Just for reference, I write all of my main OCs as black female characters, and most of them are plus-sized, chubby or fat (whichever term you prefer). Also this is primarily a smut and fantasy writing blog. Please enjoy!
BTS
💜💜💜
Min Yoongi (Suga)
Tuesday Mornings- coming soon!
Fruits Basket au
poly relationship, shape-shifters, Chinese Zodiac
Rating: Explicit
Preview:
All Kim Nari wanted was to shelter a stray cat from the cold. Instead she became responsible for a hot-headed, silver-haired wackjob who claimed he was the all powerful Lord of Tuesday. Whatever the hell that meant.
...
Kwon Hyuk (Dean)
🌌💔
Love the Stars- Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
nightclub au, casual hookups, a supreme amount of angst
Rating: Mature
Preview:
I like to observe people. I watch their actions as they interact in the club; the way they move, drink and speak. I've seen plenty of girls get picked up right here at the bar counter, only to see them come back the next night looking for someone new. Romance is dead. And for him, the guy drowning himself in vodka night after night, it is no different.
...
Monsta X
🧟⌛
Lee Jooheon
Don’t Smile At Me- Character List Chapter 1
Paradise Kiss au, vampire au
fashion show, plus-sized OC (this matters for the plot), poly relationship
Rating: Explicit
Check out the character list!!
Preview:
All relationships are temporary. Or at least, that's what I thought before I met the designers at Paradise Kiss.
Before I met him. Before I met them. Before I cared about anyone but myself.
I didn't know eternity could exist. But eternity is possible, as long as you pay the price.
...
Ateez
🏴☠️☠️
Park Seonghwa
Book of Shadows- Chapter 1 Chapter 2
witch au, demons, dark fairy tale elements
poly relationship, angst, depressed character- written with the utmost care
morally ambiguous OC - yes, that is important
Rating: Explicit
Preview:
Hongjoong just had to break the curse, reckless as it was. He couldn't bare the suffering any longer. The feeling of their hearts wasting away, magic slowly fading. For a witch, it was a fate worse than death.
He would do anything to make his boys happy. Even if it meant giving up his own life.
Last song- Go Big or Go Home by Enhypen (i love Enhypen's music, but if it's hard to listen to right now with the Heeseung situation I understand)
Currently reading- So many webtoons lol (Observing My Mom's Friend's Son in particular, it's super spicy and awesome). I also just started Kindred by Octavia E. Butler (a bit of a heavy choice but I recommend if you want more reads by black authors)
Currently watching - One Piece Season 2 (It's awesome, definitely check it out if you haven't seen it)
Coffee or tea- Both depending on the time of day. Morning/early afternoon is coffee and late afternoon/night is tea.
I just tagged you guys either because we've talked before in the past or I really enjoy your fics and I'm curious about you. I would love to hear from anyone, you're always welcome to reach out. Thanks 💖
Actually, you are enough. Even if you don’t work. Or study. Or go out. Or have friends. Or have family. You’re enough because you exist and your existence is enough to be enough because you are not a product. You are not a sum of output. You are not a task to complete. But because you are something the universe wanted and put here even if you’ll never understand why. Somewhere in the cosmos your existence makes a difference, even if it’s not the way others existences do.
summary: Jungwon's life could be described as reckless and irresponsible by many, but he loved it. Fighting criminals on the day and turning into any kind of animal at night to survive the city. At least it worked. Until he decides to turn into a cat to sleep in the dumpster and the next day wakes up in some comfortable sheets. Now he has to find a way to explain the situation to the woman that picked him up.
warnings! 18+, oral sex (female receiving), Jungwon might be a lil bit of a pervert, face sitting amd a bit manhandling (?)
enjoy!
Now, Jungwon is damn aware that his life might not be the usual one that a normal guy in his early twenties might experience,it turns out when your parents are scientists and you get a lethal disease your life for sure changes.
He now gets to transform into any kind of animal Jungwon could ever dream of. Could have been worse, right? He does not have a home, but still. It is not like he doesn’t work! Fighting criminals is definitely a job he doesn’t get paid tho. Which means he can’t precisely afford anything at all, that’s why he changes into animals pretty much every night.
Tonight is not any different, Jungwon turns into a cat and looks around. There must be a place somewhere he can sleep. Also it is not like he sleeps all night long, most of the times he gets woken up by some motherfuckers that enjoy harassing animals.
Then, he finally sees hope in a dumpster. At everyone their own, apparently. Cat Jungwon jumps inside of it and curls up against the extremely uncomfortable plastic bag inside of it. Somehow, Jungwon manages to close his eyes and make an attempt to fall asleep.
Jungwon turns around, that’s weird, the plastic bag is now really comfy and warm. He must be so tired that he’s picturing things like they aren’t. He stretches out expecting to hit the dumpster, but he doesn’t, his full body stretches out yet he is sure the dumpster is pretty small.
Wait, for how long has he been sleeping? Nobody woke him up tonight? That's really weird. Jungwon finally opens his eyes. Oh, shit.
He’s on some cozy white bedsheet, inside of a bedroom of someone’s house. The bed is only undone on one side, Jungwon guesses he must have been picked up by only one person. His head lifts up to scan the new place around him: a glass bottle of water on the nightstand, a few pouches on what it looks like a vanity and books all over the place, right in front of the bed there is a clothes rack full of long coats and knee high boots.
Jungwon suddenly turns around when he hears the door on his side opening and a woman wrapped in a white towel comes out. He can see her skin still a bit damp and a smile shaping her lips once she notices he’s awake.
“Hello baby” the woman pets him, her soft hand on his back.
Now, Jungwon finds himself in very weird occasions pretty much everyday but this? Oh, but the best is just about to happen.
Jungwon tilts his head to the side, the woman laughs and takes off her towel with nothing but a small pair of gray underwear to cover her.
Jungwon actually meows. All his concerns are completely gone. He has never been happier to be a cat, like ever.
He watches you as you move towards the drawer in your dresser, slightly bending over to grab whatever piece of clothing that will block Jungwon’s view.
He meows again, you laugh “Talkative, are we?” You put your bra on, just to turn around and see the cat sitting straight up right in front of you.
You were walking home from work with an empty cup of coffee in your hand and on your way you spotted a dumpster and decided to get rid of it. Thank god you saw the cat inside of it before throwing your cup and decided to take him home.
“You’re such a good boy” You pet him right before wearing your shirt and suit to leave for work, the cat meows again and rubs himself on your thigh.
“Aw, you are such a cutie! I will leave you some water and later go shopping for some food alright, baby?”
Jungwon just found out that the line between a dream and a nightmare is really blurry. He follows you in your house as you place down a small bowl for him with some water, grab your bag and leave.
Right after he hears you lock the door from the outside, he transforms back into human. “What the fuck just happened”
He tries to pinch himself on the arm, goes into your bathroom to wash his face with freezing cold water.
Nope, this is not a hallucination, it all really happened. What the hell is he supposed to do now? It is not like Jungwon could turn into his human form in front of you and explain everything after he saw you naked. And meowed, he also meowed but a man has needs! Don’t blame him.
Could he live forever as your cat? That could be a solution, if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t be thinking this, but the thought of seeing your naked body everyday corrupted his mind in such a sweet way that he doesn’t even care about anything else.
You even called him a good boy, like! If he wasn’t a cat in the moment that would have been one of the best erotic fantasies he ever experienced in life.
After a while, some deep breaths and a bowl of water later, he finally remembers that he is Beast Boy. A whole superhero that fights with the teen titans. Don’t underestimate him! He fights along with the child of Batman, that basically makes Jungwon Batman’s nephew.
He could explain the situation to you, maybe he can lie and say that he doesn’t always fully remember what happens when he is an animal… that could work. Maybe he could also add that it’s only when he regains consciousness that he can transform back so that’s why he waited so long.
The thing is that he doesn’t even know for how long you would be gone for, so Jungwon doesn’t fully have much time to reflect.
Shit, he should go back to the thought of living as your cat,maybe he can even make a pros and cons list to decide. Pros: a house, warmth, hot woman, food, the hot woman might be naked, she calls me a good boy, water. Cons: might get stuck as a cat forever
Doesn’t sound that bad.
Jungwon is still deep in his thoughts when he hears the key enter the door and quickly turns into a cat again.
You immediately look for the cat, you spot the animal over your kitchen counter “Hello baby!” You put your reusable bags down and pet Jungwon “how did you do all alone?” The cat meows once, then twice.
“Oh, my bad! You must be so hungry!” You can’t even move to go back at the bags that the animal jumps in front of you, he meows again.
You are confused, your hands try to reach the bags again and you hear another meow.
God, Jungwon really cannot do it. You even went all out and bought him food and toys! He must tell you the truth even if it means you will hate him after it. Still, he decides that turning straight up into a man might actually be a little too intense.
He takes a deep breath, you look at the cat’s small chest rise and fall back down before transforming into a bird. It happened so quickly you are not even sure it happened to begin with, what was the cat body stretching out just to get pressed down in an unnatural way… not that a cat transforming is natural to begin with.
You take a step back, your hands fly on your mouth to cover it, the bird doesn’t fly but takes small hops towards you. And then it clicked.
“B-beast boy?” Your voice is so shaky that it makes his heart shrink and he finally turns back into a human. Jungwon is now fully in front of you, his back is a bit bent, like he’s afraid to scare you even more. His brown hair is messy, yet Jungwon would swear it’s not even half as bad as it would have been if he slept in the dumpster and for the same reason the bags underneath his eyes are not the worst he ever had.
“Hello” Jungwon very awkwardly waves, he’s acting like you are the worst enemy he ever faced. “I’m sorry” his hands rub together.
You stay silent, Jungwon is not able to tell if it’s because you are shocked or disgusted yet he feels like he has to fill in the silence
“I swear I did not mean anything wrong. I just… I don't have a place to stay and living in the night city as an animal is way easier than it is as a man, especially if people recognise me” He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down “I- well… You can call me Jungwon, if you wanted to call me at all- I mean…”
“Jungwon?” He is very grateful you are finally saying something, Jungwon was about to tell you everything that comes across his mind and that would have been pretty bad
“Yes?” His eyes never leave your figure, he notices the way your features are getting loose, your body slowly relaxing from your tense shoulders all the way down to how harshly you were pressing your legs together.
“What do you mean you don’t have a place?” Between all the questions Jungwon would have guessed you to ask, that was not even in his top ten. But of course, he answers:
“My parents are gone and for as much as I work with the Teen Titans, pretty much all of them have someone and I don’t want to ask for help” He chuckles looking at your confused face, you don’t even need to ask anything that Jungwon is already going on with his last sentence.
“A superhero asking for help? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” Your eyes move back from him and the bags of cat stuff you bought. Fuck your mind is going so fast you don’t even know what to ask.
So you don’t ask anything, your body almost moves on its own as you reach Jungwon to hug him. He wraps his arms around you within a second, your head finds the curve of his neck and his chin rests in between your hair, Jungwon closes his eyes.
“Thank you” He whispers and he finds himself relax on you even more when he feels your hands moving up and down his spine “You are doing so much for me”
You gently move your head up a bit, the tip of your nose is touching Jungwon’s “Can I repay you?”
“How?”
Just like that, his lips meet yours.
Jungwon really can’t help it, he feels a very strong connection with you. It’s not only about your body but the way you show kindness to what you thought was a stray cat, you even went all the way out and you bought him who knows how many things and now that he told you the truth, you are not judging him. If anything, you are helping him,again.
You can feel him smiling on your lips when you finally kiss him back, not that it takes long to do so. You had many questions to ask him but the warmth of his body made you forget each one of them.
The kiss is feathery light, his lips are barely touching yours yet his arms around your body are holding you firmly, each touch of his is showing you a different side of him. You want to explore both.
“Are you holding back?” Somehow you manage to ask in between kisses, Jungwon smirks “You know, I have a bit of an…. animal side in me. It’s not like I can be dangerous to you but still not the best thing to show on a first time”
“I want you to”
Jungwon's head feels light, actually he is not feeling anything that’s not his hard cock in his trousers. He lifts you up in his arms and quickly takes you in your bedroom.
“Sit on my face”
His movements are sharp and quickly while he undoes the button of your trousers and kisses you again. “Wait- Jungwon what?”
“Please, sit on my face” You are red in the face, you can’t believe what he’s saying, what he’s begging you to do.
Jungwon doesn’t even wait for you to move, his large hands sit on your hips just to lift your body up and make you sit on his face. Immediately his hot tongue hits your clothed core, a little whine escapes your lips, Jungwon can’t wait to hear more of your sounds.
“Give me more baby” He breathes and for as much as he would like to keep teasing you, he moves your panties to the side, his wet tongue meets your pussy, your wetness coating his tongue, his whining sending a vibration right up against your clit.
You are a complete mess of moans, from small to loud sounds coming from your lips every time his tongue touches you. You move so much that Jungwon has to keep you still by grabbing your ass, the pressure of his hands on you just drive you even crazier.
Until he does not, his hands are still on you but this time he is helping you to move on his face.
“Ride me baby” Jungwon moans “please, cum on my face, I need it, please” His tongue doesn’t stop its erratic dance between your legs, not even when you finally cum.
Your orgasm hits you, maybe even a little too soon that you wished for, you make a mess over his lips and chin, Jungwon couldn’t be happier.
It has been a month now since the cat stuffed bags entered your house and they are still there.
“I still don’t understand why you can’t just eat it, babe” Jungwon almost chokes on the pizza he was eating when he registered what you said.
“Love, there is no way you want me to eat cat food” On the cat topic, Jungwon should probably be glad that you are only want to talk about how much you bought for the cat over the fact that he stared at your naked body when he was a feline.
“Why? you said you have an animal instinct! Just turn into a cat and have your dinner”
“Yeah, the instinct to fuck you stupid on the bed not to eat canned tuna with god knows what else!”
You cross your hands over your chest “that’s it I’m closing the window tonight” Jungwon’s jaw drops open.
Since the two of you have started dating a month ago, you have always left a bit of your kitchen window open, so that he could join you home whenever he would want, by turning in the animal he is feeling that day.
“What if we donate them? There are many shelters that need help” You look at the hopeful smile on his lips, he really doesn’t want to go back into sleeping on the streets. Understandable.
You laugh and give him a kiss on the cheeks, he blushes as if he didn’t eat you out the very first time he met you. “That’s a great idea”
Jungwon smiles “You know I love you, right?” his arms wrap around your waist, you run your fingers in his hair.
“I would hope so” He kisses you hand “I’m serious babe”
“You know, sometimes I do miss the cat that I owned for like… three hours” Jungwon doesn’t even give you time to fully close your mouth that he turns into the same exact cat.
A ear-to-ear smile shapes your lips, you bent over to give him a kiss in between his pointy ears.
an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.
Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader
Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.
CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)
Word Count: 24K
Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.
Breakups suck.
That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule?
Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else.
You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.
You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’
She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips.
“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-”
“Why do you have a lighter?”
Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“
The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.
It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours.
A supercut of every moment.
You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay.
Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called.
“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?”
Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close.
“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.”
You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..”
You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.”
You snort, “for breaking my heart?”
Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.”
Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy.
Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements.
A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall.
For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed.
Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks.
Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere.
You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion.
“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?”
Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.”
“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.”
Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?”
Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve.
“Six weeks, starting today.”
You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan.
“Six weeks.”
It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold.
WEEK ONE.
Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path.
“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.”
“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”
“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.”
You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again.
If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen.
“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?”
A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.”
For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there.
Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying.
You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face.
“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?”
“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.”
You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call.
“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-”
Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second.
“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.”
Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective.
He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt.
Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt.
“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.”
Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.”
It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back.
Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts.
You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent.
“Sleepy?”
Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join.
“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?”
Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.”
Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.
“Make sure he gets home for me.”
Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores.
The birds were screaming the earth back awake.
At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable.
There’s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene.
“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.”
“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it.
“I think… I think I’m doing okay.”
Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.”
After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea.
Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen.
You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?”
“Noon thirty.”
Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself.
Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines.
Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”
You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily.
“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.”
You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?”
“Have you ever-”
Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues.
“Who’s-”
“Did you-”
You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door.
“What do you want, penis?”
Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies?
Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes.
“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.”
Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot.
“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-”
The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.”
You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.
“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-”
“Is that Peter B. Parker?”
Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin.
The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew.
“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.”
Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying.
“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.”
She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again.
“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!”
You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately.
Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?”
You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.”
His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.”
You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite.
“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…”
Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now.
“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.”
His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.”
Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.”
It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor.
Too bad you’re more guarded than ever.
“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.”
Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection.
Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.
Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good.
On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat.
“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?”
Deny till death.
“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.”
Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”
It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth.
You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.”
Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.”
Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite.
“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?”
You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings.
“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.”
Natalie Greene knows three things to be true.
One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet.
“What if you talked to him?”
Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?”
Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet.
“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.”
You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it.
“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.”
She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline.
“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.”
Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.
WEEK TWO.
Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school.
Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out.
“Hey.”
You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change.
“How are you doing?”
You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled.
“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.”
Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?”
Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage.
“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around.
“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.”
Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?”
You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.”
You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!”
This was it.
This was your worst nightmare.
Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop.
“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together.
Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat.
“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?”
Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath.
“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be.
You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death.
Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.
It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out.
You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales.
When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb.
“I, um, I still have those cookies?”
Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much.
You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you.
Tonight, you were full of surprises.
“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.”
You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding.
You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago.
You do a double take, five months?
He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst.
You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door.
Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall.
“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.”
While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.”
Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look.
“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.”
You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him.
“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle.
“Harder,” you test it.
“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good.
“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier.
“Harder, don’t be so weak!”
He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls.
You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow.
“Fucking!”
“Piece!”
“Of!”
“Shit!”
You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?”
You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.”
Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit.
The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter.
Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid.
“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.”
Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.”
It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.”
You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind.
“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more.
“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’”
There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.
Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much.
“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it.
“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?”
No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible.
Still, you find yourself agreeing.
“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.”
It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up.
“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.
“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.”
Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’.
“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively.
You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe.
Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that.
“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up.
For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great.
WEEK THREE.
Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips.
“Let’s fuck some shit up.”
Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy.
It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?”
You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer.
It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him.
“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch.
It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone.
May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered.
“Hi, May. Is Peter home?”
She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better.
“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.”
You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves.
You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary.
“Uh huh.”
“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”
Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.”
You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity.
“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.”
May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.”
The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently.
“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!”
You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick.
You don’t think you could ever love again.
Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not.
“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at.
Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock.
“I’m sure.” Because, you really are.
Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did.
It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt.
A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.”
Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.
Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours.
For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s.
You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”
You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it.
“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”
The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.
“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.”
Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows.
“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too.
You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.”
You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.”
Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time.
Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.”
Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours.
He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him.
“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.”
Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”
For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.
Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.
“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.”
The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less.
“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen.
He would send you things he found funny.
Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny.
“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification.
‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’
You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.”
“Have fun on the trip!”
A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing.
Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.
“Hi.”
Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along.
“Okay, okay, so what did she say?”
Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate.
Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.”
You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.”
Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary.
“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass.
“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus.
He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you.
“Is that a good thing?”
You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off.
“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step.
“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement.
“And very nice curls.”
“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.”
Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought.
“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.”
You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue.
“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place.
“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started.
You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.
“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream?
It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.
It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing.
It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer?
What are you doing?
His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission.
You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him.
With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect.
You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do.
You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him.
You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner.
In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get.
All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.
He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt.
Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right.
Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life.
Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth.
“Oh, wow!”
Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.
Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!
“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?”
Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.
“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart.
Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-
“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!”
It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling.
“Are you gonna hide from me forever?”
If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.”
He’s perfect.
“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”
You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.
It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.”
May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips.
It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave.
You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.
“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.
“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like.
“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror.
“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.”
Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.”
“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner.
“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue.
“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him?
“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.”
Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself.
“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.”
The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him.
Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk.
You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t.
Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare.
“Butter, please?”
You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit.
“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard.
“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.”
Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.”
You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human.
“Oh? I thought after-”
Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.”
May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?
Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks.
“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.”
Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks.
“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?”
You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable.
“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.”
May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.”
You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?”
A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.”
“Scars don’t.”
Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?”
May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon.
“They do.”
WEEK FOUR
Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that.
You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk.
Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning?
“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?”
The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.”
Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.
“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.”
“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him.
“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.”
You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?”
“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished.
“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.”
Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.
“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.”
A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school.
“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation.
“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”
“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.”
You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.”
“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy.
“You’re in denial.”
Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.”
You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks?
And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass?
Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak.
You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.”
Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks.
How long has he liked you?
It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart.
“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.”
“But was it worth it?”
Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?”
Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?”
You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever.
If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble.
It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same.
“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer.
“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown.
“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.”
“Can’t is a funny word choice.”
“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.”
Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.”
You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that.
“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea.
“Break up with me.”
Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?”
“You said I don’t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick.
“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.”
“No.”
“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.”
“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation?
You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”
“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not.
A laugh, “then break up with me.”
You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do.
Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.”
Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.”
Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.”
It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.”
Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?
If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe.
“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it.
You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.”
Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.”
You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.”
A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.”
It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns.
“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”
You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself.
Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again.
“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.
Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart.
This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s.
It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it?
It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor.
It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more?
Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t.
You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door.
It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power.
Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you.
If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?
Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers.
When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you.
“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you.
You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?”
Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned.
“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice.
Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one.
“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.
Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic.
You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him.
“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out.
You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling.
“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you’re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out.
You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced.
“Do you see where I’m sitting?”
Peter nods, “I do.”
Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.”
You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?
“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit.
“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this?
“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it.
“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind.
You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”
“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.”
He has a very fair point.
“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.”
You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want?
“How do you know I don’t want this?”
“Because this isn’t you.”
You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.”
“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.”
Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine.
“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?
“You mean when you had a boyfriend?”
Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?”
Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever.
“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?”
You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him.
You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls.
“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you.
Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too?
“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind.
“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.”
Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?”
“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks.
“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.”
Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.
He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful.
The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter?
Would it feel like an agonizing death?
Would your wings ever be patchable again?
Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing?
It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry.
Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t.
Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it.
“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.”
Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading.
It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object.
You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.
It’s Peter’s fault.
“Because you made me want to.”
WEEK FIVE.
It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.
“Good morning.”
You nod your head, “penis.”
And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed.
You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks.
It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works.
3:02, you hear his window.
3:04, your eyes finally get heavy.
3:07, you’re dozing off.
3:10, you’re asleep.
It wasn’t fair.
Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow.
Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest.
If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked.
“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.”
Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.
"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."
Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.
“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”
When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands.
He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed.
“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.
“Peter.” You need his focus on you.
He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work.
Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly.
“Oh, good. You’re up.”
Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time.
“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.”
“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit.
“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst.
“You passed out on me last night.”
Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.”
You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex.
Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?”
“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?”
“I think another water and some advil might kill me.”
“Perfect, coming right up.”
Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.”
Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.”
Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes.
“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown.
“Does it hurt?”
Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.”
You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart.
“Guess we’re twinsies now.”
If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused.
“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products.
“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them.
“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing.
“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth.
“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed.
“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter.
You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him.
“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.”
It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds.
“Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”
“Sure. Go shopping for me.”
You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion.
Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high.
A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is.
It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard.
Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress.
Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy.
“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down.
No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right.
“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him.
“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree.
“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.”
Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t.
“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him.
“Can I ask a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.”
“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good.
He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man.
“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way.
“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man.
You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”
Now or never.
You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him.
Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours.
You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold.
You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself.
You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk.
Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss.
Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”
There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows.
“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much.
“No.”
He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing.
“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you.
Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.
“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you.
“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?”
You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?”
“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter.
You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth.
“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him.
“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm.
“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.”
“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.”
And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it.
“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.”
No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated.
When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening.
WEEK SIX.
You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.”
You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused.
You think you broke him.
“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible.
“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it.
It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore.
“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.”
She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”
“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.”
Well, when she puts it like that…
“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did.
“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.”
“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.”
You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.”
You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.”
You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip.
Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months.
When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself.
When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call.
Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too.
And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined.
When he stumbled up the steps.
When he hit his head with his locker.
When he stepped on his glasses.
When he was tackled in flag football.
When he tripped over his shoelace.
When he got glue in his hair.
When he winced while dissecting a frog.
When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind.
When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it.
When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired.
When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back.
“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying.
It’s worth it.
“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.”
Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back.
Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel.
Step two: See above.
There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do.
One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt.
A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly.
“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.”
“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?”
May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it.
“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay.
A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.”
You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts.
Is this an asshole move? Yes.
Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly.
Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that.
“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?”
You hear something drop inside his apartment.
“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?”
A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.”
Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.”
There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it.
“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.”
Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know.
“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.”
You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-”
“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it.
But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet.
“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?”
Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed.
“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.”
“Did you just call me a normy?”
“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.”
There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it.
But it’s all in the timing.
“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.”
“Miserable? What, about the breakup?”
“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference.
You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him.
But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday.
You’re in love with Peter and only Peter.
“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.”
Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”
He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no.
“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him.
Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate.
You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened.
But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite.
“Do you still like me?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-”
“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm.
“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.”
Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness.
“Can you call me sweetheart?”
“Is that the one you like?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
It’s so much sweeter than you imagined.
You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting.
May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone.
Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company.
Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were.
“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo.
“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much?
But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day.
You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter.
May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you.
Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.”
“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them.
“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.”
“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think.
“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn.
Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last.
“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.”
May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?”
“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.”
Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet.
“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck.
“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.”
“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.”
“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.”
Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention.
“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention.
“You said I was never properly loved.”
Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-”
“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.”
Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-”
“If you’d be my boyfriend.”
You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever.
“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!”
“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.”
“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.”
It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs.
“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-”
“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand.
“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.”
Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either.
It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter.
You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard.
‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night.
Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies.
Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies.
Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies.
You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks.
After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling.
But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you.
“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.”
A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-”
“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.”
“I don’t hate you anymore.”
“Spoiler alert, you never did.”
You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug.
“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?”
“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.”
“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.”
The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor.
I love that BTS is prioritizing living their lives. They've worked so hard for so long that I just want them to have fun and not worry about anything. We'll see you whenever you're ready 💜
Why Mulan is the Most Misunderstood Disney Movie of All Time
Mulan is the 36th animated feature film by Walt Disney Pictures. Released on June 19, 1998, it was the studio’s very first movie that starred Asian characters (voiced largely by Asian-Americans). It was directed by Barry Cook and Tony Bancroft, and it was written by a team led by the Asian-American writer Rita Hsiao.
The story is based on The Ballad of Mulan, a folk song from the Northern Wei dynasty. It tells the tale of a young woman named Mulan, who goes to war in her father’s place, fights on a campaign for ten years, is honored by the Khan for her heroism, and surprises her comrades when they visit her at her home and discover she was actually a woman all along.
It is also the most misunderstood, most misinterpreted Disney film of all time. It is so misunderstood that it is misinterpreted by the very studio that made it.
In this post, I will delve extensively into why Mulan is such a misunderstood movie. I also want to state, for the record, that I worked hard on this post, so I'd appreciate no negative comments. If you want to argue with my points, if you want to disagree with me…
Please do exactly the same thing I did. Please make a very long Tumblr post with the exact same word count as mine, the same number of sources, the same number of images. I'm sorry to say it, but that is the only way I will entertain your opinion.
Now that's out of the way, I hope my post is educational and helpful to you if you are not Asian. I am Korean-American, and the whole point of this post is to help non-Asian Americans understand why Mulan is Disney's most confusing franchise. I truly do hope that by the end of this post, you will see Mulan in a new light and understand why Disney's treatment of it is so strange.
There is one reason that Mulan is so misunderstood, and that one reason is simple: Mulan was a flop in China.
Mulan was a success in the United States and abroad, grossing $304 million on a $90 million budget. But in China, it bombed. It only made $30,000. There are many reasons as to why Mulan underperformed in China. The Wikipedia page for Mulan has a section devoted to China’s reception of the film:
Due to a combination of outside factors (the Chinese government’s dispute with Disney, a year’s delay in releasing the film, a bad release date with competition from local films, and rampant piracy) and cultural reasons (Chinese people hated the movie for being a “Westernized” version of their legendary Hua Mulan), Mulan flopped in China. Chinese people hated Fa Mulan. They criticized her for being too individualistic and too American. They called her “Yang Mulan”, or “Foreign Mulan”, and complained that she looked Korean or Western. (Sources here and here.)
I cannot stress enough how much China hates Disney’s Mulan. Chinese people hold contempt for Fa Mulan. Jingle Ma, the director of Mulan: Rise of a Warrior (a wuxia film adaptation of Mulan released in 2009), cited Disney’s Mulan as a portrayal of the character he did not care for (source here).
This is for one very simple reason: Chinese audiences simply can’t have the same values as Disney’s Mulan. They don’t relate to her. They don’t see her as a person, a teenager, or a child. They just see her as weird and creepy. They see her as Chinese-American food. They see her as Panda Express.
I will explain this point more later on, and explain why Chinese people hate Fa Mulan so much. It is truly strange when you notice it.
But bear in mind one simple fact: the filmmakers had no way of knowing Chinese people would hate Fa Mulan. Disney wanted Mulan to be their Kung Fu Panda before Kung Fu Panda even existed: a film set in China that Chinese people loved just as much as Americans.
And that leads me to my next big point about a certain character, and why I believe Captain Li Shang is the most misunderstood, most misinterpreted Disney character ever made.
Li Shang was made the way he was to pander to Chinese audiences. He was very clearly supposed to attract China’s attention, to be the reason that country would make this movie a box office hit. Shang is the fictional character equivalent to all of Hollywood’s desperate ploys to attract money from one of the biggest countries in the world. He is the character equivalent to the films that have been called out for pandering to Chinese people: Transformers: Age of Extinction, Doctor Strange, The Great Wall, 2012, and Pacific Rim: Uprising.
I think the point was this, in the context of the film’s original release in 1998: Fa Mulan is the relatable American everygirl protagonist, the one you want to see succeed and be a hero.
Li Shang, however, is the inscrutable Chinese male lead, the one that China is supposed to sit up and take notice of. He is supposed to justify why Disney bothered to make a movie about Chinese people at all.
The clues for this theory are all there if you pay attention to the film’s production. Shang was voiced by Jackie Chan in all of the film’s Chinese dubs: mainland Chinese Mandarin, Taiwanese Mandarin, and Cantonese. His model sheet states that he was based on Bruce Lee, China’s favorite action hero (which is deeply ironic, because Bruce Lee was a Chinese-American who grew up in Hong Kong and was partially white on his mother’s side).
He is stoic, serious, and dignified at all times, and never meets Mushu or Cri-Kee. He is handsome, authoritative, and powerful. He gets extra scenes with his father, he's the leader of Mulan's platoon, and Chi Fu gets emphasis as his personal antagonist just as much as he is Mulan's. He wears a red cape, just like China's flag. And moreover, he is hard for non-Asian viewers to understand.
This is why there are so many debates about his sexual orientation and whether or not he was attracted to Mulan when she was Ping: because he shows subtle signs of affection towards Ping (smiling at Ping after being kicked in the face during training, looking back at the "For what it's worth, I think you're a great captain" comment, touching Ping's shoulder in response to "his" condolences over his father's death, and smiling at "him" and telling "him" he has his trust), like an Asian person would.
The reason this is not obvious to the viewer is because China did not like Disney's Mulan. The movie failed in China, and Chinese audiences simply weren't there to respond to Shang's character. They were indeed alienated by Mulan being too American, and completely ignored her boyfriend. The one they were supposed to relate to.
And that is why Shang is so confusing to the non-Asian American viewer. That is why fan discussion about Shang is so repetitive and circular, and always focuses on only two topics: how hot he is, and the question of whether or not he loved Mulan when he thought she was a boy. Non-Asian American fans, particularly white Americans, fetishize and sexualize Shang because to them, he is the male version of the “exotic Asian lady” racial stereotype.
This is also why it is deeply ironic that Mulan (2020) removed Shang’s character. The live-action remake tried to pander to China, to succeed where the original animated film failed, and not only failed again, but also removed the character who was designed for Chinese audiences. The remake made Mulan a China-pandering hero who wore red, and ignored the actual character who was already the China-pandering hero wearing red in the original film.
And most importantly of all, this is why Shang is a bisexual icon. He is both the inscrutable Asian love interest and the boyfriend in a girl power fantasy film. These two factors combined make him extremely desirable to the American viewer, but they also make him extremely confusing.
And I’m sorry, but I’m going to be blunt: as a Korean-American woman who watched this movie over and over as a kid, I truly believe I have the correct interpretation of Shang’s feelings for Mulan.
The interpretation is this: Shang was in love with Mulan when she was Ping, but he is not bisexual. He is straight with an exception, that exception being Mulan.
Confusing? Yes, I know it is. But please keep in mind that Mulan went into production in 1994 and was released in 1998, in a time where LGBTQ+ rights were very different. The filmmakers are all cisgender and heterosexual except for Dean DeBlois (the co-head of story), and they aimed the movie at a cisgender and heterosexual audience. It’s okay to headcanon Shang as bisexual, but to treat him as canonically bisexual is not only giving the filmmakers more credit than they deserve…
…it also misses the point of Mulan and Shang’s relationship. (For a very good reason, please read further before you call me biphobic.)
I will get more into that later. For now, I will cover another important point about another character who has also been misinterpreted, though absolutely nowhere near as much as Shang. That character is our main character, Mulan.
Now, I want to stress, first of all, that I support trans rights and I do not condone transphobia in any way.
But with that out of the way, I want to say this: interpreting Mulan as a trans man misses the point of her character.
There is an obvious rift between (usually white and American) trans people who see Mulan as a transgender icon because of her song, “Reflection”, and her story about disguising herself as a man, and Asian women, Chinese feminists especially, who see Mulan as a female icon and vehemently disagree with the trans interpretation because they believe it goes against the whole reason Mulan is legendary in China.
Chinese feminists argue that the entire point of Mulan’s character arc is lost if you interpret her as a trans man, because the point is that she proves women can be just as good as men. She stands up and defies the sexist traditions of her society to save the day by being a courageous, intelligent woman. The power of this message is undermined if she was “actually” a man all along.
I agree with this argument, but I want to take a different tack by taking Mulan’s love interest, Shang, into account.
Mulan cannot be canonically transgender for the same reason Shang cannot be canonically bisexual: she was made by cisgender, heterosexual filmmakers in 1998 for cisgender, heterosexual audiences. She was made to appeal to American girls in the same way Shang was made to appeal to Chinese boys. And most importantly, Mulan and Shang’s character arcs are defined by being gendered contrasts.
Mulan is the feminine counterpart to Shang. Her entire arc hinges on her lack of femininity not making her less valid as a woman. She is a woman who learns it's okay to not be feminine, and she is also specifically an Asian woman who overcomes the sexism of her society to be a hero. Most transgender people who interpret Mulan as a trans man are not Asian and are often white, and are missing the point because Mulan being a man undermines the point of her defying sexism.
Mulan and Shang's character arcs are yin and yang. Mulan is a woman who starts off insecure about her failure to be feminine, but grows stronger and finds happiness in being a woman in the end when she saves China. Shang is a man who starts off confident about his success at being masculine, but breaks down and grows vulnerable after losing his father.
All of that is lost if you interpret Mulan as "actually" being a man. It makes absolutely no sense if Mulan is a trans guy. Even if you leave out the important cultural context that Mulan is a Chinese female icon defined by being a woman, and the problem with trans people interpreting her as trans is that they're mostly white and thus don't get her cultural context as an Asian woman, the point is that Mulan is Shang's narrative foil by being a woman. And Shang's character arc is about unlearning his sexism against women because of Mulan, who is his feminine counterpart.
This is also why fanfiction that gender bends Mulan to be a cis male named Ping makes me so uncomfortable. It misses the point of Mulan and Shang’s powerful bond to make it a standard gay male relationship, usually to fetishize Shang and Ping. It plays into my larger point about Shang being an incredibly misinterpreted and misunderstood character, who is fetishized constantly by non-Asian fans because of his good looks.
Now, that also leads me to my point about Mulan and Shang’s relationship. I believe their relationship is unique and sends a very deep, important message that has often been lost and misinterpreted not just by fans, but by Disney itself. I have written an entire manifesto called “You Fight Good” that analyzes Mulan and Shang’s relationship from Shang’s perspective. It is very long, and divided into seven parts. You can read Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here, and Part 5 here.
The short version, however, is this. I believe this is the intended moral of Mulan and Shang’s relationship:
True love knows no gender. True love knows no sexuality. Shang loved Mulan for what was in her heart, not what was between her legs. That was why he loved Ping, the soldier who defied his expectations, proved him wrong, comforted him, and saved his life twice. Whether or not he's bisexual is completely besides the point, because the only thing that matters is that Shang loves Mulan, and only Mulan. The filmmakers did not intend for Shang to be read as bisexual. They meant for him to be straight with an exception, and that exception is Mulan because Mulan is special to Shang.
I believe there are two main reasons why Mulan and Shang’s relationship is so misinterpreted by fans. They are as follows:
Mulan and Shang’s relationship is often misinterpreted because they did not kiss at the end of their film. Their relationship is mistaken for merely being implied, and Mulan II, which was written by three white American men and not Rita Hsiao and her team, is wrongly given credit for “validating” their relationship by having them kiss and get married.
I believe that is wrong. I believe that the only way Mulan and Shang’s relationship makes any sense at all is if Shang fell in love with Ping. That is their love story. That is their entire romance subplot. Mulan and Shang already had a love story in the original film. They did not need the sequel to make them a “real” couple, because Shang loved Ping.
Please remember that in traditional Chinese adaptations of Mulan, Mulan’s love interest and commanding officer were separate characters. The filmmakers could have made Mulan’s trainer General Li, and had Shang only show up at the end to be Mulan’s love interest after she stopped pretending to be a boy. He would have been no different from Princes Florian and Charming, who fulfill similar roles in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Cinderella, who barely make appearances and only show up to whisk away the heroine to fairy tale wedded bliss in the end.
If Shang really did only fall in love with Mulan after she turned out to be a girl, then he would’ve only shown up at the very end in the last thirty minutes because that’s when the romantic arc would have begun.
But he does not. He shows up at the beginning, at the same thirty-minute time mark as Megara from Hercules and Jane from Tarzan. He is in the movie from beginning to end, because he is the love interest from beginning to end.
The second reason I believe Mulan and Shang’s relationship is misinterpreted is because of homophobia. Unfortunately, the mere implication that Shang fell in love with Mulan when she was Ping brings up the tiring, circular, never-ending debate over what his sexual orientation is. People will debate, over and over and over, whether or not Shang is gay, bisexual, pansexual, demisexual, or whatever else.
People who argue that Shang is straight and are usually homophobic about it will argue that Shang didn't love Ping at all and only saw "him" as a brother (which is misinterpreting the movie). People who argue that Shang is bisexual or gay (and claim to appreciate him, and hold him up as a bisexual icon, but usually just fetishize him because he’s a handsome Asian man who goes shirtless) will argue that Shang loved Ping more than Mulan and was angry when Mulan turned out to be a girl because that made her less attractive to him.
And, again, I’m sorry, but I believe all of these people are wrong. Shang’s sexuality is not the point. All that matters is that he loves Mulan and Ping equally. He felt brotherly affection for Ping at first, but fell in love with Ping when “he” saved his life in the avalanche. The reason he is angry when Mulan’s secret is exposed is because he is hurt that his best friend and true love lied to him.
I should also note that BD Wong, Shang’s voice actor, stated in an interview that he would like to think Shang was indeed attracted to Ping. (Source here.)
I will come back to this point later. I will explain later why Shang cannot be gay or bisexual, and I cannot stress enough that while I support LGBTQ+ rights and LGBTQ+ headcanons, I truly believe that Shang cannot be a sexual minority because that misses the point of his character arc.
Now, I mentioned Hercules and Tarzan earlier. Let’s go back to that.
Mulan was released back-to-back with a specific set of movies: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996), Hercules (1997), and Tarzan (1999). Mulan cannot be a Disney Princess movie because it follows the same story beats as those films. It is a war movie, it is an adventure movie. Those movies, like Mulan, are not fairy tales. They are not marketed in the Disney Princess line. The only reason Mulan is marketed as a Disney Princess movie is because Disney sees Mulan as their token Asian girl. Mulan was made as Disney’s first Asian lead to appeal to China. Because China did not like Mulan, Disney did not bother to make another movie set in an Asian country, and thus a movie about an actual Asian princess.
That is why, despite Mulan’s success in the United States, Disney did not make another movie with an Asian lead until Big Hero 6 in 2014, sixteen years later. The reason we did not get another Asian Disney movie for over a decade is because Disney prioritized the native Asian people who hated Mulan over the Asian-American people who loved Mulan. That is because Disney does not actually care about Asian representation. They care about money.
Mulan is a farmer girl whose father is a soldier. She goes on a hero’s journey to save the Emperor from Shan Yu. She cannot be a princess because she was designed to be as relatable as possible to American girls, which is why female Disney fans hold Mulan in higher regard on average than male ones do. That is why she has a mother, unlike so many of the Disney Princesses. That is why the fancy, iconic dress she wears is an outfit she is uncomfortable in. That is why she does not have a “love at first sight” moment with her love interest, that is why she does not sing a duet with him about how much she loves him, and that is why she does not kiss him at the end. Her romance with Shang is a subplot for her character arc about becoming a hero. She is the female equivalent to Quasimodo, Hercules, and Tarzan.
Please look at this poster below. Please pay attention to how this movie was marketed.
This is how Mulan was advertised at the time. Mulan was marketed as a hero, a warrior who saved the day. The moviegoers in 1998 would have seen Mulan as an American underdog hero to root for, in the same way they rooted for Hercules in 1997. They would not have seen her as a Chinese princess.
That leads into my greater point: Mulan is a Chinese-American movie, and this is why Disney misinterprets their own film. Disney sees Mulan as a Chinese movie, an “exotic” movie, their token Asian movie. Disney does not understand the themes and story of Mulan, which is why Mulan II and Mulan (2020) turned out the way they did (read: very poorly).
Remember the point I made earlier about how Chinese people hate Disney’s Mulan? I will revisit it here.
The reason China hates Fa Mulan is because Mulan is too relatable to American girls. She’s kind, she’s funny, she’s expressive. She starts off as a bumbling, insecure dork who’s sad and miserable about not fitting in, but she eventually blooms into a confident and courageous young woman who saves China with the power of her wits and friendship. And most importantly, Mulan is Asian-American.
Mulan looks Asian, but she is sympathetic to Americans, especially Asian-Americans. She has American hero cues, American expressions, and American behavior. She can’t relate to her family, they’re too different from her, they mean well but constantly try to crush her spirit out of the mistaken, well-meaning belief this will make her exactly like them…
That is why Asian-Americans love Mulan. And that is why Chinese people hate Mulan. Remember what I said earlier about them complaining that she’s too individualistic? Yeah.
Most importantly, this is why you hate Mulan (2020). Not just because it removed Shang and Mushu, not just because it removed the songs, not just because it was overall a bad movie all around. You hate it because it made Mulan a bland, boring Chinese “girlboss” who was completely unrelatable to you, the American. You hate it because it ruined everything you liked about Fa Mulan in a desperate, pathetic effort to pander to Chinese audiences, who didn’t even like the movie anyway.
That’s why it does not make sense for Disney to market Mulan as their token Asian Disney Princess, as an “exotic” Chinese princess in a pretty dress. That is not why American girls of all races loved Mulan when they saw her for the first time on the big screen on June 19, 1998. Mulan is an all-American girl. She cannot ever be a native Chinese girl, because that ruins her audience appeal.
Or, to put it another way: you love Mulan because she is a brave and heroic farm girl. Disney loves Mulan because she is a Chinese girl they can use to court cash from Asian customers.
Remember what I said earlier, about how Mulan was made to appeal to American girls and Shang was made to appeal to Chinese boys? That is key here to understanding why Shang is so fundamentally misinterpreted and misunderstood by American viewers in a way that Mulan is not.
Shang’s character arc is based on him being a Toxic Asian Alpha Male™. He is the Chinese equivalent of a privileged, cisgender heterosexual white man. He is not a sexual minority in any way. He is mean to Mulan when they first meet, and although he has understandable and sympathetic reasons for why he’s so hard on her at first (he was being promoted by his father, fantasizing about being the leader of China’s greatest troops, and being hassled by Chi Fu before he saw her being blamed by the other soldiers for starting a food-fight that destroyed his camp), the fact remains that he humiliated and scared her in front of the entire platoon and made her an outcast.
This is because, as I said before, Mulan and Shang’s character arcs are yin and yang. Mulan starts off as a tomboy, a loser, a weakling who can’t fit into her society’s ideal of womanhood. Shang starts off as a hero, a winner, a powerhouse who perfectly lives up to his society’s ideal of manhood. And for this to work, for him to be a privileged man, he has to be heterosexual. He has to be straight.
This is why Shang does not ever act on his attraction to Ping. It is not just because he is a consummate professional who would never abuse his power over a low-ranking soldier. It is because he questioned his heterosexuality because of Mulan.
I’m going to be very blunt: I believe the only reason the theories that Shang is gay or male-leaning bisexual exist at all is because most of the people who push those theories are not Asian. They are white. They are projecting their LGBTQ+ headcanons onto the very Asian, very inscrutable man because of their fetishization of Shang and nostalgia from not watching the movie in decades. Or, to put it another way: you, the non-Asian American, do not understand Shang because he is the only Disney character who is defined by his race and cultural context.
Shang’s character arc is completely nonsensical if he is gay or male-leaning bisexual. He does not like men before he meets Mulan. He is secure with himself, he is indoctrinated by his society into being the Ultimate Chinese Manly Man™. The point of that arc is lost if he is a sexual minority, in the same way that Mulan being a trans man misses the point of her character arc.
Because, just like how Mulan’s Chinese-American coding is important to her character, Shang’s Chinese identity is important to his character. Without his being Chinese, Shang’s character makes no sense at all. He is incomprehensible. Without it, he’s just a weirdly stoic guy who acts vaguely affectionate toward the heroine a few times, nearly executes her, and then randomly falls in love with her at the end.
This is why Shang is so confusing. This is why Mulan fans, time and time and time again for all time, argue over Shang’s sexuality, even though his character is not confusing at all to Chinese audiences. To them, he would have been clear-cut. To them, Shang's feelings for Ping would have been very obvious.
Because most importantly of all, I want to keep reminding you that Shang is China-pandering. He is stoic, he is reserved, he is dignified. His model sheet explicitly notes that he has understated acting like Clint Eastwood. The reason he is not more overt about his affection for Ping, and not more overt about his emotions in general, is because the Chinese viewer would not have respected him if he was.
Shang shows his affection for Ping subtly. He acknowledges Ping by looking back at “him”, by touching “his” shoulder, by smiling at “him” and saying “he” has his trust. Chinese viewers would have understood that Shang cares deeply for Ping, because he shows his affection through actions. Asian people do not primarily show affection through hugs, kisses, and declarations of love, they show it through gestures.
This is why Mulan and Shang should not be the token Asian Disney Princess and Prince. Their love for each other is realistic. They don’t kiss or declare their love for each other, they don’t sing or dance together, they do not have a “love at first sight” moment (Mulan has a crush on Shang when they meet, but that is a human reaction, and it is not played as a magical fairy tale moment). Mulan and Shang do not have a fairy tale romance, and the only reason you think they are a Disney Princess couple is because Disney has falsely marketed them as such. Shang’s love for Ping is subtle, because the Chinese viewer, not the American one, was expected to understand that Ping is special to him.
Shang loved the bumbling, dorky recruit who became such a brave and exceptional soldier, a brave and exceptional hero. His love for her was pure, it was real because he is the only animated movie male lead who loved his heroine before he even knew she was a beautiful girl who could bear his children. And the Chinese viewers would have understood that, and would have been moved by that, if only they had understood that Shang was made for them.
The reason this has not been picked up on for twenty-seven years and counting is because, due to China’s hatred of Disney’s Mulan, Chinese viewers completely ignored Shang’s character. They simply were not there to explain Shang to American viewers.
Again… I can’t stress this enough. I need to stress this to you, over and over, because it is really important:
The reason Mulan is the most misunderstood and misinterpreted Disney movie of all time is because China hated Mulan. Because China hated Mulan, Disney did not bother to make another Asian movie. Because China hated Mulan, Disney made Mulan and Shang their token Asian Disney Princess and Prince to make money off of them instead of making an actual Asian Disney Princess and Prince who fulfilled the royal fairy tale tropes of other Disney Princess movies.
This is why you, the American, only think of Mulan as Disney’s Chinese princess movie, when in reality, Mulan is Disney’s Chinese-American adventure movie. That is how audiences on June 19, 1998 saw it. That is how it was made. (Here is a Twitter thread by Joshua Luna that goes into more detail about why Mulan is a fundamentally Asian-American movie.)
This is why, quite frankly, I cringe when I see people cite a certain individual when talking about Mulan. I believe this person, along with one other individual, has actively contributed to misinformation about Mulan.
I believe Xiran Jay Zhao, a native Chinese person who made YouTube videos about Chinese culture in Mulan, and Scott Mendelson, a white male film critic who made a tweet about Mulan, are wrong about Mulan. I believe they have actively contributed to misinformation about Shang’s character because of the constant cultural misunderstanding of Mulan.
I want to be polite, yet firm. I want to stress that you should not send hate or harassment to these people. But I truly believe both of these people are wrong about Mulan and Shang.
I believe Xiran Jay Zhao is just as bad as Disney because, just like Disney, they only see Mulan for its Chineseness. They are a native Chinese businessperson, who actively markets themself on their Chineseness for hollow “diversity” points. They made these YouTube videos to make money off of white Americans. They only see Mulan as a Chinese movie, and they do not understand its Asian-American themes because they are not Asian-American. They have made the same tired jokes about Shang being bisexual. They have done the same thing as Disney. That is why I, an Asian-American person, dislike them.
For Scott Mendelson, I believe he is not good at his job. He failed his job as a movie critic. If he truly believes Shang did not care about Ping at all, then I’m sorry, but he was simply not paying attention to the film. As a cisgender, heterosexual white man, he is the American equivalent to Shang (a cisgender, heterosexual Asian man), and yet he failed to understand Shang’s character at all.
That is why I dislike those two. That is why I believe you should not take their opinions seriously. They are both wrong about Mulan.
Now, then. I’ve already gone over why Mulan is not the Chinese Disney Princess movie Disney markets it as, and that Mulan and Shang should not be Disney’s token Asian Disney Princess and Prince. That leads me to a thought experiment, one that I guarantee you have never thought of at all:
What would have happened if Mulan had succeeded in China?
If Mulan had indeed been Disney’s Kung Fu Panda, and had been a hit with Chinese viewers just as much as it was with American ones, I truly believe everything would have been different. I believe Disney would have seen movies with Asian protagonists as a worthwhile investment. I believe we would have had another Disney movie with an Asian lead before Big Hero 6.
I believe Mulan would have been marketed differently. Mulan would have been marketed as its own movie, just like The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hercules, and Tarzan. Mulan and Shang would have been marketed like Phoebus and Esmeralda, Hercules and Megara, and Tarzan and Jane. Mulan would be marketed as a Disney heroine, not a Disney Princess, and her iconic outfits in merchandise would be her Ping armor and her blue dress, not her green and pink dresses.
Because, remember… Mulan’s iconic outfit is her Ping armor. It is the outfit she is in on all of the movie posters. It is the outfit she wears for most of the movie. The only reason she is not marketed in it is because Disney wrongly merchandises her as their token Asian Disney Princess, and because of that, she is wrongly marketed in a feminine outfit she only wore for two scenes at the beginning of the movie. It is strange of Disney to market her in the green dress. It’d be like if Disney marketed Hercules in his plain white tunic instead of his hero outfit.
You need to understand that the only reason Mulan is not marketed this way is because China didn’t like Disney’s Mulan. And if China had liked Disney’s Mulan, Disney would likely have made at least one more movie set in an Asian country. Moreover, Disney would likely have made an authentic Asian Disney Princess movie.
This will be where I get very, very strange. I will sound like a conspiracy theorist. But please bear with me. I believe that if Mulan had been a box office hit in China, Disney would have invested in a movie set in Japan next.
Japan is the other major East Asian country besides China. Japan has an active animation industry. Japan is the most obvious choice for another Asian Disney movie. Disney’s next Asian lead after Mulan was Hiro Hamada, a Japanese-American boy.
And in this hypothetical Disney movie set in Japan, the next Asian Disney movie after Mulan, the star would have been Princess Kaguya.
Kaguya is a famous Japanese fairy tale heroine. She is the protagonist of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. I won’t go too much into the actual story, because the story itself is not the point. The point is that Kaguya’s story, unlike Mulan’s, fulfills Disney fairy tale romance tropes.
It has all the fairy tale tropes. It has a beautiful princess from the moon with adoptive human parents, an Asian fantasy setting, suitors who fight for her hand in marriage, a lovely palace that the Emperor of Japan wants to whisk her away to forever, to be his bride, to be his empress, to be his princess. It is the most obvious choice for a Disney movie. It likely would have been the next Asian Disney movie. If Mulan had succeeded in China, Disney would have expected Kaguya to succeed in Japan.
Moreover, Disney is aware that Kaguya exists. Disney has no excuse for ignoring Kaguya the way they do, because Walt Disney Japan helped produce the Ghibli movie, The Tale of Princess Kaguya.
Now, this is where I’m going to get really strange and conspiracy theory-sounding. But… can I show you this image? Real quick?
Be honest with me. Do you know who this is? This girl is from a popular video game. She looks pretty, she looks princess-y, she looks Asian. I truly do bet that you do not know who this girl is. She is a stranger to you. All you know about her is that she looks like an Asian Disney Princess.
This turnaround is for the girl’s boyfriend. Her love interest. I guarantee that you do not know who this handsome man in white is. He is the hero of a popular video game, but he does not live in your consciousness at all.
Now, I want to ask you something else: do these characters look familiar to you?
They do, don’t they? Please do not lie to yourself. Please be honest.
You think these characters look similar to Mulan and Shang. You think the girl looks like a girly, feminine version of Fa Mulan. You think the guy looks like a vaguely rougher version of Li Shang.
I’m not saying Chinese and Japanese people look exactly the same, not at all. Obviously, they are very, very different ethnic people (in the same way English and French people, despite both being white and European, are very different).
But there’s no denying it. These characters look weirdly, completely and utterly coincidentally similar. I cannot stress that enough. It is weird to me that there is an actual Japanese story, made by white Americans, that somehow…
Looks exactly like the ideal Asian Disney Princess story.
Do you want to know who these characters are? Where they’re from?
They are from the video game, Karateka. They are the romantic leads of a video game that was produced in 1984 by Jordan Mechner, and received a remake in 2012. It has no relation to Disney at all and has no artists in common as far as I know, yet somehow, this video game is the perfect Asian Disney Princess story.
The game itself is simple: the player must fight a bunch of guys with karate to rescue a fair princess from the evil Lord Akuma’s castle. The 2012 remake has the same premise, but with the twist of three playable characters instead of one. You start off playing as this guy who looks like Shang, and if he loses, you play as two other men (a monk and a big, hulking brute). You are encouraged to retry to get the “correct” ending where this girl wins her handsome prince.
And here’s the kicker: this girl’s name is Princess Mariko. Her boyfriend does not have a name, he is called the “True Love”. This girl who looks like Mulan has a name that also starts with an M. Isn’t that just… a really strange coincidence?
The basic point of why I am bringing up this unrelated video game in a post about Mulan is this:
Mariko looks like what Disney’s Kaguya would have looked like in the alternate universe where Mulan succeeded in China and Disney invested in a movie set in Japan, which would have received all the marketing as the actual “Asian Disney Princess” story. The True Love looks like what the Emperor, Kaguya’s love interest, would have looked like. Mariko and her True Love look coincidentally similar to Mulan and Shang because they are designed to be the standard attractive Asian woman and man, just like Mulan and Shang are.
In this alternate universe, Mulan and Kaguya would co-exist as Disney’s two Asian heroines. Mulan would be recognized for what she really is: the hero of an adventure movie, a war movie. She would not be a Disney Princess at all, because Kaguya would fill that role. Kaguya would get all the sparkly, girly, princess-y merchandising and extra fancy dresses she never actually wore in the film, while Mulan would be marketed correctly in her armor and blue dress. Mulan would never be called a “Disney Princess” movie at all.
The point is that an Asian Disney Princess movie was right there, and Disney did not take it. At all. It was tailor-made for them, and they just did not care. China did not like Mulan, so they did not even bother to make Kaguya for Japan. Kaguya and the Emperor should have been the token Asian Disney Princess and Prince, not Mulan and Shang.
That is the world we would be living in if Mulan had succeeded in China. Do you understand now, truly, why Mulan is the most misinterpreted, most misunderstood Disney movie of all time? It is because if it had succeeded in its protagonist’s homeland, we would have had more Asian representation on American screens. Mulan would not have been Disney’s token Asian franchise, it would have been one of two Asian franchises. It would have been recognized as Disney’s Asian-American movie, while Kaguya would have taken the role of Disney’s “exotic” Asian Disney Princess movie. Mulan would have been Disney’s Asian tomboy heroine, and Kaguya would have been Disney’s Asian girly girl heroine. They would have been compared and contrasted with each other by fans.
Now that we’ve gotten all of that out of the way, and established that Mulan would have been marketed very differently if it had succeeded in China and it would likely have caused the existence of another Asian Disney movie, I want to ask you one thing.
What do you think Mulan II would have been like if Mulan had succeeded in China?
I want to state, first of all, that I do not like Mulan II at all and do not consider it canon. That being said, I do not hate people who like it, and this is not a personal attack on them.
With that out of the way, I will not talk that much about Mulan II because it’s really not the point. The reasons for why it’s bad (Mushu’s radical 180 in characterization to make him the villain for stupid reasons, the lack of a proper villain besides Mushu, Mulan and Shang’s mischaracterization and dumb domestic drama, the boring princesses, the horrible implications of the ending) have already been delved into. But I want to bring up a thought experiment that no one has ever brought up before, and establish one thing before I get into it:
The reason Mulan II is bad is because it is a concentrated effort to bring Mulan in line with her soulless, tokenized Asian Disney Princess merchandise. That is why Mulan wears her hair long again and wears dresses all the time, why Mulan and Shang kiss and get married and act like an extremely heteronormative couple, why three never before mentioned daughters of the Emperor are introduced, and why it is a musical even though Mulan stopped being a musical halfway through for very plot-relevant reasons. That is why it feels so out of step with its predecessor movie: it completely changed genres. Mulan is an adventure movie. Mulan II is a hollow effort at a Disney Princess movie.
Now, for the thought experiment: what do you think Mulan II would have been like if Mulan had been marketed correctly?
If we look at certain other story beats in the Disneytoon Studios direct-to-DVD sequels, we know exactly what Mulan II would have been like. Or at least, I believe I know. And what I believe is this:
I believe if Mulan had succeeded in China, Mulan II would have also been a war movie. Mulan II would have also been an adventure movie.
Now, I’m not saying that would have improved the movie at all. I’m not saying that would have made it good. It was Disneytoon Studios, it would still have been cheap. It would still have been washed out and ugly to look at, and still have silly, contrived plot beats and bad characterization written by new writers for a quick and easy cash-in.
But I believe that in this scenario where Mulan was a success in China and received non-Disney Princess merchandise, Mulan II would have been about a renewed war with the Huns. The Huns would have attacked again, and Mulan would have dressed up as Ping again. Ting-Ting, Su, and Mei would not exist at all. The main villain would have been Shan Yu’s never before mentioned younger brother (just like how The Little Mermaid II had Morgana and The Lion King II had Zira and the Outlanders). Mulan and Shang would probably still not have kissed, or if they had, it would have been in completely different circumstances. They likely would not have gotten married. Their romance would have remained a subplot.
Mulan is such a misunderstood movie that Disney itself doesn’t understand it. Its lack of success in China has turned it into the most confusing Disney franchise ever made, because everything Disney did with Mulan after the original film was to try to “correct” it.
That is why Mulan II is a failed effort at an Asian Disney Princess movie, rather than an adventure movie like Mulan. That is why Mulan (2020) is such a colossal China-pandering mess that turned out to be for completely nothing, because Chinese people still hated it.
Finally, I want to make one very big, important point about Mulan (2020).
Mulan (2020) is not just bad for the reasons many people have already covered. It’s not just that it was an absolute mess from the start, with how in 2016, it was leaked that Disney bought a spec script called The Legend of Mulan by Lauren Hynek and Elizabeth Martin that featured a white male savior love interest (source here), and this news caused so much rightful outrage among Asian-Americans that Disney had to issue a public statement that the live-action remake would have a 100% Chinese cast (source here).
(I feel that again, the fact that this disgustingly racist and misogynistic script existed at all is proof that Disney has lied to and gaslit people into falsely thinking Mulan is an “exotic” Chinese girl. These white American women wrongly thought Mulan was a native Chinese character and turned her into an exotic Asian love interest stereotype, and completely ignored that Shang was the “exotic” Asian love interest in the original film.)
It’s not just that. No.
The reason Mulan (2020) is bad is because it had native Chinese consultants who misinterpreted Mulan’s character. Bill Kong, a Hong Kong movie producer, was the executive producer for the film and constantly claimed that it would be more accurate to Chinese values. It is not just that it had a white director (Niki Caro) and white producers and writers, it is also that it had native Chinese producers, and that is strange because, as we’ve already established, native Chinese people do not like Fa Mulan. They do not share her values at all. They do not understand her in the way Asian-Americans do, and they frankly never will.
Because… this is very important. This is why Chinese people do not like Fa Mulan at all.
Most native Asian people, by and large, value conformity. They value the status quo. They value family, they value filial piety, they value the greater good. Mulan’s story is all about breaking out of the status quo. It is an Asian-American story. She is not inauthentic, she is not whitewashed, she is merely Asian-American.
And remember this, and keep remembering this the next time you buy Mulan merchandise: Disney only sees Mulan as a Chinese girl. They do not appreciate her for her actual character or themes, and they do not understand why her character resonated with so many people. They do not understand why her movie was a success.
Because, once again, I will remind you… Disney wrongly sees Mulan as an exotic Chinese film. It is not. It is a Chinese-American film, and the reason Disney does not understand Mulan is because it did not hire more Asian-American writers after Rita Hsiao.
Rita Hsiao is the key to Mulan’s success. She was the head writer of the film. It is her name on the screenplay, which you can read here. She wrote an Asian-American story, a story that was intended to be relatable to both American and Chinese audiences.
The thesis, after all of that, is this:
Mulan is a great film because it is an Asian-American movie. Mulan’s character arc about her struggle to both please her family and be true to herself is a particularly poignant one, as many Asian-Americans must live with conflicting values between the Asian emphasis on family and the Western emphasis on individuality.
It was never supposed to be the token Asian movie. At its core, Mulan is a beautiful story about overcoming society’s expectations, about following your heart, about finding the courage to conquer your insecurities and forge your own path.
That’s why, even though Disney will always misinterpret it over and over for decades to come, I find peace in the fact that on June 19, 1998, American audiences everywhere saw Fa Mulan save the day, win Li Shang’s heart, and defeat Shan Yu. American audiences rooted for an Asian woman, they rooted for a Chinese-American coded woman. And they were right to root for her. Because she won.
