign name rolls off your tongue easily now.

“hm… if i’m being honest, i forgot. i might have to kiss you again to find out,” mark delivers the line perfectly and doesn’t hesitate to lean again for another kiss. you’re sure he’s not acting now.

your mouths do a great job of hiding things, before his tongue swipes across your lips. there’s a squeeze from your hand when he does that, but you grant him access either way, melting into it with a cheeky smile that grows and a heart that feels full.

you can taste the incoming snort from mark but he manages to hold it in with a mere giggle. your kisses start and stop, struggling to get in even a bit of contact from how much you’re laughing. like always, you two hold your kisses to make sure there’s sufficient footage, but you have to admit that it was partially indulgent, too.

the scene was almost over, and when mark brings you to your feet you’re able to breath easier, both from your boyfriend’s weight on you and the released tension in having laid in wet grass for the past fifteen minutes.

his hand twines around yours, dragging you along the field as you run off into the distance, shoving and pulling playfully while the camera prepares to pan up. the last shot is of the two of you holding hands, swinging it like a pendulum before the green of the field disappears and the blue of the sky appear. soon, it fades to black.

“and that’s a wrap! thank you, everyone!” the director shouts. claps are heard and you’re dragging mark by then, stripping off the coat that’s overheating your body. it drapes over your elbow easily, responding to the other’s searching hand as you take it in yours. all the way to the dressing room you head seemed to permanently stay down, continuously bowing to directors, producers, staff members.

all you’re focused on is getting to your next schedule, promising to the cast that you’ll treat them to a meal soon as your shout resonates throughout the space. everyone cheers and you reply with a grin, slipping into the dressing room.

as you remove the hairdo with one hand, you ask randomly, “so? what do you think of han jiwoo?”

mark looks up from his phone, pulling a face while he thinks of an answer.

"well, for one, i'm jealous of him for kissing you." that elicits a laugh out of you, giving him a squeeze with your hand before he goes back to his social media with a smile, "but he's a cool kid. i'm glad i got the chance to portray h..."

a thud from the doorframe snaps you out of the moment.

"ah! s-sorry, mark-sunbaenim, (y/n)-sunbaenim," they bow immediately.

"i hope you don't mind b-but, i just came over to tell you how much i loved your chemistry on screen! it's such an honour to be on set with the both of you, especially you, mark-sunbaenim."

you grin as the other flushes at the compliment, but the side actor continues. you don't mind.

"i'm hoping to get a big role like you too, mark-sunbaenim! i've been watching your other shows, too. the way you give life to a character is always very refreshing," your boyfriend takes refuge in your connected hands.

"and i can't help but notice the love you have off-screen too! it's endearing, (y/n)-sunbaenim. i hope i'll have a love as strong as your hands are held right now!" mark barely manages a thank you as the actor excitedly bows again before making his leave.

once he's out of earshot, you giggle at the scrunched up expression, face warm from the comment about him to your interlocked hands and your relationship.

"that was unexpected," similarly, you packed your things again with a single hand when mark reluctantly stands up, overwhelmed.

"y'know, i didn't even know our hands were connected for that long until he said something." mark groans. you laugh.

"please stop talking, i might actually explode," your lover calmly says, letting you drag him out the back door with your hand in his.

with a small peck, your lips meet the back of his hand, "well before i do, i need to tell you that i vouch for every little thing that guy earlier mentioned. talent in every bone in your body, mark lee."

you flag down your manager's car too fast to see the smile on mark's face, but he's grateful for your heartfelt words as he thanks you with kisses and cuddles later in the night.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

-

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help. 

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word. 

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose. 

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder. 

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down. 

He started.

Pushing.

Them. 

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you. 

You don't have think. 

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain. 

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away. 

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change. 

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder. 

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

-

Kim Seokjin was furious. 

Furious! 

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

-

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling. 

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you. 

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly. 

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

-

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high. 

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again. 

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles. 

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that. 

You thinned your mouth into a line. 

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate. 

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on. 

He was a cat. 

(Man.)

-

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste. 

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well. 

Not your preferred thick white drink. 

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you. 

"Show me how to sew."

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following. 

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man. 

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So. 

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety. 

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that? 

No. You were too busy thinking about dick. 

His dick. 

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now. 

-

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor. 

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

-

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

-

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you. 

Fuck. 

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive. 

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time. 

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything. 

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea. 

Jungkook laughed to himself. 

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept. 

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body. 

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look. 

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat. 

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm. 

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor. 

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction. 

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well. 

-

Yoongi looked into your eyes. 

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic. 

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well. 

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity. 

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it. 

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look. 

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears. 

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help. 

-

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

-

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

-

part v

--

masterpost

[dangerous-mess]

Holiday Troubles

Characters: Aizawa, trans male reader

Contains: Unsupportive family, transphobia, homophobia, misgendering, mentions of a deadname (D/N), mentions of religion and praying, mentions of dysphoria, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending. This was written mainly as a comfort fic during the winter holidays but wanted to post this here (originally posted on AO3). Please read with caution as this content may be triggering for some

Word Count: 2K+ 

The holidays were always rough for you, being not only gay but transgender as well. There were the off-putting tension and feelings every time you walked in the room, and the side glances and judgemental glares that were shot your way if you were even caught wearing something feminine and not masculine. Mostly from your parents and family, feeling the obligation that you had to follow gender norms in the hope to not only pass but to be taken seriously in your own identity.

The holidays got a little easier once you married your now husband. He made visiting your family a bit easier and made the holidays in general, more enjoyable for you. This year, unfortunately, he had meetings and a nightly patrol that he couldn’t get out of, so you were left to go to the Christmas family gathering by yourself.

The day came, and needless to say, you were a nervous mess. You dressed up in a suit, something masculine of course to appease your family and keep those comments at bay. Though, you knew you weren’t in the clear as there was still a high chance of being deadnamed and misgendered by family who were unsupportive or others who just didn’t try. Your husband, Shouta, let you know before he left early that morning that if you needed anything at all to give him or Hizashi a call and they would come and get you in a heartbeat. He said Hizashi, just in case he couldn’t be reached, which was fine with you, Hizashi had become a close friend to you.

You arrived at your parent's house a little later than they asked, just cause you were nervous and needed more time to prepare for this evening. You knocked on the front door, adjusting your suit as you waited for someone to open the door, only to be greeted by one of your younger siblings. They gave you a big hug, before dragging you inside where you were greeted by family. Your grandmother was the first to deadname you. She called out as you talked to your uncle, a devious smile on her face as the name rolled off her tongue. You cringed hearing it and so badly wanted to correct her, but if your mother caught wind that you did, who knows what drama may pursue. You endured the conversation with her, as she made sure to drop in your deadname every chance she could get.

“Honestly D/N, you really should stop playing dress up and realize that you are a girl. Your husband would be so much happier to have a wife who knows her place and not some confused girl.”

You took a deep breath and bid your goodbyes to your grandmother as you went to find someone else to talk to. Eventually, dinner was called, and you all gathered around and your grandfather said a prayer. You looked down at your feet the entire time, not really wanting to participate in the prayer. Soon it wrapped up and a line formed into the kitchen to get food. After everyone got food, everyone gathered around and talked, telling stories of things that happened within the past year in their lives, as well as asking questions to others to get the latest scoop. You just decided to eat silently, trying to not participate in the gossip fest happening before you.

“So Y/N, how are you and your husband doing?” Your dad asked before he took a sip of a beer. You held up your pointer finger, signaling that you needed a moment as your finished chewing food before you smiled and spoke.

“Oh, we are doing well! He sends his deepest apologies that he couldn’t make it, hero duties called.” You smiled, taking a quick glance around the room. Some whispers were exchanged, knowing it was about you and Shouta. It was clear that besides your family not supporting your identity, they also did not support your marriage to a hero. Especially a hero who was supportive of you and your identity.

“Honestly, how she manages to keep such a hero man, is insane. Like who would wanna marry some confused lesbian?” One of your aunts spoke out. You gripped your glass tightly, biting your tongue, not wanting to start any issues.

Other family members chimed in to add on to your aunt's comment and soon it became too much. You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom farthest away from your family. You pulled out your phone and texted your husband. You told him that you needed him or Hizashi or someone to come to pick you up, as you originally walked, as it was nice earlier prior to the sun setting. You quickly got a reply, saying your husband was on his way, and that he was getting someone to cover the rest of his patrol. You felt a bit bad to interrupt and have him leave his patrol, but god you just needed him right now more than anything.

You hid amongst the rooms as you waited for Shouta to send you a message or signal that he was here. Your mom called out your name, walking down the hall looking for you. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you and grabbed your arm.

“Come on Y/N, we are about to exchange gifts. Stop trying to hide and be nice and spend time with your family. It took a lot of work and effort to get everyone here, like your grandparents who haven’t seen you in ages.” Your mom aggressively whispered at you, as she pulled you towards the living room. You stayed silently, hoping that your husband would be here soon.

Your mom let you go and pointed to a chair near the tree. You sat down and were handed some gifts. You slowly opened them, trying not to draw attention to yourself. The first gift was in a gift bag, and opening it exposed a colorful piece of clothing. You pulled it out and it was a sundress. Although you didn’t mind breaking gender norms, dresses were never your thing, they held too many bad memories and made you dysphoric. You frowned, not having the energy to fake a smile. You felt your mind start to spiral before a voice pulled you out.

“Oh, D/N do you not like it. I made sure to even get the right size and everything. I thought you could put that on and surprise your husband when you go home. Imagine how he would react to see his wife, finally coming to terms with herself.” Your grandmother called out, staring at you the entire time. You went to open your mouth when another voice spoke up.

“Actually, I think my husband looks handsome and perfect just the way he is in the suit he is wearing, but thank you. Maybe we can save the dress and give it to one of my students, I know one of them would get much better use of it.” Shouta’s voice boomed out, making a hush fall across the room. You never heard the front door open, but then again Shouta was very good at staying silent. You looked at your husband, feeling all your emotions and feelings starting to rise to the surface. You caught a dirty look your mother gave you as you stood up and made your way over to Shouta.

He held out his hand as you got closer and held it tightly, quickly bidding goodbye for you both as he quickly led you outside to the car that was waiting outside and still running. “I had Hizashi drive me over, hope that’s okay.” You just nodded at him, not letting go of his hand until you got into the car. As soon as you and Shouta were in the car, Hizashi sped off.

“Heya listener, how did it go?” Hizashi asked out, peeking into the mirror looking back at you.

“I lasted longer than last year, so that’s a new record at least.” You joked, trying not to cry. At least not now, you had to make it until you were home and in bed, with your husband holding you close.

Hizashi talked most of the ride home, while Shouta kept glancing back at you. You tried to listen to what was being said, but you couldn’t focus, so you just looked out the window, slightly dozing off. You woke up to the feeling of being carried, your eyes adjusted as you saw Shouta was carrying you into the house and to the bedroom. On any other occasion, if he was carrying you like this you were bound to tease or crack a joke or something, but in this moment you just stayed in his arms, gripping onto him tightly. Once you both got to the bedroom, he helped you undress and slip on something comfy. After he finished helping you, he quickly changed and climbed into bed, pulling you close to him and holding you tightly.

For a while, you just laid there in his arms, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. Though, after he comforted you and let you know it was okay to be upset and that you could let it all out. In which you did, you sobbed in his chest for what felt like hours. You screamed and sobbed and let out all the feelings you bottled up for the few hours you were at the family gathering. Eventually, you ran out of tears to cry and were only left with your own thoughts. You were overthinking, mostly dwelling on the words your family spoke out to you this evening, and couldn’t help but question if it was true.

“Sho...I’ve got to ask you something, kind of important.” You gently pushed away and sat up in the bed, looking at him. He stared at you, and nodded, letting you know it was okay to continue on. You took a deep breath and went for it, “Am I enough for you? I brought a lot of baggage and trouble into our relationship and I know it can’t be easy for you dating me, specifically with the backlash and comments that get made by my family and others about me transitioning and just. If you were with anyone else, I feel like you won’t get all this drama and I’m sorry I’ve brought so much of it onto you Shouta.”

You watched as his facial expression changed and you quickly looked away, finding interest in anything that wasn’t his face, afraid of what his reaction not only meant but the words that were about to follow. “Y/N, please look at me.” You slowly looked up and he placed a hand on your cheek. “I love you Y/N. I love you for you, you are my husband and I won’t want anyone else besides me. You are more than enough for me. And we both have a lot of baggage but that doesn’t change my feelings for you, we can work through it all together. I meant what I said in my vows and at our wedding and I still stand by it. Forever and always.”

You fiddled with your fingers before speaking up, “I love you Shouta so much, I’m just afraid one day I won’t be enough, cause as silly as it is, I don’t feel masculine or manly enough, that you’ll find more of a ‘real’ man one day and just leave me behind.” Tears filled your eyes and you looked down, just wanting to hide under the blankets.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are absolutely masculine and manly enough. I will never find anyone else or more a man than you. You are all I want, and all I need. I love you so much, don’t ever doubt my love for you, cause it is never-ending sweetheart.” Shouta spoke out, lifting your head up and placing a small kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms, holding you close. You just stayed there close, as Shouta whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

Shouta always made the holidays more bearable, but he also made life in general easier. He made waking up a little easier and helped with your hectic thoughts to calm you down. He truly was the love of your life and the best you could ever ask for. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier to have a husband as sweet and perfect as you. He may not be the number one hero to the rest of the world, but in your eyes and his heart, he was, he was your number one hero.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Slumber Party

Request 4: C!Ranboo and his best friend just having a calm like self-care sort of night? Like just some fluffy friendly content- maybe the reader playing with his hair? 🥺 I thrive on platonic content so so much

Requested By: Anonymous 

(PLATONIC!Ranboo x Reader) 

I felt like this one was better written in HeadCannon style hope that’s okay!

Marching through the Tundra the snow crunched under your feet, this was the first time you had made the journey out to visit Ranboo. 

You two had been inseparable since he came to the country of New L’manburg, Tubbo had introduced the both of you and you were attached at the hip ever since. You were one of the first names under the best friends category in his memory book and you had a locket with his face inside it labeled best friend. 

So it was only natural that he had made sure you were the first person who had direct permission from Technoblade to be on his property. 

The pigman had warmed up to you surprisingly quickly, mainly because you had brought him a housewarming gift.

(The gift in question was some of your world-famous homemade mashed potatoes)

He took it stiffly and gruffly, turning away from the both of you to walk back towards his house. 

Ranboo rushed to assure you that, that’s what he does when he appreciates something.

You chose to ignore the weird reaction in favor of following Ranboo to his home.

Ranboo’s pets remembered you and it was a joyful reunion between all of them. It ended in many snuggles and pets from both parties. 

Eventually, Ranboo suggested you both move away from the pets and do something more fun. Mainly he wanted to officially show off his new powers to you, keeping them a secret had been immensely challenging.

The both of you sat across from one another on the floor, in front of you he placed a grass block. 

“Ready?”

“Considering I don’t know what you’re doing sure.”

You almost screamed when he broke the grass and it was still...well grass. 

“Do it again! Can you do it to other blocks or just dirt? What else can you pick up?

He couldn’t help but preen at all the praise and you were happy to dish out the compliments. 

Ranboo explained how he went around with Techno to do some little experiments with what he could pick up. 

You could care less about the spawners but the cake was another story. You made him pick it up about five times, eyes sparkling about unlimited cake. 

Finally, to distract you away from the cake he asked how you were doing living with Tubbo in Snowchester.

“The nukes freak me out a little but other than that it’s peaceful. Tubbo and Jack’s shenanigans are super entertaining, I love living by Charlie! His puns make me laugh and he feels like he’s having a permanent mental breakdown. Which is again, very entertaining.” 

Ranboo gave a soft chuckle, “Yeah I mean understandable whenever I visit there’s certainly never a dull moment.”

The only thing that did worry you was how weird Jack Manifold was being around Tommy. There was just a weird vibe you couldn’t quite put your finger on and Ranboo frowned in distaste. He felt it too.

However, today was a good day. No sad or worrying thoughts and certainly no dwelling on business that wasn’t either of your own. 

Ranboo watched your brow crease in worry and immediately wanted to steer your thoughts away from any negativity. 

RANBOO SAYS THERE’S NO SADNESS ALLOWED IN HIS HOUSE UNLESS IT’S HIS OWN

“You wanna braid my hair?” He ended up blurting and watched you blink in surprise your sadness fading away and it was replaced with a look of confusion.

“Is...Is it long enough?” You tilted your head to the side, now officially eyeing his multicolored hair. 

“I don’t know...You wanna try?” 

“Yeah! Totally!” You chirped as he nodded, you both moved to shift into a more comfortable position. He sat in front of you, you could barely see over his shoulder to even reach his hair you had to sit up on your knees. 

“Hold it!” Ranboo paused turning to look over his shoulder, “put a pillow down.” He mama henned you, “you’re gonna bruise your knees.” 

You grabbed a pillow with an eye roll and put it beneath your knees as he instructed.

You gently put your crown off his head and placed it on your own, you began to run your fingers through his hair.

How was it so soft? It’s way softer than yours! That’s not fair! 

Ranboo felt you huff against him, and he smirked to himself but his face immediately melted into a relaxed expression as you ran your fingers through it. 

You began to softly braid the strands of hair, waiting curiously as the stray stands of white and black got intermixed with one another.

You ended up making two small pigtail braids and tying the ends with rubber bands to make them stay in place. You had placed his crown back on his head and smirked proudly. 

He turned to face you and your smirk turned into a proud grin, 

“How’s it looking?”

“You look amazing. I’m amazing, the talent I have is immense.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He declared moving over to look in the mirror, he had to admit you didn’t do a terrible job at all.

He turned back to face you and declared it was your turn for him to play with your hair.

So the both of you switched positions, you sitting comfortably in between his legs as he brushed his fingers through your hair. 

In the end, Ranboo couldn’t figure out how to do anything other than put it in a small ponytail. 

You snickered at his misfortune but assured you loved the new hairstyle and decided you’d wear it for the remainder of the night. 

“You don’t have to.” Ranboo sighed shoulders slumping forward, “your hair will only get tangled-”

“Too late I’m wearing it all night and you can’t stop me.” 

“(Y/n) please.” 

“Never. It’s my new style now, permanent hair doo.” 

“Please no.”

An idea struck you suddenly declaring the both of you make the night a self-care experience

Ranboo had no idea what that meant but decided he’d follow your lead. 

You snickered, he had no idea what he was in for, you told him to give you five minutes and everything would make sense.

Unfortunately due to his Enderman traits, Ranboo would experience the warm water of a pedicure so you’d make due.

You came back arms full of the so-called self-care supplies you’d mentioned earlier.

The first thing you declared that you were going to paint his nails, you demanded he picks the colors he wanted and he hesitantly picked out a soft red color.

You painted his claws swiftly, he adored it immediately seeing the first nail completed. 

Once all of his nails were finished he held his hands out and wiggled his fingers, his eyes lighting up in childlike wonder.

“Let’s do more self-care. Right now!” 

You laughed happily and promised him there was more to come, and not to worry.

Eventually, the sun began to set over the hills and both of you were clad in a face mask, cucumbers sitting atop both your eyes.

You were sipping a strawberry smoothie, and Ranboo was sipping on peanut butter and banana. 

“Can we get Tubbo in on this next time? He seems like he needs it.” Ranboo asked suddenly a cucumber sliding off his eye to stare at you. You looked back at him with a hum,

“Absolutely. Maybe Tommy can come too.” 

“This is why you’re the smart friend.” He complimented, “Although we couldn’t have it here for reasons that look like a half pigman.” 

“That’s alright my house is big enough to fit everyone. Plus I have more self-care stuff there anyway.” You turned to face him this time popping off the cucumbers on your own eyes yourself, 

“I’ll tell Tubbo and you find Tommy?” Ranboo hummed, “Does next weekend work for you?”

“I do nothing like all the time so yes. It works.” 

“How do you stay away from everything, all the drama, and the fighting?”

“I only talk to like three people,” You let out a small laugh rubbing the back of your neck, “Can’t get into drama and wars when you’re barely noticed.” Ranboo frowned a little nudging you with his arm, 

“First of all, you are noticed. Whenever I gush about you everyone knows who I’m talking about,” He watched you flush a little at the inclination that he talks about you, “Second I will not have my friends talking bad about themselves or they’ll have to fight me.” You gave a little laugh and Ranboo held up his fists, “I’m gonna fight those negative thoughts.”

“My hero,” You cooed holding your hands to your chest and he smiled fondly at you. 

“Plus staying drama and war-free means you’re safe and that’s what’s important.”

“But I want you safe too.” 

“I… trust me.” He lied and you could tell there was something he wasn’t telling you but you knew Ranboo and it wasn’t good to press the boy, so for now...you let it go.

“You know I do, always will Boo.” You rest your head on his shoulder and he let you snuggle up close to him, he rested his chin on top of your hair. “Just don’t get hurt okay, I need you in my life.”

“I don’t plan on leaving you behind. Don’t worry.” Ranboo promised and watched as you held out your pinky towards him. 

“Pinky promise,” you whispered and he melted, 

“Promise.” He interlocked his long pinky finger with your own, from that moment on he knew he had made the right choice to join the Syndicate. He wanted to protect you, and being apart of the Syndicate would certainly allow him to do so, he had to fight to protect the ones he loved. Tubbo, Micheal, and you...he’d go against the world for them, even with his memory problems and his Enderwalking his only goal was to protect his friends, and that’s what he was going to do even if it killed him.

[supraveng]

Marvelous Friends part 1

Summary:  You join your best friend at a party, and meet the man of your dreams?

Characters: Reader, Benedict Cumberbatch x Sophie Hunter, RDJ x Susan Downey, Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans

Warnings: cursing, reader in over her head, bad writing...

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Aaron, you are supposed to be preventing these things, not causing them“ you scream into your cell phone so agitated by this whole thing that you aren’t even aware that there are people watching you from the window.

You stepped outside trying to not cause a scene or god forbid have Sophie’s kids hear you and repeat anything you might say.  You finally hang up and throw your phone across the lawn as Benedict comes out the door to check on you. 

“Everything ok dear?” he approaches you with a smirk knowing full well that you are irritated beyond rational conversation.  “Can I get you anything?” he asks.  Turning to face him now that you’ve taken a few deep breaths, 

“I think I need a new manager, got any good ones lying around?” you reply.  

“Holy Shit!  That was your manager!  I just thought your husband  was in the doghouse!  Hi, I’m Robert” he sticks out his hand and you shake it, thankfully you are still too riled up to get star struck and make a fool of yourself.  

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t intend to be that loud, but that man is an absolute jackass!  I’m Y/N” you respond as you blow out some air and try to calm down.   

“Y/N darling, you need a drink, let me make you a martini” 

“No, Benny, I’m your babysitter tonight and you know one martini turns into 5” you smirk as you follow  the two of them back into the house.  

Sophie is coming down the stairs and her smile disappears when she sees your red face and Benedict heading toward the kitchen. “Y/N, what happened?  Are you ok?” she asks, her voice thick with worry.  

“Oh Phie, I’m fine, Aaron is just trying my patience and I couldn’t stay quiet” you smile as she wraps you in a hug, then busts out laughing.  

“Well, that’s a long time coming, I’m not sure how you have worked with him this long without bloodshed” she quips as Benedict hands you a cup of tea.  

“I’m not that bad to work with, I just don’t like my personal life to be used without my permission. Ugh, I just don’t have the energy for him today, I wanted to come and have fun with Kit, Hal & Finn” you whine as you sip your tea “but apparently the drama pays off because this is the best cup of tea Benny has ever made for me, thank you” you reach up and peck his cheek “I’m feeling better already.” 

“Good, because the boys have a list of fun for you tonight and they are extremely excited.” Sophie responds “Oh, and this is Susan, Robert’s wife”  

“It’s nice to meet you, now you all go on and have a lovely dinner and don’t worry about us” you smile to the couples as you head upstairs to check on the kids. 

Three hours later the two couples walk back into the house to find you frantically typing on your laptop at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, with a cold cup of tea next to you.  You jump when you hear someone clear their throat, not realizing they had come in and were all staring at you.  

“What? Why are you all staring at me?” you ask.  

Sophie shakes her head and giggles at you “we asked if you wanted to join us for a drink, apparently you are very focused on your work and didn’t even hear us come in.”   

“Sorry, I was planning my wedding” you reply with a smirk “Kit proposed again, actually, I’m not sure this was a proposal, it was more or less a list of reasons why my previous decline is not being accepted.  Apparently, age is just a number and I can move to England right away, so the wedding is next week” you explain as you follow the others over to the bar.   

Benedict turned around with a guilty look on his face, “what did you do?” his wife asks with a pointed glare.   “I was reassuring our son that if he liked someone and made his intentions known then any girl would be lucky to have him, but in my defense, I thought he was talking about that little girl down the street, Madison.   They were playing yesterday and he seemed smitten, so when he mentioned his love living in the US and not in England…..I was trying to help” he huffed out as he started pouring the drinks.   

You all start laughing and realize that since it’s Benedict’s fault, he will have to break it to Kit that you will not be marrying him next week.  “Why do I have to be the bad guy here?  It was an accident!” Ben protests “and why didn’t you just tell him you have a boyfriend already and can’t marry him?”  

“Because I would never lie to Kit” you respond, sipping your martini.   “I haven't really met anyone since I moved back from Vancouver, a few dates here or there but no one to write home about" you say with a shrug  “Well, in that case, can I give you away at the wedding?”  Robert asks and thankfully lightens the mood.  It was another two hours of drinking and laughing with your oldest and newest friends before you all decide to call it a night.   

“Y/N, Robert and I are having friends over to our place on Sunday, we would love for you to be there” Susan states as they are heading toward the door.  “That’s so sweet, thank you, I’ll just tag along as an extra Cumberbatch” you tell her as you hug her goodbye. 

You wake the next morning and know that you have a ton of work to do and 0 motivation.   Deciding to distract yourself as best you can, you text Sophie about the party at Susan & Robert’s.

So what kind of party is this thing tomorrow?

Phie: They usually have 30 or so people, tons of food, drinks, but very laid back.  I think you will like it 

That’s reassuring, the last thing I need is to make a fool out of myself in front of Ben’s celebrity friends

Phie: Oh, there will definitely be celebs there, but honestly I have no idea who, most likely a bunch of the Marvel crew, those who are in town anyway….but don’t stress, they are all  mostly normal people, lol

Well, I’m going to work on some writing and then maybe try to find something nice to wear to the party, I might make a fool of myself, but I need to look like I have my act together

Phie: Send me pics, I’ll help you decide….btw Ben has been questioning me on your dating habits, I have a funny feeling that he might try to set you up...

Well, that sounds dreadful,  I love your husband but what is his track record for match making?

Phie: I don't think he's actually ever tried to set anyone up before

Fantastic, I'm the guinea pig 🙄

 Ok, what do you think of these, I don’t want to be overdressed or look like I’m homeless

Phie: I love them both, but how about you were the short one & I borrow the blue one?  

That is a great idea!  I’ll be there a bit early so we can get ready together.  Who is staying home with the boys?

Phie: Actually, day time parties with the Downey’s usually includes the kids, so they will be joining us

Time for the party came earlier than you had anticipated as you pulled up to Phie’s house, Kit came running out the door with a big smile on his face.  Crouching down you scooped him into a hug and kissed his cheek.  

“Well aren’t you in a good mood today, handsome?” asking as you set him back down.  He grabbed your hand and began dragging you back to the house. 

 “Mum told me we can’t get married next week, but I can still love you for the rest of my life, isn’t that great!” he exclaimed as you walked in the front door.  

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all week!  And I get to love you for the rest of my life too” you reply watching the realization hit him and his smile get even bigger and run off to tell everyone the good news.  Before you could do anything, you went back out to your car and grabbed your bags and then headed up to Phie’s bedroom to get ready.  

“There you are, I was beginning to worry” she said as she pecked your cheek and gave you a hug, then handed you a glass.  

“Did you start day drinking without me?” you inquire as you sip on the merlot with a smile on your face.  

“I just opened the bottle for us to enjoy while we get ready.  I spoke with Kit and the wedding is off but he understands and all is well.  Benedict tried and, just made everything messier” she responded while pulling the blue dress from the garment bag.  

“You did a fantastic job, he gave me the biggest hug and seems very happy that we will not be getting married” you giggle as you move around her room figuring out the best place to put your things.  

“I think he’ll be more upset about you taking off next week than anything, that’s why I’m not planning on telling him until after you’ve gone.  He has grown really attached to you” she smirks as she’s slipping the dress on.  

Before you realize it, the wine bottle is empty and Ben is knocking on the door.

“You two look amazing as always, but the car is here, so we need to head out.  Can you bring Kit down with you while I go down and get Hal & Finn seated in the car?” he asks as Kit comes in and gasps looking up at his mom.   

“Mum, you look like a princess” he hugs her legs and looks up at her lovingly. 

 “Thank you love, you look very handsome.  Are you ready to go? Do you have your bag?” she asks while rubbing his back.  

“Oh, I need to get that, and can I give Y/N her present now?”  You look over a bit confused 

“oh Kit, you didn’t have to get me a gift” you tell him as he gives you a hug.   

“But it’s important to show the people you love how special they are, I’ll be right back” he states as he heads back downstairs.  You look at Sophie confused and she just smirks at you as both follow him down to the kitchen.   He holds up a cupcake with a huge grin on his face.  

“This is for you, because you are as sweet as a cupcake.  And that’s a ring you can wear to remind you that you are wonderful when I’m not here to tell you.” 

 You feel like you are about to cry, it was by far the most sincere and thoughtful thing you have ever heard.  “Thank you!  I love it & I love you!” you told him as you kissed his forehead and put the ring on.  

“Alright, let’s get going Kit, dad and your brothers are in the car waiting for us!” Sophie grabbed his hand and laced your arm with hers as she ushered you all out the door. 

Stepping out of the car at the Downey’s house you started walking towards the door when Kit came up and grabbed your hand.  

“Can I be your date tonight?” he asked with a shy grin.  

“Absolutely!  There’s no one else I would want to accompany me tonight.”  

Ben turns to you, holding Hal & Finn “remember Kit, the kids are going to be playing upstairs, but you can join us when you get hungry, alright?”  

“Yes, dad, but Y/N is still my girl” he stated proudly as you walked through the door.  

“That’s right Ben, I’m Kit’s girl!” you lean down and kiss the top of his head just before he heads up the stairs with his dad.  Sophie grabbed your arm and the two of you headed further into the house.  

Robert spotted you almost immediately and came over hugging you both “where is the fiance? Are all the details in place for the ceremony?  I’m still walking you down the aisle right?”  

“Hi Robert, I’m sorry but the ceremony has been cancelled.   Sophie was able to talk some sense into Kit since Benny was useless” you reply.  

“I heard that!” Ben remarks as he’s coming into the room.   “And in my defense, I’m not useless, just not very good at telling my son no.”  

“It’s alright dahling, you tried your best.” Sophie tried to console Benedict who seemed to take your statement to heart.  

“Well, I’m glad you made it, can I get you a drink?” Susan asked as an attempt to move on to a more neutral conversation.   

“Yes, please” you replied happily as you followed her to the bar.  

“Y/N? Y/N L/N?  Holy Shit!”  You heard from the doorway to the next room, where most of the party goers had already gathered.  You turned and was shocked 

“Seb?  Holy Shit!  How are you?” you asked as you moved over to hug him.  “It’s been so long, I’m surprised you recognized me.”  

“I’m good” he responded “and yea, it’s been like...10 years? And you look great, haven’t aged a bit!”  

You laughed at his response “that is an absolute lie, but I will take the compliment anyway.” you giggle at him.  He was always such a nice guy to work with and genuinely considerate to everyone on set.  His charming personality always made you smile. 

“This is so great running into you, I saw your interview on Good Day LA last week.  You are doing so great!” he said with a huge smile.  

“Oh thanks, but I think that may have been the worst interview in the history of television.   I was honestly hoping no one saw it” you cringed rethinking how quickly the questions had gone off the rails.  You are a writer, becoming more well known over the past decade so interviews were becoming more common for you, but that one felt more like a Twilight Zone episode.  

“Well, it was a bit crazy, but you handled a lot better than most people would.  I was impressed” he grinned as he took a sip of his beer.  

“Thanks, I appreciate that, and my whole deer in headlights reaction.” you commented as you took the drink Susan offered.  

“Hey, I didn’t know you knew each other?” you heard Robert say as he came up from behind you “and what happened in the interview?”  

“Yea, I was writing for Gossip Girl, back when Seb was on and he was constantly teasing me for being cold” you reminded him with a smirk.  

“New York in fall is beautiful, not cold! You are crazy!” he responds as he starts laughing at me.  

“And the interview was a shit show that I barely made it out alive” you state with a roll of your eyes.  

“That’s not true, you put that woman in her place and didn’t seem fazed by her ridiculous questions at all” he told me.  

“What the hell happened?” Robert seemed more interested than I thought he would 

“we were talking about my new book and the book tour coming up, then all of a sudden she’s asking me about my ex” I responded as I shrugged my shoulders.  Sebastian looked at me “then, the woman asks if she’s seeing anyone now, and your response was priceless, I might steal it if you don’t mind”  he states as he’s laughing remembering the interview.  

“Y/N, dear, what did you say?” Robert asks with a smirk.  

“I asked her ‘why? Are you shooting your shot?” as you start laughing too, realizing that you probably couldn’t have planned it if you tried.  At this point you realize there are more of the Marvel friends standing around listening to your conversation and you don’t even care.   

Your first drink is kicking in and it’s not like you are ever going to see these people again. “Honestly, I don’t know why she even mentioned my ex, nobody cares who I’m dating, I’m a writer”  

“Yes, but when us writers date high profile celebrities, people want to know” Sophie reminds you as she puts her arm around you.  

“Oh Phie, high profile is a bit of a stretch doncha think? But you are always my voice of reason, this is why I love you!” you say as you kiss her cheek.  Looking around the room you wonder if there’s anyone else here you know, when you see Chris Evans on the other side of the room.  

Benedict immediately follows your line of sight and smirks before taking your empty glass.  “I think you need a refill, here allow me, why don't you and Sophie go find a place to chat.”  

His wife shakes her head and gives you a small sympathetic smile before sending him back for refills.  Sophie drags you further into the room and finds a spot to sit that gives you a better view of Mr. Evans.  

“I didn’t realize you knew Sebastian” she said as she sat.  

“Yea, we worked together when I was living in NY, that was 10 or 12 years ago.  I didn’t know you knew him” you respond.  She looks at you questioningly, then shakes her head.  

“All the Marvel people know each other, you still haven’t watched the movies, have you?”  

“Um, I haven’t seen all of them, there are a lot, but I did watch Doctor Weirdo, and Benny was very good!” you respond quite proud of yourself.  

“Bloody hell!  It’s Doctor Strange, we’ve had this discussion before” Ben states as he hands you your fresh drink.  

“Ok, I’m sorry.  Doctor Strange, although I don’t think that’s much better than Doctor Weirdo.  And in my defense, your facial hair in the movie gave me nightmares'' you say as you sip on your drink. 

“Anyway, did the ex contact you after the interview?  I’m just curious?” Ben asks, rolling his eyes at you.  

You scrunch up your nose at the question “no, why would he? I haven’t spoken to him in the last four years. And honestly I'm sure he deleted my number.  Can we talk about anyone else?"  

"Yes, what's the schedule on the book tour? How long will you be gone?" Sophie acts trying to defuse the irritation in your voice with the mention of your ex.  

You can tell by the way she's glancing at her husband that she's trying to figure out why he brought up your ex knowing full well that if he had contacted you, she would have been the first one to know about it.. 

"Oh I'm flying out next Sunday, heading for NYC, then I'll be in Boston for 2 days, then a day In Philly, a day in Baltimore and I'm not 100% of the cities after that, other than ending up the following week in Miami so I can be with the family for spring break" you mention to them. 

"Did I hear you say you are only going to Boston for 2 days, that's not nearly long enough" you hear a deep voice state as you look up and see Chris Evan's standing next to Seb and walking closer to you.  

Holding out his hand "I'm Chris, I don't think we've met" he states.  

You plaster the most sincere smile you can on your face in hopes of not drooling at the sight of him, shaking his hand "I'm Y/N, and yes, this tour is only 2 days in Boston, but I lived there for 5 years so I’ve seen quite a bit already” you respond.

“Huh?  For someone who’s cold all the time, you seem to wind up in colder climates” Seb laughs at you.  “Shut up! You are the worst!” you respond with a laugh.  

“It’s true though, darling.  And you always call me to complain about it!” Sophie responds with a smirk.  

“OK, in my defense, Boston was a needed escape from my family, whom I love dearly but can be quite suffocating at times.  Then Chicago was my first real job after graduation and I couldn’t pass that up!  And as my best friend, Phie, you are required to listen to all my complaining, regardless of the topic” you state matter of factly.  

“And last year in Vancouver, that was the worst yet, she would send me photos of eyelashes with ice crystals on them” Sophie laughs remembering your first winter in Canada and how miserable you were.  

“That was awful and you and Benny both ridiculed me, I’m still emotionally scared”  

“So, you don’t like the cold but keep torturing yourself?” Chris asks with a smirk.  

“It appears I do, but it’s always for good reason. Chicago was an opportunity I couldn’t resist, if I had taken that job, I probably wouldn't have published my first novel” you explain with fondness.  

“That’s not true, Y/N.  Your first novel was incredible and it would have been published eventually”  Ben states as he takes your empty glass.  

“Benedict has read my book?” you asked Sophie completely shocked.  

“He has read all of your novels, but I think the first 3 was trying to find juicy gossip on how we met or something to try and blackmail you later, I’m not quite sure” she responds with a shrug.   

“Hold on” Seb interjects “your book, Searching for more, is about Sophie?” 

“Yes, and no” you respond “the adventure that Annabell has is loosely based on my summer after high school before moving to Boston.  And her new found friend, Fiona, is Sophie to a T!  And I’m also shocked that you’ve read it” you eyed him suspiciously.  

“Ok, so you really married a French man when you were 18 and brought him back with you?”  Seb asks, completely disregarding that you questioned him about reading the book.  How did your day turn out like this?  This was the most surreal moment you have had in a long time.  

“No, he wasn’t French, he was Belgian!” Benedict responds as he comes back in with refills.  You start laughing when you see the way Chris and Seb are staring at you wide eyed.   

“Oh my gosh!  No, I didn’t get married when I was 18.  And Benny, you weren't there, you don’t know anything” shaking your head.  “Annabelle’s story is loosely based on events that occurred, we didn’t get married…..and he was Swiss, I think.” you snicker when you look over at Sophie for confirmation, she shrugs and takes a drink.    

The five of you continue to chat for another hour or so when you feel a tap on your shoulder.  You turn to see Kit smiling at you with a cup in his hand “I missed you” he states as he climbs up into your lap and hugs you around your neck.  

“I missed you too little man, do anything fun while you were upstairs?” you asked as he made himself more comfortable.  

“I didn’t know you had a kid” Seb says as you are trying to balance the 5 year old in your lap with your drink in your hand.  

Kit looks up at him “she’s not my mum, she’s my girl!  That’s my mum” he states as he points to Sophie.  

“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Seb, this is my friend Chris.  What’s your name?”  he asks while Kit plops himself in the middle of the group as though he should have been there all along.  

“I’m Kit” he states as he extends his hand to both Chris and Sebastian.  

“So, she’s your girl, huh?” Chris asks with a smirk “is it serious?”  

“Very!  He gave me a ring today, see.” showing Chris your right hand and the Wonder Woman ring. 

“Wait a minute, the wedding is cancelled, but you still gave her a ring? I’m not sure that’s how it works buddy”  Robert kneels down talking to Kit.  

“it’s ok, I get to love her forever and we can get married when I’m 30!” Kit explains as he rushes off to join the other kids.  

You all turn and look at Sophie “I thought you fixed it Phie!  You’ve just given him a deadline!" you gasp. 

She smiles at you with a guilty look on her face "I think you might need to grab a bite to eat before you have another drink. And honestly, I'm sure he will forget all about this in a few months. Besides, I won't let my 30 year old son marry some 60 something year old hag that's after him for his money!" she states as seriously as possible. 

You deadpan "thanks for that. I need a new best friend" you roll your eyes and head towards the food. 

"Well, I didn't see that coming" Robert chuckles as he watches the two of you walk out of the room. 

"That actually went better than I expected" Ben responds and shakes his head, "those two are worse than siblings." 

A/N: I had an idea of who the ex is, but I may just leave it open for interpretation, he does come into the story later, but can remain faceless

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Please Me: Futakuchi's Fun

Kenji Futakuchi x dom fem reader

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ MINORS DNI ⚠️

Welcome to week 2 of the Please Me Series!  A collaboration with @axoxtxhxh!  First up, we have femdom wins featuring Futakuchi and Asahi!  Please check out Joey’s fic, Asahi's Awakening!  I will link it in the please me master list!  

Please Me Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, unwanted touching, dirty talk, public sex, fingering, male and female oral, hand jobs, pet names, switch Kenji, switch leaning dom reader, cum play

Word count: 5,200

"Jas really? Another date?” you sigh as your life long friend tries desperately to convince you this is a good idea.

“Y/N, I promise.  This one is right up your-” your loud friend starts to say as you cut her off almost immediately.  

“You said that about guys 4 and 5.  So what makes you think 6 is going to be so special?” You smirk at her questioningly.

You knew your friend meant well, unfortunately after the 3rd date she had set you up on, you realized her taste in men weren’t anywhere close to yours.

“Y/N I promise, if this one doesn’t work out, I'll stop setting you up on dates. Ok?” Jas speaks as she cautiously awaits your response.

“I remember a similar conversation after the magician, Jas” you say as your eyes narrowed.

“But this one I know personally!  My boyfriend works with him and actually went to school with him.  He’s been single for a while but I finally convinced him to meet with you!” she said enthusiastically.

“I tried to stop her” Her boyfriend interjected “but you know how she gets about this Y/N.”

“Oh hush now!  Kenji is a great guy.  A little rough around the edges but super nice” Jas says as she slow turns away from you.

“Oh god” you say as you bury your face in your palms.

“To be fair YN, he has changed since high school.  He was captain of the Volleyball team so he kind of transitioned from being the huge dick he use to be” Jas’s boyfriend says as he walks from their apartment kitchen.

“oh nice, a former jock whose still living in high school. Sign me up” you say as you sarcastically throw your hands up in the air.

“YN he still plays volleyball so he’s not a former jock, he still is one.  Besides he really doesn’t seem at all like his teammates described him” Jas shurgs “plus I have to you two meeting at a bar and grill so if anything there’s booze.”

“Oh a perk to this date?” you say sarcastically as Jas smacks your arm.

“See? This is exactly why she will get along with Kenji great” Jas yells to her boyfriend who only laughs.

You roll your eyes and think to yourself.

I guess one date wont be so bad.

The night of your date approaches quickly, much to your dismay.  You opt to wear a simple, mid thigh length black dress and your black leather jacket.  You stare at your heels and opt for flats instead.

“Honestly I don’t know anything about this guy so flats is probably a good option” you say as you slip on your shoes and descend to the street below.

You arrive at the bar/grill and check you’re phone. Jas texted you telling you Kenji was there and waiting for you at the bar.  You sighed as you walked in, heading towards the bar.  

Suddenly you felt a hand grab up your dress as you turn around to see a man standing uncomfortably close to you.

“excuse me? What do you think your doing?” you shout as the man puts up both hands

A tall figure at the bar witnessed the whole ordeal and begins walking up to you.

Suddenly the tall man stops as he hears a loud SLAP echo through the place.  

There you stand toe to toe with the man who groped you as you grab him by the neck, pulling him towards the door.

The tall figure watched in wonder as you disposed of the man outside the restaurant.

“Oh my god ma’am! Are you ok? We saw that man assault you!” the hostess said as she ran up to you concerned.

“Oh gosh I’m fine.  Just another low life.  But I’m afraid I may have broken the pervs nose when I tossed him out. My apologies” you say as you fix your dress, picking up your bag and proceeding to the bar.

The tall figure followed your form as you sat down, almost forgetting the reason you were there.

“Any beer please” you say as the bartender serves you quickly.  While you handled the situation well, your adrenalin was kicking in and you needed to calm down.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Y/N would you?” a tall, good looking man said as he approached you.

“I mean if you are the police, then no” you say as you turn to take another drink

“Do I look like a cop?” He says as he smirks

“Nah you’re too good looking.  Yeah I’m Y/N” you say as you smirk

“Kenji, I’d say it’s a pleasure but I’m kind of nervous after what you just did to that guy.  You handled yourself well” he said as he sat down next to you.  

“Well as long as you don’t grope me, we wont have an issue” you nod sideways to him

“Not unless you want me too” he says cockily

“oh right out the gate. You're a brave one aren’t ya?” you say giggling at his forwardness.

“Well at least I can say I tried” he says “how about we grab a table?”

You get up from you spot on the bar to move to a more intimate table in the back of the restaurant.  The night continues and honestly, you are enjoying yourself.  Sure Kenji was cocky and full of himself but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.  Plus the man could take a joke which provided you both with good banter all night. You both finish off your final beer as you stand up.

“well shit I knew coming to a bar/grill wouldn’t be the best idea” you giggle as you stumble a bit.  Kenji chuckled as he held on to your arm.  

“For as hard as you fight, you sure are a lightweight” he laughs as he grabs your waist “lets get you home.”

He walks you to your apartment as you lean on him for support.  It's not like you drank a lot but you imagine that the drama from earlier caused you to consume your drinks a little faster than you were use to.  

“welcome to my humble abode” you scream as you throw your hands up as Kenji sets you keys on the counter and removes his shoes.  

You sit on the couch as you motion for him to join you.  He sits besides you.

“20 questions, lightening round and GO!” you screech.

“ok but you start champ” He says.

“Why are you single?” you starting off strong.

“damn right out of the gate.  ok well my ex and I had a mutual break up 6 months ago.  I don’t see her or speak to her anymore” he says.

“far enough” you say smiling “hit me.”

“why did you agree to let Jas set you up with me?” He says

“oh GOD!  she’s been trying to set me up with someone for months now.  you are number 6 but I will say you’ve made it further than any other guys” you say

“far enough" he says

“top or bottom?” you say nonchalantly

“Jesus YN!” Kenji laughs as he fakes an offended look

“What?  It can tell you a lot about a person” You say

“Fine.  I’m actually more of a dom top” he says shrugging  

“Well shit” you laugh

“What? Are you a bottom?” he says questioningly

“ah ah you have to ask me a different question” you smirk

“Fine. What’s your favorite postion”

“Easy, cowgirl” you spit “what kind of dom are you?”

“I feel like we are grazing over the ‘cowgirl’ comment Y/N” Kenji laughs as you lay back putting you feet on his lap as if he was an old friend or a lover.

“what I like to top!  gives me more control.” you shrug

“Ah so you like control?” he asks

“Yes and you ignored my question” you say

“mostly a service and pleasure dom.  But I also like control” he says

“haha most men say that and let me tell you, it’s a major let down” you laugh

“oh really now?” he questions  

“I’ve slept with more ‘doms’ than I care of even mention” you say as you quote the air “most men don’t even know how to please a women let alone know to service one.”

“well you sound pretty knowledgeable on that Y/N” Kenji smirks as he leans back softly stroking your legs

“Kenji, I’ve slept with dozens of men and when I say I can rip orgasms from them with ease, I’m not exaggerating” you say smugly

“oh is that so” Kenji says as he leans closer to you “ok then how about a little bet?”

“bet? The fuck for?” you say confusingly  

“ok well you are basically saying you can out Dom me correct?” he says smugly

“you got it chief" you smirk, putting up cutesy annoying finger guns.  Kenji laughed at your gesture.  

“ok then lets do this.  We each plan a date and end the night fucking.  Whomever gets the highest rating wins” he says as he tilts his head slightly to the side

“interesting” you say as you sit up “ok so lets say I agree.  How do we judge?  I mean what if you give me a bad rating just to win.”  

“Listen Y/N I’m sure you can tell this but I’m a pretty honest person.  If I’m not getting pleasure, you’ll know it” he says  

“Ok so we just rate each other on what? The date and the sex?” you say.

“well how about the sex is the most points and the date is just extra” he says as he winks “because outside of sex, I’d really like to see you again”

You smile, kneeling on the couch close to him.  

“Fine but we are not starting tonight.  No sex until our next date” you say as you narrow your eyes.

“You’re drunk Y/N. I would never” he says putting his hands up.

“Well alright then how about  next Friday night you start since this was your suggestion” you say extending your hand.

Kenji grabs your hand pulling you towards him as your lip meet his in a sweet, heated but short kiss.  You pull away with a smile.

“Its a bet” Kenji says with a smile.  

The following week came fast.  You and Kenji texted often during the week.  It wasn’t like you were nervous for your date or what was to follow.  You were confident in yourself and your skills as a more dominant person.  However this was something new for you and sometimes new is scary.

“You ready Doll” Kenji says as you greet him at the front entrance of your apartment complex.  

“Ready as Ill ever be” You smile softly as he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers with him.

“Starting off strong I see” you say as you lift your hands to show him what he already knew.

“Nah, it just felt right” He smiled as you blushed lightly

“Alright so where to?” you question

“It’s a surprise doll.  Trying to get the extra points where I can” he says as he smirks as you and you blush at the pet name

You walk down the street and arrive at a small pizzeria.  It looked very intimate and hidden in plan sight.  Honestly you were surprised you had never noticed it before.

“I’ve never seen this place before” you smile as he holds the door for you to enter.  

“That’s why I like it.  Its small and out of the way” He smiles as he places his hand on your lower back guiding you to a intimate table in the back corner.

Dinner goes as planned as you enjoy some of the best pizza you have ever had in your entire life.  You smile as Kenji pays and you head to your next location.

“An arcade?” you laugh as Kenji just shrugs.  

“You seems like a competitive person but a fun competitive not a serious one” He smiles as he pulls you into the arcade.

You play games and laugh for what seems like hours before you decide its time to move on to more “serious” matters.

“That was so much fun Kenji” you say as he pulls you down a secluded alley and begins kissing you feverously.

“Is this where you kill me” You giggle when he moves down your neck trying to find your sweet spot.

“Nah doll this is where I fuck you” he says as he discovers you sweet spot pulling a moan from you.  He feels incredible pressed up against your heated core. You can feel his cock harden on your thigh.

“Kenji ah” You moan as his hands travel up your dress, groping your ass “here? Wont people see?”

He breaks away from you neck kissing your collarbone “its worth the risk doll.  Plus I cant wait any longer to be inside you.” He kisses you grind your core into his thigh.

You moan as he assaults you collarbone,  your hands traveling up his shirt as he pushes you against the brick wall, caging you in making you feel oddly secure and comforted.

“Fuck doll- your skin is so soft, I bet your cunt is soft too. Shall we take a look?” He says as he inserts his knee between your thighs opening them up and snaking his hand down your panties.  His hands are rough, surely from his job and all those years of Volleyball.  You can feel the excitement radiate off of him as he closes in on your core.

You can feel how wet you are as you both groan as he reaches you clit. His rough fingers providing the perfect stimulation for your needy cunt.

“Shit baby, I’d say you are pretty turned on from public sex huh?” he says as he whispers into your neck as he begins to rub circles into your hardened clit.

“Ahh Kenji- please I need you” you moan as he starts to pry to fingers into you sopping wet cunt.  His hands feel incredible.  Even with your body count as high as it is, you’ve never had anyone make you feel so amazing.  

“Oh fuck doll, damn you are tight.  We need to lose this pussy up, I don’t want to hurt you” He says as he inserts to of his long fingers into your cunt as you brace yourself on the brick wall. You can feel every inch of his long, sturdy fingers probe your wet insides. The feels is unreal. You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

Your head falls back as he reaches your sensitive spot.  He pumps his fingers into your cunt as he curls them to reach the spot that made your vision darken. You can’t contain yourself any longer, his fingers feel utterly incredible.  

“Come on baby, cum for me please. Then I’ll fuck you good ok” He begs as he kisses your neck. God this man knows just what to say.

“Kenji please I’m so close- ah right there Kenji!” you moan as your head falls back and he pumps his fingers faster.  You feel the cord in your stomach soap instantly.. You cum with a gush as Kenji smiles, pulling his fingers you and offering them to you.  You accept taking them into your mouth as you suck pulling a deep groan from your partner.  You could feel the wetness from your release seeping down your plush thighs as you slowly descended from your high.

“You’re turn” you smile as you reach for his belt.  You couldn’t wait to get your hands on Kenji's hardened cock.

He grabs your hands, stopping you as he pins them above your head with one hand and pulls you in by your waist with another. Your eyes widen with lust as he speaks.

“ah ah doll, I believe its my week to pleasure you” He smiles as he kisses you roughly, tasting the your essence on your lips.  His lips feel incredible.

“fuck I’m going to have to eat this pussy properly later” he groans as he quickly undoes his belt and pants, moving his boxers down.  You knew he was a bit larger than average sized and definitely thicker.  The thought of his cock filling you up made you whimper.  

“But for right now, I’m going to pump this pussy full of my cum.  you want that doll?” he groans into your neck as he pumps his cocks, picks you up and lines you up for him.  You felt the pressure of his tip push hardly against your tight opening.

You had already discussed contraceptives prior to your activities.  You were on birth control and both of you had been tested.  You wanted to keep the play field level so you decided to forgo the condoms.

“holy-” Kenji groans as he pushes into your wet cunt “God baby this is the tightest pussy I’ve ever been in.” You moan as you wince from both pleasure and pain.  

You’re jaw slacks you feel him enter you.  You have never felt so full.  His cock hit every single area of your cunt so perfectly .

“Fuck baby can you relax a little” he says as he tries to adjust you.  

God you are tight he thought to himself.  If he had any less control he would have busted inside immediately.

You cant relax.  He feels so good and the semi public sex is turning you on something fierce.  You can fell your cunt spasm around him as he starts to gently push in and out of you.  You feel like your already close to your release and you barely started!  

He groans as his pace increases and he lifts up your dress further exposing your pussy to him.  He growls as he watches his cock plunge in and out of your tight, wet cunt.  The feeling is unimaginable.

He leans you further back on the wall so he can snake his hand to your clit.  He watches in wonder as he rubs your clit and your mouth slacks open.

You cant even moan.  There is no sound coming from your mouth.  You are utterly mute.  You feel so unbelievably incredible.  

“Ken- fuck I’m going to cum please go faster!” you manage to choke out barely. You aren’t sure you can handle faster but you really want this orgasm.

“As you wish baby” He says pulling his hand from you clit and jackhammering into you at an unbelievable speed.  His hands on your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist.  

“Oh fuck Kenji! I- I" you cant even form words.  This angle, this speed is causing your body to act on its own.  You feel a weird gush of liquid stem from your core as you try to regain control of your thoughts.

“oh shit baby did you just squirt?” he says as he looks at you and his jaw falls open at the feeling.  

He’s never had sex that felt this amazing before.  This angle, this view was everything.  And by your reaction, you seemed to be enjoying it as well.

“Fuck that the was the hottest thing ever baby! Shit- I’m going to cum” he chokes as you finally manage a soft moan and nod as you feel the pressure from your orgasm still present.  God you don’t even want this to end.  This feeling was absolute bliss.

“shit shit baby-FUCK" He says as he stalls into your cunt pushing hard into you as your cunt gladly accepts him.  

You can feel his cum shoot deep inside as you feel your pussy spasm against his cock.

He lays his head in your neck as he catches his breath and you pet his hair smiling, coming down from both of your highs.  It was incredible.

He pulls back gently as he rubs your thighs and hips.  He places his forehead against yours as he looks deep into your blown out pupils.

“Ok well that was the best sex I’ve ever had” he smiles as he kisses you deeply

“Best sex... for now” you giggle as he smiles kissing you again.

He takes out a handkerchief, cleaning you up as you fix your dress and he puts himself back in his jeans.  

“Oh baby the night isn’t over yet” He smiles as he grabs your hand leading you out of the alley and down the street to his apartment.

A whole week had passed since your last “date” date with Kenji.  Honestly it was more of a fuck fest, if you had to label it.  You aren’t sure how you even managed to walk up to your apartment without falling.  It took you 3 whole days to recover.

The sex had been mind-blowing.  Honestly you were scared you wouldn’t be able to top it but you refused to go down without a fight.

This week was your date and you had the perfect plan.

“Alright doll, I’m ready” Kenji says as he leans in to kiss you at your door.

“Ok come in” you say moving to the side allowing him to enter.

“Wait here?” he smiles as he comes in removing his jacket and shoes.

“Yes sir” as you turn around.  You opted to wear an oversized shirt and some thigh highs.  You had a plan and it involves comfort.

“A little underdressed aren’t you doll” Kenji smiles as he sees your shirt lift up revealing your lush ass below.

Kenji bite his lip as he makes his way closer to you attempting to feel up your shirt as he kisses your neck.  You drove him utterly insane wearing that outfit.  

“ah ah ah Kenji” you say as you back into the cabinet “I’m in charge tonight sweetheart” you say as you shake your finger in front of his face.

“ok fine” he says throwing his hands up in defeat as he makes his way to the living room.  Hoping some distance will cool him off a little.  

You had ordered in sushi and had a bottle of wine waiting.  You made your way over to the coach, expertly bending over revealing more skin with each reach.

“I’m beginning to think your goal is torture” he says as he watches you bend over.  He desires to feel your soft skin so badly.

“me?” you say sarcastically “I wouldn’t dare.”

You eat, talk and drink as you laugh about your week and discuss your impending night.  Kenji reaches over testing the waters as he begins laying light kisses on your cheeks, necks and collar bone.

“You know doll, it was torture for me to wait an entire week to fuck you again” he smiles as you kiss him deeply pushing him back on the couch.

“I actually debated just forfeiting” He laughs as you straddle him.

“Awe Kenji hooked on my sweet pussy already?” you say as you start to slowly grind on him.  Maybe torture was part of your plan?!

“fuck- yes baby. Shit you feel so good” He groans as you apply more pressure to your grinding  

“Well I mean, you wont have to worry about forfeiting after I win” you say as he pulls you harder into to his hardening member as you throw your head back in ecstasy.  

It honestly was torture for you to wait as well. You were in agony by Wednesday.  As hard as you tried, you couldn’t get yourself off. You had been completely ruined by the mind-numbing sex.

“Fuck baby you going to show me how to Dom or what” he smiles at you as he watches you lift your shirt, seeing the growing wet patch in your panties forming.  He groans wanting go feel and taste your wet pussy.

“Patience sweetheart” you say as you grind faster into his cock pulling grunts and groans from him left and right.

“Shit baby you’re going to make me cum if you don’t hurry up and fuck me” he says as he can feel his release building

“Who said anything about you being inside of me Kenji?  I’m running this show” you say as you stop grinding and move yourself down between his legs undoing his jeans as he watches you.  

The way you shimmy down his legs towards his crotch has him losing his mind.  He had felt your mouth the weekend prior and knew just how skilled you were with it. He could barely last the way you had taken his thick cock down your throat.

He watches you place licks on his hardened cock as his mouth falls slack and his eyes rolls back.  You adjust your positioning as you continue to suck on his cock, slowly removing your panties and you start to rub your engorged clit.

You were getting so turned on from pulling all the pleasure you could from Kenji.  The way his face contorted in pleasure could make you orgasm on the spot.  

“sit on my face baby please” Kenji says as you continue to suck and lick on his cock.  You stop your motions and look up at him.  

Oh shit don’t stop please he thinks to himself.

“Kenji no” you say sternly as you begin to suck harder and move your fingers around your clit faster.  Tonight was about Kenji and after last weekend, you had a lot of making up to do.  

You feel your approach as you switch to stroking Kenji’s cock as you continue to pleasure yourself.  

Watching you masturbate while you stroked his cock was too much. God you looked like an absolute goddess.

“Baby fuck- I’m going to cum. Please cum with me. I- I want to see you cum as you jerk me off” Kenji groans as he starts thrusting up into your hands as your fingers increase in speed.  You are so close.  

“Oh fuck Kenji, I’m going to cum, cum with me please” You say as your throw your head back in a scream as Kenji releases all over your hand and his stomach and you feel your cunt spasm around nothing.  

“fuck baby you are really something else” Kenji says as he pants heavily coming down from his releases.

You really were.  Never in his life had he been so turned on by a partner.  You made sex fun and interesting and it drove him nuts.  

You stick your fingers in his mouth as you slowly lean down to lick up the cum on his stomach and off his member. He groans as he feels your wet tongue hit his hardened abs and sensitive cock.

Locking eyes with him as you clean up his mess, he pulls his lip between his teeth.  The feeling is too good.  

You stand up as you remove your shirt from your body, revealing you naked form.

“oh fuck angel” Kenji says as he starts to harden immediately at the sight.  God your body was perfect.  Plush in all the right ways and absolutely stunning.  

You remove his pants and boxers as you straddle his waist.  He’s built, no doubt from his job and volleyball.  He’s so pretty.  

You lean down to kiss him deeply, as you force your tongue into his mouth, all while grinding on his hardened cock with your wet pussy.  He groans as you move down his jaw as he pulls your hips faster against his cock.  

You separate as you look down at him, completely blissed out from you grinding against his member. His length feels so good tickling your clit with pleasure.  

You tug as his shirt as you help him pull it over his head, revealing his hardened form.  

You move your mouth his  chest as you suck on his nipples, licking lightly in between them as you move from one to another.

“Fuck baby are you trying to make me cum again” He grunts as you increase your pace.  You want to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

Suddenly, without warning you sink your soaking cunt onto his hardened member pulling a choking grunt from the man below you as his hands dig harshly into your hips.

 Fuck your cunt felt fantastic. Kenji would definitely chose to live in it if he could.  So soft and warm and oh so tight.  

“Are you trying to kill me?” He says as you begin bouncing on him as he tries to control his grunts.  

Fuck- this girl really is trying to kill me.  I’m not going to last.  Focus Kenji he thinks to himself as he tries to regain composure over his body.  

“Death by pussy sounds like a nice way to go” You say as your throw your head back in pleasure.  Unbeknownst to him, you feel just as incredible as he does.  His cock fit your pussy so perfectly.  

He groans as you moan from the friction of his hardened cock.  You speed up as you approach your high.  You can tell Kenji's close because he starts meeting your bouncing with harsh thrust.  

Fuck, he’s going to lose it.  You feel fucking incredible.  The way your pussy sinks down on his cock, taking him in so deeply has him going wild.  He wants to, no needs to fuck you!  

“Fuck doll- you win, you win please just let me fuck you” he groans as you can sense the pain in his voice.  You got what you wanted.  

“Fuck me Kenji.  Pound into your cunt” you moan as he begins to thrust up into your cunt at an unimaginable pace.  

His pace was much faster now than in the alleyway.  You were sure your cervix was going to be bruised tomorrow.  

“Holy fuck baby!  Mine, mine, mine, all mine!” He groans as you scream from the pressure.  This was it.

“Kenji fuck” you says as you feel your cunt spasm from you harsh orgasm that slammed straight into you head on.  

“FUCK FUCK BABY” he groans as he stalls inside you as his mouth falls open and he presses into your pelvis harder.  You grind on him as he pulls you in deeper as his groans slowly start to fade and you both ride out your intense orgasms.  

He’s panting as you breath heavily on top of him, stroking his chest and adjusting his hair from his face.

He moves your hair to the side as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“You win doll you win” he pants heavily with a huge smile on his face.  

“Good and I want my prize right now” you say as you situated yourself still on his cock.  

“Which would be?” he says as he rubs small circles into your thighs.  He isn’t sure what you want but after that last fuck session he’s willing to give you anything.  

“Can we keep doing this?” you say shyly as a smile grows on his face.

“Well, I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend if I won so I would say fuck yes we can keep doing this” He says as he grabs you, standing up quickly running to your room and throwing you on the bed.

“Next, let’s see how long we can fuck before one of us orgasms?” He smiles as he kisses down your neck.

“It's a bet” you say moaning into a smile.  

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