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virgojeons · 3 years

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true love (jjk)

summary: you and jungkook spend your first christmas together.

alternatively, a merry love story based on the lyrics of true love by ariana grande.

genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, holiday series, jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing, implied sexual content, excessive use of pet names

wattpad version here, ao3 version here

a/n: well, here i am!! pls be gentle with me, this is the first time ive ever posted my writing on here and ive been debating it for months lmao. i truly truly hope u enjoy!!

on the first day of christmas when you gave me all them kisses, boy you showed me things, come hold me please and never let me go.

"Five days until Christmas and you're still decorating the tree?"

You yelped at the sudden sound of your boyfriend's voice, dropping your over-accessorized ornament and watching helplessly as it shattered against the floor.

Immediately, you whined. "Jungkook!"

Jungkook suppressed a grin at the furrow of your eyebrows and the pout of your lips, kicking his shoes off and tossing his coat onto the couch. He didn't mean to scare you, really. You even knew he was coming over. It's just that you left the front door unlocked (as you always did when he was on his way, despite him constantly scolding you for it) and there was no way you would've heard him come in over the sound of Jingle Bell Rock blaring through the house.

"Sorry, baby," He chuckled, bending down beside you to help pick up the remnants of your best ornament. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You glared at him in between collecting the shards of glass in your hand. "I spent hours making that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Hot glue gun burns, sparkles stuck on my face and everything."

Jungkook took the pieces of glass from you with an amused look on his face, standing from his kneeling position to toss them in the trash can you had earlier moved to the living room for easy access. "I'm sorry. I'll make you another one."

"It's not the same." You sulked, finding fun in being stubborn and giving him a hard time. It was getting increasingly difficult though, with his rosy nose and ears and that little gleam in his eyes.

It was then that he made his first move of the night, tugging you by your oversized Rudolph sweater so quickly that you had to latch onto his shoulders for leverage with a squeal. His grin only seemed to grow once you were officially in his space, taking notice of your lack of pants and the snowflake stockings that appeared to be in their place instead.

"You don't look too sorry," You chuckled, heart stuttering at the way he was gazing down at you in such close proximity.

Jungkook shrugged, nudging his nose with yours. "I'm just happy."

They were such simple words, but it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you when he said them. You couldn’t lie, the excitement of spending your first Christmas together, completely alone, was incredibly infectious. It was gross and it was corny and everything else you swore you would never be, but you were in love with Jungkook. Devastatingly so. You from nine months ago probably wouldn’t even recognize the present you; a fact that friends, family, and even Jungkook alike loved to tease you about. Cracking the so-called ice queen was a feat to be celebrated, apparently. Whatever. He was yours and you were his so you didn’t quite care about the technicalities of it. Even if the story went a bit differently, in your opinion.

The brutal snow and temperatures of February were beginning to fade into spring when you met Jungkook.

You and Jimin had been attempting to finish your economics homework together in your favorite coffee shop; a hidden treasure that was a ten minute walk from campus and ticked all your aesthetic boxes. You two were sipping from your respective hot drinks, neglecting your heaps of bookwork in favor of discussing the new season of Stranger Things. Jimin was deep into his theory of Hopper still being alive when his eyes flickered to the door at the sound of the bell, widening slightly in recognition before a bright smile took over his face.

"Jungkook!" Jimin called, waving whoever it was over.

You followed his gaze and turned your head in the direction of the entrance, growing curious when the boy walking towards your table wasn't familiar to you. It took you less than five seconds to realize that the boy in question was attractive.

Like, extremely attractive. The kind of attractive that should not be subjected to the way you look right now.

It took you even less time to whip your head back around, glaring at Jimin with wide eyes and a panicked expression.

He met your glare with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows before it slowly transformed into a smirk, quickly catching on to what your pointed look was for. The night before had been a late one. You, like any other normal millennial, had impulse bought a pretty yellow Nintendo Switch solely for the new Animal Crossing game. As soon as it arrived on your doorstep you were retreating into your room, tearing the package open with squeals of excitement.

Maybe you completely lost track of time and played until your eyes were bloodshot and you heard birds chirping outside. Maybe you got an astounding two hours of sleep. And maybe you had fallen asleep without setting an alarm and woke up thirty minutes later than usual.

The details were insignificant though, because you were throwing on a pair of leggings and the first sweatshirt you saw, brushing your hair and your teeth, and hastily sprinting to your car all in record time.

No sleep. No makeup. No breakfast. And worst of all, no coffee.

And so, it was blatantly clear you had no desire to let a boy that beautiful even glance at you in that state, let alone introduce himself. But it didn't look like you had a choice in the matter, because moments later he was towering over your table with a stupidly handsome smile.

Jungkook grinned, reaching out to do that Weird Bro Handshake with Jimin. "Hey, Chim."

You were already plotting various methods of painful revenge in your head.

"Hey, Kook. What are you doing here?"

"I kind of work here," He chuckled. "Well, as of like, yesterday. Today's my first day."

"Oh, so this is the new job you were telling me about," Jimin nodded in realization, then his eyes flickered mischievously to yours. You’re rapidly shaking your head. "You know, this is my friend ___'s favorite coffee spot."

A scowl immediately takes over your face, only to be wiped off and replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile when Jungkook turns his head to look your way. The instant your eyes meet his you quite literally want to melt into the floor.

Jungkook smiles at you. Like, really smiles. "Hey, that's cool. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other then, right?"

Across the table, Jimin snorts, which only adds to the way your cheeks are absolutely flaming. You send a harsh kick to Jimin's leg as inconspicuously as you can, all while batting your eyelashes at Jungkook.

"Uh, yeah! We probably... will."

Jungkook looks positively amused, but if he notices Jimin rushing to clutch his leg, he doesn't say anything.

"Sweet," He grins again. There's a brief few seconds where you two are just gazing at each other, stupid and shy, until Jimin loudly clears his throat. "Right, well, I should probably go clock in. Let's chill sometime this week, Chim."

"Sure thing." Jimin sings, smugness plastered all over his face.

Jungkook waves, already backing away from the table with his eyes on you. "Nice meeting you."

You feel yourself flush again and you absolutely hate it. "Nice meeting you too."

With a final smile, Jungkook disappears behind the employee doors. The moment he leaves your eyes are screwed shut and you're slamming your head against the table. The silence speaks for itself. You don't even need to see Jimin's face to know that he's either smirking or stifling his laughter.

"Don't." You warn.

"You just blushed," He says anyway. "Like, four times."

"I most definitely did not blush."

"You did. You still are."

"I'm embarrassed!" You wail. "That's literally the only reason why. I look like I got ran over and dragged for three blocks."

"Jungkook sure doesn't seem to think so," Jimin hums, snickering as he sips his coffee.

"Stop."

"He likes you." He insists.

"He was just being polite." You defend.

"That is literally my childhood best friend. I think I would know."

This makes you pause. Then you sigh. "He doesn't even know me."

He doesn’t disagree. But then again, "Not yet."

"Stop trying to play matchmaker, Jimin. He said five words to me," You spoke firmly, exasperated as you downed the final sip of your latte. "Plus, I'm just focusing on me and my degree right now. No distractions."

Jimin knew that you were already worn out, and even though he was mostly joking around, he wouldn’t want to push you any further. He’d drop it.

"Fine. We'll see who's right in the end, though."

For now.

"I will dump that hot coffee over your head."

As it turns out, Jimin was kind of right.

It takes a grand total of four visits to your favorite coffee shop before Jungkook asks you out. The first time you were by yourself, nose buried in a book as Jungkook was clocking in. He wasn't able to speak to you until about an hour later, when the morning rush had passed and you had finally lifted your head from whatever was in that book.

You were honestly dreading facing him again, but you were prepared and actually presentable this time. Also you were kind of starving. And so, you hesitantly approached the counter. Jungkook took your order, both of you all fidgeting hands and sheepish smiles. You mentally patted yourself on the back when you spoke without any real mess-ups, and prayed that the cool girl aura you always tried so desperately to maintain was being transmitted.

Not like you were trying to leave a lasting impression, or anything.

He hand delivered you your coffee and muffin with a beaming grin, all while his new boss glared at him from behind the counter. He didn't have to know that you knew cashiers weren't supposed to serve the food.

The second visit was a few days after. You were with Jimin again, shooting down every jab he made about you only wearing a pretty dress because you knew you would be coming here. Jungkook joined you both during his break. As soon as he untied his apron and sat himself directly across from you, it struck. You knew you were screwed. You just couldn't stop staring at him. The chin in the palm of your hands and sparkles in your eyes type of staring. You would be much more ashamed if you couldn’t see the way he was staring right back. Jimin found this hilarious, of course, and would subtly find ways to connect you two in conversation. You weren't sure if you loved or hated him for it.

It was that visit that Jungkook insisted on sharing his slice of strawberry cake with you, claiming he wasn't that hungry. The both of you were embarrassed, whacking his arm and dismissing him as Jimin complained about being the third wheel. By the end of his break, Jungkook was positively smitten, you were begrudgingly infatuated, and Jimin was awfully smug. He reluctantly said bye to you both, and you were slouching forward with your head in your hands the moment he disappeared from visibility.

Jimin looked extremely pleased. "Believe me now?"

"Focusing on school," You protested. It was a weak one, but. Well.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" He mused.

And suddenly, you were frantic. Panicking. This was definitely not a part of the plan.

Quickly packing up your things, you groaned loudly. "You. Maybe me. Or both. I can't think in this place anymore."

"You'll be all over each other by next week."

"Shh!" You were childishly covering your ears and speed-walking out of the café.

Try as you might, you couldn't help yourself and returned the very next day after all your classes had finished. Jungkook was already there when you walked in, taking a customer's order but doing a double take and flashing you a smile when you appeared in his line of sight. This visit consisted of nothing but pretending.

Pretending to be studying. Pretending you weren't listening to him take orders just to hear his voice. Pretending you weren't sneaking glances at him. Pretending that the way your eyes kept meeting wasn't making your skin prickle. And you were just fine pretending, until suddenly he was in the seat across from with you his apron off and a steaming hot chocolate in hand. You tried your hardest to remain indifferent, you really did. But then he was pushing the beverage towards you with gentle eyes and his smile hopeful, telling you it was his treat because he noticed how hard you were studying. And then you were melting right along with the marshmallows in that mug.

The two of you talked about your majors, your families, your favorite shows, even Jimin. You asked about his tattoos and he explained them with ease. You also may have pulled out one of the oldest tricks in the book at the sight of his knuckle tattoos, gasping in feigned wonder when you pulled his hand against yours to measure the size difference.

His hand could swallow yours whole and still have some leftover, you discovered. It was a very rewarding experiment.

You made each other laugh and blush down to the very last second of his break. Scarily enough, being in each other's presence was so annoyingly addictive that you found yourself hesitant to watch him leave. You could tell Jungkook felt the same by the way he dragged out his goodbyes. I work again on Thursday, maybe I'll see you then? Your fingers brushed as he softly took the mug from you. It was really fun talking to you. You were biting your lip to keep from smiling embarrassingly big. You look really pretty today, by the way. And then he was off.

You made a strangled noise the second you were outside with your fingers frantically beginning to type a message to Jimin.

promise not to say i told you so :///

Jungkook asked you out on your fourth visit. As soon as you approached the counter, he just blurted it out. As if it was something he couldn't hold on his tongue any longer. You couldn't hear yourself say yes over your brain malfunctioning and the powerful thumping of your heart, but you knew you did. His heartbreakingly gorgeous grin told you so.

On his break, Jungkook brought you a latte with a heart carved in the cream. You just couldn't conceal the coo that escaped you, which quickly resulted in his cheeks reddening.

Cute, you thought.

He quizzed you on your personality and the type of activities you liked to do, admitting that he would use the information to conjure up the best date you would ever go on. Six days later, Jungkook stayed true to his word. Not only was it the best date you had ever been on, but you were completely certain it would ruin any other dates for you moving forward, unless they were with him. Much to your annoyance and also utter delight, you were so sure of Jeon Jungkook and your brief but striking time together that you kissed him. Right on the swings of your favorite childhood playground, first date rules tossed aside.

He was so caught off guard that his eyes expanded to twice their normal size and your teeth banged together. You drew back, slightly mortified and ready to jump to your death from the tallest slide on the playground, but Jungkook was huffing a laugh onto your lips and grabbing your face like it was nothing. Then you two got it just right, and something clicked. The earth fell off its axis and you were rendered breathless and all that nauseating cliché shit you chastised as a myth. And from that day forward, you two were completely, tooth-rottingly, inseparable.

"Easy," Jungkook proclaimed, pecking your lips. "We finished the tree."

He set you back on the floor gently, releasing a dramatic breath of air as if lifting you to place the star on top of the tree had actually winded him. As if he wasn't a muscle pig. You rolled your eyes and told him as much.

"Don't be a baby, muscle pig," You shoved at his bicep, only proving your point further when he didn't move an inch. ‘And I finished the tree.”

Instead, he caught the hand that you nudged him with and pulled your back to his chest, caging you between his arms. "Muscle pig, huh? That's what you think of me, baby?"

You flushed at the teasing lilt in his voice, suddenly very eager to escape his hold. But try as you might, he just wouldn't budge. A loud laugh left your throat as you flailed in his grasp, his muscled arms bulging in the turtleneck you bought him for his birthday a few months ago. Suddenly, you decided that you would be returning it for your own personal peace.

A high pitched whine left your mouth, one that lost all its seriousness once it was drowned out by your giggles. "Jungkook, let go of me!"

You would just not stop wiggling, and Jungkook could not stop laughing. He could live the rest of his life like this, his brain pauses to think. He's so happy.

And when you're thrashing so violently that your heel kicks his pocket with a force that has an object clattering onto the floor, Jungkook has never reacted faster in his life. Instantly your imprisonment is gone, and Jungkook is on your floor in a flash. Your eyebrows draw together at the sight of him scrambling for whatever it is, and all you're able to see is a sleek black case before he's quickly stuffing it back in his pocket.

You're eyeing him when he rises back on his feet. "Feel like sharing?"

Jungkook whistles noncommittally. "Not particularly, no."

There's a drawn-out beat of silence where you're just gazing at each other, neither one of you backing down. And then you're crossing your arms, and he's looking at your nose and your forehead and anywhere but your eyes, and then you're arching an eyebrow. He looks at you and breaks. Defeat.

"It's your present," He lets out a heavy sigh. "Well, the main one anyway."

You positively squeal. "Ooh! Can I see? Please?"

"Baby, it's the 20th."

"Can I have a hint?"

Jungkook blinks. "No, you cannot have a hint."

You're instantly pouting, but Jungkook expects that, because he knows you better than anyone else. Which is why he knows that you're a little spoiled, with a bit of a bratty streak, with just a dash of calculated charm that you use to your advantage to get just about anything you want. He's never seen it as a bad thing. In fact, he finds it cute. A little hot, too, if he's being truthful.

Anyway, he came prepared. Just as you're opening your mouth to no doubt make him spill the surprise, he's hushing you with a bruising kiss to your lips. The kind of kiss that makes you go pliant against him, the kind that makes you make a little noise in the back of your throat. The kind you've been waiting for all night.

It’s the trick that never truly runs its course.

And Jungkook is melting, too. Melting, turning to mush at your very feet, until you're moving backwards and clutching at his shoulders, ready to push him onto the couch.

"Mmm," He's humming against you, before he reluctantly draws back. He lets you chase his lips once, twice, before he chuckles lowly. "Hold on, angel."

You're suddenly feeling warm all over after his kisses, wanting nothing more than to cuddle into him into the couch and feel him next to you. Or maybe above you. With that chain you always tugged on dangling in your face. You really weren't picky.

You watched Jungkook break away from you and rummage through his bag with a frown and a newfound heat at the pit of your belly. "It can't wait?"

Like he said, he knows you, which means he knew kisses alone wouldn’t be able to satiate you nor get you to stop asking questions for the entire week. No matter how mind-numbing they may be.

"One second," He promised, and you definitely counted at least five, but he quickly found what he was looking for all the same. "I brought a surprise. Well, two surprises."

He was holding both of his hands behind his back with this stupid grin on his face. You squinted for a few seconds, suspicious, before breathing out a laugh. "Are you ever gonna show me?"

Jungkook looked way too happy with himself.

"The most important surprise is mistletoe, obviously. Gonna have to find a way to glue it on to the ceiling above your bed." And there was that mischievous little smile that told you he had every intention of carrying that out.

You folded your arms over your body and scoffed. Even if you were trying and failing to keep your lips from quirking up and possibly, maybe finding it a little harder to breathe all of a sudden. "You're unbelievable, Jeon."

He just winked and held up his other hand, pulling a gasp from your lips the second you realized what it was.

"The Polar Express!"

"I had to check like, four different stores in the mall to find it. That's why I got here a little late, by the way. But I thought we could make some hot chocolate like in the movie and watch it together and," Jungkook pauses to think, licking his lips. "There's a 'ride my train' joke in here somewhere but I don't know how to say it."

He's snorting at his own delivery before you are, and once your giggles permeate the air he's invading your space again with a lovesick smile.

"You are the sweetest boy," You praise, holding his pretty face with both hands and peppering small kisses all over it the way he secretly likes. "But you make me sick to my stomach sometimes."

If anything, this makes him smile even wider. "I love you too, baby."

You and Jungkook are in complete darkness besides the light coming from the TV in your room playing Polar Express. His head is on your shoulder with his arm strewn across your waist, and his entire leg slotted between yours. He's soft. He smells like the lavender body soap you keep in your shower. His gentle breaths hit your neck every time he exhales and you're now cliché enough to believe that the heart underneath you beats in tandem with yours.

Both of your stomachs are filled from the takeout he ordered for dinner and the peppermint hot chocolate you made while he was in the shower. You're still mentally replaying the moment he stepped back in your room, towel wrapped around his waist with droplets of water cascading down his body. His prominent abs and tattoos and wet hair had you scrambling to sit up, clearing your throat as you tasked yourself with handing him his mug. If he noticed you ogling him, he surely didn’t react to it.

Made us some cocoa, you said.

He brought the beverage to his nose and sniffed once, twice, before his entire face bunched up. Peppermint is nasty. Then he was gulping it down.

I thought it was nasty, you laughed in disbelief.

Nothing you make me can be nasty. Thank you, baby.

And now you’re thoroughly warm from the tips of your fingertips down to your toes, and you figure it has less to do with the cocoa and more with the way Jungkook so obviously loves you. The way you love him.

Feeling a tugging at your shirt, you look down to see him peering up at you with a dazed twinkle in his eye. "You're not hot in this?"

You purse your lips and pause, knowing what was coming. "No. Are you?"

He has the decency to look a little clueless. He was always doing that, in a playfully childish way you grew to love.

"Actually, yeah I am," Jungkook furrows his brows, like it was something he was just now realizing. And then he's sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head, and you're instantly staring at his back and remembering the way it feels to rake your fingers up and down it, and he's turning back to you with a lazy smirk. "You don't wanna take yours off, angel?"

You swallow. "I'm okay."

Jungkook starts to laugh, that cocky laugh that is equal parts douchebag-ish and sexy. He's most definitely turning you on and he most definitely knows this, which is why you're glaring at him until he reaches over you and picks up the mistletoe from your bedside desk. He dangles it over your heads, makes sure to wriggle his eyebrows suggestively when he does it, and you want to laugh, you really do. You would probably roll your eyes and call him a nerd too while you were at it, if it weren't for the way he was changing his position and starting to lean over you. Crowding your space in your favorite way.

Jungkook hears your breathing pick up once you're directly under him, watches the way your lips part and your eyes change for him, and decides to go for the kill.

Nothing about the kiss was soft or gentle. Jungkook clearly had a point to prove and knew how he wanted to do it. The dangling mistletoe was soon forgotten in favor of holding your face by your chin, landing with a chime on your wooden floors. He worked your mouth open in that sloppy, messy, dirty way he only exhibited when he was feeling particularly desperate. Saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth and you were trembling underneath him, clutching at the warm skin of his back. It was nasty, absolutely obscene the way his tongue was in your mouth like his life depended on it. And you loved it. You couldn't stop making these little sounds, and Jungkook was groaning into your mouth right along with you. You were seconds away from pleading for him to do anything he wanted, to make you his, when he's abruptly pulling from you with a wet pop and a string of saliva between you.

Your ragged breaths fill the air, both of your chests heaving as you take a second to attempt to drag yourself out of the haze he's built around you two.

The asshole has the audacity to laugh. "Hot yet?"

"You don't have to bring out the mistletoe to kiss me, you know." You eventually say instead.

"I know," He pants, still smiling like the all-consuming beauty he is. "But you love Christmas. And it's our first. Wanna do it right."

You feel the need to close your eyes, let his words sink in, and so you do. You let the statement blanket over you until you're positively beaming, and when you open your eyes, he is the same. You are so irreversibly in love and you think he might be perfect. You tell him as much.

"You're perfect," You say, all soft and starry eyed. You're nodding when he starts shaking his head, and when the tips of his ears begin to turn red and he's putting his head down, you're giggling and putting both hands on either side of his head to get his eyes back on yours. "I love you a lot."

Jungkook is so happy. "Love you most."

And then he's leaning down again. This kiss is much less frantic, more steady, but still passionate and still with Jungkook, which means it fills your body with heat all the same. Your head is floating and you're squirming under his hold again when you break apart for air.

There's no point in trying to resist him anymore. You never can.

"I'm gonna take my sweater off now."

Jungkook scrunches his nose, and grins. "Okay."

read part two here!

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #fluff #humor #jungkook fanfiction #jeongguk #kpop #kpop fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook series #jeongguk x reader

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moving-accounts-uwu · 4 years

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Right Where You Were Meant To Be (Bucky x Plus-size!Reader)

Fandom: Marvel

Characters: Bucky x Plus-size!reader

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, body-shaming

Story type: One-shot

Word count: 2.7k words

Summary: Reader has a crush on Bucky the second she looked at him but she also has feelings of self-consciousness about her body and doubts she’d ever end up with Bucky or any guy like Bucky. That all changes one night at one of Tony’s parties.

(A/N: This is a cute little one-shot idea I had and just wanted to write out. I feel there aren’t many plus-size!reader stories so I wanted to make my own. I’m a chubby girl and felt like I needed some love, lmao. Any mistakes I take responsibility for, this story wasn’t beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!!! Also, the gif isn’t mine, but he just looks so precious <3)

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It all started when you looked at him for the first time. He had just moved into the Tower, and you had just gotten the job as Tony's new assistant since Pepper had become CEO of Stark Industries. Because you worked in an environment with superheroes who were very fit and healthy, you had become self-conscious of yourself; whether it would be what you wore, the things you ate, or just how your body looked in general.

Being a bigger girl, it often took a toll on your mental health when you would notice the glances, the whispering, the judgmental stares, and how shopping for clothes in your size was difficult, and it made you feel like you had to lose weight to fit in and belong. You felt alone and isolated.

You didn't have any friends; you didn't even talk to many of your co-workers, and just kept to yourself a majority of the time. When Bucky moved in, you noticed he did the same. He didn't speak much to the rest of the team, he mostly stayed in his room, and only hung around Steve. Bucky was very fit, and his muscular body showed it whenever he wore tight-fitted clothing. You would never wear tight-fitted clothing for fear of having your plumpness accentuated.

After five months working for Tony and having a more friendly relationship with the rest of the team, you had built a few close bonds with some of the heroes. Wanda and Natasha were your closest girlfriends and would regularly have 'Lady's Nights' every Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Tony, Clint, Sam, and Steve were like your older brothers and would look out for you.

You and Steve made it a routine to do small exercise and yoga in the afternoons just after 4 o'clock. How this all started was because you wanted to accomplish small goals for yourself, as Sam told you to do to help with your mental health.

"Steve," You called out as you stepped into the Tower's gym, the one place you knew where to find Steve if he wasn't in the common room.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)! What's up?" Steve turned to face you as he held the punching bag still while he watched you walk closer to him, noticing you fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

"I just... I wanted to start doing light exercises, you know, to boost my endorphins, and so I have something to do in the afternoons when I've finished with work." It wasn't a complete lie, but it just sugar-coated the fact that you just wanted to lose weight to gain confidence in yourself.

Steve had agreed to help you; he wouldn't push you too much either because he didn't want you to strain anything and not push you out of your comfort zone too much. Both of you would exercise for an hour each day in the afternoons. This routine had been going on for six weeks, and you were enjoying it. You felt better about yourself each week when you would check your progress and write down how much you lost during the week; you were more confident than you were all those weeks ago before asking Steve for help.

During one of those afternoon exercises, you and Steve were both in the Adho Mukha pose with Steve wearing his usual tight t-shirt that you swore was a size too small, and shorts while you wore a loose, black tank top, and tight-fitted leggings that complemented the shape of your plump ass. You were so in the zone that you hadn't heard the gym doors open and the sound of footsteps coming closer to you. Bucky stood behind you and Steve, him getting an eyeful of your butt while he cleared his throat to catch his best friend's attention.

"Hey, Bucky! I didn't notice you were there. (Y/N) and I were doing some yoga, would you like to join us?"

You. Were. Mortified. You quickly stood up beside Steve and looked down at your feet, trying to avoid looking at Bucky after having your ass practically in his face.

"Uh, I kinda have to get ready for 'Girl's Night' tonight, but I think Bucky can keep you company." You nervously spoke, having your words jumble out quickly due to your inner-embarrassment. "I'll see you later, Steve!"

You bolted out of the gym as fast as your legs could go and made it up into your room without another incident. When you flopped onto your bed, you let out a loud, exhausted sigh before closing your eyes shut tightly. 'Why did I have to act like a nervous wreck? You didn't even let him talk for Christ's sake!' After beating yourself up over the little incident, you started to get ready for 'Girl's Night' with Nat and Wanda.

It was two hours into 'Girl's Night' and you, Nat and Wanda had, at least, drank four glasses of Kraken Rum and about three shots of Vodka. You were more relaxed and carefree, enjoying your time with your best friends while gossiping about an episode of Criminal Minds you all saw the other day together.

"Not gonna lie, I would love to have a man like Morgan. Have you seen his muscles? And how he kicks down doors like a badass?" You gushed.

"That is true, and I fully believe Morgan and Garcia should be together. They have chemistry and look so cute!" Wanda loved her Morgan and Garcia ship.

"Eh, I like to have a super cute genius but that's just my opinion" Nat took a sip of her fruity vodka drink while shrugging her shoulders.

"Of course you would, you're with Bruce and that's a little bias, Nat." You gently shoved your red-haired friend playfully.

You and Wanda giggled like school girls when Natasha scoffed before she pointed an accusing finger at you.

"Well, says you, (Y/N)! You practically drool whenever you see Barnes."

That shut you up quickly. 'How does she know?! Play it off'

"That's very funny Nat, but I don't know what you mean."

"Don't bullshit me, (Y/N). I've seen the way your cheeks get all pink and how your eyes are glued to him whenever he walks by. You're so smitten it's grossly cute." Then Wanda turned to you with a small smirk on her face.

"Maybe you should ask him to work out with you and Steve!"

Flashbacks of your embarrassment earlier that day made your face go pale. 'Absolutely not'. You shook your head furiously, staring at your two friends with fear. There was no way you'd have the guts to do such a thing, not after how you acted around him before. Plus, you didn't want him to look at you with disgust when he looks at you working out. You shake off all the negative thoughts before finishing off your last bits of rum.

"I think I'm going to head off to bed now, gotta wake up early tomorrow. Tony wants me to help him organize and plan a gala party to celebrate his newest project. And when I say to 'help him' I mean I'll be doing most of the work while he hides away in his lab with Bruce." You said before walking off and waving the girls goodbye.

2 weeks later...

You had most of the gala planned out. You had booked a cute catering company to organize some food dishes for everyone and even hired a group of people to decorate one of the large common rooms that would fit all the guests on Tony's guest-list. You had even bought a cute new dress to wear for the party. The party was starting that night at 7:30 and you would hopefully get everything done while having an hour and a half to spare to get ready.

When the decorating and planning finished, you quickly made your way to your room and got showered and changed. You stood in front of your mirror for quite some time, nitpicking every flaw you could see, judging your appearance because you knew how the other women at the party were going to look flawless and have every man swooping in for them. A sudden knock on your door snapped you out of your negative thoughts.

"(Y/n), you ready?" Wanda's voice called from the other side.

"Y-yeah! I'm coming now." You dashed for the door to get away from the mirror so you can't put yourself down even more. Once opening the door, Wanda linked your arm with hers, and both of you walked toward the elevator.

Telling FRIDAY which floor, you both arrived just as a few of the guests were mingling around; drinking, eating, and chatting. You glanced around, hoping to see the familiar faces of your friends, spotting Sam, Nat, and Clint near the bar where Natasha was serving the drinks. Tony was standing next to Pepper and being an absolute flirt as always while Steve and Bucky were standing near a corner with drinks in hand. Before you could make your way over to the bar, Wanda told you to wait where you were while she goes to quickly touch up her make-up, disappearing before you could say a word. You stood there awkwardly and looked around, making sure everything was going swimmingly until you felt a presence behind you. A tap on your confirmed that someone was indeed behind you.

You turned around to see a group of two slender women and three muscular men staring at you with smug and cocky smiles on their faces.

"Can we get some more drinks? And make them with a little more alcohol this time." One of the men quirked an eyebrow, waiting for you to scurry off to grab their drinks.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not part of catering. I'm-"

"You certainly look it though, I mean, you're not dressed like you're here as a guest. The dress you're wearing looks like the other catering staff." A woman spat, her eyes narrowed at you. You started to feel self-conscious about your outfit now, realizing the color-scheme looked very similar to the catering staff.

"Plus, the dress isn't that flattering for your body hun. We can practically see your muffin top and panty lines with how tight that dress is on you." The other woman commented while she leaned to the side to glance at more of your plush figure.

A stinging sensation began to appear behind your eyes, feelings of doubt, and an anxiety attack began to make themselves known. So looked away from the group and quickly made for the elevator, shooting Wanda a quick text saying you weren't feeling too well. 'How stupid of me to think I even looked good or that I could fit in at the party.' By the time the elevator doors reached your floor and the doors opened, hot tears were falling down your cheeks as you tried to furiously wipe them away with zero results. The tears kept flowing down as you began to walk down the hallway to your room; quiet footsteps barely making noise as they followed you. Just as your hand settled on the door handle, a warm hand clasped onto your shoulder gently. With a yelp, you spun around with a jump to look at your "attacker", only to find a pair of stormy blue eyes staring at your teary eyes intensely.

Bucky's eyes held hints of concern and worry, but it was hard to see because he was good at hiding his emotions, and the fact that your eyes were blurry from crying.

"You okay, (Y/n)? I saw you leave the party quickly and noticed how fast your breathing was." Bucky had to look down at you because he was so tall, or was it because you were just very short?

"I'm fine, Bucky. I just don't do well in crowded places or with so many strangers. I got a bit overwhelmed but it's fine now." You weakly smiled but he could see right through it, he always did.

"You had a panic attack after speaking to a group of people, and judging by the looks they gave you while talking to them, I can only believe it wasn't a pleasant conversation." Bucky then brought both his flesh and metal hands to cup your face while he peered into your eyes more. "Tell me what happened, doll."

You sighed, you knew he wasn't going to let this go. Even though you both barely spoke to each other, he still cared for you like the both of you knew each other for years. Something about his calm voice and caring nature helped your nerves settle.

"They thought I was part of catering and asked if I could get them more drinks. I told them I wasn't catering, only for them to make snarky comments about my outfit and body. But it's fine, I'm used to having those comments made to me, I've dealt with those types of people all my life." Your hands gently held his and tried to move them away from your face but Bucky didn't budge.

"You don't believe them, right? I mean, I think the dress looks good on you. It shows off your curves and any man who doesn't get blown away is blind."

You gave a humorless laugh and shook your head at Bucky, looking down at the floor.

"You're just saying that to be nice to me, Buck. We both know girls like me don't belong in a place like this, or a party like that. You can go back to the party, I don't want to waste more of your time." You went to turn away when Bucky held your upper arms tightly.

"Not a chance, doll. I'm not a fan of crowds myself and was about to leave the party myself until I saw you run away. I'd rather spend my time with you and making sure you don't ever think that you don't belong."

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, his stare was intense with adoration and love while you stared at him in shock that he'd want to spend time with you. Before you could blink, Bucky leaned down and you felt his soft lips on yours, his arms wrapping around you and caging you into a warm and gentle embrace. Your hands rested onto his firm chest while his hands rested on your lower back, just above your butt. At first, you were in shock but then you gave in to the kiss and snaked your arms around his neck, your fingers embedded into his long hair.

The kiss was full of passion, and so much love that you didn't think it was possible. When the need for air was too much, you both separated and looked into each other's eyes once again.

"H-how? Why me? We barely know each other!"

"Because, (Y/n), I've been smitten for you since I first laid eyes on you but didn't have the guts to tell you. Steve's been a punk and trying to get me to join your work out sessions for weeks but I was too nervous to do it." Bucky's cheeks tinted red as he chuckled.

"And why's that? I was scared that if saw me working out, that you'd be grossed out by my body." You explained, chewing on your bottom lip.

"I could never be grossed out, sweetheart. I love a woman with curves and plumpness to her. I was nervous that if I watched you work out, I would try to make a move on you too fast and scare you away. I didn't want that to happen." Bucky grabbed your chin and leaned in again, his lips almost touching yours. "And you looked downright sexy in those tights, they shape your ass well."

You gasped and lightly smacked his shoulder while he smirked at you. His playfulness coming through. You made the first move this time and got onto your tippy toes to kiss him. This is was quicker than the first but still held the same emotions. With so much strength you underestimated he had, Bucky lifted you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he opened your door and carried you over to your bedroom. Both of you watched a bunch of movies in your room; many kisses were shared before you both passed out, cuddled up under your fluffy blankets, safe in Bucky's arms. Right where you were meant to be all along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading!!! <3 <3 <3

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 262: A Fierce Bad Rabbit

Previously on BnHA: The hospital raid squad, which had two jobs consisting of (1) not letting Ujiko get away, and (2) not letting any of the Noumu break free to go ravage the countryside, impressively failed at both of these tasks (or so I assume) in a remarkably short amount of time. The EndeavorZawaMicLock squad were all occupied with having a very destructive fight in the hospital lobby, leaving my girl Miruko, Goddess of Courage and First of Her Name, to do pretty much all the heavy lifting, which, fine!! Except that Ujiko remembered that he had a bunch of High End Noumus just floating there waiting to be activated, and he was all “!!” and fucking activated them, and like five of them went after Miruko all at once and smashed her into a bunch of machinery and glass tubes, which frankly should have killed her but it didn’t because she’s a fucking boss. But now it’s just her (and Crust, who might do something too, but for now JURY’S STILL OUT) against all these guys while Ujiko speeds off to grab Tomura and abscond. So basically everything that could go wrong has already gone wrong so UH. OKAY.

Today on BnHA: Miruko kicks ass. Then she checks her watch and sees that there’s still time for her to kick more ass, so she does. Then there is still time, because this chapter is all about her kicking ass! So she kicks even more ass!! It’s great!! I have no complaints!! She decapitates a man with her thighs!! That’s a thing that really happens!! Also she loses an arm but WHO HASN’T LOST AND/OR BROKEN THEIR ARMS IN THIS SERIES, REALLY. Everyone is doing it. Somehow she manages to make it look cool because Miruko. Miruko can strangle a man with a cordless phone. She can kill two stones with one bird. Miruko makes onions cry. Death once had a near-Miruko experience. Mirukoooooooo. Anyway the chapter ends with Skeptic warning everyone at The Ol’ Villain Hotel that the heroes are coming, so basically WELCOME BACK, EVERYONE, this manga is back with a vengeance.

guys I’m gonna try to do this recap fast because I’m seeing Heroes Rising tonight at 7:30! and I’m so excited! and for those that asked, yes I do plan on doing some kind of write-up about it, though it’ll all be from memory after the fact so we’ll see how that goes. but !! I’ve waited 84 years for this ahhhhh but anyway so in the meantime let’s see what new and creative ways our heroes are finding to screw this up even more

(ETA: I did it but this thing isn’t edited for shit lol. after I get back I’ll give it a more thorough readthrough so sorry if I missed any really obvious errors! also there are probably way more exclamation points than usual which may or may not be a plus or minus.)

look at this helpful announcement

High End Noumu approaching, everyone. you have been warned. just in case you somehow failed to notice?? IT’S RIGHT THERE Y’ALL LOOK OUT

lmao FINALLY

MORE HEROES. YOU ALL CERTAINLY TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME, but hey welcome to the party. and none of that “I don’t see how that’s a party” sassy shit either. you all know what I’m talking about so get out there and have fun

so they’re standing there all “it’s a talking Noumu!” and YEAH. that’s what I’ve been fucking trying to tell you. thank god someone finally fucking said it out loud so that hopefully the EZML squad can finally take notice of this as well. like guys. bigger fish?! get to frying!!

so now Crust is all “there are more of them ahead, Miruko’s in danger!” which, again, thanks for finally letting everyone else in on this formerly exclusive scoop there pal. ‘preciate it

I... really do not understand Crust’s quirk at all. I’m just gonna own up to it

what is this. what does “zuga” mean fx-wise. why did those scale things on his arms get so big. what are they made of. what’s happening

oh it turns out that if you scroll and read more instead of pausing for ages to ask dumb questions, the thing you were asking about might actually be explained in great detail in the very next panel

but what are they made out of though. and why “Crust”?? ah well I suppose that’s a question for someone who actually cares more than I do

by the way the quality of this scan is actually really good so far, I gotta say. we’re only two pages in, true, but they either cleaned this up really nicely, or this was a much higher-quality scan than usual. either way I am appreciative!

lol this poor Noumu is shook

what did I name you two weeks ago, again? Rusty?? anyways he’s doing his best you guys. gambare my dude, though actually you do need to die, so that’s too bad though

Crust is all “you pitiful living corpse!” with tears in his eyes because he’s dramatic! but jokes aside I do appreciate that he has compassion for these monsters who are all still basically innocent victims at the end of the day

does anyone else actually hear that funny-sounding anime narrator guy in your head nowadays when you read panels like this lol

I can hear the voice so clearly and it’s great

only ten times the strength of a normal human, guys. that’s actually not that bad. I’m only half joking lol. because obviously your average hero is going to be much stronger than a so-called “normal” person too, yes? and I’m pretty sure Miruko has the strength of like 30 humans but I may be overestimating her just slightly but am I though

oh lol I apparently did not learn my lesson about doing commentary before I’m done reading hahaha

so High Ends are on a different tier of their own above even the “high” tier. well that’s just. yeah that sounds more like the “we’re still fucked” update that I was expecting

oh wait, seriously??

are you telling me that all of the High Ends were actually cultivated from villains? so maybe not completely innocent, then? is this Horikoshi’s way of trying to make us feel marginally better about the fact that the heroes are shortly henceforth going to have to exterminate these guys with great prejudice? I mean they’re still basically slaves to Ujiko’s programming now though so that sucks

also I missed this earlier but the narration here basically just confirmed that Noumu are all made from corpses. which I kind of suspected, but the still-very-much-alive Tomura would then be a glaring contradiction to that, no? or is that why he’s so special. anyway I do appreciate that we’re getting a lot of much-awaited answers in this Noumu arc, but some of this is also just raising more questions. gotta be patient I guess

speaking of Tomura, Ujiko’s back in the Tomura room, so. I assume some absconding is soon to occur

oh shit!! so there’s another panel explaining that “artificial transplant of quirks” requires surgery and then three months of stabilization time following that. sooooo I’m pretty sure this mofo just confirmed that he gave Tomura some shiny additional new quirks, so that’s nice! that’s real fucking great! I know we were all eyeing Tomura skeptically and thinking to ourselves “this is almost just right, but needs more death”

wait, what?

“I was already dead anyway” meaning that he knows there’s no way out for him? and so he doesn’t have a secret way out of the lab?? ??? can that really be true?? our intrepid heroes actually did their job right and the villains had no contingency plan?? oh my god I am so terrified of letting my guard down lmao I still refuse to believe this at all

and is that Tomura who’s at 70% stabilization? that would seem to fit with the timeline we were given. holy shit is he unboxing him early fsdfkjalsdk are we about to go from “fucked” to “exorbitantly fucked”

and why am I strangely excited about it sob!!

HAHAHAHA OH GOD

so this is how liberty dies. with a beep

also fuck you all, now it’s at 71%?! couldn’t leave it at a nice even number for us, could you? you just had to throw that extra percent in there at the last moment to fuck with us all

anyway did you all catch how fucking ripped he was there though? like boiiii whaaaaat. clearly his abs are already at 100%

OH MY GOD

DOES NOTHING FUCKING FAZE THIS BEAUTIFUL, RULE-BREAKING MOTH

HAHAHA

RIGHT??

HOLY FUCKING MOLY

friendly reminder that Dabi was all good and ready to throw down with both Endeavor and Hawks (who were admittedly weakened by that point) that one time a while back, but then Miruko showed up and he was all “lol nope I think the fuck not” and warped out of there. Dabi, whose quirk is so powerful that its only apparent downside is the fact that it roasts him alive as well. that Dabi took one look at Miruko and decided he likes having his spine intact and fucking vamoosed, because that is the smart fucking thing to do when this girl shows up smiling at you the way that she is smiling at these Noumu now

anyway. fucking Ujiko knew he needed at least five High Ends to even stand a chance of slowing her down, is all I’m saying. y’all better respect the FUCK out of Miruko, everyone. it’s the law

anyway. so. quirk: bunny. can smash rl gud

someone needs to ask Horikoshi the fuck kind of rabbits he has been hanging out with. applied that “and more!” part pretty fucking liberally huh. WHO DID YOU SAY TRIX WERE FOR AGAIN, CHILDREN??

NOBODY THROWS MIRUKO IN THE BRIAR PATCH AND GETS AWAY WITH IT

fffwhatttttttttt

that would be our good buddy Max Rebo. so that’s definitely not an elephant trunk-like thing then. we may need a new name for you

on a side note, I never thought we’d meet another character who looks more like Katsuki than Mitsuki does, and yet every damn week Miruko is proving me wrong. goddamn she is great

lmao wait maybe that wasn’t Max at all, but Jester. because this is clearly Max over here

so Girl!Noumu is a water bender, Jester can do... something weird with his hair, and Max can do anything an elephant can do if that elephant was also powered by steam. nice

HAHAHA BUT MIRUKO IS ALL “KICK!!!”

HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK!!!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. I WOULD READ AN ENTIRE MANGA OF JUST THIS LMAO THIS IS TOO MUCH ADRENALINE I CAN’T

JESTER’S WEIRD SPIKY ROCK HAIR IS SLICING HER ARM AND SHE’S ALL “THAT HURTS YOU JERK!!!!” AND GETTING READY TO FREAKING PILEDRIVE HIM I CAN’T, THOUGH!?

SDKFJLDKSJFLKJ

HER FATHER PEPPY TAUGHT HER THAT. BARREL ROLL ALL OVER THESE BITCHES!!

WHAT THE FUCK

FUCKING QUIRKS!!!! THOUGH!!!! WILLLLLLLLLD

SDKFJLAS;DHK OH MY GOD OH SHIT

real talk this is the scariest fucking quirk I’ve ever seen I was like what the fuck looking at her arm and then I saw him doing the twisty hand gesture and just. fuck. YOU’RE NOT CRIMSON RIOT AT ALL YOU’RE SOME PSYCHO TELEKINETIC BITCH AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!!

NO!!!!!

fuck fuck fuck. I’M SURE HER ARM’S GOING TO BE JUST FINE AND DANDY AFTER THIS GUYS, DON’T WORRY. THIS MANGA HAS SUCH A SERENE AND TRANQUIL HISTORY WITH ARMS. ISN’T THAT RIGHT DEKU

though on the plus side, if she does lose that arm we can count on her to somehow instantly become like 50x more attractive, which I’m pretty sure might cause the very fabric of the universe to unravel but it would be worth it

(ETA: SHE DID AND IT WAS!!)

MADAME PRESIDENT!! MY QUEEN

OH HELL YERRRRRR

fucking hell guys I’m running out of exclamation points and excited things to say here. AND SHE JUST KEEPS GOING! LIKE HER MOM THE ENERGIZER BUNNY BEFORE HER

I’M SORRY UJIKO DID YOU THINK FIVE HIGH ENDS WAS ENOUGH?! MAYBE NEXT TIME WE MAKE IT TEN, HOW ABOUT THAT. FUCK OFF

lmao holy shit I can’t stop laughingggg

well Crimson, at least you get to die happy. is she literally going to crush his face between her thighs. is this entire chapter just one big prank on me. if Miruko was the protagonist would this series have ended in the first chapter. trick question, the answer is it never would have started to begin with because she would have killed All for One years ago!! how much would it cost to hire Miruko to come kick away all of my problems for me

hello good afternoon everyone this is a real panel that really happened in this manga

I don’t even know what to say about anything anymore

sob she’s all “YEAH RIGHT” and SNAPPING HIS FUCKING NECK WITH A FUCKING TRIANGLE CHOKE, THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, FUCKING LOOK!! AT!! THIS!!!

we’re not even gonna make it to 300 chapters. Horikoshi held off for as long as he could, but eventually Miruko couldn’t be contained any longer and he had to unleash her and she instantly went and reckt every last fucking bad guy out there until there was nothing left. who are the kids even going to fight. nobody that’s who. go back to school kids

SON OF A BITCH WHAT IS HAPPENING

THIS IS THE MOST VIOLENT THING I HAVE EVER FUCKING SEEN AND YET SOMEHOW I SWEAR I CAN HEAR ANGELS SINGING. RESPLENDENT

SOBBING!!!!

“S’POSE I SHOULD GET THIS ANNOYING THING CHECKED OUT BEFORE I BLEED TO DEATH OR SOME BULLSHIT.” WHAT AN INCONVENIENCE. JUST A FUCKING FLESH WOUND. NOBODY USES ARMS THESE DAYS ANYWAY

“IF THE ONLY WAY TO STOP YOU IS BY CRUSHING YOUR HEADS THIS WILL BE WAY EASIER THAN HOLDING BACK ON A NORMAL VILLAIN.” SOB THIS IS MIRUKO’S WORLD AND WE’RE ALL JUST BEGRUDGINGLY ALLOWED TO EXIST IN IT. MY BARONESS

DID YOU JUST TOURNIQUET YOUR DISMEMBERED FUCKING LIMB WITH YOUR OWN FUCKING HAIR ONE-HANDED FFCKCK KCKCLK JUST MIRUKO THINGS

Miruko also saw Horikoshi getting ready to end the chapter after 17 pages and was like “EXCUSE YOU THERE” and he backed off because he actually likes having a fucking head thank you very much

LMAO AND NOW OF ALL TIMES WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE OL’ VILLAIN RESORT. SIGH

Skeptic seems to have finally cottoned on to them being in some kind of trouble. huh

how does he know it was Jin who screwed up?? did he realize that Hawks betrayed them oh shit!?!

OOP HE’S SOUNDING THE ALARM

AND THE CHAPTER IS ENDING. BUT I’M NOT DONE SCREAMING. AHHHHHH well anyways I’m off to watch my children kick lots of ass on the big screen. assuming I can get this posted in time with zero editing whatsoever lol I’ve got like... an hour. WE SHALL SEE!

(ETA: we did it lol just barely! this whole thing is probably a giant mess but oh well! Mirukoooooo)

#bnha 262 #miruko #mirko #ujiko daruma #I already forgot his new official name ah well #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste spoiler recap #makeste reads bnha #no time for tags!!#movie!!!!

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sergeanttpoliteness · 5 years

Text

➹one love confession, please➹(peter b. parker x reader)

The sad and divorced man who’s become a regular for the past year is constantly spilling his emotions to you, his favorite bartender. This wasn’t something new; you can’t count with both of your hands the times you’ve heard someone recount the odyssey of their life. But these flutters in your stomach were definitely something you didn’t experience with your customers, and you definitely did not end up making out with them at the end of the night. Maybe Peter B. was your only exception, though.

(PART I)

word count: 12.3k (oof)

warnings: cursing, alcohol, and mentions of sex (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: it’s five am where i live and this is already awfully long so i’m gonna make it as brief as i can. first, i’m sorry it took eight months, but at last, it’s here, and i’m so happy and proud of it ! thank you a million times for the amazing support this story got, seriously. second, this was also for @connorshero 1.6k followers writing challenge, and i can’t express enough how ashamed i am that it took so long lmao, i’m a clown. it’s here, tho, and i hope i hear your thoughts and that y’all enjoy it (:

taglist: @fanbase-jumper

Never in a million years would you have deemed possible a human could undergo through such a crushing feeling of dread, yet, sadly, you found yourself to be wrong, for there you were, a pressure smothering your lungs and an iciness washing over you. You never would have imagined yourself hiding in the bathroom from a certain Peter B. Parker, either; but then again, contrary to your previous thinking, there you sat on the closed toilet seat, your eyes squeezed shut, breathing heavily as a frostbite in your heart eclipsed any other thoughts in your head.

For the last few days, you had tried to repress a memory which physically pained you as you worked at the bar, almost as if it were nothing more than a bizarre dream you had one night, or a movie you watched as a little kid and couldn’t figure out as a grown-up whether it was real or not. It didn’t take long before in your restless little brain, that date did not exist in the calendar. So… strange, how all of sudden you couldn't remember anything from that night. Yeah, nothing happened. There’s no reason or possible explanation as to why you nearly dropped dead to the ground every time the entrance opened, or why your lower stomach erupted like a geyser refusing to rest whenever you caught a glimpse in the mirror of the bruises on your neck and, just maybe, somewhere in the back of your head, recalled how they came to be in the first place; how the small vessels burst, why they’re there. Your self-induced amnesia surprisingly worked. Yeah, like a charm. Until you looked up for the billionth time and it wasn’t another false alarm. The fortress of protection you constructed collapsed as if it took no effort to build it, because there he was— there stood Peter, just a few feet away from you.

Of course, you panicked; hysterically searched your surroundings for an excuse to leave, but no one wanted to bother you when you most needed it. Terrible luck, indeed. You only had two choices (although, really, you most likely had more): you could be, you know, smart and face your problems, or, Peter, to be more concise, or you could run away to hide and wait it out in the bathroom. So, after analyzing it thoroughly for approximately two seconds, what did you do?

Get the fuck out of there, obviously; you threw your towel, sped out of the bar, and instantly headed to have the meltdown of the century in the bathroom.

You screamed into your hands as you relived everything in your head, stomping your foot on the floor tiles. Remorse didn’t suffice anymore to explain the sharp pain in your stomach. You’d sabotaged yourself— you got a nip that night, a morsel of something greater, a catalyst for ‘what if’s and a total loss of self-control, because once the temporary high didn’t satiate you any longer, you’d seek it again. Regardless of your constant imbecility, you weren’t oblivious: it was nothing more than a distraction for Peter’s troubles and conflicting emotions over a woman he’d married, and it would never mean anything to him. It never would, despite how much it meant to you.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out, narrowed eyes reading the recent message while your heart went ballistic.

‘You can’t stay there forever, he’s starting to get suspicious.’

You breathed out, partially relieved. It was your friend. You texted him earlier as you lost it in the bathroom stall, as one does. You were close to getting on your knees and start praying to any superior entity that he was simply imagining stuff like most of the time, attempting to read in between the lines when, in reality, all Peter did was drink his whiskey served over ice, totally unconcerned. Yes, perhaps, you running away didn’t signify ‘subtle’, and the fact that you two hadn’t shared a word or texted ever since you fled his apartment a week prior didn’t brighten the situation at all. Why should it matter if you chose to continue escaping your issues? You could stay there forever, and it was no one’s business. The bar’s urine-scented bathroom could be your new home.

Your phone rang again. ‘Dude, c’mon.’

Goddammit.

Your friend shouldn’t have the power to knock some sense into you with just two messages, but he did anyway. You required an abundance of courage you did not carry to hesitantly walk out of the stall, and then the bathroom. You were sure your heart could hop out of your chest, as gruesome as it may have been, at any moment as Peter’s figure came closer and closer to you with each dreadful step you took. It wasn’t as dramatic in real life, most likely (most definitely). But as if you finally understood your situation, the charisma awakened from its sleep and, in an instant, you let out a disappointed ‘aw!’, replacing your terrified features with an exaggerated pout. “Oh, man! Somebody else already took your order? Unbelievable.”

He reacted as though he overheard the most unbelievable noise— a call from God itself or extraterrestrial life, because he could’ve gotten some whiplash by the way in which his head jerked up.

Peter cleared his throat, unsure of what to do with his hands as he showed you a tight-lipped smile. “Uh, hey! Hey…” He exclaimed and you winked at him. “I thought you weren’t here, or something.”

You thought for a moment. For real this time. You couldn’t say ‘I was just having a breakdown in the bathroom’. “Nah, my boss just needed my help… with stuff,” You waved your hand, aware that your boss had left an hour ago. He hummed and nodded, downing his shot. Wait. Your eyes returned to his glass when you fully took it in. It wasn’t whiskey served over ice.

You pointed at the empty drink in his grasp. “What’s that?”

He glanced down at it, raising a brow. “What, you’ve never seen a shot of vodka?”

“No, no, I mean— yeah, but what the hell happened to your whiskey?”

Peter pressed his lips together, shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno, guess I just… got tired of it?”

The corner of your lips tugged down momentarily. “Ah, I see…” You distracted yourself with a glass, cleaning it despite its already pristine look. You just needed anything to focus on other than Peter. “This is so tragic, your whiskey days have come to an end.” You joked, laughing quietly and disguising the aching in your chest.

He tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow and grinning a confused smile. “What’s wrong with vodka?”

“It’s just… so boring.”

An incredulous grin stretched across his face. “More boring than whiskey?”

Your smile faded, a frown taking its place. “I… I’m guessing I had just grown used to it— I don’t know.”

For the first time in a whole year of weekly meetings and ongoing chatter, an uncomfortable silence sat amongst you two. And for the first time, too, you did not know what to say. “Y/N?” You looked up at him attentively, although you did not want to hear what he had to say at all.

Peter avoided your gaze, instead focusing on his lap, and opened his mouth, closing it when you couldn’t think up any words. “I think, uh… we gotta talk, right? About… y’know.” Your face heated up as red as a field of roses.

You laughed nervously, your hands on the bar as you slanted forward. “...About what?”

“Just, about what happened, and that thing you said the morning after—”

“Did I say anything the morning after?” You cut him off, wishing you’d stuck with your plan of moving into the bathroom.

To your horror, your biggest fear unfolded as Peter let out air through his nose, chuckling without humor.

“Are you gonna try to convince me it was a dream again?” You nearly passed out as Peter cited the words you so vividly remembered uttering. “‘You’re just dreaming?’” It all came back to you, everything— your forced memory loss received a fatal blow as memories bombarded your brain: Peter’s face twisted with puzzlement and sleep after you blurted out your utter nonsense and— how could you forget, oh God, how could you— the cherry on top, your uncomfortably intense five-second staring contest as you headed for the door and dashed out of his apartment.

“‘Wake up?’” He continued and you merely blinked back at him. He didn’t need to fucking quote you and remind you what a joke you were— who does that? But also, who tells the guy you just hooked up with that he’s dreaming after he caught you in the midst of trying to sneak out? B-B-Bingo! Of course, of course it had to be you out of all people.

You stood frozen, like you did that embarrassing morning, begging your head to stop it with the callbacks and breathing out. “What if it was a dream? You never know.” You said, unwilling to give up your idiocy. Peter stared at you, his lack of amusement terrifying you further.

“A dream.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ, Y/N—”

“What?”

“Stop acting like an idiot, please.”

“Peter, you literally could’ve brought up anything else other than this.” You hissed, exasperated. “Any other fucking thing.”

“I can’t not bring this up.”

“Well, why not? I surely can.”

“‘Cause it was weird.”

You grimaced and covered your face with your hands, muffling your words, “Oh my God, I know, I fucking know. What did you want me to do—”

“I don’t know, maybe just talk, you know!” He suggested with raised hands, the harsh sarcasm in his voice deepening your pained expression. “Wh-why did you even say that?! Like—”

“I didn’t want to be there! I just wanted to leave, okay?!” You admitted loudly, uncaring of your blatancy. When you didn’t hear him, your shaking hands slowly unveiled your face. A man two seats away eyed you two as he drank, while Peter stared at the counter with knitted brows, digesting what you said.

“Do you wish it had been a dream?” He asked quietly. You began to tap your finger, your lips shaping the words you wanted to speak, but didn’t exactly know how to.

“No. That’s not it, I…” You croaked out. You couldn’t continue when you noticed what you thought was a flourishing desire in his eyes which you saw that same night back at his place. Just say it. Your fingertips thudded the wood faster, your feet shifting, voice stuttering. Say you’d do it again.

“It was just a one-time thing, right?” You whispered. Then, you doubted if that lust had simply been a delusion your brain fabricated. That, perhaps, you yearned for something bigger so badly you’d projected your own silly cravings onto the man, for all trace of that weakening glimmer was now nothing more than the familiar amity the always held.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Right.” You breathed out.

“It was just a one-time thing.” He repeated as if it were obvious.

“Yes.” You both nodded, unable to look at each other straight in the eye without squirming. As soon as some clients called for you, you shared a last glance before you left. When you returned, all you found were some crumpled dollar bills and no sign of Peter.

You didn’t buy him a gift. And neither did he, but he did send you a message saying, ‘Merry Christmas!’, and there exists a possibility that you broke down crying whilst drunk because of the smiley face he wrote along with it, but that’s something you wouldn’t ever disclose— even if it happened one more time during New Year’s Eve as your head pounded with the people around you religiously blowing their party horns. That was it, though. You didn’t see him at the bar, which a part of you could only be thankful for, but the remaining kicked itself for not fixing things when you had the chance to. For not being honest when you could have.

Your friend yet again with his wisdom from the gods told you to stop wasting time and move on with your life, albeit not as kindly, as if saying it in such a way wasn’t hurtful enough. However, after being too sensitive for two seconds, you sucked it up and knew that he was right.

You managed to keep Peter out of your thoughts most of the time, focusing on your job and getting additional money with your paintings to treat yourself. You could go out more with your friends, buy a new TV, maybe save for the vacation you’d been dreaming of for the past years. For some time, as there was no Peter in your head nor at the bar, it was just like before the man nearing his forties and with a really, really nice nose sat down in front of you.

You could only maintain him out of your orbit for so long, though.

You sat at another bar two blocks down your place, hunched over and your eyes glued on your cell phone’s screen, anticipation pulling imaginary strings connected to your fingers which fidgeted, tossed the device from hand to hand. Your friend was the fourth person you texted in the last thirty minutes, an act born from desperation, perhaps; created upon an urgency for an anchor, a quick fix that would momentarily patch up the heaviness in your chest that made an unwanted visit too many times to your liking and dissipate all the thoughts in your head. You needed something, a distraction, anything— hell, you’d even texted your boss, a known shopaholic, asking if she wanted to go shopping. But everyone appeared to be doing something that night, too engaged in their own affairs to remember you. It was selfish, you understood, to think that way; they had lives, after all. Nevertheless, that selfishness was a blemish you couldn’t vanish as the three dots emerged, followed by the exact same message you dreaded: ‘Can’t tonight, I’m with dad. What about tomorrow?’ There was no tomorrow, though. No, you ached for it right now, in that instant, something.

Peter.

No. You couldn’t. Another decline was a final blow you couldn’t withstand, anyway, especially from him. However, you weren’t the one making the decisions anymore. Your heart manipulated your limbs, and in a blur, you’d searched his contact. Too soon to your liking, you heard that tedious beeping, your heartbeat then the sole noise in your ears once it halted. All of a sudden, you couldn’t talk, your words lodged in your throat, because it was strange to hear that voice again and it was too much for you right now.

“Y/N? Are you there?” Peter said after you didn’t make the slightest sound, hesitance evident in his tone, for he wondered whether it’d been an accidental butt dial. You took in a big breath and pressed your phone closer to your ear, your elbows aching from the hard counter they rested upon.

“...Hi.” You scrunched up your nose, shaking your head at yourself.

“What… what’s up?” It was odd, you both knew, because when did you ever call each other, and when was the last time you two talked? But turning a blind eye to your friend’s advice, you itched to fulfill your own cravings that night— it didn’t really matter what kind, but just a friend was all you needed, just someone.

You stuttered for a while, internally grateful he remained silent and waited for you to clear your mind. “Nothing. That’s why I’m calling, I guess. Just wanted to talk.”

“To talk?” You could hear the engines of driving vehicles in the background and you frowned, scratching the back of your head.

“Sorry, are you busy? I didn’t mean to bother you. I can call another time—”

“No, no!” He stopped you, your heart growing wings, fluttering and capable of flying out of your chest with how gentle he sounded. “I just got done with something and I’m going back home, you don’t have to hang up.”

You hit the tip of your shoes against the bar, tense brows still not relaxing. “Oh, okay…”

“Are you at work?

“No, my shift ends at a normal time on Friday’s, thankfully.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I see— so you’re home alone and bored?”

You observed the place around you, focusing on the bartender and then on your drink. “Eh, not exactly.” You closed your hand into a fist, struggling to not dissect the skin around your nails like an animal in a biology class. “I know this is unusual, we never really talk outside of the bar and we haven’t seen each other in a while, but…”

“It’s kinda our first phone call, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your lip trembling. “Y-Yeah. Our first phone call.” You almost cursed when your voice wavered.

“Hey, you alright?”

You sighed, scratching your head. “Not gonna lie, I’ve been better.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s stupid, I don’t know. It’s a Friday night— everyone’s out having a good time, and I’m just… here, in a bar and on my own.” You shrugged, your nails carving the timber.

“It’s not stupid.” He murmured and you snorted, unconvinced. “If it makes you feel any less alone, I’m not exactly out partying and having a good time, either.”

“Do you even still party, grandpa?”

“Just ‘cause I’m old, it doesn’t mean I still haven’t got the moves.”

“It definitely sounds like you don’t.”

“Don’t sound so sure, you haven’t seen me at my best.” Seeing him wasn’t necessary, you could easily imagine his teasing grin.

“Hm, yeah, I’d immediately take off my clothes if you pretended to lasso me at the club.” You both giggled and you hugged yourself, glancing at the empty stool beside you, biting the inside of your cheek. “Do you maybe want to come and have a drink with me?” You shot your shot, to your thumping heart’s dismay. Guessing by the click you distinguished, he probably just got back home.

“...Have a drink with you?”

“J-Just to hangout, you know.” You quickly explained. “Chat for a while. I can pay, if you want.”

You waited for a response, a rejection. But it didn’t come.

It was quite embarrassing, to say the least, that after he agreed and you hung up, you almost dropped your phone with how the fright weakened your arms as you tried to send him the bar’s address. You eagerly waited, too, like a damn puppy anticipating its owner’s return at the end of the day. Using your phone’s selfie camera, you checked your appearance, tidying up all just to make yourself look way more put together than you actually were, even if you were in a bar, alone, and, well, drinking. Despite your awaiting, though, you were taken off guard when a man chose to settle down beside you and cleared his throat.

“I gotta say, it’s weird to see you on the other side of the bar,” Peter smiled as a greeting. Your eyes scanned him, taking in his presence, struggling to process it as if he were a ghost. In your defense, it did feel as if he hadn’t been part of your world for the last two months.

You chuckled, shyly moving your view to your beverage. “Sorry, I won’t be playing bartender tonight.”

“Too bad, I like it when you give me free drinks.”

“Technically, you still are getting free drinks from me tonight.”

He huffed, a crooked smile lingering on his face. You called for the bartender and side-glanced at Peter, quietly asking what he wanted and biting back a disappointed grunt when it wasn’t whiskey served over ice. Whatever. It was just a drink. You two didn’t share a look after that small interaction, though, your face flustered, redder than the bartender’s awful and painful-to-look-at-from-how-bright-it-was shirt. You preferred to believe it was the alcohol, regardless of the truth that you hadn’t drunk that much yet. But your skin burned since he was there, and suddenly, the last disastrous meeting you two experienced replayed way too loudly in your head, the scorching sensation only spreading further and gaining more vigor with the possibility that it did the same in his, too. The unspoken and evident discomfort was enough to make you assume that it definitely was on his mind.

You made the effort to spark up a conversation with the dreaded small talk. ‘How have you been?’, ‘Anything new?’, ‘The weather’s been pretty cold lately, huh?’— blah, blah, blah. Nonetheless, neither of you had more to say other than short, boring responses. It became so unbearable, you knew the only way you could get through this night— seeing as you couldn’t leave after he’d just gotten there— depended on your current and whoever many you could afford future drinks. Quite an alcoholic mindset, perhaps, but there was no way you were the only one or that Peter didn’t have the same wish as you.

Holding your third drink, tispy thoughts pressed you to climb out of the hell you were in. You turned your body to face him, nudging his leg with your foot. He’d been paying attention to a wildlife documentary and an animal hiding from its predator before he lifted an eyebrow and nodded at you. “What?”

“Where have you been?”

A crease formed between his brows as he found it hard to differentiate this question from the one you asked earlier. “I told you, I haven’t really been up to much—”

You shook your head. “That’s not what I asked. Where have you been?” Peter pursed his lips, contemplating.

“New York.”

You hummed, bringing your drink up to your lips. “Okay. So if you were here, how come I haven’t seen you since, uh—” You pretended to count in your head, tongue poking out of your mouth as you summed with your fingers. “—December?”

“I was busy.” You narrowed your eyes.

“I thought you hadn’t been up to much?”

“I… haven’t,” Peter said slowly, too far in to escape the contradiction. You bit your lip before finishing your half-empty drink all in one go, head spinning, the weight in your stomach drawing you down to the Earth’s core.

It’s difficult to perceive the line between overthinking and legitimacy. It’s so fine and faint, like a message written with chalk in the middle of the neighborhood’s road that can only be deciphered if you stare at it long and closely enough after the days have passed by and the rain showered upon it. On one side, the message was nothing more than scrawls and nonsensical letters, an unnecessary distraction on the road disrupting you from reaching your destination on time. But then, there was the other side: the truth. A truth that, funnily enough, you reached by overthinking in the first place. Which was what occurred when you suspected the reasoning behind the lack of Peter in your life could be pinpointed to the man purposefully avoiding you; and, right now, grasped that, after all, it wasn’t just another case of irrational overanalyzing.

“Do you hate me?” You blurted out, your eyes going round with the disappearance of your filter. Confusion overflowed Peter’s head and spilled into his expression, adorning his face.

“Huh?”

“Do you hate me—”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Where the hell did that come from, though?”

“You’ve been ignoring me.” You stated the obvious, visibly hurt. Peter denied with his head the misconception, sighing.

“It wasn’t intentional.” He assured you not just with his words but his gaze, too. You pressed your lips together, not fully convinced.

“Was it not?” You asked with a small quirk of your mouth. He stared at you, embarrassment crawling across his skin.

“Alright, maybe it was.” He admitted sheepishly. You let out air through your nose, turning on your seat.

“So you do hate me.”

“Y/N,” Peter called for your attention, although he knew it was half-joke. You returned your attention to him. “If I hated you, would I be here, sitting next to you?” He questioned, motioning around him. You shrugged one shoulder, a grin growing on your face.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just being nice.” You said and he groaned jokingly, sporting his very own lopsided grin.

“I’m being nice because I like you.”

Your smile fell for an instant, but you put the expression back up, reminding yourself that, once more, it didn’t go further than platonic. “Good. But you were mad, then.”

“No, not exactly.”

“You left without saying goodbye last time.”

Peter frowned, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I did. Sorry.” He apologized, the sincerity interlaced in his voice worsening your state. You wanted to place your hand on your chest, as you diagnosed with your zero quantity of medical knowledge that you had a high chance of having a heart attack before the night came to an end.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?”

“Well,” You placed your chin on the palm of your hand, moving your eyes elsewhere. “First, for being a dumbass back when we hoo—”

“You know what? You’re fine.” He interrupted you. “Save yourself some time.”

Your brows snapped together. “But—”

“You were right. Let’s just not talk about it and move on, alright?” He waved his hand, grabbing his drink. “If you do talk about it, I think I’m actually gonna get up and leave.”

You laughed, nodding. “Ah, I see. So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, then?”

His actions halted in the midst of taking a sip. “Maybe.” He answered vaguely.

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Peter.” You pointed out like the hypocrite you were, particularly after that was exactly what you were doing not too long ago. Peter, unaware of this, however, had to admit you spoke the truth as he rubbed his nose with his knuckles, grumbling.

“You see, you say that, but I’m still gonna continue doing it.”

“No, you’re not, because we’re going to discuss this like adults—”

“As an adult, I’m telling you that all is good and I’m over it.” He finished with a warning tone you couldn’t take seriously and you giggled. “Next topic.”

“Okay, grandpa. Sure thing. All is good.” You grinned, the ice in your heart melting off as he copied your countenance.

“For real this time.”

“Yeah. For real this time. Can I be honest with you, though?” Peter waited for you to go on, paying close attention, his gaze soft. You stared at him for a moment too long ‘till your eyes moved to your hand now feebly holding your empty drink. “I missed you. Kind of. Is that dumb?” You mumbled, your voice small.

You couldn’t properly see him, but through your peripheral vision, you didn’t catch any movement. That’s when you prepared to scream ‘sike!’ to his face— a real-life undo button to delete the emotions you couldn’t take back and shove down your system anymore. However, it felt… good. For once, it wasn’t spilling your guts out and regretting everything as you attempted to cram your organs back into you; you had plucked out a thorn that’d been hanging inside the palm of your hand for far too long. It was liberating. And you peered up at him, expecting that relief to be temporary, but his tender features didn’t let that happen.

“...No. I missed you, too.”

You both smiled.

The conversation began to flow. Words started to spill, and although you weren’t at the bar, you enjoyed that exact same security and blissful buzz. You realized then— a revelation that did not help your case— the location didn’t play an important role, and perhaps it never did; bar or not, if Peter was there, you’d still feel stupidly and overly content. Your worries faded away as you two caught up with no drop of MJ’s name, but some lingered anyway, because change was inevitable, looming over you. Laughter left your lips, his hand rested close to yours on the counter. You noticed, but couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, to walk away from the euphoria tainting your body. More liquor entered his, over time you stared at his mouth one, two, three, four seconds too long as you became intoxicated along with him, and so did he with yours.

“C’mon, tell me.” You pouted for an instant, interchanging it for a drunk smile. “Your secret dies with me.”

Peter slammed his fifth drink down, cheeks tinted pink. It was wrong, indeed, to take advantage of his condition and try to get out of him something you’d wanted to know for the longest time, and that he kept to himself as if it were government classified information. In your drunken brain, it did not seem too far off. Perhaps he went on outrageous underground missions. You laughed at yourself. Peter didn’t seem like a spy-type of guy. Unless…

“Do you, like, work for the government?” Peter screwed up his face at your absurdity.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Peter opened his mouth, a giggle escaping. “I can’t.” You dragged your stool closer to him, as you weren’t close enough already. Actually, when did you get so close? It didn’t matter. You analyzed his face, hoping that somehow, if you looked at him long enough, you’d gain the ability to read minds and crack into his. Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, studying you like you were the most interesting being. You didn’t know why, but you felt tempted to move that strand of hair that always hung in front of his forehead away from his face. As any rational person wouldn’t, you did, your thumb brushing against the barely visible scratch that started the conversation in the first place.

“What are you thinking?” You questioned, brimming with interest. He went crossed-eyed as he tried to follow your hand.

“About stuff. Whatcha thinkin’?” He asked back, his view traveling down to your lips. You bit your lip.

The closeness, your full-blown pupils, the actuality that you could lean closer to him and you’d meet his lips. It all seemed too familiar. And so you wondered, if you did move and kiss him, if you stopped resisting and glanced down at his lips, too, what would happen?

“I don’t know. What does it look like I’m thinking?” You asked, lowering your voice. The stench of alcohol should have been enough to stop you both from advancing any further, but Peter licked his lips, smirking.

“It seems to me like you wanna fuck me.”

You gasped, hiccuping. “Oh, my! I didn’t know this part of yours, Peter B. Parker. Is it just the alcohol speaking?”

“Maybe. But is it true?”

“What?”

“What I said.”

Your upper body swayed closer to him, tired, dizzy, and wishing to lie down. You gripped his shoulder and helped yourself add some distance, your other hand landing on his knee. “Maybe.” You simply said. Your eyes remained interlocked into one another, your hand running up his shoulder to his neck, and then all the way up to the back of his head, sensing his goosebumps. “Maybe…” You repeated as your touch on his knee traveled up his thigh. Peter took in a sharp breath, his hand unconsciously wrapping around your wrist.

You couldn’t help it anymore. You leaned in and captured his mouth in a rough kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pull away, a voice said in your head as you felt his tongue momentarily slide against your bottom lip. Pull away, the nagging voice went on and you did, shaking your head.

“I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen again.” You whispered, yet your mouth came back into a messy kiss, even messier hands craving touch. Breaking glass startled you two apart and you looked down, sighing when you saw your drink’s contents all over the ground. “You owe me a drink.” You panted, your lips swollen.

Peter scoffed, his half-smile blurring your vision as he tilted his head towards your ear. “Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.” He said, mouth ghosting near your cheek despite his words, yearning to continue. You pecked his jaw, lips resting against his hot skin, careless about the other customers in the bar.

“I do want something to happen, though.”

You both ignored the conversation your sober selves had. ‘It was just a one-time thing, right?’. Peter slammed your apartment’s door closed whilst your lips were still connected, your hands clumsily coming down to try to unbuckle his belt. ‘Yeah’. His own hands aided yours, the clinking of his belt buckle speeding up your heartbeat as if it weren’t already dangerously fast. ‘It was just a one-time thing’. Peter groaned into your mouth, tasting like liquor, like something you’d both regret the next morning but did not care about the consequences, even if it was a lesson you’d already learned. Not at the moment.

But nothing happened.

You couldn’t recall much the next morning. The first proof that it didn’t go further from a make-out session was that you woke up in your bed, alone, and wearing the same clothes as the previous night. The second evidence you gathered when you barged into your living room and there slept Peter on your couch, his appearance also identical to the one in your hazy memories. He didn’t remember anything. As you struggled to cease your trembling legs, he simply laughed and asked if he got so wasted he had to crash at your place. You shrugged and smiled, still capable of tasting his lips and vividly feel his hot breath.

From then on, you avoided drinking or being too exhausted to have any common sense when you were around Peter. One day he invited you to go out and have a few drinks again, to ‘repay’ you, and to which you responded as calmly as you could that you had other ‘plans’; other plans that, truthfully, were faker than the disappointed expression of yours that followed. Then, as if you couldn’t ever reach a state of peace, he asked again a month later, and you had no other choice than to invent a faulty reason for why you didn’t feel like drinking that night, the next night, or the one after, even if, according to all the drunk stories you’d recounted to him in the past, you never really turned down a drink or the opportunity to get inebriated. Guilt poisoned you when he never brought up the idea after that, fingers crossed that he didn’t get the impression you didn’t want to meet him in other circumstances other than the bar; regardless that that’s exactly what was going on. Every other night after he helped you with closing the bar, you’d also nod goodbye at him and stand in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting until he turned around the corner so your feet could dreadfully carry you to the subway station, your now-unfixable car present in your head like an aggravating piece of gum that stuck to your shoe.

Nothing could be more vexing than this, though.

Eventually, you began to wonder. Perhaps, yet again, you were as weary as that time you slept with Peter, seeing as you couldn’t think straight, almost as if you’d suffered from a concussion and all your neurons died, to your utmost dismay. But there was a dissimilarity: the unfortunate detail that, unlike physical fatigue, mental exhaustion wouldn’t pack its bags and wave farewell after a night-long sleep. Not when immediately after you woke up, the same worries still found their home within your head. So your imagination took it as an initiative to force feelings and schemes onto you, ones which involved the stomach-churning plausibility that maybe, just maybe, Peter liked you back and you could happily come clean. You had to laugh. But then you really started to wonder.

You needed at least six reasons to follow through with it. First. He was the one who made a move months ago. Second. He wasn’t drunk. Third, you listed in your head, you kissed. Again. And, fourth, this time he might have been drunk, but if he did it both as a sober man and a drunk one, it had to mean something, right?

You were struggling to distinguish the line between overthinking and legitimacy again.

You went to work that day, decided, the fifth reason simply being that you couldn’t get him out of your head, but the sixth reason missing. A truck landing on you would probably do the job, you thought. You didn’t mean it whole-heartedly, of course. But, apparently, the universe didn’t know about sarcasm and how it worked since, an hour after the thought passed through your head, it sent you a nice little gift and Spider-Man just so happened to get in a fight near the bar and an actual truck broke through the walls of the pub.

“I can’t fucking believe a truck landed right here. This is why I hate living in this city so much,” You scoffed, holding a towel wrapped around ice up to your bruised forehead as you observed the gigantic hole where the truck happily invited itself into. Peter barely reacted to your comment, too focused on disinfecting the wound in your arm. You pulled the makeshift ice bag away from your head, screwing your eyes shut. “I’m starting to get a headache from how cold this is, can I—”

Peter grabbed your hand and forced it back up to your forehead, shaking his head and focusing again on your arm. “No, trust me, it will reduce the swelling.”

“Should I be worried that you know so much about injuries?”

“I’m just trying to help.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your lap. “I know. Thanks.” You smiled, recalling the urgency in his voice after he called you, saying he’d seen what’d happened on the news. He moved on to the gauze and began to bandage your arm, making sure his movements were delicate lest he hurt you more. “I met Spider-Man, though. I think I can finally die in peace.” You caught the way the corner of his mouth lifted upward.

“Really? Did he apologize for almost killing you?” Peter grumbled, accepting the scissors you offered him to cut the cotton fabric. You released a huff of air, admittedly offended and immediately going to defend the masked superhero.

“He didn’t almost kill me, it was the other guy. Bad guys, you know? They’re everywhere.” He huffed. “He checked up on me and offered to take me to the hospital, though. Pretty cool guy.”

“And why didn’t you say yes?”

You contemplated his question. “Stranger danger.” You shrugged. Peter laughed softly, muttering ‘fair enough’. “It also wasn’t necessary. I didn’t want to interfere with his, uh… superhero duties…”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t making sure you’re okay part of his duties?”

“I guess, but I’m fine, it’s no biggie.”

“Y/N, you could have died.”

“But look at me,” You patted your torso, then holding your arms wide open. “I didn’t. You’re making it sound much worse than it actually was.” Peter ran his hand through his hair, exhaling tiredly.

“Whatever,” He said, hesitance showing through his eyes. “I just think the guy should be more careful. His job is to protect the people, not to… hurt them.”

You scowled playfully, kicking him lightly. “Dude, fuck off, don’t talk shit about him like that. He’s Spider-Man. Give the poor guy a break.” He didn’t say anything, though, stirring your concern as you realized he seemed off since he first arrived. “Are you okay?” You inquired, frowning.

Peter glanced up at you before rubbing his face. “Yeah. It’s just been a long day.”

“Every day is a long day when it comes to you, isn’t it?” You joked lightly, nudging him a second time. “You helped me, now let me help you. What’s up?”

He moved his head from one side to another. “You’re always helping me.” He said almost as an apology, smiling sadly. You smirked back, standing up from your seat next to him to jump over the bar. You grasped an empty shot glass, checking no small debris had made its way into for the sake of Peter’s health (now, that’d be a hell of a lawsuit) before you slid it towards him.

“It’s my job as your bartender.”

He peered down at the glass and then up at you. Chuckling defeatedly, he took ahold of it, and you read it as ‘ah, the hell with it’ as you reached for the bottle of vodka. “I fucked up.” He whispered while you poured the liquid.

You screwed the cap closed, your eyebrows lifting high. “How come?”

Peter placed his head in his hands, nose crinkling. “I, um… talked to MJ?” And just like that, your mood took a fall as well, an inaudible ‘oh’ fleeting past your lips. “It’s the first time we talked in a long time.”

“...And?” You asked anxiously, folding your arms across your chest. Peter clutched onto the shot of vodka, watching the liquid dangerously reach for the edge of the glass after he slowly tipped it.

“Well, she’s trying to move on.” Surprise crossed your face. “And I was so distraught by it for the rest of the day that I really fucked up at work.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“That maybe I should move on, too.”

Your arms fell down to your sides. Maybe you really did hit your head too harshly, you thought, as your body started to feel heavy and you had to support yourself on the bar, for all this information you were hearing at once was colliding against you more vigorously than the pieces of wood which fled towards you earlier. Swallowing to bring moisture to your throat, you continued with the million-dollar question pestering you.

“What’s stopping you?”

You regretted uttering the words, something you seemed to be doing too much to suit your taste as of lately. However, Peter, although the question troubled him the same way it did you, clasped his hands together and you studied him whilst he went through every thought in his head and through every feeling, seeking an explanation he himself needed to know as well.

“I’m not sure if I want to. But I know that I have to.” He finally breathed out. You leaned forward, not satisfied, needing to hear more and more even if it’d hurt, because nothing was more vexing than this feeling.

“But you love her,” You said matter-of-factly. Silence. Your heart pounded rapidly enough you could sense it in your head. “Right?” You asked, embarrassed by the apparent desperation in your tone.

“Huh?” Peter snapped out his thoughts, blinking up at you.

“You love Mary Jane?”

He bit his lip as he went back inside the isolated room of his brain after only just sneaking his head out, evidently growing stressed. “It’s okay,” You brought him back out, sacrificing your curiosity as you gently smiled at him. “You don’t have to answer.”

Peter exhaled thankfully, downing his shot. “What’d you wanna tell me earlier, anyway?” He asked expectantly, his voice scratchy from the liquor. Oh. Yeah, right. Plans might have changed an hour ago, yet for some reason, you still wanted to come clean to Peter. However, right now, after hearing about Mary Jane, you forgot about the sixth reason and remembered why you never did in the first place after all this time.

“Do you… want to go get a drink?” You cursed your imagination for not working when it was necessary. Peter’s forehead creased with astonishment as if he never thought he’d hear that sentence again (in his defense, though, it’s exactly what you were planning to do).

“You finally wanna go and get a drink?”

“Hey, just be glad I’m feeling like it.”

It was an understatement to express you were feeling like it.

You continued searching for that sixth reason for the next weeks, even if the entire world knew that after you found it, you’d keep your lips sealed. Your friend put your friendship at risk when, during your September lunch with your boss, he couldn’t resist but telling her about your ‘secret crush’, saying he simply did it for a third opinion, but neither of you gained no new eye-opening advice for your boss dragged on about how Peter could be ‘the one’, which honestly worked in scaring you away from the topic. One day after, as you couldn’t fall asleep, you deliberated the reasons why you should forget about Peter.

One. He’s your friend. Your really good friend. You liked him being your friend. He’s funny, a nerd, and you could talk to him forever, even if it was merely absolute nonsense. Two. He’s a lot older than you. Not that eight years mattered that much, but it could. You were just entering your thirties whilst he was nearing his forties. Even if he’d made it clear kids weren’t his cup of tea, he could change his mind. You weren’t ready to settle down yet, despite most people reminding you the clock was ticking and you should start considering it.

Three. The iconic Mary Jane Watson. Peter’s ex-wife whom he loved dearly. He might have not talked about her since he mentioned the idea of moving on, but you knew it was easier said than done. If you opened up, he could shut you down and reveal he’s still in love with MJ. Or worse, if you two did wind up dating, he could decide to leave you for her. Four. Your friend helped you with the fourth one. He had yet to tell you about why he’s bruised most of the time. It admittedly awakened the cynicism in you, for it could be something which had the potential of putting you at risk, or get you killed. Plus, if he did not want to give you an explanation, it meant he didn’t trust you enough.

Five. You couldn’t lose him. You already almost did. Your absurd crush could be the last straw and get rid of him for good. If that was the case, then you’d do anything to muffle your heart singing its love songs when he crossed your mind or simply stood in front of you. You’d do it, even if it’d hurt.

Again, you couldn’t come up with a sixth reason. You established, then, that whichever reason you uncovered first, would be the final word. Your friend knew both a sixth reason for why you shouldn’t forget about Peter and why you should that, trying not to influence you any further, he kept to himself; it being clear in his head which one he hoped you’d find first.

It was another Friday night. You’d just returned home after wasting your money on some restaurant that definitely was not worth the price (goddamn New York) when your phone blared its ringtone in your pocket. Your heart clenched as you read the name and were about to answer immediately, until you stopped yourself. Counting eight seconds in your head, your thumb slid across the screen after you got to the last number and picked up the call. “Peter?” You were audibly and justifiably perplexed— why has he calling you at… you checked the time— ten P.M,? It may have not been the first one anymore, but phone calls were still a rare occurrence between you two.

“Hey! Are you busy?” His breathing was heavy, which made you wonder what he possibly could’ve been up to before he called you.

You opened your apartment’s door and blindly searched for the light switch. “No, I just got back home, actually.” You muttered, and then voiced a victorious exclamation when the room lit up in front of your eyes. “Why?”

He inhaled profoundly. “Cool. Great. Yeah.”

You guessed the barely distinguishable quiver in his voice could be defined as uneasiness as you sat down on your couch’s armrest, squinting.

“Is everything okay?”

“...Yeah. Yeah!” He repeated, firstly too quietly but now with faux confidence. “I needed to talk to you.”

Ah, hell. You had one important question and one only: when would you get a break from confrontation and those words? The last time you and Peter ‘needed to talk’ didn’t exactly go as smoothly. That in mind, your organs plummeted down into an expanding black hole in your stomach as you brought your fingers up to your lips. “I’m all ears, as always.” No, not really, but you didn’t exactly have any other choice.

“Okay, okay. Um, I, uh… what am I doing?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I wanna say sorry in advance.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

You could solely hear what sounded like wind. “You’re not gonna believe me, so just, just look outside your window.”

The black hole having devoured the contents in your system, you raised to your feet and sped to the window, not capable of painting in your head a single picture of what in the heavens the man could be planning. You unlatched the lock and glided the window upward, your head gradually peering out. Your eyes went as big and round as the full moon glowing above you when you saw it.

You stared dumbfounded, close to pinching yourself to do a reality check. It had to be a dream. A strange dream. There was just no way. No fucking way, it was absolutely impossible. It was beyond the innumerable existing possibilities that Spider-Man looked back at you, stuck against the wall. Similar to someone’s lack of subtlety, it couldn’t have been any more evident. You didn’t even need a big brain or to think, to analyze deeply as if it were a riddle in a newspaper. Because it was just right there in front of you, plainly obvious and transforming your blood into ice: the phone he held up to his face.

“Hi…” Said the masked hero. And so did Peter through the phone call.

Your phone slipped from your grasp, yet you didn’t glance down at it. You continued to gawk at the man as he flicked his wrist and saved not only your phone, but simultaneously also your bank account from having to spend hundreds of dollars on a new one. You did not mutter a thanks, let out no relieved sigh when he gave it back to you. You just stared.

“I know I’m pretty cool to look at, but can you please say something?” He laughed nervously. Ignoring him, you took a step back and retreated your head, eyes close to falling out of their sockets. The phone in your shaky hands rang a second time and you answered without needing to look at the contact.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Peter, what the fuck.”

“I’ve done this so many times but I still don’t know what to say.” He groaned to himself. You put your hand on top of your head, disbelieving.

“Get in.” You abruptly ended the call and plopped down on your couch, clutching your stomach, blinking furiously after black dots uncontrollably twirled in your vision. You heard a thump, the floor shaking slightly; however, you didn’t turn around to look at your guest, instead focusing on the wall in front of you. It wasn’t until the cushion beside you sank with the man’s weight that you blew up. “Holy shit.” You cupped your face with your hands, laughing out of pure shock. “Holy shit… holy shit!”

“Don’t freak out.”

“How am I not supposed to freak out?!”

Peter— Spider-Man shrugged, his white lenses wide. “I don’t… I don’t know.” He admitted.

You scanned his mask, the mask you’d become familiar with after seeing it so many times on TV and pictures. Somehow, however, regardless if you knew that mask and the person behind it, you couldn’t believe its authenticity. “Take off the mask.” He didn’t move or respond. “Please.” You begged.

You first saw the stubble. Then his lips. Then his crooked nose, and soon, those eyes. The whiskey eyes. Peter’s whiskey eyes. Your hands wound up on his broad shoulders, and for some reason you yourself couldn’t work out, it just dawned upon you how muscular they were. Your eyes came back to his face. Yeah, that’s Peter. That’s Peter B. Parker. Peter Parker was Spider-Man. All the revelations crashed against you quick, glass shattering in your head, everything suddenly making sense. The bruises. His constant fatigue. Everything.

“Peter… oh my God.”

“I know I-I kept this from you for a really long time, and I know it’s hard to fully digest it, but I did promise I was gonna tell you one day.” He said, the corner of his lips twitching. But you weren’t smiling— all the terrible fights you’d watched on the news throughout the years flashed in your head, going all the way back in time to when you first discovered Queens’ brand-new superhero as a seven-year-old.

You gasped, covering your mouth. “You’re telling me you’ve been at this since you were a fucking kid?”

Peter let his mask drop to the carpeted ground, his back sliding down the sofa’s backrest. “Since I was fifteen, yeah.”

“Peter…”

He grimaced at your concern. “I know it sounds sad, but it’s not… it’s not that bad.” He promised you, but you couldn’t take him seriously. You picked up your legs, sitting cross-legged and playing with your fingers as you continued to go through your racing questions.

“I used to look up to you when I was little.” You revealed quietly. Peter scoffed, grinning playfully.

“What, you don’t anymore?”

You shook your head vigorously. “I do. Shit, I still do. I never thought I’d meet my childhood hero the way I did, though.”

“Sorry I’m just a sad, old man.”

You rolled your eyes, prodding him with your elbow. “You’re so much more than that.” All humor fled his expression and he shut his eyes, throwing his head back.

“Am I? I constantly feel like I’m letting everyone down.” He huffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he spoke. There it was, of course; he couldn’t talk about Spider-Man in a non-degrading way.

“You’re fucking Spider-Man!” You exclaimed, not accepting his utter bullshit, but he was willing to accept it as he peeked one eye open to look at you.

“I know, you always say that.”

You gave up in trying to change his mind and shifted closer to him, copying his position, unable to focus on your view of the boring, mundane ceiling; so you turned your head to see Peter getting lost in the white square. “You really didn’t have to tell me. This is a big secret.”

“It’s alright. I trust you.” You were glad he kept staring up as you felt the blood rush to your face.

“You do?” You asked, your chest warm, illuminated with glee. Peter glanced at you, nodding nonchalantly.

“I mean, yeah. I really do.”

You turned your face away from him, your muscles close to tearing from how big and proudly you grinned. “Spider-Man trusts me.” You hushed to yourself.

Peter breathed out, exasperated, his eyes fluttering closed again. “Stop.” He pleaded, laughing himself nonetheless. You bit your smile back, moving to sit straight in what your friend liked to call your ‘parent worried about their kid’ sitting position.

“I guess I was right for worrying, huh?” You smiled sadly, taking in the severity of the situation. He poked his cheek with his tongue, shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to worry.” He sighed. You snorted.

“That’s dumb. You’re saying you’re always putting your life on the line? Of course I’m gonna worry.”

“Well, I worry about you, too.”

“How come?”

“If you’re close to me, then you’re putting your life on the line as well.”

You frowned, squeezing his arm to comfort him. “No, don’t say that.”

“Y/N, it’s the truth, though.” He fully sat up to turn toward you, his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s the worst thing about this. How many times have the people I care about gotten hurt? All ‘cause of me?”

You remained speechless. Moments later, he placed his hands flat against the sofa, preparing to stand up. “Y’know, I get it if you want to keep your distance from now on. I actually think it’d be a good—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You warned him, expression stern. “It’s stupid.”

“I almost got you killed that other time—”

“You didn’t almost get me fucking killed, for Christ’s sake!”

Peter’s jaw tightened and he ran his hands through his hair, that strand of hair falling back in front of his forehead. “Whatever. You can’t be so sure, anyway.”

You pressed your lips together, knowing that he was right. You nervously placed your hand on top of his. “Can I hug you?” You asked like a child, giving him a half-smile. Peter looked down at your hand before his eyes moved to you.

“Sure. Y-Yeah.”

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him hard, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt him slowly embrace your waist, scared of underestimating his strength. “I’m glad you told me. It must have been really hard.” You murmured against his chest. He chuckled humorlessly, his cheek on top of your head.

“You have no idea.”

“I’m gonna be here for you no matter what, okay? Whether it’s to vent or for some weird spider shit. I…” Love you. “You’re my friend, dude.”

After he left that night, you’d never been more conflicted about your feelings. It was a conundrum; a whole headache-inducing brain-teaser. You’d striked out the fourth reason why you should forget about Peter, the original five down to only four, but you still searched for that sixth— now fifth reason. As if it didn’t scramble your brain enough that it left you dazed and your thoughts impossible untangle, Peter unknowingly joined the game with the objective of rattling you up more.

You noticed he didn’t disappear without notice ever again, and if he did, he didn’t leave you hanging, rather he sent you a text the day after with an entire clarification. Then, you caught onto the increasing meter of his touchiness: new and unexpected hugs, holding your damn hand— although that only happened twice, but still. Your overdramatic friend didn’t even need to point it out.

One Saturday, he sat down in front of you, and before you could greet him, he surprised you. “One whiskey served over ice, please.” He smirked. You gaped at him, laughing, face astonished.

“What’s up with that?” He shrugged, grin never disappearing.

“I dunno, I guess I missed it.”

You never thought you’d continue hearing ‘one whiskey served over ice, please’ ever again. But you did.

This year, you did give him a present for Hanukkah and Christmas. A painting of one of your favorite photos of his that he showed you one day; a day you so vividly recalled, for he asked you to come with him to take pictures of an exhibition at a museum, and you accidentally broke a statue after you leaned against it in the attempt of doing an extravagant pose. To your surprise, he gave you one, too: a photo album with pictures from that day, and a message that read, ‘Merry Christmas!’, accompanied by a smiley face. In the blink of an eye, it was New Year’s Eve again, except that this time, you and Peter were talking.

You came out of the party’s bathroom, unable to tear your gaze away for the fourth time from Peter’s New Year’s Eve message, until you bumped into someone and had to force yourself to pocket your phone. You lazily swayed to the music, your vision blurring out, turning it harder to find your friend amidst the people. While your body was there, all your five senses working perfectly, feeling the heat from the enclosed space, the music vibrating in your chest, the smell of alcohol and smoke fixed in your nostrils, your mind lived in December 20th. December 20th being last Monday: a date that continued to echo in your head, the entirety of the day playing from the beginning until the pitch-black hour of midnight. It played, played, played relentlessly, exhaustingly. December 20th, it continued, a stupid date that your drunk self could not let go of.

You distinguished your friend in the crowd, comfort kissing your body and your tired legs guiding you to him, until you moved a person aside and saw the full view of his lower body grinding against a girl all over him. “Ah, fucking gross,” You groaned, pushing the unlucky same guy as you took a turn and headed for the glass door leading out to the balcony.

You firstly bumped into the door thinking it was open, but successfully slid it open and made it out into the winter weather, the city more awake than ever twenty minutes before the New Year. But you weren’t focusing on the future. No, you held onto last Monday, gripping it so tightly it hurt, hanging onto it as if you’d be nothing once it left. You stumbled towards the bench to your left, falling defeated on it. December 20th. You turned on your phone, squinting down at the screen, eyes struggling to focus through the brightness. Last week. You opened your contacts and without hesitation called a number, bringing your phone up to your ear, humming along to the beeping whilst you awaited for the person to pick up.

“Hello?” Peter said. You hung up, eyes wide. What the fuck were you doing? You didn’t answer your own question, though; you pressed the button to call again.

“...Hi?”

You ended the call a second time, growing frustrated with yourself. Having finally made up your mind, you called him one last time, jumping when he answered in what appeared a worldwide record-time. “Y/N, what the fuck—”

“Peter! You answered.”

There was a short silence. “I did.” He agreed, undeniably puzzled. You slumped against the wall, muffling your dopey laughter with the palm of your hand. You could hear… ah, wait. You could see, not hear, his face in your head with no problem: his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“How are you?” You wanted to hear about his day. What had he eaten that day? What had crossed his mind? Hopefully you’d made an appearance at least once. That’d be nice.

“I’m good, thanks for asking.” You hummed happily. “How drunk are you?”

You shook your head, failing at rubbing the haziness out of your eyes. “Just a bit tipsy, maybe.”

“How much exactly is ‘a bit tipsy’ for you?”

“How many phone calls have we had?”

A question out of the blue, you knew, and you were expecting yet again the quietness as he processed your sudden need to quiz him about such insignificant rubbish. Well… did he think it was insignificant? So many questions bouncing off your skull all at once, worsening that awful migraine you could already feel coming… or was it the booze? No, who cares. All you cared about at the moment was his response, because knowing how many fucking phone calls you’ve had wasn’t that hard unless you didn’t care.

“What?” Really? He was going to make you repeat yourself? You dug the heel of the palm into your closed eye, white fireworks blowing up in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Like, for these past two years. How many phone calls?”

“I… don’t know, maybe like three?”

Your face fell ever so slightly. “It’s six, actually.” You heard an unenthusiastic gasp.

“Wow, that’s great.”

“Do you remember the sixth one?”

“Isn’t this the sixth one?”

“This is the seventh one.”

“Okay, and why are you giving me a class about how many phone calls we’ve had?”

“Because you don’t remember the sixth one. I’m sure you don’t even remember the fifth one that well.”

He remained quiet for a moment. “It’s a blur.” Peter murmured.

“You were drunk…” You shut both eyes now, trying to dig through the fog to recall. “It was after you came to the bar…” Peter’s embarrassed stutters, similar to his inebriated ones, helped to uncover the memory further.

“I-I was drunk, yeah,” He admitted, “just like you are right now.”

“And what did you say?”

He laughed uncomfortably. “I think you remember better than I do.”

You grinned. “You’re embarrassed.”

“Of course I’m embarrassed, Y/N.”

“Well, what about the sixth time you called me?”

“I seriously can’t remember a sixth time.”

“It wasn’t a failed booty call.”

He breathed in harshly. “Ah, I’m glad, I guess.”

A frown took over your features. “You really can’t remember?” You needed him to. He had to. Or else... or else…

“I swear on my aunt.”

Your heart shattered, the sharp pieces prodding and hurting your chest. “So… so I guess you didn’t mean what you said?” You mumbled to yourself, realization sobering you more than you wanted it to.

Peter couldn’t help but begin to panic a bit at the mention of expressing something without his knowledge, or at least without his not drunk self’s knowledge. You immediately grew conscious of it for this time, the silence was different. “...What did I say?” He questioned, somewhat afraid. You didn’t speak. “Y/N? What did I say?” He pushed more urgently.

“It doesn’t matter,” You changed your mind. Calling was just another bad idea. You took your phone away from your ear for a second, jumping off from your seat, but your foot accidentally knocked over your drink. You stared down at the growing pool of alcohol staining the floor, seeping underneath your shoe. Blinking, you looked at your phone, at Peter’s name, and the numbers of the counter below it rising, marking each of your thumping heartbeat.

The sixth reason. You needed it to stop you right now; an instruction to back out, the reassurance that it was still an option and it didn’t stop being one long ago. But as your finger came down to end the call for the better, your head screamed, freezing you.

Sixth. You were in love with Peter Parker.

You dropped back down on the bench, eyes glazed over. That was it. The sixth reason. Peter. The man nearing his forties and with the loveliest messed up nose. The customer you met last year and that continued to come to bar you worked at just to talk to you, his bartender. The guy you laughed with, sang with, slept with, became too close with, fell in love with. You put the phone back up to its right place, anxiously licking your lips. “Look, I’m gonna regret this. I know I am. But that hasn’t stopped me in the past, so why should it now, right?” You chuckled, your eyes wide.

“I’m really concerned about that phone call, though.”

“Peter,” You glanced up at the sky, gulping. “I’m so glad I met you. I really am.”

“I-I’m glad I met you, too.”

You smiled momentarily. “Good. Working at the bar had become such a pain in the ass, and it still kinda is, but then you came that first time, and you called me ‘kid’ which annoyed me, but I was still hoping that maybe you’d stay, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because…” Your free hand came up to aid the other which trembled too much, grasping it tightly. “I don’t know, it was weird, I just couldn’t… I-I really wanted to get to know you. And it took some time but eventually we did talk— you said that stupid pick-up line and somehow it worked. I really need to higher my standards.”

“Hey, it was a great pick-up line.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“You gave me your number, didn’t you?”

The corner of your mouth twitched upward, and you laughed softly at yourself. “I did, I did. And I’m glad I did, even if you were just trying to get your mind off of MJ.” The truth stung as it glided out of your mouth.

Peter thought for a moment before continuing, “Maybe I just wanted a friend.” But it lacked sincerity, and you both could recognize that.

“But, Pete,” You bit your lip, looking down at the mess you’d left on the ground, the sole of your shoe now sticky. “Am I really just a friend?”

More silence. You breathed in, your chest moving up. “Be honest with me, please.” You begged, your voice hushed.

“Okay.”

Your stomach began to cramp up. “That time we hooked up,” You paused, the eerie shortage of noise on the other side of the line pushing you to go on. “Did it mean anything to you? Was it anything more than just a distraction?”

“I…”

“Or what about that other time at my place? Why did nothing happen?”

“We were too wasted. It was wrong.”

“So you do remember.”

“I do.”

You placed your hand on top of the other, beginning to pace around. “Are you lying about that phone call, too?”

“What is it with this phone call you say? What happened?” He repeated, desperate and with a hint of irritation. You approached the railing, placing your elbows on the metal.

“Just… be honest with me.”

“I am, Y/N.”

You kneaded your forehead with your knuckles, shaking your head. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s been too long, and it’s so confusing. You’re so confusing. Or maybe I’m stupid, I don’t know. There’s… there’s this thing, I know you can feel it as well, and sometimes it’s as if there’s a chance that you might feel the same way I do, but then the next minute it’s as if not, a-and it’s so confusing.”

“Feel the same way you do? What do you mean?” He clearly knew what you meant. Your eyes traveled around the city, the cold and strong breeze nearly knocking your body backward. If he knew, why couldn’t he simply outright admit it? Why, all of a sudden, was it taking him so long?

“The phone call…”

He groaned. “Y/N, just please tell me why you’re so hung up on that phone call?”

“It was last week. You said you liked me.”

You said it. He heard it. He finally heard it, and you waited for anything like an idiot, yet it never came. You checked if you had accidentally hung up the call, but when you saw that it was still going, you sighed and decided to end it for once and for all. “We can be anything. Anything, okay? I can just be your bartender, you can be my client, we can be friends, w-we can be more. If it’s not supposed to be, then just as long as you’re there, I really won’t mind. Just, please… I’m begging you…” You whispered, not capable of discerning whether your body quivered from the winter or the fear brutally gnawing on you.

“Be honest.”

Peter held his breath. “Y/N…” You waited, shoulders shaking, the stupid fucking silence clutching you by the neck as you waited. Just say it. Just say it—

“I’m still in love with MJ. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You said aloud, voice cracking. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No. Pete, no, I’m…Thank you. It’s just kinda hard to take it in, but I...” You tightened your jaw, your throat aching, swallowing back your pity. “I will. Thank you for being honest, though.”

“I really hope this doesn’t ruin things,” You could barely hear him: your brain too loud compared to his voice. You shook your head frantically, scrunching up your nose to hold back a sniffle.

“Never. I love you.” It wasn’t the way you wanted to say it. “You’re my friend. And I’m not going anywhere because you said I was stuck with you, remember?”

He laughed, a beam of light that almost mended your fractured heart. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten about that.” You smiled brightly, wiping the tears you’d tried so hard to stop from running down your cheeks. You stood straight, but it was only for a mere second, for your arms plopped back down onto the railing from the lightheadedness which threatened to bring you down.

“Okay,” You slurred, the bile rising up and burning your throat. “I’m gonna leave you. My friend will hate me if I miss the countdown…”

“Sure. Happy new year… be safe.”

You giggled, waving your hand at no one, really. “Don’t worry about me grandpa, I do this every year.” You doubted the idea that popped in your head, but voiced it anyway, “And if you need any help with MJ, I’m here. I can give you a discount at the bar for a date night!” The excitement you forced onto yourself was salt on the wound.

“I’m not sure if that’s a romantic idea, but thanks, I’ll think about it.” You both hesitated, waiting for something once again. But when you realized that it’d never arrive no matter how much time passed, you nodded quietly and unwrapped your arms from yourself, preparing to let go of that feeling you’d clutched onto for the longest time as well.

“I’ll see you around.” You finally said and hung up. You stared at your phone, grief by your side, holding your hand. Yet, to your surprise, a weak smile started to creep on you, relief slowly sewing your heart together. You told yourself that the heaviness in your heart didn’t matter, because at least you had Peter. At least he would still be there, at the bar, with his whiskey served over ice.

As you stumbled to your feet, ready to join your friend and drink away your bittersweet ache, your phone began to vibrate. Your brows twisted together and you looked down, sliding your thumb across the screen.

“Peter?”

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n #sm:itsv #spider man into the spider verse #peter b parker one shot #peter b parker imagine #one make out session #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral #sadies1.6kwc

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bananaicecreamandpuddin · 3 years

Text

Moonlight

Jae x OC

ao3 🔗: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722918

- START -

“Alex, where are you going?” I heard my friend, Jess called me from behind.

We are currently at the school stadium, hiding behind the tree that has a great view inside. I watch him as he strums his guitar while swaying his body. He looks so cute. I unconsciously giggled.

“Shut up, I am going near to them” I hissed at her as I slowly walked near to the opened door leading to the stadium.

“What are you thinking! If they find out that we’re here we’ll go to the counseling office 5th time this week! Now give me a break, please” She sounded like she’s pleading so I turned my back to face her and in horror I screamed when I saw our adviser looking like he’s about to eat us whole.

Fuck.

“So what are you doing in that stadium again looking like pimps” our counselor spatted words right after we entered the room.

She memorized that line, I think.. Because we go here almost everyday. Good thing she’s kind enough to let us go without any punishment after I spilled my own tea to her and now she has become our friend and we just go here to chat with her.

“He looks dashing today Ms” I squeal and jump off my chair to turn around happily.

“Yeah, I think so” I heard Jess retorted and I could imagine she was rolling her eyes again. I will just ignore her of course.

I saw Ms. Grace smile at me widely while her chin is placed in her palm looking radiant as she’s always been. She’s not old, old, she is just in her early thirties.

“But I heard they will have a party later at night, what are your plans?” she asked while fixing her eye glasses that have been titled since we got here.

“I don’t know, Are we allowed to go there later?” I shrugged and sat down cause my knees are starting to feel tired.

“It’s gonna be his last night here cause he consulted here that he’s going to L.A.” she simply said.

I was stunned and lost of words. Like what the hell! I was planning to confess to him but not now. It is supposed to be in his graduation day but now what the hell.

I looked at Jess and she was already looking at me sadly and I just want to cry right now. I like him like crazy and him going away is not what I thought would happen. I walked out from the room and I went straight to the girls bathroom to think of what will happen to us, eh what us?

I laughed at that thought.

“What the heck” I uttered when I saw my face. I looked like a mad woman. The mascara that I was wearing was wrecked because of the tears that keeps on falling. Good thing it’s still class hours so no one can see me looking like this.

I fixed myself and entered one of the cubicles to sit inside and contemplate about the things that will happen to me if he’s gone. He became my inspiration after that one night when he was there for me when I thought my world would end..

It was a crazy and exhausting day when I met him. My parents got into an accident and their relationship was falling apart. The police investigated the incident and it was told that before they crashed they were arguing and that thing is not new to my parents. They argue all the time.

I was not planning to go to school that night because I was so exhausted and I’m afraid that my parents will be apart and what will happen to me after that. But Jess keeps on bugging me to go because of his band, DAY6. She said I was at the school for 3 years and I did not attend any events and added that I look so pitiful because I have no social life.

Before going to the school I visited my parents in the hospital and I got so upset when I found out that they are signing the divorce paper and thought that I am now part of those children in school that will raise their hands when the teacher is asking who has a broken family. That thought made me cry my eyes out for hours on the school’s waiting shed.

While I was crying I felt a tap in my shoulder that time and as I raised my head I saw this guy in thick black frame glasses with a blackk piercing in his ears, handing me a handkerchief. I just cry even harder because I felt that someone is still here even if he’s a stranger to me, he still cares. I felt comforted.

He sat down beside me and caressed my back. He just stayed there for hours listening to my cries and when I stopped crying he talked to me like I was his friend and he gave me an advice before leaving and that will forever stay in my mind.

“It’ll take time but we’ll be okay. I promise”

He said those words while flashing a smile that melts my heart and made me feel butterflies in my stomach. And right there I said to myself that it is not the end of my life, everything we’ll be fine.

That night I got to our event with a heavy heart because I forgot to ask his name and I feel like I needed to find him. I was walking my way to Jess’ spot when I heard a familiar voice on the stage and I smiled ear to ear when I found out that I didn't need to find him. He found me that night.

“ Alex, are you here?”

Jess’ voice snapped me out from my thoughts. I replied to her and got out of the cubicle. She smiled at me like she’s planning something I would agree with.

“We’ll crash to their party” she cockily said while raising both of her eyebrows

“But…” I paused to suppress my smile.

“Look at you, you just smiled” She teased me and danced her way closer to me.

“Well, I’ve been liking him for 5 months and seeing him only on stage everytime is kinda repetitive and I want to tell him what I feel” I straightly said without a hint of hesitation.

“But what if you got rejected?” she softly said to me.

“That is why I have you and the wine that I got from mom’s last year when she was still living with us” I assured her while smiling. Of course if I get rejected I’ll be so damn sad but I’ll accept whatever it is. Loving someone also means letting them go and letting yourself accept all the odds.

Wonpil’s Place 8:00 P.M.

I walked nervously at the parking lot. It is where I’ll meet Jess. I am now wearing a white dress that is shorter than it was before because mom bought this when she was still with us. She’s now living with another country with a new guy. I smiled bitterly remembering those times.

“Excuse me”

I felt my heart jump when I heard his voice. I turned around to see him towering in front of me. I forgot he is so tall. I always saw him from afar.

“Are you talking to me?” I stuttered and placed my hand at my chest cause my heart was beating so fast!

“Uhm, yeah” He shortly said and looked at my back and there I realized that I am blocking his way to the van. I looked stupid,

“Oh. I’m sorry” I moved away and he just nodded and got inside the van to take something I think.

I was shaking and my knees felt so weak right now. I texted Jess to tell her that I need an ambulance. I might die from nervousness. She just said lmao. I think I need new friends.

“You’re in 3rd year, right?”

I almost cursed at his face when I saw him taking a peek at my phone. I immediately close it and put it in my bag.

“Yeah” I awkwardly said. I thought I was brave enough to confess to him but I guess I was just assuming. I saw him leaned on the van and stared at me. I feel my face turned red and why is it so hot in here! Good thing it’s not too bright right here. Is he going to stay here? I thought he had to take something from the van.

“So how was your parent?” I was taken aback at his question. That means that he could still remember me ugly crying. I am now so embarrassed.

I just nodded as an answer, I bite my lips to stop myself from smiling because I don’t want him to feel awkward. I raised my head and I met his gaze. His eyes are telling me something that I, myself don’t know. We had never got in a situation like this after that night. I was never this close to him and I was not expecting that he could still remember me.

“I heard you’re going to L.A.?” I tried not to sound upset but I failed when I saw him smile a little when he heard that my voice sounded so bitter.

“What are you talking about? Wonpil is the one going to L.A.” he said while hiding the smile that I could see from here.

Oh snap! What did he just say?! I stand straight and fix my dress and starts walking. I am going home now. My tears earlier are in vain! I am going to fight Ms. Grace tomorrow.

“Where are you going?” he playfully walked behind me.

“I am going home,” I said, my voice sounded irritated. I can’t believe what just happened.Maybe Ms. Grace got confused? Or what? She knows I like Jae not Wonpil!

“I thought you’ll confess to me tonight”

I stop walking and face him. I look so angry right now. Is he toying me!

“How’d you know that?” I provoke him. I put my hands in my waist. This is what I always do when I feel so frustrated.

“I was the one who told Ms. Grace to tell that to you” He shyly said while scratching the back of his head. I just raised my eyebrows and glared at him as a response.

“I’m sorry, I am really desperate to talk to you again. Because these last few months I keep on thinking about you after that night. I thought I totally lost you but I saw you again that night in the crowd and I said to myself that I want you, I want to protect and take care of you” he paused and looked at me sincerely.

I just stared at him and I saw in his face that he is sincere in what he is saying.

“But I am a coward and I thought I would get contented by just looking at you in the crowd jamming in our song, I always see you from afar and I also know you like me. I am sorry it took months for me to realize that I like you not because you’re my fan or what. I like you because of that night and I want to know more of you. Just so you know I fell in love with you under the moonlight”

Fin

#day6 #kpop fanfic au #kpop fanfic au day6 #kpop #au #ao3

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amateurmagic · 4 years

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Red [TodoDekuIida] - BNHA Secret Santa 2019

Hey there @dnd-beyond!! Surprise surprise!! I’m your secret santa for the @dailybnha Secret Santa event!! I’ve been grappling with writer’s block for the past few weeks so sorry that this meanders and rambles a bunch--I promise I tried!!

I’ve never written anything from Iida’s POV and that turned out to be harder then I thought it’d be, considering I seriously identify with his neuroticism lmao. I also kept running out of synonyms for the three, so sorry it might get a little repetitive with me constantly reusing their names in dialogue

Because I’m a perfectionist at heart, I might try and do an edit or a rewrite of this in a few weeks. If I do, I’ll tag you in the revision if you’d like.

Anywho, happy holidays!! Hope they’re wonderful and have a happy start to the new year and new decade!!

Red.

The smell of damp concrete.

And the sound of steel clattering against the street.

Iida felt his pulse rise in his throat again, fingertips trembling against the pavement, only grasping at dust. A hoarse breath exhaled from his throat, still raw, emitting a rough snarl—just like—

Metal scraped against the ground—probably more of his armor. Iida’s eyes swiveled back against the quirk’s hold to assess the damage only for his gaze to land on something else. Something unfamiliar. A tattered piece of cloth.

Red scarf.

And the scrape of metal.

Presently he became aware of the array of chipped blades that surrounded him paralyzed on the street. His limbs now shrunken to almost skeleton-like proportions, wrapped in tattered bindings. His hands now long and bony and his fingers now too skinny from his expected proportions. Rolling his tongue around in his mouth, he felt his teeth at new angles and a new lack of space as the muscle pressed against the interior of his newly-hollow cheeks.

I am…

Pressing against the ground, his teeth gritted as he felt a new bolt of pain shoot through his arm as his brain registered the feeling of cool dampness against his skin. Bile rose in the back of his throat as the iron scent of blood invaded his senses. He choked back the urge to retch.

A pair of shadows fell over his crumpled form, heroes glowing in a backdrop of light. Their shoes only mere inches from his face.

“We’ve come to apprehend you, Hero Killer.”

Their voices made his body run cold—their authoritative tone echoing against the closing space of the alley where the shadows ran long.

Straining to look up, Iida couldn’t hold back the new series of shudders that shot down his spine as he recognized the two heroes of his judgment day.

“Todoroki,” he managed to choke out. “Midoriya.”

“Silence!” Todoroki barked sharply, his eyes cold.

“We have come to apprehend you for your crime against heroes,” Midoriya continued.

What crimes?! Hero!! I am a—

“No!! I—!!” Iida felt himself begin to protest before a small voice in the back of his mind argued otherwise. The selfishness. Ignoring Manual’s orders. The countless hero codes he’d broken the course of that one night. “I am—“

“Iida,” Todoroki’s voice sneered again, his palm reaching out as his flame began to ignite. Against the darkening peripheral shadows, a thin bolt of green energy zapped against the background.

Coward.

Iida pressed his forehead against the pavement against his mind’s conviction.

Iida.

“Iida.”

“IIDA!!”

Iida’s eyes flew open again, now met with a hazy outline of a dim room lit by only one fluorescent source. He found himself drawn to the familiar blob in the shape and hue of Midoriya’s hair as the boy continued to shake him awake. Reaching out, his left hand fumbled with his glasses on his nightstand as pain shot back up his arm.

“He—here,” Midoriya stammered retrieving his glasses from the floor and passing them to him.

Behind the familiar lenses, Iida’s eyes surveyed his surroundings as his heart continued to pound.

White. Monitors. Fluorescent lighting. Hospital gowns.

The clock on the wall read 3:07 in illuminated numbers.

Staring down at himself, Iida found himself dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, his legs tangled in his sheets, and both arms wrapped in bandages and his left one in a sling—that explained the misjudgment of his reach. His hand came up to his bare throat, now clammy with sweat, to reassure himself that there was nothing resembling a scarf there. Turning to continue to stare confused at the door, he watched Todoroki exchange a few words with a nurse at the door before shutting the doorway again and padding back across the room.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked.

“Drink this.”

Iida nodded robotically, accepting the plastic cup of water from his classmate and shakily raised it to his lips to drink. The liquid was lukewarm, likely leftover from their afternoon of mindless channel flipping on the room’s single television, but the stale taste was oddly comforting. Something about it’s overly chlorinated taste helped him calm settle his heart rate again because there was no way a liquid of this pH and cleanliness could’ve come from his imagined alleyway.

“Y-yeah. I think so.”

“You were dreaming,” Todoroki explained simply, coming to sit back at the end of his bed and pour himself a cup of water. “It sounded like a bad one.”

“Did—did I wake you both up?” Iida asked, attempting to swallow back a building lump of shame. Their expressions answered with only pity. “S—sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Midoriya replied, his better nature taking over as he hobbled over to lean against the foot of Iida’s bed. “We’re just glad you’re alright.”

Iida nodded numbly, the heel of his palm coming up to swipe away the beading sweat from his brow. Flexing his fingers slowly, he forced himself to exhale a long breath.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Midoriya asked as he settled back on his own bed. “It sounded pretty intense.”

“No, I—I don’t want to bother you two more.”

“You didn’t,” Todoroki replied simply. “I get them too. The nightmares.”

“And if you wanna talk or anything, we’ll listen.”

Iida inwardly cringed at Midoriya’s offer—the same one he’d given on the train platform, when he’d decided he didn’t want to listen. When he’d decided to bench his normally rational thinking and hand the reins over to his own anger.

“The Hero Killer,” Iida felt himself mumble. “It was me. And you two were—there to apprehend me for my crimes against the Hero Code.”

“Oh Iida,” Midoriya echoed, his large eyes softening with concern. Iida watched him begin to reach out a hand but his body felt safer to reflexively flinch away and Midoriya retreated.

“You said your crimes against the hero ideal,” Todoroki remarked, still sitting with his arms crossed. “You mean the anger you were telling us about earlier?”

Iida nodded, his eyes tracing downward.

“And you said Midoriya and me were sent as your—executioners?”

“More like Heroes sent to apprehend a villain. But executioners also sounds accurate,” Iida replied bleakly.

“And the crimes. What exactly did you mean?”

Iida paused to awkwardly adjust his glasses. Why did he have such a big mouth when he was an emotional wreck? Some class rep persona.

“I like to think psychoanalysis of my dreams might a bit of overkill guys.”

“But if it helps you get to the heart of what you’re grappling with,” Midoriya pointed out and Iida was forced to yield to that logic.

“It’s just that, at the beginning of all this, I was so angry about what happened to my brother—and still am, to be honest—that I lost all reason. All I wanted to do was find Stain and hurt him—make him feel the same pain that he caused me, my brother, and my family. In my mind, that was justified. But as we all remember that Tsuragamae-san told us, that type of thinking is neither justified nor legal for quirk users—so that leaves me as neither a hero nor a law abiding citizen—two things I always thought I’d be.”

Iida paused for a breath, his fingers still clenched around his cup.

“I admit my judgment is still clouded. I wanted to hurt Stain so much—and, honestly, I think I still do—but I can’t deny that his ideals do resonate within me.”

“Yeah,” Deku breathed, flexing his crooked hand thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking the same.”

“Really?” Iida looked over surprised.

Deku nodded, his curly-haired bedhead bouncing slightly.

“With such a strong resolve as his, I guess it’d be hard not to have a long hard look at your own morals,” Todoroki mumbled thoughtfully.

“The internet’s been having quite a go at it as well,” Deku responded. “There’s been a bunch of new forums started that’re trying to break down Stain’s ideals.”

“I don’t want to say that I agree with a criminal, but when you get down to the core of what he was saying, I have to admit he had a point,” Iida remarked thoughtfully.

Todoroki nodded, his brow still crinkled thoughtfully.

“So then, why did you see me and Midoriya as those passing judgment on you?”

“Because you two are worthy of being called heroes!”

The pair blinked back startled in response.

“At least that’s what I see,” Iida continued, deflating slightly from his initial response. “Back in the alleyway where I was ready to throw all reason down the drain in favor of my own selfish convictions. Then you two stepped in and brought me back to reality. You had no stakes in that fight but you came to help anyway. You put others first and protected the weak and injured. You two were heroes. And I was just in the way.”

“You saved me, Iida,” Todoroki responded evenly. “You deflected an attack that I left myself wide open for.”

“Yeah, and you helped me bring Stain down in that last attack,” Midoriya added, “With my injuries, there was no way I would’ve been able to deal enough damage on my own.”

“I think you’re both giving me far too much credit. In the moment, I was only focused on protecting you two because I was the one who put you in danger in the first place.”

“And of course we had a stake in the fight,” Deku continued. “You’re our friend. How could we not want to help you?”

“And protection of others is what it means to be a hero, isn’t it?” Todoroki remarked. “Stepping in and helping where needed, no matter the consequences to yourself.”

Iida felt a breath catch in his throat as he felt his friend’s words wash over him.

“I want to be a great hero. A cool kind of guy who’s always ready to step in quickly and help protect people!!”

Tensei…!!

“Woah, Iida,” Midoriya stammered, his eyes growing wide again.

“Wha—?”

“You’re crying,” Todoroki observed mildly.

I am…?

Blinking, Iida became aware of the small amount of liquid beginning to bead at the corners of his eyes. A long droplet fell loose from one eye and began to snake down the broad contours of his face before falling into the deeper furrows around his mouth. Placing his glasses on his leg, he began to look for something to dry his eyes.

“S—sorry!!” the dark-haired student sputtered, sloppily rubbing a part of his wrist not swathed in bandages under his glasses, only smearing the liquid more.

“Here,” Midoriya said, hovering closer with a tissue in hand. “Let me.”

Iida bit back a reflexive reply as he felt the fabric gently dab at the corners of his eyes, removing the discomfort and potential obstruction to his field of vision. Todoroki handed him back his glasses.

“Helping where needed, right?”

Iida gave a helpless chuckle as a reply. Todoroki offered a small smile of acceptance as a response while Midoriya grinned easily.

“That’s—that’s just what my brother said when I asked him what sort of hero he wanted to be,” Iida murmured, a new breath of relief leaving his lips.

“Well, it make sense,” Todoroki replied. “That’s a good hero mantle to strive for—it seems fitting for a hero that wears a suit of white armor.”

“Yeah,Tensei was the greate—“

“I meant you,” Todoroki clarified simply.

“I—I—!! Well—arum—Thank you,” Iida mumbled awkwardly. Wrinkling his nose in resistance, he couldn’t suspend the new heat that flushed to his face at his awkward classmate’s words. His eyes squinted at his body’s involuntary response. Straightening up against his pillows, he abruptly cleared his throat.

“So, Todoroki,” Iida began again, straightening his glasses. “You said you got these nightmares as well. May I inquire what about?”

“They’re—“ Todoroki shifted in his sitting position, taking a moment to exchange a look with Midoriya that made Iida immediately regret trying to expand the conversion. “Mostly about my family—about harder times.”

“Well your father is the number two hero, Endeavor, right?” Midoriya chirped. “That’s what you said back at the Sports Festival.”

Todoroki nodded.

“What about your mother?” Midoriya asked, his tone regressing to hesitancy.

Todoroki paused a moment, inhaling and then exhaling a full breath before continuing.

“She’s doing well,” he replied, a fond expression overtaking his prior grimace.

“And you have—two siblings?” Iida inquired, his mind drawing on the sparse bits and pieces of information procured in the past few months of being classmates.

“Yeah,” Todoroki replied, his distant expression back in place. “Just two. Older brother and sister.”

“Are they heroes too?”

Todoroki shook his head, a deeper grimace forming around his mouth.

“My brother’s studying to be a doctor. And my sister’s a teacher. She also looks after the house and keeps me and my brother out of trouble.” A fond smile worked its way over his face. “She’s been kind of like a second mother to me.”

“My mother raised me herself,” Midoriya added in. “My father—hasn’t been in the picture since I was a baby. I hardly remember him.”

Iida held back an impulsive flurry of questions. He hadn’t heard Midoriya ever mention his parents—except maybe during the first battle exercise when he’d mentioned that his first hero costume had been a gift. Listening to his classmates’ stories, Iida felt a new pit of something that resembled shame begin to form in his gut. He’d always had both his parents on his side—and Tensei who always knew what to say. And he wasn’t afraid to speak up about his lineage. The days of quirk breeding and eugenics was thankfully a habit of the past, and lineage was not the biggest talking point of a pro’s statistics. But it was certainly something Iida was more grateful to have then not.

“Maybe it’s better that way,” Todoroki mumbled, barely audible.

“What?” Midoriya responded reflexively from the other side of the room.

“Nothing,” Todoroki responded shortly and Midoriya backed down.

“We should probably get some sleep,” Iida felt himself suggesting as a wide yawn stretched over his face. “It’s almost 4:00, and ample recovery time necessitates a proper sleep schedule. That consists of approximately eight full hours for still-growing citizens such as ourselves.”

“Do you ever relax?” Torodoki mumbled, half tucking back under his cot’s top sheet while leaving his left leg to rest on top of the blankets.

“Erruhhm? Todoroki?” Iida cocked an eyebrow at his classmate’s sleeping habit.

“Side effect of my quirk,” the dual-haired boy replied simply. On the over side of the room, Deku gave a small snort of amusement. Iida chortled in agreement.

“What?” Todoroki inquired, sitting up confused. The duet of laughter only crescendoed.

“I—it’s nothing, Todoroki,” Deku finally managed to reply. “It’s just that a bunch of people in class have speculated about this—and now I think Sero owes me 1200 yen.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad to have been of service?”

The pair crescendoed into another fit of laughter leaving Todoroki to look on, partially confused, but not without a smile small content smile spread over his face. Blinking peacefully, he reached for the single light on the nightstand.

“Lights out?” he asked. Iida gave a nod of confirmation and Midoriya copied across the room. Todoroki’s fingers flicked against the switch, plunging the room back into a peaceful darkness.

Iida exhaled a long breath as he shifted onto his back, his eyes drawn to the fuzzy outline of the battery light on the smoke alarm embedded in the ceiling. His head still swum with thoughts of Stain’s ideology and the brief details Todoroki had supplied upon some prompting. Maybe he should’ve have asked so much? Todoroki had a good head on his shoulders—maybe a bit socially challenged, but certainly not at risk of being forced into revealing anything unwillingly. But a class rep should never be put in a position of being accused of prying. After all, Todoroki’s home life certainly wasn’t his business to meddle in.

Perhaps an apology was in order? Midoriya seemed to at least not be startled about any of the details revealed. Perhaps Todoroki trusted him more? Not that Iida had any complaint!! No, it was good that his classmates that were forming deeper connections with each other!! Truly a victory of the modern day high school heroic education system!!

“Hey, Iida,” Midoriya’s voice whispered after a moment. “You still awake?”

“Mmmff—yeah,” Iida mumbled, pulling himself back from his mind’s tangent thoughts. “Todoroki?”

“I’m still awake,” his voice responded. Some shuffling followed his reply, and then the shared light on the nightstand between his and Midoriya’s beds flipped back on. “Can’t sleep?”

Blinking against the new light, Iida just made out the fuzzy outline of Midoriya sitting up again, his head shaking slowly.

“No,” he mumbled. “Sorry. I—I liked talking with you both. It made me feel—“

“Safe?” Iida found himself adding. Midoriya nodded to him across the room. “Yeah, me too.”

Todoroki made a noise of agreement.

“It’s like,” Midoriya began again. “I know you two are there because I haven’t heard you get up or the door open, but—my brain won’t turn off. It’s like—I need to keep reaffirming to myself that we’re still safe. S—sorry. It’s my problem. Go back to sleep.”

Iida felt a fond smile stretch over his face as a memory replayed in his mind. Back when he and Tensei shared a room and thunderstorms still scared him. The warmth. The feeling of protection. Knowing that everything was going to be alright.

“Midoriya,” Iida interrupted as Todoroki reached for the light again. “It’s fine. I think I have an idea.”

“No no!! Iida really!!” the green haired boy sputtered. “I’ll be fine!!”

“And what class rep would ever accept that translucent answer?” Iida asked, beginning to clear off the nightstand between the beds. “And I’ve been feeling the same. Criminal or not, I can’t deny that Stain’s ideology got be thinking. But the fact that my entire worldview now needs reexamining because of a criminal’s words is beyond unsettling.” Iida cast a glance over at Todoroki, who nodded in agreement before getting up to help him. “I think we’re all in the same boat here.”

“Wh—what’re you doing?” Midoriya asked, straining to get up again.

“Midoriya, stay there,” Todoroki instructed.

“Well, science has proven the human contact can help raise levels of oxytocin in the body,” Iida began to explain as he flicked on his phone’s flashlight and bent down to unplug the lamp and drag the nightstand out of the way. “And, I figure in any case, this way we’ll all be able to confirm for ourselves that we’re all still here and safe.”

“Iida, what—?” Todoroki began to ask.

“We’re making a superbed,” he explained briefly, releasing the lock on his cot’s wheels. “When I was little, I used to be terrified of thunderstorms. And Tensei and I would always pull our futons together in the middle of the room. It always made me feel safe—so I figured… Y’know?”

Iida paused, his cot now askew in the middle of the room. A feeling of unease dropped into his stomach,

“Listen—this is just something that’s worked for me in the past. I don’t know if it’ll work here too. Sorry, I should’ve asked first. If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

“No.” Todoroki’s grasp met Iida’s on the headboard of the cot. “It’s a good idea, class rep.”

Iida felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sight of Todoroki’s resolve. Midoriya stretched across his bed, gathering up any loose hanging sheets while Todoroki pulled his bed further away to make room for Iida’s to slot into the middle. Locking the wheels again, Iida looked over to Todoroki resetting the nightstand on his side of the superbed and plugging the lamp back in.

“You sure that I should get the middle?” Iida asked uncertainly, hesitating at the foot of his bed.

“Midoriya tosses in his sleep,” Todoroki remarked simply, resettling under his sheet again. On his other side, Deku made a sheepish noise of apology.

A smile settled on Iida’s face as he crawled over the foot of his cot and into the center position and handed his glasses to Todoroki. Resting his head back onto his pillow, he felt himself exhale a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding—maybe since the Sports Festival—as a new wave of security washed over him like sunlight. A click to his left signaled Todoroki turning the light off again and Iida’s eyes blinked open to a calming darkness. To his right, Midoriya’s breath was already thickening with sleep. Todoroki shifted under his covers before settling on his side for sleep.

Iida felt his brow unknit and his jaw loosen as he confirmed again that they all hadn’t died in that back alley. His friends had just helped him settle—again. And the world felt a little more okay again.

The smell of cotton sheets.

The rhythmic breathing of his two friends.

And a feeling of safety that he hadn’t felt since he was little.

Warmth.

Comfort.

Safety.

Red.

#tododekuiida #shoto todoroki #tenya iida #izuku midoriya #deku #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #my writing #bnha secret santa #sorry i tried #shit i actually post #dailybnha #secret santa

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pugszler · 5 years

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tagged by @eboysal (thank u!!!!!! <3 i love these tag games uwu)

What was your last …

Drink: orange juice Last phone call: doctor’s office i think Last text: mom was asking what flavor of doritos i wanted lol (answer: spicy nacho) Last song you listened to: “way down we go” - kaleo

Last time you cried: some time last week but boy is it a daily struggle lol

Have you ever dated someone: yeah Been cheated on: no Kissed someone and regretted it: not applicable Lost someone special: yeah Been drunk and thrown up: no List three fave colors: purple, teal, pink

In the last year have you…

Made a new friend: prob idk Fallen out of love: pass lol Laughed until you cried: yeah (it was that pokemon sun and moon episode with the washing machine rotom. funniest fucking thing i’ve seen in my life lmao)

Met someone that changed you: probably Found out who your true friends are: pass

Found out someone was talking about you: nope how would i know Kissed someone on your FB friends list: no

General:

How many people on your FB friends list do you know irl: majority Do you have any pets: a cat Do you want to change your name: nah What did you do for your last birthday: i forgot What time did you wake up today: 11am

What were you doing at midnight last night: was at work

Name something you CANNOT wait for: to have a social life lmao. also to finish my wips Last time you saw your mother: earlier this afternoon What is one thing you wish you could change about life: I WISH I WASN’T SO FUCKING DEPRESSED LMAO

What are you listening to right now: nothing Have you ever talked to a person with the name Tom: my uncle What’s getting on your nerves: my job. also myself.

Most visited website: tumblr ofc

Nickname: don’t have one

Relationship status: single Zodiac sign: virgo Pronouns: she/her

Fave tv shows: bnha

Hair color: brown Long or short: short Height: 5′3″ Do you have a crush on someone: no but i want one

What do you like about yourself: lmao pass Tattoos: not interested

Righty or Lefty: right First surgery: ... uh does a root canal count? First piercing: ears First best friend: think there was a girl named emily i knew back when i lived in wisconsin... otherwise it was zach in elementary (who later became my bully lmao)

First sport you joined: i took a gymnastics class when i was a toddler First pair of trainers: why is this question here lmao

Right now

Eating: nothing but i had a hot pocket a little while ago

Drinking: nothing Listening to: nothing Want kids: NO Career: i’m still doing inventory stuff. i want a desk job next...

Which is better:

Lips or eyes: eyes Hugs or kissed: hugs prob Shorter or taller: doesn’t matter Romantic or spontaneous: oh i remember these questions yawn Nice stomach or nice arms: i’m sleepy Sensitive or loud: my feet kinda hurt Hook up or relationship: man i wish anyone was interested in me Troublemaker or hesitant: zzzzz

Have you ever:

Kissed a stranger: no Drank hard liquor: no Lost glasses/contacts: yknow i don’t actually think i have Sex on a first date: no Broke someone’s heart: god i hope not Had your own heart broken: yea Been arrested: no Turned someone down: weird boys back in elementary/middle school Cried when someone died: yeah Fallen for a friend: sigh

Do you believe in:

Yourself: no lol Miracles: no Love at first sight: shrug Santa Claus: no Kiss on the first date: sure Angels: no

#tag game #shut up cathy #bring back tag games 2k19

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possibilistfanfiction · 6 years

Note

Sutton D Brady is an actual angel on this earth thats all i really have if you want to do something with that

[ok honestly this is like five times sutton accidentally is a third wheel on a date w kat & adena + one time she isn’t (she hangs out w kat as her best friend pls don’t be weird pls do not) lmao poor sutton but don’t worry its cute]

you don’t really realize that kat had invited you as a third wheel on this date until it’s too late. you had had a really slow day at the office and kat had made up some excuse for both of you to have to leave, which you don’t think oliver or jacqueline had really bought but it’s a beautiful day and you had been a little down that morning about richard—it comes and goes, who knows why you were sad today—anyway.

kat takes you out for a late lunch somewhere in north bedstuy that serves southern comfort food and when you ask her how she knew about it she just shrugged, smiled, got you a bottle of rosé to share.

you’re definitely a little day drunk and feeling a lot better, because kat had made you laugh a lot with distracting dumb stories and reports from this focus group she’d had to run, and you walk to the C afterward so you can go to the piers and get ice cream, even though you’re so. full.

you’re almost at ample when you see who you’re 99% sure is adena from a distance, and kat grins, this huge smile lighting up her face.

it definitely is adena, who is in a pretty hijab and these killer flowy dark green pants, and kat gives her a quick kiss.

‘i was nearby at my friend’s office in dumbo,’ she explains. ‘i hope it’s okay?’

she genuinely says it like a question, like she would leave if you said no, and kat scoffs but adena looks to you.

‘it’s definitely okay,’ you say, and it is, because you want to spend more time with your best friend’s girlfriend; from what you can tell, kat is definitely in it for the long haul. ‘i’m glad we get to hang out.’

‘me too,’ adena says, and asks about your day. kat jumps in so you don’t have to tell her how you’re ditching work because you were a little upset and you could hug her for it, but she’s holding adena’s hand and they walk beside you, both paying complete attention to you, but their hands are linked and they’re quite literally the most beautiful couple you’ve ever seen, you’re pretty sure. it makes you ache a little more but adena buys you all ice cream and you sit at pier three in the gardens and the city is beautiful behind you; it’s quiet.

kat licks melting ice cream off of adena’s hand and it makes adena roll her eyes and it makes you laugh and you definitely realize this part of your day was absolutely a date.

but then, after you’ve finished your ice cream, adena leaves to go do some editing on a shoot she’d finished last week; she kisses kat goodbye and gives you a tight, heartfelt hug.

‘good to see you, sutton,’ she says.

‘yeah,’ you say, ‘you too.’

kat is a little stunned watching adena walk away, you think, from her wide eyes and dumb ass little smile.

‘i’m definitely falling in love,’ she says.

you laugh at your friend and she helps you up and then shoves you a little, cheeks turning pink.

‘you’re absolutely already in love,’ you tell her, wrap your arm around her shoulders as you walk toward high street.

‘yeah, i guess.’

‘you are.’ you bump her hip and she smiles. ‘it’s great though, kat.’

she lets out a deep breath and goes to hold your hand, but you swat it away. ‘i don’t know where that thing has been.’

‘i’ve washed my hands today, sutton.’

‘ah, so you have had sex.’

kat lifts a brow and strides off in front of you. ‘i like to start my mornings with cardio, what can i say?’

‘you’re terrible,’ you grumble, but it’s fond and you and kat fall asleep on your couch once you get home, trying to get through the staircase in like your fifth attempt.

you wake up to jane taking a series of pictures of the two of you and you groan and kat just burrows into the pillows.

‘she’s tired,’ you explain, ‘from her sex fest this morning.’

‘whatever,’ she says. ‘be jealous all you want.’

it’s very clearly a date to you this time about ten minutes in, even though this is the most ridiculous date ever.

all you had wanted to do was get bread, milk, eggs, and ginger beer from trader joe’s and you were already near downtown brooklyn anyway, because jane had some weird work drinks thing at kimoto and you could both just take the train back from hoyt. you had been at target with kat because it’s like the most pleasant dissociative episode ever, each time you’re there, and somehow adena finds the two of your in the middle of the home decor section, kisses kat hello and then manages to find the ugliest mirror you have ever seen in your life, which had made you both laugh.

you’d met jane in the grocery store and of course the line is long as shit, and kat and adena wander off to find halal chicken nuggets, apparently, and you and jane watch them with a synchronized sigh as the white dude with dreads in front of you fumbles with his kombucha.

‘did they just turn a grocery run into a date?’ you ask.

‘kat has been on a melodrama loop lately. you know, hard feelings.’

‘i honestly thought that was because of liability.’

jane waits a beat and then lets out a big laugh, a good laugh. ‘incredible,’ she says. ‘what a drag.’

you shrug. ‘what can i say? the library is open.’

kat and adena come back and kat says, ‘paris is burning,’ dramatically and with absolutely zero context.

they’re holding hands and have found the halal nuggets in dramatic fashion because the box adena’s holding is gigantic.

‘we were reading you,’ jane says.

kat rolls her eyes. ‘about what?’ she asks. ‘i’m perfect.’

‘chaotic neutral big dick energy,’ you say.

kat grins and adena laughs.

‘that’s not a read,’ kat says, and you and jane have an unspoken agreement, you’re sure, to never tell kat about how you know she’s really terrified she’s going to fuck everything up with adena because you can see what sh’e listening to on spotify—blond and ctrl and melodrama, yikes—so you let her have it.

‘here, ms big dick energy,’ jane says, handing over the ginger beer which is admittedly a little heavy. ‘hold this.’

kat sighs and hefts it up like she’s doing a bicep curl only her arm shakes a little and it’s adena who laughs first.

you and jane grin and start laughing too and it’s not the worst date ever, you guess.

you’d definitely made plans to watch nanette with kat at 7 pm thursday night, because you’d seen it and you knew sacrificing your own tears a second time would be vital because kat’s really been through a lot of ‘identity politics,’ as jane calls them, the past few months, even though she acts like it doesn’t affect her very much.

you’re sure these were your plans because she’d put them into your phone herself, so you’re a little confused as to why she’s not answering her door and you’re holding a bottle of wine and a bag of truffle butter popcorn you’d stollen from a shoot earlier and it’s hot as shit in her hallway.

when you try the door, though, it’s unlocked, thank god, even though you’re a little worried, so you go in.

you are, sadly but also hilariously, not surprised when you see kat completely naked in bed, her computer propped up next to her kind of clumsily, and her head shoots up in your direction and says, ‘shit, adena, i’m sorry, i gotta go,’ and slams her computer shut.

you start to laugh and she tries to wipe her hand on her sheets without you noticing and scrambles around to find a pair of underwear.

‘i’ve seen you naked, like, a thousand times,’ you say, getting out wine glasses, because you’d definitely just walked in on your best friend having facetime sex with her girlfriend but honestly you’re surprised it’s taken you this long at this point. ‘don’t hurry on my account.’

kat throws on a t-shirt and walks over to you, a little smirk on her face. ‘i lost track of time.’

‘you sure did.’

she laughs because you’re smiling and goes to grab a handful of popcorn.

‘are you kidding me?’

‘i’m hungry.’

‘wash your hands, kat.’

‘it was the other hand, i swear to god.’

you lift a brow and she grumbles but dutifully scrubs at her hands while keeping eye contact with you. the back of her hair is coming out of its bun and her cheeks are flushed and she dries her hands with a flourish. ‘happy now?’

‘not as happy as you.’

kat has the courtesy to blush even more. ‘adena’s been gone for two weeks shooting in indonesia—’

‘—oh, we know—’

‘—so i just, you know, missed her.’

‘gay.’

kat huffs. ‘i’m bi.’ she thinks to herself. ‘queer?’

you kiss her cheek, start to pour the wine. ‘i can’t believe i crashed a date when your girlfriend isn’t even in the country.’

kat takes the glass of wine you hand her and lifts it in a toast. ‘i’m sorry.’

you shrug. ‘don’t be. i’m glad you’re happy.’

you clink glasses. ‘me too.’

you sit down on her couch and she grabs popcorn and this time you don’t mind.

‘this is going to ruin your mood for sure, though.’

kat sighs. ‘so i’ve heard.’

you’re both crying by the end and kat burrows into your side, sniffling.

‘stay here tonight?’

‘buy me coffee in the morning,’ you say, even though you have a full outfit for tomorrow and all of your makeup in your bag anyway, because you know her.

‘breakfast too, even that disgusting sandwich with sausage if you want.’

‘deal.’

kat smiles a little and you go to get in her bed wearily before you remember exactly what activity she was doing earlier.

‘change the sheets first, kat.’

‘i’m so tired,’ she pouts.

you raise your brows.

‘so sad, sutton.’

you stand your ground and she rolls her eyes and stomps around but you help her change the sheets.

‘i love you,’ she says, once you’re both situated.

‘i love you too, kat.’

‘you’ve been, just, really important to me in all this, really good, you know that?’

‘yeah,’ you say. ‘i’m the best.’

you wake up to pee in the middle of the night and it’s like 2 am but kat is texting adena, you know, because she’s turned over in bed and there’s a little light radiating from her phone. you don’t say anything because you understand mostly but maybe a little you don’t, and she puts away her phone.

‘time difference,’ she says, and you know it’s about comfort and love but you let her have it.

‘tragic.’

‘she’ll be home in a few days.’

‘great,’ you say, ‘because i really don’t think facetime is fully doing it for you. you’ve been a tightly wound pain in the ass to all of your interns lately.’

you’re both a little delirious so you end up laughing and it’s warm and safe and you fall back asleep.

you’re walking back to kat’s apartment from chelsea, where you’d been to see adena’s latest gallery show—which was really stunning and featured your best friend, a lot, so you cannot wait to tease her later—and they’re holding hands and they keep kissing, light little kisses and it’s cute and really sweet and you love them a lot.

jane is talking about the paintings that were at the show too and it’s a beautiful night, a little chilly after a rainstorm, and it’s late, but there’s really no place you’d rather be.

it’s awesome and peaceful and sort of perfect until some random dude walks past the four of you, takes one look at kat and adena, and says a word that makes adena grit her teeth and jane stiffen and you’re absolutely positive kat is going to get into a fight when she turns around immediately.

‘what the fuck,’ she says, and you’ve seen kat angry and you’ve seen kat hurt and you’ve seen kat genuinely confused and this is all of those things at once, which is. not great.

adena tugs on her hand. ‘kat,’ she says, and from the immediate weariness in her voice you can tell this is certainly not the first time someone has called her a slur. it makes your heart ache and jane is so tiny but she’s already stepping between kat and the dude, and you do too.

he doesn’t seem fazed at all and says it again and you swear to god kat is about to lose her fucking mind and you feel furious too, but it’s not safe for any of you to get into an actual physical fight with this dude and you’re also really fucking terrified.

‘kat,’ you say, tug on her shoulder hard. her jaw clenches and she swallows and then says, ‘fuck you,’ at the dude and to your relief turns around.

adena takes her hand again but it’s not the same gentleness they’d had just a few seconds ago, because mostly she just pulls kat down the street quickly.

jane is absolutely your favorite person in the world because she stands her ground until you can tell they’re far enough down the block.

‘i’m going to call the police,’ jane says, her phone already on 911, all she has to do is press call.

the guy narrows his eyes, looks at her brightly lit phone, and turns around, starts to walk away quickly.

‘oh my god,’ she says, puts her phone in her pocket and you hold her hand immediately because it is shaking.

you both take a few deep breaths and walk toward where kat and adena had gone, and you’re really not surprised when you see kat pacing back and forth around the next street corner, holding her phone in a white knuckled grip, while adena just stands calmly, quiet.

she sees the two of you and launches into a hug and she’s crying and shaking and it makes you really fucking sad and really fucking angry that her life is going to have shit like this in it.

none of you says anything and you go back to her apartment and open a really good bottle of whiskey her parents had gotten her for her birthday and you and jane busy yourself making sandwiches for everyone while kat and adena talk quietly in the corner.

you glance over and kat brushes some of adena’s hair behind her ear and adena rubs her hand under kat’s eye, wiping some tears. kat takes a deep breath and kisses adena deeply and you and jane wait for, like, a full minute before loudly announcing that you’re done with the sandwiches and would definitely like to do a shot.

it gets a laugh out of kat and adena smiles in thanks at the two of you and you get drunk watching every single hayley kiyoko music video on youtube.

the next day you and jane get to work before kat and the little rainbow flag fits perfectly in her mason jar of styluses—weirdo, but you let her have it—on her desk.

you meet her in the lobby thirty minutes later and buy her coffee and you’d left late last night sufficiently drunk so you’re all hungover but you hug her tight and you and jane watch when she goes to her desk.

she smiles, soft and tender and big, and looks over to the two of you.

jane winks and you do finger guns and you hear kat laughing as you walk toward the fashion department.

you don’t realize that kat took you to a queer night at union pool until you’re there, but you honestly don’t mind at all because not one person has touched your ass or just assumed you wanted another drink.

kat and adena hang out with you long enough that you and kat finish two drinks and then kat’s eyes start drifting down to adena’s boobs and adena’s hand snakes around kat’s back and you laugh and tell them to go dance, that you’ll be fine.

and you definitely are totally fine, because someone super cute—reggie, you find out—comes up and sits next to you, buys you another drink after they’ve asked if you want one.

you’re verging on drunk but suddenly you remember some fucking soliloquy kat had gone on the other day after a queer panel jacqueline had had her speak on while you were all doing face masks before grey’s anatomy and so you ask, ‘hey, what are your pronouns?’

reggie smiles and says, ‘they/them,’ and you nod.

‘cool,’ you say. ‘she/her.’

distantly you think kat would be really proud but reggie smiles at you and asks if you want to dance and you try to find kat and adena for a second but you have no idea where they went off to, but you definitely do want to dance.

it’s fun and reggie is handsome and has braids that might be even better than kat’s—you’d never tell her because she wouldn’t talk to you for, like, a day probably—and tomboy by princess nokia comes on and it’s fun and you’re laughing and you’re sure your best friend is living her best fucking life because you have heard this song more times in the past two weeks from her spotify than you have in years.

reggie grins and it doesn’t feel odd at all to kiss them, because you’re dancing and it’s sexy and you’re having fun. you dance some more and go to the bar to get some water, eventually, and kat finds you there, her lipstick definitely more adena’s shade now than it was before they went off somewhere and adena is trying to fix her hijab.

they’re ridiculous and in love and kat grins at you while she closes your tab and you’re really fucking tired but you get reggie’s number before you head out with your friends.

‘who was that?’ adena asks, squished between the two of you in the back of a lyft but she’s resting her head on kat’s shoulder and they both look far too sated for having just danced.

‘reggie,’ you say. kat winks. ‘they’re cute.’

kat reaches across adena to give you a high five and then definitely performs a very clumsy and incredibly obvious boob graze on her girlfriend and they make eyes at each other and you clear your throat for posterity.

you don’t mind at all, though, really, not even a little bit.

shit with your mom has been fucked up and exhausting and dating is fun but kind of lonely, really, and it’s so nice outside but jane is knee deep in an article about neighborhood segregation and public school districts and you’re just.

a little achy.

kat texts you and asks if you want to go to prospect park for a picnic and you almost say no, because you fucking love adena but they’re so in love and so happy sometimes they just make your loneliness worse, even though that’s a shitty thing to think—they do.

but you say yes because you definitely need to not watch dark tourist all day and you get ready and are remarkably there on time even with delays on the Q.

you’re surprised when kat is waiting for you by herself, lounging on a bench near the market with sunglasses and an actual, honest to good book.

‘hey,’ you say, and she stands to give you a hug. ‘where’s your girlfriend.’

‘i don’t do everything with her,’ kat says. ‘but she’s at her office today. she got nominated for some big award and instead of wanting to celebrate she just went right back to work.’

‘ah, so that’s why you get along so well,’ you say, take off in the direction of your favorite bread stall. ‘workaholics.’

kat scoffs and pushes you but she doesn’t bother to argue.

‘so i’m second choice, then.’

you say it as a light joke and you don’t think that at all but you’re in A Mood and it comes out more serious than you intended.

‘what?’ kat says, grabs your arm and turns to face you, flicks her sunglasses up. ‘you’re never my second choice, sutton. i love you so fucking much.’

you sniffle and you hate that you’re going to cry all of a sudden and kat frowns and pulls you into a hug.

‘i’m sorry if i’ve ever made you feel otherwise.’

you shake your head into her shoulder and your, ‘you don’t, you haven’t,’ comes out a little muffled but you feel her nod so you know she heard.

‘okay.’

you sigh and back up and wipe under your eyes. kat still looks concerned so you shake your head. ‘just—stuff with babs, dating sucks, all of that.’

‘yeah.’ she heads toward the bread stall too, even though you hadn’t said anything.

‘do you want to talk about it?’ she picks out an olive oil and rosemary loaf and you really fucking love her.

‘not right now,’ you say.

she nods. ‘well, i brought champagne.’

‘incredible.’

you buy cheese and fruit and walk to a place near the lake, lay out the blanket kat had brought, one she’d gotten in peru, which makes you grin because you know she’d thought of you and jane and your picnics when she’d found it.

she talks about her latest project at work and you lowkey want to inform her that she’s an influencer now but she’s a little arrogant enough already honestly so you just let her have this one. you make little sandwiches and you make her put sunscreen on even when she whines about it because the UV index is 10 today and jane would kill you both if you got sunburned.

you lay down and talk about music and the actual paper copy of a book she was reading and how she might want a tattoo and you pet like six dogs and eventually you sit up and grin.

‘this is wild, but we’re already on the Q so do you want to go to coney island?’

she laughs and shrugs. ‘why the hell not?’

you gather your stuff and she leans against you on the train, sundrunk and exhausted, and you’re both sweaty and not at all glamorous and this is exactly what you needed.

she patiently stands in line with you at nathan’s and only moderately complains about all the tourists, and you’re both in denim shorts but she stands with you in the ocean eating her hot dog and laughs when you take a boomerang and you walk back to the train eventually, so tired and much, much lighter than you’d felt this morning.

you ride together and are quiet, and it’s easy and you’re both way more grown up now, but you’ve been best friends for five years and you think you’re really fucking lucky.

she gets ready to get off at canal, before you at 14th, and gives you a weirdly positioned hug—you’re still sitting and she’s stood up—and it makes you both laugh.

‘that was the best day,’ she says. ‘thanks.’

‘have fun celebrating tonight.’

‘are you kidding? i’m so tired i’m just going to watch dark tourist and go to sleep.’

you laugh. ‘love me some good problematic binge watching.’

kat grins. ‘always.’

the train comes to a stop and she waves. ‘love you, sutton.’

‘love you too, kat.’

#kadena fic #possibilist #SUTTON BRADY #we love her so much what a Good Kid!!!!!!#olivia !!!!#got some bi sutton vibes in there for u you are welcome #mercury is in retrograde in 3 days but kat is always in mercury retrograde im p sure

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