#someone’s going to yell at me about this

[tressknight]

PLEASE read about abolition. I've listened to talks and read from some amazing Indigenous abolitionists and the thing that stuck out to me most, which this post basically covers, is to think about how you perpetuate carceral logic in your lives. More than supporting the police and their way of punishing, carceral logic is about how you employ the logic of punishment in your own lives. If someone does something wrong to you, and your first instinct is to punish them, something is going on here you may want to think deeper about.

I teach children how to swim. A lot of them misbehave. I see a lot of teachers yell or punish by making them sit out. I try not to do this unless they are a danger to themselves or others in the class, especially since the pool has an added risk of drowning. I try instead to ask why they are behaving in this way and to see if there is an alternative path before immediately yelling and punishing.

I taught an autistic kid for a time. They had meltdowns a lot when things didn't "go their way." Another teacher covered my class and said that we shouldn't have to be careful or pander to the kids every desire, e.g. wanting to jump in the deep end first. Instead of punishing for being disruptive or not listening, I tried to figure out why this was happening and discovered it was because the child got angry that things were happening they didnt like but they never communicated this. I asked, next time ask me what you'd like, and we can work together with the other kids in the class to compromise or make a plan. From then onwards, there were less meltdowns, and we could manage the class better so everyone was happier.

They won't swim properly? Maybe their goggles are just loose and they're not actually disobeying you. They just want to play? This is a different environment where they usually view the pool as play time and they're young, of course they just want to play.

Be patient. Think of alternatives and think about how carceral logic is embedded in your daily, average lives. This is the only way we can break the system; if we refuse to participate in it even in our average day.

One of the most important things to unpack and unlearn when you’re part of a white supremacy saturated society (i.e. the global north) and especially if you were raised in an intensified form of it (evangelicism, right wing politics, explicit racism) is the urge to punish and take revenge.

It manifests in our lives all the time and it is inherently destructive. It makes relationships and interactions adversarial for no good reason. It undermines cooperation and good civic order. It worsens some types of crime. It creates trauma, especially in children.

Imagine approaching unexpected or unacceptable behavior from a perspective of "how can this be stopped, and prevented" instead of "you’re going to regret this!”

Imagine dealing with a problem or conflict from the perspective of “how can this be solved in a way that is just and restorative” instead of “the people who caused this are going to pay.”

How much would that change you? How much would that have changed for you?

[peachysunrize]

Hide & Seek ⥃ Vampire!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: the nightly mysterious deaths make you wonder, but your grandma’s disappearance pulls the last straw. You go to see it for yourself if the myth about the creature of the dark is true and find your granny to take her home.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Dark content!! Manipulation!! Vampire!Aemond, smut, chasing & haunting, death, gore, Beauty & The Beast inspired! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, predator & prey, p in v, breeding, biting, blood & blood licking, stabbing, punching, English is not my first language<3

Word count: 4.6k+

A/n: soooo I talked to a @anjelicawrites about this idea and decided to write it so thank you for tolerating me and helping me with this idea!! also a very special thank you to @sylasthegrim for beta reading this piece for me<33 It’s inspired by Ewan’s outfit and I CANT WAIT TO KNOW YOUR OPINION ON THIS!! Comments & reblogs are so appreciated!

I don’t have a taglist for my one shots so please follow and turn on the notifications of @peachysunrizefics !

It is past midnight when you are woken up by the loud bangs on the door, yelling and pounding on the wood as someone calls your name. It is strange, no one comes to your house at such an ungodly hour, especially if they know your grandmother has trouble sleeping.

You gather your nightgown in your fist before you step down from your bed, reaching for a woolen jacket to put on before you go and answer the door.

“Coming, coming,” you yell back, and as soon as the sleep is gone from your eyes, you take in your surroundings; nothing is in its place. The house is a mess with chairs broken in half, cushions torn apart, and window shards broken into a million pieces.

“What’s happened here?” you ask yourself as you walk cautiously towards the door, staying quiet as you fiddle with the locks, thinking your grandmother is sound asleep.

You find the baker's son on your door, frantic and panting. He looks at you with wide eyes, his hands trembling, and he tries to stutter the words out.

“Y-you—“

“What’s going on? Has something happened?” you ask, wrapping the jacket around yourself tighter. You look at the poor shaking boy before you notice footprints on the snow from your house to the town. “Talk, boy.”

“Granny…” he says with fear, teeth clacking as he talks, “S-she was seen walking towards the woods with someone—“

“Are you out of your mind?” you ask in disbelief, scoffing when the boy shakes his head. “Granny is asleep inside. She sleepwalks, true, but she knows how dangerous nighttime is.”

“We thought she was on a walk with you!” He tries again, sounding desperate, “When we didn’t see her coming back we came to you! Everyone knows the myths about this town and nightly disappearances. We… we fear that your grandmother is…the newest victim.”

You laugh loudly, holding your belly as shocked laughs escape your mouth. Even the idea of your granny taking a walk is hilarious but to think of her getting kidnapped by the stranger of the night seems… unrealistic.

“I shall wake her up now,” you whisper, running back inside, jumping over the ruined furniture, and as you take in the messy room; the damage is far too severe for it to be merely sleepwalking gone wrong.

“Granny?” you say in a low tone, deep down hoping she is asleep under her flower-embroidered blanket. But when you open the door, the gasp you let out is heard from the other side of the house, “No, no, no…” 

  “Miss—“

  “Where are you, Granny?” you scream and try to make sense of the things happening around you. Your grandmother is not in her bed, her room is a mess, in fact, your entire house is. You wrap the jacket around yourself tighter, wiping your tears as you walk back to the front door to talk to the boy.

“Describe the person you saw,” you demand, your nails digging into the palm of your hands, waiting for the boy to talk, “Was it… was it as the tales say? Tall and pale, one eye carved out and teeth soaked in blood?”

“W-we could not see very clearly,” he stutters, rubbing his sweaty hand against his ripped pants, shivering under the cold wind and your much colder and teary gaze, “B-but he was tall! He… he had a long coat too and long hair as well! I did not see his face but-but I am sure his hair was as white as snow!”

“Go find a scythe in the basement and bring it to me,” you glare at the young boy when he looks back at you with wide eyes and parted lips like a fish, “Go, now. I’ll fetch the horse.”

“Where are you going?” He asks, voice shaking and hesitating, “Please, Miss, at least tell me so I can help you!”

“Enough is enough,” you wipe the tears that keep falling from your eyes, walking away from the boy to go to your room and grab a thick cloak, “I can not stand and see how people act oblivious about all the disappearances! My Granny… my sweet Granny was taken away by a man! There is no evil creature in the woods, just a man with a hunger for blood. That human is sick in the head, and should be struck down!”

“You shouldn’t go to search for Granny! People have died on that route, they have been taken to God knows where. We do not need you to go missing as well!”

“I will not,” you wrap the cloak around you tighter before you march outside, the poor boy following you with a hammer in hand he grabbed from behind a couch.

“Then let us accompany you—“

“No,” you reply, panting as you move through the snow towards your stable, petting your horse before you bring it out, grabbing a saddle, and fastening it around the horse’s body, “I will do it on my own, we have enough losses already. I will find Granny and others, trust me.”

“Please, it’s too reckless to go into the woods at such an ungodly hour! Especially now that we know that creature has Granny! Miss, let me go and tell my father about this—“

“Don’t say a word to anyone, do you hear me?” you grab the boy by his collar, pulling him closer so you can whisper harshly in his ear, “He might have ears everywhere. Tell your father about this if I do not come home in a day.”

“This is absurd! You are putting yourself in grave danger—“

“Nothing will happen to me,” you kiss his forehead before grabbing the horse’s reins and jumping over the saddle, “I will find everyone and come back, and if I am lucky enough, I will kill that man.”

“Go in grace, Miss!” he yells and hands you the hammer, petting the horse and making sure your saddle is tight and ready for a run toward the woods, “Save us from the creatures of the dark!”

“I will!” you bolt through the snow, holding the reins with one hand and the other dropping the hammer into the pocket of your cloak mindlessly as you guide the horse towards the entrance of the woods.

The crows are crowing, flapping their wings, and flying away as soon as your horse reaches them. The signs are unclear, covered in thick snow as if their old writings are not fading away already.

The howling of the wolves makes you shiver in fear. Their voices are getting clearer and closer, and you need to follow the path that leads to… somewhere. You have no idea where, perhaps a cottage, or a house, or even a castle. Based on the rumors it must be a castle, or the ruins of it at least.

The tales used to be funny, a bedtime story for little kids, but as soon as the disappearances started, things turned out for the worse. It felt as if the creature’s  long-lasting savings of food of are finished and his hunger is now looming over the city.

You turn to the left, your horse resisting and neighing before suddenly the voices of the wolves grow closer. You bolt through the path, trying to escape the voices before you stumble upon a huge gate. 

Your horse is startled by the darkness surrounding the gate, and behind the freezing bars, there rests a castle in all its glory; the building is huge, and the path leading to its entrance is surrounded by neatly cut bushes. The castle’s terraces are filled with statues of unknown creatures.

You jump down from your horse, shushing the poor animal before you walk towards the gate, examining the lock that held the doors together. Grabbing your hammer from your pocket, you swing the heavy object, trying to break the lock in one swing — the first attempt is a miss, you knock the metallic bars and create a loud sound. The second time, you hit the lock but the impact is not powerful enough to break it.

The third time's a charm; with one swing, you break the lock, fiddling with the broken thing to pull it out and open the gates for yourself.

But when you look up, you notice a flickering light coming from one of the empty terraces, and a shadow is hidden in the dark. Someone is there, you are sure of that because the glinting of a clear gemstone can be seen under the moonlight even from such a great distance.

The glinting is gone as soon as you guide your horse past the gates and towards the entrance of the castle, trying to hold it from rearing back and leaving you alone, but it is a lost cause when the animal is strong enough to knock you down and run out of this creepy place.

You sigh, tightening your grip around the hammer as you slowly push the large doors open, a rush of wind knocking you back as soon as you step inside, slamming the doors shut behind you.

You grab your hammer with both hands, cautiously walking inside the large room, looking around to find a candle so you can at least see where you are heading. Eventually, you reach a table with a burning candle on it at the bottom of the stairs. Picking it up before it ends, you make your way to a half-opened door, leading to a large dining room.

The room is cold, much colder than a human being to be able to live in, and at first glance, besides the dining table and a dusty fireplace, it looks as if no one has touched it in years.

You walk further inside the room, noticing the spider webs all over the walls and couches, even on the chairs and the empty plates — all except for one. The only chair that looks clean is on the other head of the table with an identical empty plate in front of it. But what catches your attention is not the plate, it is the full goblet next to it.

You examine the goblet, noticing the red stains around the rim, thinking of the wine this evil creature must have been having. But the smell is quite unlikely from whatever you have ever drank. No wine smells like metal nor is it so thick.

You grab the goblet and swirl the liquid in it, spilling a little on yourself before you bring the edge of it to your lips, tasting the liquid. You have never gagged so harshly in your life before, but now, you gag, cough, and spit the blood out.

You back away from the table quickly, dropping the goblet on the floor. You notice a trail of blood on the hardwood, leading to the corner of the room, hiding under the shadows. With slow and shaky steps, you follow the trail, gasping when you see your Granny lying there, no color on her face and her neck torn open.

  Granny, your sweet precious Granny who took you in after your parents’ death is now dead in a creepy unknown castle possibly haunted by a mysterious man.

  You fall on your knees next to her, letting go of the hammer as you pull her in your arms, holding her close as you sob atop her. Not in even a thousand years you could have thought about her dying like this; with so little dignity, bitten and bloodied like an animal.

Your eyes catch a shadow moving right outside of the door, merging with the darkness under the flickering candlelight. The shadow is long, and you can figure out a person’s silhouette as you slowly lower your grandma on the floor, grabbing your hammer before approaching the door without making any noise.

Slipping out the door, you follow the shadow into another hall, much larger and emptier than before, only decorated with one loveseat in front of a cold fireplace and a few empty goblets on a table next to the arm of the chair. The walls are covered in different portraits of different people, but you can see how all of them have two similar traits to your unknown haunter — long silver hair and red eyes.

  “Hmm.”

  You whip your head towards the sound, gripping the handle of the hammer tightly as you search for the source. You are scared, terrified even. Who wouldn’t be if they found their grandmother dead with blood gushing out of her while they tried to make sense of the creature who only was supposed to be a fantasy? A myth not worth exploring?

  “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you smell.”

  “Step into the light!” you scream, your voice echoing in the room as you try to keep your breathing even, “Show yourself, you monster!”

  “Monster?” He sounds so sweet, so calming and soothing, “Sweet lamb, I am anything but a monster.”

  “You killed my grandmother!” you hold back a sob as you turn around yourself, trying to figure out where he is standing, “I should kill you myself, y-you murdered all those people! You kidnapped them and-and—“

“I did not murder them against their will,” he is walking around the room, hidden in the dark, but his footsteps can be heard as he talks, “They were all on the brink of death, I took mercy upon them, and in return, well… I feasted upon them.”

“Who are you?” You yell back, walking to where you think he might be, swinging your hammer in hopes of breaking a bone or two, “What are you, monster?”

“I am the Kinslayer your tales talk about,” he tells you, chuckling when he feels you shiver, “The long forgotten blood thirsty prince.”

“Step out, coward! If you are a kinslayer as you say, then you fear nothing! Step out and show yourself to me!”

“Oh, no, no, sweet lamb,” he hums again, his footsteps growing more distant, “I will not show myself to you so easily. You have come to my home, interrupted my meal. You are in no position to demand anything.”

“I will not leave until I kill you,” you reply, swinging the hammer and throwing it at the shadow, screaming when a loud bang echoes in the hall, alerting you that you have once more missed your aim, “I will haunt you down the way you did to all those poor people!”

“Excellent!” he chuckles once more, and you can feel him circling around you, “Let us play a game, sweet lamb; I hide and you haunt me, and if you catch me, I am yours to do as you please.”

“And if I don’t?” you pant, nails digging into your palms as you try to follow his footsteps, “What will happen to me?”

  “We shall see.”

  Then you feel him leave the room, his shadow following him outside. You bolt after him, trying to keep up with him but soon you lose track of his shadow.

You have no idea what part of the castle you are in now; a large staircase leads to two wings of the castle, and each one probably contains many rooms and halls. Figuring he would follow you either way, you choose to go to the west wing, skipping a step or two on your way up as you try to find another hall and a weapon to wield.

With ragged breaths, you reach another hall, a much larger one that you assume used to be a dance hall filled with lords and ladies, and much to your luck, you find metallic armors resting on a wall, holding a sword in their hands.

Before you can run towards them, you see a glance of the man’s white hair flowing in the wind before he’s gone again. The room is quiet and dark, but you can pinpoint where things rest thankfully due to the bright moonlight.

“Come out!” you yell, making your way to one of the armors and grabbing a sword before you see the glint of his eye for one second and disappearing again.

You try to follow his steps, or even the air that thickens when he walks away, but all is lost when you can not find him in another hall. You could be lost already for all you know, you could be in the heart of the castle where no one can hear your screams while he tears through your flesh, or you through his.

The sword is heavy but it is necessary as you carry it to the other halls attached to the bigger ones — it looks like a maze, a mind game he has created just to trap someone like you inside and have his fill with of.

You are doing your very best, but even the strongest soldiers grow weak sometimes. Stopping in the middle of a much smaller hall, you look around and take your surroundings in; a small table is next to one of the walls with cuffs attached to the sides of the table, red blood stains cover the wooden surface and you finally realize you have walked into the lion’s den with your own feet.

This room is for his victims, people he takes his time with to pull out layers of skin one by one and lick the blood off of the wounds.

  “Welcome, sweet lamb.”

  You turn around quickly, holding the sword up as best as you can as he finally walks inside the room with a candle in hand, revealing himself to your angry eyes.

“You lost,” you say shakily, your hands trembling as you struggle to keep the heavy metal up, pointing it at the pale human in front of you, “Now tell me what you are.”

“Oh, sweet sweet lamb, I did not lose,” he chuckles, one hand behind his back while the other puts the candle on the table, his white hair framing his face as he looks down at his shoes before his one eye meets your frightened gaze, “I found you, which means…”

“Don’t you dare come closer,” you say through gritted teeth, holding the sword tighter in your hand while you take a step back as soon as he takes one forward, “I fucking won, now tell me what is going on?”

“Shh,” he holds his hand behind his back, his long black coat makes him even taller than he must be, and with the way he walks towards you, it starts a fire within you, a fire so bright and burning that has you breathing faster, “I told you; I am the Kinslayer from centuries ago. Aemond Targaryen, the one-eye prince.”

“That’s impossible!” you cry out when he steps closer, wrapping your fingers around the sword as hard as you can, ready to strike if he comes much closer, “Targaryens died at least three hundred years ago! You were wiped off because of what you did to people! What you are now doing to my people!”

“My family died because they were fools,” he leans a bit down, his one red eye glimmering under the orange light of the candle, “They died because they thought begging nicely for a drop of blood would keep them safe. Only I was clever enough to find a way to survive.”

“By killing people! By murdering innocent humans who were happy an hour before you took them in!” 

He steps closer until the tip of the sharp blade is pressed against his chest, but he does not back away, not really. He is not scared of death, that much is visible, but he also loves to play, and that makes it much harder to resist him. He is trying to lure you in, to hurt him, to somehow make the first move so he would not be responsible for what may come next.

“You kill animals to cook, I like my meals fresh, warm, and immediate,” he raises his hand to the blade, wrapping his fingers around it before he pulls you closer, his blood leaking on the sword and the floor as he keeps tightening his grip, “I drink to survive, and I play to live.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” your lips quiver as you say, “You have to pay for what you did to my Granny, I will make sure of it.”

“Be my guest, sweet lamb.”

You do just as he wants, wielding the sword quickly and cutting through his hand, going for another blow before he slams you to the wall behind you with his foot, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

Another swing is thrown in his way, and you try to control the heavy object in your hands but he is fast, too fast to your liking, and dodges all the clumsy moves easily, his white hair swinging behind him with each puff and sigh he makes.

With one slap to your wrists, you drop the sword and fall on the floor, looking up at him with teary furious eyes. He only smirks and kneels before you, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear but you take your chance and punch him in the jaw, pushing him down on his back before climbing on top of him, holding his rests next to his head as best as you can while he recovers from the blow.

“I will torture you until you are begging me—uff—“

He flips you over effortlessly, holding you down on the stone cold floor with one knee between your thighs and his crotch pressing your hips down while he holds both of your wrists over your head.

“You are as sick as I am in the head,” he leans down, his hot breath ghosting against your face as he speaks, “You are enjoying this.”

“I am not!” A lie, you know it is a lie, he knows it is a lie. You do enjoy this little game, you love the thrill of killing him and fighting with him. The rage inside you bubbles more with each passing second that you are in his presence, “I would rather die—“

“I will not kill you until I have had my fill,” he whispers, hiding his face into your neck as he sniffs you, “Fuck, you smell so divine, I need to taste you, sweet lamb…”

“Fuck!” You let out a noise between a scream and a moan when he bites down on your shoulder just above your collarbone, his fangs pushing past your flesh as he reaches deep inside and starts sucking harshly, “You monster!”

He only hums and smiles, his thin lips wrapped tightly around the open wound — he can not get enough. He knew how sweet you smelled, your scent drove him crazy as soon as you stepped inside his castle but to get to taste you? Licking and gulping down your blood like a starved man is something he did not expect, especially when you are still alive and writhing beneath him in pain and pleasure.

  He can make you taste even sweeter.

  “You call me a monster while you are rocking your hips to relieve some of the ache between your thighs,” he says as he lets go of the wound, his chin and teeth covered in crimson red, “So pathetic of you, sweet lamb.”

You do not have anything to say, not really because he is already pushing your nightgown up to your hips with his free hand while his other is undoing your cloak. You shiver when the cold air of the room hits your heated inner thighs, your pearl throbbing in anticipation and primal desire.

He is just as mesmerized as you are when he rips your underwear to shreds and runs his 

fingers through your wet folds, enticing a whine from you. He has you right where he wants.

You writhe beneath him as he circles your nerves with his thumb, making your body tremble with each stroke, your cunt clenching around nothing, wetness dribbling out of your hole in need.

“It’s my time to play,” he announces and reaches between your bodies to free his already aching cock, stroking a few times until it stands in full hardness. 

He wiggles around a little while you try to free yourself from his grasp, not trying to yield too quickly, but the look on his face is enough to make you whimper and spread your legs further for him.

Aemond guides the tip of his weeping cock to your entrance, pushing in completely with one swift thrust, drawing a loud moan from your sweet lips as he sheathes himself inside you fully, filling you up nicely.

Your walls grip his length tightly, pulsing and squeezing him every few seconds before he starts moving, his hips snapping into yours as he holds himself up with one hand pushing your wrists into the floor harshly while the other holds his body up.

Your back arches off the stones, legs wrapping around his waist as your mind goes to another place, taking his cock like the sweet lamb he calls you, allowing him to take and take from you — he has prepared you after all with his silly games of hide and seek, seeding the thrill inside you.

“I shall keep you alive,” he groans in your ear as he once more moves his head to the wound he created, licking the blood from your shoulder while his cock nudges the deepest part of your cunt, making your body quiver in sheer pleasure, “Your blood is too sweet for me to waste. I will keep you here with me, as my doomed queen while I feast upon you every night, leaving open wounds for me to drink from whenever I desire—“

With a newfound strength, you wrap your legs around his waist tightly and flip him over until his head hits the stone floor and you free yourself from his grip.

Now with you on top, you take the lead, riding his cock as best as you can. Hands spread on his covered chest while you rock your hips front and back, moaning like a harlot in heat as you bring both of you to the edge of euphoria.

He falls apart first; the sight of you on top of him while half of your body is covered in blood is too much for him. It has been too long since he has had a woman bedding him, but now, with a sweet lamb like you trying to bring some pleasure to yourself by using him, he is a gone man.

He paints your insides white with his cum, and you lean back on his shin to make room for yourself, bouncing on top of him faster when suddenly you feel a dagger in his boots. 

The sudden revelation makes you climax right after him, your wetness gushing around his girth as you ride the centuries-old vampire to your pleasure while you pull the dagger out as best as you can with your entire body shaking in pleasure.

“Sweet lamb—“

His voice is lost when you stab him in the heart, not once, not twice, but five times, screaming and crying while you keep stabbing him until there is enough blood to bathe in, but even then, you do not stop. You slit his throat as well, and it is then that you feel his body soften and go limp completely.

You drop the bloodied dagger and try to move, completely pulling yourself away from his body as he bleeds out and his seed drips out of your sensitive cunt.

You took your revenge, now all you can do is hope for his seed to rot and die inside of you, or you will have to bear the offspring of a dead vampire legacy.

[r0-boat]

Feral!Lighter brain rot

I'm very normal about his EP

Cw: Dubcon, consent non-con, rough sex, No beta we die like men

Thank you for coming to my TED talk...*explodes*

Even the undefeated champion can get overwhelmed whether it be from stress or simply becoming drunk off adrenaline from a fight.

All he wants to do is maul the next thing he sees, like a feral animal.

That's what pretty little things like you are for. He tells you over and over that he'd never hurt you in a soft voice that makes your heart swoon. But you know full well that he can.

He knows precisely what you want, You're not exactly the most subtle with your desires.

That thought had been driving you crazy. The What if Lighter: Your sweet, protective boyfriend wasn't so sweet with you? To see you as a toy to play with than someone that he cherishes more than anything else in the world.

Why not give you an experience to remember?

This is what you want. To have him come in just when you're about to go to bed. You're lying on the couch when your door knob clicks and turns. You know exactly who it is... There was only one other person you gave your spare key to.

It's not that you didn't want to see him. It's just that you weren't expecting him; usually, he would shoot you a maximum of three-word text when he came to crash or visit.

But this time, he practically barges in, slamming the door behind him. The look in his eye shivers down your spine as an imposing figure stocking closer toward you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, especially when he left his jacket and shirt, dropped on the floor forgotten. He took his red scarf and wrapped it around his left hand.

"On. Your. Knees."

That wasn't a request.

You looked at him, eyes wide., Whatever was showing on your television was long forgotten. Your legs shook everything, urging you to drop to your knees and let him do whatever he wanted. But something within you stirred inside, whether it be curiosity or blind courage. It made your lips move.

"Make me."

Lighter's green eyes flicker at your blatant challenge. His eyebrows raise slightly. The silence is deafening as his lips curve into a smile. His left hand grips the red fabric as the other takes off his shades, tossing them.

He comes after you in a flash, His hand roughly grabbing at your color, yanking you until he hoists you over his shoulders. His fingers dig into your back as he brings you to your bedroom, tossing you on the bed with little care of where you end up before crawling on top of you, licking his lips. He could practically smell your arousal.

And he was just as aroused as you were. Scratch that He's more aroused than you are. He feels so bad for handling you similarly to how he handles riffraff. But he can't deny how hard his cock was pressing against his jeans.

He lets out a snarl His arms flexing as he tears his pants in two. Before doing the same to your shirt and pants.

"Hey! I just got those!" You yell, hitting his rock-hard chest. It's kind of cute how you think you can hurt him.

"too bad doll, should've listened to me the first time."

There was no ounce of gentleness to how the man handles you to flip over, grabbing your wrists, and tying you with the scarf.

Coating his fingers in his saliva before plunging it inside you. His hand and thick fingers force you open. His callused palm and rough scarred fingers groping your ass spreading you whiter as wide as he could to force his fingers deeper stretching you out for the hardness you can feel grinding against the crack of your ass.

Fuck... Your muffled screams sound so good. He wanted to be at least gentle when he fucks you, but It looked like his body had other plans. Taking you like this was so thrilling. His eyes rolled back as he lost himself in his own lust, ravaging your body till there was nothing left.

"Gonna fuck you... Going to fill you up and teach that naughty little mouth not to talk back!" Lighter growls in your ear taking out his fingers before plunge again in your mouth You're empty hole soon filled with something bigger screaming against his mouth and fingers as he immediately sets his pace.

You're tasting yourself on your tongue. The thought alone was setting Lighter a blaze.

Why do you make him like this? He could feel every ounce of self-control crack and crumble.

He was making so much noise from the bed rattling and his own moans your neighbors could probably hear but to be honest he doesn't give a fuck. All he cares about is fucking all the stress he has built up from god knows how long.

From how tightly you were gripping his poor cock, to your shaking, quivering body and you're sobbing, muffled mess with your tears soaking his thumb and palm, you were close. Lighter was, too. Lighter was so close. And all he wanted to do was fill you up fill your insides tell you were leaking.

You felt him sink his teeth into your shoulder before the both of you exploded at the same time. Lighter can feel you milking him as he came harder than he ever did in his life.

For the first time since he first started training, his body felt sore as he practically collapsed on top of you before quickly rolling off so he doesn't crush you.

When he finally catches his breath, He rolls over to your side, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest, kissing your face.

"hey hey hey...shhh It's okay... It's okay we're done... I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

He'd never forgive himself if he did. But he got his answer when your arms wrapped back around him and he saw your beaming smile. He sighs in relief smiling back kissing your lips.

"I guess It's safe to say that you liked it.... Good... I did too."

[sagesariadnd]

My retail job didn't train me for the things I actually needed to know to do my job right. They expected me to be there in the mornings before the buses were even running, then didn't even give me a phone number to call to let me in because the doors were still locked. And when I DID have a number I could call, nobody answered. They told me to call the answering machine if I was gonna call out sick, but my manager never checked the machine so she'd mark me as a no call, no show if I didn't also call her, but I didn't have her personal number so if it was too early for the call to go through to my department, I was screwed. Should I have asked for her number? Sure. But you'd think that would have been step one on orientation day. They didn't even give me the number of the INTERCOM and yelled at me for never using it for several months. They didn't even pay me enough for their health insurance to be worth it.

My retail job's manager was constantly abusive to me. She'd tell me to do something with zero instruction, then yell at me for not doing it right. She'd huff if I asked a simple clarifying question to be sure I was doing something right, and snapping "*I'll* do it then, go clean." She'd scold me for the floor being a mess because I was busy helping customers on a busy Saturday afternoon. She'd scold me for missing that a customer needed help because I was focused on the thing she wanted me to get done faster. She was CONSTANTLY nagging me to work faster. She made me cry a few times from yelling at me, and said "I don't care that you're crying" as if I was doing it to manipulate her.

She constantly got my schedule wrong when I told her what days I was unavailable because of classes. She asked me EVERY WEEK to write it down, then EVERY WEEK she got it wrong, and she told me *I* was the one being inconsistent. She would acknowledge that I was going out of town one weekend, then call me demanding to know where I was that Saturday. She almost wrote up my coworker for being absent on his SON'S WEDDING. She threatened to write ME up when I tried to call out after slipping on the ice in my driveway and hitting my head, basically bullying me to come in. She screamed at me about calling out on Easter Sunday when I was up all night crying in pain from a COMPLETELY VERTICAL IMPACTED WISDOM TOOTH. I'd've loved to know a dentist that was open that day to give me a doctor's note.

The one time I actually reported her for screaming at me for using the bathroom and leaving the floor unattended (I TOLD my coworker where I was going and HE was the one who left the floor unattended to solve a problem at the register), the HR manager sighed and stared at the ceiling when I mentioned her name.

After she got transferred and someone else took over, my new manager was barely more tolerable because he was more passive-aggressive than abusive. He'd never confront me if he had a problem, just cut my hours to next to nothing. He never seemed to listen when I had to call out. He expected me to come into work the day after I called out indefinitely because I had been HIT BY A CAR. And when I did come back after months of recovery, I couldn't keep up anymore from pain and physical exhaustion. And the reason I'd already called out of work so much as it was was because being on my feet that much was literally destroying my ability to walk at all. My knees still have problems to this day from trying to kneel down to do lower shelf work to give myself some relief from my feet. And every time I tried to explain why I couldn't go any faster than I was he brushed me off. I literally quit that year, right before Christmas.

Someone who worked at a notoriously toxic retail store heard the name of the one I worked at and felt sorry for me.

I am never going back to retail.

People always gloss over how mentally damaging it can be to work in retail. I fucking hate that whenever I say “I could never work in retail again” someone has to reply “You snowflake millennials can’t take a starter job because you have to INTERACT with other people” No. Fuck you. I’ve worked as a planetarium host. I’ve worked as a public speaker. I’ve worked as a tutor and as a student teacher. I can work with people. I can work with crowds. Retail was fucking different. Retail was being treated as a subhuman. Retail was being treated so poorly that you have anxiety attacks before work. Having to work retail was a factor in my last suicide attempt. If I hear you say one fucking word about retail workers playing the victim I will personally break every bone in your body. Fuck You.

[cherie-doll]

Hey Cherie!! It’s been so long hehe I hope you’re well 💖

Can I request a How the COD men reacts when their s/o was called a nasty name like ‘stupid cunt’? Once again projecting myself a bit here, I always regret being stunned and not punching that idiot in the face 🙂‍↕️🫠

Hope you stay happy and blithe and healthy ✨✨

May you forever stay cheerful as well, my beloved <3

Speech like this just comes off as extremely repulsive and obscene to me and I feel deeply for anyone who's had to deal with this. I won't go into detail but just know whoever is reading that it deals with this sort of theme and please just scroll or avoid if you want.

𓏴𓏴 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves

Price

He does not let that fly in this base

Doesn't care if he gets called prude or mocked for not allowing it, he'd rather there be respect

Basic decency is something that is quite literally the bare minimum for soldiers

No way will he let you be dragged around with that filthy speech especially not when you're his s/o

He lets you know he'd gladly deal with it himself but you manage and tell him you'd like to take care of it

Ghost

He's not foreign to vulgar words or foul language but he isn't okay with it when it's used to degrade someone

He's heard it in public before but never has it been directed to you, seriously what was that guy thinking? That he could just say it in passing to you on the street and walk away like it was nothing?

Maybe he hadn't seen your tall masked boyfriend until he stopped and turned, heading to them and the look on their face

Eyes as big as saucers as Simon planned to rearrange their face

Soap

Quick, fiery temper strikes faster than a cobra

He's at their neck in an instant, trapping them in a death grip and staring daggers into them

He doesn't care that people are staring or that he could get the police called because he's shouting threats

And his anger won't subside afterwards, it leaves a stale feeling that has him crossing his arms and serious for the rest of the day

It had gotten him all riled up for the rest of the day that he's on the lookout for anyone else looking to insult you

Gaz

You've almost never seen Kyle get mad

Oh but he was furious, fire raging within him, knowing he was really about to do something when his jaw set hard and he went real silent

He didn't make a commotion, didn't shout or yell, just silently made his way over and took care of the problem

You didn't get to see what he did to the guy because he somehow made sure you didn't, and he wouldn't tell you either when you asked

Instead choosing to distract you with something else

Roach

He's not a fan of foul language and hates hearing it used even more but being around others so much he can't really avoid it

But the sentence that some idiot had the audacity to say to your face shocked him

How could they?

How much hatred could be within them that they're letting such words carelessly slip from their tongue?

He's worried about how you're feeling more than anything so he'll take you away before anything else could happen because he doesn't want you to show it hurt

Alejandro

Marking their grave as we speak

Don't be surprised if you see him already loading a gun

Oh boy, it's gonna be difficult to get him to calm down

He's cursing and throwing profanities much worse to the other person that they're already backing away fearing for their life

It would actually weigh down on him for a while and will get raging mad whenever he remembers

Rudy

Covering your ears immediately and glaring at the person who said that to you

He motions for someone else to take care of them while he asks if you're okay

Probably doesn't matter if you say yes or no, he focuses on not letting you dwell on those words

You're not those things and never will be, such words shouldn't be said to anyone else

And what do they know? He's shaking his head and sighing, doesn't know what to do with the anger

Phillip Graves

Yeah he allows cursing, hell he curses up a storm himself but this??

This is just unacceptable

This is the lowest form of using language incorrectly, the use of such words is as sickening as rotten food, can't imagine how much worse you would feel when it's said to your face

He's made sure to instill manners in his Shadows and he'll even send one home no matter how useful or great their skills are, but not everyone has had that great education and will freely no- carelessly use their speech for worse

Getting ready to drop a bomb on them or plan a quiet murder

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

⋆*·ﾟSo what if flowers wilt... misa x putellas!femreader

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

your sisters are left dealing with the aftermaths of what happened in the club, and you wake up to a flowery surprise.

or; part three of the as the flowers bloom, my heart does too universe

(no misa in this chapter. well... not in person, but in spirit... if you know, you know!)

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

"Are we sure she's home?" Olga asked before the three of them slipped inside the building with Alexia's key. The patter of their footsteps echoed against the walls of the stairwell of the old apartment building.

"Ale, I really don't think we should go in, in case she called someone over after all," Alba whined, dread filling her limbs with each step.

But Alexia stood firm, "I need to check on her." She pushed the key you'd given each of your sisters for emergencies into the lock and pushed the door open.

Your heels were discarded on the carpet in the hall, your clutch with its content spilled out on the little dresser. It was dark, aside from the little ball of warm light coming from the living room and casting shadows through the hallway. It was dead silent. Until it very clearly wasn't.

Alba immediately put her hands on her ears, afraid the high-pitched scream would be followed with sounds she could never un-hear, but let them drop again when she realised your sighs and cries weren't born from pleasure.

"You've ruined my life! You've ruined me! Fuck you!"

The dread of knowing you were talking to someone, and having a hunch on who you'd lash out on this way, made Alexia cross the hallway within seconds before she ran into the livingroom with Olga and Alba in tow, albeit hesitantly.

Alexia had her hands balled into fists, instinct taking over to protect her little sister from the monster that was making her cry this hearting-achingly. Frantically, she looked around for the perpetrator behind your pain, but there was only one person pacing the living room.

The sight before them absolutely tore them apart.

With your makeup smudged, your hair a mess and your face blotched and wet, your shoulders shaking and your chest heaving, you were pacing through your living room, your phone clutched tightly into your hand as you yelled into it.

A sob racked your body when you hurried out a blabbered sentence through your tears, and Alexia's stomach dropped. You paced around, yelling into the device, your Spanish blurring together in an incohesive mumble in the heat of your anger and sorrow. She half wondered how none of your neighbours had taken to calling the police with all this yelling after midnight, but she figured this had been the usual back when your ex had stayed with you and could start a fight about everything.

So, it didn't take a wild guess to figure out who was on the other side of the line.

Alexia rushed over, wrapping you in her arms, stopping you from pacing. Startled at having been pulled out of your state, you shrieked and fought her hold, but Alexia pushed you against her chest with great strength.

"Hey, hey, hey. Mira me- look at me. It's me. You're safe. We're here."

She tried to coax you down into her side on the couch, but your body was rigid and shaking. Alba walked over, unsurely, never having seen you in such a state and afraid any wrong move would ruin you even more. Her hand shook as she rubbed against your back, trying to help calm you down.

Alexia and Alba exchanged a look and Alba nodded, gently trying to pry the phone out of your iron grip— emphasis on trying.

"Give me your phone."

"No- I'm not done." You growled, turning away from Alba, but let Alexia pull it from your hand after your exhaustion set in.

Alexia further cradled you into her arms and held the phone out for Alba to take, who got ready to give the person on the other end of the line a big chunk of her mind, when she peeked at the screen and furrowed her brows.

"You're not even talking to anyone?" She questioned, seriously worrying about your sanity now.

"She hung up five minutes ago but I wasn't done." You heaved as Alexia shushed you again, helping you simmer down. With balled fists clutching onto your sister's shirt, you felt as if you were five again-- finding comfort in your older sister's embrace after you'd hurt yourself or got overwhelmed.

Alexia placed a kiss on your hair while Alba softly wiped the snot and tears away from your face with a napkin.

You could hear someone else move around your living room, the clinging of glasses and the faucet turning on before Olga appeared crouched before you. Embarrassment suddenly kicked in at the realisation it hadn't just been your sisters who'd seen you break.

"Drink something, Y/N/N." Her hand cupped your trembling one as she helped you take a few sips. You felt pathetic, but couldn't help but agree that the cold freshness of the water did help. The quiet moment didn't last long.

"Why would you accept her call?! Unless you called her yourself, but I sure hope that you weren't stupid enough to do that." Alba fired at you, but Alexia immediately gave her a stern look.

"Because she kept calling. I was afraid she'd come over if I didn't," You turned to Alexia, who was still cradling you, "Can you help me get new locks?" Alexia's heart broke at the look you gave her.

"We should've done that earlier. I'll call someone first thing tomorrow." She seemed to exchange a look with Olga, who nodded, "And I'm staying in the spare room tonight."

"No, you have a match tomorrow." Resolutely, Alba dropped her stuff and kicked off her heels, "But I'm staying."

"Well, I'm staying, too. End of discussion." Alexia huffed out, frustrated with herself that her tight schedule was trying to have her neglect her littlest sister when she needed her the most.

Immediately, you spoke, "No, I don't want Olga to have to be alone because of me." Alexia's chest tightened at how you spoke of yourself, at how your lips had snarled in distaste, as if you weren't worthy of the comfort the three of them were giving you.

Olga appeared before you again, gently dabbing at your hairline with a cold towel, "Y/N, you're family, you're important," She gave you a gentle smile, one clearly meant to calm you down and add some lightheartedness to the tension in your chest.

"I'm going to bring Olga home, then I'll come back, okay?" Alexia pulled you up and gently handed you over to Alba, who walked with you to your bedroom, helping your shaking form out of the dress you'd picked out for the club and into your most comfortable sleepwear. It was as if your tears had finally gone out of stock with the amount of emotional exhaustion you suddenly felt wash over you. You were but a mere vessel of yourself now. Empty and hollow. Exhausted to no end, no more room to feel.

Alba grabbed your chin and wiped your face with your makeup wipes, not looking into your puffy eyes that were staring at her, knowing it would break her resolve. She quickly turned around to throw the wipes away, her chin already wobbling.

"I got you a Tinder brunch date tomorrow." You mumbled out stoically, watching her eyes widen to twice their size as she quickly turned around.

"When did you-?!"

"When you gave me your phone." You wiped your stuffy nose with the back of your sleeve.

"Jesus, Y/N."

Your lip trembled, feeling more and more like a failure as your sister sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"She- She's pretty, likes dogs and has n-nice tattoos." You hiccuped through your old tears, suddenly feeling new ones well up, "I meant well..."

Alba rubbed her temples, knowing you were on the verge of another breakdown and that she needed to tread carefully.

"It's okay, Y/N/N."

"I just thought- I just want to see you happy and in love."

Alba finally let the tears fall. They were silent, but fell in rapid flow, "I don't really care about relationships right now. I'll be happy when you are. I promise you." She walked back over to your slumped form on the bed. You immediately latched onto her waist and hugged her, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to let the warmth and love of your sister's safe embrace engulf you.

After Alba changed into one of your oversized shirts, she pulled you in your bed and tucked you in safely, promising you she'd be back after cleaning up the mess you'd made in the hallway and living room.

Alba knew she shouldn't have left you by yourself, ready to wallow in your sorrow again and fall into the deep web of overflowing emotions and overthinking worries, but she knew that if she didn't step out to take a breather, she'd break down herself. The way you had trembled, the way your eyes had been filled with pure devastation and pain, had ruined her more than she would probably ever admit. The last time she'd seen your big, teary eyes look up at her like that, had been when your family had been in utter shambles. She took a big sigh and rolled her shoulders, sending away any negative feeling wanting to pull her down that rabbit hole again.

"Hey," Alba turned around, a stack of fallen magazines in her hands as Alexia stood in the doorway, taking off her jacket.

"Hey."

"How is she?"

"Alive," Alba sighed and threw the magazines back on their stack next to the couch. She stood still, frozen in place, staring at the magazines while she could hear Alexia throw her jacket over the barstool.

"Thank you," She turned around, facing her sister, "For being here."

Alexia gave her a tight-lipped smile, exactly sensing the deeper layer of Alba's thank you. Alexia was a great athlete, but that hadn't always coexisted next to being a great sister, leaving Alba to take over when she had been just as young herself. The fact that Alexia was here now, showing her they were doing this together, meant a whole lot to her.

Alexia walked over, wrapping Alba in a tight hug, feeling the younger woman starting to shake a bit. It was hard not to, so she let it happen as the tears fell.

"Oh, God-" Alba grumbled through a snicker and wiped her tears away, "Look at us."

Alexia smiled softly, knowing you weren't the only Putellas who was allergic to letting emotions show.

"It's okay." Alexia reassured.

Alba nodded, "Okay." She blew out a breath, "I'm not ready to go back in, but I don't want her to be alone."

"I'll go."

A soft knock on the door a while later had you look up, and Alexia's head appeared around the door, quietly peeking to see if you were still awake.

"Hey, soldier," She tried to smile to comfort you, but it looked more like a grimace the second she held the doorpost. Immediately, she whisked her hand away as if she got burned by the crack she felt in the wood, reminding her of bad times.

She didn't say a word after, only kicked off her shoes and threw on the hood of her Nike hoodie before burying herself beneath the mountain of covers Alba had covered you with. You sniffled and snuggled up to your older sister, much like old times during nights before a big day or after nightmares. She pulled you closer, planting a chaste kiss on your messy mop of hair. The silence was a little unsettling for her, because she knew that that meant you were busy thinking about a thousand things in your head. And, to be fair, so was she.

It was clear what you had been thinking about when you spoke,

"Please, don't tell Mama," You mumbled against her chest as her hand played with your locks of hair.

"You can't hide your pain from her forever."

"I don't want to worry her or make her sad again." You sounded like a child with a small vocabulary as you muttered, but who was still able to perfectly get her point across. Sometimes there was power in simplicity.

Alexia sighed, knowing how badly little-you had reacted to your own and your family's heartbreak after your father had passed. Despite your age, you had all these emotions, all these feelings you had no clue what to do with. Atop of that, you'd absorbed everyone else's emotions like a sponge, and often lashed out when it got you too overwhelmed. Your grades in school had dropped, you'd lost a few friends who hadn't understood how you were still so down after a few weeks and you had started to fight with Alba or be cross with your mother. It had been the start of your sometimes unbearable behaviour and had only added to your mother's agony instead of relieving her from it.

"But she's your mother, she wants to be there for you when you need her the most. Much like Alba and I want." She pulled you closer, inhaling your familiar scent—  the same shampoo scent she remembered you'd used ever since your pre-teens when it had lingered in the bathroom after you'd occupied it when she'd specifically requested to use it after training, "So don't push us out again, okay?"

You shook your head against her chest, not looking up when you heard your bedroom door creak open a moment later. The bed dipped behind you.

Alba spooned you as she got beneath the covers, arm slung around you while her hand reached out for Alexia's. The three of you lay there for a couple of minutes, in silence. Your bed wasn't large enough to feel like the gigantic bed of your parents which the three of you had often used as a trampoline or fallen asleep on to nap. Perhaps you had simply outgrown the size of your younger bodies, but it was a nostalgic kind of comforting nonetheless. With the three of you no longer living under the same room, these moments had been scarce as of late.

You tried to talk but no words came out, so you cleared your throat, "She might come tomorrow... or soon, you know?"

Simultaneously, your sisters's grip tightened around you.

"Let her come."

"I dare her to."

"She has something of mine, she wants to give back. That's partly why she called."

"Whatever could she have that she thinks is so important to you that she uses it as a bribe?"

Your lip trembled again when you stared at your chipped doorpost, realisation washing over you that your ex still had the one thing you had been yearning for—  the daisy and dolphin charm bracelet that your father had given you for the last birthday he'd been present at.

You pulled at Alexia's shirt, your sniffles drowning out against her chest. You could yell. She would forever be tethered to you so long as she had the one thing she knew you treasured the most. Your were too exhausted to bring it up, knowing you would have a lot of explaining to do once you broke that news, so you kept your mouth shut. And you preferred both your sisters very much out of jail, knowing what kind of mayhem could start once they learned of your secret. Besides, your body was depleted enough to fall into a deep sleep within ten minutes, now that you were in the safety of the arms of your sisters.

"Is she gone?" Alba whispered in the dark of your bedroom after your sniffles had stopped and your breathing seemed to have regulated.

"Yeah, out like a light."

Alba looked pensive for a little while. Alexia swallowed back the lump in her throat, knowing the tears would fall within the next hour, when Alba had fallen asleep too. That was if the girl could even get any sleep herself after this hell of a night. Alba's words earlier in the living room had meant a lot to her. Guiltily, she realised that Alba had done this more than she had—  often being the one to pick up the pieces of your heart whenever something had gone wrong... and you hadn't had the smoothest journey so far. She still blamed herself for not being around enough. Because if she'd been there, she could've seen right through you and would have known you weren't okay the second problems started to appear in your relationship.

Alba softly sat up in the bed, your arm still around her waist, "Imagine if you'd listened to me and we hadn't come here."

Alexia's voice rose, "Stop."

Alba pulled the duvet over your shoulders when you stopped breathing for a second, tucking you back in. Alexia felt relief when you didn't wake up.

"We'll need to do something, you know that, right? She needs us. She can't do this alone anymore, we can't let her."

"And we'll be there for her," Alba sighed, "No more idly waiting until she's ready. We were too nice to her about it before, trying to give her the space she wanted."

"We'll be there for her every step she needs to hold our hands." Alexia nodded, sealing the promise, "Wether that's driving her to therapy, or burning all the shit of the she-devil that's still lying around here. I'm sure I've missed some. And I'll call maintenance tomorrow, for a new lock."

"I'll call her friends and take her to mami."

"You really think we should tell mom? She'll be worried sick. Literally."

"She might be twenty-four but right now she needs her mom as much as she did when she was five."

"Mami's going to be upset."

"And she'll be even more upset if we keep it from her."

Alexia nodded and shuffled around to make herself comfortable, then turned around to your sleeping form. She leaned over, first planting a kiss on Alba's forehead before planting one on yours,

"I love you. Both of you."

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

Alexia hated the yawn that left her, the third one in barely two minutes. The rational part of her brain knew that not having been able to sleep a wink would surely ruin her entire day, and she had an important day ahead, but she couldn't think of that right now as her littlest sister lay exhaling soft puffs of air next to her. She softly brushed your hair out of your face and smiled, realising you were wearing an old and washed out jersey— her name on the back long gone. In your sleeping form and without make-up on, all snuggled up under your covers, you looked no day past twelve years-old. It was an endearing moment after a horrible night.

Alexia's eyes then fell on Alba, who was splayed about uncomfortably and snoring softly. At least she'd gotten some sleep, albeit without sheets covering her most of the night, but that was mostly thanks to your hogging. Knowing the two of you deserved all the sleep you could get, she quietly shuffled out of bed and peered out of the curtains. She pulled her phone off the charger on the nightstand but jumped when two notifications came in.

Alba stirred and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, Alexia's apologetic smile meeting her as she adjusted to the light that peered through the curtains.

"Wha-" She yawned, "What time is it?"

"Seven."

"Wow- that's way too early for me." Alba yawned again, sensing the exhaustion in Alexia's voice, "You didn't sleep, did you?"

"I'll take a nap later on the bus." She lied, knowing there was no way she could find any sleep with the worries currently playing on her mind.

Alba felt chilly and rubbed her arms, only now realising what had happened. She didn't know why she was still surprised, she should've expected to wake up with only one of her legs draped under the covers. This time, she couldn't find the courage to pull and pry the sheets you'd hogged off you and over herself again. She scooted closer to your sleeping form, pulled you against her and tried to find some warmth in your arms, tugging Alexia back down as well. Your eyelids were red and swollen and your cheeks blemished and flushed from all the tears you'd shed. A memory flashed through her mind, and it immediately hit her with the force of a car crash—  a much younger-you clinging to Alba, fisting her shirt in your hands and your body shaking with sobs. Back then, she'd long given up on trying to console you after having realised you were so caught up in your heart ache, that your older sister's muttered words went straight over your head. She had just held you... had squeezed when she felt your body shake with another wave of sobs, and cupped your head and held it safely against her shoulder. It had proved to work, back then... her quiet comfort. There had been times where all Alba had wanted to do was exchange you with one of her friend's younger siblings, who had to be far easier to live with and seemed way cooler. She still remembered the plenty diary passages where she'd begged the universe to rid her of her annoying little sister... but you needed her, and she had to admit, she needed you just as badly. Despite your grievances and quarrels, you had found the comfort you so needed in your sister, and she had let you hold onto her like a lifeline, admittedly using the opportunity to let out a set of tears herself. The amount of times the two of you had fought, had given the other the silent treatment for days until either she or you had shown up in the other's room deep in the night with teary sleepy eyes to sleep with the other had brought you closer. It had unified you and advanced your relationship from young siblings fighting over toys or clothes to maturing ones, realising there was strength and love to be found in a sibling.

Alexia knew you had envied her for some time, jealous of the escape she found in football. How she could throw herself into her passion and put everything on pause during those ninety minutes. How she could take her grief and turn it into fiery passion and dedication, while you were unable to do anything but let it simmer until an inevitable outburst. She'd sensed the innocent resentment in your eyes the second she'd seen it, and taken you with her to the local fields in your neighbourhood. She'd given you some of her old gear that would fit and switched from mindless passing and shooting to tiny lessons of agility and dribbles. But you hadn't taken to the sport as well as she had. It wasn't second nature to you, and each time the ball didn't hit the net or it bounced off your feet in an entirely different direction as you'd meant, your frustration would only grow. Still, despite being young, you realised she was taking time out of her busy day, time she probably much rather spent resting after all the training, to be with you. She might not have been the best at comforting you with words like your mama, or with tough love and eventual quality time like Alba, but she was there... making an effort. That counted for something, and meant a great deal. After many frustrated growls and kicks, and after your energy had depleted, she would sit with you on the grass, overlooking the rest of the fields. Her company was comforting, her presence grounding, as if all would stay all right as long as your big sister was right there with you. And even now, she needed you to know that it would.

As you lied there now between your sisters, years later, needing the protection and comfort you'd so clearly lacked the past few months, Alexia and Alba remembered the promise they'd made all those years ago when they'd first held you. They squeezed tighter from both your sides, not caring that they could risk waking you from your slumber. They just needed you to know they were there. They would always be.

A tired groan slipped past your lips. You felt a pounding headache coming on.

"No."

Alba sniggered, "To what? We haven't said anything."

"Yet." You mumbled against her, the deepest sigh leaving you as you felt Alexia snuggle closer into you from behind. Your nose was stuffy, your throat itched and your eyes felt like they'd grown the size of melons. It all made reality hit way too soon. You wished you could have stayed trapped in your bubble of slumber for a little longer, but knew that that bubble would have to pop eventually.

"What's for breakfast, superstar?" Alba asked, receiving a noncommittal hum in return.

"I happen to remember that flower, eggs and milk were on the grocery list last week," Alexia chided, nudging your sides, "Is someone hungry for tortitas?"

Your sisters waited expectantly, giving each other a victorious smile as you peeled open one of your eyes.

"I'm not getting out of bed," You huffed out, tiredly, hiding your face from the light that had seeped in through the room.

Alexia forcefully, yet playfully, grabbed your head in her hands and planted the fattest kiss with the loudest smack.

"You don't have to. We'll eat here."

"And can we watch-"

"Whatever your current celebrity crush is in?" Alexia laughed, knowing you too well, "Definitely, we can."

"Of course," Alba rolled her eyes, and joined the laughter, playfully planting a kiss just as wet on your forehead before following Alexia out the room.

"Wait-" Your sleep was gone as soon as guilt ate away at you. You pushed yourself up, "Your date, and your football match!"

"I'll be able to stick around for at least one tortita." Alexia reassured.

"And I asked for a rain check on my date. She really is cute, by the way," Alba winked.

Your sisters left the room, leaving you to yourself in some sort of a daze. Your mind was still too fried and tired to let it properly process all that had happened the past twelve hours, let alone the past few weeks. The one prominent thing that rose to the surface, was the realisation and peace that came with it, that whatever would happen next, you'd have your two sisters by your side. You heard their muffled voices through the door, pans clattering against each other and someone stumbling into something. Oh, how grateful you were to have them in your life.

As Alba started to rummage through your kitchen and get to work, Alexia started to clean a little of the mess still lying around. She opened your windows, organised all the things you had lying about in your bathroom and put a bundle of clothes in the washing. Her face turned to one of surprise when she recognised the familiar tiny jewellery box lying opened and forgotten between some makeup brushes on your bathroom counter. She recognised the blue velvet box with the name of the local jeweller of Mollet del Vallès scribbled inside within an instant. Her father had given each of his daughters a charm bracelet on their eleventh birthday, his lucky number. She still had the one he'd given her—  it had tiny cleats, footballs and the FC Barcelona crest as charms. She knew yours had daisies and dolphins, two obsessions of you at the time. Only, the box was empty. It was strange, for she knew it was too valuable to you to wear it out and about every day and risk losing it. There was only one day you would wear it, and... well, that day had been turned into an even more horrible one this year. Perhaps you had just given it another place, or clung to it in comfort after the events of the past few weeks. She made a note to ask you about it later.

She rose her brows in surprise when the buzz signalling someone was ringing your number downstairs rang through your apartment. Your building wasn't modern enough for her to see who was asking for your attention through some device, and she felt dreadful when the thought of it being your ex crossed her mind. She pressed the button of the intercom and it immediately crackled to life,

"Yes?"

She clenched and unclenched her hand into a fist, praying this day wouldn't start out horribly already. She sighed in relief when a male voice croaked through the tiny device on the wall.

"Delivery for Y/N Putellas."

Alexia rolled her eyes, knowing you liked to splurge, a little too often. Then again, if retail therapy was what had kept you up and running like a normal human being... and if you could afford it, then she'd gladly look the other way.

"I'll be down in a minute."

You had left the warmth of your bed and tiptoed into the kitchen as soon as the smell of something burning wafted into your bedroom.

"Alba-" You yelled through the apartment, "If this place burns down I will kill you!"

"Sorry!"

"Use the damn hood!"

"I hate the sound!" You could practically see Alba roll her eyes, "It's so obnoxious."

Not trusting your sister enough in the kitchen, you'd pulled yourself out of bed. The blanket you'd draped over you swept the floor behind you. It showed only your face as you walked up to your sister in the kitchen.

"The first one's always a mess." Alba justified while scraping the tortita off the pan and right into your trashcan.

You flicked on the hood above the stove and watched her drip half of the spoon of batter onto your counter, "Mama always does one at a time."

"Well, I don't have the luxury of time today."

You perched yourself onto the edge of your couch, staring at Alba, gut being punched once again. You'd half hoped, well, expected, that she would stick around now that she didn't have her brunch date to get to. You didn't want to be alone again. Not only did the prospect of being left with your thoughts worry you, you also worried about a certain someone arriving to your doorstep before maintenance could give you a new lock.

"Oh."

Alba immediately turned around, "No, no, no- I'm staying with you," She reassured with a smile, "We just have a full schedule ahead of us."

Groaning, you fell back onto the couch.

"I don't want to do anything, Alba."

"So I should just tell your friends you no longer want to see them... and tell mama she's cooking for one instead of three tonight? You've rotten inside that bed of yours long enough now. You're done with locking yourself away from the world now."

You knew better than to argue with your sister when she used her tone of finality. So you laid there, on your couch, inspecting your very boring ceiling.

You were relieved to see Alexia appear from out of the hallway, but what she held in her hand made you sit up in an instant— a large bouquet of flowers. You recognised a bunch of white peonies and pastel pink roses. In the middle of it was one large red dahlia.

"Hey, I thought we'd stay in bed?" Alexia wondered, walking over as if she wasn't carrying a bouquet thrice the size of her head.

"Oh, you really didn't have to do, but thank you." Alba played along, eyes too focused on the flowers and not on the pan in front of her while she tried to flip a pancake, making it crumble.

"It's for you," Alexia put the flowers out for you to grab, the fresh scent of them immediately filling the room.

"You guys got me these?" Your chin started to wobble again, feeling overwhelmed by the sweet surprise of your sisters, when Alexia swiftly shook her head.

"N-No," She muttered out, a little panicked, not wanting you to start your rollercoaster of emotions all over again, "They were just delivered to you. By a local florist."

Interest now piqued, Alba joined, "Who sent them then?"

Alexia eyed you, hoping this wasn't the start of some stalker you'd gotten yourself by inviting mere strangers into your home and bed. God knew she couldn't deal with anything like that atop of everything else. Alba warily inspected the bouquet for a note, a scribbled message on the wrapping paper—  anything to prove this wasn't a weak attempt from your ex to mend things.

Tears prickling in your eyes, your voice was shaking as you muttered, "Why would someone sent me flowers? I don't deserve-"

Alexia's features hardened as she crouched to get to your level, "Y/N, no. Just, no. No, no, no. Look at me- hey, listen," You found the eyes of your sister, "You do. You deserve all the love in the world and you might not believe me now, but you do." She pushed the bouquet against your chest, "And it seems we're not the only ones whose life you lift up simply by being there, or else they wouldn't have surprised you with this, so we're not being biased as your sisters."

Alba coughed, playfully, and lovingly brushed her fingers through your tangled bed hair, "Just the tiniest bit biased though. You can be an incredible pain in the ass."

Alexia shot her a look.

Suddenly, you jumped up, leaving your sisters confused to your abrupt leave.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going to look for a vase- Oh, my-" Their heads whipped to the stove, where another pancake was ready for the bin again.

"Alba," You groaned, "When will you learn you multitask like shit?"

Alba couldn't help but laugh as you ran around the kitchen like a headless chicken, one hand holding the bouquet preciously to your chest as if it was a newborn baby, the other flipping Alba's concoction in the trash again.

"Wait- did you two even put eggs in this?"

Alexia and Alba gave each other an awkward look, realising they'd forgotten that. But forgetting an egg or two was always better than not being there for you.

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆.🖤

this has been waiting in my drafts to be published for three months now, hope you enjoy!

[wcters]

𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗞 𝗙𝗔𝗦𝗧

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count: 770+

summary: you let him pretend, just for a moment. pretend that it would last forever

request: hello!!!!! i love your work sm 🩷🌟 was wondering if you could write something with oscar ?? have a nice dayy 😽| @81evermore

warnings: established relationships, pda, some angst | i knwo it’s a little short but i was got the request and was listening to 5sos, why not make an imagine with oscar based on a 5sos song???

Oscar knew it was wrong, he knew it was irresponsible, but as soon as his eyes met yours, it’s like his rational brain went out the window. The adrenaline was like nothing he’d ever felt before ━━ not like driving at hundreds of kilometres per hour, not like making split second decisions that could make it break him, nothing. He could feel the grooves in your hand as you clasped his, your hands moulding together and filling up the empty spaces. He could feel the air going past every strand of hair on his head, and he could imagine the smile on your face as you both ran. It was exhilarating.

Oscar was supposed to be perfect in every way ━━ polite, nice, professional, put together. You let him live a life that wasn’t his, it gave him an escape, let him imagine what life could be, should be. A house overlooking the ocean, couple of kids, a dog, maybe. But he knew it wouldn’t happen. But you let him pretend . . . Even if it’s just for a night.

Laughs tumbled past your pursed lips as you ran, yelling at him to ‘hurry up!’ and ‘come on!’ every once and a while. Where were you even going? He had no idea. He couldn’t really register anything besides you and the lights blurring past him as he ran. Right now he was thankful he had the stamina he did.

You randomly stopped, Oscar almost stumbling into you. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head. From what he could see, he assumed it was a lookout somewhere in the city. He could see the ocean, waves overlapping each other and the sun reflecting on the water. “Surprise.” You whispered, afraid you would ruin whatever was happening. He hummed, “where are we?” “Lookout. No one really knows about this place ━━ I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen someone else here.” He was right, and smirked at that.

You let the two of you bask in silence for a little bit. You wanted to know what he was thinking, but you let him have a moment to himself. You knew with his career he didn’t really get to do that. You rested your hands on top of his which were placed around your hips and started ti quietly sway. It was a habit of yours. It was like your mind and body were running at one hundred percent, twenty-four seven, and this resulted in you always moving. Oscar didn’t mind because he had the same thing. Though his brain wasn’t active all the time, he was still so used to the adrenaline and fast-paced life he had, which resulted in the same thing. He followed you, swaying back and fourth.

It stayed like for a little before you got bored at let go, releasing yourself from his hold. You turned to face him and held out your hand to him. “What?” He had an eyebrow quirked up, smile tugging at his lips.

“Dance with me.” You smiled while laughing lightly, and Oscar swore he could listen to that noise forever. He could imagine life with you in ━━ him chasing you and your kids, cooking in the kitchen. Oscar almost shook himself out of his train of thought. He was too deep, but he don’t care. “Okay.” He grabbed your hand and twirled you around, pulling you towards him. You leaned your head against his chest, his heartbeat familiar and comforting against your ear. “This is nice.” You whispered. “It is, isn’t it?”

The two of you took turns twirling the other around, though it was hard for you because you were shorter than Oscar ━━ though not by much. Laughs broke the stale night air as you two danced, surrounded by love and unsaid words. You both knew that this would eventually end, but that was a talk for another night.

The unsaid was a comfort, knowing that it didn’t have to end yet, but it was also a reminder. Reminder to Oscar that you couldn’t have the life together he and you wanted. No big backyard with a play set and barbecue, no nursery and kids rooms filled with toys, not the little bits of the other scattered throughout the house, none of your singing lulling him to sleep and waking him up . . . Nothing.

You two were stuck in this moment forever. Just you. No formula one, no school, no stress, just the feeling of the curves of your hands and bodies, the smiles and dimples, the essence of the person. In this moment, you didn’t have to face the inevitable.

[aliendes]

SVT Reaction to you flinching during an argument

warnings: mentions of arguments and flinching during an argument, not descriptive, mentions of past trauma (?) maybe during one part, very tame and kinda fluffy, attempt at humour? man idk... let me know if I missed anything

remember my requests are OPEN for seventeen!

Seungcheol (S.Coups)

The softest man alive, fight me, I will die on this hill. Have you seen the video of Minghao cupping Cheol’s cheek and he instantly crumbles? Yeah, Cheol would immediately see you flinch or even step back away from him and he’d fold. He would never hurt you, you know that, he knows that, everyone who knows you both knows that. He literally worships the ground you walk on. But he can get heated in an argument with loud words and huge hand gestures, which might scare you. He would immediately lose the ability to be angry, or annoyed, or whatever at you and instantly start apologizing, cooing at you, and would spend the night babying you within an inch of your life. “You know I would never, ever do anything to hurt you, right princess?”

Jeonghan

Now this man can be mean, I can feel it in my bones. But he would never, ever, ever, hurt you. He is so gentle and kind, and while he can definitely have some sassy moments and might even say some things that can come off as rude, he would never in a million years raise a hand to you. If you are flinching because of him it’s probably because he’s making large hand gestures trying to get his point across, but as soon as he noticed he’d go all wide-eyed, drop his hands immediately, and completely forget what you were even arguing about. He’d make sure you allowed it before holding you and cuddling you the rest of the night, whispering sweet things into your ear as he rocked you. 

Joshua

Another gentle giant. I can’t see him even getting animated enough to make you flinch, but if you did for whatever reason he is instantly caving and probably trying to make himself seem smaller to calm you down. Whether that means getting on his knees, sitting on the couch, or even laying down to continue the conversation, he’ll do it. But he will want to continue the conversation, though in a less heated way. Would run his hands through your hair, hold your hands and kiss your knuckles, and stare into your eyes as you spoke, telling him how you’re feeling as you both try to resolve whatever the fight was about in the first place. 

Jun

Another one I can’t see actually making someone flinch, he is just too soft for his own good. But if you did flinch away from him during an argument he would be so confused by what just happened, maybe to the point where he’s looking behind him to make sure something else didn’t frighten you. Would end up losing his train of thought and reach out for you to comfort you. “Baby, you know I’d never hurt you!” Would probably pout at you after he made sure you were ok. 

Soonyoung (Hoshi)

Another gentle man with loud words and big gestures. He is part of BSS and all of BSS can get chaotic and hyper. That said, he seems the type to be pretty quiet/docile during an actual argument. The only time I can see him accidentally scaring you is if he gets really heated and shouts/yells. If this ever happened he would see you flinch and immediately cool his anger. It would be like a switch is flipped. Would lower his voice, whispering to you to make sure you’re ok, and if you cried he would probably end up crying with you in hushed tones. 

Wonwoo

He’s tall, and he’s broad, and he understands that he is much larger than you. He usually takes this into account during arguments specifically to avoid this from happening. Will usually sit down when arguing with you for this reason. The moment you flinch or try to move away from him he would probably get very steel-faced, berating himself for not being more mindful. You might take this as him being angry at you, which he would immediately crumble at. He’s not angry anymore, in fact, he just wants to make you feel loved. Will kick himself for the rest of the night and you might end up being the one to comfort him. “I feel like the worst boyfriend on the planet.”

Jihoon (Woozi)

The only member that I cannot see ever making you flinch, in any situation. Mans so calm and collected, if you are arguing with him he's probably sitting there with his arms crossed completely chill. 

Seokmin (DK)

Another member of BSS and loud boy squad. He’s also pretty tall and muscular so if you ever flinched away from him during an argument I can see it resulting in immediate tears on his end. He would feel so incredibly awful for making you think he would ever hurt you that it absolutely breaks his heart. He would try to make himself smaller, tears in his eyes as he apologizes and makes you understand that he was just trying to get his point across. Might even act more subdued in his actions for the next few days until you promise him that you weren’t really scared of him. Sulky baby. 

Mingyu

Another huge baby with a heart of gold. Because of his size alone I can see this happening with him if he is super heated or if the argument isn’t going his way and he’s trying to defend himself. Lot’s of arm movements. The moment you flinch his eyes are watering with unshed tears and he’s holding onto you for dear life. Hugging, kissing, cuddling you, completely forgets what the argument was about. You would end up reassuring him in bed later that you admire his size and strength so he doesn’t feel bad about himself for the next few days. Sulky baby #2.

Minghao (The8)

Can come off as cold and calculated, but I think this man is one of the most loving and romantic in the entire group (fight me on this). He’s also very level headed, but on the off chance that you do end up flinching during an argument, he would be super analytic about it. “Hey, come here. Sit down with me and tell me what’s going through your head.” Would make you sit with him, would rub his knuckles over your arm or shoulders as you spoke with tears in your eyes. Would make you talk it out with him before comforting you if that is what you need. Makes sure that you understand he would never hurt you and only wants to make sure whatever issues you had were resolved before you went to bed. 

Seungkwan

Final member of BSS and definitely a loud, sassy boy. You’ve all seen him argue on national television before, so this is definitely something that could happen in your relationship. However, the moment you are flinching away from him he is pouting at you (you know the face) and looking at you with those pretty wide eyes like he doesn’t understand what just happened (he doesn’t). Wants to immediately figure out why exactly you flinched, will do whatever he can to make you feel loved and appreciated in that moment, but will definitely need reassurance later that you know he would never hurt you. Sulky baby #3. 

Vernon

Might not even realize you flinched at first. Would be too in his head talking through whatever it was that you are arguing about that he doesn’t realize what has happened until you have tears in your eyes. “Baby? Was it something I said?” Poor baby will feel awful when you explain it to him. Maybe you have had bad experiences in your past that make you more scared when in arguments. Would listen and talk through it with you and promise to not make the same mistakes next time you argue, if you do. Would feel so bad after you resolved it until you reassured him that it’s ok. 

Chan (Dino)

Precious baby doesn’t always realize when he’s getting loud or gesturing widely. When you flinched he would stop dead in his tracks, rethinking all his life decisions. You could literally see the calculations taking place behind those pretty boba eyes as he figures out exactly what movement he made to make you flinch. Would promise you and himself he would never do it again and would want to cuddle with you so closely the rest of the evening that he wouldn’t even want to let you go to get ready for bed. Literally clinging to your back like a koala.

[jaeyunluvbot]

ilysm (i love you spider-man)

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 mark lee x fem!reader, spidermark, friends to lovers, high school au, spiderman!mark

word count 𝟅𝟈 11.2k

NOT PROOFREAD

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

High school wasn’t glamorous. It was 6:00 a.m. alarms, piles of homework, and gym class—a.k.a. your least favorite subject. So, when Coach called for volleyball that day, you sighed and shuffled towards the court like a prisoner headed for trial.

The gym smelled faintly of sweat and old rubber soles, the harsh lights making it hard to focus. You stood by the bleachers, tying your sneakers when Mark stumbled in, late as usual. His hair stuck up in odd places like he’d rolled out of bed and made a mad dash here. Classic.

“Lee!” Coach barked, tossing him a red jersey. “You’re on Team B. Let’s go!”

Mark jogged over, muttering apologies as he passed you. “Hey,” he said with a sheepish grin, his voice slightly breathless.

“Hey,” you replied, amused. “Rough morning?”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled, pulling the jersey over his head.

Mark was… Mark. Sweet, funny, always a little awkward. You’d known him since middle school, and while he wasn’t exactly the athletic type, you’d never really cared. You’d bonded over you bonded over your mutual interests, anyways, and volleyball was not on the list.

The game started, and you hung back like always, hoping to avoid the ball as much as possible. Mark, however, was front and center.

When the ball came his way, you winced, expecting it to bounce off his face or fly past him entirely. But instead, Mark jumped—higher than seemed possible—and spiked the ball with enough force to make it slam into the court.

Your jaw dropped.

“Whoa!” someone yelled.

Even Coach looked impressed. “Nice hit, Lee! Where’d you learn that?”

Mark shrugged, his face slightly flushed. “Lucky shot.”

As the game went on, Mark’s “luck” didn’t run out. He dove to the floor to save a ball, slid across the court with the grace of a pro, and even managed to block a spike that seemed way out of reach.

By the time the game ended, the entire class was buzzing.

“Did Mark join a secret volleyball league or something?”

You couldn’t help but grin, though your curiosity was starting to bubble over. Since when could he do any of this?

During a break, you found him leaning against the wall, gulping down water like he’d just run a marathon.

“Since when did you play volleyball like that?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

He nearly choked, coughing and spluttering as his face turned red. “I—uh, I’ve been practicing?”

“Practicing?” you echoed, unimpressed. “Mark, the last time we played volleyball, you tripped over the net and nearly took me down with you.”

He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… things change?”

You squinted at him, unconvinced. There was something different about him lately—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Before you could press him further, Coach’s whistle blew, calling everyone back to the court. Mark shot you a quick smile before jogging off, leaving you standing there, your curiosity growing by the second.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

As the day went on, you started noticing more little things about him. In English class, he caught a pen mid-air without even looking, like he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Nice reflexes, Spidey,” you joked, nudging him.

Mark laughed nervously, shoving the pen into his bag. “Just got lucky,” he said quickly, avoiding your gaze.

Then, in chemistry, he managed to grab a beaker you almost knocked off the table before it shattered on the floor. His hand shot out so fast you barely saw it.

“Whoa,” you said, staring at him. “How’d you do that?”

Mark shrugged, his cheeks turning red. “I dunno, instincts?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could say anything, the teacher called for everyone’s attention.

By lunchtime, you were keeping a closer eye on him, trying to figure out what was going on. He seemed more jittery than usual, like he was trying to avoid drawing attention to himself but failing miserably.

When someone dropped their tray in the cafeteria, sending food flying, Mark’s head snapped toward the commotion before anyone else had even noticed. He looked like he was about to jump out of his seat before he caught himself and forced a laugh.

“You good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, totally,” he said, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Just… startled, that’s all.”

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it slide. For now.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different about Mark. He’d clearly changed somehow, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly was different.

And as much as you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t help but wonder: what was he hiding?

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Your parents had been asleep for hours by the time Mark came over that night. It was one of those quiet, lazy Friday nights where the two of you didn’t need to talk much. Just snacks, a couple of blankets, and a well-worn stack of DVDs.

You weren’t supposed to have people over this late—especially not boys—but it was Mark. If your parents knew it was him, they’d probably be fine with it. Still, sneaking him in through your fire escape gave the night a little thrill.

The two of you were huddled on your bed, knees bumping each other as the movie played on the TV. It was some action flick Mark had picked out, but your attention was divided between the screen and him. He looked more relaxed now than he had at school, though every now and then, you caught him glancing toward the door, like he was expecting someone to barge in.

“You good?” you asked softly, nudging him with your elbow.

“Huh? Yeah, totally,” he said, flashing you a sheepish grin. “Just… didn’t expect him to survive that fall.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “It’s a superhero movie, Mark. No one ever dies unless it’s to make the hero angsty.”

He chuckled at that, leaning back into the couch. “Fair point.”

As the movie went on, the two of you started whispering back and forth, your voices barely louder than the hum of the TV.

“Okay, that was so fake,” you said, gesturing at the screen as the hero miraculously dodged a bullet.

Mark smirked. “You’re telling me this is where you draw the line?”

“I have standards!”

He shook his head, stifling a laugh, when suddenly his posture stiffened. His head tilted slightly, and his hand reached out, brushing your arm.

“Hey,” he whispered, his tone urgent. “Be quiet for a second.”

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“Shh,” he insisted, sitting up straighter. His eyes darted toward the hallway, and he moved to hide on the ground next to the bed, out of view of your doorway.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, a little too loudly.

Before he could answer, the door creaked open, and your mom peeked in, her expression equal parts annoyed and groggy.

“Y/N,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s almost midnight. Keep it down, okay?”

Your eyes went wide. “Oh! Sorry, Mom. I’ll quiet down.”

She lingered for a moment, her gaze sweeping the room. You held your breath, praying she wouldn’t notice the second pair of sneakers tucked gently away next to your your bedside table. Thankfully, she just nodded and shuffled back down the hallway.

The second the coast was clear, you turned to Mark, your heart still racing.

“How the hell did you know she was coming?” you hissed, keeping your voice low this time.

Mark scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “I, uh… I just… I don’t know, I guess I heard her footsteps?”

“Footsteps?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Mark, I didn’t hear anything. How did you hear her through a closed door? And while we were talking, no less?”

He let out a nervous laugh, shrugging a little too casually. “Maybe I’ve just got good ears?”

“Good ears my ass,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You’ve been weird all day. First in gym, then in class, and now this. What’s going on with you?”

Mark froze for a second, his expression flickering between panic and guilt. “Nothing! I swear, it’s—nothing. You’re imagining things.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, okay” you said sarcastically, not realizing how close you were to the truth.

Mark’s laugh came out a little too forced this time. “Anyways, we should probably finish the movie, it’s getting late.”

You didn’t push the issue—for now. But as the movie played on, you couldn’t help but glance at him, your curiosity growing stronger with every passing minute.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

After your slightly strange movie night, everything feels... normal. You’re at school with Mark again, cracking jokes about your teachers and helping each other survive the monotony of class. 

After school, you walk home together as usual. Mark’s quiet, more so than usual, and you figure he’s just tired. He always seems tired these days.

"Are you okay?" you ask, nudging his arm.

He flinches slightly, then forces a smile. "Yeah, I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well last night."

You nod, though his answer doesn’t quite satisfy you.

Later that evening, you decide to take a quick walk to clear your head. The streets are quiet, the orange glow of the streetlights casting long shadows. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment when you hear shouting—a man yelling for help. Your heart pounds as you turn the corner and see a masked figure—Spider-Man—swinging into action.

It’s like watching a movie come to life. He moves with incredible speed and grace, disarming the attacker in seconds. The victim stumbles to safety, and Spider-Man barely pauses before disappearing into the night.

You stand frozen, your mind racing. Spider-Man isn’t supposed to be real—not in your world, not in your life. And yet, here he is, saving people in your neighborhood.

When you finally make it home, Mark texts you almost immediately:

Hey, you okay?

The timing feels weirdly coincidental.

Yeah... just saw something crazy on my walk. Spider-Man.

There’s a pause before he replies.

Mark: Whoa, no way. He’s around here?

You: Guess so. It was... surreal.

Mark: Sounds scary. You’re sure you’re okay?

Something about the way he asks makes you hesitate. He sounds so concerned, almost like he’s talking to himself.

You: Yeah. Are YOU okay?

Mark: Me? Of course. Just checking on you. I saw your location said you were outside.

You chastise yourself for not remembering he had your location. You’d have probably done the same thing if his location said he was outside in the middle of the night. Though, you’d never had the habit of checking his.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Saturday nights are sacred.

Since middle school, you and Mark have had this unspoken rule: no matter what, Saturday nights are yours. Whether it’s binging your favorite show, building Legos, or debating which movie series is superior, it’s the highlight of your week.

You’ve been looking forward to tonight all day. After tossing a blanket over the couch and setting out snacks—chips for you, candy for him—you settle in, phone in hand, waiting for Mark’s familiar knock.

He’s usually punctual, arriving right when he says he will. But tonight, the minutes stretch into an hour, and he’s still not there.

You glance at your phone. No texts, no missed calls.

You: Where are you? I’m starting to think you forgot about me.

No response.

You frown but try not to overthink it. Maybe he got caught up with something. You wait another fifteen minutes, then send another text.

You: Mark?? You better not be ditching me for one of your dumb guy friends.

Still nothing. Anxiety begins to creep in, though you try to push it aside. He’s probably just running late.

An hour later, you’ve run out of chips and excuses for his absence.

You: I’m officially mad at you.

By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve all but given up. You leave one last text before tossing your phone onto the coffee table.

You: Hope you’re okay. Call me when you see this.

Sleep doesn’t come easily that night. Your mind races with possibilities—some silly, some serious. Is he okay? Did something happen? You brush them off as anxious thoughts running wild and try to fall asleep.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The next morning, your phone buzzes with a message from Mark.

Mark: I’m so sorry, Y/N. I got sick out of nowhere last night. Took some medicine and completely passed out. I didn’t even see your texts until now.

You exhale, relieved but annoyed.

You: SICK? You ditched me because you were sick? I’m so offended.

Mark: I’m sorryyyyy. 😭 I’ll make it up to you, I swear.

You: You better be glad I didn’t watch our show without you.

Mark: You wouldn’t dare.

You: Guess you’ll never know. 

His usual playfulness makes you smile, but the knot in your chest hasn’t completely loosened. You know it’s dumb, but a small part of you wonders if there’s more to the story. Mark never misses your hangouts. You’re always the first to know if something’s wrong. And as much as you want to believe his excuse, the insecurity that’s been gnawing at you for years whispers otherwise.

He’s your only real friend, and deep down, you’re terrified of losing him. You’re terrified that one day he’ll outgrow you, that he’ll find someone cooler, funnier, or just... better.

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. Mark said he was sick, and you believe him. There’s no reason to think otherwise. But as you put your phone down and get ready for the day, you can’t help but feel like something isn’t adding up.

You stare at your phone, willing it to buzz with a new message from Mark, but it stays silent. You’ve already texted him a few times this afternoon, and while he usually responds by now, today it’s been almost two hours since your last message. Your thumb hovers over your screen, ready to send something, but you stop yourself. Maybe he’s busy. It’s fine. It’s not like you need him to text you back right away, right?

But you can’t shake the growing discomfort in your chest.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Ever since his message about getting sick a few weeks ago, he’s been a little off. Sure, he’d apologized for missing your hangout, but now, it’s like nothing has changed. During the day, he’s the same—always goofy, friendly, and acting normal when you see him at school. But by the time night falls, he’s almost always gone—his responses slow, often one-word answers, and sometimes, he doesn’t respond at all. And this has gone on for almost a month now.

The more time passes, the more you can’t help but feel like he’s distancing himself from you, like you’ve somehow become a burden on him. You try to tell yourself you’re overthinking it. He’s probably just busy, right? But deep down, there’s a voice whispering that maybe he’s just getting tired of you. You wish you could ignore it, but the insecurity festers, eating away at your confidence with every minute he doesn’t reply.

By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve already sent him two more texts, no response. You try to sleep, but your mind is spinning. Is he with someone else? You hate that thought, but it keeps creeping in. Maybe he’s found new people to hang out with. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You throw your phone aside, frustrated with yourself, with him, and with the situation. Why do I care so much? You’ve never been the type to need constant validation from someone else, but with Mark? It’s different. You’ve always been there for each other, always shared your time. You didn’t need anything more from him, but now… it feels like you’re losing him.

Then, you get a message.

It's from Mark. Your heart jumps into your throat as you open it. “Hey, sorry. I got totally wrapped up in homework, we still on for tomorrow?”

You read it over and over, but something feels off. It’s a good excuse—too good, maybe. You want to believe him, but part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding you now. He was so there for you, always texting and hanging out after school. But now? It feels like he’s just gone, like a ghost. You don’t know what to believe.

“Can’t, sorry. I have plans with Giselle.”

There’s a pause before his reply comes through. You can almost hear the indifference in his words, even though you know you’re probably reading into it too much.

“Ah, alright. Have fun.”

The message feels too short, too casual. You frown at your phone, biting your lip. The nagging feeling in your chest grows stronger. Has he really just become that indifferent?

You text him back quickly, trying to keep things light, trying to ignore the hurt that lingers in your words. “Yeah sorry, we’ll definitely hang out later this week though, haha.”

But even as you send the message, a part of you wonders if this week is going to be just like the last—another week of him acting normal at school, you trying to text him all night, waiting for responses that don’t come, waiting for a friendship that doesn’t feel the same anymore.

You let out a sigh, toss your phone aside, and climb into bed, your angsty playlist drifting through your ears as you struggle to sleep.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The bass from the music thumps through your chest as you step into the crowded living room. The lights are dim, the room filled with a haze of colored neon and swirling bodies moving to the rhythm. It’s your first real party in a long time, and the unfamiliar atmosphere is slightly overwhelming. You spot Giselle across the room, her blonde hair shining under the strobe lights as she waves you over.

You smile, grateful for her invitation. The group of people she’s hanging with seems friendly enough, laughing and chatting as they pass drinks around. Giselle introduces you to a few of her friends, and you slip into the crowd easily enough, trying to shake off the tension that’s been building in you ever since Mark stopped replying to your texts.

You’ve been pushing it down all night, focusing on the fun of the party, but it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Is he really busy with homework? Or is he avoiding me? You try not to dwell on it. After all, he’s always been a little unpredictable—he’s probably just caught up with his own stuff.

As the night wears on, you find yourself getting along with Giselle’s friends. You chat with a girl named Ningning who shares a class with you, and you laugh at her sarcastic humor. It’s nice. It feels good to be out and talking with people who aren’t just classmates or distant acquaintances. But still, in the back of your mind, you’re aware of the emptiness Mark’s absence has left. Every few minutes, you glance at your phone, hoping to see a message from him, but there’s nothing.

You tell yourself it’s fine—he’s just busy. But every time you check, you feel a little more disappointed. 

The music pulses louder, and you take a deep breath, shaking off the thoughts of your best friend. Giselle is pulling you toward the makeshift dance floor, laughing as she drags you into the crowd. You let yourself get swept up in the fun for a while, your body moving to the beat, the drinks in your system giving you a comfortable, carefree buzz.

You laugh, enjoy yourself, and even manage to pull out a few impressive dance moves—at least according to Giselle, who’s cheering you on. The night seems to go by in a blur of music and people, the few drinks you’d had adding to the fuzziness of the night’s events.

But as the night winds down, you find yourself standing near the door, chatting with Ningning again. You glance down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, a little embarrassed that you’re still hoping for a text from him.

You frown when you see the time: it’s late, and you still haven’t heard from him. You were starting to wonder if you should text him, maybe check in, when Giselle appears beside you. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, her eyes narrowing with a knowing look. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking about stuff,” you say vaguely, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

She nods. “You know, it’s okay to have fun without him. Sometimes you gotta do your own thing, right?”

You nod along, but her words hit deeper than she probably intended. Why does it feel like I can’t? you think, but you don’t say it out loud. Instead, you force another smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Giselle offers to drive you home, but you shake your head. “I think I’ll walk. Get some fresh air. Plus, I’ve got pepper spray, just in case,” you joke, trying to ease the mood.

She laughs, but her eyes linger on you for a moment. “Alright, take care of yourself, okay?”

You wave her off as she heads toward the car with her friends. You linger by the door for a moment, a small hesitation gnawing at you, but then you push it aside. Walking will help clear your head.

As you step out into the cool night air, the city streets are alive with the usual hum of late-night activity. There’s a slight chill to the breeze, but you don’t mind it. You wrap your jacket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the effects of the alcohol beginning to wear off as the cold air helps sober you up. The walk is quiet, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can breathe a little easier.

But even though the night is peaceful, your mind still drifts back to Mark. His silence feels like an anchor in your chest, something heavy and uncertain, and as you walk, you can’t stop wondering what’s going on. You’ve spent every Saturday night together for as long as you can remember. And now... now he’s just disappearing.

You try to shake off the feeling, telling yourself it's nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking. Again. But the more you walk, the more your thoughts spiral, until you hear the footsteps behind you.

Before you can even react, a hand grabs your wrist, spinning you around so quickly that your heart jumps into your throat. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a split second, you can’t even process what’s happening. The streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you can’t make out the guy’s face. All you feel is the cold, tight grip on your wrist.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest, panic surging through you. You try to pull away, but his hand tightens, and a sickening, familiar feeling spreads through you.

"Hey! Let go of me!" you shout, your voice shaking.

“Quiet, bitch,” the man growls, his breath hot against your neck. You struggle, but his grip tightens, and your pulse quickens.

Just as the fear begins to settle over you, you hear a soft whoosh, followed by a thud that’s too heavy to be anything but a person.

Without warning, the man’s grip on you loosens, and before you can even react, you're yanked off the ground and pulled up a nearby fire escape ladder, higher and higher until you’re standing on a rooftop. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to steady your breath. You glance around, completely disoriented, when the voice of the masker figure breaks the silence. 

You let out a breath, in awe of the Spiderman being right in front of you.

But before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Stay here,” he orders, his tone sharp as he drops you onto a crate by the edge of the roof. “I’ll handle it. Don’t move.”

You don’t even have time to ask him what’s going on before he’s gone, leaving you sitting there alone in the dark, your mind spinning. What the hell just happened? Is this... real? You glance around, still trying to process the fact that Spiderman—the very same guy you’d heard about in the news, the one everyone in the city seems to talk about—just saved you from some creep.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the sound of struggle below, muffled voices, and a distant thud as Spiderman confronts the man you were just seconds away from being attacked by. It’s all over within moments, and before you can fully grasp the situation, Spiderman returns, landing effortlessly on the roof beside you.

He glances at you, his mask giving nothing away, but you notice the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast for someone who should be used to fighting.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer now. You nod quickly, trying to push the terror away.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing hard. “Thanks for saving me.”

A long silence stretches between you before you, almost hesitantly, ask, “Did... did you... kill him?”

The question comes out before you can think better of it, but the moment you say it, his head whips toward you in complete shock.

“What?!” he exclaims, his voice full of disbelief. “No! I—no, I didn’t kill him! I just... I knocked him out. I’m not... I don’t... that’s not what I do.”

You blink, surprised at how horrified he sounds. Maybe you’ve underestimated him.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling sheepish. “Sorry, I... I don’t know how these things work.”

Spiderman’s shoulders visibly relax, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s fine. Just... just stay safe, okay? I’ll get you home.”

You nod, your heart still beating erratically in your chest. Part of you is still processing everything, but another part of you is grateful. Grateful for Spiderman being here tonight, for protecting you when no one else would have been able to.

“Um, thank you again,” you say, your voice softer this time.

His eyes behind the mask seem to soften, but you’re not sure. “I can take you home,” he offers, voice low, almost too gentle, slightly familiar but you’re unable to place exactly where you’d heard it before.

You blink up at him, still in shock, and then remember where you are. “I’m almost home… I can walk the rest of the way.”

But the more you think about it, the more you realize you really don’t want to walk. Not after what just happened. Plus, his presence feels safe in a way you can’t explain.

Spiderman seems to notice the hesitation in your expression, and before you can change your mind, he’s already swooping down, his webbing attaching to a nearby building. “Hold on tight.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you barely process his words. Before you can question how he knows where you live, he shoots another web, pulling you along with him. Your feet leave the ground, and you’re soaring through the city. The wind rushes against your face, and everything is a blur of lights and rooftops.

The whole trip is a disorienting whirl, but it’s somehow comforting in its chaos. Spiderman moves like he’s done this a thousand times, his grip tight around your waist as he swings from one building to the next. The world below you is a distant hum, but your thoughts are still clouded with questions.

And then, as quickly as it began, you find yourself standing on the fire escape of your apartment building. Your legs are a little shaky, but it doesn’t matter. You’re safe.

“Here we are,” he says, glancing up at your window.

You stare at him, still slightly tipsy from the night’s events, but not questioning how he knows where you live. After all, it’s just one of those things that doesn’t make sense, and you don’t really care. All that matters is that you’re safe now.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, feeling oddly vulnerable under his watchful gaze.

He nods again, his hand slipping back to his side as he stands a little straighter. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t walk alone at night again. It’s... not safe. Especially for pretty girls like you.”

You nod, still too stunned to respond properly. You watch as he shoots a web up to the fire escape and swings back into the darkness. You stand there for a moment, your thoughts racing, wondering if the whole thing really just happened. It’s only when you step inside your apartment and hear the quiet of the night that it hits you. Spiderman just saved me, not only that but he’d called you pretty too.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The next Monday morning at school, everything feels a little surreal. You’re walking through the hallways, mind still reeling from that night’s events. You still haven’t told anyone, and you feel like you’re about to burst. How in the world had Spiderman been so close to you? And you were actually talking to him, like... you know, a real conversation.

As you sit down next to Mark in homeroom, you can’t help but grin. You need to tell someone about the whole thing, and who better than your best friend? You tap his shoulder and lean in close, trying to act casual but failing miserably.

“Oh my God, Mark, you won’t believe what happened last night,” you blurt out, eyes wide with excitement.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight chuckle escaping him as he looks over at you. “What happened? You go to a party or something?”

You shake your head, not able to contain the grin that stretches across your face. “Worse. I got mugged.” You pause for dramatic effect, watching his eyes widen with concern. “But wait—before you freak out, I was saved. By Spiderman.”

Mark freezes for a second, blinking at you in disbelief. “Spiderman? You’re serious? Like, the Spiderman?”

You nod, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed as you recount the entire wild encounter, from the guy grabbing you to being yanked onto the roof and saved by Spiderman. You try to make it sound as casual as possible, but you can’t help but feel the thrill of telling someone about your personal brush with New York’s most famous hero.

“That’s insane,” Mark mutters, clearly processing the details. “Wait, so... what happened next?”

“Well, he saved me,” you say, leaning in like you’re sharing a secret. “But... I’m not gonna lie, Mark, he was lowkey hot.” 

Mark splutters, his face twisting with confusion. “What? You don’t even know what he looks like.”

You shrug dramatically, twirling your pen between your fingers. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not about looks. It’s how he was so protective, you know? The way he grabbed me and made sure I was okay... it was hot.”

You watch Mark's face turn a shade of red as his expression shifts from surprise to something else entirely—discomfort, maybe? You can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to hold it together.

“No way. You’re a freak, bro,” Mark says, shaking his head and trying to laugh it off. “Like, seriously? You’re crushing on a guy you don’t even know?”

You roll your eyes, letting out a short laugh. “I don’t judge your crushes, so don’t judge mine. It’s called appreciating someone for more than just their looks.”

Mark scowls, but there’s a nervous twitch in his eyes. “I’m not judging. But... I don’t know, it’s just a little weird. You’ve got a crush on Spiderman?”

You smile, feeling a little awkward. “I guess. He’s mysterious, heroic... and I mean, he was pretty hot for someone wearing a mask.” You nudge him playfully, watching the way he looks more and more flustered.

Mark shrugs, but you can see the slight hesitation in his eyes. “Whatever, man. You’re weird. But... I guess if he saved you... that’s... kinda cool.”

It’s hard to ignore the little spark of something else in his voice, even if he’s trying to mask it with humor. You grin to yourself, filing the moment away. You’re not sure why, but it feels like there’s a shift between you two—something you can’t quite put your finger on.

You press the issue no further, but the day goes on, and you can't stop thinking about Mark’s weird reaction. Sure, he’s your best friend, but the way he acted just now... it made you wonder. Could he possibly feel something more for you?

You find yourself entertaining the idea of Mark having a crush on you, before shaking your head and brushing the thought away. There’s no way Mark liked you, if he did, he would have told you.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

As the week drags on, you can't shake the thought of Spiderman. Sure, you were trying to move on, but it’s hard when you keep running into him every time you step out of the apartment at night. You’ll be walking home from the store, or maybe grabbing dinner with Giselle and Ninging, and bam—there he is, swinging between buildings or dropping down from some rooftop. It’s like he’s everywhere.

At first, you try to brush it off, telling yourself it’s just a coincidence. But then, it starts feeling a little too suspicious, almost like he’s... following you? Or looking out for you?

One night, you’re walking back from your favorite coffee shop, the crisp air of early fall making you hug your jacket tighter. You’ve been texting Mark, as usual, but his replies are slow—too slow. You roll your eyes at the screen, sighing. You swear, it’s like he’s avoiding you or something.

As you round the corner toward your apartment building, you feel that familiar shift in the air, that sensation of something just slightly off. You glance up and sure enough, you spot him—Spiderman—perched on a rooftop above you, his figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights.

You pause in your tracks, raising a brow. “Really? Again?”

Spiderman tilts his head, as if amused by your reaction. He crouches down and lands lightly in front of you, his movements fluid and graceful.

“You’re following me, huh?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean, I appreciate the protection and all, but you don’t have to babysit me.”

Spiderman straightens, a soft chuckle escaping from behind the mask. “I’m not babysitting,” he says with a playful edge. “Just making sure you don’t run into any... unsavory people.”

You roll your eyes, but there's a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well, I’m fine. Been walking these streets for years now.”

There’s a pause, as if he’s considering your words. “I’m still here. Just in case.” His voice is a little warmer than usual, though it’s hard to tell beneath the mask.

You feel a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up. “You’re a real hero, huh?” you quip. “Just swinging in, saving the day. But honestly? I’m starting to get tired of it. I mean, you’re cute and all, but this whole ‘mysterious stranger’ act? It’s getting old.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and as soon as they do, you realize—you’ve just said that to Spiderman.

You quickly recover, trying to act casual. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m just getting a little tired of feeling like I’m in some weird superhero movie, you know?”

Spiderman doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he steps a little closer, his posture still relaxed but with a certain intensity in his eyes—well, you imagine that’s what’s behind the mask.

“Maybe I should back off for a while then,” he says after a beat, his tone more thoughtful. “You’ve got it all under control, right?”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to cover up how your heart is suddenly beating a little faster. “Yeah, I’ve got it under control, obviously.”

“Really?” Spiderman says, his voice a little too calm for your liking. Before you can even process what’s happening, he webs your phone right out of your hand, and you gasp, stumbling back in surprise as it hovers in midair for a second before landing gently in his palm.

You blink up at him in disbelief, your mouth hanging open. “What the hell? Give that back!”

He shrugs, unfazed. “What if someone mugs you again? No offense, but your reflexes suck.”

Your jaw clenches at the jab, but you can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Thanks, I feel so much safer now. I wasn’t even worried about it.”

You reach for your phone, and he hands it back to you, but there’s a look in his eyes—concern, maybe? Or just frustration. “You might not worry, but I do. You seem like you’ve got your act together, but... I don’t know. Maybe I’m just looking out for you.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat in the gesture. "Fine," you say, a little too quickly. "I guess I can let you walk with me then. But just so you know, you’re not my personal bodyguard, alright?”

Spiderman grins behind his mask, a little triumphant, but he falls in step behind you. You try to ignore the way his presence feels different—more constant now, like it’s a part of the night itself. You walk for a few minutes, the quiet of the city streets pressing in on you. You try to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, but the weight of the past few days catches up with you, and you find your shoulders slumping a little more with each step.

Spiderman notices, of course. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Finally, he speaks up, his voice softer than usual. “You wanna talk about it? I mean, you’ve been acting a little... off tonight.”

You look over your shoulder at him, surprised that he even noticed. But you don’t hesitate. Maybe it’s the anonymity of the mask. Maybe it’s the strange comfort of having a stranger to vent to. But suddenly, you just want to unload.

“Yeah,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “I mean, I’ve been dealing with some... stuff lately.”

You kick a rock along the sidewalk as you walk, the soft scrape of it filling the silence. “I’ve got this friend, Mark, right? We’ve been close for years—like, best friends. We have this thing where every Saturday, no exceptions, we hang out. Watch movies, talk... whatever. We’re just... us. But lately? He’s been acting weird. Like, really weird.”

Spiderman doesn’t interrupt. He just walks beside you, giving you the space to talk.

“It’s like he’s avoiding me,” you continue, your words gaining momentum. “I get that people get busy, but he’s never like this. He’s slow to reply, sometimes doesn’t even respond at all, and when he does, it’s like he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t even know what happened. It’s just... really frustrating. And I don’t even know if I should ask him about it, because I don’t want to come off as desperate or clingy.”

You kick another rock, your frustration spilling over, and for a second, you feel a little ridiculous. Here you are, talking about Mark to a guy you don’t even know, someone who wears a mask and swings from rooftops. But the words come tumbling out anyway, all of your insecurities and confusion finding a strange kind of release in the cool air of the city.

Spiderman stays quiet for a moment, processing. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, like he’s trying to make sense of your ramblings. “Sounds like he’s pulling away for some reason,” he says thoughtfully. “But I’m sure there’s a reason. Maybe he’s just going through something, you know?”

You shrug, feeling the weight of the uncertainty settle in your chest. “I don’t know. I just... I want things Spiderman listens quietly, his footsteps matching yours as you walk. You don’t notice the way his posture shifts, or the way his mask seems to obscure any hint of emotion—though somehow, you feel like he’s really paying attention.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks again, his voice thoughtful and a little gentler than before. “You know, I think you should just talk to him. Mark, I mean.”

You stop in your tracks, looking over at him in surprise. “What?”

Spiderman shrugs, his tone almost casual, but his words don’t match the nonchalance. “I get it. You’re frustrated, and you don’t want to be the one to chase him down. But sometimes, people just need a nudge. If you really want things to go back to the way they were... maybe you should just be honest with him. Ask him what’s up.”

You frown, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. “But what if I look desperate? Or, I don’t know... what if he doesn’t care?”

Spiderman stops walking too, his voice quiet but steady when he answers. “He cares. I’m sure of it.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised by how certain he sounds. “How could you possibly know that? You don’t even know him.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t need to. I can tell from the way you talk about him. The way you light up when you mention him. You’re not the kind of person who just forgets someone you care about. And trust me, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to lose that either. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

You let out a long sigh, leaning against the nearest streetlamp. His words stir something inside you—something you’ve been avoiding all week. The idea that Mark really does care makes your heart feel a little lighter, but the fear is still there. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I make things worse by trying to talk to him?”

Spiderman leans against the wall next to you, his posture relaxed. “Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But you know him. I’m sure you’ve been through rough patches before and you worked through them. You just need to give him the chance to explain himself. I think that’s all he needs—someone to really talk to. And if you don’t do it, you’ll always be wondering what could’ve happened.”

You chew on your lip, his words hanging in the air between you. There’s a weight to them, something that feels... true. Something that makes you want to listen to him, to take his advice. But still, there’s a stubborn part of you that wants to push it all aside. “I just... don’t want to get hurt. Again.”

Spiderman straightens up, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You won’t. Not if you’re honest. Trust me.”

You glance up at him, your gaze softening as you look into the mysterious eyes behind his mask. He sounds so sure of himself.

“Thanks,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him. “I’ll think about it.”

He nods once, giving you an almost encouraging smile beneath the mask. “I know you will.”

You both fall silent as you continue walking, but the weight in your chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. Maybe, just maybe, Spiderman is right. Maybe you do need to talk to Mark.

Maybe it won’t be as scary as you think.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

A few days after your conversation with Spiderman, things between you and Mark seem to settle down a bit. He’s still a little distant at times, but when he’s around, you notice he’s more present, his smiles more genuine, his conversations less distracted. It’s not the same as before—things can’t just magically go back to normal—but there’s something warmer there, something more honest.

One afternoon, as you’re sitting at your favorite spot in the courtyard, you catch him coming toward you, looking a little tired but still smiling like he’s actually glad to see you. You can’t help but feel a pang of relief. It’s been a while since you’ve had one of these simple, casual hangouts, and you’ve missed it more than you care to admit.

He sits beside you, just like old times, and you both start talking like you haven’t missed a beat. But the conversation isn’t just surface-level anymore. He seems more open, more real.

After a while, you can’t hold back anymore. The thought has been gnawing at the back of your mind for days, and it’s finally time to ask.

You clear your throat, trying to sound casual, though your heart is thumping in your chest. "Hey, Mark. Can I ask you something?"

He glances at you, his brow furrowing slightly, but he’s still listening. “Of course. What’s up?”

You take a deep breath, trying not to come off too confrontational. "Why did you ghost me before? I mean, I know you were busy, but... you weren’t even texting me back. I didn’t want to push, but it felt like you were avoiding me."

His expression hardens for just a moment, like he's bracing himself. He looks away for a second, running a hand through his hair. "I was... going through something. Something personal."

You wait, your heart rate picking up. The words hang between you two, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t.

You want to press him, ask for more details, but you don’t. There’s something about the way he said it—quiet, almost hesitant—that makes you feel like he’s not ready to share. You nod, leaning back against the bench. “Okay... But you know, you can always talk to me, right?”

Mark hesitates, eyes flicking back to you, a mix of gratitude and something else passing through his gaze. "I know," he says, his voice soft but firm. "But right now, I really can’t. I wish I could, but..." He lets out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. "It’s complicated, and I don’t want to drag you into it."

You feel the weight of his words, something about them striking you deeper than you expected. There’s an intensity there, a desperation almost, that you weren’t prepared for. You stare at him for a moment, your gaze softening as you consider his words.

"I trust you, Mark," you say quietly. "And I know you’re not lying to me. So... if you can’t tell me yet, it’s okay. Just know that I’m here, whenever you’re ready."

There’s a long pause as he looks at you, like he’s trying to read the sincerity in your eyes. Finally, he looks away, nodding slowly.

"Thanks. That... means a lot to me." His voice cracks a little, and you can tell how much he appreciates your understanding. "I really am sorry for pulling away, though. I never wanted to hurt you."

You smile softly, feeling the tension between you two finally start to ease. "I know you didn’t. But I’m here, okay? Just like you said—whenever you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere."

He gives a small, grateful smile, his eyes warmer than they’ve been in a while. "Thanks... I really mean it."

From that moment on, things slowly start to return to a sense of normalcy. Mark isn’t completely open with you yet—whatever is going on with him still seems like something he’s not ready to share—but there’s a shift. There’s no more distance. He’s trying, and you’re trying, and that’s enough for now.

And as you walk to class together the next day, you feel a little lighter. Maybe things aren’t perfect, and maybe they never will be, but you’re still here for each other. And somehow, that’s all you need for now.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Things have started to settle into a new rhythm, one that’s almost comfortable. You and Mark are hanging out again, like before, laughing and joking and just enjoying each other’s company. But now, there's something different in the air—something lighter, maybe even flirtatious. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He'll tease you, throw out little compliments that make your heart race, and you’ve noticed the way he looks at you when you’re talking, his eyes softer than usual.

You can’t deny it—you’re starting to feel the spark again, that chemistry you thought you had maybe lost when things got weird. But you're also talking to Spiderman regularly now, and every time you do, you feel like you’re walking this tightrope between two worlds—one where everything feels so right with Mark, and one where he is a complete mystery. You don’t even realize it yet, but you're starting to fall for both of them in very different ways.

You hadn’t expected to run into him tonight, but here he is, perched on the fire escape across the street, casually leaning against the rail. It’s become a weird sort of routine lately—your nightly walks where you’d end up talking to Spiderman. It’s comforting in its own way, even if you still don’t know who’s behind the mask.

You slow your pace and look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re stalking me now?”

Spiderman chuckles, the sound muffled by the mask but still warm enough to make your chest flutter. “If I’m stalking you, then you’re stalking me, too,” he teases, swinging down lightly to land in front of you. “What’s up tonight?”

You shrug, adjusting the straps of your bag over your shoulder. “Not much. Just out to clear my head.”

The city feels quieter at night. The hum of the busy streets seems far away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you standing there in the stillness. You’ve gotten used to his company in the past couple of weeks, and there’s a sense of comfort in the anonymity between you. A part of you almost wishes you could talk to him more. After everything with Mark, it’s nice to have someone to listen, someone who isn’t involved in the mess.

He notices the shift in your demeanor, and you can tell by the tilt of his head that he’s waiting for you to speak.

You let out a deep breath, gathering your courage. You hadn’t planned on telling him this, but somehow it just comes out. “I think I’m in love with Mark,” you say, voice quieter than usual, almost scared to even say it out loud.

His posture stiffens for a second, though you can’t see his expression under the mask. “Mark?” he repeats, sounding genuinely surprised. “Like, your best friend Mark?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah. I mean... I don’t know. It’s confusing. We’ve been friends forever, and now it’s like I can’t get him out of my head. Lately, he’s been like flirting, I think?”

“Flirting?” he asks, his tone curious, almost teasing. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing nervously. “I don’t know, he’s just been way nicer lately? Texting me more, teasing me... It’s like he’s trying to get closer to me or something.”

You glance around, unsure of how to continue, suddenly feeling a little silly talking about your boy problems to Spiderman. You rub the back of your neck and look away, trying to gather your thoughts. “But I don’t know if I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m just reading into things. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long. He’s always been nice to me, but now it’s... different. It’s making me crazy. I don’t know what to think.”

Spiderman watches you quietly, his posture still, though there’s something in the way he holds himself that makes you feel like he’s really paying attention. “You deserve an answer,” he says after a pause, his voice low but certain. “You deserve to know how he feels, one way or the other.”

You look up at him, surprised by his words. “You think so?”

He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. You can’t keep guessing forever. I mean, I’m not saying it’s easy to talk about feelings, but it’s the only way to know for sure.”

You bite your lip, nodding slowly. You want to believe him, you want to believe that talking to Mark is the right thing to do, but the idea of being rejected still stings. “Yeah... I guess you're right. I’ve been avoiding talking to him about it. I’m scared of what might happen if I do.”

Spiderman steps closer, his voice soft and reassuring. “If he’s your friend, he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t... then at least you’ll know where you stand.”

You sigh deeply, feeling the weight of his words. He’s right, of course. You’ve been avoiding the conversation with Mark because you’re afraid of what might happen, but maybe it’s time to face it.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a little lighter. “I’m not sure I’d have the courage to do it if you hadn’t said something.”

“No problem,” he replies, a teasing note in his voice. “I mean, I’m just a friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Helping people is kind of my thing.”

You laugh a little, but it’s a mix of relief and gratitude. “You’re way too nice to be a superhero.”

He shrugs, though you can’t see it through the mask. “I do what I can. But seriously, take my advice. Talk to him. He’s probably just as confused as you are.”

You smile, feeling a little more confident now. “I will. I promise.”

Spiderman gives you a nod of approval before his posture shifts, signaling that it’s time to go. “Alright. Go get some sleep. You’ve got this.”

You watch as he swings up to the rooftops, disappearing into the night, and for the first time in a while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—you can start figuring things out with Mark.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

You don’t even see it coming.

One moment, you’re walking back from the corner store with a bag of snacks, minding your own business. The next, someone grabs you, and your heart leaps into your throat. A rough voice snarls in your ear, “Where’s your friend Spiderman?”

Panic overtakes you, and all you can manage is a confused stammer. You’re shoved into the back of a van, heart racing as you piece together what’s happening. Someone must’ve seen you with him that night, or maybe they’ve been watching for longer than you realized.

Your captors don’t wait long to make their demands clear. “You tell him to show up, or things get messy,” one says, holding up your phone. They want you to call him. The problem is, you have no idea how.

You stutter, trying to explain that you literally don’t have his phone number.

“Don’t play dumb,” the second man snaps, holding up your phone. “We’ve seen him with you. Call him.”

“I can’t—”

Your words are cut off as the van jerks to a halt. The two men exchange alarmed glances, and then you hear it: a thud on the roof.

“What the hell was that?” one mutters, pulling out a weapon.

The next sound is unmistakable—the sharp thwip of a web. The van rocks violently as the door is ripped clean off, light flooding the cramped space.

And there he is.

Spiderman is a blur of red and blue, launching himself into the van with an acrobatic flip. He webs the first man’s weapon before the guy can react, yanking it away and tossing it aside. The second man lunges at him with a crowbar, but Spiderman ducks, the crowbar smashing into the wall behind him with a deafening clang.

“Stay down,” Spiderman warns, his voice firm but calm.

The first guy doesn’t listen. He charges at Spiderman, only to get a web shot to the face. Spiderman kicks him backward, sending him sprawling onto the van’s floor.

“Are you okay?” Spiderman asks, glancing at you briefly.

You nod, too stunned to speak.

The second guy doesn’t go down as easily. He’s bigger, meaner, and surprisingly agile. He swings the crowbar again, catching Spiderman in the side. The sickening sound of metal against his ribs makes your stomach turn.

Spiderman grunts in pain, stumbling but recovering quickly. He blocks the next swing with his forearm, webbing the crowbar and yanking it from the man’s grasp. “You really don’t learn, do you?” he quips, his voice strained.

Before he can finish, the first guy is back on his feet, armed with a knife. He slashes at Spiderman, who dodges narrowly but takes a glancing cut to his arm.

“Two against one,” Spiderman mutters, “that’s not very fair.”

He shoots a web at the knife, disarming the man, then uses a second web to yank him forward. Spiderman spins, using the man’s momentum against him, and sends him crashing into the wall of the van.

The second guy charges, tackling Spiderman to the ground. They grapple, fists flying, and you can see Spiderman slowing down, his movements less precise. Blood stains his suit where the knife grazed him, and he’s holding his side—likely from the earlier hit.

Your breath catches as the second guy pins him, but Spiderman surprises you, using his legs to flip the man over his head. He’s back on his feet in an instant, delivering a punch that knocks the guy out cold.

Spiderman turns to you, his breathing heavy, his posture slouched. “You’re safe now,” he says, but his voice wavers.

“Safe? You’re bleeding!” you exclaim, rushing to his side.

“It’s fine,” he says, trying to wave you off, but his movements are sluggish, and he’s gripping his ribs tightly.

“It’s not fine,” you argue, your voice rising. “You’re hurt. You need help. Come on, let’s go to my place.”

He hesitates, but when he stumbles slightly, he lets you guide him out of the van.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

You practically drag Spiderman up the fire escape to your bedroom. He’s limping, trying to downplay the extent of his injuries, but you can see the pain etched into his body language—even through the mask.

“Sit,” you order the moment you’re inside, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates, scanning the windows and doors like he’s expecting someone to burst in.

“Relax,” you add. “Nobody followed us.”

With a reluctant nod, he sinks into the couch, groaning softly. You rush to grab your first-aid kit, returning to find him still gripping his side, his masked head tilted back against the cushions.

“Alright,” you say, kneeling beside him. “I need to check your injuries. You’re gonna have to take off the mask.”

He tenses immediately, shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Spiderman,” you say firmly, “you can’t breathe properly. I need to check if you’re okay. I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”

“No,” he says again, his voice edged with frustration. “I can’t. It’s... complicated.”

You sit back on your heels, crossing your arms. “Complicated? You just saved my life, and now I’m trying to save yours. What’s complicated about that?”

He looks at you for a long moment, the lenses of his mask narrowing slightly. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.”

You huff, annoyed. “Fine. At least let me patch up what I can see.”

He allows you to clean the cut on his arm, wincing slightly as you dab antiseptic on it. You notice how quiet he’s gotten, his usual witty banter replaced by a tense silence.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

“I do,” he replies immediately, his tone clipped.

The words hit harder than you expect. You lean back, giving him space, and he stands, wobbling slightly.

“Thanks for the help,” he says, moving toward the window.

“Wait—”

“I’ll be fine,” he cuts you off, stepping onto the ledge. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

And then he’s gone, leaving you staring at the empty space where he’d been, your chest tight with frustration and worry.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

It’s been days since you last saw Spiderman. Days of walking home late at night and feeling the eerie absence of the one person who always made you feel safe. You tell yourself it’s fine. That he’s busy saving the city or maybe just giving you space. But deep down, you feel the sting of being shut out.

Mark’s been acting strange too. Not like before, when he outright ignored you, but there’s something guarded about him again—like he’s keeping secrets. You don’t know how much more of this you can take.

One evening, as you’re walking home, the silence feels unbearable. The air feels colder, heavier, without the usual sense of someone watching your back. By the time you reach your apartment, your chest feels tight with frustration. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent conversations.

Nothing from Spiderman.

Mark’s last text was a brief, “Can’t hang tonight, sorry.”

You shove your phone in your pocket and head straight to Mark’s apartment

When Mark opens the door, he looks surprised—and maybe a little nervous—to see you.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, trying for casual, but there’s a stiffness in his tone.

“Are you avoiding me again?” you blurt out, crossing your arms.

He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No. Why would I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Mark,” you cut him off. “You’ve been weird. You’re barely texting back, and when you do, it’s like you’re walking on eggshells. What’s going on with you?”

He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I’m just... dealing with stuff, okay? It’s nothing to do with you.”

You step closer, lowering your voice. “You told me to trust you. To believe that you care about me. And I do, Mark. But it feels like you’re shutting me out again, and I can’t take that.”

He lets out a long sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple!” you exclaim. “You’re my best friend, Mark. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something—something big. But then he stops himself, his jaw tightening.

“I can’t,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stare at him, heart sinking. “Why not?”

“Because if you knew...” He pauses, swallowing hard. “It would change everything. And I can’t risk that.”

Your mind races, frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize how hard it is for me to feel like I can’t talk to anyone? To feel like I’m losing you and—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll stop asking.”

“Y/N...”

“No,” you say firmly, stepping back. “When you’re ready to actually be honest with me, let me know.”

Before he can respond, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing in the doorway, his expression conflicted.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Mark can’t stop replaying the look on your face as you walked away. The hurt in your voice, the weight of your words—it gnaws at him. For the first time in his life, he’s truly afraid he might lose you.

He paces his room, running a hand through his hair. Every excuse he’s made to keep his identity a secret feels hollow now. You deserve the truth. And if it costs him everything? At least you’ll know how much you mean to him.

Grabbing a small bouquet of flowers—ones he spotted on the way home earlier—he suits up and swings toward your apartment. The city rushes by beneath him, but for once, he doesn’t revel in the thrill of it. His heart pounds in his chest as he lands on your fire escape, crouching just outside your bedroom window.

With a deep breath, he knocks.

You look up, confused at first, but then your heart skips a beat when you see the familiar figure crouched on the fire escape. Spiderman.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should even let him in after how things ended the last time. But then you sigh, walking over and unlocking the window.

“What are you doing here?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms as he steps inside.

He straightens, holding out the small bouquet of slightly squished flowers. “I, uh... I messed up,” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “And I needed to make it right.”

You glance at the flowers, then back at him, skeptical. “You think flowers are gonna fix everything?”

“No,” he admits quickly, shaking his head. “Not at all. But I’m here because... I need to tell you the truth. The whole truth.”

You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “You’re finally ready to take off the mask?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, stepping closer. “But only if you promise not to freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” you mutter, but your curiosity is piqued.

“Just—close your eyes,” he says, a nervous edge to his voice.

You hesitate for a second but do as he asks. You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the sound of him taking off his mask. Then, gently, he takes your hands in his and places them on his face. His skin is warm under your fingertips, and you can feel the slight tremor of his nerves.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Open your eyes.”

You do—and your breath catches in your throat.

“Mark?”

He winces, giving you a sheepish smile. “Surprise?”

Your hands fall from his face as you take a step back, staring at him in utter disbelief. “What the actual hell?! Mark, you’re Spiderman?!”

“Yeah...” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to tell you, I really did. But I couldn’t. Not until now.”

You blink at him, processing. Suddenly, all the weird behavior, the ditching, the injuries—it all makes sense. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” you say, your voice shaking slightly.

“I wasn’t lying,” he says quickly. “I was just... protecting you. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but then you stop, taking a deep breath. “Why now, then? Why tell me now?”

“Because I couldn’t lose you,” he says, his voice raw with sincerity. “I know I’ve messed up a lot, and I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for that. But you’re the most important person in my life, and if being honest is the only way to fix this, then... here I am. No more secrets.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his words. You take a step closer, searching his face. “You’re an idiot,” you say quietly.

He nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”

“But I guess... I can forgive you,” you add, your voice softening. “Eventually.”

The tension in his shoulders eases, and he lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

There’s a pause, the air between you heavy with unspoken feelings.

“So...” you say, tilting your head. “What now?”

“Well,” he says, his smile growing, “I was kinda hoping we could start over. But, like, as more than friends this time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now too. “I guess saving me from a mugger earns you some points.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you meet his gaze, the truth in his eyes making your knees feel weak.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Before either of you can overthink it, you close the distance between you, pulling him into a kiss that feels like it’s been years in the making. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and for once, everything feels right.

Maybe for once Spiderman can have a happy ending.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

author's note 𝟅𝟈 this was a bitch to finish i'm ngl but i think i'm pretty happy with how it turned out so yay! i love spiderman sm so yk i love spidermark too. anyways leave suggestions for fics in the comments or my inbox pls.

masterlist.

[currentfandomkick]

Danny, mute by non-liminal standards, yelling at Damian in Ghost Speak: no, no murder!

Damian, thinking Danny must have defected from the LOA and be trying to help him not relapse: silence betrayer! (Moves to now kill Danny)

Danny, 10/10 done with this weird gas, manages to restrain Damian just barely and locks his grip in the middle of Damian’s forearms to prevent escape, dragging him to the ambulance: … wait you can hear me? My parents can’t unless they wear these earbuds they made! Are you (Ghost speak language Proper name) after an accident too?

Damian, still high on fear gas but aware Just Enough to tuck that info into his noggin: release me!

Danny: after the nice EMTs clear you, sure thing!

—

Meanwhile Bruce senses a disturbance in Gotham regarding one of his kids, sighs, and asks ‘who did it’ in the family Group Chat.

No one fesses up to a recent disturbance but Jason is intent on being ‘the one who did the thing’

Duke feigns confusion like he hasn’t done 20+ crazy things in the last week alone warranting that question.

Tim insists he’s only targeting people on the ‘allowed list’ so Bruce can’t say shit.

Stephanie just send a pic of the biochem chapter she’s on and says she doesnt have time for shenanigans RN

Cass sends a pic of Stephanie in the library with her, with Cass holding coffee.

Dick is ignoring them as he’s muted the chat.

Bruce asks where Dick and Damian are.

Cass sees the news and runs off to handle Scarecrow as she is the best fighter and closest to her suit.

Smashcut to Danny restraining Damian for an EMT and fear toxin anti-venom injection.

Jason rolls up with Tim and Bruce in hot pursuit to see a scrawny civilian using what all three clock as a dialect of LOA mission speak while restraining Damian successfully. All three are concerned.

Danny is relieved when its over, and uses his phone to tell then what happened, and asks who ‘Tim’ is as ‘i heard him say he wanted to kill him. First time someone not using the earbuds my parents made to hear me could understand me, and its for murder :c’

Jason has decided to ask Danny where he learned those grips as ‘i teach self defense in Crime Alley and never say that before’

‘Mom taught me, if you go for joint holds its not hard to get out if you’re willing to dislocate or break a few bones^^’

Tim is checking in on a less murdery Damian while Bruce is with the Paramedic keeping all of them in his line of sight.

Danny is now intent on asking Damian if its genetic, a ‘meta thing’ he keeps hearing about or a skill that can be learned, as he’d like to know please and thank you!

Damian finding out Danny’s family is fleeing a creepy billionaire who disabled Danny in pursuit of his mother? Well, Damian can observe and protect Danny should the need arise. But only at a distance (too naive/ignorant for Damian to deal with on a regular basis. Damian will answer school related questions as English is BS, and Danny clearly is struggling in reading analysis… and he isnt sure if it’s a new thing for Danny or not. Danny out-doing him in their science classes was unexpected, and a bit annoying. Realizing Danny was taught a mix of occult and science and can get exact measurements by eye, horrifying.)

Danny does decide to figure out how to make cures for each rogue’s preferred chemical warfare, and asks Damian if he has a clue how to get these verified as ‘shots aren’t always an option’. (Blame the substitute teacher danny posts for that brainworm)

Damian makes a point of helping Danny if only to stop him from becoming Rogue-nip.

Danny befriending Killer Croc, Grundy and Poison Ivy did not help.

Danny has a problem.

It's been around two weeks after fighting vlad and removing his powers, the tension has been building between them for a long time.

First it was the crown, Danny had earned it after fighting Pariah but Vlad thinks that Danny isn't ruthless enough to rule saying that he's "too soft" and "too indecisive" to wear the (for all the title of Ghost King is worth) glorified funny hat. Then after a long time of arguing between them Vlad came up with a scheme. If he couldn't become the king he would become the regent, he just needed to possess Jack Fenton, have him divorce Vlad's "beloved" Madeline and then possess her into marrying him.

As you can guess this didn't work, Danny found him about two seconds after he tried to divorce Maddy cause he wasn't even trying to act (like a human sized Golden retriever) his dad. So he and mom beat the creepy incel out of his dad, in the process Danny was forced to transform and his parents accepted him (YAY!), he also got hit in the side of his head by Vlad, damaging his Broca's area just enough so he can only speak in Ghostspeak, but he can still understand human words and letters. After that mess they moved to Gotham so he could recover in a place with high ectoplasm without Vlad harassing them. ( Lady Gotham hates Vlad.)

Now you're probably wondering, "What's the problem, Vlad is out of the picture and your parents accept your half dead-ness."

The problem is that some guy dressed as a scarecrow released some weird gas into his school. He didn't get a lot of people cause the "Bats?" Showed up but his friend Damien got sprayed and ran off saying he was gonna kill his brother tim. So in Danny's infinite genius he ran off after him to make sure he doesn't hurt someone.

He's not sure why Damien speaks Ghostspeak though.

[mattsnight]

Summary: in which Chris can’t hide his feelings for Y/N any longer.

Warnings: cursing !!

WC: 5k+++

Chris hated how he felt for you. The extreme feelings were overwhelming and it was hard keeping them together. He couldn’t live like this. He couldn’t live knowing you were his best friend and that nothing would ever happen with the two of you.

You were always the clingy kind of type. You couldn’t be alone for more than 24 hours and always had to be with someone who you loved. Most of the times it was Chris, which he didn’t mind at first, but when his feelings for you started, it all became a lot.

You came over to the triplets’ house today, since Chris hasn’t been answering your calls. You were really worried about him. When you walked into the house you were met with an angry Chris. He didn’t want you here at all. He didn’t want to talk. It hurt him to do this shit to you, but he needed these feelings gone. And there it was, he was bottling up all his feelings and is now taking it out on you.

“Jesus what the fuck is wrong with you?” You say to Chris as he just ignored you when you tried giving him a simple hug. He never did this, he would always hug you even when he was annoyed. He lets out a huff, rubbing his eyes as he glances in your direction.

"Me? Nothing is wrong with me, I'm absolutely fine. It's you, you're just always around being clingy, I can't even breathe without you being all over me. Seriously, do you have to be so clingy? Give me a break every once in a while," Chris bites back with a roll of his eyes. A small gasp leaves your mouth at his sudden anger. “What the hell happened to you, chris? At first you’re all nice and sweet to me and now you’re acting like a huge dick.”

Chris grits his teeth, turning to look you in the eyes a lot sharper than usual. "So now it's wrong that I've decided to give myself a break from your clinginess? Is that a crime now?" He quips, raising a brow at you unimpressed. "God, you're always so needy, you can't even go half a day without wanting my attention. Have you ever considered that maybe I'd want alone time?”

“I was giving you one hug, chris. I wasn’t sat on your lap touching your chest while waiting for you to fuck me!” You yell back, anger now running through your body. Chris is visibly taken aback by your words, the harsh bite of them makes his chest ache, but he can't focus on that right now. He lets out an annoyed huff, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. "You always hug me!" He points out, throwing his arms out. "Like, it's never just one hug, you're always all over me, no matter if we're alone or in public. It's like you can't stand the thought of not being attached to me or something!"

“Im not always hugging you! I was so excited to see you, is one hug that bad?” You say, running your hands through your hair. "And there it is again, the excuses!" Chris exclaims in annoyance. "You're always all over me, you've gotta touch me. You know I'm not the biggest fan of physical touch, so why are you always so clingy with me, huh, can you answer that?" He asks, raising a brow at you with an expectant expression on his face.

“Because we’re friends? Cus i enjoy being with you? Because maybe im trying to get our friendship back!” Yeah, that one hurt. It had been a while since you and Chris had hung out. At first you thought it was because he got a girlfriend, but he didn’t, Nick told you that.

"And you need to cling to me to do that? You need to be attached to me at all times to do that, is that it?" Chris asks, clearly still frustrated and a little on edge. "It's annoying. I'm allowed to want my own goddamn space every once in a while, why's that so hard for you to understand? I just want a little space to breathe, alone, without having you sticking yourself to me like glue."

Fuck, why did it have to go like this? You hated this and you knew he did too. There was hurt smashed on both of your faces, but the both of you didn’t stop. “Then tell me to shut up, leave and never come back!” You say, a voice crack slipping through. Chris's eyes widen slightly, his mouth going slightly agape at your words, his heart beating loud in his chest. He did not see that coming. "What?" He asks, a hint of surprise sneaking into his voice. “Tell me to leave, end our friendship and do whatever the fuck you want without me.” You repeat with a voice crack.

Chris's jaw clenches, his chest feels tight and his stomach sinks at your words. Every fibre of his being wanted to scream at you to shut up, to stay with him forever. He did not want you gone, but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to tell you. "I don't want-" he tries to protest, swallowing hard and averting his gaze. "I don't want that."

“Then what do you want, Chris?!”

"You!" His eyes widen the moment the word escapes his mouth, he didn't mean to say that, he meant to say anything other than that. He clamps his mouth shut, staring at you with a mix of shock and frustration. “What?” You say quietly, not believing that you heard him right.

"I- nothing, I... nothing, forget I said that," he runs his fingers through his hair, cursing himself inwardly. This did not get better. "I just... I think, maybe, we should just have some time apart for a while. Take some space, I'll be fine without you glued to my side, you'll be fine without me around all the time." His voice stays the same, not even a slight change.

“You said me.. chris.. what does that mean?”

"I said nothing, alright?" Chris snaps, trying to cover up his slip of the tongue, but it was too late. He couldn't lie his way out of this now. He lets out a huff, scrubbing his face with his hand, looking at you with a frustrated expression on his face. "Damnit... you weren't supposed to hear that."

You take a small step back at his snap. It wasn’t because you were scared, you wanted to give him space. His expression softens just the slightest as he sees you take a step back, his heart panging in his chest as he registers the hurt in your eyes. He shakes his head in defeat. "No, I... Damnit, I can't... Look, I can't do this right now." He runs a hand through his hair again, turning his back to you and walking a few moments. Clearly he was frustrated and upset about the whole situation. “Chris—“ you try, but he doesn’t want to talk.

"Just don’t." He bites, his voice low as he keeps his back turned to you. He clearly wasn't in the mood to keep the conversation going. He was upset, and in pain, and he knew he was hurting you as well. He didn't want to hurt you, but he knew he was, and that was so much worse in his mind. “Please just talk to me, Chris. I want to understand what is going on.”

"What is there to talk about, huh?" Chris turns to look at you again, eyes sharp and his muscles coiled tight with tension. "What are we supposed to talk about? I said something I wasn't supposed to, I can't take it back, so what do you want me to say? I don't want to talk about it, not like this, not right now."

He is still staring at you, his expression pained and frustrated. It was like he was trying to hold back so many things, trying desperately to keep them all at bay and yet they were so obvious on his face. "And what was that little stunt anyway, huh? Trying to get a reaction out of me, is that it? Well great, you got one. You did what you set out to do, I screwed up. I said something I shouldn't have said. Happy?"

Your eyes start filling up with pain. It wasn’t your intention to do this. You didn’t mean any of it, you just wanted a reason why you’re losing your best friend. Chris's heart clenches within his chest at the sight of your hurt expression. The sharp pang of guilt and regret hits him hard, but it doesn't stop him from continuing. "You wanted a reaction, and you got it. I'm human. Do you think you can just prod and poke at me all the time and I won't snap back?" He bites, narrowing his eyes at you despite the panging in his heart. “Im sorry, okay?…” you say.

"You're sorry, is that it? You're sorry?” Chris snaps, taking a step closer as he towers over you. His face is a mixture of anger and pain, despite the growing guilt at the expression on your face. “You're sorry? Great, that just fixes everything, doesn't it? You didn't mean to make me snap, didn't mean to prod and poke at me until I exploded, but that's fine because you're sorry now, right?" All his anger is aimed at you when you just tried to fix something broken. You don’t dare to speak, scared you’ll ruin it even more.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I thought," he continues, his voice still sharp and bitter. "You can apologise all you want but it's not gonna change the fact that you got exactly what you wanted out of me. You pushed me to the limit, and you got a reaction. So don't bother apologising, it's too late for that." He says, letting out a frustrated huff while scrubbing his face with his hand as anger and guilt clash together in his mind. He wants to yell at you, wants to scream at you and let it all out, but at the same time the sight of your hurt expression is killing him. "Goddamnit.." he mutters under his breath, running his fingers roughly through his hair.

“I should go home.. this isn’t gonna work.” You finally say, breaking the silence. "Yeah... maybe you should," Chris responds, but the moment the words escape his mouth he wishes he could take them back. His heart is panging against his chest, his stomach clenches with guilt at the idea of you leaving. He didn't want you to go anywhere, he wanted to talk to you, he wanted you to not look so hurt and upset, but he'd gone and made it all worse in his anger.

You grab your bag quickly after his respond, ready to leave. Chris can’t take this anymore, he needs to make this right. He needs to talk to you. His heart drops to his stomach as you reach for your bag, the reality of the situation hitting him hard as he watches you get ready to leave. "Just... just wait," he says suddenly, the words slipping out before he can even think about it. "Please don't go. I... shit.”

He falters, his breath catching as he tries to find the right words. "I... look, just... just sit down, alright?" He asks, his voice suddenly much softer and more vulnerable than before. He wanted you to stay. He couldn't stand the thought of you leaving right now, he needed you to stay. He swallows hard, forcing out the next words as his heart pounds in his chest. "Please just... just sit down. We need to talk, not like this. Just... just sit down and listen to me. Please."

“Why does this all have to be so difficult?” You ask, sitting down on the couch to listen to him. "I don't know!" Chris exclaims, frustration and annoyance rising in his voice again. Why does it have to be so difficult? He should've just kept his mouth shut in the first place, he'd made a huge mess and he knew it. "I don't know why it has to be so... so difficult." He repeats, softer this time. "I don't... I just don't know." He scrubs his face with his hand, gritting his teeth and taking a deep, calming breath.

“What happened between us?” You ask, wanting answers. Chris's heart pang's in his chest again at your question. A million answers could've come to his mind, but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. Instead, he clenches his jaw, sighing deeply and shaking his head. "I don't know," he repeats again, his frustration growing. "I... I don't know, things just... changed."

He runs his fingers through his hair, raking his brain for the right words to say, the right way to explain things without saying too much. "I can't explain it. Things just... look, it's just so complicated." He glances at you, his expression a mixture of pain and confusion. He looks away again quickly, sighing heavily and shaking his head. "Things just aren't how they used to be. Something changed... and it's all wrong now."

“Does it have anything to do with you saying that you want.. me?”

Chris visibly tenses, his breathing catching in his chest as the memory of his earlier words comes back to him. He swallows hard and nods, his heart thudding against his ribcage. "Yeah," he mutters, his voice strained. "It has... everything to do with that." He says before looking up at you again, his expression pained and his eyes full of anguish. "You weren't supposed to hear that," he explains, his voice cracking slightly. "I didn't... I didn't mean for you to hear that. I didn't want you to know."

“But you said it, what does it mean?”

Chris takes a deep breath, his heart thudding so hard in his chest it's all he can hear. He knew he was in too deep now, there was no backing out. "It means exactly what you think it means," he mutters, his voice low and heavy. "I... I want you. I want you." He couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth, but now they were out there in the open and he couldn't take them back. His eyes search your face, looking for a reaction, a response, any sign of how you felt at his words, but he couldn't find it. "I... I want you," he repeats, his voice hoarse and raw with emotion. "I've wanted you for a long time, and it's been killing me. I... I've messed it up, I know I've messed it up and I can't take it back, but it's the truth. I want you. I need you."

“Jesus christ, Chris.. we could’ve talked about this sooner without that arguing.” You groan as waves of mixed feelings wash over you. Chris lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he runs his hands through his hair again. "You think I wanted to argue with you? This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I didn't want to deal with this, I didn't want to admit this." He sighs deeply, his heart panging in his chest as he meets your gaze. "I'm an idiot," he mutters, his voice quiet. "I just ruined everything, didn't I?"

“No chris— god.. i am in love with you too.”

Chris's heart stops in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as your words wash over him, a rush of emotions surging through him at your confession. His eyes widen, his heart thudding so hard against his ribcage he's sure you can hear it. He just stares at you for a moment, like his brain isn't quite comprehending what he's just heard. "You... what?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, chris..” you say. Those three words hit Chris like a ton of bricks, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending his heart into overdrive. He didn't think he'd ever hear those words from anyone, especially not from you. His expression softens, a mix of surprise and wonder and disbelief on his face as he takes a cautious step towards you, like he's afraid he might shatter whatever fragile dream he's suddenly found himself in. "You... you mean that?" He asks, his voice hoarse and low.

“Yes! I have for a long time, but i didn’t know how to feel when you just.. stopped talking to me.”

A wave of emotions washes over Chris at your words. Relief, joy, disbelief, excitement. He swallows hard, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes another step closer to you. "You... you love me?" He repeats, his voice a little shaky as he tries to process everything. "You love me?" He takes one more step towards you, his expression full of hope and awe. You look up at him, noticing he was already staring at you. His blue eyes are searching your face for any sign of dishonesty or deception. Instead, all he sees is love, and a whole lot of it. His heart is beating so hard in his chest it physically hurt, but he didn't care. All he could see was you, and the fact that you just confessed to loving him. He reaches out hesitantly, slowly putting a hand on your waist, like he's afraid you'll vanish if he moves too quickly.

And there it was, the kiss you’ve both longed for. It feels like a switch is flipped inside the two of you. Like you’re finally free. Your hands move to his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer. His hands move to your ass, letting them rest there. Everything is how it’s supposed to be.

When the kiss finally breaks, Chris's expression is a mixture of wonder and shock, like he can't believe that just actually happened. His heart is pounding in his chest, his brain struggling to process what's just happened. He couldn't believe that you actually wanted him, that you loved him. He lets out a breathless laugh, his face still so close to yours that he can feel your breath on his face. “Shit that was so good.” He says, trying to get some air. Oh and it was good.

It was the best kiss you’ve ever had.

The end<3

Oh my god why is this sooo long :,) i hope yall liked it!

[bitchslapblastoids]

ok more rando observations

Someone screamed out “please say no!” in the silence after they asked “so did we share the bed on tour?”

Ben really is a fuckable man

Rosie edit - some other petite blond crew member! squatted by the stage before they ran down the stairs during boxing and then scurried across to squat by the other stairs they had to go back up. Does she always do that just to keep an eye out and make sure the path is clear? But she’s squatting in the dark and it’s not like she could actually communicate with them if there had been something to say, so it wasn’t totally clear what the purpose was

When they did the chase down the stairs to get off the stage they were running directly at me from 2 ft away for a second there and it was full heart attack moment material I scrambled back and yelled

They yapped about donuts and holes and cream and stuffed mouthfuls and idk it was just a lot of obscenity and phil giggling. “Is dip and pips hole emporium next to the tops only bar?”

Their thanks at the end of the show before the song were the most sincere I’ve heard yet

There were a couple of fan projects that they didn’t remotely acknowledge lol :(

They didn’t accept the bouquets some fans brought either which i guess makes sense since they’re probably flying to the uk tomorrow

Phil flubbed his lines a number of times (not on the modernity tradition line though) with no sweet comment from dan

Their lighting tech was getting gassed the fuck up by some phannies at the end of the show and he was clearly so tickled and flattered, it was cute

[soleilapproves]

catalyst - chapter 3

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex. (sukuna x reader)

Note: fem!reader

fanfic masterlist / main masterlist

“And after you get your cast removed, you’re gonna go meet your therapist. You’re due for a session.” Sukuna couldn’t be bothered to listen to Uraume’s rambling. Not when you walked around in his apartment in those shorts that made you look so enticing. Those shorts wouldn’t have lasted a minute in his sight two years ago. Your body moved swiftly behind Uraume’s frame, which was slightly below face-level with him. 

As you cleaned his living room, his eyes followed your figure, putting away misplaced books and flash drives containing important fight compilations. You looked less exhausted now compared to when you first started working for him. It’s crazy what two weeks' worth of difference could do. Your figure looked a little fuller than before because of all the food you were eating with him, and the dark circles beneath your eyes were slowly disappearing. You also began replying to him with two sentences instead of one. 

He desperately needed to know what you had been up to. Most of your icing sessions with him were silent if you didn’t account for the loud sexual tension that was always there with how close you’d be next to him- smelling like his most ardent daydream. 

“Did you get all that?” Sukuna looked down to see Uraume with their eyebrow raised. 

“You weren’t listening to me, were you?” Uraume asked. 

Sukuna nodded. “Yeah, yeah, eat my vegetables, do my exercises.” 

His manager sighed and turned to see you bent over the couch, trying to pick up a pillow that fell behind it. “You’re such a dog.” The shorter individual grimaced before placing a binder full of information about shoulder exercises on the kitchen counter. “Do these every night. Make sure you ask her for help.” He said as he gestured towards your oblivious figure, still cleaning around the couch in a compromising position. 

“Uhuh,” Sukuna said with eyes trained on your bottom. He noticed that you were gaining some volume after eating meals similar to his. It worked out well for you because your shorts showed off your shape well. 

“Gross.” They pinched the bridge of their nose.

“She’s gonna drop you off at the therapist’s office, by the way.”

“Wha- why?” Sukuna’s eyes squinted. It was embarrassing enough for him to have his ex be hired to pick his life up; having her escort him to his appointments was another thing. “Someone has to make sure you actually walk through that door and not escape with an Uber. Besides, I have a hair appointment right after your cast removal. This bob doesn’t stay sharp on its own,” Uraume said while adjusting their hair. 

Short grey wire-like strands starkly stood out on your scalp. They looked like tiny plant stems sprouting from sod. You had always complained about being stressed from school, but Sukuna wasn’t expecting the effects to be this apparent. He wondered if your body was on its last thread before you moved in with him. 

He knew your dreams were important, but you had this knack for ignoring everything else and focusing on your goal. His hands itched to grab you by your shoulders and yell, ‘This isn’t you!’ 

You looked up at him after tying his shoes. “Shall we go?” 

Burning red irises stared back into yours. There was so much to say, yet so little came out of his mouth. “Yeah, let’s get this damn thing off.”

He smiled inwardly at the bunny loop laces on his trainers as he watched you pack your bag. 

-

Everything was unsettling. The clock ticking, the familiar smell of artificial vanilla wafting through the room, the blinds covering exactly three-seventh of the window (Sukuna knows too much about ratios because of all his training),  the propriety of the entire office (who even has coasters for different types of cups?), and worst of all, his therapist’s impassive face. 

Sukuna’s knees bounced as he watched the blond man in front of him write down his notes. The sound of his ball pen scratching against the paper created an uncomfortable ambiance. “You gonna prescribe me something? Don’t bother if weight loss is one of the symptoms.” 

“No, I was just doing my crossword puzzle. You’re well enough to avoid therapeutic drugs.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “Look, Nanami, reverse psychology won’t work on me. I know you’re prescribing me some shit.”

Nanami turns his notepad around to show Sukuna the latest New York Times crossword puzzle. “I’m much too educated to use reverse psychology.” And he was right. The PhD certificate displayed on his office wall and numerous awards in a small glass cabinet in the corner indicated that the man was good at his job. He was the only therapist who could approach Sukuna’s concerns without making him feel small.

Sukuna hated that. He hated when he felt like he was being poked and prodded at by doctors. He did not cope well with having moments of weakness, hence avoiding treatment. Everyone treated him like a broken doll. 

Which he wasn’t- he was a skilled fighter who just couldn’t push himself any further. 

“You’ve been skipping your last few sessions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for paid lounging, but I’m also curious. Why’d you come now?” Nanami asked, still not looking up from his engaging activity. 

“I want to get better. I-” he took a deep breath. “-have someone I have to get better for.” He couldn’t look Nanami in the eye while saying that. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious before a man for a very long time (except for Coach Yaga). It’s part of the reason why he avoids visiting Nanami.

“Is it-”

“Yeah, it’s her. So just tell me what I have to do.”

Nanami put his notepad down and crossed his legs, iron-pressed tan slacks refusing to crease. “I’m not a relationship counselor. I’m only here to help you.” The pro boxer could only stare out the window, where the car you dropped him with was parked. If he squinted, he would probably be able to see your sleeping face.

There was a hollowing void in his life after the breakup. It seemed he had lost his reason to live, even though Yuuji was there for him- someone willing to support him even after the big incident. With a wistful heart, he yearned to be someone significant in your life again.

“I want to be with her again, but I’m scared of what she’ll think of me.”

“Is it because of what happened in the past?” Nanami asked, calculatingly to the athlete on the couch across from him.

“Yeah.”

“There’s no right way to tell her. You can’t run away from what’s inevitable. How about we talk about the incident from two years ago? It might help you gather your thoughts and decide how to come clean to her.” Sukuna indolently nodded at his therapist’s suggestion. 

“But first, I must ask you something important- what’s a five-letter synonym for abdominal pain?” 

“Can’t believe I’m paying you three hundred an hour for this shit.”

-

Sukuna had been staring at you since you both returned from the therapist’s office. It wasn’t like his usual scrutinizing stare, where it felt like he was examining every inch of your skin. It was more like his head was in another universe; you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He was going to do it. Today was the day he’d tell you why he really broke up with you. 

He didn’t visit Nanami for nothing. He just needed to ease you into having a proper conversation with him.

You were massaging his shoulders after his routine shoulder exercise, and you were glad to be standing behind his head while seated. At least you wouldn’t have his intense gaze on you. He was shirtless again, and you were finding it challenging to keep your eyes on his shoulder rather than the expanse of his broad back. On the other hand, kneading your fingers through his firm muscles was quite relaxing after staying at the edge of your seat with him all the time. “You gotta massage near my collarbones now.” 

And your relaxation period ended. 

Without missing a beat, he pulled your arm and made you stand between his legs. His firm grasp then placed your hand where you needed to massage him. You wanted to reprimand him for moving you around as if you didn’t know what to do next, but you kept to yourself to avoid pointless arguments. 

Your skin felt hot, massaging around the socket of his joint. Your heart couldn’t help but waver with how his shoulders’ muscles rippled with every little movement. The tattoos made him hotter. You didn’t want to find him hot. There were better things to focus on.

Like his thick neck with veins popping out of them whenever you’d accidentally press too hard while massaging. Or his strong jaw. His sharp, bold jawline. Up to his beautiful cheekbones, to his beautiful nose, down to his perfect plush lips. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to bring yourself back to reality. You should not be thirsting over your boss (you weren’t sure if you would call him that, but without Uraume around, he was the closest to one).

“...so why this?” 

“Huh?” You were so distracted by his beauty that you didn’t even realize he had asked you a question. 

“You told me you were gonna go to medical school after graduating, so why are you working?” It wasn’t hot in Sukuna’s room, but you could feel yourself break into a sweat. It felt humiliating to announce your goals to the world just to fail at achieving them.

“Oh, I thought Uraume would’ve told you by now. But I, uh- I got rejected.” There, it was like ripping off a bandaid. 

“They didn’t mention anything about it. Also, all five of them rejected you?” You ignored how your heart jumped over the fact that he still remembered your dream schools.  “Yeah, all five.” You had to look away from his bewildered face to hold on to some of your already deteriorating pride. 

“But that’s crazy. You worked so hard for it since the beginning.”

“Well, it wasn’t hard enough.” 

“Bullshit, they were blind.” Sukuna’s breathing started to become shallow, and Uraume instructed you not to get him worked up during his resting period. “Sukuna, I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re done with the massage.”

“But-” 

“Kuna, please.” 

You said it. You said his nickname. He would have been elated in a different context, but right now, it just felt like you were trying to shut him up. So he let you escape. He let you go back to your room. He knew he couldn’t pressure you into talking to him, but he was ready to be patient. 

—

I can’t wait for you guys to read what I have in store for the next chapter 😼

taglist: @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife @missthatgirl @iluv-ace @emoedgylord

[postcardsfromheapside]

No. I wasn't missing the point of most criticism. Literally, I saw post after post of people saying they wished the characters could be mean to each other. Some posts were more specific, like "I don't like Taash," (and I'm sure you can imagine what THAT'S about) and some were more ambigious but cited DA2 and how everyone was bitchy toward each other.

I honestly don't care where you work and what you do, because hopefully most of us after the age of 30 have experienced an adult job where we have to be reasonable with our coworkers, even if we strongly disagree, or outright dislike them. I had the suspicion that most people who think that there is "no conflict," or "low conflict" or "bad writing" in this game haven't experienced this kind of setting in any capacity. What I'm now hearing is that you might have, but you didn't absorb any of the dialogue, or switch out your party to listen to banter, which is an essential function for picking up information in any DA game.

I walked around Arlathan with Lucanis and Harding, and they have a whole ongoing conversation in which she threatens him with one of her special arrows. And he agrees that if Spite should take him over, she should do something about it. Harding isn't frightened, because Harding isn't a pushover, but she's not taking any shit either. Did you walk around with just the two of them right after recruiting Lucanis? Did you frequently visit the rest of the companions so that you could see just how much Lucanis and Davrin *didn't* get along? Neve mentions what sounded like a knock-down drag out fight.

**Just because this isn't explicitly mentioned to you doesn't make it bad writing - it means you haven't had the time we had with Inquisition to play the game over and over and switch out your party so you can see everyone's interactions with each other. You will actually have to play the game multiple times and switch your party out a fair amount in order to see these interactions. Or wait for people to post them to tumblr. You can complain about how unfair this is, or remember that Inquisition has 10 years on this game, and it's been out for just shy of a month.**

Why in the absolute fuck would Davrin manufacture conflict between himself and someone he could easily conjecture isn't pro-slavery based on the fact that within five minutes he could find out she's from Dock Town, she's a private investigator working with the Shadow Dragons, and LITERALLY WHEN YOU GET ONTO THE DOCK WITH HIM, her first priority as she's running back to Minrathous is to say "if the dragon wrecks havoc, the Venatori will take over." Davrin isn't an idiot, he could pretty well surmise that she's not "pro slavery" with only the barest of interactions and Rook saying "yeah Neve's cool."

Why would Neve yell at you? Why is it bad writing for the writers to give Neve a personality you don't agree with, because you're uncomfortable with how she reacts? Neve's an adult who is used to working on her own and people not showing up for her - she says this MULTIPLE TIMES - it's actually a large arc of bonding with her, as a friend and a lover. She's not going to scream at you, she's so far past the point of being loud about disappointment, she's on the other side, for one, and for another, she does in fact understand that the entire North of Thedas is on fire and blighting Treviso is pretty fucking bad when it has no major defenses. Rook doesn't endlessly apologize. She came back after a short pause and while I didn't have her healing abilities after that, it didn't take long for me to boost my bond with her back up and feel like we were friends again.

This honestly feels like you're having a personal reaction that you need to examine, and it's not something to do with the writing, since the game mechanics and the dialogue don't actually bear out what you're putting down here.

All of the companions who have conflict initially have to figure out how to trust each other and it sometimes takes most of the game for them to do that. If you didn't spend the time listening to their banter as they work their way through it, that's not Bioware's problem. That's you. And...I don't want to have repeated conversations where I go into Emmrich's (my romance) room and "vent"? I didn't do that with Cullen. I didn't do that with Anders. Why would it suddenly be a thing here? But if you listen in to people's conversations, they do express dismay and doubt and fear about the various quests they've been on. Again, it feels like you didn't spend the time eavesdropping or taking people out and listening to banter.

I have no idea what you're talking about with flirting. I flirted with every companion at first even though I knew I was running for Emmrich, and all of them responded according to their personality. I romanced Cullen in Inquisition, and he was pretty quiet initially, until you get to Skyhold, and similarly, most of the companions here retain a certain reticence until the game progresses. But if you're looking for people who get flustered - Lace and Bellara absolutely do! And Emmrich isn't flustered, but he's taken aback a few times before he collects himself and flirts back - though whether you'd actually recognize it for flirting, I'm starting to wonder. The fact that you can't tell with Neve is actually making me tilt my head at the screen, and I say this as a self-confessed disaster who is very very bad at knowing someone is interested. Even I can tell what's going on in DA romances.

This is probably a lost cause, but I urge you to either spend time playing the game again, or watch someone else who really loves DA (and is Veilguard positive) play so that you can watch without being in the thick of it, and hopefully experience more dialogue and different choices.

No, I'm not done yet, I'm house sitting and she left me snacks and soda and not even god could keep me from venting my spleen at this point.

"I wish the companions were meaner to each other in this game, like in DA2."

While I think there's a larger argument to be made discussing the similarities between DA2 and Veilguard, I need everyone to get so close to me right now about a glaring difference:

DA2 involved a ragtag group of assholes with their own agendas coalescing around Hawke's personality or exchange of favors. There was no larger "goal," except maybe Varric's expedition - everything else is encountered as circumstance. You wend your way through your companions' stories while a city winds ever tighter into itself, a spring about to literally explode.

There's zero reason for these people to be nice to each other. They have no point in being around each other except Hawke. They can bitch at each other all they like.

Rook becomes Varric's second in command (I've seen one post say it's about 6 months before the events of the game) with an explicit purpose: find and stop Solas. Harding and Neve are recruited as experts in their respective fields for this particular goal. When it all goes to shit, Neve recruits another expert, Lucanis, to deal with the fallout, and Harding finds Davrin, *also* an expert in his field (monster hunting). When Rook has to make a particularly consequence heavy decision, two more are added to the crew: Emmrich (Fade expert) and Taash (dragon expert). All of these people are extremely competent, and know from the jump that they have one particular goal in mind.

They join ready to work together on Day 1 because if they don't, there's simply no other alternative. It's lights out. Even when they mistrust each other, the direness of the situation is not lost on them. Infighting serves no purpose. That's why the struggle is directed inward: clean up your own house, so we can move as a single unit.

Honestly the fact that what people took away from this game was "I wish my friends were meaner to each other" and not "wow, I wish we all worked together to keep evil dictators from taking over" is fucking mindblowing when I sit back and reread this.

[woso-story]

Hero

Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon

Ingrid and Mapi were walking home after a wonderful night out with their friends. The streets were quiet, save for the faint hum of distant traffic and the crunch of fallen leaves beneath their boots. Ingrid's black dress fluttered slightly in the breeze, and Mapi had draped her jacket over her shoulders. They laughed softly, reliving the jokes and stories their friends had shared over dinner.

As they turned onto a dimly lit street, a group of men stumbled out of a nearby bar. They were loud, their words slurred with alcohol, and their attention quickly locked onto Ingrid and Mapi.

"Hey, ladies," one of them drawled, leering. "Looking good tonight. Especially you in that little dress."

Mapi shot them a warning glance, gripping Ingrid's hand a bit tighter, but Ingrid whispered, "Let's just keep walking."

"Don't ignore us, sweetheart", another man said. "We're just trying to be friendly. What's under that dress of yours, huh?"

Ingrid felt her stomach twist, but she kept her gaze forward.

Mapi, however, couldn't help but mutter, "Disgusting pigs," under her breath.

The men didn't take kindly to that.

"What did you say, huh? Got a smart mouth, don't you?" one of them sneered as they started following the pair.

They quickened their pace, but the men wouldn't let up.

"You two look like you could use some real men," another called out. "Bet you've never had someone show you what you're missing."

Mapi's jaw clenched, but Ingrid squeezed her hand. "Ignore them, Maria. Just get home."

But suddenly, one of the men lunged forward, grabbing Ingrid by the arm. His hand slid down to grope her ass, and she let out a sharp gasp.

Mapi didn't hesitate. She shoved the man away with a force that surprised even herself. "Don't you dare touch her!" she snarled, her voice low and dangerous.

The man stumbled back, laughing. "Fucking dykes,' he spat. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Another one stepped forward, his eyes locked on Ingrid. "You just need a man, sweetheart. You'll know what's good for you." His hand reached out again.

This time, Mapi didn't hold back. Her fist connected with his face, a sharp crack echoing through the street. The man staggered, clutching his nose as blood trickled between his fingers.

"Stay the hell away from her!" Mapi growled.

But the man's friend retaliated, grabbing Mapi and shoving her to the ground. Before any of the women could react, the man began kicking and punching Mapi viciously.

"Stop it! Help! Someone help!" Ingrid screamed, her voice breaking as she tried to get the man away from Mapi.

Fortunately, her cries didn't go unnoticed. A small group of passersby rushed to the scene, yelling at the men. Startled, the attackers fled, disappearing into the night.

Mapi groaned, struggling to sit up. Blood trickled from her split lip, and bruises were already forming on her cheek and arms.

"Ingrid," she murmured, trying to focus through the pain. "Are you okay?"

Ingrid's eyes brimmed with tears as she knelt beside her. "You're asking me that? Maria, you're hurt. We need to get you to a hospital."

She called an ambulance, and soon they were at the emergency room. Ingrid refused to leave Mapi's side, holding her hand tightly as doctors cleaned her wounds and confirmed nothing was broken, though she'd be sore for a few days.

Later that night, Alexia arrived, worry etched across her face "What happened?"

Mapi gave a weak grin, despite the swelling "Would you believe, if I would tell you that I tripped and fell?"

"Stop it. That's not funny" Ingrid slapped Mapi's arm and told Alexia what happened.

Alexia sighed, shaking her head. "You should've just walked away, Mapi. Next time, dont be a hero"

Esmee and Frido showed up shortly after, their expressions a mix of concern and relief when they saw Mapi sitting upright in the hospital bed.

The next morning, Mapi posted a selfie on Instagram, her face bruised and battered but her spirit undimmed. The caption read: "You fight for the people you love. 💪"

Ingrid commented almost immediately: "My hero 😇"

The post quickly went viral, with an outpouring of support and outrage from their fans. And while Mapi’s body ached for days, her heart swelled every time Ingrid looked at her with gratitude and love.

Ingrid knew one thing for sure: no matter what, María Pilar León would always have her back.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

January 1986

Steve sighed as he stepped out into the late January air. He loved visiting the quarry at this time of year, especially when he parents strolled into town. He took in the view with a smile. God, it really was beautiful. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who thought so. He spotted Eddie Munson's van parked not too far away. He recognized it from all the times he picked Dustin up from Hellfire. The side door was wide open. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and decided that he should go say hello. Dustin wanted them both to get to know each other, and he insisted that he had nothing to be jealous about.

"Hello? Munson?" Steve asked and peered into the van. "Eddie?"

That's when he heard it. Someone screaming. His instincts immediately kicked in, and he ran towards the sound. Steve reached the edge of the quarry and saw Eddie clinging to a ledge.

"Oh my god! What are you doing?!" Steve exclaimed.

"Well, gee, Harrington, I thought I'd get a better view - I fucking fell!" Eddie shrieked.

"Grab my hand!" Steve yelled.

Steve laid on his stomach and threw his arm down. Eddie didn't waste a second and grabbed his hand. Steve secured himself and started pulling Eddie up, but it was awkward. Steve groaned as he tried to pull him up.

"Okay! You know what? Just let me go, man, I can swim!" Eddie yelled.

"At this height, that water turns into concrete, and then you turn into mashed potatoes!" Steve exclaimed.

"You just had to put that image into my head!" Eddie shrieked. "You're fucking with me!"

"Yeah, that's right! I want to be known as the person who saved Eddie Munson's life!" Steve yelled.

"With all that hero hair, I bet you do!" Eddie yelled.

"You're so fucking - "

He was infuriating, and with that, Steve managed to find something inside of him to pull Eddie up. They stumbled backward, Eddie falling into his arms. Eddie clung to him, pressing his face into his shoulder and breathing him in.

"What were you about to say?" Eddie gasped.

"I was going to say that you were so fucking annoying," Steve said. "So annoying that I managed to use that to yank you up."

"So, what you're saying is that I saved my life," Eddie said. "I knew I could do it."

Steve laughed and loosened his grip. Suddenly, Eddie squeezed on tighter with a loud squeak.

"Eddie?"

"Don't let me go," he whimpered.

"Yeah, okay, I got you," he said softly and pressed his cheek to the top of his head, stroking hair hair gently.

"I just came out here because. . .I'm afraid of heights," Eddie said. "And I thought that I could just get over it by coming and putting my feet over the edge. It was so dumb. No one else knows about it. . .well, except you."

"Any other fears I should know about?" Steve asked.

"Ducks. You better not fucking tell anyone," Eddie said. "It's bad enough that Jeff mocks me for it, and now Dustin."

"I don't blame you. They look like freaky looking dinosaurs," Steve said. "I mean, I'm not afraid of them, but I totally get it."

"You're the only who does," Eddie said, letting out a dry sob. "You smell nice, by the way."

Eddie got up off of Steve and helped him up. He started dusting the gravel out of Steve’s hair before working his way down to dust off his back and then. . .

"Eddie, that's my ass! You're basically smacking my ass," Steve said, blushing.

"I'm just trying to be as helpful as you were with me," Eddie said and then scowled. "How the hell is this thing so bouncy?"

"Okay!" Steve said whirling around.

"Your cheeks are pink, you as cold as I am?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah. I got a blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate in my car," Steve said. "You want some?"

"It's kismet! I actually got space in the back of my van for once," Eddie said.

Steve grabbed the thermos and the blanket. He crawled into the back with Eddie and threw the blanket over the both of them. They leaned back against the wall of the van, facing the open door. He poured some hot chocolate for Eddie.

"I make it myself," Steve said.

"Goddamn, this is good!" Eddie grinned. "You really like it with extra chocolate."

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Hmm, me, too," Eddie said. "What else is in here?"

"Can't tell you, it's my secret," he said.

"I nearly died, and you can't tell me your secret ingredient?!" He asked in disbelief.

"No!" Steve laughed as Eddie invaded his space. "You don't know what boundaries are, do you?"

"You tell me to back off, and I will," Eddie replied.

"It's fine," he blushed.

"I seriously want to think you for saving my life, Steve," Eddie said as he sipped his hot chocolate. "I never wanted to believe that someone like you could be such a good dude."

"I'm sorry," Steve said.

"For what?" He asked.

"That jocks like me have put you through so much hell that that it's made you believe so poorly in the sport," Steve said.

"Well, I suppose it happens with every group. I mean, most people think all metalheads are satanic and evil," Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

"When really they're all a bunch of teddy bears," Steve smirked.

"Shut up," Eddie said. "I suppose we all make assumptions."

"Well, Dustin was right about you. You're a great guy," Steve said.

"Not that I care about what little shrimp thinks," Eddie scoffs, blushing. "Besides, he totally worships you."

"He does?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah, I was super jealous as hell, by the way," he said.

"Yeah, me too," Steve said.

"What brings you out here?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, uh, my parents are actually home for once," Steve said.

"You don't like them, or they don't like you?" Eddie asked.

"I don't like them because they don't like me," Steve replied.

"Damn."

"Yeah. . .my dad is still ragging on me to join him at his company selling insurance, but I do not want to do that," Steve said. "On top of that, they're trying to pick out the girl they want me to marry."

"Jesus," Eddie said. "They can't do that, can they?"

"Well, they have the power to make me homeless, which they have brought up several times," Steve said.

"They're threatening you?! Yeah, I can see why you want to hide from them," Eddie said. "Why are they trying to force you to marry a girl?"

"It's complicated," he said.

"Oh, come on, I saved your life, you owe me," Eddie teased.

"Uh, that's the other way around, asshole," Steve said and laughed.

"You don't have to say anything, man, if you don't want to," Eddie said.

"They walked in on my fucking my now ex-boyfriend. . .who ended things, but apparently I wasn't worth it," Steve said. "So, now they're trying to cover up the fact that their precious boy isn't a freak."

"Jesus, okay, yeah, your parents are fucked in the head. You can't help being gay," Eddie said.

"Bisexual, actually," Steve said.

"Okay, context clues. . .judging by the fact that bi means more than one and sexual means - okay, yeah, okay, I got it, don't explain it to me," Eddie said, and Steve giggled. "You got anywhere else to go? Like people who actually care."

"I mean, yeah, but - "

"If they truly care about you, you're never a burden, no matter how much you mess up," Eddie said. "It took me a long time to realize that with Uncle Wayne."

"Yeah, I got a few people," he blushed.

"Good," Eddie said.

"So, how often do you need saving from yourself?" Steve asked. "Is it a regular occurence?"

"Wayne would tell you that, yes, I can barely get out of the trailer without tripping over my own feet," Eddie said.

"It sounds like you might need me around to save you then," Steve smiled.

"I definitely could, and you being around to pull me off the ledge would save the rest of Wayne's hair," he said, flashing his dimples.

"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me, then," he said.

"I like to think that I'm worth it," Eddie said.

"I'm definitely starting to see that," Steve said.

"You know, if I were your boyfriend, I think I would have stayed and fought your parents for you. You're definitely worth it," Eddie said, casually sipping his hot chocolate. "So, how serious was this boyfriend of yours?"

"I mean, not very," Steve said. "I wasn't heartbroken when he left. Hey, wait a minute. . .Eddie, do you want to be my boyfriend?"

"Oh, I thought you would never ask!" Eddie exclaimed and kissed his cheek. "Hell yeah, big boy!"

"I wasn't - I mean, you know, what never mind," Steve chuckled. "It worked out."

"Yeah, it did," Eddie said, snuggling into him.

"So, how hard are you going to test my ability to keep you alive?" Steve asked.

"Oh, you have no idea!"

They continued to talk for a long time until they could no longer feel their extremities.

LATER. . .

Steve followed Eddie into his trailer as he barrelled through the front door. Wayne jumped as the front door slammed open.

"Boy, what have I told you about slamming that door and scaring me like that?" Wayne asked.

"To keep it up. You know how you told me that this trailer wasn't big enough for me to be bringing girls over?" Eddie asked. "Well, I found a loophole! I brought a boy home instead!"

"I didn't know you liked boys," Wayne said.

"Until today, I didn't realize that I did either," Eddie said with a grin.

Steve closed the front door behind him and quickly turned to Eddie.

"What?" Steve asked.

"It wasn't until this angel saved me from falling to my death, and no, I'm not being dramatic, that I realized that I also like the boys, specifically this boy," Eddie said.

"I should have suspected this when you offered to introduce me to your uncle," he grinned. "But I didn't realize that you didn't know about yourself until today."

"Sorry," Eddie said. "So, I know it's last minute, but he'll be sleeping in my bed for a few days until he moves into his new place."

"You really save his life?" Wayne asked.

"Oh, yeah," Steve said. "Idiot looked too far over the quarry and nearly fell in."

"Eddie!" Wayne yelled and then laughed. "Sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Steve Harrington," he said and held out his hand for Wayne to shake.

"Steve Harrington, huh?" he asked in amusement as he shook his hand. "Well, thank you, Steve Harrington, for saving my boy."

"It was no problem," he said.

"Enjoy your hair while you can because you're in for it," he said, and Steve snorted at Eddie's yelp. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want."

"He makes wonderful hot chocolate," Eddie said. "Come on."

He followed Eddie into his bed and watched him rush around the room to make it more presentable.

"Eddie," Steve said.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure about this? It's all happening so fast, and I just want to make sure that you're not jumping in because I saved your life," Steve said.

"I've been struggling with my sexuality for a long time now because other people just automatically make the assumption that just because I'm a freak that I'm also queer," Eddie sighed, "And condsidering that it came from people who just wanted to beat me up all the time, the more I wanted to prove them wrong. Then you came along, and all I wanted to do was to finally stop fighting it. You did that, and it wasn't because you saved my life. It's because you held me after and you didn't let me go. You made me feel safe."

Steve smiled. He cupped Eddie's face and kissed him.

"You made me feel safe, too, right here and right now," Steve said. "Thanks for giving me a place to run to. Hold me?"

"Done."

Eddie dropped the clothes he was holding and pulled Steve onto the bed, right into his safe arms. He didn't have to worry about his parents ever again.

"You're trying to seduce me for my hot chocolate recipe, aren't you?" Steve asked and Eddie laughed.

"You got me!"

Steve smiled as Eddie's laughter caused them both to shake. He pressed his ear close to his chest. He closed his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of Eddie's heartbeat and laughter.