i watched off campus this weekend and all i can think about is
reader being a nerdy little weird girl (affectionate) and being too socially anxious to interact with new people around uni but the landlord is too lazy to fix the sink so you have to ask john logan to fix it.
you share a class and you’ve noticed him sometimes, of coarse you have, he’s one of the star athletes of the university, but you’re pretty sure he’s never even looked your way, let alone you speaking to each other.
before contacting him you have to take a couple deep breaths because not only is this a new person but it’s also someone attractive and popular. so naturally you expect him to be an asshole but you dm him anyway because the fucking sink has been spraying water sideways for weeks, your roommates are not doing anything about it and the landlord is really starting to piss you off. fine, you’ll pay for the repair i guess.
you get a reply in about an hour and it surprises you how nice he seems as you’re arranging the best time for him to come over and fix it. well, obviously he’s nice you’re gonna pay him, is what your inner monologue says but you try to ignore it.
once the day comes you kinda feel like running away rather than opening the door to your apartment. it’s like there’s a rock in your stomach. what do normal people talk to strangers about? the weather?
you shake off the anxiety and finally open the door to find him immediately smiling at you “hey”. you get a little stunned by his smile and linger a second too long without saying anything.
“oh, uh, hey, hi, come in, sorry.” very smooth of you. you sound like you’ve never talked to a person in your life.
“you said your sink was broken, right?” he asks.
“yeah… the… sink is over in the bathroom this way. it’s been like squirting… that sounded bad. it’s like running sideways? i think it’s the aerator that’s broken.”
he lets air out of his nose trying not to laugh at your nervous rambling. not because he’s making fun of you but because he finds it endearing, but you don’t know that so you get a bit embarrassed, your skin getting a bit warm.
“wait, you know what a faucet aerator is?” he asks.
“yeah… i would fix it myself but i don’t really have any tools here.” he keeps looking at you so you feel the need to elaborate. “my dad always fixes things around the house, no money for licensed professionals you know, so growing up i picked up some stuff.”
he smiles at you again. “ah, at least being poor gave us skills.”
you let out a laugh. “yeah.”
but el you don’t really need tools to fix an aerator you say. just go with it megan i scream back and walk away.
okay so a reader that has daredevil’s super senses but she’s a mutant so no blinding accident. she’s going to nyu or esu or something and when she first meets peter, she feels his presence before she even sees him.
it’s a college party, not too rowdy, chill parties are more her speed, less overstimulating. she’s talking to a couple friends when suddenly there’s this overwhelming presence in the room of the college apartment. she can hear the sheer mass of his muscles constricting as he moves into the space, making all the little hairs on her body stand up. it’s like there’s a pressure in the room and it feels like it’s not nearly big enough for this being to fit into.
when she turns and pinpoints exactly who this energy is coming from, she sees this mopey guy with sad eyes and gets even more on guard. who the fuck does this guy think he is? how did he manage to overwhelm her in a matter of seconds and at the same time he looks so… normal. (she’s mad at him in a kind of a ‘the lights are a little too bright and there’s too many sounds, so i’m gonna be a bitch about it’ way)
even though she likes to keep to herself and is bad at starting conversations with strangers she just has to know what’s the deal with this guy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
yes this thought came to me after the trailer and because i’ve been watching daredevil.
hey, guys, it’ll be really fucking nice of you if you tag your shit correctly, tnx
i’m talking about actually putting a smut tag on your smut, keeping your oc in the oc tag not the reader one, keeping your face and body descriptions in the correct tags (that’s also including fem!reader), etc etc
i feel like we say this every couple of months and still some people pretend like they never see those posts
(also update from the comments: don’t flood the x reader tags with memes, don’t tag characters which aren’t in your fic and most importantly always put your trigger warnings in your tags)
im about to start giving people ratings the way health inspectors do at restaurants but for tags
pairing: peter parker x florist!black cat’s sister!reader (no use of y/n)
word count: 5.4k
A/N: i can't think of anything in here that needs a content warning but tell me if i'm wrong. maybe a little suggestive but considering the smut i've seen on here I think you'll be fine lol. it's just pure fluff. it's set after nwh and peter is in college/uni.
also tell me if there's anything that describes the mc's appearance bc i like my girls to have personality but no face. also also they are half sisters.
i got the idea for this randomly on halloween and have been slowly writing it since (and procrastinating a lot)
this was very roughly edited so i might edit it more in the future.
dividers: @uzmacchiato
my other peter fic
You feel the chill on your skin. The early spring breeze is not yet warm enough for you to be standing on the roof of your building so late at night. Pulling your sweater closer to yourself as the air lightly moves around you again, you hear your sister break the short silence that had settled between you.
“You’re not changing your mind, are you?” Her voice carries a note of disappointment. “I could really use you out there.”
“I have a job, but thanks.” You’re a little tired of her asking you to go back to being her partner in crime– literally.
“How much does the shop pay you again?” She’s goading you, getting on your nerves was one of her favourite sister duties.
“Less than stealing but I can finally sleep at night.” There’s a bite to your words, but you can’t help the amusement in them as well.
“In other words,… way less.” She’s examining her nails as she says this.
“That’s all you got from that?”
She looks at the time, ignoring you. “I gotta go. Love you, baby sis.” She jumps off the roof before she can hear you reply with an annoyed ‘Stop calling me that.’ but she’s heard it before anyway.
You let out a sigh and stay in place for a while longer, breathing in the fresh night air, when a shadow drops on the railing to your right. Adrenaline immediately spikes your heartbeat, fear gripping your chest but as you turn your head and a flash of red catches your eye, you see… Spider-Man?
“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice sounds different than you imagined it. Not in a bad way, though. It somehow sounds better. Besides the obviously fake heavy New York accent.
“I’m not scared.” Most people would call you hard to read, and that doesn’t exclude even your own sister at times. You rarely show emotion on your face, unless you’re at work and trying to seem polite, but right now is no exception to the rule. That’s the reason his next sentence catches you so off guard.
“Your heart’s racing.” He says it so innocently, like hearing another person’s heartbeat is normal, but it makes you feel exposed as if you’re entering uncharted waters.
“That feels like some of the worst invasion of privacy ever.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, as if the act would somehow block him from hearing the beat emitting from it. What shocks you further is that it’s not as uncomfortable as it usually feels. But you guess that’s just because you’ve secretly had a tiny crush on Spider-Man probably since he first started appearing back when you were in high school. You just never thought you’d meet him or even wanted to meet him once you became a criminal.
“Sorry. I just saw you out here and I wanted to talk.”
You narrow your eyes at him, frowning in suspicion.
“Okay, maybe I saw Black Cat talking to you…” He trails off.
“Following your not-so-ex is really weird, dude.”
“She’s not my ex.” He protests. They slept together once and it wasn’t great, from what little your sister told you. Not that you wanted to know more. You didn’t even want to know any of that in the first place. Your sister’s sex life is the last thing you want to know about her.
“That’s why I didn’t exactly say ex and I love that that’s the part you wanted to correct.” There’s a small, amused smirk on your face.
“I followed her because I need her to tell me where to find this guy I’m looking for but she’s avoiding me and I lost her, so I came back and you were still here so... Can I ask you something?”
“You can but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” You sound more teasing than you mean to. You wanted to put more of a bite into it.
“Where can I find her?” He asks anyway.
“You can’t and I’m not helping you with that. If she’s avoiding you then maybe you should give up.”
“I would but I really need to find that guy, like yesterday.” He sounds a bit desperate, so you take pity on him.
You let out a breath. “Who are you looking for?”
“Works for Fisk, on the lower ranks, they call him Rat.”
“Unfortunate nickname… If he’s Fisk’s then he probably hangs at that bar on 5th and 32nd.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. That was easier than I thought.” So, you know more than he thought you did.
“I’m only telling you so you leave her alone, because she clearly wants you to.”
Are you one of Cat’s work friends? You have to be, right? You seem too well informed not to be. “How do you know her?”
“She’s my sister.”
“Huh, you don’t really look that alike.”
“That’s okay. None taken.” You’re not actually offended but he’s kind of fun to mess with a little.
“No, I don’t mean like that-“ His voice carries an unmistakable hint of nervousness now, fake accent slipping.
“We’re half-sisters.” You explain further. Your brain is telling you to stop sharing things with this guy who’s essentially a stranger to you, but your mouth is finding it hard for some reason, which is new to you. You don’t usually offer information about yourself that openly.
“Do you work together?”
“I think I’ve told you enough.” You turn, walking towards the door. “Bye, Spidey.” Thankfully, you have a share limit with him too. You were getting a little worried about how much you were spilling.
The shop is having a slow day when you hear the little bell above the door signal a customer has walked in. Working in a flower shop all day numbs you to the smell of flowers but when you look up to greet the person, you suddenly are able to smell the sweet scent of roses and lavender again as you meet eyes with a very attractive guy. His brown curls are flowing down his forehead almost meeting his warm chocolate eyes. You’ve always been a sucker for a brown-eyed man.
The second Peter’s eyes land on you behind the counter his breath gets caught in his throat. He just wanted to buy flowers for May for when he visits her grave later today. He didn’t know you worked here of all places. Now he feels like a creep for no reason.
“Hi. How can I help you today?” You say politely and break him out of his thoughts. It’s fine. She doesn’t know who I am. He thinks and it’s not as reassuring as it should be. He actually starts feeling a bit bad that you don’t know who he is. Why does he feel like that?
“I need, uh, flowers.” Smooth, Peter.
“Well, you’re in the right place then.” You’re smiling. You’re teasing him, Peter realizes, but he doesn’t mind. He kind of deserved it anyway.
“Yeah, I was hoping I got it right, the flowers outside tipped me off.” You let out a quiet laugh. He made you laugh. Fuck, did his hearts just skip a beat? He couldn’t get so much as a smile out of you as Spidey that night a couple weeks ago.
“Are you looking for a bouquet or a potted plant?” You ask with that polite customer service voice.
“Uhm, bouquet.”
“You can look around at the flowers and tell me which ones you like. I’ll get them sorted for you.” You gesture to the numerous colorful vases across the small shop.
“I actually saw this one outside… white roses and these small blue flowers.” He rubs the back of his head as he speaks. A nervous habit, you assume.
“Forget-me-not.” You say.
“What?”
“The blue flower. Its name is forget-me-not.”
“Kind of sad that I forgot it.” He rubs the back of his neck now.
“You’d be surprised how many people do. Let me get it for you and I’ll ring you up.”
When you step back behind the counter, bouquet in hand, you start to wrap it neatly before you start speaking again. “Do you want to know what it means?”
“What do you mean?”
“I meant if you wanted to know what the flowers symbolize. You might change your mind if it doesn’t fit the occasion.”
“Uh, yeah, why not? What does it mean?” You’re concentrating on wrapping the flowers on the counter, so you don’t notice the small smile on Peter’s face as he looks at you.
“Well, my boss, the woman that owns this shop, she’s an older lady, and a first-gen Korean immigrant. So, we go by the Korean birth flower system and the traditional language of flowers. White roses mean respect and purity and forget-me-nots are remembrance, love, don’t forget me.”
“Remembrance, huh?”
You pause in your wrapping, noticing a hint of something you can’t place in his voice and look back up at him. “Do you want to choose another one? If it’s for a partner, it might not be the best symbolism. Some people change them out.”
“No, I… uh, kinda accidentally chose the perfect one, I guess.”
You don’t know who he’s lost, and you would never ask a stranger that, but that’s the only way you interpret the look on his face. Loss. “Oh. I’m… I’m sorry.” You go back to wrapping the flowers, even more carefully now.
“So… you know the meanings of all the flowers?” He changes the topic as fast as possible.
“Not all. Just the most popular ones… and my favourite.” You finish wrapping, hand him his bouquet and move over to the cash register.
“What’s your favourite?” He asks with no particular motive at all.
“Lavender. Smells really good.” You say, not looking up.
“What does it mean?”
“Expectation, hope, devotion.” You finally look up at him “That’ll be $20.”
He pays, thanks you and starts walking out. At the door he hesitates. “I’ll see you around.”
You give him a small smile, a genuine one this time. “See you.”
Peter is perched on a roof mid-patrol as he suddenly feels something– no, someone– barreling into him which sends him rolling to the floor. He groans in pain as he props himself up on his elbows and looks up meeting the furious gaze of the black clad, cat themed woman standing above him. “What the hell, Felicia?” He grumbles.
“I’ll show you what the hell?” She cracks her knuckles, both hands. “My sister?”
He slumps back down and sighs.
“You talked to my sister? What the fuck is wrong with you? I can’t believe she didn’t tell me for weeks.” Oh, she’s fuming.
“I wanted to talk to you. You were the one that was avoiding me, remember?”
“So, your solution was to involve my sister in your little manhunt? I’m actually going to kill you.”
“She helped.” He has the audacity to point out.
“Yeah, she likes to do charity.” She bites back.
“Ouch.”
“Pay really good attention to what I’m about to say… Stay the fuck away from my sister. She’s not a part of this world anymore. You’ve already put her in enough danger by asking her about sketchy people, you better not tell anyone that you talked to her.”
“Who would I even tell?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. But I’m warning you, Peter.”
Before he can reply she’s already disappearing into the night. Anymore. So, you did work with Felicia.
You hear the front door of your apartment open while you’re in the kitchen making yourself a cup of tea. “You better take your shoes off in my house, Felicia.” You call out, stern.
“You’re such a nag.” Her voice calls back, grumbling, but you hear her take them off anyway.
She walks in a couple seconds later wearing the extra slippers you keep by the door for her, which makes you smirk into your mug. They’re pink and fluffy, kitten ears decorating the tops. “They go with your outfit.”
“Ha-ha, very funny.” She walks past you and plops down on your couch. “I talked to Spider-man.”
You frown, following after her. “Why’d you do that? I thought you wanted to keep avoiding him.” You say, as you place your mug on the coffee table and sit next to her, folding your legs up on the couch.
“I warned him. Told him to stay away from you with his crime fighting bullshit.” She shrugs.
“What? Why?”
“Because you said you wanna just be normal and boring now? And I was feeling protective. You’d be in deep shit if people found out you’re giving him information.” She says it as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“I know how to take care of myself. Should I remind you I have the same skills as you?” You cross your arms, a little sick of her treating you like a child. You know she doesn’t mean to make you feel like you have no agency, but it does start feeling like that when you’re not five anymore. You go back to the kitchen and start to make a tea for her, even though she hates it, you need something to do or you’ll start fighting with her.
“I know that. But you’re still my sister and I care.” Her head follows your form around your apartment.
“I appreciate it, but you shouldn’t have talked to him. If I didn’t want to talk to him, I wouldn’t have done it. It’s not like he bites.” You’re closing cabinets and ripping a tea bag out of the box a little too aggressively, so it’s way easy for your sister to pick up a vibe.
She looks at the back of your head for a few beats too long and gasps “Oh my god, you fucking like him.”
You stop what you’re doing and place your hands on the counter. “Get out of my apartment.” You deadpan. Damn it. Sometimes she can read you very well.
“No, I don’t think so. You have a crush on Spidey.” Just by the sound of her voice, you can tell you don’t want to turn around to see the pure joy on her face.
You look at the ceiling and let out something between a heavy exhale and a groan.
Felicia squeals in excitement. “I’m right? My baby sister has a crush.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Wait, you’ve talked to him once… and you don’t even know who he is. You’d never get attached that quick-” Another gasp.
“Since when have you been such a detective?” You say, mostly to yourself.
“You’ve liked him for a while.”
“Felicia-” You finally turn around.
“How long?”
A long sigh leaves you “Fei…”
“Was it even before me and him…?” Your silence is an answer in of itself, and she says your name in pity. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have never…”
“It was, and still is, just a silly high school crush. Calm down.”
“Since high school!?” She all but shrieks.
“That’s actually the opposite of calming down… I never thought I would meet him so there was nothing to tell. It’s like telling you my every celebrity crush.”
“You do do that.” She remarks. “So not telling me is actually the weird part. Means something.”
“It was embarrassing.”
“So now I’ve slept with your crush? I’m a terrible sister.” She slumps into the couch in despair.
“It’s fine. It’s not like I suddenly have a chance now just because I met him one time. He’s Spider-man.”
“Yeah. And you were one of the best thieves in the world and never got caught. Crazier things are possible than Spider-man wanting that cookie.”
“Please never use that phrase ever again.”
“I regretted it as soon as I said it.” She grimaces.
“You said you told him to stay away from me 5 minutes ago. Now you’re rooting for me to fuck him.” You raise a brow.
“This is different. I can’t stop young love.” She sighs dreamily.
You sigh for the nth time and touch your forehead in exasperation. “You’re so annoying.”
“You love me so much.”
“Unfortunately, I do, Fei.”
“You know, for a while I’ve actually been thinking you and him would be a great match.”
“Okay, that’s enough.”
You’re on the roof of your building once again, having a drink and enjoying the night air– it’s been getting warmer lately, spring fully settling in the city– when Spider-man drops from above. Except, it doesn’t look intentional this time. It also looks like it hurts.
He finally looks at his surroundings when he stops groaning in pain and sees you already holding up a second ice cold can that was meant for you, but you’ll get over it. “Hey.” He says, voice strained.
“Thanks. I ran outta webs mid swing.” He explains after walking towards you and taking the can, icing his shoulder with it, and standing shoulder to shoulder with a respectful distance between you. The fake accent is as strong as ever.
“Want me to call you an uber or something?”
“Nah, I’ll just jump home.”
“Of course. As one does when running out of webs.”
He laughs and the sound stirs something in your chest, and you sincerely hope he didn’t hear the quick change in your heartbeat again… but who are you kidding…
“What are you doing up here?” He asks when his laughter subsides and surprisingly the accent sounds more natural now, enough to make you wonder if that’s how he actually sounds or if it’s still fake.
“Me?” You point at yourself, raising your brows. “You keep coming to me but you’re asking what I’m doing here?”
“It wasn’t intentional this time… just a good coincidence?” His shoulders come up in a slight shrug. Or more like one shoulder. He’s careful not to move the other too much.
“Serendipity?” You won’t linger on the fact that he’s calling meeting you a good coincidence. You won’t do that at all.
“That’s a good word.”
There’s a short silence and surprisingly it doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You’re both just enjoying the night until you break it.
“I’m sorry about my sister threatening you.” You say as you avoid eye contact, taking a sip of your drink.
“Ah, she told you.” You can hear the smile in his voice.
“I shouldn’t have told her we talked.”
“It’s fine.”
You don’t know what else to say so you take a sip again.
“She kinda slipped that you used to work together though.”
“Seriously, Fei?” You whisper to no one in particular.
“She’s very protective of you.”
“Yeah, she likes to pretend I can’t handle myself perfectly fine and wasn’t in the same line of work as her.”
He chuckles. “I can’t believe we never met while you were on the job, by the way, but I met Felicia.”
You hum. “My sister is the one that gets the attention, I go under the radar. Very handy for that type of job. Not to brag but I was incredibly good at it… Please, don’t arrest me or whatever you do.”
“Web you?”
Well, you could do that. You don’t say that out loud but instead you let out a giggle. Ew, you don’t giggle. Why the fuck did you just giggle? You tried to cover it up with a cough. Unsuccessfully. “Yeah, no, don’t do that either.” You say after clearing your throat and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s trying not to laugh under that mask.
“Why’d you do it?” He questions after a couple moments, and you finally look at him. Your expression tells him to elaborate so he does. “The job?”
“Same as Felicia, we were just raised in it. It was kinda hard to avoid it, to get out.”
“But you did.”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
You shrug, taking a sip. “Just kinda got tired of it. I mean stealing from rich people didn’t exactly keep me up at night but… the constant anxiety did. I was always worried we’d get caught. Sure, I still worry about her… Her life is her own though, you know? I can’t force her out of it… But personally, I feel much better now that I just live as normal of a life as I can.”
“Makes sense.” He moves the can off his shoulder and leaves it on the railing of the roof.
“Do you ever feel like you wanna stop being our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man?”
“Of course.”
“Really?” You expected him to say yes but not with as much certainty as he did.
“Yeah. There are times. But I feel like I have the responsibility to help people.” That’s about the answer you expected from someone like him.
“That’s very selfless, noble. But you also have a responsibility to yourself, you know? Put your own oxygen mask on first and all that. You seem like the type to forget that rule.”
“Yeah, I know.”
The silence stretches again. The only sounds come from the city streets.
“Actually, I-“ he starts when police sirens blare in the distance and he sighs “I have to…” He trails off when you nod. “Nice talkin’ to you.”
“You too.” You say and he jumps off the roof. Huh, he really can jump very fucking far.
You wonder what he wanted to say. Your curiosity has always been too strong so now that’s all you can think about. You hate it when someone doesn’t finish their sentence and leaves you agonizing over what they were trying to say to you.
Your sister is nuts. There’s no way you’ll ever have something with Spider-man. You can’t imagine dating someone who’s always on high alert. Someone who can just up and leave any second like this, in the middle of saying something. Would he leave in the middle of a date? An argument? Your wedding?
Yeah, no, this could never work. Right, it would never work. You nod along to your own thoughts in determination. You need to let this silly crush go. Right here and now.
Goodbye, Spider-man.
“Hey.” You say as you look up at the sound of the bell above the door ring and find the cute stranger from a couple weeks ago standing there.
“Hey.”
“How have you been… uhm. Sorry, I just realized I don’t actually know your name.”
“Oh, It’s Peter. And I’ve been good. How have you been…” he mimics you.
You tell him your name with a small smile. “I’ve been very well, thank you. How can I help you today?” Spider-man is definitely not for you but maybe Peter… stop. He probably has a partner already. Why wouldn’t he? He’s kind, funny and handsome.
He hums. “I think I was looking for flowers.”
“I don’t really know why you came here then.”
“Yeah, it was very silly of me.”
You both let out tiny laughs as you look at each other for a moment.
“So, flowers?” You pop the little bubble you were both in.
“Right. Uhm. So… I did my homework this time. I want callistephus, daisies and lavender.” He points at his choices.
“Oh, okay. Are you sure those will look good together?” You questioned carefully.
“I trust you can make that work... and it’s not really about the look, it’s about the meaning.”
“Okay you have me beat. Lavender is hope or devotion, daisy is pure heart or playfulness but I don’t know what the callistephus means.”
“I’ll tell you next time we see each other.”
“Cryptic… but okay, you have my attention.”
“I sure hope I do.”
You look away, suppressing a smile and start to gather the flowers and organize them into a pretty bouquet. Even without knowing the full meaning you can tell that this is for a person he likes. That’s fine. You’ve known this guy for a total of 30 minutes. There’s no reason to be disappointed. Yeah, he’s a little flirty but maybe that’s just his personality.
When he leaves you continue your previous task of cleaning up the stems of some roses that came in that morning and just keep thinking of Peter. You wonder what the person who’ll receive those flowers looks like. You doubt it’s the same occasion as last time since the meanings of the flowers told a different story. In an attempt to stop yourself from thinking you hit yourself on the forehead with the flower you just cleaned up but it doesn’t work and now you have to clean up some petals off the floor. You sigh.
You’re cuddled up on your couch watching a new show when in your peripheral you see a man’s silhouette standing on your fire escape through the window to your left. You whip your head around immediately as he raises his hand and knocks. You’re just about ready to beat the shit out of this guy for scaring you but as you approach you notice the big white eyes on the red mask and sigh in relief.
“What the hell, man?” You say once you open the window and let him in. “How did you even find where I live?”
“Well, I assumed it was the same building because we’ve talked on the roof multiple times. Scared the hell out of your upstairs neighbor while I was looking for you though.” You notice two things as he says this. The first is that the masked man looks so out of place in the middle of your cozy apartment and the second is that the fake New York accent is gone, his voice is more familiar to you but you just can’t place it yet.
“Is that your hobby or something? Scaring women late at night?” You say as you close the window and turn around.
“I promise I’m not weird.” His voice goes a little high pitched like he’s desperate for you to believe him.
“You saying that makes you seem more suspicious.” You cross your arms, a small smirk on your lips. You notice he’s holding one of his arms behind his back and look at it curiously. “What are you hiding there?”
“Oh… uhm,” He reveals a bouquet of callistephus, lavender and daisies. You recognize it immediately as the bouquet you sold to Peter earlier today. You remember it not only because it was for Peter but also because you meant to look up the meaning of it all day but got too busy and ultimately forgot. It’s the same one down to the pretty purple bow you tied around the brown paper wrapped bouquet.
Your eyes widen a bit and look back up at Spider-man’s masked face. “Wha… Oh- Oh my God, is Peter dead?”
“What? Why did your mind go there?”
“I don’t know. I’m very confused right now.”
“Okay, I’m just gonna-” He starts reaching for his mask, pauses, hesitating for a second but continues as planned, reaching the end of the mask and pulling it up as you watch in disbelief.
“What are you d-” The question dies on your tongue when Peter’s face is fully revealed.
“Hey.” He says.
You frown, tilting your head.
“I’m gonna explain.” He rushes out.
“You better.”
“I didn’t know you worked there when I first came in… and then after your sister threatened an attempt on my life, I didn’t think you wanted me around. But after I so serendipitously fell right in front of you, I thought it was a sign and I just wanted to see you again.” You look down at the bouquet, and he follows your eyes to the pretty bundle of flowers in his hand. “Oh, yeah, these are for you actually.”
You look up at him and then at the bouquet and then back up at Peter’s face. “You- You’re serious?”
“Yeah?”
“Sorry. I- Thank you. Really, I do. I’m just trying to process… everything.” You take the flowers out of his extended hand carefully.
“I did spring everything on you just like that. I’m sorry.”
“Mhm.” You let out as you mechanically fill up a vase and put it on the counter. Wracking your brain for something to say you end up with only one question. “What does the callistephus mean? You said you’d tell me next time we meet.”
“Oh, that…” He rubs the back of his head bashfully and adds “Honest love.” as he avoids looking directly at you.
You were already struggling for words but now you’re completely speechless.
“And I’m actually using the meaning of hope for lavender. So, I hope for an honest love with a pure heart. Maybe it’s cheesy, you might find it cheesy. We can forget about it, and I’ll go out that window there and you’ll never have to see me again. Just say the word. I just- I like you… a lot.”
You know you told yourself that you could never date someone like Spider-man but the fact that, out of all people in this city, the only other person you were attracted to turned out to be him has to be a sign. You’ll do the same as him and trust the sign.
He doesn’t notice you coming closer as he’s rambling and looking at the ground. You gently put your hands on both sides of his pretty face, moving it so his eyes can finally meet yours and he stops talking immediately. “I do think it’s cheesy and I love it.”
He smiles so brightly that it makes you smile just as bright. “Does that mean I can kiss you right now?”
“Right now, and any other time from now on, yeah.”
When the kiss is over he doesn’t move too far away. You can still feel his warm breath on your tingly lips as he says, “Maybe someday you could wear the suit again… just for me?”
“Alright, pack it up, buddy. Take a hike.” You point your thumb at your window and start to turn away but he catches your wrist and pulls you back into his arms.
“As if I didn’t hear your heart pick up speed when I asked.” He mumbles against your lips.
“That’s still a huge invasion of privacy.” Your voice lacks any serious note though, so his smile widens.
“Shut up and let me kiss you again.”
Bonus:
“I’m here… with a fresh pizza and a dream of laying on the couch all evening.” He announces as soon as he closes the door to your apartment with his foot, balancing the pizza box in one hand and a backpack on his shoulder because of the classes he had before work. He’s still wearing his pizza delivery uniform since he was in too much of a rush to get to your place and see you that he skipped changing.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” You call out of your bedroom.
He throws his bag next to the couch and leaves the pizza on the kitchen counter.
“What did you pick for movie night? I can queue it up while I wait for you-oh. Wow.” He looks at you wearing your old cat suit. It’s black, just like Felicia’s but the fabric isn’t shiny like hers. It zips up right to your throat. No cleavage, but Felicia insisted you at least both have the fur around your wrists and ankles. Yours, however, is gray. More covert than the stark white.
“I told you. It’s not as sexy as you think.” You remind him.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“What? Just tell me what you think?” You spin around, showing off more of the suit.
“I think we’ll have to eat cold pizza later.”
You gasp. “Mr. Parker, is that the only reason you wanted to see me in my suit? So, you can take it off?”
“Kinda, yeah.” He shrugs and you hit his arm lightly.
“We can always heat up the pizza.” You wrap your arms around his neck.
“I’m good with that.” He reaches down to get a hold of your thighs and picks you up as easily as you would a feather. After months of dating, you’re still not used to how strong your boyfriend is, and you let out a stupid giggle as he carries you back towards the bedroom. One thing you may never forgive him for is being able to make you fucking giggle.
A/N: I honestly didn't know the meaning of the white rose/forget-me-not bouquet and then i looked it up while procrastinating and the woman was too stunned to speak. and then spend way so long doing more research on what the second bouquet should be that i fell asleep at like 3 or 4 am. i've loved the korean birth flower system for years and finally got the opportunity to incorporate it into sth. i'm not an expert at it tho so i might have got a couple things wrong. also i have no idea how NY streets work or what the prices are there so yeah.
does anyone know a youtuber that chose phenomaman instead of waterboy? because the people i’ve seen always choose waterboy and i wanna see the other route
I am honest to God so sick and tired of going into x reader tags and seeing people complaining about the amount of smut.
We writers are writing what WE want to write and we're posting all of it for FREE. It's our time and energy that goes into our fics and if we want to write porn without plot you had better damn believe that's exactly what we're going to write!
No one is forcing you to click on it and read it. If you don't like it there's so many things you can do to avoid it! Fliter out the tags, block us, just scroll on by! So many of us put warnings at the start so people can avoid things that they don't want to read, the rest is up to YOU, as the reader, to actually read those warnings.
But no! Instead you sit there and complain about there being no angst and fluff meanwhile your blog is literally empty. You're not reblogging what you like, you're not even taking the time to comment on the fics that people work so hard on and telling those writers that you like their stuff and that's exactly why so many don't bother writing angst and fluff! In fact, some don't even turn to writing smut, they just stop posting altogether because what's the damn point?
It's tiring to pour your time and energy into an angst or fluff piece -- whether it's 100 words or 10,000 words -- and get nothing back. Sure you don't have to engage, but no engagment leads many of us to thinking that people don't like/want it because they don't touch it.
Meanwhile the exact opposite happens when smut is posted. People actually engage with smut and it prompts many of us to keep on writing it since there is an active and engaging audience for it. Sure you can say we should "write for ourselves" and many do, but it's simply human nature to want people to engage with the writing we've put so much work into!
And, yeah, a lot of us do just want to write smut for the sake for writing smut and there's literally nothing wrong with that at all because it is OUR time and energy and WE get to decide what we do with it!
We're not content machines ffs. We're not here to make what you want when you want it. Learn to write yourself! Experience how time consuming and HARD it actually is! Especially when you add on real life things like work or college/university or trying to live in a world where living is super fucking expensive.
You could also try commenting on the fics you enjoy! Reblog them with keyboard smashes in the tags or emojis or whatever! Hell, if you don't want to reblog something that badly on a site that's meant to be built on reblogging and sharing your interests since there isn't an actual algorithm here, pop into their askbox and tell them! And if that's still not good enough, if you're still not willing to do that, like I've already said, write your own damn fics! It's what the rest of us are doing!
i have now seen ppl complaining about reader (y/n) always being weak, feminine and bimbo-esque and also seen ppl complaining that reader is always strong, masculine and confident/cocky… can you guys pick a struggle?
like ofc not every single x reader fic is gonna have your exact personality??? i personally see a healthy mix of different reader characterizations so idk what we’re complaining so much about. if you want a reader that suits you more then start writing your own fics ig.
just a reminder that the authors on here write and post for free so maybe we could be a bit more understanding and polite when we want to start discussions about things like this.
when jacksepticeye said “i trust the fans are gonna be so normal about this” and moved on… i was, in fact, not normal about it. i needed to take a lap around the room, to reconnect with nature.
pairing: jordan li x fem!reader (no use of y/n)
word count: 3.8k
content warning/tags: mention of suicide (reader makes a joke); i unintentionally went with the self harm themes in gen v; panic/anxiety attack; cia torture methods but worse; hurt/comfort; i gave mc some of my issues, i feel like she's my daughter now; reader is literally just broken by elmira and jordan is there for her, that's the plot; angst with fluff sprinkles and a fluffed up ending. (tell me if there's anything i missed)
A/N: as promised, and threatened, i wrote sth.
like always, if you see any indication of mc's appearance that i missed, pls tell me cuz we try to be inclusive in this household.
i did not edit this as much as i'd like but i started hating it the second i wrote it, then i read it and it wasn't that bad so i wanted to post it before i change my mind again. (update: i hate it again but i’m leaving it up)
dividers: @uzmacchiato
Elmira was hell, especially for you, given the nature of your powers being a healing factor and super strength. They wanted to see how far they could push you. What your body can heal from. And even though, you can heal yourself from anything and everything, as they discovered, that did not, in fact, mean you didn’t feel the pain.
Now that you’re out you feel empty, hollow, numb. It’s like you’re watching yourself in the backseat of your own brain, like you’re doing things on autopilot.
This frat party is not fun. You’re lounging on a chair sideways, feet hanging off one armrest, head laying on the other, staring at the ceiling. You’re holding a beer that was cold once, not anymore. You haven’t even taken a sip of it yet. The perspiration on the bottle is wetting your hand and your shirt, but you don’t really notice or care.
Emma and Jordan are somewhere around here. You want to leave but you don’t want to leave them here. Not like you’d be much help in your almost catatonic state, but you still don’t like the idea of leaving them.
Jordan approaches you, sitting on a chair next to you. “I’m starting to worry about you.”
“We’re all fucked up.” You say monotonously.
“Not really in the same ways though.”
“You know they lit me on fire once.” You finally show some emotion by letting out a mirthless chuckle, and it somehow makes it worse. Jordan didn’t think that was possible, their heart clenching at the thought of you being tortured. “I mean I’m sure you heard the screaming.”
“I’m so sorry.”
You just hum.
“It’s like I see myself being here, but I don’t fully feel it.” You move your eyes away from the ceiling for the first time in what might be an hour and look at them. You reach out a hand and touch their face gently, dragging your fingers along their cheek. “I can’t really feel anything the way I used to.” You take your hand away, “Sorry.”
You get startled when their hand reaches your cheek wiping something away and then relax when you realize there was a tear rolling down.
“Fuck me, I can’t even cry properly. Feels like constipation.” You finally take a swig from the lukewarm beer in your hand. “Can’t even kill myself if I wanted to, as we’ve found out.” The joke makes Jordan frown.
“That’s not funny. I think it’s time to leave. Come on.” They say, getting up.
“What about Emma?”
You find Emma but she tells you to go without her. You still hate that idea but you’re starting to hate the idea of staying even more, so you leave, Jordan at your side.
Once you reach the dorms you linger “Can you stay with me… or I could come to yours? I just- I don’t wanna be alone.”
“Mine’s closer.” They say simply.
You flop on their couch as soon as you get into their room.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch.” They cross their arms, standing in the middle of the room.
“I’m good here, thanks.”
“Just go sleep on my bed, I’ll get the couch.”
“You know I’m more stubborn than you, Jordan.” Your voice sounds muffled as you’re pressing your face into the back of the couch, snuggling into it.
They switch to their male form and try to pick you up, but you don’t budge. They knew you were always strong but since Elmira you’ve become significantly stronger than them, in either form.
“Okay, fine, it’s your back.”
“I can survive falling off a plane without a parachute. I think I’ll be fine.” You mumble, already half asleep.
They scoff but don’t reply as they throw a blanket over you.
You wake up with a quiet gasp, covered in cold sweat. You already forgot the nightmare and maybe that’s for the best, maybe your brain is protecting you that way, you’re not particularly eager to remember it.
The ceiling is the most interesting thing to you right now as you try to regulate your breathing. You sit up, the cold floor under your feet calms you down further, enough to pick up your phone which shows 3:48 am. When you look over at Jordan, they’re still asleep which makes you breathe a sigh of relief. You don’t want them to wake up, see you like this.
And yet there’s a small feeling of something else gnawing at you. Disappointment? Sadness? You can’t quite place it. You somehow still ended up feeling alone, so you shouldn’t have bothered Jordan with staying here. You’re such a fucking burden. Your hands cover your face as you rub the sleep out of it. You won’t be able to go back to sleep anyway. You’re not sure you even want that anymore.
“I thought you and Marrie were, like, a thing.” you say sitting on top of an unmoving dryer as Jordan is leaning on another next to you. Emma is filming Marrie’s disaster of an apology video. You’re not completely sure what they hope to accomplish with that hostage held at gunpoint type acting but you have no dog in that fight.
“We were, I guess. But she left so…”
“If you had the opportunity, wouldn’t you have left too?”
They stay quiet but you can tell they’re a little irritated.
You let out a sigh, “I’m just saying. Anyone would take the opening.”
“You didn’t.”
You look at them with a confused frown.
“Don’t tell me you had no way of escaping the whole time.”
You don’t reply, looking down at your hands fidgeting in your lap. You’ve been fucking up your cuticles more than normal lately.
“Exactly, you could have left. I bet you thought about it too.”
“Yeah, well, I’m dumb.”
“You’re not. You just weren’t selfish.”
“I wish I was. I’m glad she left.” They are starting to frustrate you. “Did you want her to stay and get tortured? We both know you wouldn’t want that so why are you mad, Jordan?”
They sigh as you jump off the dryer and walk outside, sitting on the curb.
“What’s up with her?” Marrie says, concern painting her voice as Jordan follows you.
“We’re all traumatized but she’s, like, mega traumatized. They basically tried to kill her every day. It was so fucked.” Emma whispers back, even though you can’t hear from all the way outside.
“Why are you mad at me?” Jordan says.
“I’m not.”
“Sure looked like it.”
“I’m not mad I just think you’re being too harsh on her. You want someone to blame but it’s not Marrie’s fault.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” They sit down next to you.
“Sure looked like it.” You mimic.
“Haha fine. I’m being harsh. It wasn’t her fault we couldn’t get out, and Andre died, I know… but she still left and didn’t look back.”
“What was she supposed to do? Look for help and break us out?”
They groan “I don’t know, yeah, maybe?”
“Sure.” You can’t help the small smile that stretches over your lips.
They break the silence which stretched for a bit “Why didn’t you try to get out?”
“I don’t know… I just thought why bother, I have no money, no belongings and won’t be able to go home because it would just put my family in danger. They were probably gonna find me again eventually.” I didn’t wanna leave you guys in there you think but you don’t want to give them more ammunition against Marrie.
“So, you settled with the torture?”
And that makes you laugh, it’s soft but it’s a laugh, the first genuine one in a while. “I guess, yeah.”
Once you see that dumb viking wannabe at this insane training class, you step in front of everyone, in front of Jordan, by instinct.
“Stay back.” You say to Jordan specifically, because you know they’re least likely to do it.
The guy swings his hammer, landing it right in your abdomen. You double over, gasping, your feet slide back slightly but you stay upright. You take a hold of the hammer and send it back his way but he catches it. “Fucking asshole.” You whisper.
You run towards him, attacking, it’s the only way to distract him from going after the others, and your hits actually do some damage. You’re as strong as him if not a bit stronger but you lack training. Your defence is shit so he lands a couple hits, enough to have you winded, coughing up blood.
Jordan steps in, despite you telling them to stay back– for fuck’s sake, Jordan– and get thrown into a wall, groaning. At least they gained you enough time to recover somewhat. You wipe the blood off your mouth with the back of your hand and jump back in.
At the end of the fight some of the other students are injured, but no one’s dead so you’ll count that as a win. You and Jordan are sweating. You have blood running from your nose and mouth. When Cypher tells everyone to leave you slowly do, limping a bit. Jordan looks back at Marrie but follows you out.
You sit at a bench outside, groaning.
“Are you okay?” They kneel down in front of you, holding your chin, inspecting your face.
“I’ll be fine.”
They start wiping the blood with their sleeve carefully.
“Why do you always have to protect everyone but yourself?”
“I’m the only one that doesn’t need it so… what else are my powers good for?”
“You’re wrong.” They meet your eyes. “Sometimes you need it too… and that’s okay.”
You can feel your eyes watering. Where did that come from? You still can’t seem to be able to cry properly but you have a feeling that once you do, you’ll have the biggest breakdown of your life. It’s inevitable. You hate not knowing when it’s going to happen.
They sigh as they watch you walk away, back to your dorm.
“Why would you say that? What the hell, Jordan?”
“It’s the truth.”
“They don’t want the truth.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “You were supposed to be number one, now you’re gonna be public enemy number one.”
“It just didn’t feel right.”
“And now they want you and Marrie to fight?”
“It’s gonna be fine.”
“It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Hey-“
“No. Hey? Hey you!” You point at them angrily.
“Can you take a breath?”
“Jordan...”
They grab your upper arms, holding you at arm’s length. “Stop.”
“I wouldn’t be able to protect you in there.” You say quietly. You’re sure they can see the drop of fear in your eyes.
“I don’t need you to do that. Marrie won’t hurt me.”
“I know she doesn’t want to… but you don’t know what might happen.” You’re starting to hyperventilate. Fuck, stop being so weak. You’re the one who should save people not the other way around. Why does Jordan always end up having to make you feel better? You need to get it together.
“Hey, hey…” They take your face in their hands, looking at your teary eyes, noticing how you still don’t let the tears drop. “I’m gonna be fine, okay? I promise.”
“You can’t promise something you have no control over.” You say, breath a little steadier now.
“Okay, smartass. But I do have control over it because I say so. Now can you shut the fuck up for a second and breathe.”
You nod slowly, letting out a small laugh.
“Are you crazy? I’m not going back there.” Jordan says.
“Cate’s there because of us.” Marrie snaps at them.
“Oh, we suddenly care about Cate of all people?” They scoff and you must have tuned the three of them out because when you tune back in you hear one of them say your name “What about her? She’s not going anywhere near Elmira.” Jordan replies, voice a little more stern.
“I have to go…” You say and they turn to you.
Jordan says your name as if they’re begging you to stop acting crazy.
“Cate needs help, so we have to help her.” You continue.
“You seriously want to go back?” Their frown is a permanent feature in the conversation.
“No… but I have to.”
“You really don’t.” They say through a sarcastic smile.
“Guys, can I talk to Jordan alone for a minute?” You say, eyes not moving away from Jordan’s.
Marrie and Emma leave the room, throwing worried glances back at you two.
“This is crazy. You can’t actually be considering this, right?” They ask incredulously.
“I’m not considering it. I’m telling you I’m going.”
“Why do you always have to be like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like all… moral and shit.”
“I’m just trying to save people, especially ones that we’ve hurt.”
“We didn’t hurt her, I did, and you can’t save everybody all the time… and you shouldn’t have to feel forced to.”
“Wh-“
“I know you.” They interrupt. “You feel like a failure when you don’t help people. And that fucked up hero complex of yours got worse since Elmire. That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go back there.”
“So, what if I do feel like a failure?” You snap. “Saving people is supposed to be my job.”
“It’s not good for you.”
“I was given these powers for a reason, even when I found out they were given to me from a vial, I still believed that. If I, with this power, don’t feel obliged to help people, then who else is going to? This is what I was made for. I’m a sentient crash dummy.”
“You are a person.” They yell out. “You might not want to see that, but I do, everyone does. And all this self-sacrificial bullshit is fucking you up even more. You’ve always been like this, and you never understood that you need to take care of yourself first. Your head’s messed up and you’re trying to push that away but it’s never gonna work and it’s gonna come back to bite you. I know you know that so why aren’t you doing something about it?”
“What am I supposed to do?” You’ve raised your voice too, not to their level but you have.
“Stop bottling the fuck out your feelings and needs.”
“I can’t, okay... It’s getting better but I’m still in the fucking backseat, I guess now it’s more like the passenger, but still. Do you realize how much I want to yell at you right now? I wish I could scream and cry until I throw up trust me. But it’s not happening.”
Their face softens, anger subsiding.
“So, the best I can do is give myself purpose… because otherwise I might go completely fucking insane.”
“I get it but that doesn’t mean that I like what you’re doing. It’s like you don’t even care if-“ There’s a pause, like they can’t figure out how exactly to say what they think. “The only thing that keeps me from physically stopping you is the fact that it’s impossible for you to actually get yourself killed.”
“As if you could physically stop me.” You try to joke.
“I’m serious.” Their eyes are sharp as they look at you.
“I know. I’m sorry.” You look at your fidgeting hands. “Look, you’re worried about me, I get it but I’m gonna be okay. I’m gonna get over this… you just need to give me some time. For now, I need to focus on saving Cate.”
They sigh heavily, “Okay, I trust you.”
The cell feels restricting, like you can’t breathe, like you might start choking on the collar they slapped around your neck. You can’t stand it here, your powers dampened. Why did you come back? For Cate. So that was successful, wasn’t it? Now you’re powerless, confined in a cell, weak enough to struggle with opening a fucking jar. You’re hyperventilating again. You need to calm down.
Fuck, it’s not working. Need to breathe slower. What the fuck was it 4-5-6? No, 3-5-9? 4-7-8? That sounds right enough. Okay, breathe according to that. 4 seconds in, 7 seconds hold, 8 seconds out. It’s not fucking working.
All you can see is the grey of the walls, smell the concrete, the metal. What is that, bleach? It’s making you nauseous. They didn’t take the tag off the clothes they gave you so you can feel it scratching at your back, making you uncomfortable. You taste something salty and realize you’re crying. You don’t know how loud you’re being but the footsteps of guards you hear outside don’t seem to pay you any attention as they walk past.
You’ve been counting for no idea how long, you’re at 358, tapping your finger with every number. You don’t feel like you’re having a fucking heart attack anymore but now you’re crying, sobbing and you can’t stop. Fuck you, Jordan, for being right. You shouldn’t have come back. You were being fucking stupid, like always.
You’re curled up, cheek pressed to the freezing concrete floor, still crying when the door opens. You expect guards to come in and drag you somewhere they can shoot you in the head just so they could watch you walk it off after 15 minutes, so you shoot up and slide back as fast as possible, trying to hide even though you know you there’s nowhere to hide in this place.
Instead, you see Jordan approach you slowly as if you’re a wild animal they’re trying to tame. Reaching their hand out, “It’s me. It’s okay.” They whisper. “We have to go now.”
“Jordan…” Your voice sounds rough and watery, scratchy from the hours of crying, as you hesitantly put your hand on their open palm.
“I know.” They say and you throw yourself in their arms, squeezing them as tight as you can, thankful that right now you can allow yourself that in the absence of your powers.
“Guys we need to go.” Emma urges and you pull away, wiping your tears away.
“Yeah,” you slowly come to your senses, even if the faraway look in your eyes persists. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Jordan doesn’t leave your side, not in the library, and definitely not in this shady rich guy’s bunker.
“I feel better now.” You say, as they lay next to you in the room you were given. “You can go back to your room.”
You’re facing away from them, while they face the ceiling, but just the fact that there’s someone here makes you feel better. You hope they don’t go but you can’t keep them here to baby you all night.
“I’m not going anywhere. You need someone.”
Just those two simple sentences make you want to cry again… so you do. It starts quietly but Jordan hears it. You feel the bed shift behind you as they turn and embrace you, which makes you cry more. They hold you the whole time as you finally let it all out and even after you fall asleep, they don’t let go.
You’re sitting in a chair, legs and arms bound by metal bands, as you struggle. There is one person standing to your right and one in front of you, their faces shrouded in darkness. You plead for them to let you go and plead harder when you feel the cold barrel of the gun against your temple, squeezing your eyes shut, but they fire it anyway.
You open your eyes back up and all you see is water, feeling your lungs burn. You try to scream but the water chokes your voice as hands hold you under. The last thing you feel is the relief of taking a deep breath, lungs completely filling with water.
In the next instant the bathtub is empty of water and when you sit up you notice you’re alone in the room, your clothes still soaked but it’s not with water, you know it’s not. It reeks of gasoline in here. A little hatch in the door opens and a lighter is quickly thrown in before they shut the hatch back up. The little flame from the lighter quickly spreads towards you-
You wake up gasping for breath, sitting up in bed. Hands try to touch you, wrap around you but you’re still there, in that cell getting bruised and burned and shot, and the touch hurts, burns, so you push them away frantically.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay. Look at me… look at me.” Jordan says quickly but still careful enough not to scare you further.
The sound of their voice brings you back to the present, to the real world and you finally look at them, relief flooding your system.
They hold your face in their hands gently. “Just breathe with me, okay?”
You give them a shaky nod, trying to slow your breathing, copying theirs.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.” You manage to say.
They shake their head “Don’t worry about things that aren’t your fault.”
For some reason that makes you let out a small breathless laugh. They’ve been by your side since you were released from that hell hole the first time. They’ve helped you more than anyone ever has. Words can’t describe how much you appreciate them, how grateful you are that they’re always there for you, how much you like them. You’ve liked them for a while now, you realize. “Can I kiss you?” You surprise yourself by asking.
“Are you… sure?” They ask cautiously. “I mean I’d love that. It’s just you don’t seem like-”
You lean in slowly, giving them a chance to pull away. When they don’t, you connect your lips to theirs. The kiss is soft, sweet. You try to put everything you haven’t been able to say into it. Your lips feel tingly, as if there’s an electric current running through them. Your face and chest feel warm, like you just took a sip of your favourite tea in the winter. Kissing Jordan feels exciting in the best way but also like you’ve never felt more comfortable anywhere else.
When you pull away, your breathing is finally back to normal. “I’m sorry. I’ve just wanted to do that for some time I think.”
“You’ve gotta stop apologizing. I wanted to do that for a while too.” They smile. “Do you feel better?”
“Yeah. Thank you for being here with me. I, uhm, never really realized how much I needed someone.”
Their thumbs rub your cheeks, wiping the tears you didn’t realize had fallen. “I like being around you, so you could also stop thanking me.”
They lay back down, taking you with them as you lay your head on their chest. “You wanna tell me about that dream or do you want me to distract you?”
“I don’t wanna think about my nightmares any more than I have to?” You end up talking for hours about anything and everything that comes to your minds, they make you laugh, make you feel at ease, at home. You don’t try to figure out what this is, what you are. Not yet. Your focus is on more pressing things but maybe once this is all over, if that’s what Jordan wants as well, you could build a life together.
one thing about me, if given the opportunity, i’ll edit a post/comment 10 000 times like it’s my god given right even after people have already read it
when you’re writing abt a reader that’s specifically white, poc, female or male, etc etc, there’s nothing wrong with that obviously, but can you guys put that as a tag so that people can filter out the ones that don’t apply to them?
origamiaround
germansingergirl
janainaart
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
