#thank god i don't have classes this weekend because i would collapse

[yohankang]

my daily routine: i'm extremely anxious for about 90% of the day and i feel like i can't do this anymore and then i get like. 1 hour of clarity (post-finishing a task) and i'm like okay maybe i'll get through this somehow. and then the horrors start again

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Heliophilia || Yuji/Reader ||

Rating: Mature Warnings: Sadfic, angst Relationships: Itadori Yuuji/Reader Additional Tags: Oh boi do we love not to have plot, Plot is for wimps, Angst, Heavy Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Slight comfort/fluff because the flashbacks are so lovely but other than that, JJK makes me so in my feelings, In my feelings about Yuji, Absolute Angst, Mature because of some detailed sex Summary: Then why are you hurting me? You wanted to scream back. But you knew — that horrible, sickly type of knowing, like the looming death of a loved one or the scent of a lie — that Yuji was not breaking up with you because he didn’t love you. That wasn’t it.

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for quite a while. I don't know why I'm so obsessed with it! Please tell me if you spot any errors or anything! Might write a companion piece. Read on ao3!

“I’m sorry,” Yuji’s voice fractured, resisting tears. Emotion was so pronounced in his atonement you could feel the pain living in his throat in your own. “I’m so, so sorry, (Y/n) …”

You faced away from him, back turned from him. Your nails bit into the leather of your jacket so. Your face hot, the threat of tears in your eyes, as well. You tried to focus on the blissful white noise of the fountain, pouring forth its waters in elegant streams, and not Yuji’s aching, agonized breathing.

“It all works out, doesn’t it?” You choked. “If you’re really sorry, you can use all this misery to fuel your cursed energy, can’t you? Not a total loss then —“

“Don’t talk like that!”

Yuji gripped your shoulders, forcefully turning you to face him.

“I love you!” he pleaded. “You know that! Don’t you ever say things like that! I love you, I just — I can’t — we can’t —“

Then why are you hurting me? You wanted to scream back. But you knew — that horrible, sickly type of knowing, like the looming death of a loved one or the scent of a lie — that Yuji was not breaking up with you because he didn’t love you. That wasn’t it. Silence stretched between the two of you in the edenic park and it carried the weight of years, filling the agonizing space.

Then why are you hurting me?

I love you but I’m a sorcerer. I love you but I’m Sukuna’s vessel. I love you but everything’s dying around me. I love you but I couldn’t protect Junpei and one day I won’t be able to protect you, either.

You found yourself laser-focused on Yuji’s hands pressed into your shoulders and wanted to prolong his touch. Finally, the tears began to fall, along with a sob that ransacked your lungs. You lowered your gaze to his chest, the urge to sink into him astounding.

“I love you,” Yuji repeated. “Please believe me …”

Please believe me.

I do.

You managed the last remnants of your strength to pull away from Yuji, one last time. You resisted the heavying ache in your chest as Yuji sunk to his knees, hugging yours. You yanked him away, walking away from the fountain.

“Goodbye, Yuji.”

In hindsight, you would never understand how the possibility of it being the final time you ever saw your ex-boyfriend Yuji didn’t bring you running back to him.

But you kept walking.

You flicked the blaring red reject button so hard on your phone it almost fled from your hand, slamming it on the nightstand and sinking back into the grove of sheets.

He wouldn’t stop calling.

It had started that night, having gotten back to your apartment. Thank the gods you lived alone; you broke everything in plain sight. By the time it was over, you were slumped onto the hallway floor, the kitchen floor a sea of broken plate glass, the pillows emptied of their stuffing, vases destroyed. All culminating in your neighbors hurriedly running over, thumping on the door, asking are you okay, we heard crashing, god, we thought there was a fight, are you sure you’re alone? Are you safe? Should we call the cops?

You waved them off best you could, but surely you were not nearly as convincing as you wanted to be with tear-reddened eyes and a croaked voice.

Just a hard time, is all. Just anxiety. I’m going through it, okay? I’ll be fine.

You refused to talk, but that hardly mattered — once it all hushed down, Yuji started.

Messages. Dms. Snapchat. Instagram. Anything he could use you get a hold of you was used to try and talk to you, clear things up, explain. You disabled it all, ironically thankful for the isolation his insistence was situating you in. And somehow you managed to get to sleep that night.

Now, two days later, the ritual was the same. Your phone blared to life, ringing a tone you now thought horrible into the air. You would rush to reject it, slam on nightstand, back to bed.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

You didn’t rise. You didn’t eat. Papers dedicated to different classes sprawled on your office desk, unsure of when you’d be able to get to any of it. Probably never; college seemed such a distant, small thing in the face of losing Yuji, hardly worth a paltry thought in your mind.

Five, afternoon passed. No call. By now, Yuji had to have been persuaded by someone else to stop hounding you — Megumi, probably discouraging him, even taking his phone away from him, maybe.

You’d never know.

Another thought, this one piercing your heart with unexpected ferocity — you even bucked as it arrived to upset you:

Maybe he was dead.

You’d never know.

Whatever relief you had felt as the hour passed into another and no call livened your phone was gone, replaced with grief.

And … longing.

You would’ve done anything to talk to him.

Please, you thought, twisting toward your nightstand, eyeing your phone. Please, call again. I promise I’ll pick up. Yuji …

Your phone did nothing, resting on your stand, black and unresponsive.

The first thing you grew to miss was his voice.

Your mornings would begin with his soft acknowledgment before being accompanied by lips pressed to your forehead — “Morning, (Y/n).” — your evenings full with Yuji, tailing you around the apartment, helping you with chores, telling all about some new show he’d binged over the weekend of some new movie he snuck off to see.

It was … so quiet now. The silence lived in your ears, so pronounced it served as its own sound. After a few days, you felt well enough to at least clean up what you had destroyed. After the chaos you had caused all that remained was a trashed apartment and uncomfortable tranquility.

The process of cleaning bestowed on you a new ache to refresh the others; usually at times like this. Cleaning day, at any normal time in your life —

“And then he picked up the bad guy’s gun,” Yuji continues, absentmindedly clearing the table of trash, dropping items into the large black trash bag.

“Mhm,” you hum back loving, reaching on your tiptoes to dust behind a picture frame. “Yeah?”

“And he shoots the bad guy and he misses,” Yuji awes from behind you, “only he doesn’t miss — they just make us think he misses because when the camera cuts back he’s —“

“Yuji?” you turn to him, eyebrows raised.

Yuji’s cheeks are reddening. “Heh. Sorry, was I rambling again?”

“It’s okay,” You drop the duster to the floor, peck him on the cheek. “Let’s just finish cleaning this table.”

But of course, he doesn’t stop — Yuji is excited and bubbly, especially when he helps you, and his anecdotes from movies, or shows, or sorcerer life, distract you from the grunt work of cleaning day — or any day.

You were miserably aware of the ringing silence, nestled in the space Yuji’s voice used to live as you cleared the table of plastic cups and empty plates all on your own.

The second thing you grew to miss was his kiss.

Yuji had been your first kiss and your lips craved the attention of his.

You were in class, your college professor rambling about some eighteen-hundreds writer while you twiddled your pencil. You bit into your lips hoping to satiate them, but it only worsened your yearning. The classroom began to fall away as memory tugged at your mind.

“(Y/n).”

Yuji’s voice carries your name so tenderly you almost fail to recognize it. You look at him as the first round of fireworks explodes in the summer night’s sky.

“New Year’s Eve, Yu-Yu,” you said, your own soft voice trembling. “Did you make a wish?”

“Wish? Heh, No, but there … is something I wanted to do.”

You part your lips as Yuji eliminates the space between the two of you, inch by cursed inch.

You swallow, letting the moment hang as sparks fly behind Yuji’s head.

“What?” You ask.

But your inquiry dies away as Yuji banishes the final inch.

His lips descend on yours. Soft, warm, sweet. He moves little, tentative, before your arms wrap around his shoulders and invite him closer.

“(Y/n), I —“

You refuse his words, cupping the back of Yuji’s head to re-close the gap between you.

He doesn’t attempt to speak again, pressing you against the railing of the park while his lips caress yours. Fireworks whistle behind you as they combust in the sky, showering down in luculent streams.

His kisses, then and thereafter, are loving, lingering — gentle until they are not; the union of lips dissolves into sloppy angles and reddened lips. Harsh breaths and Yuji bucking into your body, eager for more.

“Miss (Y/n)!”

You jerked. Raised your head.

“I have a hard time believing you’ve not heard your name once these past seven times I’ve called it,” Your professor glared.

No, I haven’t.

“I’m sorry, professor. Repeat the question, please.”

Your hand balled in your fist. You shouldn’t miss him. You shouldn’t miss him.

But you do. And the list of things you’ll miss will only continue to grow.

The third thing you grew to miss was his touch.

You shifted on the couch, painfully aware of the lack of Yuji’s presence at your back, snuggling into you from behind, legs intertwined into yours.

“Yuji …” you giggle. “Stop it …”

“What?” Yuji snuggles the back of your neck before finding his way into your crook. “I’m not even …”

Language dies as the two of you collapse into giggles. The tv plays a movie neither of you hold much interest in now that Yuji’s finds his way into your shirt, tickling the sensitive flesh at your sides.

“Yuji!”

“What?” he patterns your neck with kisses, pressing you closer to him with an armlock around your waist. He is so strong and holds you to him as you squirm.

Finally, you give in, cupping his face with your hand, you bring him in for a kiss. He hums into the kiss and reciprocates immediately, pressing into you properly —

A gunshot from a crime show you left on yanked you into reality. You blinked, sunk into the sheets, letting the tv’s artificial light fall over you.

Reality, where the blankets cannot compare to the boy you have lost.

But the thing you’d miss the most?

Yuji warms his cock inside of you as you burn red, hot lines into his back with your nails. He stains your perspired forehead with kisses as he empties his seed into you. His hips swerve, providing friction to your exhausted clit. You whine into his shoulder, furrowing your brow as your orgasm takes you.

“Ah — ah …! Yuji …!”

Yuji rocks into you a few more times, crescendoing your climax before hooking a hand underneath your knee and rolling in bed so you are side by side. You bite your lip, grind your clit on his strong thigh before settling, resting your head on his shoulder.

The silence is effortlessly serene and comfortable.

But Yuji breaks the silence. “(Y/n)?”

You smile, looking up at him from your place on his chest. “Yeah?”

“I …” he looks away, blush flourishing on his face. “I really love you alot, you know?”

You match his blush with one of your own as your eyes widen. Yuji overcomes some of his embarrassment to caress your cheek with his hand.

“I …” You trail, placing a hand over the one that currently holds your face. “I love you, too, Yuji.”

Even worn from sex, Yuji manages to perk, light coming to his mocha eyes. He smiles back at you.

“That’s good.”

You kiss his cheek, settling by his side for the night.

Yuji is the only warmth you know and the only light you recognize. You allow him to blanket you, shield you from any cold that exists.

“Thanks for that.”

You leaned against the headboard, a thousand-mile stare burning into the wall opposite to you. The aftermath of your sex slumped horribly in your stomach. Your guest zipped up his pants, reaching for his shirt next.

“Yeah,” You replied, absentminded and silent. “Yeah, sure.”

“Next time, okay?”

Your insides screamed to reject but instead:

“Yeah, okay.”

Your one-night stand left, leaving you thudding your head against the headboard. It hadn’t been bad, even unpleasant, it had been … fine. Cold. Impersonal. Impartial. You had never had fine. Not with Yuji.

Yuji, you grieved.

You turned your head to your phone, your hope of Yuji’s call blown out by its perennial blackness.

You clutched a hand to your heart, hollowed out from longing.

His love came last.

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter Nine

Summary: Cassian and Nesta finally meet. Officially, this time. Let the romance commence. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: very brief/non-explicit mention of sexual assault Bittersweet Masterlist

“Earth to Nesta?”

Nesta snapped from her trance to see Emerie waving a hand in front of her face.

“You’ve been cleaning the same spot for a good ten minutes,” Emerie gestured to where Nesta was scrubbing the counter with a towel. It was squeaky clean.

Nesta let go of the towel and cleared her throat. “My bad.”

Emerie pulled out the chair on the other side of the counter and sat down. It was eleven in the evening on a Monday, and they had just closed. The only other person in Rita’s was Lucien, and he was doing dishes in the back.

“You’ve been acting weird for the past two weeks,” Emerie stated blatantly. Her stare was unwavering. “And you’ve lost at least ten pounds.”

The incidence with Tomas happened two weeks ago. Nesta was doing a pretty good job of moving on with her life all things considered. She felt like shit, but she hadn’t missed a single shift at work. That had to count for something.

But she should’ve known Emerie would notice. She was like a fucking hawk, that girl. She saw everything.

When Nesta didn’t say anything, Emerie shrugged and got up from the stool. “At least try a little harder,” she said, referring to the coworkers’ challenge to get the most tips. She shot Nesta a sad look. “Thesan is beating you. Thesan.”

Nesta mustered a laugh. Thesan wasn’t great with customers, that was common knowledge. Neither Emerie nor Nesta were people persons, but they knew how to turn it on for customers. Thesan, on the other hand, didn’t make much of an effort. It wasn’t that he was intentionally rude, the guy was just quiet in nature. In fact, he was quite a sweetheart.

Which was why it was quite entertaining to watch Thesan and Helion interact. Where Thesan was an introvert, Helion was loud as hell. Not to mention it was clear that Thesan was crushing on him. But unfortunately, Helion flirted with every living, breathing thing and was thus completely oblivious. During Nesta’s first week at Rita’s, Emerie had spilled all the tea about their coworkers. Thesan was head over heels in love with Helion, Helion had never been in a monogamous relationship, and Viviane… well, Viviane had her own little love story. A complicated one at that.

His name was Kallias. They grew up together, from scheming little kids to rebellious teenagers to young adults. Best friends since they could remember.

Because Emerie grew up in the same small town as them, she knew everything. They all went to school together. She knew that Kallias had been in love with Viviane since freshman year of high school. She knew that Viviane felt the same way, but she would never admit it thanks to the hell she was put through during her childhood. Nesta didn’t know the specifics, and she never asked.

It also didn’t help that Viviane was in a relationship with someone else. They’d been together for almost two years. Emerie thought Viviane deserved better, that he wasn’t a very good person.

Anyway, Kallias visited Rita’s nearly every weekend after his shift at the fire station to grab a drink and more importantly, see Viviane.

Nesta thought it was ridiculous. She’d told Emerie as much when she’d brought Nesta up to date on their coworkers’ lives. Why wouldn’t they just admit they loved each other and get on with it already? It was pretty fucking simple; they were just making it complicated for themselves. Emerie wholeheartedly agreed and the pair then went on an hour long rant on the idiocy of romantic relationships.

And if she was being honest, Nesta didn’t care much about these people. Sure, they were respectable but they were a temporary fixture in her life. Once she secured a job in her career field, she was going to leave them all behind.

“We should get a drink sometime. Outside of work,” Emerie clarified with a look of disgust. “I’m sick of it here.”

Nesta knew that was a lie based on the relationship Emerie had with Rita and her wife. But she didn’t say that.

“Maybe,” Nesta responded distractedly, desperate to think of an excuse. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Emerie; no, Nesta liked her coworker. She just couldn’t muster the energy to go out with friends or socialize like that. “I’m pretty busy right now though.”

Emerie narrowed her eyes and scrutinized her.

“Stop analyzing me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Emerie sighed and receded. She hesitated before saying quietly, “Is… is this the part when I ask if you’re okay and we get all deep and explore a new level of our friendship?”

Nesta slowly met her friend’s gaze. They stared at one another for several moments.

Then, they burst out laughing.

-------------------------

The next morning, Nesta was brewing her third cup of coffee when Elain padded into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Elain yawned as a greeting. She wore bunny slippers and an oversized hoodie. Elain only had one evening class on Tuesdays, so today was her only day - save for the weekend - to sleep in.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“How long have you been up?”

Nesta glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty. She’d woken up at six after a sleepless night of tossing and turning.

But she simply shrugged instead. “Not long.”

Nesta poured the coffee into her mug, sitting back down at the counter. She watched as Elain bustled around the kitchen, scrambling eggs and slicing fruit. The morning light spilled through the dusty kitchen sink window, bars of sunshine reflecting off the tiled floors. Iroh basked in the sunspots, his black fur glistening as his chartreuse eyes blinked closed.

Elain and Nesta hadn’t spent much time together in the past couple weeks. It was Nesta’s doing, of course. She was actively avoiding her sister and everyone else. After Elain had tried to talk to Nesta after the whole thing with Tomas, she stopped asking Nesta if she was okay. Nesta assumed that Elain realized she wasn’t going to get an answer, that there wasn't really a point in trying.

But Gods, Nesta fucking missed her. And even though she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her bedroom as she sat there in the kitchen, she didn’t move from the chair.

You need them as much as they need you, her father’s voice echoed in her head.

Guilt stabbed at her chest.

“How’re classes going?” Nesta asked quietly. Elain looked at her over her shoulder with a surprised yet pleasant smile.

“Great! I’m so grateful to be at such a great college, but…” Elain bit her lip, hesitating. “My bio lab is going to be the death of me."

“You know you’re allowed to complain, right?”

Elain just gave her a smile. “Yeah, I know. It's just, considering where I was a year ago, I couldn't be happier to finally be enrolled in such a prestigious program. Even if that means the classes are brutal."

I wish I was like you. I take everything for granted.

“And have you made any friends?”

Elain had started school at Pryth U months ago and yet Nesta had no idea if she even had friends yet.

Selfish bitch.

A fond smile broke out on Elain’s face. “Yes, I have this really great group of friends: Lucien, Ressina, and Varian. It's just the four of us, but we've gotten really close.”

Nesta asked Elain more questions before excusing herself back to her room, claiming she was going to try to write today, to which Elain squealed and wished her luck.

Nesta hadn't written since their dad died. Prior to his death, she would write nearly every day. She'd been working on a novel for years. The plot had came to her in middle school, and it just grew from there. She'd never told anyone about it. Everyone knows how fucking hard it is to get your writing published, much less get high ratings. Nesta wasn't even sure if she was going to finish it. This was the longest she'd gone without writing or editing it. And she had a feeling that she wouldn't ever go back to it.

Dread filled her stomach as she thought of that prospect. What the fuck was she doing with her life?

Nesta’s phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her back pocket.

 Incoming call from Feyre Archeron.

It kept buzzing, Nesta merely stared at her sister's name on her screen. She couldn't think of a single reason why Feyre would be calling. But she pressed "Accept" before it could go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

Silence.

“Uh, what’s up?” Nesta asked. She collapsed onto her unmade bed. Iroh scampered past the door and jumped on the bed with her. He didn't waste a minute curling himself around her head.

"I was calling to see… maybe, I don’t know… uh, would you want to come to dinner tonight?”

I was not expecting that. And Nesta was about 95% sure this was Elain’s doing.

“Why?”

“I want you there," Feyre told her as if it were obvious.

“Why?” Nesta asked again. She hadn't seen Feyre since Thanksgiving despite her sister living just on the outskirts of the city.

That had been weeks ago.

“It's complicated," Feyre responded quietly. She seemed to pause before finding the words. "I've been so worried about Cassian, we all have. He'd never been deployed for that long - five months. It was scary. I guess I took that out on you. I don't know why..."

She drifted off. Nesta held her breath.

"I'm sure Elain told you, but he's home now. I've been more myself since he returned, and I want you to come to dinner. I… miss you.”

She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know, Feyre.”

I don't know if I can pretend to be okay for an entire night. I don't know if you even fucking want me there or if you just feel obligated. I don't know if I can be in the same room as your douchebag boyfriend. I don't know if I can be surrounded by your friends, most of whom seem to dislike me. I don't know if I can behave like a normal fucking person.

I don't know.

“Please?” The plea was soft, quiet. It was like she was almost desperate. But for what?

Nesta looked out the window where a blue jay - their dad's favorite bird - was perched on a bare tree branch. The leaves had long ago fallen, leaving the world naked and vulnerable. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

-------------------------

Feyre embraced her with an awkward hug when Nesta and Elain walked into the house. Nesta patted her on the back lightly, uncomfortable with the physical touch. Luckily, no one else seemed incline to embrace her. Rhys actually seemed to make sure he was as far away as possible.

Elain, on the other hand, gave everyone a hug. Mor gave a laugh as she squeezed Elain back, Aurra watching them with a smile. Interestingly enough, when Elain greeted Azriel with a hug, his tanned cheeks glowed red. It was almost imperceptible, but Nesta noticed.

Feyre took a step back to assess her. Nesta could see the judgement in her sister's eyes as she took in Nesta's noticeably thinner body. Luckily, however, she wasn't given the chance to comment on it when Elain piped up, "Where's Cassian? Nesta still hasn't met him yet."

"He's running a bit late," Rhys answered, glancing down at his phone. "Should be here in about ten minutes."

Everyone began to make their way into the dining room and Nesta followed. However, she was quickly tugged to the side when Amren swooped in out of nowhere and basically dragged Nesta into the privacy of the hallway. She stopped, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Nesta.

“Where have you been?” Amren demanded.

"What do you mean?" Nesta asked, playing dumb.

She hadn't spoken to Amren in a long time, even though they had each others' numbers. Even though Amren had repeatedly texted her, asking to get coffee or go for a walk or something else of the sorts. All of which went unanswered.

Amren rolled her eyes, and Nesta was convinced they went to the back of her head for a good minute. "Don't play dumb with me, Nesta."

“I don’t know, working?"

"Is that a question?" Amren rose a deadly brow.

Nesta huffed and mirrored Amren's angry stance. "Why are you interrogating me?"

“Because you've been radio silent for weeks. I had to ask Elain if you were still fucking alive," Amren explained. Then, she leaned in close like she didn't want anyone to hear. "I was worried about you, you bitch."

Nesta let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, okay? I've been busy. I do want to hang out, it's just that..." she trailed off.

"What? It's just that what?"

Nesta stared at the floor, unable to form words.

"Nesta, are you okay?" Amren asked, her voice softer.

Just tell her. Fucking tell her.

I was almost raped.

Just the thought was enough to make Nesta want to puke. She couldn't, it was too much and she wouldn't even be able to fucking say it and it's her fault, all her fault.

She breathed in through her nose and looked back up at Amren. She shot her the most fake smile she'd ever given. "I'm good. Seriously, I just got busy. It won't happen again."

Nesta saw the skepticism in Amren's eyes. But she conceded with a small sigh. "Well, don't do it again, okay? I seriously thought you were fucking murdered or some shit."

Nesta just nodded. Amren looked at her once more before gesturing with her chin back to the dining room. Nesta followed her.

When they rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Because sitting next to Feyre was the man who had tried to break into her apartment.

“Nesta!" Feyre exclaimed, calling her over from where she sat. "This is Cassian. Cassian, this is my sister, Nesta.”

Nesta simply stared at him like a deer in headlights and he stared at her, his lips parted in surprise. He was wearing a grey sweater, his long hair hanging down, no longer in a bun like it was the last time. He tucked it behind one ear.

"Are you stalking me or something?" Nesta said incredulously.

"I could ask you the same," Cassian retorted cheekily.

Feyre looked between them, a confused expression written on her face. "Do you guys know each other or something?"

"Something like that," Nesta mumbled.

Everyone's eyes were on them as they waited for an answer.

"Well as everyone knows, I live in the same building as Nesta and Elain," Cassian explained, waving a hand to the two sisters. "The other night, I got stupid drunk with a friend. He drove me back to my place and me, drunk off my fucking ass, tried to get into their apartment thinking it was mine."

The entire room erupted into laughter, Rhys choking on his food and Azriel looking up as if reasoning with the Gods.

"So when Nesta opened the door," Cassian continued, "she nearly beat me to death with a baseball bat."

Another round of laughter.

"Overreact much?"

Everyone's eyes flew to where Nesta sat. They seemed shocked. Nesta was too.

She didn't know why she said it, why she let it bother her. He was just so fucking frustrating, even his mere presence.

Cassian stuck his tongue out at her.

Feyre interrupted, her jaw agape. "You guys are acting like children."

Nesta got quiet after that. The conversation continued, thankfully taking the attention off her. As everyone laughed and conversed, Cassian looked over at her. His smile disappeared when he met Nesta's gaze. She just stared back at him, lips in a thin line. He seemed to try to gauge her reaction carefully, but her face was blank.

And so the night went on. Nesta didn't say another word after what happened. She avoided eye contact with Cassian. Avoided conversation with everyone.

It was half past eight when they all began clearing their dishes. Mor, Aurra, Azriel, and Cassian were all gathered in the kitchen cleaning up. Feyre and Rhys had excused themselves. It was just Nesta and Elain who remained in the dining room.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Nesta leaned over to whisper to Elain.

Elain nodded. "We'll head out right after, yeah?" She must've noticed the exhaustion in Nesta's face.

Nesta agreed, excusing herself from the table.

She walked down the hallway, peeking through every door to find the bathroom. She was about to push through a door on the left that was slightly cracked open when she heard voices coming from within.

“I’m worried about him. He’s not the same.” It was Feyre.

“He never is when he comes home, Feyre," Rhys said dejectedly. "It’s happened before. Cass just needs time.”

Cass.

Nesta tiptoed closer to the door, just enough for her to listen.

“No, what he needs is to see someone!”

“I’ve tried. He doesn’t want to go.”

“Try harder, Rhys!” Feyre cried, her tone frustrated.

“We can’t just force him to go, okay?”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing? Do you even notice how lost your own fucking brother is? Do you even care?!”

Silence.

“Rhysand, I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry. I know you care. More than anyone. I just… I don’t want to lose him.”

She heard them both breathing deeply.

“C’mere,” Rhys murmured. Nesta heard Feyre's footsteps as she presumably walked toward him.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Together.”

“Always, Feyre darling.”

They got quiet, probably embracing each other. Nesta crept away from their bedroom door and into the bathroom before they could find her.

------------------------------------

Elain and Nesta had just unlocked their apartment door when Nesta groaned. “Oh, shit, I forgot my wallet in the car." She fished around in her bag to make sure it wasn't in there. "I’ll be right back.”

"I'll leave the door unlocked," Elain called behind her as Nesta made her way to the elevator.

She stepped between the doors, hitting the button for the parking garage. Gods, she just wanted to go to sleep. The night had been exhausting.

After a minute or so, she was approaching her car. She unlocked her door and grabbed her wallet that was in the middle console when a pair of headlights flashed past her, a car pulling into the spot next to her.

Before panic could set in, Nesta recognized who was driver the car through the window.

Cassian.

His car turned off and he emerged from the driver's door just a moment later. He looked over where Nesta was clutching her wallet to her chest staring at him. He gave her a tight-lipped smile before turning away and walking towards the elevator. Nesta had no choice to follow.

She walked just a few feet behind him as they made their way to the elevator.

"I'm sorry," Cassian told her, his voice sincere. He cast a concerned glance her way. "For embarrassing you at dinner. And if I scared you that night."

"You didn't embarrass me," Nesta snapped at him. "You were just being annoying as hell."

His entire body seemed to relax at her insult. Cassian tried to hide his smirk but failed. "I'm glad to see you're still your normal, hotheaded self. You got me worried at dinner with your stoic behavior."

Now she really glared at him. "Don't talk like you know me. You don't."

"Oh, sweetheart," he teased. "I think we're more similar than you think."

She scoffed. "I think that hubris of yours will be your downfall."

"You know, it's quite sexy when you use literary devices to insult me," he joked.

Nesta froze.

Was he coming onto her? Chills ran down her spine when she thought of the last time a man expressed interest in her.

It's not the same, she tried to convince yourself. He's not Tomas.

Cassian must've expected a heated response to his comment because he looked surprised when Nesta simply stared straight ahead. She seemed to be in a world of her own, oblivious to everything around her. Any trace of anger was gone, replaced by a cool indifference.

Cassian's face fell. "Nesta, I didn't mean to - "

He was cut off as the elevator door dinged opened and Nesta swiftly walked out.

-------------------------------

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@sjmships​ @sleeping-and-books​ @sirgwaines​ @books-for-sure​ @blowing-mikey​ @b00kworm​ @wineywitch202​ @drielecarla​ @liquifyme​ @gisellefigue08​ @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter​ @loysydark​ @stardelia​ @sayosdreams​ @maastrash​ @superspiritfestival​ @courtofjurdan​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @thewayshedreamed @booksstorm

[shouta-aizawow]

2) What if.... Crossover with PJO? Like: Bakugou being a child of Athena or a child of Hephaestus or Ares or even Apollo or Nike. There are other demigods like Mic (Apollo's kid) and kids on other clases (gen ed maybe). Usually the demigods don't become heroes, it's too much doing quest and also being a hero, they want a pice of normality, but Kat is different and want to protect and save and win. The monsters are more difficult to fight but it's ok. Points extra if the class finds out. 😉😉

Okay, so I only read the first book of the PJO series (idk why i didn’t read the rest) YEARS ago, so I barely know anything about it. Only the very basics.

That’s why it took me so long to answer this!! I had to look some stuff up after I finished my morning classes!!!

Anyway, this would obviously take place after the original series ends for plot convience and more artistic liberties.

SO!!!

After much consideration, I say that Bakugou is the son of Zelus. (have I ever heard of this god before? no.)

He’s the god of many things, but what fits Bakugou is the Dedication, Emulation (though not imitation), Eager rivalry, and Zeal.

I was tempted to make him the son of the goddess of victory, Nike, but I feel like this would fit more. This way, he has a rival (“you’re the child of Nike, but i’m the one that’s gonna win”).

Also, in this AU, All Might would be Heracles.

Of course, people wouldn’t know that.

They’d think that he just has a quirk, but no, he’s Heracles. Maybe, still got the quirk from the previous OFA user, so he still passes that off to Deku, but he’s still extremely strong and whatnot.

I think that during the battle at Kamino, he still shrinks, but he’s still the strongest man. He was still injured, so he still coughs blood (does that happen with gods? idk but it does now).

So Bakugou still feels guilty and whatnot.

———

Every summer, Bakugou went to Camp Halfblood. Obviously, no one except his parents knew that.

(his canon parents. He looks like Mitsuki because she’s mortal and had a child with Zelus. Masaru is basically Katsuki’s stepdad)

At the camp, Katsuki met Shinsou, son of Aizawa, who’s the god of sleep. (greek name is Hypnos)

So when they find out that they’re both attending U. A., the only hero school that knows about gods and goddesses and whatnot and trains them, of course both of them are excited.

At the camp, they bond, and even when they have to go back to school, they find themselves meeting on the weekends and whenever both of them are free.

(There’s really no plot I have in mind, just characters and relationships)

So they get into UA, and here, Shinsou got accepted into Class 1-A of the hero course.

————

Things stay relatively the same plot wise, except more of the classmates are children of gods:

Momo and Jirou, daughters of Apollo (sisters in this AU)

(or if you don’t want them to be sisters, Momo could be the daughter of Athena and Jirou is the daughter of Euterpe, the muse of music)

Deku, son of Hephaestus (he was weak, but his father didn’t just have a fire breathing quirk, he was the god of fire, and this is why after only 10 months, he was able to wield the strongest quirk(s), OFA)

THAT COULD BE THE REASON WHY BAKUGOU HATES THE NOTEBOOKS. BECAUSE IT REVEALS ALL OF THEIR SECRETS.

OR DEKU COULD JUST BE A REGULAR HUMAN AND THE REASON WHY BAKUGOU PUSHES HIM AWAY IS BECAUSE DEKU IS THE CLOSEST THAT ANYONE HAS COME TO FINDING OUT HIS SECRETS!!!

Kouda, son of Gaia, “Mother Earth” and sister to Rhea, goddess of nature (the reason he’s so quiet is not only because he prefers nature to people, but because he’s a terrible secret keeper, and he doesn’t want to accidentally reveal anything)

Not in UA:

Ms. Joke could be Thalia, one of the Muses. the muse of comedy!!!

Inasa is obviously the son of the god of wind, Aeolus.

AFO could be Ares, god of war. ig

I DO NOT KNOW IF ANY OF THESE ARE ACCURATE. IM JUST LOOKING AT THIS LIST OF GOD(DESSES) ONLINE LMAO!!!

(and the formatting is probably really weird but i wanted to provide a hint of organization!!!)

————

So anyway, there are a few demigods and gods that either teach or are students.

They all somehow gravitate towards each other, and kinda bond over this.

Really all I can think about is them trying to balance living normal lives with normal humans and trying to deal with the monsters that are constantly being sent after them because they’re always managing to piss off the other gods and goddesses.

Like,, for some reason, Aizawa and a lot of the students that never miss a day are gone. The rest of the people there are panicking when none of them answer any calls or texts.

After about a day, everyone is ready to wreak chaos in search of their peers when they hear what sound like people collapse outside.

They run out only to find their classmates and their teachers in a heap on the ground, covered in dirt and superficial injuries and passed out.

They’re all confused/worried and just try to get them all inside.

Deku either wakes up and pulls out a notebook (demigod ver) or gets suspicious and pulls out a notebook (human ver), and Bakugou immediately gets up, destroys it (whether with his quirk or he just eats it) and passes out again.

Ofc everyone else is Even More Confused and Worried, but they just take care of everyone’s injuries and cleans them up as much as they can.

When the students and Aizawa wake up, they’re bombarded with questions, and everyone has a different excuse or just doesn’t answer.

After the 5th time this has happened, anyone that has the displeasure of having to take care of the exhausted pile of a god and some demigods just stops asking questions. (yes, they have woken up in stranger places and situations).

THIS IS REALLY LONG BUT NOT A LOT OF PLOT LIKE MY OTHER ONES!!! I JUST DIDNT KNOW MUCH ABOUT THIS, SO I HAD TO TRY MY BEST AND MOSTLY ENDED UP EXPLAINING WHO WOULD BE THE GOD OF/CHILD OF WHAT/WHO!! ITS NOT TOO BAKUGOU CENTERED BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE LITTLE BIT OF ACTUAL WRITING AT THE END!!! IM SO SORRY!!!

THANK YOU THOUGH!! I DONT KNOW MUCH ABOUT MYTHOLOGY, BUT IT HAS NEVER BEEN BORING WHEN I HAD TO LOOK STUFF UP FOR IT!!! 💖💕💓💞💗💝

[kinomiakai]

i know it's a lot to ask but i'm very sad at the moment and don't know how to handle it - and i have birthday on the 9th august. would it be possible to get a (vampire) one shot from you? it would be so great but i understand if that's too much to ask for. ahh its a dumb thing to ask but it would make me very happy so i wanted to try sorry!!!

    Sasuke was tired.

    Not because of the night classes—no, he was pretty well-suited to those. He’d been nocturnal for as long as he could remember. And what they were doing wasn’t particularly challenging—just some poses, and Sasuke was acquainted well enough with the human body. It was nice to look at, Sasuke thought, and he liked to spend the time to learn all the different shapes that people could be. He liked to spend the time to look at them. There wasn’t much that made him feel motivated, nowadays, and it was hard enough for him to live on the schedule he’d come to have as it was. This was the first hobby he’d managed to have since…well, it was the only one he had now.

    So—no, Sasuke wasn’t tired from class.

    He sighed again, forcing himself to move on for once. He’d spent thirty of the last forty minutes drawing and redrawing the model’s neck, over and over again. He already had a tendency to do that, and he was trying to learn not to. Everyone else had managed a full…

    “Alright, that’s it for today!”

    Crap.

    Sasuke sighed, and packed his things into his small, well-worn bag. He’d quit his job last week—or, well, they’d politely asked him to get the hell out of there once his I.D. had finally fell through. He’d very much appreciated the dim lights of the bar, especially alongside the added bonus of drunk, half-conscious people, but Sasuke had been starting to think the constant alcohol was getting to him. It tasted worse from them. Easier to get, though, and he didn’t have to hurt anyone too badly to get it, but he tended to need…more of it.

    He hadn’t liked that.

    Of course, now, he didn’t have that option as accessible. It was still there. He could still do it—still prowl the streets to look for easy targets and stifle the part of his mind that hated every second of it. It was a last resort, though, which is why he was so…

Tired. 

Tired and hungry and a little bit dizzy, and staring at a naked man’s neck for the past three hours really hadn’t helped. Go figure.

    He put his hood up and slipped through the door, keeping an eye on the ways everyone went—groups of three, four, five, six—one person there? No, a couple. Shit. 

    Sasuke leaned against the wall and pulled out his phone—which he’d naively continued to pay for, with the little money that he had, in spite of having a grand total of zero numbers to call—pretending to scroll his way through some screen or another. There were still a few students left in the class, so with just a bit of luck—

    A body breezed past him, tucking two earbuds in. Good sign. A casual jacket hung off his shoulders, left unzipped—no necklaces to watch out for, either. Sasuke watched as the man walked a few more lazy steps, staring down as his phone as if picking a song, before promptly turning down the alleyway Sasuke had had his eye on for weeks.

    Alright, then. The blond it was.

    Sasuke pushed himself off the wall and imitated his own slow, distracted walk. He turned his phone screen off as he continued to stare down at it, letting his eyes get used to the night again—it took longer when he was tired, when he was like this, and he only had about another two minutes before the two of them would be back in the public eye again—he sped up his pace. He had almost mastered getting to them before they could notice—

    “Wh—hey, the fuck are you—”

    Shit. Sasuke was sloppy and stupid and the man wrenched his shoulder from Sasuke’s grip as soon as he’d felt the heat of his skin at his lips—Sasuke grabbed at him but only caught his jacket—the man spun around with a punch that Sasuke would have dodged if not for the jacket wrenching him in—

    His nose would have bled, if he’d had enough blood left. As it was, he was dizzy and desperate and too far in to—

    The man pinned Sasuke to the wall with his forearm, keys in his other hand. And a swiss army knife? For god’s sake. Of all the—

    “Picked the wrong person to…what the hell?”

    The man flinched back. Whether it was Sasuke’s eyes or his fangs that did the trick, he didn’t know. At least he hadn’t stabbed him, though.

    Still—

    “The hell’s wrong with your eyes?” the man asked, eyes wide, brow furrowed, knife in his hand.

    “Probably the same that’s wrong with your brain, moron,” Sasuke snapped, sliding down the wall. He’d barely had the fight in him for that, and now his nose fucking hurt on top of it all. He felt slow and exhausted and fuck this—

    “Wh—you—I’m the moron?! I just kicked your ass!”

    “And you’re sticking around to find out what happens next?” Sasuke spat, pulling his hood back up. “Get out of here.”

    Sasuke closed his eyes.

    “I’m not going to turn my back so you can get another go, you know. I’m not stupid.”

    “Great,” Sasuke said, tucking his head between his legs. “Stay here forever then.”

    The pain pulsed between Sasuke’s eyes—in time with his consciousness, waving in and out. He’d been spacing out and losing his vision and—

    “Are you…okay?”

    Sasuke looked up, incredulous.

    “Are you serious?”

    “Well I’m not gonna let you die here—I’ll—there’s a hospital near here—”

    “I don’t need a hospital,” Sasuke snapped, “either kill me or leave.”

    There was a pause.

    Sasuke closed his eyes again.

    “What were you going to do to me?”

    Oh, for god’s sake.

    “What do you think, genius?” Sasuke asked, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe if he just fell asleep…

    “You—come on. There’s no way.”

    “You’re right,” Sasuke said. “There’s no way. So you should leave before the unhinged lunatic wakes up again.”

    “…Is the unhinged lunatic going to wake up again if I leave?”

    Sasuke opened his eyes only to glare.

    “Your eyes are back to normal,” said the blond, knife still in his hand.

    “And yet your brain remains firmly rooted in insanity. Leave me alone.”

    “I’m serious,” the blond said, stepping forwards—and Sasuke flinched back, hitting his head to the wall, as the knife moved closer, “I—oh, shit, no, I’m not gonna—I mean I—”

    The man’s mouth opened and closed, as if trying to decide whether to appease Sasuke’s delicate sensibilities, or continue to defend himself from an obvious threat.

    “You know I attacked you, right?”

    The blond continued to watch him.

    “You don’t look too happy about it.”

    Sasuke rolled his eyes.

    “Yes,” he drawled. “It ended rather differently than intended.”

    The man’s head inclined to the side, as if he was scanning Sasuke for something—

    “I would have expected you to run,” he said, “after I—y’know—pulled a knife on you and all that.”

    Sasuke didn’t reply.

    “You can’t run, can you?”

    Sasuke didn’t reply.

    “Can you even stand?”

    “Are you getting off on this?” Sasuke snapped, the wave of anger making him feel even more light-headed than before. “Leave.”

    The man crouched in front of him. Sasuke flinched back.

    “Hey,” he said, reaching out an empty hand. “Make your eyes do the thing again.”

    Sasuke stared at him. The man’s wrist came closer. And he could hear the blood humming under his skin, feel the heat of it, he—

    “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said quickly, desperately—

    “Hey,” said the guy, “they do glow. Cool.”

    “You’re insane,” Sasuke breathed.

    “I’ve still got a knife and I’m not gonna let you die. I save your life and you won’t turn me into one, yeah?”

    “I have no idea how to even do—are you—” Sasuke stared at him, “are you serious?”

    The man waved his wrist in front of his face—Sasuke snatched it out of the air before he even had another thought.

    “Ooh, fangs too—wh—o-oh…”

    Finally. Finally. Sasuke nearly collapsed with relief—he fell forwards, clutching the wrist to his mouth, groaning into the warmth—god, he’d been so—

    “Okay—that’s—that’s enough. That’s—”

    Sasuke let out a small half-strangled noise as the wrist pulled itself away. As the man pulled his wrist away, fuck, it was like he lost it in moments like this—

    “That’s—I mean, uh, was that enough…?”

    The haze in Sasuke’s mind slowly, slowly cleared.

    “I…” he said, staring up into the blue eyes he hadn’t even noticed before—and the marks, on his cheeks, oh— “oh. You’re the one who’s always in class.” 

    The blond pulled back.

    “Wh—yeah, ‘cause my dad owns the place—that’s the thanks I get for saving your life?”

    The man waved his wrist in the air and stared Sasuke down expectantly. 

    The corner of Sasuke’s lip twitched.

    “…Thanks,” he said finally. 

    “That’s better. S’weird though,” he said, bringing his hand back to him, “it didn’t hurt at all. I barely felt anything.”

    Sasuke let out a breath, feeling the weight in his body slowly, slowly draining out of him. He hadn’t felt that bad since he’d woken up.

    “That’s the general idea,” he said quietly. At least, he thought it was. He hadn’t gotten good enough to pick the arteries from the veins, but he’d at least minimized his impact as much as possible…when he wasn’t entirely desperate. “You should go.”

    “Hm?”

    “You’re going to be light-headed for a while. Go make it home.”

    “Oh—well—yeah, I’ve donated blood before, I know that. Are you gonna be—?”

    Sasuke snorted and shoved himself off the filthy (and wet, ugh, he hadn’t noticed it had been wet) floor.

    “I’m fine,” he said, giving the blond a challenging look. In debt or not, Sasuke was dangerous. Surely the man knew that.

    “Hey—can I see your teeth again?”

    What the hell—

    “You have the self-preservation of an opossum in the middle of a road.”

   The man laughed and moved closer.

   “Yeah, I’m a real dumbass—my friends tell me all the time. Open your mouth—lemmie see.”

   He moved closer, and—

   “Oi—you—” Sasuke said, flinching back, “get your hands out of my mouth—”

   “Ooh, they are kinda sharper, aren’t they? Not as much as when you bit me, but—”

   “They will be in a second if you don’t stop shoving your fingers at them—”

   That did the trick, and Sasuke stared him down with a significantly sharper gaze. Just because he was satiated didn’t mean he was full, and this idiot was waving himself in front of him like a—

   “Oh,” the man said, staring at him as if— “you’re scared you’re actually going to hurt me.”

   “Wave a steak in front of a rabid dog and see how it ends for you.”

   The man’s head tilted to the side, watching him with eyes that seemed too serious for that smile—

   “You don’t seem too rabid to me.”

   “I just,” Sasuke started, speaking slowly as if explaining something to a small child, “drank your blood. As food. With my mouth. I attacked you about two minutes prior to—”

   “And you let me win. You could’ve bit me anywhere—I only punched you once and you backed off.”

   “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

   “Yeah, you were,” the man said, “you were making sure you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t want to do it unless you knew I’d survive.”

   Sasuke glared at him. Fine. Fine, yes, he was utterly terrified one day that he’d completely lose himself, and he’d spent more than a few hours in a night making sure every person he knocked down could get back up again—

   “Fine,” Sasuke said, clenching his teeth together. “You’re right. Are you going to let me go, now?”

   “What am I, holding you hostage? You can go any time.”

   “You had a knife.”

“Still do, actually,” the man said, flicking it into his hand only to fold it away, “so don’t try anything, vampire.”

   Sasuke rolled his eyes.

   “Hey,” said the blond, “wanna help me find the headphones you so rudely ripped out of my ears?”

   He stuck the keychain into his pocket and shot Sasuke a wide, innocent grin. Sasuke sighed, but let his eyes flicker to life again, just for a moment—

   “They’re over there.” Sasuke nodded at them.

   “Aw, fuck that’s cool,” the man said, trotting over to unabashedly grab at the disgusting floor. “What else can you do? You got like—super speed or something? Do you age? Wh—I feel like we would’ve noticed if you had no reflection in class—”

   “That’s only a thing if the mirror is laced with silver, idiot.”

   The man’s mouth made a small ‘o’ shape. Sasuke’s lips twitched again.

   “And, uh, if it is?”

   “I don’t know,” Sasuke said. “I’ve never found one where I know that’s the case.”

   “Huh,” he said, “don’t you guys have like—a coven or some shit to teach you this stuff?”

   Sasuke’s good mood faltered. (He hadn’t known he was in one.)

   “None of your business. I’m leaving.”

   Sasuke turned on his heel, walking back the way he’d come. He’d be fine for at least a few days, now—and he really needed to find a new job before he was kicked back the gym membership he’d called rent—

   “See you next week, vampire!”

   Sasuke flipped him off.

    And he’d have to find a new hobby.

[xampomi]

Exes & Angels | jjk

• genre: high school au | romance | mystery

• pairing: ex!jungkook x y/n

• warnings: jungkook's not using underwear (there's a reasonable reason for that); ¿maybe jimin has a crush on Jungkook¿ ; trust issues; I dunno

• summary: jungkook’s rambling

Jungkook was having a shitty day so far.

First, he forgot to wash his underwear in the weekend, so he just decided to go commando today bcs wtf was he gonna do at 6 in the morning?? Then, when running to class, he bumped into some weird guy.

"wtf man. Wanna fight?", the little guy said.

For a moment, Jungkook stopped dead in his tracks because he though he saw some fucking sparkling halo above boy's head. But Jungkook didn't sleep much that night anyway so.

"N-not now. Sorry. I'm running late.", which was technically true. The thing is Jungkook didn't care. And he didn't really wait for the sparkling guy's answer.

As soon as Jungkook entered the class he sat at his regular seat, the window's view being extremely appealing to him.

As all of us can imagine, Jungkook was a smart kid but he didnt really care since he knew he was also extremely hot. That thought came to his mind numerous times. He knew that he should probably quit high school and become a stripper. He was definitely done with this shit. In addition, that would bring a lot of fast easy money.

"Fuck, i forgot about breakfast.", he remembered, thanks to his body's noises. Then he try listening to class but that didn't worked that well for him since he has tendency to zone out real easily.

However, two knocks in the classroom's door echoed through Jungkook's ears and for some reason he was suddenly attentive to what was happening in the real world.

Soon after the knocking was heard, the teacher stood there like some earthquake emergency, in which he should tell the students to keep calm, keep calm but if you wanna come back to your mama, walk quickly.

Then he woke up. "Come in".

When the door opened, a dark-haired girl appeared She quickly smiled to the teacher as she entered the room. "Good morning. Sorry to interrupt your class", she said in a low, innocent voice, although something on him told him that she didn't really care about his class. But he was no more interested in what was happening so he just dropped his head again on the table.

"Don't worry. What do you need, y/n?", he couldn't see what was happening but Jungkook knew that the teacher's teeth were about to fall down if he kept smiling like that to the girl.

"Could I borrow... Jung Jungkook? He's from this class, right? Mr. Robert wants to talk to him", y/n kindly asked.

Something was wrong. Everyone knew Robert was done having conversations with Jungkook since what happened in the canteen 2 months ago. Or perhaps he decided to finally let that go of that. He hoped so. He didn't wanted to talk about that again. Besides, Namjoon deserved it.

Maybe this time Mr. Robert wants to finally have a real conversation. Maybe about last week's fire alarm's break out.

Oh well.

"Ah!", the teacher dropped too happily. Then he seemed kinda regretful. Yeah. Hide the excitement, you bastard. "Go talk to the principal, Jeon."

"Oh no, I can't What about your class? I was so excited about hearing about the... effect of.... molecular evidence on....the classification of...hm... organisms.", I said already reaching for the door. I don't know if you noticed but I was being extremely sarcastic.

"Ooooh, don't worry.", yeah, he prolonged that "oh" like that. He was also being sarcastic but I know that deep inside he would miss me. Everyone those.

"You know I always open an exception for you every time you need to do things outside my class, Jeon. C'mon. Go talk to the principal." He pointed to the door in a very nonsarcastic way.

"I will come back for you.", I didn't really said this. But it would be funny. Because I would never come back.

Now in the corridor, Jungkook felt real freedom. He could finally go home, eat pancakes and dress some sweatpants or something that wouldn't make his dick itchy.

"Ya. Where do you think you're going?"

Shit.

"You know I'm really grateful that you let me out of there. Seriously." He made a dramatic pause. Then he decided to push him hair back and for a second, he though he saw her rolling her brown dark eyes. "But we broke up, y/n. You need to find yourself another man."

For a moment she looked kinda offended. Then remember she had more important things to discuss with him.

"lol that's what's i've been trying to do. I though it was pretty obvious I was trying to seduce Jimin. I mean, he's cute as hell. He just.... he doesn't look normal, okay? And not the "He's-just-too-good-to-be-true"type. I mean, it's obvious that a man like him could never be compared as a simple human. Have you ever had a good look at him? He's a God. He's just beautiful and kind, and talented,and sooo funny. Absolutely boyfriend material,ya know. And his buttcheks?? I could never think of a better--"

"Okay, okay. I get it. And?"

"He isn't normal, jungkook."

"As you've been telling me."

"He seriously isn't normal."

"Who is?", I smirked. "Just tell me who this Jimin guy is already bcs i think I've never heard of him."

She frozed a little. Then she slowly approached him.

"Buy you saw him, right? I know you did. I saw you this morning with him. That's why I came to you.", she had her eyes real open by now. "You're the living prove that I'm not crazy. You're the only one who always believes in me, right?"

Jungkook took a good at her. She no more looked like the shy, innocent girl that came for him in the middle of class. Sure, she still looked like the typical social butterfly. She was always the type of person that just loved to befriend people here and there. Now she just looked kinda exhausted. Still beautiful, but exhausted.

So yeah, jungkook was fricking out a little bit. Something was wrong with her. He needed to calm her down, so he could go home.

Then she suddenly went closer to him, her voice quieter than before. "I also need to tell you about the weirdest part, BUT you need to promise me to keep secret. Promise me."

"Okay, go on."

"I'm serious, kookie. "

"Don't call me that. I told you before, right?"

"Do it."

"I, Jeon Jungkook, promise that I will never tell whatever you're about to tell me."

"I think I killed him."

Jungkook frozed. For some reason his vision started getting blurry. He didn't eat anything since yesterday. He needed to eat.

"Sorry. Can you repeat that?"

"It was an accident, Jungkook. An accident." Her face has becomed red, her eyes watery and her body shaky. "C'mon. If you don't believe in me, who will?".

"But I talked to him this morning. He's not dead, y/n"

"He really is."

"That's so fucking impossible, y/n." He pushed his hair back, but not in a seductive way anymore. "You can only be lying to me rn. What the fuck happened?"

She avoid jungkook's eyes. "I don't know! One minute we were just making out inside the school depository and next one, he--"

Jungkook hoped he wouldnt regret his next words.

"Prove it."

"You still won't believe me, do you?"

"Y/n. Where's the body?"

"If I show it to you right now....will you believe in me? Will you promise to believe forever in me?"

Jungkook looked around. He was not in the right mood to see a dead body rn. But It was 14pm and for some reason he saw no one.

He should probably come back to class anyway.

"The body is still in there here, ya know."

"What?"

"Don't worry. Obviously is hidden under some blankets I found in there. I can show it to you."

"Did you call the policy?"

Now she frozen on her feet. "No, ofc not. I can't go to jail. I can't. Please believe in me, Kookie. We could just go. As we talked about bef-"

Jungkook should definitely become a stripper after this. But for now, he needed to call someone. However, the phone was inside the classroom. He couldn't call the police without a crime. He needed to see for himself. Yeah, played with fire alarms but dont fucking mess with 911.

If that boy really was dead, y/n needed to be arrested. That's the truth. He will eventually need to discuss it with her. Just not now.

"Let's go, then", he finally decides.

"Yey", she said but not that excited - she even seemed a little disappointed?? - but took his arm between hers anyway and guided him from corridor to corridor.

When they first arrived the depository's door, Jungkook was expecting to her to free his arm but she didn't. She wasn't stopped trembling. She killed a man and can't stop shaking wtf. She was afraid. Well, Jungkook was the one who should be afraid. I mean she had a lot of time to get accustomed to the cadaver. But more than that, Jungkook was hungry. Poor Jungkook.

The next moment,he saw y/n taking from her pocket a metal key. How did she get that? The innocent shy girl who could never lie to anyone, was no more a good girl.

She unlocked the door. "You'll believe in me now, Kook." And they stepped inside.

"It's too dark", he said.

"I know, dummy. I'll search for the switch."

The light went on but he still couldnt see anything.

"Where the fuck is the body? Are you lying to me again?"

"What do you mean? He's right there. Look.", she started pointing weirdly to the floor in front of them. She looked mad. Almost like there was something there that only her could see.

'Y/n. Where's the body. I'm serious now."

"Right here, Kok. Come closer."

He did. He did come a little closer.

"I would never lie to you. He's right there. Right there."

Still searching for something , Jungkook collapsed on the floor after the strong sting he felt in his neck.

2/7.

[spideyxchelle]

Peter's a freak because he was in band. You may leave the band but the band doesn't leave you. I don't make the rules (as in band kids being the freak in the sheets/ those kinky 👀)

OHHHHH MY GOOODNEEEESS. so, fam, fun fact. i work for an orchestra. love me some orchestra music. sorry if this is nerdy af. and like longer than I expected. it got out of control. nsfw.

also, the piece I included is loooong af and really weird but is an absolute masterpiece. if you have 30 minutes take a listen. be prepared that its got its moments of off-the-wall craziness but its beautifully balanced with some of the most melodic, gorgeous sections ever put to score. 

Peter Parker lived for band before he got bit by a spider and became a spandex-wearing superhero. lived for it. he spent the better part of middle school playing the violin poorly, learning how to read music and scratching out basic mozart like a dying animal. but in middle school he takes up the horn and its like his whole life shifts. its a bit of a struggle at first, he’s small and his lung capacity is only so much, but he can read music from the violin and the conductor at their middle school really spends individual time with each and every one of his students.

so when it came time to take electives in high school he didn’t even hesitate. he signed up for band. and freshman year is awesome. sure, carrying around his horn case between classes is a little bit like having a gigantic target LITERALLY on his back. but when he enters the music room seventh period to play its all worth it.

they’re not very good, lets be real. but its not about talent for Peter. its about community. feeling like a part of being something bigger.

there is one person who is in band that is actually good. and its Michelle Jones. his freshman year he doesn’t talk to her much because, she’s what the kids call, fucking terrifying. but she plays the oboe like a champ. he can’t take that from her.

and, he’s not gonna lie, her carving reeds with her knife in the middle of the cafeteria is the most badass thing he’s ever seen.

it’s the most lowkey threatening display of power he’s everwitnessed in his fourteen years but then, the story goes as follows: Peter gets bit by aradioactive spider just before Christmas his freshman year, his Uncle Ben getskilled because he refuses to act three weeks later, and by the new year he isthe fighting crime as the prototype-Spider-Man. he stays in band and roboticsbut, then, on the sixth month anniversary of him gaining his powers Tony Starkshows up in his living room and turns his life 5000% upside down. he’s in Berlinon mission like a REAL LIFE AVENGER….and then he’s dropped back in his lifelike it never happened. 

the two months of school are spent wishing for a phonecall that never comes. sophomore year starts and in one foul swoop he’sdropping band and robotics club….and decathlon. and he’s fighting Vulture andgetting his suit privileges revoked and it’s not even halfway through Octoberwhen homecoming happens and he gets his suit back and an Avenger offer fromTony

even though he decides to ultimately protect the little guya little bit longer….Peter doesn’t rejoin band or robotics club. 

he hasn’tpracticed his horn since June. he’s so out of practice that even their crappyorchestra would suffer from his playing. but he misses the familiar weight of his case on his back ashe dodges and weaves in the hallways. 

MJ, who has assumed the captain role in decathlon, alwayshas her parts on her for whatever they are working on in band. and that is howthey connect. over music.

she leaves her parts in the auditorium one day and he findsher the next day and hands her the music. “you left this,” hemumbles. she squints at him but takes her music, “you couldn’t have textedme? I would’ve grabbed it last night so I could practice.” he flushes,“sorry, I just…” the truth? he’d spent the night pouring over thepages and reading along to a recording of the piece. “don’t,” sherolls her eyes, “thanks for getting this to me, Parker.”

and that seems like that’s that. but she sits with him andNed at lunch. the latter seems mortified. but she looks right at Peter,“you put markings in my score.” he gulps, “I listened to Berlindo it. I like some of the tempos and markings better than what’s in that.”“so you just decided to write all over my music?” “yes,” heowns. she gives him a once over and takes a bite of her sandwich,“okay.“ 

that’s how it begins. she starts to purposefully leave hermusic behind at decathlon practice. and he takes it home, every night, and addshis own markings. it’s not like being in band, but it’s pretty damnclose. 

and then, his chem book goes missing. he’s certain he didn’tlose it with the latest backpack but he can’t find it. until the next day atschool it’s in his locker. he opens to the chapter they are reviewing in classand it’s got notes in it. ideas. in MJ’s hand writing.

it’s not the most orthodox friendship, their back and forthnote markings, but it’s how they communicate. and Peter looks forward toreading her thoughts on everything: science, English…especially history. hercommentary is gold. but sticks to her instrumental parts only. and he’s got ahunch that she knows he misses it. she’s freakin’ brilliant. of course shedoes.

but then….his Stark notebook goes missing. the notebookwith all of his webbing formulas and suit designs. it’s like his private diaryon all things Spider-man and she’s got it. no one else would take it. only MJ. he’s not sure what the fuck to do. like, MJ is a friend. butshe’s the weird, we-don’t-really-talk-just-share-notes kind of friend. ifthat’s even a kind. 

and he’s not sure if he trusts her with Spider-man. 

he spends the whole night warring with himself over whetheror not to call MJ, to text her, to put on the suit and go to her apartment. buthe resists.

and so, the next day at school, he takes a deep breath andopens his locker door. his notebook is propped up against the left wall of hislocker and when he opens it there is only one sentence written in MJ’s messyscrawl.

I like Black Panther better.

his face erupts into the most outrageous grin and that isthe first moment his chest tightens at the thought of her.at lunch, MJ joins, as per usual, what is notusual is her offhanded comment, “so I have some thoughts on improvements on thewebbing.” Ned chokes and Peter pales. Ned elbows Peter, “dude, whatthe hell?” “calm down,” MJ sips her tea, “I found hisdiary.” Peter huffs, “it’s my design journal. not a diary.”“It’s a diary,” she shrugs.

Ned puts his apple juice down and looks between them, “what’s going on?” “i want in to whatever superhero dumbness you’re both up to,” she shrugs, offering Ned some of her chips. he grins and steals a few. “i say we let her help,” Ned chomps on chips, “guy in the chair could have a sidekick.” “not anybody’s sidekick,” she drawls. and peter groans. 

but MJ on team Spider-man is kind of awesome. she’s around nearly every day after school and on the weekends. but because she’s around all the time, she stops stealing his books to put notes in and stops leaving her scores out for him to write in. he tries to reason that it shouldn’t sting. she’s around every day now. but it does. because their weird note ritual was just for them. he always felt really close to her doing that.

and….no markings means the last connection he has to band is severed. 

he misses the notes but by the end of sophomore year he has more pressing things on his mind. like he’s growing crush on MJ and Thanos. the second of the two rips him out of school and launches him into FUCKING space. without notice. without warning. 

there is no time. the end of the world doesn’t wait for him to leave a note behind to Aunt May. the Avengers call and Peter jumps. 

that means, for the entire month of May, Peter is one of those missing kids. one that is on the news and has posters. and May is inconsolable, Ned is worried sick and MJ feels wrong. like, she has this sinking feeling in her stomach that something very bad has happened. Tony Stark hasn’t been seen for a month either. but Stark Industry’s insists his on a retreat. 

MJ knows what that means. and she knows whatever retreat Tony is on, Peter is there, too. 

they’re on some freakin’ planet that Peter can’t even pronounce when he thinks he’s going to die. actually, he’s pretty certain. his chest is trapped under Thanos’ foot and his life begins to flash before his eyes. he knows its like a Peter Parker greatest hits reel. and so many of the memories he holds on to as he blacks out are of May, Ben, Ned….and MJ. she’s in more of them than he would have expected. and god. he doesn’t wanna die.

Tony saves him. at a cost. and the war is won. 

when they fly back into Earth’s orbit, Happy silently drives Peter home. neither of them know what to say to each other without Tony as a buffer. and Mr. Stark’s death lives in this car. 

when he knocks on his front door, a little worse for wear, May throws it open and sobs. she yanks him into her arms and squeezes. he clings back, “hiya May.” she slaps him on the top of his head, “don’t you hiya May me, young man. where have you been?” he hiccups, “Tony is dead.”

the two Parkers collapse in the doorway together and hold each other tight. 

he returns to school three days later and everyone looks at Peter like a ghost. he’s been gone for a month. his return is jarring. the teachers all looked thrilled to see him. but he knows he carries around his trauma like a cloud floating above him. everyone can see he’s fucked up. they just don’t know about what.

Ned doesn’t even care. he’s just so happy to see his friend, to have him back. and Ned’s voice makes Peter feel so normal. 

he avoids his locker all day, he doesn’t want his books or his notes or anything. he’ll just sit in class, thanks.

but at the end of the day, he needs to grab his history book to do homework. and when he opens his locker he’s shocked. 

there, pilled nearly to the top of his locker, is music. sheet music. hundreds of pages of it. music he’d never heard before, composers he’s unfamiliar with. and on every piece is a note from MJ. about why that specific piece reminds her of him. its like hundreds of pages of love letters. each one with music to echo her sentiments. 

he leaves his history book behind and drags all of the scores home. he grabs his computer and begins to listen to each one. some are as short as three minutes, others are as long as a half hour. one for every day he was missing. some pieces are sweeping and romantic, others are furious and angry like she was spitfire mad at him for being gone. 

the last score at the bottom makes him confused. it can’t quite decide if its romantic and longing or furious or devastated, it twinges like heartbreak. he turns it over to the back and reads her note: today was the first time I considered you might be dead. and I can’t forgive you for getting yourself killed. I really hope you’re not. come home. 

he suits up. 

he didn’t see MJ at school that day. and he finds he can’t wait until tomorrow. 

he slips into her window and yanks his mask off of his face. he tries to ignore the smell of the smoke from his unwashed suit. it still smells like war. 

but then, he sees her sleeping in the moonlight. MJ, he thinks, he yearns. he’s not how long he’s felt this strong. maybe it was the first time he had heard her play the flute, or that first day he felt his chest tighten, or maybe it had been something innocuous. like a day she wrote him something ridiculous and silly in her notes. he can’t be sure how it started. only that now, in this moment, she was here and he was alive. and that was enough. 

he gets on his knees beside her bed and touches her face, “MJ?” she stretches and mumbles. he smiles, and tries again, “MJ?” he grabs her hand and kisses the back of her hand, “MJ.” 

her eyes flutter open and, damn, how had he spent a month without her eyes? she looks at him like he’s a figment, a ghost. and maybe he is. that’s how he’s felt since he’s come back. until, really, he heard all of the music she had picked for him. it breathed some life into him. 

she sits up, possessed, and asks, “are you here?”

he kisses her hand again, nodding, “got back to school today. you weren’t there.” she stares at him, “couldn’t bring myself to go, 30 days. it was 30 days since you’d disappeared.” “yea,” he swallows, “i know. uh, Tony’s dead.” and he hates how his voice cracks. 

her face softens and she pulls him into the span of his arms. he finds a home there for a long while. until he feels the way that music had made him feel: alive. MJ was like music, he thinks. sometimes sharp and furious and brilliant but always beautiful and full of feeling. 

“i got your scores,” he says. MJ shakes her head, “i don’t want to talk about those fucking scores, Peter.” he flinches, “i’m not ready to talk abut Thanos.” 

she shakes her head, “I don’t want to talk at all.” she kisses him like its the best and worst idea. she can’t quite decide. his heart thuds like timpani, loud and significant. 

their first kiss is not sweet or tender, it is a lot like that last piece. a mix of all things. not one emotion. the breath of human emotion. he can taste in the span of a second all of her anger at him and all of her affection. 

its intoxicating. 

his hand hits the drone on his chest and his suit falls away. it pools on the floor and he joins her on the bed, his body covering hers like a blanket. “you idiot,” she bites his mouth and he hisses, “you don’t get to leave without saying goodbye.” “i was saving the world,” he grabs a handful of her breast over her clothes. she arches up into him, “the world can wait.” 

he tears off her night shirt because he wants access to her milky soft skin. she sleeps without her bra, he’s happy to report. and he can’t help but be the most curious teenage boy about it. his mouth lavishes the nipples and they pebble under his teeth. 

he has done this once before, at band camp, but getting a girl’s top off is the farthest he had ever managed. band camp is a lot of kinky fuckery. but he’d only gone one year. 

so beyond the belt, he’s a little lost. but he’s eager. and angry. he’s so angry. war took something from him. his therapist would later tell him it was his innocence. now it just feels like a raw and angry wound. 

he bites at MJ’s breast and she groans, hooking her leg around his waist. “we should talk about this,” he heaves, his roaming hands cupping at her ass. “or,” she counters, her tone harsh and put-out, “you could shut up and fuck me.” 

a feral, raw groan rips from him, “yea, or that.” 

left only in their underwear, Peter could feel the warmth of her core radiating against his boxers. lacking experience, he begins to rut against her. and if its meant to feel better without clothes between them he’s 100% sure he’s gonna die. like, straight up.

his wide hand cups the back of her head and his thumb tilts her head back so he can ravish her neck. kisses and bites accompany each roll of his hips. her breathing is so heavy and hot against the top of his head. “peter,” she keens and he sucks on a pulse point. something he learned at band camp. 

“i thought about you,” he shares, his voice thick was sex and emotion, “every day I was away. and when I thought I was gonna die…” his fingers slip between her panties and rub at her core. she sobs in pleasure. “….you were there in my thoughts. I might’ve help save the world, but you saved me.” a searching finger presses inside of her and she says his name. he echoes her name back.

she turns her face to hide in her pillow, the sensations building up in her and his finger moves in and out of her. “stop being romantic,” she chides, “i don’t want romantic.” and he knows what she really means is i wanna know you’re here, i’ve missed you, don’t leave. 

so he guides another finger inside of her and sucks at her chest. as he leaves little bruises on her skin, he tells her things. how beautiful she is. how wet she is for him. how he wants to taste her. how she’d like it. 

and she climaxes around his fingers. he feels the flutter of it around his hand and he almost tumbles after her, but he refrains. he makes certain to watch her face as she falls apart and when she catches her breath, he smothers her mouth with a kiss. and only pulls away to suck his fingers clean. his eyes blazing. 

she tugs on his hair and kisses him filthy as she shimmies out of her panties. she tries to edge him out of his boxers but he stops. he doesn’t even recognize his voice. its rough and low. “condom?” she nods, leans over to her bedside table and grabs the foil for him. 

he rips it open with his teeth, shucks his boxers off and slips the condom on. he props each of his hands on either side of her head. and gives her a significant look. she nods and he pushes into her slowly. she’s tight but wet enough from his earlier actions that he is able to bottom out in her without much effort of his part. her mouth falls open and he can tell its a bit of a stretch for her. “you okay?” he asks. she nods, “fine. just…different. more pressure than I’d have thought.” 

his strokes are hollow and small at first. warming her up. getting used to the feel of her warmth stretched around him. but it feels like murder to him. the little death, the french call it, and now he knows why.

and he tries to remain under control to be kind and sweet but one thrust is particularly hard and she arches off the bed and digs her nails into his back. so he tries it again, for science. and the same thing happens. 

he chuckles, low, “holy shit, you’re…” he thrusts and she moans “….into this.” MJ glares up at him with a lot of fury to which he responds with a pointed thrust and her eyes roll back in her head. “yea,” he affirms for himself, “you absolutely do.” his rhythm moves from experimental to paced and hard. “tell me I’m wrong,” he grabs her thigh. she can’t. she can barely speak. just little, soft noises. 

in an inspired moment, he pulls out and she whines. which is adorable, okay? he grabs the thigh he was holding and adjusts her one leg so its resting on his shoulder. spread open wider for him. so when he pushes back in, he goes deeper.

they both breathe together. and there is no time for idle chatter now. they are both chasing a finish line. they want to cross it. together.

this new position is rubbing against her deliciously and she falls over first. he follows moments after. their whole world’s white out. 

when he comes to, peter rolls off of her and MJ groans. the leg that was propped up she slowly lowers to the bed and she begins to hiss at the stretch. “fuck, Peter,” she rolls her eyes. he ducks his head in embarrassment, “sorry.” she thumps him on the arm, “it was good. just…a girl needs to stretch if you’re gonna do that.” “did I hurt you?” he worries. she shakes her head, “no…it was good. really good.” 

the moment after feels vulnerable and soft. he turns her over in his arms and she snuggles into him. which fuck. he could get used to. they lay in silence, basking. and then, peter heavy with sleep begins to tell her everything. Thanos, the war, Tony. all of it. 

they talk until the sun peaks into her bedroom to start the day. and its everything.

they eventually part, they both need to get ready for school, and as peter puts on his costume to exit through the window he has an inspired thought. he ducks his head back in the window, lifts his mask and kisses her. she looks shocked. this stuff is easier in darkness. but he wants more than just moments hidden in the night. he wants her in the light, too. 

without another word he leaves. to let her stew.

when they get to school, both looking exhausted for reasons, MJ rolls her eyes at him put slips her hand into his. 

and then, seventh period rolls around and Peter walks into the band room with his horn case strapped to his back. MJ is carving a reed and stares at him when he enters the room. he grins at her, even winks because he’s feeling bold, and shuffles his way past the winds to the brass.

their conductor smiles at him and welcomes him back to band. no one seems more shook than MJ. she is staring mouth open at him, like WTF PARKER. 

he takes his horn out and not much has changed except that he’s insanely rusty and any range he had is pretty much lost, but the band sucks. so its fine. its more that its fun. and he does have a ball. especially when he hears the oboe solo soar over all of the terrible teen playing. he smiles around his mouthpiece and misses his entrance. but, god, MJ.

after class, she catches up with him in the hall and slips her hand into his. “you gotta practice,” she informs him, “you suck bad.” he laughs and tugs her under his arm which is a bit challenging because she’s a touch taller, “wanna practice with me?” “no way,” she shakes her head, “you’ll distract me.” he grins and she continues, “besides, i only practice with people who don’t slide all over the place, Parker.” “hey, woah, its been a few months, be nice.” “nope,” she shrugs and kisses him quick before heading off to English. 

and band proves to be so much more fun when your girlfriend is at band camp with you. but that’s another story for another time. 

[peterjonesparker]

Hi! Excuse me, I don't know if you still takes prompts but I love what your posts and I was wondering if you could write something about Michelle having troubles at home and Ned and Peter not noticing until it gets really bad because she's good at hiding things? Thanks!

so this has sat in my inbox for so long because michelle struggling/being sad is so hard for to me to write. but i hope this is okay!

(also, this includes the death of a parent to cancer and the grief that follows. i will also say as a disclaimer that i’ve been fortunate enough to not have lost a parent so i’m unsure if i’ve accurately represented this. i’m sure i can’t even begin to fathom how hard that loss is, so i’m sorry if i’ve not done this justice.)

when the doctor comes out of the operating room with a heavy heart and tells her family that they couldn’t save her father she didn’t realize she’d be losing two parents

her father had been struggling with prostate cancer for the past year. she’d always known he wasn’t going to make it, but part of her had hoped

about a month ago when things really got bad, her mother started to check out. she spent every moment at the hospital and her older brother had to drive to drop off clothes and food for her mother, who’d taken leave from work

and when her father finally passes after a long and slow death, her heart cracks open and she feels as if her whole world has been turned upside down and she’ll never orient herself again

and it only takes her a few days to realize her mother is gone too

she immediately starts throwing herself into work. as a lawyer, she’s paid by the hour. so she just…keeps working. she comes home when michelle is getting ready for bed and leaves as michelle is heading down to make herself breakfast

her mother pays the bills but she’s never around anymore

so michelle, her older brother, and younger sister become their own family because their mother isn’t there for them

but it’s hard

michelle is just starting her second semester of sophomore year. her bother is a senior and is waiting on college acceptances. her sister is struggling at school and her teacher had sent a letter home talking about the possibility that she had adhd

in the time when they need a mother, a parent, her mother leaves them

michelle has taken to dropping her sister off at school because she found out that if she doesn’t, her sister will skip and go to the park where their father would take them on weekends

her brother doesn’t talk to her anymore. she tries to ask him about college or class or his friends, but he remains silent and steely. she leaves him sticky notes around his room, but they’re always torn down

and she has to be there for herself. making breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (she and her brother switch off for dinners.) she gets her sister to school and then gets herself there. she goes through all her classes like a robot and sits alone at lunch. she goes to decathlon practice and leads the team, solemn and distant as a leader but it’s not as if anyone suspects anything has changed

she picks her sister up from school, where she’s spent most of the day crying and lashing out at teachers. when they get home, her brother is not back. she suspects he finds comfort in his friend jonathan, but she doesn’t bring it up with him. he’d only dismiss her like he does when she asks him anything

michelle has never felt so alone in her life. she goes through the motions of being a human, but everything starts to slowly deteriorate

and when mj reads about grief, it doesn’t take long to realize why she spends several hours in her bed crying before she can finally fall asleep. why she wakes up feeling as if she’s slept only twenty minutes. why food tastes like cardboard. why she can barely bring herself to even pick up a book let alone read one

things start to feel meaningless and she knows that this is technically how she should be feeling

but

it fucking sucks. it especially sucks that she is completely and totally alone. her mother isn’t there. her brother won’t talk to her. her sister is raging a silent war in her heart. michelle exists on autopilot. she goes through the motions and then goes to bed. nothing excites her anymore. and she worries it won’t ever end

and then it’s the beginning of junior year and she feels the same way. her brother left for college silently, without many words from their mother to comfort him. he’s gone across the country. she suspects to escape. her sister is entering 8th grade and she’s now got an “attitude problem”. teachers understand she’s lost her father, but they still don’t have patience when she yells and distracts from the class and she ends up in detention more often than not

and then mj is running their house. she makes meals for herself and her sister. she does the laundry. her mother pays the bills and gives them money, but she doesn’t help

and mj’s starting to lose it. because with her brother there, at least the burdens of running the house were shared. at least she had someone to do chores and make dinner and just…exist so she didn’t feel so alone in control

now she’s alone

completely and entirely alone. trying to raise a thirteen year old girl when she herself is only sixteen

and then her grades start to slip. and her teachers ask her if everything is okay and she has to say yes. and she has to put on a smile and just say things are stressful and she’ll do better. and she had to run decathlon. and everything gets worse because now when she comes home and has to cook dinner and do the chores and do her homework, she’s exhausted from pretending to be fine all day long

and then one day she collapses at school as she’s walking to lunch

and she wakes up with a massive headache in the nurse’s office

the nurse just smiles down at her gently, telling her she hit a chair on the way down. the nurse gives her some advil and tells her that she can stay here for the rest of the day if she’d like and that the boy who carried her here is waiting outside in the hallway and should the nurse let him in?

mj says yes on autopilot because she says yes to everyone now

she has to take care of everything and make sure things are in order

and then peter parker walks in, holding her backpack and the jacket she’s been holding in her arms when she’d fallen

and he takes in the blue bags under her eyes, the grease in her hair, the permanent frown her mouth is always in, the glazed over look in her eyes

“are you okay, mj?”

no. no she’s not. she’s alone and she’s holding the entire weight of the world on her shoulders trying to keep any semblance of a family she has left together. and she’s tired and she’s stressed out and she misses her father. god. she misses her dad and his laugh and his smile and they way he’d hold her when she cried and how he’d read her bedtime stories even when she was fourteen

and she misses her mom. she misses the breakfasts they’d have when they were the only ones up and how her mother would read her excerpts from books she was reading and suggest poems and short stories and novellas. she misses how her mom would scrunch her nose and run her hand over mj’s hair and kiss her forehead

she misses her brother and the way he’d surprise her and lift her up from behind, spinning her around as she shrieked. she missed his cocky smiles and the way he’d give her fist bumps when she did well on tests and she’d miss when they’d sneak down to the kitchen in the middle of the night and eat ice cream until their giggling woke up one of her parents

and her sister. she misses her carefree smiles and the way she’d flip her hair over her head and roll her eyes when she thought someone said something silly. she misses the way her sister would gently knock on her door and ask her for help on her homework or to explain to her this book she was reading in class. or how her sister would come into her room sometimes while michelle was reading and just…lie down on her

she misses her family. she misses not feeling alone all the time. she misses getting to be a kid who didn’t have to cook and do laundry and take out the trash and clean the bathroom. she’s only sixteen for christ’s sake

and then it’s all too much and tears start leaking out of michelle’s eyes and she takes a deep breath and tries to stop them but she can’t. the tears keep coming and then peter’s eyes are widening in shock and he looks panicked and michelle can’t do anything but continue to cry silently

it’s all so much. it all hurts. she can’t do this anymore. she’s so tired

and then peter wraps his arms around her and she gaps because she hasn’t been hugged in months. she hasn’t really even touched anyone other than brushing by her sister in the hallway or in the bathroom. and it’s so much and it’s warm and she leans into him. she starts sobbing and wraps her arms tighly around his shoulder because he’s a person and he’s there and it feels nice to be held because it feels like she’s a little less alone

and when the bell rings to signify the end of fifth period, she startles and pulls back from him. and there are still tears sliding down her cheeks but his eyes are vulnerable and sad and warm and gentle and she just pulls him back to her and he stays there for the rest of the day. she knows it’s too much. to hug him for a whole hour but she’s been so deprived of any form of human comfort that she allows herself to be greedy

she stains his sweater with her tears and his neck is slightly wet and some of his hair sticks there but he doesn’t say anything. he just rubs small circles into her back and her breath hitches every so often because it feels nice and she starts to get tired and she just wants to sleep and she thinks she might actually be able to fall asleep

and then the bell that signifies the end of the day rings and peter pulls back and he’s about to say something when he must notice the absolute terror in michelle’s eyes because oh god, she’s going to be alone again

and then: “do you want me to take you home?”

and she just nods. he holds her arm as she jumps off the bed in the nurse’s office and he helps steady her when her legs shake. the nurse stops them on the way out and gives michelle a slip of paper and smiles warmly at her, telling her to be safe and take some advil if her head starts to hurt

when mj looks at the paper, it’s an appointment time with the school’s therapist

and she stuffs it into her pocket when she notices peter looking at her with those piercing brown eyes

and they don’t stop by their lockers. “i got ned to handle things with the teachers. you don’t have to go to school for the next couple days if you don’t want to and you have extensions for your homework assignments for the next week.”

“what about you?”

peter smiles gently. “ned knows my locker combination and where i live.” and michelle feels that panic swell in her chest again because he’s going to go back to his house and leave her alone in hers at some point

so she chokes out the words as best as she can but her voice croaks and cracks a bit. “could you stay with me? tonight?”

and she doesn’t want to look at his face, but he wraps his arm around her shoulder and tells her that he’ll call aunt may and ask

and then he takes her to the subway platform and goes with her to pick up her sister, who raises her eyebrows suspiciously when she sees the boy with mj

but peter just smiles, extends his hand, and introduces himself. “peter parker. pleasure to meet you.”

and he chats with her sister on the way back to their house and michelle doesn’t say a word. just listens idly as peter tells her about why the empire strikes back is, objectively, the best star wars film and her sister snorts and counters that rogue one was iconic

and then peter gets out some pasta from their cabinet when they get to their house and chats with her sister while he starts cooking up penne and cooking some turkey to put in pasta sauce. and michelle just sits at the kitchen bar and sips on the large glass of water peter had put in front of her and when there is a lull in cooking or conversation, he’ll walk over and stand next to mj so their shoulders are touching and she can hear the steady breaths he takes

he sets the table with her sister and then michelle is sitting next to peter, eating pasta and listening to people talking at the dinner table. peter’s got his hand resting against hers where it sits on the side of her chair and she links one of her fingers with his because this one point of contact is her anchor right now

and her sister tells peter he’s a good egg and bounces up to her room, smiling. genuinely smiling. and those are so rare. only happen when michelle does something stupid like burn toast or when michelle tells her about something flash did. and peter’s just talked to her about star wars and the video game braid for a few hours and suddenly she’s smiling. he didn’t have to wring it out of her like michelle has to

and then he clears the table and takes mj to her room. and she lies down on her bed and feels uncomfortable but peter just climbs on it and wraps his arms around her so they’re spooning. and she starts crying because her mom used to hold her like this when michelle had nightmares

and peter just whispers reassurances into her ear until she finally falls asleep

and when she wakes up the next day and peter is gone, she panics. but then she hears the rattling of dishes and pots downstairs and finds that peter’s trying to cook an omelette

“this always seems so much easier when may makes them.” he laughs when michelle comes over to inspect his work

she chuckles lightly, feeling less like a zombie than she did yesterday. the sadness is still gripping her heart tightly and holding it captive

but

it’s loosened a bit and it doesn’t feel as if the world is crashing in on her

when she checks the time she sees it’s seven thirty. and her sister has school, oh god.

but peter speaks first: “may took your sister to school. she doesn’t start work until nine am and she wanted to help.”

michelle blinks a few times, not quite understanding. and then: “she also called into the school and i don’t have to go in today.”

she lets out a deep breath and starts crying again and peter’s eyes widen and he walks over to her quickly, pulling her into a hug and whispering in her ear again. and she pulls back a few moments later, apologizing. “i’m sorry it’s just…” and she doesn’t really even know herself but it’s all so overwhelming. “thank you. i’ve been doing everything alone.”

and peter smiles at her, pulling her into another quick hug. “i’m so sorry.” he whispers against her hair and she feels his breath against her neck. “i remember feeling like the world ended when ben died. i can’t imagine how i would have made that without may being so strong.”

and michelle just grips him tightly and cries into his shoulder again. the omelette burns and peter curses but michelle laughs.

“have you ever had egg in a basket?” mj asks, grabbing a loaf of bread from the fridge and pulling out two slices

peter raises one eyebrow, “egg in a basket?” his voice is dripping with suspicion and she cuts a hole in the middle of each slice of bread and throws the pieces at his head. he dodges them easily and opens his mouth wide, scandalized.

“it’s going to be better than your burnt omellete, i’ll tell you that.” and he laughs and the sound is so happy and carefree and she wishes she felt like that

but then her heart beats a little faster in her chest and she turns away to hide the slight blush on her cheek and she feels semi okay for the first time in a year. and then he rests his hand on hers and she looks up at him, eyes wide

“you don’t have to do this alone.” he smiles gently. “may wants to help. ned wants to help. the team wants to help. you don’t have to do this alone.” and her eyes start to water and she pulls him into a hug. “you’re not alone.”

and for the first time in a long time, it feels as if maybe he’s right. maybe she isn’t alone.