#my hurt and pain but if that doesn’t move her than at least i said something right? it just succs bc i don’t use the term best friend let

[webslingingslasher]

Begin Again

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

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

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

Word Count: 24K

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

Breakups suck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you have a lighter?” 

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

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

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

A supercut of every moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort, “for breaking my heart?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Six weeks, starting today.” 

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

“Six weeks.” 

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

WEEK ONE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleepy?” 

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

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

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

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

“Do me a favor?” 

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

“Make sure he gets home for me.” 

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

The birds were screaming the earth back awake. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I think… I think I’m doing okay.” 

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

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

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

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

“Noon thirty.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever-” 

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

“Who’s-” 

“Did you-” 

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

“What do you want, penis?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that Peter B. Parker?” 

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

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

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

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

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

She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever. 

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

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

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

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

Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good. 

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

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

Deny till death. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natalie Greene knows three things to be true. 

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

“What if you talked to him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK TWO.

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

“How are you doing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was it. 

This was your worst nightmare. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I, um, I still have those cookies?” 

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

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

Tonight, you were full of surprises. 

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

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

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

You do a double take, five months? 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Harder,” you test it. 

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

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

“Harder, don’t be so weak!”

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

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

“Fucking!” 

“Piece!”

“Of!”

“Shit!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re looking at me funny.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, you find yourself agreeing. 

“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK THREE.

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

“Let’s fuck some shit up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered. 

“Hi, May. Is Peter home?” 

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t think you could ever love again. 

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

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

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

Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock. 

“I’m sure.” Because, you really are. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would send you things he found funny. 

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

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

‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’ 

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

“Have fun on the trip!” 

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

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

“Hi.” 

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

“Okay, okay, so what did she say?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a good thing?” 

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

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

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

“And very nice curls.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are you doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, wow!” 

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

Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!  

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

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

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

Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-

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

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

“Are you gonna hide from me forever?” 

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

He’s perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk. 

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

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

“Butter, please?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? I thought after-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scars don’t.” 

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

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

“They do.” 

WEEK FOUR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re in denial.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

How long has he liked you? 

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

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

“But was it worth it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t is a funny word choice.” 

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

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

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

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

“Break up with me.” 

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

A laugh, “then break up with me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you see where I’m sitting?” 

Peter nods, “I do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has a very fair point. 

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

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

“How do you know I don’t want this?” 

“Because this isn’t you.” 

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

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

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

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

“You mean when you had a boyfriend?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would it feel like an agonizing death? 

Would your wings ever be patchable again? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Peter’s fault. 

“Because you made me want to.” 

WEEK FIVE. 

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

“Good morning.” 

You nod your head, “penis.” 

And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed. 

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

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

3:02, you hear his window. 

3:04, your eyes finally get heavy. 

3:07, you’re dozing off. 

3:10, you’re asleep. 

It wasn’t fair. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peter.” You need his focus on you.

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

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

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

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

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

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

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

“You passed out on me last night.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfect, coming right up.” 

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

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

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

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

“Does it hurt?” 

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

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

“Guess we’re twinsies now.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” 

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

“Sure. Go shopping for me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WEEK SIX.

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

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

You think you broke him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, when she puts it like that… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he stumbled up the steps. 

When he hit his head with his locker.

When he stepped on his glasses. 

When he was tackled in flag football. 

When he tripped over his shoelace. 

When he got glue in his hair. 

When he winced while dissecting a frog. 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s worth it. 

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

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

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

Step two: See above. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this an asshole move? Yes. 

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

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

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

You hear something drop inside his apartment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?” 

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

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

“Did you just call me a normy?” 

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

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

But it’s all in the timing. 

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

“Miserable? What, about the breakup?” 

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

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

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

You’re in love with Peter and only Peter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still like me?” 

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

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

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

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

“Can you call me sweetheart?” 

“Is that the one you like?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

It’s so much sweeter than you imagined. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said I was never properly loved.” 

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

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

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

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

“If you’d be my boyfriend.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies. 

Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies. 

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

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

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

“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.” 

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

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

“I don’t hate you anymore.” 

“Spoiler alert, you never did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

And you watched love begin again. 

“Anything for you, girlfriend.” 

----

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

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

[lulunothulu]

“Just hold me”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your husband has been away a little too long for his liking. So when he comes home, he’s a lot more emotional than he thought he’d be.

Content: FLUFF, sad Jakey, anxiety

Everyone thank @hunterthecharmer 💗🫶🏼 pic is there bc he looks so cute

Jake knew what he wanted when he finally got off the damn plane.

You. Specifically, to hold you.

He’d been deployed for a mission for the past four months and while it wasn’t as long as his other deployments, these past four months felt longer.

He’d spent the last four months missing you. Missing your scent, the feel of your soft skin on his fingertips, your lips.

So when he finally landed and reached your guy’s house to find that you weren’t home, his whole body felt the disappointment.

He falls to the floor, pain coursing throughout his chest and down his stomach. He could’ve sworn you said you’d be home when he got back.

His plane was on time. While he did tell you he didn’t need you to come get him since his truck was parked in the airfield parking lot, he was still hurt you weren’t there.

It wasn’t even the fact that you weren’t home—actually it was. He expected you to be home and now that you weren’t, he felt like he’d have to wait however long it took you to get back home.

I just need her. I need her in my arms. I need—

He started to breathe, at least he thought he was. It wasn’t until he felt his chest moving too fast that he realized he was having a panic attack.

She should be here. Why isn’t she here?

The tears come at that point. He’s a shaking, crying mess at the foot of the stairs he barely had time to crawl to before the attack started. He squeezes his eyes shut, drowning out everything around him.

Just breathe. Just—oh god.

He tries to count to ten slowly, trying to get his breathing back to normal but it doesn’t work. Tapping his chest at an even pace wasn’t helping either.

The sound of the front door opening didn’t even register in his brain until he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders and thumbs caress his cheeks.

“Baby? Jake?” Your voice was faint, too far away.

“Baby I need you to breathe,” you continue. “Jake, focus on my voice. I’m right here. Come back to me.”

Jake’s eyes flutter open, barely opening enough to see your sweet face before him. Worry and panic fill your eyes and he can’t help but reach up for your cheek.

“Hi darlin’,” he hiccups. “I can’t—I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” you coo. “I’m here. Just breathe. Just hold me.”

Jake’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you onto his lap before hurrying his face into her neck and breathing your scent in.

He’d missed you. God, when was the last time he’d had a panic attack? And all because you weren’t home? No, it was more than that. He’d been away from you too long. You were his safe space.

His home.

“What happened?” You asked.

“You weren’t home and I just—” He takes a shuddering breath before continuing, “I panicked. I don’t know why. I expected you to be home but when you weren’t…well, you know.”

“I’m sorry baby,” you tell him. “I thought I had more time. I was getting some groceries to make you your favorite dinner and I lost track of time.”

Jake only squeezes you closer to him. “It’s okay, you’re here now.”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

“But the groceries,” he starts.

“They can wait, just hold me.”

You feel him smile into your neck before you feel his lips. “Thank you.”

[headkiss]

hi hi there! Newcomer to your blog here, and I just wanna say that I love love love your writing sm, it makes me warm and happy and I wanna consume it like good soup. I saw that you’re looking for Spencer requests (my beautiful beloved baby) and I was wondering if I could just request a classic friends to lovers where the reader is a member of the team, and gets hurt on a case and that’s what makes Spencer realize? Any format you’d like. This might be a bit tmi but I just got broken up with and honestly fictional men are the only thing getting me through this rn, and seeing you were taking requests was just straight up happiness. Thank you!

this is so sweet what if i cry :,) i hope this helps you at least a little bit (especially since this has been sitting in my drafts for a MINUTE) <3 you will get through this my love (spencer thinks so too!) | 0.7k words!! my first spencer fic so bare with me 😅 tw mention of a knife and a small injury !

You’re no stranger to taking risks. Nobody at the BAU is. It’s practically written into your job descriptions. Split-second decisions, no room for mistakes.

Only, usually they seem to pay off. Mostly. This time, you aren’t so lucky.

After three days of profiling and trying to catch this unsub, of new victims and suspects and secrets uncovered by Garcia, you’ve finally found him. Apprehending an unsub seems to either be the easiest or toughest part of a case.

This time around, it’s the latter. He’s stubborn, and smarter than you’d like to admit, and when you think you’ve got an opening, the upper hand, that one wrong move proves you wrong.

It’s so quick, the way he grabs your wrist and twists your arm behind your back harshly, a pained groan escaping your mouth before you can suppress it. The way the team all springs into action quickly, talking to him calmly, Hotch at the forefront.

And the look on Spencer’s face. The pleading in his eyes that he can’t seem to control.

He’s who you look to first. Who you keep looking at, because you think if anyone could keep you calm in this moment, if anyone could make you believe you’ll be okay, it’s him.

There’s a knife held to your neck, a cruel grip on your arm, and still, you look at Spencer.

“I won’t cut her if you let me go,” the unsub says. You squeeze your eyes shut before blinking them back open.

You know Hotch has a plan, and if he doesn’t, then Emily does, and so on. They’re all incredible, and there’s not a part of you that thinks they won’t get you out of this, but your heart still pounds, your stomach still twists in fear.

“Go ahead,” Hotch says.

“Hotch-” Spencer’s voice is quiet but sharp. He trusts Aaron, he always has, but you aren’t something he wants to gamble.

“You won’t get far,” Hotch continues.

You find Spencer’s eye and nod at him, so slight that he’d be the only one to pick up on it, since he’s paying such close attention to you. Under different circumstances, you might feel your heart flutter from it.

Sure enough, Aaron does have a plan, and before you can really process what he’s said or done to get through to him, the unsub lets you go with a harsh push, and the first place you go is into Spencer’s waiting arms.

“Take her outside, Reid, we’ve got this,” Morgan says quickly. Spencer doesn’t fight him on it.

He walks you out with one arm tight around your waist and the other stabilizing your wrist. His hands are far kinder than the ones that had been on you moments ago, and you let him hold some of your weight until you’re settled sitting in the back of one of the ambulances on scene.

Spencer watches them wrap your wrist with a tensor bandage, watches them assure you that it’s just a sprain, that you’re otherwise injury-free. He holds your good hand the entire time. Maybe too tightly.

You both wait until the paramedics are done and have walked away to help somebody else before speaking.

“Well, that was fun,” you say. Your instincts are always to play things down, to hide behind jokes. Still, you let yourself lean your head against Spencer’s shoulder.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. The hand that isn’t holding yours covers your bouncing knee. “I know a lot about odds, and they weren’t in our favor back there.”

“It was mostly my fault, probably. I let him get too close.”

“We arrived seconds later than we should have. That car slowed us down in the intersection on the way, and then the rest was off.” He tells you. Comforting you the way he knows how; with the facts. “Time is what went wrong. Not you. Never you.”

You pick your head up and turn your head to look at him, his hair falling around his ears, his eyes still worried but soft. “Never, huh? I’m gonna remember that.”

Reid squeezes your good hand, his pinky running across your wrist to find your pulse, like he’s making sure you’re really okay. “I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so afraid on the job.”

“Not even when you’re the one being held like that?” you ask.

“No,” he tells you. “Not even then.”

[catch1ngmoths]

Hi my pookie 😏 Can I request a Joost Klein x fem!reader where it's unrequited love, reader likes Joost, and she's about to give up because he doesn't feel the same but something happens to the reader which causes Joost to panic and confess he's always loved her?

⛆ ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU ⛆

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ “So come inside and be with me, alone with me, alone with me, alone. If you would let me give you pinky promise kisses, then I wouldn't have to scream your name atop of every roof in the city of my heart.” -Mitski𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: your in love with Joost and do everything to try and show your love for him but he doesn’t seem to reciprocate your feelings and even gets involved with another girl. Talking about her 24/7 but suddenly you finally boil over and snap at him. Not knowing your standing in the middle of the street….

Note: THIS ONE IS DRAMATIC AS HELL LOL, anyways finally have the energy to finish a fic! I might post another one soon also, hope yall didn’t miss me too much ;)

Warnings: just straight up y/n and Joost hurting and y/n kinda sorta gets hit by a car (ಡ᎔ಡ)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Pain. That’s all this brought you was pain. Being joost’s best friend and loyal companion was the best and worst thing you’ve experienced. Joost was your favorite person, and you were his. But what he didn’t know was how you felt, how you stared at him longingly every chance you could.

How desperately you wanted to snuggle close to him and explain all your feelings to him. But you couldn’t, not when all he talked about was her. Louise. A girl he met and was how infatuated with, or that’s how it seemed in your eyes. He talked about their relationship and how it kept building day by day.

Today was just another day you felt the familiar tug at your heart, “-and then she said she loved my glasses, it was so kind!” Joost says, laying back as his head rests in your lap, eyes looking straight up at the starry sky you both sat under. Your body tenses and you let out a soft sigh but you quickly recover and look down at him with a smile.

“I’m glad she likes your dorky glasses, might be the only one” you say with a teasing snicker, making Joost look up at you with a faux offended stare and a pout. It wasn’t true, you loved his glasses, you always have. But I guess he never payed any mind to your compliments towards the thick black glasses that sat on his face, but he did for her. Funny isn’t it? Your snapped out of your thoughts as Joost speaks, “ha ha, very funny.” He says as he reaches up to pinch your cheek with a small chuckle.

You smile apawn the contact and lean into his touch that’s quickly stolen away as he lowers his hand back down. The warmth leaving your cheek and making your heart clinch and you look up at the stars as well. You could never tell him, you couldn’t ruin this for him.

Little did you know joost wanted nothing more then to sit up and kiss you in that moment, your teasing words and soft smile made his head spin. He was so in love with you but he couldn’t tell you. Not when you were so out of his league, I mean you’re you and he’s…well he’s him. You were way too good for him. He could never tell you, he couldn’t take you when there’s someone out there that was way better looking than him.

So Joost was willing to try and move on, when he saw Louise and noticed how into him she was he took his chance. He wanted you to do the same- well not wanted. He needed you to find someone like he was, someone that was better than him so he could at least try and get over you. He hoped him always bringing Louise up would push you in that direction, he didn’t know it would hurt you the worst you’ve been hurt in your life.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

During present time, were at your breaking point, you couldn’t listen to it anymore. So you snapped, you snapped at Joost when he brought up Louise once more. “We held hands today, she said my hands were very soft and warm?! Can you believe that- my hands are neither sof-“ he’s cut off by an aggravated sigh and he looks up at you immediately.

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he tries to scan your face to get information on what exactly you’re feeling. “Are you done?” You spat aggressively, you didn’t mean to be rude. Truly you didn’t! But you were just so filled with jealousy and envy that you snapped. Joost looks taken aback and stayed silent for a bit before speaking again, “am I done…?” He says in a tone that very stern.

“Yeah, are you done talking about her all the time?!” You replied as you rubbed your temples and stood up from where you were sitting right next to him on his couch. “Uhh…what the hell is your deal?” He says with furrowed eyebrows, starting to become frustrated at your sudden hostility.

“My deal is that you’re always talking about her! I get it, you’re in love with her but I don’t wanna hear it anymore! Okay??” You say as Joost also stands from his spot on the couch, “in love-?! Wha-“ he’s cut off by you again, “always talking about how great she is while I just sit here feeling like a third wheel!” You continue as he scoffs, “okay well I thought you were happy for me!?” He says, both of your voices raising.

“I am!! I’m just tried of hearing about how awesome and smart and beautiful she is!” You reply as you roll your eyes. “Jesus why are you acting like this?!” He says, making you scoff and cross your arms. “Uh what the fuck is that supposed to mean!!? I’m just sick of hearing about it!” You narrow your eyes at him.

You rub them bridge of your nose before you start walking towards his front door, leaving. “I’m just gonna go.” You say coldly making Joost shake his head. “What?! You can’t just leave like this?!” He says as he follows after you hastily. You don’t turn and continue walking, were you being a little dramatic? Sure. But the feelings you’ve bottled up for so long were finally erupting and you weren’t thinking about that.

“Watch me.” You snarl as you walk down the street, you didn’t know where you were going…hell you were staying with Joost for the time being, you just needed space. Joost didn’t understand that, knowing you had nowhere else to go. He didn’t want anything to happen to you so he follow behind you but you picked up the pace.

“Why the hell are you so adamant about this?! What the fuck is your problem” he says as you groan in annoyance and swiftly turn to him, standing in the middle of the empty road. He finally sees your eyes that were filled with tears, some rolling down your cheeks. It broke his heart as his eyes widen.

You laugh bitterly and sarcastically, “what is my problem?!” You raise your voice, “my problem is that you love this girl and you don’t even realize how I feel about you!! How much I love you, but you’re too busy with her to even realize! I’ve tried everything, everything joost! But your too busy with her to ever notice me so I’m don’t trying to get you to notice me!! ”

You weren’t thinking, you were just rambling as you spoke, Joost froze, not that you realized. Your vision was blurry from the tears in your eyes. Something else you failed to realize was the car coming right in your direction. (I know this is so dramatic (ᵕ—ᴗ—) I couldn’t think of anything else to happen to reader! Plus who doesn’t like a little dramatics!)

You both noticed too late, once you noticed the approaching lights you swiftly turned and saw the car speeding towards you. You have no time to react before your eyes widen, you hear your name being screamed and then everything goes black.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Your eyes crack open as you feel blinded by a bright light, you groan and try to sit up but you feel a pair of soft hands wrapping around you. Your breath hitches and eyes widen as you hear soft sobs coming from the person holding you.

Your senses finally come back to you as you see the bright blonde hair that you could recognize anywhere. Your wrap your arms around him as well, “j-Joost..? What happened?” You say weakly, your whole body hurt. But Joost finally stops hugging you, holding your cheeks in his hands as tears roll down his face.

“Your dumbass got hit by a car” he says with a shakey laugh, “god I’m so glad your okay” he finishes as he presses soft kisses to your head, your memory coming back as you groan and burry your face in his chest. A soft chuckle coming from the man in response. He sighs and lifts your chin up, looking deep in your eyes

“I’m not…I’m not talking to Louise anymore.” He says and your heart drops, you did this, you made him stop seeing the “love of his life” Joost immediately notices your widened eyes and shakes his head, “because…I figured out who I’m truly meant to be with.” He says with a soft smile as he presses his forehead to yours

“W-who..?” You say as your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. “How about I show you huh?” He says with a smirk before lowering his head and connecting his lips to yours, you both part with shallow breaths, ““I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t know you thought of me like that, Louise was just a distraction because-“ he pauses and looks away

“Because I was trying to distract myself from how much I love you. God I’m so sorry this is all my fa-“ he’s cut off by your soft voice, “shut up and kiss me again” he smiles before pressing his lips gently back to yours and suddenly, even being in the hospital, everything doesn’t seem so bad..

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

This fic actually sucks ass, I’m sorry for the bad fic lol I promise I’ll try to lock in 🙏🏻🥲

[lidiasloca]

more than this

azriel x reader

chapter seven

summary: after Azriel and reader had a summer together, the last thing Az was expecting was to face her again.

Days passed. Countless days passed. Nothing happened in between them. You woke up, you ate, and you went to sleep. That was it. Emptiness.

Two months ago, thought, it were different. After leaving Helion’s palace, an unbearable pain reigned your heart. You woke up, you cried all day, and you went to sleep. But now you had no more tears left.

Just emptiness.

And constant banging on your head.

Or is it a knock on the door?

Another knock.

Another knock.

You rose from the ground, ungracefully and dizzy. “Go away!” you shout as you walk to the door of the old and poorly lit apartment you had rented. But the knocking doesn’t subside.  

“What do y-” But your words fade as you see the person knocking.

“Hi,” she smiles faintly. “It’s been a long time, Y/n.”

You open your mouth. You close it. And you try talking again.

“Elain?”

Her forced smile fades into an empathetic look. Her expressive face has always been easy to read. Her next words are harder to understand, though. 

“I really hated you, you know. Utter, raw hate. And maybe I still hate you a bit. But… despite that, you deserve to know more about Azriel.”

She hates you. Understandable. She wants to talk about Azriel. That makes no sense at all. 

When you finally manage to word something, you ask her, “Know what?” 

“Well - could I come in first? It’s freezing here. And this may take a while.”

You let her in and guide here to the couch. Your mind is blank as you prepare some tea for the both of you. Is still blank when you start mindlessly listening to Elain talk about the weather, your family, and other things you can’t quite hear because your head is full of one clear scream:

Azriel!

“Elain,” you cut her off mid-sentence. “Please, just - what is it that you really came here for? Earlier you said something about Azriel.”

“I know. I know,” she replies softly. She inhales deeply. “I don’t know where to start...”

It was a sad day. Rain kept pouring and I felt lonely in my room. Only the drops of water accompanied me. 

Or at least that was until I saw them. Azriel’s shadows. And like smoke warns you about fire. His shadows only meant he was next. 

“Do not hide,” I commanded, no longer vulnerable against he who had broken my heart.

Then, he appeared, wearing black clothes, as obscure as his semblance. Sad eyes watched me back. Guilt and tears mixed in their dark color. 

“I am not hiding, Elain,” he said, softly as a whisper. “Not anymore.”

The pain in his voice moved me. He sounded miserable. He looked miserable. 

I walked to Azriel. Yes, I was mad at him. But that didn’t dismiss the love I still had for him - the worry I felt for him. 

The moment I laid a hand on him, barely a touch, he broke. He moved to hug me desperately as he cried and begged for forgiveness.

He confessed what we both knew I knew. That he had been with Y/n that summer. And that he still loved her after it. He said he wished he hadn't hurt me. And that he was sorry. So sorry.

He kept crying for so long it shocked me. He never showed me his feelings, but now, here he was, crying and sobbing as if he had never been touched by sadness before.

Once I accomplished to soothe him a bit, he told me what had happened. He told me trough sobs he had found his mate. He didn’t have to tell me her name. I knew. 

I had always known. Since the very first moment he had returned home after summer, I had known there had been someone. And I knew she was much more for him than just a someone. Even if he lied to me. Even if he lied to himself. 

But a bond… No lie can conceal the mating bond. 

Not even a lie to believe there is one. But he had tried to believe for so long that he would find one in me. In us. 

I felt like a disappointment every day that passed and the bond didn’t snap. I felt like that was the only way to prove myself worthy of his love. Had he had known we weren't mates earlier, I knew he wouldn’t have wasted a second on me. 

That was Azriel. A male obsessed with finding a mating bond and feeling unloved. It was a vicious circle he had entered. And I had jumped to the spiral with him… 

“And so did I,” you say.

Elain's eyes find yours in surprise when she hears you, like as she had been lost in her story. You know that feeling quite well. Memories with Azriel cut bone-deep and are always there to stay and come to the surface whenever they want. 

“And so did you,” she breathes. Then she chooses silence, still reeling from her confessions. 

You have a feeling that day she’s talking about was the day Azriel had left. The day the bond had snapped. The day you told him… 

You inhale deeply. Trying to think of something else.

“Y/n,” she calls. “The truth is, I hate you. You must have guessed that of course; I know I was rude to you when we first met. I pretended I didn't know anything so I could go on hurting you without consequence." She sighs and adds, "And I also hate him. I wish I didn’t, but I hate you both. He’s broken my heart, and you are the main reason as for he has done so. But, I had been thinking these months. About everything. But, especially, about where this anger comes from.” 

You watch as she wipes her tears. And your heart breaks for her. But, you can’t do anything, so you just continue listening to what she has to say. 

“And the truth is - you’ve just gotten what I always had wished for. A mating bond. It’s the only thing I’ve always wanted since I met Azriel. I hated the thought of being tied to anyone before that. But with Azriel, I wanted nothing else. And now…now I will never have that. Because you have it.”

Silence breaks in through the truths she’s sharing. And you both just sit with them like that. Guilt and sadness filling your heart. 

You let Elain take her time, and even though she claims to hate you, her kind eyes tell you she’s thankful for giving her a moment. 

“And… well, that though I had for many weeks. That you shared the bond with him and I didn’t. And to go through those weeks, I tried to use something he’d told me. That you hadn’t accepted it. That you hated him. I tried to convince myself that that made us even. I didn’t have the bond, but you, in a way, didn’t either. However, that didn’t do anything to make it better for me. It even made it worse. You had what I would’ve killed for, and you just - didn’t care. You had let him go. And well - I guess that is why I’m here.”

“I don’t understand. You’ve come here because I didn’t accept the bond?” you ask surprised and shocked.

“Yes. And because I want you to accept it.”

Your jaw nearly drops, and you have to close your eyes as you try to make some sense of this. Azriel cheats on her, and she wants for him to have his mating bond accepted by the one girl he’s cheated her with. What -

And not only that. Does she not know how much damage he’s done to you to?

“Elain, but-”

“I know. I know. That day, he told me everything. I know what he did to you. I know you didn’t know about me. That doesn’t make me hate you less. But it also doesn’t mean you don’t love him still.”

“What, but I-

“You deny it?” she asks, her eyebrows accusingly risen.

Of course you don’t. You will never deny loving him. And so you stay silent. 

“Listen, I know you are angry at him. A lot. But not half as much he is with himself. He hates himself for what he did to me and for what he did to you. And I know exactly how hard it will be to forgive him, but, you have to. It’s as simple as that.”

“No, no it’s not,” you whisper, almost on the verge of tears. 

“It is. You are mated. You love him, and he loves you. And…” She swallows and adds, “He doesn't love you because you are mated, he loved you long before that. Even when he thought it was supposed to be me. It was always you for him. It is that simple.”

Your cheeks are wet and your eyes hurt from shutting them so tightly when you feel her hand on your arm, caressing you like as she held love for you. You think how you could have ever hated this girl.

“Elain.”

“Yes?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for me. Only be sorry for yourself if you let anger ruin the most precious treasure the gods have given you.”

“The mating bond.”

She cocks her head. “No.” You look up to find her eyes. “A soulmate. Someone that, with or without that bond, is made for you. And Azriel is.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” she laughs softly.

“But, I don’t think he wants it anymore. I told him some things that-”

“Y/n, listen. Azriel loves you still just as much as you love him. No matter what he did. No matter what you said, your souls are tied. And your love hasn’t gone anywhere. Do not waste it.”

And her clear words make it dawn upon you. 

A revelation; You have to go find him. See for yourself that your love still has a chance. 

You smile at her, and she returns your smile softly.

The path to here has been difficult and blurry. What Azriel did is not completely amended. His mistakes have been done. And so are yours. But you are ready to forgive, if he is ready to be better. And you know he is. Because now, with this love you let yourself feel for him, the path seems easier and clearer. 

You know you both have things to solve, and talk. But love will be there with you every step of the way. 

And not only love.

The mating bond. 

“Do not waste what so many wish for when they look up to the stars.”

next chapter

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

Just one more chapter to goooo. I know our little Azriel hasn't appeared on this one, but he will of course be on the grand finale. Prepare yourselfs for a lovely ending to this story. Hope you liked it as I've loved getting back here to write for More Than This. Please know I much appreciate when you engage with my posts, especially when you comment nice things :) Thanku for reading.

tag list:

@kalulakunundrum @bubybubsters @goradgirl @kennedy-brooke @going-through-shit @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @linoisqt @minakay @nastynesta @lockedinmytower @stargirl1714 @justagingerliving @marvelpotter @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @mis-lil-red@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @e-dollly @emptyporsche @cwallace02sblog@impossibelle @sidthedollface2 @justdreamstars @nyotamalfoy @cryinghotmess @fightmedraco @strangersunghoon @acourtofbatboydreams @snatched-bubblegum-bitch

IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAGLIST COMMENT IT ON THIS CHAPTER PLEASE.

[alwaysobsessed777]

OKAY GUYSSS, Nika's post on instagram has made me feel so much better about her. I'm sure it's still gonna be tough and all but she's resilient and will just get better than before the injury. And with that being said...

IIT GAVE ME MOTIVATION TO WRITE. So...anon who suggested this....i finally have it written. ENJOY!!

"NOTRE DAMN" - N.M.

words: 823

Warnings: none i can

Summary: Reader gets hurt while playing against Notre Dame. Nika helps her.

JANUARY 27, 2024

NOTRE DAME VS UCONN

GAMPEL

2nd quarter, 20 seconds left on the clock. We were down by three, one shot is all it took to tie it before half time. I ran up the court, finding a place to shoot if the ball was passed to me. I watched as the opposing team switched to their defense, the rest of the huskies running down the court.

Nika ran down the court, ball in hand, calling out plays. Her eyes met mine, nodding throwing me the ball. Wide open, easy shot, that’s what you’d think.

As I’m going up, a player, number 5, Olivia Miles, comes up to guard me. She jumps to block, not really slowing down. As I’m up in the air, I feel her body collide with mine. I lose hold of the ball, I fall back, my feet not able to hit the floor. My back hits the ground, my head bouncing off the court, pain shooting through my body.

I roll around trying to find a position that doesn’t cause pain, but anyway that I move it hurts. My head throbbing, back aching, I felt nothing but pain. I felt someone place they’re hand on my head, I opened my eyes. Nika.

“Hey, baby, you alright?” She was worried, I couldn’t even put together the words to make her feel better.

“My head…it hurts,” I manage out, Nika nodding. She helps me up, giving me a look. I couldn’t tell what she was getting at.

“You want me to carry you over to the bench?” I nod, my body felt like I was going to drop with just standing. She picks me, holding me bridal style, walking me over to the bench.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby, okay?” Nika’s voice soft, I nodded in response. She was weirdly calm, but I wasn’t paying attention to that.

She placed a kiss on my forehead, “They have no shot at winning this, we’ll win this for you,” her smile blinding yet comforting. I nodded.

“I know you will, niks.”

And the team did just that, Nika especially. She locked down on Miles, causing her to become frustrated, fouling out. As it was announced that she had fouled out, Nika sent me a look, a smile plastered on her face. I just laughed. She sent me a thumbs up, a look of concern on her face. I sent her one back, she nods. The rest of the game, flawless from UConn side. Shots falling in, defense never backing down, and everything was being done by everyone. This game had to have been the best game ever played by this team ever.

Paige hitting six threes, a total of 27 points, a couple blocks. The freshman totaling 30 points together. Then, there was Nika. 18 points, four threes and 5 steals. Her adding up on her assists with 11 in this game. A double-double, to say the least, I was proud of her.

“Best game ever! You played so well, Niks!” I walked over to her, bringing her into a hug. She nuzzled her head into my neck.

“Mhmm, all for you, y/n,” I blushed, melting into the hug more. She lifts her head up, her hand finding it’s place on my cheek, “You feel alright?”

I nod, “Better, but they think I have a concussion.” Her face dropped slightly; I wouldn’t be able to play a couple games with her.

“Hey, it’s alright,” I said, her eyes never leaving mine, “It’s the better outcome then what it could’ve been.”

“You not having a concussion?”

I swat at her arm, “No, Nika,” I laugh, “I was scared I did something to my back or my neck. They said that it might just be some bruising.”

She nods, her smile returning, “That’s good news.”

“Why are you so smiley?”

“I’m here with you.”

I blush, “I would kiss you right now.”

“Do it.”

“Nika…people would find ou-“

“I don’t care about other people; I care about you. I want you to kiss me,” I hesitated, she took that as her sign to kiss me. In the room full of people, she kissed me. After hiding for months, she’s finally kissed me in public where people could see.

“Why? Why’d you do that?”

“I love you more than my reputation,” she paused, “Which reminds me…I said a lot of things to get under Olivia’s skin so.”

I tilt my head, “And what exactly did you say?”

“Too much to say now, we should go with the team,” She begins to pull me towards the team, her hand interlocked with mine.

Paige sees us, a smile big on her face, “Y’all’s kiss made it on TV!”

I look over at Nika, a smile resting on her face, “Good, then everyone will know not to screw around with my girl,” She looks at me, “How do you feel about that, the kiss on TV?”

“Everyone will know I’m the luckiest person ever.”

--------------------------------------------------------

A/N: if this happens to be trash....i'm sorry

[sidekick-hero]

I think I love you, still

Written for day 1 of @steddieangstyaugust, second chances. Title is from "Still" by AVEC.

Tags: modern au, exes to lovers, steddie dads, getting back together

words: 2.8k | AO3 | rated teen

"Steve, come on." Robin's eyes bore into him, the frustration palpable. Steve knows that look, knows it means he's missing something, but he can't quite figure out what.

"It's just, Liz was nice, okay? We had a nice time." Even as he says it, he knows it's a weak argument. The word 'nice' feels hollow, a placeholder for something he can't quite define.

Robin rolls her eyes. "Steve, 'nice' is what you call a weather forecast, not a date. If you were really into her, you'd have more to say."

"She laughed at my jokes, she looked pretty, she smelled nice—"

"But did you feel anything? Sparks? Butterflies? Anything more than just... niceness?" Robin interrupts, her voice softer now, more concerned than frustrated.

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. He's always been good at charming his way through dates, but there's been an emptiness lately, a disconnect he can't quite explain.

Robin sighs, her expression softening. "Steve, you deserve more than just 'nice'. You deserve someone who makes you feel alive."

Steve glances away, feeling a pang of discomfort. He doesn't want to admit it, but Robin's words hit home. The hollow feeling he's been carrying around, the absence of excitement and genuine connection, has been gnawing at him. He knows she's right, but the thought of confronting it feels too overwhelming. Before he can dwell on it, he decides to change the subject. "I’m picking up Lily from Eddie’s later. You wanna come over and watch a movie tonight?”

Robin raises an eyebrow but plays along. "Would love to, but Vickie and I are going on a date. She’s finally got a night off at work and I plan on making the most of it.”

Steve waggles his eyebrows. “Someone’s getting laid tonight.”

“God, I really hope so. A girl has needs, Steve. Needs.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Steve laughs. “I’ll tell my daughter that her auntie Robbie prefers her girlfriend over her goddaughter. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Robin half laughs, half groans. “Oh my God, don’t say it like that. You know I love spending time with Lily, it’s just…”

“Robs, I was joking. I know you do. I’m happy for you and Vickie. Go out, have a great night with the love of your life. Lily and I won’t run away.”

Robin nudges his shoulder with hers, her smile warm but tinged with concern. “Thanks, Steve. You know, you deserve that kind of happiness too.”

Steve's smile falters slightly, his eyes flickering away. “Yeah, well...”

“Steve,” Robin says softly, “you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you’re still hurting.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple, Robs. I can’t just… move on. Not when I see Eddie all the time because of Lily.”

Robin’s gaze softens even more, and she places a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to move on, but you do need to face how you feel. Avoiding it isn’t helping anyone, least of all you.”

He looks at her, his eyes big and pleading. Why is it still so hard, even after all these months? “I don’t know what you want me to say. That I still love him? That every time I see him, it feels like someone’s twisting a knife in my chest? Because it does, okay? But that doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh Steve” Robin says, voice full of the same pain he’s feeling. He knows how much it’s hurting her to see him in pain, that’s why he’s been trying to hide it from her. “Maybe it doesn’t change what happened, but it could change what happens next. You and Eddie were great together. And from what I hear, he’s been just as lost without you.”

Steve blinks, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Robin takes a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. “Eddie… he’s been different since you two broke up. Chrissy said he’s been distant, not just with you but with everyone. I think he’s hurting just as much as you are.”

Steve’s heart aches at the thought of Eddie in pain. “Then why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he try to fix things?”

It's true, it was Steve who said those last words: Maybe we should break up. He hadn't said it because he didn't love Eddie anymore. But they fought all the time, about everything. When they first started dating, things had been so much easier. They never had big fights, just little things that would be fixed in no time before they had great make-up sex.

All that changed when they adopted Lily. He could never, not for one second, regret the miracle that was their little girl. But she showed them in bright technicolor all the things that weren't working between them.

Suddenly, money became a real problem. So did their jobs and hobbies, and the way Eddie could never clean up after himself, and Steve's tendency to become a mother hen and a control freak, with his anxiety making him moody and bitchy.

Breaking up had seemed like the most logical step, and when Steve had suggested it, Eddie had just hung his head and said, "Maybe you're right. Lily shouldn't grow up with her dads fighting all the time."

And that was it. They separated. There was no yelling, no slammed doors, no broken dishes. Just silence, devastating and final in a way that no fight between them had ever been.

"Maybe he thought you would be better off without him. Or maybe he's just as scared as you are," Robin suggests gently, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. "Look, all I'm saying is maybe tonight could be a chance for the two of you to talk. Really talk."

Steve shakes his head, conflicted. "I don't know if I can, Robs. What if it just makes things worse?"

Robin squeezes his arm reassuringly. "Or what if it makes things better? You won't know until you try. And you both deserve to be happy, together or apart. But you have to give yourselves the chance to find out. It's been two years, Steve. Don't you think the fact that you're still in love with him means something?"

"I think it means I'm really bad at moving on and letting things go. Look how long it took me to get over Nance."

"It's not the same and you know it. You and Eddie... I've never seen you look as happy as when you were with him. And I know you two ended things for a reason, but Chrissy told me that Eddie has gotten really good at the whole adult thing, y'know. And he takes good care of Lilly. Even toddler-proofed the recording studio so he could take her with him."

The thought makes him smile. He didn't know that, but it makes a warm feeling spread in his chest.

Steve exhales, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. "All right, I'll think about it. But no promises."

Robin gives him an encouraging smile. "That's all I'm asking. Just... be honest with yourself, Steve. And with Eddie."

Steve nods, feeling a mixture of dread and anticipation. As he leaves to pick up Lily, Robin's words echo in his head. Should he be honest with Eddie? Tell him how much he misses waking up with Eddie's curls tickling his face, his warm body pressed against his own. Open up and admit how he still falls asleep on the couch wrapped in Eddie's Metallica hoodie? Explain to Eddie why the days they trade Lily are both the best and worst days of his week?

As he drives to Eddie's, memories flood his mind-their first date, the day they adopted Lily, the laughter, the love, the heartache. He's scared, but underneath the fear is a glimmer of hope. Robin said that Eddie might miss him, too. That he has grown. And Steve thinks maybe they both have. Because Steve realizes that he, too, has changed, has settled into his responsibilities as Lily's dad.

Maybe he'll ask Eddie to join him and Lily for their movie night, and then they can put her to bed together like they did when they first had her. Before everything blew up in their faces. And then, if things go well, he could open a bottle of wine for them and they could talk.

When he arrives at Eddie's apartment building, Steve has made up his mind, his heart beating faster at the thought that maybe, just maybe, they might get a second chance.

He knocks on the door with an almost giddy smile on his face, which only grows when the door is flung wide open before he's even finished knocking.

Lily jumps into his arms and Eddie steps into the door with a smile. They exchange a few words about Lily's visit with her dad, the usual polite conversation that feels painfully superficial to Steve. He can see the exhaustion in Eddie's eyes, the way his smile doesn't quite reach them, and it only makes his heart ache more.

Summoning his courage, Steve takes a deep breath. "Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to join Lily and me for a movie night tonight? Just like old times."

Eddie hesitates, and for a brief moment, Steve's heart lifts with hope. But then Eddie glances away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh, I'd love to, Steve, but I actually have a date tonight."

The words hit Steve like a punch to the gut. He struggles to keep his composure, forcing a smile that feels like it's cracking his face. "Oh, that's great. I hope you have a good time."

"Thanks," Eddie replies, his gaze softening with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Steve nods quickly, not trusting his voice to hold steady if he says more. "Yeah, of course. No worries. I just thought it would be nice. Anyway, have fun."

Eddie's eyes linger on Steve, as if searching for something unsaid, but he doesn't press further. Steve feels the weight of those eyes on his back as he turns to leave, Lily clutching his hand tightly. He tries to act normal, to hide the turmoil churning inside him, but every step away from Eddie's door feels like a step deeper into his own loneliness.

As they walk to the car, Lily chatters about her day, her innocent excitement a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Steve's heart. He listens, nodding and smiling at the right moments, but his mind is elsewhere, replaying the scene over and over.

When they finally reach the car, Steve lifts Lily into her seat and buckles her in, his hands trembling slightly. He takes a moment to compose himself before getting into the driver's seat, glancing at his daughter in the rearview mirror. Her wide, curious eyes meet his, and he forces another smile.

"Ready to go home, kiddo?" he asks, his voice strained but steady.

Lily nods enthusiastically, and as they drive away from Eddie's apartment, Steve's thoughts drift back to Robin's advice. Maybe he should be honest with Eddie, but tonight isn't the night. Tonight, he needs to focus on Lily, to find solace in the simple joy of spending time with his daughter.

At home, he helps Lily settle at the kitchen table with her crayons and coloring book before moving to make them dinner.

“Spaghetti-O's okay, baby?” he asks, already knowing her answer.

“Yayyy!” she cheers, lifting both arms in a way she clearly picked up from Eddie.

They both settle on the couch with their dinner on their laps, indulging in the treat as Steve starts the movie. Finding Dory, a movie Robin recommended. Lily is totally engrossed in the adventures on screen, giving Steve the freedom to let his mind wander. He tries to push those thoughts away, but the image of Eddie with some faceless guy keeps intruding.

It hurts, and he wonders again if he could have done something different. Maybe if he’d said something, told Eddie about his feelings earlier… He’s still convinced that breaking up was the right decision, that it wasn’t working and that Lily was the one suffering because of it. Back then, they had forgotten how to talk to each other. But now, Steve feels like they could re-learn, not just how to talk but how to be together, if they could give each other the time and space to do so.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even hear the doorbell ring. It’s only when Lily pulls at his sleeve that he looks up.

“Huh?”

“Someone’s at the door.”

Steve's heart races as he moves to the door, unsure who could be visiting at this hour. He opens it to find Eddie standing there, a hesitant smile on his face. He’s not dressed up, instead wearing a well-worn pair of dark jeans and a soft-looking hoodie.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly.

“Hey,” Steve replies, his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. “I thought you had a date?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. “Yeah, about that… I canceled. Figured I’d rather be here with you and Lily. If that’s okay?”

Steve’s heart skips a beat, his mind racing. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”

Eddie steps inside, and Lily's face lights up. “Daddy Eddie!” she squeals, running to hug him. Eddie scoops her up, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey, princess. How’s my favorite girl?”

“Good! We’re watching Finding Dory!” Lily announces proudly.

“Sounds like fun,” Eddie says, setting her down gently. He looks at Steve, his expression softening. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” Steve says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll get you a plate.”

As they settle back on the couch, the atmosphere is charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. Eddie sits beside Steve, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brush. It’s a small contact, but it sends shivers down Steve’s spine.

Throughout the movie, Steve finds it hard to concentrate. His mind is a whirl of emotions, questions, and hopes. He glances at Eddie, who seems equally distracted, though he’s making a valiant effort to engage with Lily and the movie.

When the credits finally roll, Lily is already half asleep, nestled between them. Eddie looks at her with a tender smile, then at Steve. "She's grown so much," he says softly. "Every time I look at her, I swear she's grown another inch."

"Yeah, she has," Steve agrees, his voice just as soft. "It doesn't help that you only see her every other week."

"Ouch," Eddie winces and Steve's head whips around.

"Oh God, Eddie, no! That's not what I meant. I feel like I've been putting my foot in my mouth around you lately," Steve says with big, pleading eyes and color in his cheeks, "What I meant to say is that Lily misses you, you know. We both do."

Eddie's face softens, his eyes flickering with feeling. "I miss being with both of you, too. Every day."

Steve's heart aches at the admission and he decides to take Robin's advice. "Eddie, I..." he begins, just as Eddie says, "Steve...."

Eddie hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Steve, I was getting ready for my date, but I couldn't stop thinking about the expression on your face when I told you. It was like a punch to the gut."

Steve's eyes widen in surprise, but he stays silent, letting Eddie continue.

"I realized in that moment that all I wanted was to spend the evening with you and Lily, like a family," Eddie says, his voice trembling slightly. "No date could ever measure up to the way I feel when I'm around you."

Steve's heart races, his breath catching in his throat. "Eddie, I... I don't know what to say."

Eddie reaches out, gently taking Steve's hand in his. "You don't have to say anything right now. Just... know that I still love you, Steve. I never stopped. And I miss us, more than words can say."

Steve's eyes fill with tears, his grip on Eddie's hand tightening. "I miss us too, Eddie. Every single day."

Eddie pulls Steve into a hug, their daughter still nestled between them. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay? For Lily. For us."

Steve nods, feeling a sense of hope he hasn't felt in a long time. "Yeah, one step at a time."

As they sit there, holding each other, Steve knows this is the beginning of something new. It won't be easy, but he's hopeful that they've both learned from past mistakes. This was their second chance, and he knows they'll make it this time. Together, as a family.

[tempe-brennans]

and i'd come back if you'd just call

author's note: soulmate au + apocalypse

summary: you show up in jackson and turn joel's life upside down

warnings: implied smut and handsy touching

word count: 2.7k

There’s gray in his hair. He’s sure he should feel grateful for that–especially now–and some part of him does, he supposes.

He has people.

There’s Ellie and Tommy and Maria. You.

He’s not sure exactly what to do about you.

Besides, he’s more concerned about the ache in his back and the knots in his muscles–much more important problems than the love he’s beginning to think he still feels for you or the sunflower burning on his wrist.

There’s heating pads for his muscles and pain pills for his back–concrete solutions.

You, on the other hand, you’re young and fun and something he can’t quite get his fingers around.

And, you had left him–a fact he can’t quite forget. No matter how much he’d like to.

His throat is sore, scratchy in the way that tells him he spent last night snoring. Sighing as he sits up in bed, he cracks one shoulder and then the other.

His feet don’t want to find the floor. His body doesn’t want to hide behind the curtains in his own home because he can never be sure if you can see him.

Tommy thought he was so funny, making you two neighbors.

Joel does turn, eventually, let his feet land on the too cold floor. Toes slip into slippers he’d left in reach when he’d gotten into bed last night. He reaches blindly for the faded flannel robe that’s draped over the chair in the corner of his room.

He hasn’t had time for such indulgences, too busy running–from life, monsters. Anything. Before, he simply hadn’t wanted them.

But, Ellie had presented them both–a set, though the patterns didn’t match at all–as a gift and he hadn’t been able to say no.

He’s tired of being so sharp, so tough. In his own home, at least, maybe he can rest.

Home.

The thought brings his mind back to you, against his will, and as he pours his coffee he tries to see if your lights are on.

He can’t tell. The sun is working against him. He resolves himself to the fact that he’ll run into you at some point in town, so, really, what does it matter if you see each other sooner rather than later?

Besides, he’s almost positive you aren’t sitting in windowsills, pining after him.

He sits in the recliner Tommy had insisted he just had to have and welcomes the ability to put his feet up. It’s a relic–a handle raises and lowers the foot rest–but, somehow, it still works.

Taking a drink of his coffee, he thinks.

There’s no sound in the house, something Joel still hasn’t gotten used to since Ellie moved out.

I’m 20, she had said when Joel had asked if she was sure she wanted to leave, as if that was an explanation. Besides, don’t you want your own space?

He didn’t, if she wanted to know the truth. He wanted to hear her downstairs cooking breakfast or the sound of her snoring through the crack in her bedroom door.

He knew why she had gone, though. It was the same reason he had left home the moment he turned 18.

Freedom.

So, he could understand it, even if he wasn’t entirely fond of it.

He sees her every few days anyway.

Coffee now gone, he knows his day has to start, even if the town now feels like a loaded gun is waiting around every corner. He dresses–a flannel still happily coasting between cozy and too threadbare and jeans. He cracks his front door, feels the bite of the winter wind, and shuts it firmly.

An extra jacket wouldn’t hurt.

x

“I’m telling you,” Joel mumbles, “she probably doesn’t even remember.”

Tommy quirks a brow. “Are you kidding?” Shaking his head, he laughs. “You spent the better half of a year together. The tattoos–”

“I don’t wanna talk about the tattoos,” Joel dismisses. “Besides,” he mutters, “it was eleven months.”

“Oh,” Tommy hums. “My mistake.”

Silence and then, “You know someone will notice, right?”

Joel tilts his head. “You see me wearing a lot of short sleeves in the winter?”

“You can’t use the weather to hide forever, bro. The minute Ellie–hell, anybody–notices the two identical sunflowers on your arms?” He shakes his head. “Secrets out.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks. “What secret is that?”

His little brother leans in, whispers, “You can still find your soulmate after the apocalypse.”

“She’s the one that left.” Joel sighs. “Obviously, she didn’t care that we were soulmates.”

“You don’t even know why she left!” Tommy exclaims, exasperated.

Joel quirks a brow. “Somehow I haven’t had a lot of time, what with the apocalypse and all.”

His brother claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got nothing but time now.”

x

Joel walks the streets of Jackson, spitting snow beginning to fall around him.

Maybe Tommy is right. It’s not like Joel doesn’t have some extra time on his hands, a strange concept after the last twenty years, he has to admit.

Maybe he should take advantage of it.

It’s that thought that’s rattling around in his brain when he collides with someone else.

“Sorry!” He reaches out, blindly, tries to catch the person or their belongings–something. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” a voice says. It’s a voice he’s never forgotten–couldn’t forget, even if he wanted to–and he kicks himself that this is the way he’d run into you again.

Literally.

“It was really,” you stand, catch sight of his face for the first time, “my fault.”

He’s older now, grayer and a little softer around the edges, but, still, he can see the moment recognition lights on your features.

“Joel?”

He nods, suddenly sheepish. For once, his mind is completely blank. It can’t begin to come up with an adequate greeting for an old flame that, maybe, still burns somewhere behind his rib cage. He settles on an all too casual, “Hi.”

You smile, a soft thing. “Hi.”

On instinct it seems, you take a step closer and hug him. Though it’s been years, the feeling of you pressed against him, your arms around him, it’s familiar.

He wants to hate it, but he doesn’t. Not even a little.

He barely resists the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, take a minute to inhale your scent, before you pull away.

“S’nice to see you.”

Joel nods. “You, too.” Somewhere between the truth and a lie.

“Your hair, it’s…softer,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” Joel reaches up, runs an idle hand through it. “Haven’t had a lot of time for haircuts, I guess.” He shrugs. “I kinda got used to it.”

You nod. “It’s been a long time.”

Joel quirks a brow. “Whose fault was that?”

It’s too sharp, too biting, and he can see the results flash across your face.

Shaking your head, you glare at him, blow out a breath. “I should have known you hadn’t changed.”

You turn on your heel, away from him, and he wants to reach out, tell you he’s sorry, but something won’t let him.

He thinks it’s his heart.

“I’ve changed plenty!” He calls after your shrinking form. “Changed enough to know I should stay away from you.”

You look over your shoulder–just for a second–long enough to cut him to the core. “The feeling is mutual!”

He sighs and continues on his own path, towards his own lonely house, entirely too close to you for comfort.

x

“So.” Ellie sighs. “That went well.”

Joel chuckles, rolls his eyes. “You think?”

“We can fix it,” she says, sitting on the couch closest to him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Sure about that?,” he asks. “It’s not a leaky sink, you know.”

Her eyes light up in the very particular way that tells Joel she’s had an idea he won’t be fond of.

He’s suddenly nervous.

“That’s it,” she exclaims.

“What’s it?”

Ellie leaves the room, obviously in search of something, and ignores him.

“Ellie,” he calls after her. “Ellie, what’s it?”

x

It’s her scheming that puts him on your porch, in fact, toolbox in hand and looking for something to fix.

Real or fake, it hadn’t really mattered to Ellie.

He should never have told her he had been a contractor.

The door opens and you glare at him, unsurprisingly.

“What do you want?”

He spits it out, before he can change his mind, run back home and hide.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” He shakes his head. “You left…before. And, I was angry and seeing you again…” He trails off, settles on simplicity. “I’m sorry.”

Something in your face softens as you step aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry for leaving, you know.”

You take him off guard, turn his pulse to a gallop.

“I was…I was afraid,” you murmur, skipping over his own apology in a way that’s entirely you.

Of course it’s the way you’d let him know things are okay.

“I should have told you that, though, instead of disappearing.”

He nods, swallows down a memory he doesn’t exactly want to relive right now, whispers, “It’s okay.”

You nod, smile at him. “You want a drink? Some food?”

He nods, places the toolbox in the floor next to your couch.

“That’d be nice.”

x

Joel isn’t sure how long the two of you have been talking–minutes or hours. Maybe days. Easy familiarity settles over the pair of you, and things are like they used to be.

He’s glad for it.

“Were there others?” Joel asks, words slipping out before he can stop them.

It’s the question that he somehow desperately wants the answer to and also never wants to hear.

You nod. “A few.” But, then, “None like you.”

It’s more honest than he expected, like your heart has opened to him once again.

You’re vulnerable. He knows you hate that.

“That makes sense.” He nods, rising to his feet, hand curling around the handle of his toolbox, imagining you want him to take his leave. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

You laugh, look at him with something he would have called affection, once upon a time. “Yeah, you are, Miller.”

Something buzzes inside of him at the knowledge he can still make you laugh, even after everything, and he ducks his head, starts to head for the door.

“Joel?”

He turns, finds apprehension on your features.

He aches to set you at ease.

“Yeah?”

“Could you…would it…” You shake your head, shoulders squaring like you’re heading into a fight. “Would you want to stay? The night? With…with me.”

In a minute, he forgets it all. The pain and heartache and anger disappears with one look at your eyes.

“Yes.”

Simple–the way it’s always been between the two of you.

x

You crawl on top of him in a way he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined over the years.

His hands find a resting place on either of your hips, squeeze the flesh there lightly.

“Hi,” you murmur, grin on your face.

“Hi.” He smiles.

It’s different when you’re with your soulmate.

Joel had been with others, sure.

Tess comes to mind, but he quickly shakes the thought away–along with the memory of her death.

But, every time, even when stars popped up behind his eyelids and warmth erupted through his every limb, it wasn’t what it had been with you.

The best way he could think to describe it was…more.

As you lean down, press a kiss to his lips, he finally admits to himself how much he’d missed it. You.

x

Joel feels you pull away and squeezes you closer. “Where you goin’?,” he mumbles, already half asleep.

“Shirt,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, nuzzles his nose into the hollow of your throat.

Chuckling softly, you say, “S’winter, Joel.”

He holds you even closer–if that’s possible. “I’ll keep you warm.” Then, just to tease, fingers dance over your hip bone, inches from the crux of your thighs. “Any way you want.”

“Joel…”

“Or, are you too old for this game?” He hums, getting a rise out of you too tempting to ignore. “You get soft on me while you were away?”

Your own hand–cold from it’s trip beyond the faded quilt that covers you both–dances along the soft skin of his stomach, curls around his still too sensitive length. He jumps, hisses out a breath, interest already simmering at the base of his spine.

“I can still play,” you purr. “Can you?”

Your hand works him over, languid strokes finding a pattern that makes his skin buzz.

Joel rises, mouth desperate to find yours.

He’s always liked to be kissed–especially by you, especially when you’re touching him the way you are.

You indulge him, lips parting to let his tongue tangle with your own. He can’t help but grin into the kiss.

x

In the morning, he wakes alone. Part of him isn’t shocked. Part of him is heartbroken all over again.

Quickly, he gets dressed–avoiding mirrors with the hopes of missing any evidence you’d left behind of the night before.

He goes to Tommy’s, doesn’t even look towards your house as he walks down the street.

x

“You’ve been in love before.” Tommy shrugs. “Maybe it could happen again. Nothing says you have to be with your soulmate.”

Joel hadn’t thought about it when he’d fallen in love with Sarah’s mother.

He hadn’t had much choice, if he’s honest. One look at her and he had been done for.

So, the fact she didn’t have a sunflower on the soft skin of her forearm wasn’t of much consequence. The fact she had her own tattoo–purple dahlia petals curling around her own wrist–had never mattered to her either.

They had shared a life and love and had turned that love into something that lived outside of them.

Sarah.

It was only a few months after she was born that Joel had woken up alone to the sound of Sarah’s crying.

He had adjusted, though. The two of them had made a team and found happiness all on their own.

Until…well, Joel didn’t really like to think about that day–that last day. He preferred to imagine her laughing, head thrown back in joy.

“I know,” he murmurs. He adds, almost under his breath, “I don’t think I want to fall in love. Not if it’s not with her.”

Tommy ducks his head, sheepish all of a sudden.

“What is it?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you.”

He leans forward, insistent. “Tommy, what is it?”

“She told Maria that she was…thinking of leaving Jackson.”

Joel is off Tommy’s couch and out the door before Tommy can ask where he’s going.

Joel suspects he knows.

x

His knocks are incessant, barely a pause between them.

“C’mon,” he murmurs to himself. “Please don’t be gone.”

The door opens, shocking Joel, and he almost falls through it.

“You can’t leave Jackson,” he pants. There’s an ache in his side, a pulling at muscles that scream with use more often than they don’t these days. He’s certain he shouldn’t have run to make sure he caught you.

You shake your head, hands coming to rest on either side of his face.

It’s a gesture full of affection and hope ignites in his gut.

“I’m not leaving,” you murmur.

Joel’s tongue is heavy, suddenly too thick to form a reply. “You…you’re not?”

“No.” Gently, your thumb rubs back and forth over his cheekbone. “I thought of something to stick around for.”

“Yeah?” Joel hums. “What’s that?”

“You.”

Joel feels the heat flush his cheeks. The emotions he really feels are too much–too real–so, he settles for a joke.

“That makes sense.” He nods. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

“Yeah.” You laugh, duck your head for a minute before your eyes meet his again. “Yeah, you are, Miller.”

x

Later that night, with most of your closet mingled with his own, he pulls you close to him in bed. His lips ghost over your forehead and an arm wraps around your side.

He glances down at his wrist, takes in the bright yellows of the sunflower petals. With gentle fingers, he finds your wrist, brings it to his mouth and kisses the yellow of your own petals.

There’s gray in his hair, but, right now, he couldn’t feel more grateful for it.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write something about Smoke taking care of their s/o who tried to hide their injury from a mission they just got back from?

Tomas’ trained eye noticed that something was wrong the moment you came back from your most recent mission. He was for certain that you were injured in some shape or form with the way you’d put extreme caution and thought into almost everything you did to throw him off your trail. But unfortunately your body tended to give away what was wrong with you with how your muscles would flinch or twitch in pain, or how your hand would immediately fly to your injured side after a fit of pained laughter.

Tomas wasn’t oblivious to the efforts you put into withholding your winces and groans of pain, thinking he was none the wiser but her was very much aware of the situation, seeing how you indirectly let on more then you probably thought. So getting you to sit down and allow him to take care of your wounds didn’t take Tomas long as he now finds himself stood in between your legs, one hand holding your head in place whilst the other worked in clearing the gashes you had scattered across your face with an look of intensity on his face.

‘Why didn’t you say anything before, why couldn’t you come to me when you’re hurt instead of having me to hunt you down and patch you up myself?’ Tomas broke the silence, only to hear your scoff.

‘You could tell that I was injured the moment I walked through that door Tomas. You saw through my bullshit attempt to not make you worry about my condition. I genuinely thought I could handle it myself because you’ve already go so much on your plate that I didn’t want to add onto it with some minor scratches and possible bruised ribs.’ You replied, wincing slightly as Tomas sighed at your reasoning.

He wanted you to rely on him when it mattered most, to know that you could go to him no matter what because what he wanted to be to you was a safe haven where you could be vulnerable without fear of judgment or shame. He wanted to be a place for you to rest your weary head upon and allow him to take of you, but you were about as stubborn as an old mule and tended to make things a lot more difficult for yourself. Almost as though you were trying to prove something when you didn’t need to, at least Tomas doesn’t think you need to prove anything to anyone.

‘Just because I can read you better than anyone else doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t tell me when you’re hurting.’ Tomas said, sighing. ‘I’d like to think that after awhile you’d trust me enough to talk to me about these kinds of things. And besides you shouldn’t have to feel bad about bothering me because you know that I’d drop everything for you, no matter the scolding that i will be on the receiving end of.’ He adds with a little laugh, finishing clearing up one of your wounds, covering it up before moving onto the next wound at your cheek, all whilst remembering to keep a steady hand.

‘I do trust you.’ You defended yourself and Tomas looked into your eyes with brows raised in skepticism and you couldn’t help but double down. ‘Don’t give me that look, I do trust you Tomas it’s just-‘

‘You wanted to deal with it yourself?’ He finished for you and you sighed.

‘Yeah. I wanted to deal with it myself, they’re my wounds to lick, not yours Tomas but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me thus far.’ You told him, wincing again as he patched up another gash that was on your chin, but managed to smile through the brief moment of pain. ‘Sometimes I think that I take advantage of your kindness sometimes.’ You admitted as Tomas scoffs as he gently rests his forehead to yours as to not irritate the healing wounds.

‘That’s a bunch of lies and we both know it.’ He says as he presses a tiny kiss to your nose. ‘Now will you please let your personal doctor work.’ He adds teasingly as you let out a little chuckle and allowed him to continue patching you up for the rest of the evening.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 32

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 29, part 30, part 31

Eddie ended up needing more than just a week before he was cleared to come home. He needed at least two, and even then, it was all up to the hospital’s physical therapist to determine if he gained enough strength to go home. Where he wasn’t going to get more hurt by living at home.

But he was still coming home. And soon. Which means that Dustin has to get convincing. Steve was supposed to plant the initial seed. Let it ruminate, so by the time Dustin got there, he could hammer the final nail in. But when Dustin pulled out his list of reasons, ready for the spiel, he can barely get a word out before Wayne’s speaking.

“Oh, I already heard all about it,” is what he said. “I can admit that it’s a good plan. Thanks for thinking of it.”

That was easy. Too easy. Did Steve really convince him all by himself?

Either way, the plan was in motion. A few days later, Wayne moves in with Steve. Taking one of the bedrooms upstairs, a few doors down the hall from Steve. Right next to the guest bathroom that would be just his. He was almost never there, but it was better than the motel.

Dustin could tell that he was sleeping a little better. It could be knowing that Eddie was coming home soon, and that he could slow down the house hunting process a little bit. Give more time to find a place that they will both love and spread out the expenses of finding new furniture. Steve already offering storage space in another one of his spare bedrooms and anywhere they need.

It's not like anyone else uses the house.

Time continues to pass, and each day Eddie gets stronger. On the two-month anniversary of the day he woke up from the coma, he takes his first step without any assistance. Human assistance, at least. He is still using mobility aids. But he still did it.

Some days are better than others. The pain has subsided to some extent, but there are days where Dustin visits and Eddie barely moves. Something about pins and needles traveling up his arms and legs when he does. And there are days where he’s really shaky, and nothing can help it.

But he can still come home this week. So, they needed to actually get their asses in gear.

Steve helped Wayne sneak back into his house in the middle of the night to try and salvage some of Eddie’s clothes. Or really, anything that was in Eddie’s room. They were able to save some of Wayne’s stuff too, so he could walk around in something other than the same two outfits and his work uniforms.

The room on the first floor apparently had never even been used. So, Steve had to take the plastic off of the mattress and get some sheets for it. the room was otherwise bare, except for the patterned wallpaper and basic furniture. It wasn’t Eddie though, so it needed some work.

Dustin employed pretty much everyone he could.

“Dustin,” Gareth yelled down the hall. “I have those posters that you wanted, they’re in my garage. Swing by anytime to pick them up.”

It was more posters than Dustin was expecting. Black Sabbath, Dio, Metallica, mixed in with old posters they made for Corroded Coffin, and one old one from Hellfire. There’re a few movie posters mixed in as well from titles Dustin doesn’t even recognize. But it’s good.

Steve finds an old cassette player in his basement. Looks like it had never even been opened. It’s a really nice one too. They were able to find some of Eddie’s cassettes, but most of them where ruined.

It was still something.

“Don’t you think this is, like, a lot,” Mike questions. The posters and picture Dustin had printed out almost entirely covering the walls.

“No,” Dustin says. Going back to unpacking some of the things that they saved from the trailer.

“His room wasn’t even this covered in the trailer,” Lucas adds for some reason. “You don’t think this might be a little overkill.”

Dustin glares at them. “But he didn’t have this gross wallpaper in his trailer.”

“It is not that bad,” El comments from the bed. Her and Max just sitting there, not helping.

“Someone describe it to me, I want to know. Wait,” Max points at Dustin. Somehow knowing exactly where he is and that he was going to describe it poorly. “Someone other than him.”

“It’s literally just a bunch of small red diamonds,” Lucas explains. “Think Steve’s room but slanted and red. But not plaid.”

Max nods. “Yeah, that isn’t that bad. It could be worse. Have you seen the pink flower room.” She gags.

“It still is not that bad,” El defends.

Will and Mike share a look, continuing to unpack a box of books. Steve brings in what should be the last box of things. Considering they were only able to save so much. He looks around at the walls, taking in everything.

“Dustin, I know you want this place to feel like home, but could you leave a little bit of wall uncovered. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“He’s not a toddler, Steve,” Dustin groans. “I don’t think he’s going to get overwhelmed.”

Robin comes in to tell Steve something. But gets stopped in her tracks as she looks around the room. “Oh. My. God. That is a lot of posters.”

“Thank you,” Lucas says. Arms crossed while he stands in the corner. “I think we have more than enough on the walls.”

“There’s more?” she questions. “Where were you going to put them?”

“Fine,” Dustin whines. “I won’t put any more posters up.”

Robin leans into Steve. “By the way, your mom’s on the phone.”

Steve lets out a long sigh. “Thank you.”

He walks out of the room, Robin close behind him. The rest of them putting the finishing touches. Lucas and Mike convincing Dustin to take down some of the posters and make the walls look less cluttered. Like Eddie would care about cluttered. Have they seen what his old room looked like.

But he might be able to admit that floor to ceiling posters were a little overkill. He just wanted this place to feel even a little reminiscent of the trailer. Of what Eddie had back home. Is that really so bad?

The next day, they all patiently wait in the living room. Eddie was getting discharged this morning. Meaning that Wayne is bringing him here, right now. Eddie will be in real clothes, out of the hospital. Finally getting back to normal.

Or, as normal as he could possibly be. But still more normal than in a hospital.

Because now, he can eat real food. And get real sleep. That isn’t constantly disturbed by nurses checking on him in the middle of the night. In a bed that is really comfortable. In a house that is constantly quiet.

He might finally start to fully get back to the Eddie that Dustin knew before all of this.

A car pulls up into the drive. Doors slam, and voices can be heard by the door. Steve goes to get the door before the bell rings. They were supposed to wait in the living room, but Dustin can’t help it. He follows.

“Holy shit, Harrington, how tall is this ceiling?”

“I have no clue.”

Eddie’s crutches make soft thumps with every step. Steve shuts the door and lets them know where they can put their shoes. It’s a bustle of voices while Dustin waits for them to turn around and see that he’s there.

That he’s been waiting for this. For so long.

“You know you didn’t have to build that ramp for me,” Eddie says to Steve. Still not turning around.

“I didn’t. I built it for Max. You just get to use it for free.”

Eddie smiles a teasing smile. It’s been a while since Dustin’s seen that. “Aw, taking pity on me, are you, Steve.”

“Just shut up.”

Wayne clears his throat, stopping whatever the two of them were doing. He nods his head toward Dustin still waiting in the hall. Eddie turns his head, finally, and sees him.

Something in the shape of relief fills his face. “Hey, Henderson.”

“You’re here.” Dustin can’t help the wetness in his voice. Or his eyes. He wasn’t expecting to cry, it just happened.

Eddie makes his way over to Dustin. Slightly wincing in pain, but not complaining. He balances his crutches just right so he can pull Dustin into a hug. A proper hug. Dustin’s not sure how long it’s been since he’s hugged Eddie. Too afraid to do in in the hospital.

But he’s not in the hospital anymore.

“Yeah,” Eddie says with more waiver in his voice than he would probably admit. “I’m here.”

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

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[certifiedsexed]

hi there! this isn’t about sex itself, but since periods are usually a part of sex ed and i’ve literally just been woken up because the cramps were bad enough, i thought i would ask — is it normal to be in a lot of pain when you’re on your period?

context: i still live with my abusive parents, who don’t let me take any kind of pain medication after a suicide attempt at thirteen, so i know that this problem might just be that i need to take a strong painkiller. also the pain doesn’t ever last more than three days? like the first three days (and sometimes the days leading up to it) of my period are always hell but then it’s fine, i have no pain afterwards.

but the problem is that the pain is… bad. like being woken up in the middle of the night because my sides hurt and my legs hurt isn’t uncommon, and there’s this weird thing where i’m scared to use the toilet during these first three days because it makes my butt and my sides hurt so much that i genuinely can’t move and have to bite myself to stop myself from screaming. sometimes i’ll be in so much pain, usually in my sides but also sometimes in my stomach or legs or my butt, that i can’t even move, so i just kind of… have to lie pressed into my bed and hold my breath.

my mother has always just told me that she had worse pain when she still used to get her period, and that i’d be completely fine if i just listened to her and used a hot water bottle (i have poor circulation, so hot/cold stuff just doesn’t really feel great for me usually), and i’ve always just kind of accepted that. i know it’s common for people who get periods to talk about how painful things like cramps are, but i genuinely usually feel so miserable for the first couple days of my period that if i don’t need to get out my bed, i literally won’t at all.

i’m just wondering… is everyone who gets periods in as much pain as i usually am, at least for the first couple days? or, since i know that people experience periods differently, are people in more/less pain than i am but it’s fine since this isn’t that bad and i should just take medication each month for it? idk, but ever since i started to get periods they’ve genuinely always made me feel so so bleak and in agony, and i’m someone i’d consider who has a maybe above ‘average’ pain tolerance (i have chronic back pain, migraines, and health issues that make it easy for me to sprain/fracture my ankles which i’ve unironically managed to do about eight times in the past two years — again, unfortunately all of this with mostly no painkillers unless i can get them from the school first aid box), so i just… don’t know anymore, but i thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.

anyways, unrelated but i really do love this blog — the reblogs are always good things to read as someone who’s still unpacking being raised by very puritanical parents, and the asks always offer good advice too, very empathetically in a way that sometimes catches me off guard (there was one post on here that was something about how the asker’s father would belittle them and i think your reply said something like ‘it’s not your fault and nothing’s wrong with that aspect of you’… which i know sounds obvious but that was something that i don’t think had ever been obvious to me ever since my father started doing the same when i was younger. it was really comforting to hear, is what i mean, and your replies often are. so thank you for that! and for the time + energy i can imagine it takes to run this, you post/rb so often!)

Hi! This is absolutely a sex ed question, you're right!

So, first, let me make one thing clear: no! You are not supposed to be in this level of pain on your period. Some pain is understandable but once it gets to the point it's bad/debilitating in Any fashion, something is going wrong.

But I also want to say, being in an abusive living situation can fuck up your periods. And so can being restricted from pain relief, which-just in case you're not aware-is another type of abuse.

But what you're talking about sounds like more than just a lack of basic pain relief. That's very disabling, even if it doesn't last long. It may be that intense reactions to periods run in your family [especially since your mother mentioned experiencing something similar] but that's still something you should be getting something like specialized pain meds for or even stopping your periods altogether.

What you're talking about, especially on top of an abusive living situation, is very unhealthy for you to have to deal with.

Not everyone is in that much pain. Some people are but that's a medical condition. It's a disability! What you're talking about is a disability. It can be caused by PMS or endometriosis or PMDD or it could even be connected to whatever causes your other chronic pain but it's still very much something your parents should be getting you checked out for.

Even if your mother had the exact same pain on her period, that doesn't mean you should have to suffer through it, especially not with her revoking your access to basic pain relief. That's all completely unacceptable and I'm sorry you're having to deal with this.

I'm not sure how helpful this is but I hope it's at least good to know the pain levels you're dealing with are unacceptable and Not "normal" period pain.

Also I'm so glad you're learning and enjoying the blog, especially the advice. I also grew up in an abusive household so to hear it's helping someone else in a similar situation means the world to me, fr. 💕 Sending love, Anon. <3

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 8: 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐗

title: let it sink in synopsis: the fight was over, the war was done, but the tension was still there. watching the princess falling victim of her own mind, the navigator has to intervene. [1K] cw: established relationship, insecurity, a bit of hurt and a lot of comfort, this isn't sex it's love okay i'm sensitive about them, shower sex, masturbation.

PREV POST ✰ NEXT POST

The bathroom smelled like tangerines and honey. Hot water melted the layers of dirty, washing away sweat and tears. It was over. It was really, finally over.

Rubbing Vivi’s back, a scent of iron invaded their little bubble of peacefulness. Nami looked down at the bath, just now seeing how rosy the water surrounding them both was. Only then she was reminded of how much blood she lost. Of how much blood the two of them lost.

Sore muscles. Mind tired from all the screaming and crying. Open, bleeding wounds. It was over, finally, but that didn’t mean it all simply stopped hurting. And if her shot feet is enough to make Nami tremble, then she can’t even imagine all the things going through Vivi’s head.

The bathroom smelled like tangerines, honey, and blood.

“You can breathe now”, Nami whispered. She filled her hands with bubbles, placing them on top of Vivi’s shoulder. “You did it. Vivi, you really did it.”

“We”, she said. Vivi played with her fingers, trying to not get lost inside her own head. It was a very crowded place right now, and not kind in the slightest. “I never would’ve done it without you. Without all of you.”

Sweet words, but Nami noticed how off they felt. Their meaning was genuine, she knows Vivi well enough to understand that, but it sounded more like an echo of anyone would expect her to say than what she is actually thinking about. Nami is familiar with lies imbued with truths.

She gets it. Nami really does. Nami knows good things don’t always feel good. Sometimes they hurt for a long time. But Vivi… She doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve to wait until happiness finds her. Vivi is good, she’s kind, and she had enough of pain for a lifetime.

Nami thought a bath would help. At least, it helps her when her mind is a cruel place. Hot water takes care of the body, expelling the tiredness away, and the rest treats the mind. Oils and creams, shampoos and soaps, masks and exfoliants. After a time, muscle memory is all that remains. Not a thought, not a worry, just something new to rub on your skin.

It isn’t working on Vivi.

Calloused hands grabbed her soft hips, fingers moving in circles against her tender skin. Everything about Vivi is so delicate. “You’re thinking loudly”, Nami murmured. “I don’t like this. Not knowing how to make you happier.”

That made Vivi laugh. Nami assumed it was a good thing, although she couldn’t quite understand why Vivi would react like that. Vivi leaned onto her, head fitting in the crook of Nami’s neck. She inhaled deeply.

“Don’t mock me, princess.” Nami pinched the soft thigh. That only made Vivi laugh more. “Here I am, pouring my heart for you. Should’ve robbed you when I had the chance.”

Vivi only rolled her eyes. She took Nami’s hand in between hers, stroking the scar on it. She kissed the raw knuckles, unaffected by the blood on it. If anything, she was grateful Nami would fight for her dreams and hopes. But then again, knowing the navigator, Vivi knew it was the only thing Nami would’ve done.

Somehow, and that still surprises her, Nami cares.

 “You don’t know how to make me happier?” Vivi sighed. How truly stupid Nami has to be in order to not see she’s the only thing between Vivi and a violent sob? “Just by being near me, darling Nami, I turn into the happiest woman this country ever saw.”

“You are so…” Nami giggled, face heating up. The tip of her ears burned. “Darling Nami? Is that so?”

Vivi only nodded.

For a moment, Nami hesitated. There was something she wanted to say, something that maybe she shouldn’t. Fuck it, Nami thought. I faced scarier things that a princess. Still, she hesitated.

“I had no hope for my life”, Nami whispered. There was no need to, they were alone and so close, but that’s something one simply does when sharing a secret. “But now… Every time I look around, all I see is people I care about. People I love. I care about you, darling Vivi. I love you.”

It was Vivi’s time to giggle. Her smile was so big, so genuine, her entire face burned. “My cheeks will fall apart”, she tried to cover her face, but Nami held her hands in place. “I never thought you would be so sweet.”

“And I never thought you would be so furious. We both are full of surprises.”

Vivi kissed the crook of Nami’s neck. Little pecks, sweet just like her. Nami massaged her waist, using the right amount of strength to undo all those knots.

“Are you tired?” Vivi asked, voice lower.

“Exhausted”, Nami sighed. Her fingers moved to Vivi’s thighs, caressing them gently. “I guess we feel the same way.”

Leaving open mouth kisses on her shoulder, Vivi whimpered as those skilled fingers touched her lips. It was a weird position, her arm contorted in an uncomfortable angle, but she managed to draw circles around Nami’s clit.

There wasn’t a need to rush. There wasn’t a goal they both needed to seek after. At that moment, Nami and Vivi simply needed to be together. As close as possible.

“Thank you”, Vivi whispered. With two long fingers inside of her, a sob escaped her throat. “For being born. This world would be a boring place without you.”

Nami kissed her. She wanted to kiss Vivi, she needed to kiss Vivi, but the main reason she did so was because Nami couldn’t figure out something to say.

Hearing those sensitive whimpers, feeling as Vivi turned limp against her hand, she felt whole. “Princess”, Nami called. She rubbed her nose against the blue hair, legs trembling underwater.

Vivi smiled. “Pirate.”

Embracing one another, it was really, finally over.

taglist: @ffinosie @lovelyy-moonlight @alzaira @s2-angells @eyes-ofhell @inlovewithmariah @chiiyohiimee @shaquilles-0atmeal @bloodyziggy @salemey @kcch-ns @notanalienindisguiseblink @py-schi @miyanosm

© all rights reserved to MADWOMANSAPOLOGIST

[ist4rgirlo]

𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐨? : 𝐈𝐈

Summary: Growing up with the Conklins and the Fishers has been a wonderful experience for you; you feel as if you were a part of another family. Your days of stress as a child were over, well at least you thought that was the case not until you had to choose between your two childhood bestfriends, the one who did you wrong and the one who has been waiting his entire life for your decision.

Prev ; Next || Steven Conklin x fem!reader || My blog

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating. (lmk if i missed anything!)

Requested by: Anonymous

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Steven’s Pov

“Steven..” Conrad slurred, his eyes closed — he was leaning against the chair — decided earlier to move his seat down so he can lay down.

I looked at him for a moment before answering “What’s up?” I asked.

“Do you… do you think y/n hates me?” he said — I looked at him, and I saw him looking at the window — his brows furrowed.

I sighed, “Well, did you do something that’ll make her hate you?”

Conrad looked at me, moving his seat up. “Well, yeah. I think you already know what I did” he said, crossing his arms — slumped against the seat.

“There you go then, you answered your own question” I looked at him, nodding — smiling gently.

Conrad is a genuine guy, he's got his ups and downs, but he's a good guy. Sometimes people misunderstand him, but sometimes they're right. I guess you have to know him that well to see what he really is.

I heard him sniff “You know, I.. I never wanted her to hate me…” he paused “I shouldn’t have done that to her, she doesn’t deserve that kind of heartbreak, Steven. She’s… she’s too precious for that.” Conrad looked at me — his eyes filled with sadness, with guilt — he was disappointed in himself.

“But… still you did, Conrad” I looked back at him “We thought you guys had something special, everyone saw that. You both loved each other so much, everyone saw that in your eyes. I saw how much you loved her, you guys were inseparable” I said looking back at the road.

Conrad sighed “You know.. w-we never made things official?” he chuckled a little bit. In Conrad’s mind — he was questioning himself, asking himself why they didn’t make it official, why he never made it official.

“What? But you guys were all over each other. You would do things couples do, what do you mean you guy’s never made it official?” I looked at him — confused.

Conrad looked at me “We just never did? We never really talked about it” he said throwing his head back on his seat.

“But did you want to make it official?” I asked Conrad — he just at me and then nodded.

“She’s.. she’s worth it, Conrad. She’s literally the best girl we know, we both know that.” She is, she is worth it.

“You know... you should shoot your shot” I felt Conrad push my arm a little — I looked at him, and he smiled at me gently.

My face filled with confusion. “Wh-what are you talking about?” I felt my face heat up, I looked at myself through the rearview mirror, I was blushing.

“Oh come on, man! I know you can treat her better.. than I can.” Conrad smiled gently — pushing my shoulder before looking away, his smile faltering.

───────────────────────────

Conrad’s Pov

It is painful to face the truth, and everyone knew it, even me. I tried my best to be a better person for her and I still try to be that person - I wanted her to forgive me, but I need to forgive myself first.

There is no denying that I love her, I truly do. It hurts me see her suffer. I regret cheating on her, I regret not putting a label between us, and I regret not talking to her to make it official, because trust me, I wanted to.

And Belly, she’s a great person friend — she never deserved any of this, she never deserved to be in the middle of this.

For goodness sake, I grew up with them and messed it all up, I messed up badly and I hate myself for it, my mom would hate me if she were still alive.

We finally arrived at where I am staying at. I hopped out of the car and Steven did the same thing. I walked towards the entrance of the hotel — with Steven right behind me.

He patted me on the back “Conrad man, about what you said earli-”

I turned back to him, smiling at him — shaking my head

“Hey, no worries. I know you can, you’re a great person man” I said walking closer — patting Steven’s arm.

“Are you sure?” Steven asked, looking at me. “Yeah, I mean you deserve her more than me, Steve.”

That was the truth, I knew that he does and he probably thinks the same thing.

Initially, my mom believed it was me and Y/N, but I guess I ruined everything, I never intended for things to get to this point - never wanted to hurt her this severely - never wanted to hurt them both, y/n & Belly.

But still, I did — because of how fucked up everything was. Everything just crashed down and I was drowning and I just didn’t know what I was doing anymore

Steven looked at me before asking “So, you’re just going to give up like that?” I looked back at him.

Am I giving up? I’d say no, If I can’t be better for y/n — Steven can be better for her. “No, I just want her to be happy,” I said before walking inside, leaving Steven confused.

I simply can’t hold her anymore and continue to hurt her. I had to let her go. Steven having her would make me more happy and relieved, because I know he will treat her much better. With him, she will be in safe hands.

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taglist : @joeybandthings @scysuxx @fangirl-kimora @avengershoeee @tasha13-blog2

hope u guys enjoy !! lmk if you want to get tagged <3

thank you for all the love, i appreciate y’all :))

[bisexuallsokka]

please please please please tell me about the old fucks

send me a wip title!

nothing to see here just old fucks in old sappy love that's it 🤭

...

“Are you still awake?”  Zuko hums. “Are you cold?”  Sokka considers it, then shakes his head. “No.” “Too hot?” Zuko asks, already moving his arm, but Sokka grabs it before he can go far and brings it close to him.  “No,” Sokka says, snuggling back into Zuko’s embrace. They won’t last like this for long, their seventy year old aching joints eventually needing to stretch, to spread out. But they stay as close as they can for as long as they can, an attempt to close the gap that was between them for so long.

“Is it your leg?”

Sokka lets out a huff of laughter. He turns around so that they are facing each other, noses almost touching. “I’m fine, love.” At the unimpressed glare Zuko gives him, Sokka rolls his eyes. “My leg does hurt, but it’s fine. I just…don’t want to sleep yet. I missed you today, jerkbender.”

Zuko’s face softens, and Sokka smiles as a result.

“I missed you, too. I’m glad you had a successful hunting trip though.”

“Yeah. It will be even better when we take ‘Zumi in a few days.”

Zuko snorts. “I’m sure she’s looking forward to it.”

Sokka raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you? I promise not to make fun of you if you trip over your feet again when you’re trying to sneak up on something.”

Zuko huffs, and his aching hip forces him to roll over on his back instead of his side. Sokka mirrors his movement, but shuffles close so their arms are pressed close. Their hands find each other without hesitation.

“That was ten years ago,” Zuko mumbles. “I’m much more agile now.”

“Hate to break it to you, darling, but neither of us are getting more agile with age. Izumi, on the other hand, I swear she’s getting more athletic as she ages. And she had two kids!”

Zuko laughs. “That’s our girl.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, voice warm and soft. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Zuko turns his head to look at him. “Nothing in particular. Why?”

“Can I take you out on a date?”

Zuko’s face breaks into a wide smile. “What’s the special occasion?”

Sokka smiles. “Just that I love you,” he responds, as if it’s the truest thing he’s ever said.

Zuko grins. “Okay. It’s a date. What are we going to do?”

“It’s a surprise,” Sokka says immediately.

Zuko rolls his eyes. “You don’t have a plan.”

“I do have a plan!” Sokka protests immediately. “Where is your faith in me? I’ve been planning it for a while, just waiting for the right time.”

“Why is this the right time?”

“Just feels like it. I don’t want to wait until our anniversary, it’s too far away.”

Zuko huffs. “Twenty years. Can you believe it?”

“No,” Sokka says immediately.

Zuko knows what he means. Twenty years of marriage, but they’ve been in love for about fifty. He squeezes his husband’s hand for a second and Sokka returns it. 

“I’m worried about Korra,” Sokka says suddenly.

Zuko lets out a long breath. “It’ll be okay. She has us.”

“I just…” Sokka starts. “I don’t want to let her down. I can’t let Aang down.”

“She clearly likes you a lot,” Zuko tells him.

Sokka smiles at that. “She’s wonderful. I didn’t get to be there for Izumi when she was this little, you know? So it’s like I get a taste of that.”

Zuko doesn’t bother bringing up the fact that Izumi was a handful and a half when she was Korea’s age, even without the ability to bend four elements. He knows how much Sokka regrets not being able to be there as her father her whole life. 

He just smiles softly. “You and Korra are as thick as thieves.”

“And I worry about Katara,” Sokka adds. 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees with a sigh. Losing Aang was hard on all of them, but it was especially painful to watch Katara lose the love of her life. “You think she’s doing okay?”

“Sometimes I catch her looking sadder than usual, but she seems to be doing better. Still,” Sokka sighs. “I can’t imagine what she must be going through. Even when we were apart, at least I knew you were still out there.”

Sokka sighs. “I was always afraid, though. What if an assassination attempt was successful, what if you got sick, what if something happened and I lost you without being able to tell you how much I still loved you?”

Zuko is startled when he sees a tear slip down Sokka’s cheek and he sits up. “Sokka—“

“Spirits, I was a coward,” Sokka says, choking out a harsh self deprecating laugh. 

“We were both cowards,” Zuko says, the only thing coming to his mind right now, but it makes Sokka laugh, so it works, and he keeps talking. It’s been a long time since they talked about this, about their break up and the years they spent apart. “I had the same fears too, you know.”

Sokka moves to wipe the tears from his eyes, but Zuko beats him to it. He keeps his hands on his cheeks, waiting until Sokka looks at him to continue. 

“I know we lost a lot of time together. I will never stop regretting that. But we have had nearly twenty amazing years together now, and I’m so grateful for each and every day I get with you, Sokka. What matters is that we are here now, and we have each other.”

“We have each other,” Sokka echoes, then sniffs. “And we are going to be together until we are a hundred years old and we pass away peacefully in our sleep at the exact same time.”

Zuko huffs out a laugh. “Sounds like a good life. I am more than okay with that.”

Sokka gives him a watery smile, then takes a deep breath. “Wow, I’m getting sappy in my old age.”

“You’ve always been a big sap,” Zuko points out, and Sokka scoffs. 

“Excuse you, I am a brave warrior and defender of my people,” he says. 

“You can be all of those things and also a sap,” Zuko says. 

“I’m your sap,” Sokka says. 

“You’re just proving my point,” Zuko says. 

Sokka smiles, not looking away from Zuko. Zuko lets his thumbs brush the skin on Sokka’s cheek, lets himself appreciate all the ways Sokka’s body has changed, the signs that show he lived a long, good life. The wrinkles from his smiles and laughter are new, but those are still the same eyes he fell in love with. 

“Remember when we would stay up talking those days leading up to the end of the war?” Zuko asks. 

Sokka smiles. “Always. We both knew we couldn’t sleep because of everything going on, but it was nice to pretend that we just wanted to chat.”

“You should get some sleep,” Zuko says. 

Sokka makes a face. “But I want to keep talking to you.”

Zuko huffs a laugh. “Save it for the morning, okay? Or for our date.”

Sokka seems satisfied with this. “Okay. In the morning.”

They lie back down, pressed close, and Sokka leans over to kiss Zuko’s forehead. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

…

“Zuko?” 

Sokka’s tone wakes Zuko from sleep instantly. 

“What’s wr–?” he starts, seeing the terrified look on his face, but Sokka motions him to stop talking.

Zuko strains his ears, but he can’t hear anything.

“Something is wrong,” Sokka says, grabbing his sword and lunging outside. 

Zuko scrambles after him. “Sokka?”

In the darkness, Zuko sees a shape move. He throws a fireball above their head to illuminate them, and doesn’t recognize the shadow. 

A child cries.

“They’ve got Korra!” Sokka yells.

[dreamwritersworld]

The chore. Part 2 (Sully family x reader)

this is part two of my first story! :) I decided to add the healing and growing of our character to ease the pain and panic that mayyyy or may not come in the next part 😭. I hope you enjoy it! 💕

Tuk had only just now fallen asleep since it’s been a couple of hours flying. I know that sooner or later she’s going to be hungry so I decided to take a break and go out hunting for our meal. I laid her down safely with my Ikran while I went to go hunt. It had only been an hour since I left so I whistled to see if Tuk was at least up, patiently waiting for a whistle back. She wasn’t thankfully but I was indeed so tired so I just decided to set our meal and future meals for the flight ahead.

I slept longer than expected not as much as Tuk though, I could only hope that the trip wasn’t taking a big hit on her. So I started preparing the meal that I hunted and started a fire, moved Tuk even closer in case she was cold. We ate and got back to flying. A couple of days passed and I can tell as much as Tuk tried to hide it, she was tired of flying and searching for “a place to settle”. She just constantly asked me “are we almost there?” All I had to give her was “We’ll see Tuk-Tuk! Just hold on goofball! :)” I don’t have a plan but I hope she doesn’t notice, she should be at peace and I can’t cause anymore trouble, especially since I’m the reason she wanted to leave the forest.

It wasn’t until a couple of hours I felt tears and a frustrated sob that I noticed Tuk was over hiding how she felt. “Im tired of flying. I want to go home. I want to settle wherever you said home would be. But we can settle another place can’t we? I just want a home.” I couldn’t do anything but hold her while she cried because I knew I had to keep going. I soon realized she was starting to catch a fever, a really bad one so I was in a hurry to find a clan to approach.

Her fever was only getting worse she was hanging on but I didn’t have much time. I feel tears build up, feeling like I let her down until I see huts I think we’re close to something. I hear calls, announcing a newcomers arrival, my arrival. I hold Tuk in my arms crying begging for help. “I do not come to harm anyone Please. Help my sister is sick and it’s only getting worse.” I see the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik coming towards us and I take a kneel to show some sort of my respects since I am holding Tuk in my arms.

“Why do you come here on our island for?” The woman speaks. “I seek a place to call home. A place to settle. I understand I am different but I will adapt. WE will adapt. We will learn your ways but please accept us. My sister is burning up and- please just heal her please.” The two turn to each other and discuss with their eyes as I wait and hold Tuk tight “Sister it hurts, everything hurts”

“I know Tuk, I know it’s ok just hang on” they turn back to me and the Tsahik says “Come with me child.” I follow quickly, hearing the Olo'eyktan urge everyone to return to the normal “Everyone go back to your duties!”

I stand by watching her do her work by the time she’s done Tuk is feelings better but quickly rested. The Olo'eyktan walks in as soon as she is done and she turns to me and says. “My name is Ronal, this is my husband Tonowari. How long have you been out flying?” I look up nervous to speak “M-my name is y/n. Who you just treated is Tuk. We have been flying for a couple of days now.” Silence is between us as she contemplates her next words “You seek a place to settle yes? Well you must learn our ways as you already stated. You must not fall behind.”

“Yes, yes I understand thank you. Thank you truly” She takes a moment to look at my face “Child, what is that scar?” I watch as she touches it. “Oh, it was from a fight I was in. Trust me I don’t do those anymore.” She laughs at how quick I was to cover it up. Then they decided that although we were newcomers, we shouldn’t have our own mauri since we were young. I couldn’t argue this since we are their guest, so they settled us comfortably into a far corner of their Mauri.

Finally a real sleep.

I woke up to a meal being cooked and settled on the table. I had greeted the leaders and introduced myself to their children. The girl, Tyseria lead the conversation asking about Tuk and I’s interests and hobbies and we all seemed to get along until it was time to clean up and I was asked to stay longer while the two siblings did chores. Tuk had walked away into our corner to start beading a bracelet with the new materials Tyseria gave her.

In a gentle voice Tonowari said “We do not mean to bring harm but we must know what went wrong seeing as you are a child taking care of a child. How has it come to this?” I looked down slightly saddened taking in what he said as it was true and seemingly sad. Although I had to be honest and stay true to my word, I told them everything, every detail, every word ever spoken about why I fled the forest.

“Well then y/n…we will take care of you and house you. It seems as though it is in your nature to protect the innocent, you have a strong heart. So I am sorry that on that day, the day you were once again shut out and left to die. No one was there to lift you up into their arms, the way you lifted others like Tuk into yours. No one cared for you the way you should’ve been taken care of then, so allow us to care for you now. It’s time to be at peace Y/n. ” and for the first time ever it was ok to cry, cry tears of happiness and comfort. I was finally going to be at peace.

So that’s what they did. We soon became daughters to them. I grew close with Tyseria, took care of Tuk and surprisingly got along with Aonung even if we seemed to always leave conversations with both of us blushing like crazy. At some point it was hard, to lose old habits. I was so used to being on my own and taking care of Tuk I sometimes lost sight of how others perceive me…just a kid.

*flashback*

I unknowingly over worked myself, fighting to show I can still stay on the island, a war nobody even knew was happening. Once Ronal told me to stop working as my hands were starting to bleed, I accidentally got upset and told her “I can’t stop I need to keep going, stopping means I don’t care anymore.” It wasn’t until then Tonowari and Ronal pulled me aside to talk is when I realized this isn’t like before, I’m not alone.

“All right, your not alone anymore and your not a bad person for leaving. You did not come out of the womb as a frustrated person Y/n. You. Y/n, came out of the womb a beautiful child who unbeknownst to her had a couple of wires crossed. So when you have finally received true love. The love you were always meant to have, it set something off in your brain that wants to deny it and keep fighting. You have been fighting a losing game since the first day you were in your other parents care. So you can sit here and continue looking me in the eye and say as calmly as can be, “I’m fine, it’s not big deal, I’m not thinking about it anymore and I am no longer upset at my past.” That. My child, is the disease of silent frustration. It is deadly. The hardest part about having this disease is that no one in the world can see it besides the ones that hold you close. And that is why we are here to show you we care, we are not leaving, we are not going to ignore your feelings, and we will go through this together. As long as we are here no one can hurt you” *

It was moment like those when I needed someone to pull me out of my old habits, even Tyseria and Aonung did.

*Flashback*

I was looking over Tuk while she slept, it had only been a couple of days since we arrived but I was still pondering over the fact that I could’ve lost her if I had no solution to her fever. “What are youuuu thinkin?” I heard Tyseria giggle and say. I stood quiet considering if I should even say anything with the two siblings in the room but I decided to anyways “I thought Tuk would be the one…finally.” Confusion was written on their faces until Aonung said “the one what y/n?” I looked back down “the one who’s life I didn’t harm.” I immediately feel their hugs as Aonung said “you didn’t do anything wrong y/n, you did the best for her.” *

So yes it was difficult, but I made sure we knew their ways and observed everything to show Tuk to be better. We got many eyes and compliments because we learned at a quicker rate and speed than anyone at the island ever did. I didn’t want to overwork Tuk, I could never do that to her so instead while we were doing extra practice I taught her in games, the same way we did in the forest. It was going good and she maintained a smile until we were entering our home and I mentioned us having to practice breathing techniques. That’s when she got frustrated.

“No Y/n I can’t do it. It’s hurts. I can’t practice breathing. It’s easier for you to do when you already know the ways. This is the only thing I can’t and won’t do.” I sigh contemplating my next words, this is about survival and if I need Tuk to be safe I need her to learn how to breath underwater especially since she is surrounded by it. “Tuk please I know it’s hard and trust me I don’t know the ways fully either but we will learn. Together.” She’s silent considering what I’ve said “You made it so that we don’t have to fly anymore Y/n, so we that we can be together still. We’re safe now.” I glance down and smile “yea I guess we are” we sit for a moment enjoying the view of the beach. “All this. It’s worth it. All those times you would ask me if we’d find a home, all I could ever tell you was “We’ll see” and your face would fall every single time.”

“It’s better than saying yes and lying to me.” Tuk admits. “That’s what I told myself. But you want to know something I didn’t tell you? I never had a plan, I never knew where we were going. I never knew anything. I just fought and fought and fought and hoped you didn’t notice. I hoped we’d find something before you did. Did I do a good job?” My voice cracks as I start to tear up hoping I didn’t ruin her. “Of course you did sister! Are you crazy?!” I laugh and continue “When I was about to leave and you swore that you didn’t want to stay. Tuk, I fully believe if you hadn’t come I’d probably be lost. I was right to hear you out back in the forest, you made a request and I just had to trust myself and you to make the hard call. To take you with me. How did I get so lucky?” Tuk smiles and says “You made it so we can so thank you. For everything” I take a moment to stare at her and hold in the morning before saying “your welcome, for everything.”

We clean up the Mauri for awhile and continues the night like normal instead this time I felt a small hand reach out to me. “Can I..? Could I maybe sleep with you tonight.” Something we hadn’t done it in what feels like years. “You know like I did when I was little.” I agreed inviting her in. “Yea I-I’m not scared, just tired.” I smiled at her trying to reassure me while she hugs me in silence “….Tuk you’re still little” I hear her laugh and sigh “yea I know” and we drifted off into sleep.

Hope you enjoyed my loves :)!!! 💕

[its-time-to-write]

Hi,

Just discovered your page and I am obsessed! I was wondering if you could do something about Jamie getting hurt and the reader meeting him in the treatment room and comforting him? Or something along those lines, I trust you!

Thanks!

Dang, you’re putting my angst skills to the test! I wrote this instead of doing homework. Probs won’t post again till the weekend, but who knows? Not me, that’s for sure. Thanks for requesting!

feeling fragile, can’t you tell

Football matches are always tense. It’s all about squeezing Keeley’s hand when Richmond gets the ball, booing when they miss and screaming when they score. You never know how they’re going to end until they’re done, and god it kills you. Especially when Jamie has the ball. You feel like you can’t breathe until you see it swoosh into the net, after which your chest loosens up.

You love it. Mostly.

The part you don’t love is the part that results in the medics being called onto the field. Some injuries are accidental, some are on purpose. You hate those. You’ve watched more players kick, shove, and punch each other than you would care to count. Your least favorite injury so far was when a burly player broke Sam’s foot “on accident.” You thought Roy and Isaac were going to commit murder.

Jamie told you the next morning that the whole team egged the man’s house that night. That’s why he had been late coming over. He wouldn’t tell you who’s idea it was, but you have a vague recollection of Jamie telling childhood stories about egging houses with his friends.

Injuries are truly awful.

Which is why you’re standing stock-still in the owner’s box, clutching Keeley’s arm and willing Jamie to get up.

He’d done this thing where he kicked the ball away from the opposing team, but landed on his back funny. Rebecca whispers, “Oh god, it’s Roy all over again,” and you remember being told about Roy’s injury. The one that took him out of the game for good.

Jamie’s only twenty-five, you reason to yourself, he has to be ok. 

He still hasn’t gotten up. The medical team are rushing onto the field, and you’re pushing past Rebecca, running downstairs to go find him.

Keeley is hot on your heels, running as best she can in her heels which, honestly, is actually pretty good.

You’re not quite sure where you’re going, feeling blinded by worry. Keeley grabs your arm and tugs you toward the treatment room.

You burst through the doors right behind Keeley, who has almost run smack into Roy. He looks grim, more grim than usual.

“What’s wrong with him?” you whisper, mindful of the atmosphere in the treatment room. Jamie is on a table on his back, face white.

“Passed out,” Roy responds gruffly. “Fucked his leg and back pretty bad, but doesn’t explain why he’s fucking unconscious.”

Tears are beginning to form, and Keeley wraps her arms around your waist. 

You move out of the doorway so the medics can pick up Jamie in a stretcher and move him to the ambulance.

You get a closer look at him as he passes by, features slack.

You feel like you’re choking.

—

The ride to the hospital is a blur. You’re not even sure how you ended up in Roy’s car, but you’re there, sitting in the back seat with Keeley’s comforting presence the only thing keeping you loosely tethered to reality.

Your mind is running through every possible scenario as to why he passed out. None of them are good. He’s messed up his back and leg before, but never to this point. And his face.

You can’t stop thinking about his face.

To be honest, he looked dead.

Panic starts to hit again, and it takes every ounce of control you have to force yourself to breathe.

—

You’re outside Jamie’s hospital room now. His doctor said he pulled some muscles, and passed out from a combination of too little water, food, and sleep. The pain must have been enough to trigger his body into finally catching up with itself. 

You sigh, and push open the door, Roy and Keeley promising to wait for you outside.

Jamie is propped up in the bed, IVs in his arms for hydration.

At the sight of you, he says a soft, “hey, babe.”

He’s still so pale, and the tears you’d been holding in start streaming out.

“What happened, Jamie?” you ask, sitting on the chair next to his bed. You take his hand in yours. “How did I not know you weren’t eating?”

Jamie’s quiet for a moment, and you can see a glimmer of a tear in his left eye.

“I dunno,” he replies softly.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you’re just left sitting there, hand-in-hand, in silence. He’s staring at the end of his bed, you’re staring at his face.

When it becomes clear he has no intention of speaking up you say, “Jamie.”

He turns to you, eyes hollow. “Saw me dad last week.”

You blink. 

Oh.

“Oh,” you say out loud.

Jamie is silent for a beat, then says, “Didn’t tell ya because I didn’t want you to worry. He’s a piece of shit and my fuckin problem, not yours.”

You shake your head and bring his hand up to your lips. “Jaim. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry,” because you know exactly what he’s saying.

You had assumed you hadn’t seen Jamie due to all his extra training. 

You had assumed that he was taking care of himself in preparation for the game, like he always did.

You had assumed too much, because his dad was an unknown variable that threw a wrench in every place he found himself in. 

The last time his dad had shown up, Jamie had tried to stop eating. You say tried because you basically force-fed him after the first day. He also couldn’t sleep. You could feel him tossing and turning, getting up to pace around, just restless. You’d rub his shoulders, hold him close, but nothing worked. He didn’t sleep well for two weeks when he was finally so tired that his body pretty much just shut down.

So. His passing out makes sense now.

Jamie is gripping your hand, knuckles white, tears beginning to roll down his face. His face, which he is trying to keep stoic, and is beginning to return to its normal color.

“Jamie,” you say. “Jamie, you don’t have to keep all this in.”

He shrugs. 

“No, I’m serious,” you continue, “You shouldn’t keep this all in. We’re a team, you know? We’re supposed to share this kind of thing with each other, and if you think I don’t want to hear it or can’t handle it, then that’s a problem.”

Jamie whips his head around from his blank stare at the wall to your face. He whispers, “Are we breaking up?” fear evident in his expression.

“No,” you reply. “No. We’re just- we’re just figuring it out. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep things from me.”

You’re beginning to lose feeling in your hand. Jamie is looking somewhat relieved, but still not great. 

“How long are you in here?” you ask.

“Doctor wants to keep me overnight. Make sure I’m hydrated or some shit.”

You hesitate. “Do you- do you want me to stay with you? I don’t have to, if you want to be alone I can just-” 

“Yes.” 

Jamie’s color is really coming back now, and he looks like someone’s removed a huge weight from his chest. “Yes, I would really fucking like it if you stayed. I can move over so you don’t have to sleep on that fucking shitty plastic couch.”

You crack a smile at that as he gingerly scoots over. You climb into the bed, mindful of his leg and the IVs. He throws an arm around you with less care than you think he should have, but you’re not going to worry about that right now so you just snuggle into his side. He’s warm, and you didn’t realize how cold you were until this exact moment.

There’s a knock on the door, and Keeley pokes her head in. 

“Everything alright, babes?” she asks.

“All good here, Keels,” Jamie responds. You give her a small smile, which she returns.

“Alright then, Roy and I are gonna go. We’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow, yeah?” She points to you. “Text me if you need anything. Won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”

You’re not sure if she means she isn’t sleeping due to the excitement of the night or because she’s going home with Roy, but she’s gone before you can ask.

You sigh and put your head on Jamie’s shoulder.

You say, “Don’t ever fucking do that again, ok?” but it comes out as a plea, voice on the edge of breaking.

He replies, “I won’t,” in such a soft, sincere tone that you believe him. 

You breath deeply for the first time that night, just glad that he’s ok and you’re together. You are a team, after all.