park humin (baku) x fem! reader (one shot) | whc 2 â
pairing: park humin (baku) x fem! reader
wc: 3.6k
genre: hurt/comfort, fluff
warnings: usage of y/n, intended lowercase, for storytelling purposes they arenât attending an all boys school, includes a made up non-canon character, unrequited love (gotak/reader) but it has a good ending!
summary: you spend years loving gotak, never realizing that baku was quietly loving you just as fiercely, until heartbreak makes you finally see whoâs been truly choosing you all along.
you, gotak, and baku had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. you went to every basketball match they had, patched up their bruises anytime they got in a fight, devoured fried chicken at bakuâs fatherâs shop, laughing and rambling about nothing in particular. everything felt perfectâexcept for one detail.
you liked gotak. more than a best friend should.
you didnât know when it happened. maybe it was his warm smile that always found you first, or the way he wordlessly draped his hoodie over your shoulders whenever you shivered. maybe it was simply because he was⊠him. all you knew was that somewhere along the way, your heart had picked himâand never asked for your permission.
but he wasnât yours. and deep down, you feared he never would be.
because gotakâs eyes were already following someone elseâkim sooyeon.
sooyeon, the kind of girl people wrote love letters to. pretty, wealthy, naturally perfect at everything she touched. class president. immaculate hair. flawless reputation. the girl everyone admired from afar, and the girl he admired up close.
every time she approached him, even just to tell him something boring like âtell your team that the basketball practice is postponed todayâ heâd practically combustâchoking on rice, blushing to his ears, acting like a wind-up toy with failing batteries.
he never reacted like that with you.
and then came that afternoon on the court. you watched baku and gotak shoot hoops, the usual clang of the rim echoing across the gymâuntil gotak stopped, breathless, determination flashing in his eyes.
âiâm going to confess to her tonight.â
you choked on your strawberry milk so hard baku thought you were dying.
sure, you knew he liked her⊠but confess? to her?
part of you wanted to protest, to grab his arm and say âwhat about me?â
but another partâthe part terrified of losing him altogetherâstayed silent.
and maybe, just maybe, a small, shameful corner of you hoped sheâd reject him, so you could still pretend you had time to shoot your shot with him too.
so you let him go.
not knowing that your silence would have consequences.
and while you were drowning in your feelings for gotakâŠ
someone else was drowning in theirs for you.
baku.
heâd fallen without meaning to. quietly, stubbornly, painfully. he listened to every rant that you had about sooyeon, memorized the way your face twisted whenever gotak talked about her, watched you adore someone who didnât even see you.
and he said nothing. because being your safe place mattered more to him than being your choice.
until the group chat lit up.
hyuntak.
gotak: GUYS
gotak: she said yes
gotak: SHE SAID YES
gotak: weâre going on a date rn
gotak: i guess i have a girlfriend now????
gotak: hurry up and find someone too so we can go on triple dates đ
gotak: ttyl!
the world tilted.
your breath locked in your throat.
you didnât respondâyou couldnât.
the tears came before you even realized, hot and relentless, blurring everything around you. your heart felt like it had folded in on itself.
then your phone rang.
baku.
you answered, but all he heard were your muffled sobs.
âhey,â he said softly, voice warm enough to wrap around you âi figured⊠you might need company tonight. iâm bringing chicken. and your favorite strawberry milk. iâll be there in fifteen. just open the door for me, okay?â
you didnât even know what you said to him, just some incoherent mumbling, but he understood it as a yes.
and exactly fifteen minutes later, baku was at your doorâhair messy from running, a plastic bag in one hand, concern in his eyes.
you opened the door with red eyes and swollen cheeks, and something inside him cracked.
he loved gotak. but in that moment, he was furious with himâfor being blind, for hurting you without knowing, for getting with a girl who wasnât even trying while the one who cared most was left breaking apart.
he stepped in without a word.
set the chicken on the table.
offered you the milk like a peace treat.
and sat beside you as if heâd been waiting to catch you for years.
sometimes he talked. sometimes he didnât.
but he stayed.
and in the quiet, you didnât notice the way he watched youâlike you were the only thing in the world worth choosing.
you and baku sat in silence for a long time, the soft hum of your room the only sound between you.
your strawberry milk was half-finished, the chicken untouchedâits warm smell only making the ache in your chest worse.
baku stayed close but careful, his hand moving in gentle circles on the small of your back. it was awkward and comforting at the same timeâhe didnât really know what to do, only that doing nothing felt worse.
he could make you laugh on any normal day.
but this wasnât a normal day.
so he didnât joke.
didnât tease.
he just sat there, steady and warm, making sure you didnât have to fall apart alone.
after a while, your voice finally cracked through the quiet.
âyou know, huminâŠâ you didnât call him baku. you rarely used his real name unless you were hurting and he knew that. his hand paused on your back, just for a second.
âdo you know what hurts the most?â you whispered, eyes glued to the floor. âitâs not even that he chose someone else. itâs that he chose her. sheâs always the one everyone picks. for everything. she gets everything so easily and iââ your voice trembled, and you buried your face in your sleeve, trying to wipe the tears that kept coming âi try so hard. i really do. but iâm never the one.â
the words slipped out, raw and shaky, and for a moment even the silence felt sad.
baku stared down at his hands. his usual grin was goneâcompletely. when he finally spoke, it wasnât loud or playful. it was soft, almost shy, like he was afraid of the truth spilling out too fast.
âyou are.â
he swallowed once, still not looking up.
âyou are the one to me, y/n.â
your breath caught.
your tears stopped for a beatâjust long enough for you to blink, wide-eyed, turning your head towards him in surprise.
baku didnât move. didnât take it back.
he just sat there, ears turning red, as if confessing something heâd been holding for years without meaning to.
and suddenlyâŠ
his hand on your back felt different.
warm in a way youâd never noticed before.
âw-whatâŠ?â the word barely left your lips.
you didnât even say it fullyâmore like breathed it out.
your whole body went still, like your brain needed a second to process what he just said.
baku looked up then, a small, lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. not his usual cocky, chaotic grinâsomething gentler. something that made your heart skip in a confused, messy way.
âhey,â he murmured, lifting his hands a little as if to say he wasnât trying to scare you âdonâtâuhâdonât freeze up like a⊠like a deer in the headlights. iâm not trying to make this about me,â he continued, voice softer than youâd ever heard from him âi swear. you⊠you donât need that right now. and thatâs okay. seriously.â
his knee bumped yours gently, grounding.
âbut you said youâre never the one.â he shook his head, expression tightening for just a moment. âand iâi couldnât let you think that. not when⊠not when i know itâs wrong.â
you swallowed hard.
he wasnât rambling. he wasnât joking.
this was real.
âi just needed you to know,â baku said, rubbing the back of his neck, ears a little pink âthat there is someone who picks you. no matter what. someone who already did.â
his eyes met yoursâwarm, shy, and heartbreakingly sincere.
âme.â
your breath hitched.
baku panicked immediately.
âb-but! likeâdonât feel weird or pressured or anything! iâm not asking you to date me right now or whatever nonsense.â he waved his hands wildly. âyouâre sad, and gotak is being a totalâuhâjerk.â
âanywayâŠâ he cleared his throat. âyou take whatever time you need. iâm not going anywhere.â
the room fell quiet againâwarmer this time.
after a second, baku slapped his hands on his knees and forced the silliest grin onto his face, trying to break the heavy air.
ânow! letâs eat the chicken before it becomes, uhâŠâ he squinted at the box âbefore it becomes⊠ice chicken?â
âyou mean cold?â you sniffed.
âyeah. that!â he nodded proudly, as if heâd planned the joke.
and somehow, despite everything,
you felt a tiny smile tug at your lips.
baku saw it.
and his shoulders relaxedâjust a littleâlike making you smile, even once, was enough reason for him to breathe again.
two weeks.
thatâs how long you disappeared from school for after that day hyuntak broke the news about his new relationship.
you told your mom you had the flu.
you told baku you âjust needed timeâ even though he knew it was deeper than that.
and yourself you told that you simply could not handle watching hyuntak and sooyeon walk through the school halls giggling like the world was theirs.
so you stayed homeâcurled up in blankets, doing nothing, sleeping too much, thinking too much.
but not entirely alone.
because bakuâŠ
baku didnât let you be.
not in a clingy or overbearing way.
justâpresent.
every morning your phone buzzed with a photo of a notebook page.
baku: hey y/n hereâs what mrs. kang said today i think she said this anyways honestly i wasnt listening much but i tried!!! also look i drew us as chickens đ
the handwriting was tragic.
the doodles were somehow worse.
you stared at one for a full minute trying to figure out why he drew you with three legs.
but you still smiled.
every time.
even when you didnât want to.
after nearly two weeks of hiding, self-pity, overthinking, and bad sleep, you finally woke up one morning and thoughtâŠmaybe i can do this. maybe iâm ready.
so you went back.
the moment you stepped through the school gates, it felt like the world stopped for a second.
people stared, because youâd been gone for a while now, but before you had the chance to panic, someone yelled your name from across the courtyard.
âY/N!!!â
baku practically slammed into you, grabbing your shoulders like he needed to confirm you were actually real and not a hallucination created from too much instant ramen and zero sleep.
âyouâre HERE,â he breathed, eyes widening âyouâre actually here. like in-person-here. likeâlike a human! not on the phone!â
you blinked âdid you think i died?â
âlisten,â he said seriously âi donât trust the universe. itâs very violent.â
you laughed. quiet, unexpected laugh.
and baku didnât look away.
he just watched you, eyes soft in a way you almost missed if you didnât look carefully.
like heâd been waiting for that laugh for a long time.
âdid you⊠umâŠâ he scratched the back of his neck âdid you get the notes? i tried really hard. i think. kinda.â
âi did,â your smile turned shy âthey were really sweet.â
baku brightened up instantly, like a switch flipped inside him.
but then your eyes drifted across the courtyard and you saw them â gotak and sooyeon, holding hands, sharing earbuds, giggling over something on her phone.
the sting was still there.
not as sharp.
but real.
you expected the usual spiral â your chest tightening, your mind running.
except⊠it didnât happen.
instead, you felt something else.
a warm pressure at your elbow.
baku.
he didnât say anything.
but he stayed close.
close enough that you could feel the heat of him, steady and grounding.
and suddenly you realized something terrifyingly gentle â youâd been paying attention to the wrong boy the entire time.
the wrong smiles.
the wrong kindness.
the wrong warmth.
the wrong hands offering comfort.
because the one who showed up for you, the one who noticed when you were breaking, the one who sat with you in silence and didnât run away â was standing right beside you now, cheeks pink, hands fidgeting, trying to act casual but failing miserably.
âuhâŠâ baku mumbled, trying to seem normal âso⊠wanna go to class together? i can carry your bag. or you can carry mine. actually no donât carry mine, thereâs like a dead sandwich in there.â
you laughed again.
and you realized right then that healing didnât look like forgetting gotak.
it looked like noticing baku.
so when he awkwardly reached for your bag, brows furrowed in concentration as if he was doing complex math, you let him take it.
âiâi got it,â he said, voice cracking halfway through. âi am a strong man. very manly. yup.â
âyouâre ridiculousâ you whispered, but there was warmth in it.
âyah, but youâre smilingâ he shot back, proud, like heâd won some invisible trophy.
together, you walked down the hallway â baku swinging your bag like it weighed nothing and acting like he wasnât sneaking glances at you every five seconds.
and just when your heartbeat finally steadied, you stepped into the classroom, gotak and sooyeon had to walk in right behind you.
your smile faltered.
that familiar sting pressed at your ribs.
baku noticed instantly.
before the ache could settle too deep, he leaned down slightly and whispered âhey. iâm here, okay?â
you nodded.
gotak slid into the seat next to you like nothing had changed, dropping his bag and flashing that easy smile that once made your heart sprint.
âhey, y/n. whereâve you been? i havenât heard from you in weeks. you totally missed everything that happened with me andââ
your breath hitched, fingers curled.
that old ache rose too fast, too sharp, and baku saw it before you even did.
in a split second of pure panic, instinct, and zero thoughts, he grabbed the nearest thing off his desk â a piece of milk bread â and shoved it straight into gotakâs mouth.
âEATâ baku barked, eyes wide like a feral cat caught stealing.
gotak choked. loudly.
âWHâ mmf???â he tried to say around the bread, coughing and glaring.
âpractice today,â baku blurted, nodding aggressively âyou need energy. protein. carbs. bread. eat.â
it made absolutely no sense, and yet it made perfect sense to you, because you knew that he did it for you.
you stared at him, stunned⊠then your lips curled into the smallest, softest smile, that was meant just for him.
baku froze.
literally froze.
like you had just cast a spell on him.
slowly the school days blurred into each other, a soft monotony of classes, lunches, and trying not to flinch every time sooyeon brushed past you with gotak in tow.
it was hard at first, painfully hard, but whoever said time heals⊠maybe they werenât lying.
because slowly, almost imperceptibly, the ache dulled.
one afternoon, rounding the corner behind the gym, you caught sight of them.
sooyeonâs hands cupped around gotakâs cheeks as she kissed him, and he kissed her back just as passionately.
a few months ago, that scene wouldâve cracked you open.
but now?
nothing.
not fire. not heartbreak.
just a soft, surprising quiet.
a kind of indifference.
and in that quiet, your mind drifted not to them, but to baku instead.
to his messy handwriting on the notes he sent you.
to how he always walked on the side of the street closest to the cars.
to the way he said your name like it was an instinct, like breathing.
you stared at gotak and sooyeon, but all you could think wasâhow would it feel to kiss baku like that?
the thought hit you so abruptly you nearly stumbled.
your face heated instantly, your hands flying up to your cheeks as if you could physically push the idea out of your skull.
no. nope. absolutely not.
you were not thinking about kissing park humin behind the gym like some drama heroine.
your heart was not racing at the image of his hands on your waist.
you were not imagining the way heâd probably smile into the kiss like an idiot.
your blush only deepened.
yet even as you tried to shake it off, tried to scold yourself into sanityâŠ
the warmth in your chest stayed.
you took a few deep breaths, trying to steady the pounding in your chest.
and then it hit youâhard and clear.
it was your turn now.
your turn to show up for baku the way heâd always shown up for you.
he had been there through every rant, every tear, every moment you mourned a boy who never chose you.
and still⊠he stayed. he loved you quietly and he waited without ever asking you to hurry.
you swallowed, determination rising.
gotak was behind the gym, still in his PE uniform that he wore for their basketball practices. which meant â baku still had to be around the school somewhere. he never went home without gotak.
your first thought â the basketball club room.
your feet moved before you even fully understood what you were doing.
you sprinted through the halls, flung open the club room door, breathless and bright-cheeked.
baku stood by his locker, halfway through buttoning his school shirt again.
he looked up at the slamâconfused at first, then breaking into that wide, stupidly endearing grin of his.
ây/n? what are you doing here?â he teased, wiggling his eyebrows âdonât tell me you barged in hoping to see me shirtless.â
but the moment he saw your expression â serious, nervous, flushed â his smile faltered.
ââŠhey. you okay?â
you closed the door behind you with a soft click.
âhumin,â you said, voice trembling. there it was again. not baku. not the nickname. but his real name.
his breath hitched.
âi⊠i was blind,â you continued, words tumbling over themselves âi kept thinking hyuntak was the only one for me. and the whole time, i overlooked the guy who actually treated me well. the guy who cared about me. the guy who never left.â
baku blinkedâonce, twiceâas if he was afraid to even breathe too loudly.
âyouâre fun,â you rushed on âyouâre charming, youâre kind, you make me laugh, you listenâ and lately i keep thinking about you. a lot. about your smile and your hands and your⊠yourâ â
you stopped.
because you were staring at his lips.
you gulped hard.
âw-what iâm trying to say isâ i like you, park humin. i really like you. not like a best friend, not like some rebound. i like-like you.â
silence.
your pulse roared in your ears.
you barely had time to process the humiliation building in your chest beforeâ
baku took your hands.
gently, almost reverently.
pulled you into him.
and kissed you.
his lips were soft, warm, smiling against yours like he had been waiting years for this exact moment.
one of his hands slid to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, grounding you, steadying you, pulling you until you were melting against him.
when he finally broke away, barely an inch, he whispered against your mouth âtook you long enough.â
you managed a breathless laugh.
and just as baku was about to kiss you againâ
SLAM.
the door flew open.
hyuntak stood there, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, clutching his sweaty PE hoodie.
he stared at you.
then at baku.
then back at you.
ââŠokay,â gotak said slowly âyou two have a lot of explaining to do.â
baku groaned.
you covered your face with your hands.
and somewhere under the embarrassment, pure happiness thrummed through your chest.
because for once â you were the one someone chose. and it wasnât just someone. it was baku. your baku.
BONUS à»ê±:
bakuâs room smelled like fabric softener, testosterone and something vaguely like fried chicken, because of course it did.
you were lying on the floor on your back, hands folded on your stomach, staring up at your boyfriend hovering above you, barely suppressing a smile.
âokay,â baku said, arms shaking slightly as he got into position âevery time i go down, i kiss you. motivation. efficiency. science.â
you snorted.
âthatâs not science.â
âyes it is,â he said, lowering himself for the first push up.
kiss.
âitâs emotional science.â
lower.
kiss.
âalso physical science.â
lower again.
kiss.
âmaybe history too.â
you giggled, and he grinned mid-push-up as if every kiss gave him 100 HP of strength.
after a whileâhonestly, you lost countâhe finally collapsed beside you with a loud groan, rolling onto his back dramatically.
âholy shit,â he wheezed âthatâs the most press-ups iâve ever done. like. ever.â
he turned his head towards you, eyes sparkling.
âwe have to practice this more often. for my health.â
he rambled on, breath still uneven, hands waving as he tried to explain his newfound âtraining routineââbut halfway through, he stopped.
because you were staring at him.
not just staring, but you were giving that warm, gentle, starry look you always used to give gotakâŠ
but this time it was directed at him and him only.
the boy who used to think heâd never be the one for you.
bakuâs cheeks flushed instantly, the tips of his ears going pink.
ây-yahâŠâ he muttered, getting up a little, to sit up properly on his floor, rubbing the back of his neck âyou canât just look at me like that and expect me to not lose my freaking mind.â
you got up as well, crawled over to him, slow and deliberate.
his breath hitched.
and then you straddled him, settling into his lap, your palms on his chest.
âgoodâ you whispered âbecause iâm going to keep looking at you like that for the rest of my life⊠to make up for all the time i spent looking at the wrong one.â
for a second baku forgot how to function.
then his hands flew to your waist and he pulled you down into a kiss, fierce and sweet and overflowing with all the feelings he used to hide.
he kissed you like he was memorizing you, like the years he spent loving you silently were finally being returned to him.
and between kisses, his voice cracked into a breathless laugh âokayâyeahâthis is way better than press-ups.â
fin.
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Summary: Your roommate Peter comes home to your shared apartment late one night, more beaten up than you've ever seen him before. You patch him up and give him a lecture about being more careful; a conversation that leads to you confessing more than you had meant to.
CW: Peter has some cuts & bruises and what not. Mentions of blood.
gn!reader x tasm!Peter Parker (could be any Peter, just pictured it w/ Andrew's)
Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Happy ending!
3.3k words
masterlist
a/n: this is my favorite thing I have ever written. please enjoy, feedback is always appreciated :) <3
It was a cold and cozy October night; your bedroom window was cracked open to let in a nice breeze, and there was a fall-scented candle burning on your nightstand. Youâve spent the last hour or so at your desk, hunched over the English essay you have been working on for weeks, now at the final point where all thatâs left is to go through and check your grammar, substitute some words, and finalize your conclusion. Youâve been stuck trying to find a more essay-appropriate word for âweirdâ for the last few minutes, and are now just about ready to give up and let tomorrow-you deal with it. You drop your pencil and let out a frustrated sigh, running your hands through your hair.
Itâs a Friday night and you had spent the afternoon with Peter cleaning out the fridge and kitchen cabinets. You were glad to have a roommate that didnât make you do all the cleaning yourself; Peter never complained about your insistent need to make sure the apartment was clean at all times.Â
You lift your head up from your hands to glance at the digital clock on your desk, only to find that itâs almost 2 am. A pang of anxiety dissipates from your chest; Peter should be home by now.Â
You decide to ignore the worry before it can grow any larger, trusting Peter and his ability to stay safe, and pick your pencil back up to try and get this damn essay done and over with.Â
âEccentric!â You whisper-yell to yourself, the word you've been searching for the last 10 minutes finally coming to you. And with that, your essay is complete (at least, until you decide at the last minute to re-read it and change just a couple more things...)Â
You smile to yourself, proud that you got done what you wanted to and happy that you could finally get back the book youâve been itching to finish all evening.Â
Right as you sit on your bed, after grabbing the book from your backpack, you hear a rustling noise outside your window.Â
Thatâs odd, you think to yourself, knowing that it could be Peter, but also confused, because he usually comes in through his own bedroom window.Â
Once again, you decide to ignore the distraction and blame it on a possible squirrel, but right as you open your book to the dog-eared page, a knocking sound comes from your window. This time, you know for certain itâs Peter.Â
Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, but you get up to go unlock the window nonetheless, forgetting until you reach it that itâs already open.Â
âItâs open, you can come in,â You say and squint, struggling to see Peter no thanks to the dim moonlight. His face is difficult to make out, but you can just barely see the pained expression painted on it.Â
Peter nods and moves to open the window wider, lifting a leg up to maneuver his way inside. Before he can though, his hand thatâs rested on the windowsill slips and he nearly falls flat on his face into your room.Â
âWhoaa,â you laugh slightly, gently grabbing his arms to help him get the rest of his body inside. He lets out a wince as your fingers make contact with his shoulder, but is able to set both feet on the floor.Â
Now that heâs in the slightly-less dim lighting of your room, you can make out his face - or rather, you can make out the countless scrapes and bruises littering his face and body.Â
Your hand instinctively shoots up to your mouth to cover a gasp, Peter sliding down the wall and to the floor, unable to hold himself up. You crouch in front of him and hover a hand to the side of his face.Â
âHoly shit, Peter, what the hell?âÂ
He lets out a soft laugh, immediately wincing at the pain it causes. âYou should see the other guy,â he grunts, his head falling back as he brings a hand to rest above one of the larger gashes on his abdomen.Â
Your hands hesitate in front of you, not sure whether it would help to touch him, or where.
âPeter,â you decide on letting one of your hands brush just below a slash on his upper arm, but immediately pull back when he sucks in a breath. âI- um, we need to get you to the bathroom. Can you stand?âÂ
He nods slightly, moving his hands to the ground to push himself up, but quickly losing his balance and leaning into you for support.Â
âOh my god,â you whisper to yourself; Peter has come home beaten up before, but itâs never been this bad.Â
âHere,â you say to Peter, cautiously moving your arm around his waist, âUm, put your arm around my shoulder. Come on.âÂ
You do your best to help him to the bathroom across the hall, stumbling a few times on the way and having to pause just once so Peter could lean against the wall and catch his breath. Heâs really beaten up and you can see that heâs clearly out of it.Â
Once in the small room, you lead him over to the closed toilet seat and help him sit down. When youâre sure heâs situated and know he isnât going to fall over, you rush to the sink cabinet to find the first aid kit you had stashed the day you discovered his secret identity, knowing that it was bound to come in handy to either one of you at some point.Â
Crouching on your knees in front of the toilet, you lay the bag open on the floor and turn your attention back to the wounded boy sitting in front of you.
Peterâs eyes are closed, one of his hands holding his stomach and the other arm trying to brace himself against the wall. His breathing is ragged, and you worry that heâs going to pass out from exertion. Or blood loss, honestly. The only parts of his body that are visible to you are the ones that have been exposed by the massive gashes on his sides, and youâre scared to see what else the red and blue suit might be hiding.Â
âPeter,â you say softly, bringing a hand to brush some of the fallen hair out of his face. âI need you to take your suit off. I canât clean you up with it in the way.âÂ
He nods, raising his head to look at you. The panicked expression on your face isnât hidden as much as you would like it to be, and Peter feels guilty about making you see him like this.Â
You get up once again to help him stand, and he holds himself up using the wall and the cabinet next to him. You gently begin to remove the suit from his shoulders, working down to his waist and finally helping him step completely out of the torn up material. Peter hisses and holds his breath every time the dried blood on his suit is peeled away from his skin, you whispering strands of apologies the entire minute it takes to rid him completely of the spandex. Once his body is completely uncovered aside from his boxers, you help him sit back down, Peter shivering when his skin makes contact with the cold ceramic.Â
You sit on your knees once more and are finally able to take in the severity of his wounds. Tiny scrapes and cuts litter almost every inch of his skin, but even worse are the places where his already scarred skin has split open from whatever monster he was fighting barely fifteen minutes ago. You bite your bottom lip to stop it from quivering and for the first time, doubt your ability to help your best friend.Â
âPeter,â your voice cracks and comes out barely above a whisper. You donât know what you could possibly say to comfort him. There was no way, even with his spider-given abilities, that Peter wasnât in the most excruciating pain of his life right now.Â
âIâm okay,â He whispers back, reaching to hold one of your shaking hands. You let him, and he brings it up to his busted lip, softly pressing a kiss to your palm. âI promise, theseâll heal in a few days. Week tops. Just needs a little cleaning up for now.â Peter looks into your eyes and tries to give you a reassuring smile.Â
You nod, sniffing and wiping off the few tears that have fallen from your worried eyes. You find the cleaning wipes from the first aid kit and begin wiping away some of the excess blood around the probably hundreds of cuts. Peter tries, but fails, to hold in the gasps and near whimpers that escape his mouth.Â
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry. I know, I know, Iâm almost done. Iâm so sorry.â You try to find whatever words you can to comfort Peter and hide how nervous you are, but youâre ultimately unable to hold back the tears that have been threatening to spill since he came through your window.Â
Peter tries to distract himself from the stinging pain of your cleaning by keeping his eyes on your face, but another type of pain invades his chest when he sees you crying and notices how much your hands are shaking. He knows how hard it is for you to see anyone like this, let alone your best friend. He whispers your name and tilts his head to force your teary eyes to meet his own.
âHey, I need you to know that Iâm okay. Iâm going to be okay.â Peterâs hand comes to hold the side of your face and you lean into his touch, nodding but avoiding his eyes. âIâm sorry, I never wanted you to see me like this. I just didnât know what else to do.â His voice breaks at the end of his sentence and you finally look up to meet his eyes and see him crying just as much as you are. Itâs your turn to bring a hand up and wipe the tears from his bloody cheeks.Â
âItâs okay. Donât apologize. Iâm sorry, I just-â You sigh and bring your hands to your own face with a short, dry laugh. âYou have no idea how much you worry me, Peter.âÂ
You look into his eyes, and you start to feel a strange and unwelcome anger and resentment towards him for not being more careful and causing you to constantly have to worry this much. You shake your head in an attempt to rid the thoughts and continue cleaning off a gash on his chest, knowing now is definitely not the time to get mad at Peter, and try and focus on ridding him of blood, at least as much as possible.Â
âYou really just have to be more careful, Pete. And I know that you know your limits, but this,â you say, taking a deep breath and gesturing to his whole body, âit- it cannot be a constant recurrence. What if you get hurt so bad that you have to go to the hospital? I can only help you so much, how do you think youâre going to be able to explain getting this badly beaten up to a bunch of random nurses and doctors?âÂ
You finish cleaning the last wound and take out your frustration on roughly setting aside the wipes, moving onto bandaging as many of the injuries as you could.Â
Peter can tell youâve become a bit frustrated with him now. He runs his fingers through his hair, finally feeling his strength start to come back, both physically and mentally. Â
âY/n, I know that. I promise you, I am careful. This guy just came out of nowhere and I couldnât leave the fight without making sure I was positive that he wouldnât come back. You gotta trust me, I know what Iâm doing.âÂ
You hold back a scoff and look Peter in the eyes again, shaking your head. âI want to believe you, Peter, I really do. But this thing youâre doing is so dangerous, and Iâm scared you wonât realize just how much until itâs too late.â Your voice wavers at the end of your sentence, and you try to focus on how tight to wrap the gauze instead of how much your hands are still shaking.Â
Itâs Peterâs turn to hold back a scoff, despite feeling guilty and a bit embarrassed for the situation he put himself in. âYou donât think I know that? âThis thingâ that Iâm doing is not something I can just give up on, there are people counting on me.â He winces when a piece of gauze catches on a cut on his stomach, and you instinctively whisper an apology.Â
You breathe in a sigh, finishing up with the wrapping and moving onto the smaller lacerations on his arms.Â
âI know, Peter.â Your voice is coming out in a whisper now, not feeling up to arguing this late and with these circumstances. âBut I- a lot of people are counting on you to stay safe, too.âÂ
Peter sighs once more, knowing you have a point. âI know,â his volume matches yours. âIâm sorry. I need you to know that Iâm trying my best, though. Iâm just- Iâm not some little kid that you have to watch over, or like, constantly worry about. I can handle myself.âÂ
Peterâs words stung more than they should have, and you felt an odd pang of embarrassment for caring this much about him. He clearly didnât need it, and maybe this⊠relationship the two of you had didnât mean as much to him as it did to you.Â
You could feel your face flush as you let out a frustrated sigh, setting the now empty bandage box on the floor next to your knee and trying your hardest to not roll your eyes. You decided to use the frustration you felt towards him to cover up your embarrassment, even though you knew he didnât mean any harm by his words.Â
âWhatever, Peter.â You stand up, picking up the wrappers and gauze mess that you had made on the floor. âSorry I care,â you mutter, knowing youâre acting a bit rude, but not caring. How could he not see how much this shit affects you? Worrying about if he will make it home every night, wondering what will happen when he inevitably gets hurt so bad that he needs to be taken to the hospital, thinking about what will happen if he gets so badly hurt that even his healing abilities wonât save him.Â
Peter sighs at your words, hearing you even though your voice was quiet. âCome on, donât be like that,â he braced himself against the wall and stood up, finally getting enough strength back to not need your help. âYou know thatâs not what I meant.âÂ
You shake your head and crouch down to put the first aid supplies away, aggressively shoving the contents into the cabinet under the sink before closing its door a bit harshly.
âI just donât get how you donât see that this shit affects more than just you,â You stand up, looking Peter in the face, your mouth moving too fast, knowing youâre about to say something you regret. âAnd yeah, maybe thatâs a selfish thing to say, but I donât care anymore! I lie in bed, every single night, worrying that youâve gotten yourself into something so terrible that even you canât handle it. And no, thatâs not a stab at your abilities, because believe me Peter, I know you can take on a lot. I know you can handle yourself and donât need me to babysit you. But one of these days, if you keep this shit up, youâre going to get so badly hurt that I wonât be able to help you. Rubbing alcohol and bandaids only go so far, and I know you know that, so what the hell do you expect me to do when that day comes?? You leave me here to worry about you and then come home beaten up almost to the point of being unconscious and expect me just to patch you up and not bat an eye or have an opinion about it. I care about you so fucking much Peter, more than you know, and Iâm sorry if this is the wrong time to be saying this, but I donât know what I would do if I lost you. I-â Your voice broke at the end of your rant, only stopping to breathe in a short gasp, and you turned away from Peter to lean on the sink, forcing your gaze to the floor. You were right; your mouth had moved too fast to stop it from saying the words you had been keeping to yourself for almost a year now. And while a part of you felt awful for yelling at Peter, especially in his current state, you knew if you didnât speak your mind soon you would go insane.Â
Peter just stared at you, mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something, defend himself or make up an excuse, but he was at a loss for words. This⊠confession came as a total surprise to him, and he didnât know what to think.Â
âY/n, I-â He cut himself off, trying to find the right words to say. âI had no idea you-. Iâm sorry,â Peter spoke softly, a stark contrast to the volume you had spoken at, but he was too stunned to give a proper response. Too stunned to say what he really wanted; too shocked to confess that he cared about you too and never meant to make you feel like this- unappreciated and alone.Â
You shook your head, sighing before running your hands over your face as if trying to erase all of the emotions you were feeling right now. Embarrassment, anger, sadness, fear, hurt. And, to make matters worse, you had started crying again without even realizing it. Just another thing that made you wish you could crawl into a hole and never speak to anyone ever again.Â
âItâs fine, Peter. Iâm- Iâm sorry. I didnât mean to-â Again, you shake your head, too ashamed to meet Peterâs eyes. âIâm sorry. Iâm just- Iâm gonna go to bed,â voice barely above a whisper, you reach for the doorknob. The mortification of what you just confessed to your best friend was beginning to wash over you all at once.Â
You blew it. Your whole friendship with Peter? Gone. Might as well have never existed. All because you had to have a stupid fucking crush. God, how could you be so stupid?? You knew he didnât mean to make you worry. And Jesus, he was literally out saving lives every night and here you are complaining that you have to take care of him when heâs hurt.Â
âY/n, wait-â Peterâs voice was still soft, but had a new urgency to it that you almost couldnât ignore. Still, you kept your gaze down, softly shutting the bathroom door and walking as quickly as possible to your room, leaving Peter stunned and helpless in the cold and empty bathroom.Â
Once inside your room, you leaned against your closed bedroom door and covered your face with your hands. It took everything in you not to scream and throw something, anything, at your wall, but of course that would only make things a million times worse - Peter would think you were even more crazy than your speech had shown.Â
Utterly mortified and unable to think about anything else, you turned off your lights and went to bed. Or rather, lied in bed for 2 hours, rerunning your entire conversation with Peter a million times and wishing that you could go back and never say any of the things you did.
a/n: okay!! sorry, that was a long one. I am currently in the process of writing a part 2, let me know of any suggestions you might have :)) It will be a happy ending though, of course, and will hopefully be done within the next few weeks!!
If anyone would like to be tagged when part 2 is posted pls lmk!!
I LOVE YOUUU thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I am very proud of this one!!
xoxo
Could you do tasm! Peter using this prompt from the fluff list: 23. âand who are you to tell me who i can and can't be with?â âi'm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children.â ? I love your writing
Man I Need
Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Summary: Peter crashes your first date after your breakup.
Warnings: Angst (hurt/comfort) + Peter and his stalkerish tendency.
Word Count: 1.9K
Author's Note: Thanks for the request, anon! I know this was from the fluff prompt list, but I did go very angsty. I hope you like it :)
Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more!
TASM!Peter Parker Masterlist
Tonight was your first date since the breakup and Peter was admittedly hurt by how quickly you were getting back out there. A month felt too soon to get back out there, especially when the two of you started speaking again.Â
Maybe it was foolish of him to assume that being on talking terms again meant that the door of your relationship hadnât fully closed, but he couldnât help but cling to the hope that the breakup was only temporary.Â
He knows he deserves the cold shoulder you were giving him now. He had fucked up over and over again, missing dates, movie nights, and small events that you later admitted were a big deal to you. He was a bad boyfriend, and tonight, he was a bad friend.Â
He had no good excuse for crashing your date the way that he did, aside from being a man in love.Â
Was it a bad idea to annoy one of your friends into telling him where you were having your date and then staking out the restaurant from a rooftop across the street? Yes.Â
Was it an even worse idea to abruptly march into the restaurant and insist that you were in grave danger and needed to come with him immediately after seeing your date lean in for a kiss? Yes.Â
It was a terrible idea, one that was barely thought through, and Peter was certain it wouldnât work, but your date bought it hook, line, and sinker and urged you to go with Spider-Man.Â
You did, angrily and hesitantly, mainly due to the number of people staring and taking their phones out to record New Yorkâs resident webhead.
Your heels clicked against the concrete as you brushed past people on the street, eyes trained on the entrance to the subway at the end of the block. âItâs late, princess. Let me swing you home.â Peter pleads, his voice muffled by his mask, his footsteps falling in step with yours.Â
âFuck off.â You snarl, walking down the steps into the subway station with Peter hot on your heels, jumping the turnstile to catch up with you.Â
He follows you down the additional flight of stairs onto the platform, standing beside you as the F pulls into the station. âIâm sorââÂ
âDonât,â you cut off, stepping into the mostly empty cart as the doors open and taking a seat. Peter sits across from you, nodding at the few people who were staring, presumably trying to decipher whether he was the real Spider-Man or one of the many guys who dressed up as him and harassed tourists in Times Square trying to get home.Â
The train ride was quiet aside from the group of drunk college students that laughed uncontrollably for a few stops after one of their friends nearly fell flat on their ass from the train moving.Â
Peter stared at you for the entire duration of the ride. You couldnât say for certain, but you knew when you stared into the reflective lenses of his mask and saw the frown on your face that he was staring back with a similar expression on his face.Â
âYou donât have to walk me home,â you tell him after getting off the train and seeing that he was still close behind you. âShouldâve just taken it to Mayâs house and crash in your old room.âÂ
He presses his hand to the small of your back, nudging you towards the exit. âItâs almost midnight. Youâre out of your mind if you think Iâm letting you walk home alone.â
âI can handle myself.âÂ
âYou can,â he agrees. âBut that doesnât mean you have to. Iâve never let you walk home alone when I was around, and thatâs not going to change now. Even if Iâm not your boyfriend anymore.âÂ
âWell, thereâs a first time for everything.â You mutter, moving towards the exit, shivering when a gust of wind hits you square in the chest once you come up from the subway.Â
âI know youâre mad at me, but Iâm still not letting you walk home alone,â he says, trailing behind you.
âWhatever, Peter.â You mutter, speeding up just enough to make him do a slight jog to catch up.Â
âI know youâre mad at me-â
âNo shit.âÂ
â-But I am sorry.âÂ
âAre you though?â You ask, stopping in front of your door and fishing through your purse in search of your keys. âBecause I donât think you are.âÂ
âMaybe Iâm not.â He admits, wedging his hand in the door before it can shut, following you inside.âIt wasn't exactly enjoyable to watch you go out on a date with some guy who's not good enough for you.âÂ
âHow do you know heâs not good enough for me? You don't even know him.â You counter, turning on the lights, kicking off your heels, and b-lining to your bedroom.Â
âHeâs just not right for you; not the kind of guy you should be with.â He says, pulling off his mask and walking after you.Â
âUnzip me.â You instruct, glancing over your shoulder at him. âAnd who are you to tell me who I can and canât be with?âÂ
You can feel the webbing of his suit over the fabric of your dress as he holds your waist and pulls the zipper down. The material pools at your feet, leaving you standing in nothing but your underwear and stockings. His eyes follow you around the room as you shimmy out of the stockings and slip on an old t-shirt, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of you.Â
His eyes land on the faded graphic of his mask printed in the shape of a heart as you reach under the hem to unclip your bra. âIâm your future husband, and probably, father of your future children.âÂ
âMy future husband? Peter, you arenât even my current boyfriend.â You point out, brushing past him and ignoring the hurt look on his face as you head into the kitchen.Â
âThings can change. I can change.âÂ
âAnd what makes you so sure?â You question while filling your kettle with water and putting it on the stovetop.Â
âAre we just going to act like we weren't building to that? You said it yourself, when you think about the future and who you grow old with, itâs me, not some fucking guy.â His voice is rough but lacks any malice, making it obvious that he is hurt.Â
âThat was before I realized you canât be the man I need.â It was a low blow, and you knew it, but you were far too irritated to stop yourself from holding your tongue.Â
You turn and lean against the counter and catch sight of the way his body deflates and his fall even further. âI can be.â He whispers, his voice cracking. âI know I fucked up and I wasnât here when I needed to be but I love you, Iâm in love with you, and I can work on it. That has to count for something, right?âÂ
He hesitantly approaches you, putting his hands on either side of you, caging you in. âI can be the man you need, I can be anything you want me to be.âÂ
âPeteâŠâ you say softly. âI canât do this a second time. I love you, I do. I think Iâm always going to love you, but I canât be in a relationship with someone who doesnât prioritize me. Iâm a constant for you and I was more than happy to be that but you aren't that for me, or at least you havenât been in a long time. I just want someone in my corner who I know will be there when I need them, not just when they need me.â
His heartache in his chest as you acknowledge the main fault in your relationship: his inability to show up for you when you needed him. âIâm so sorry.âÂ
âI know.â The bite in your voice had fully disappeared, your anger simmering and solidifying into the familiar sadness you felt when thinking about the fallout of your relationship. Peter was far from a bad person; he was just a man who was constantly spreading himself thin and often failed to juggle his responsibilities and relationships with being a hero.Â
âI can be better,â he insists, moving his hands from the countertop to hold your waist.Â
You rest your head against his chest. âI canât do this again. I donât have it in me to be as understanding as I used to be. I know the city needs Spider-Man, but sometimes I just need my boyfriend, and I donât want to go down this road again if itâs going to be more of the same.âÂ
âIt wonât be.â He says quietly, rubbing your back slightly. âI can be dependable. I can be there for you. All I need is a chance to prove it.âÂ
âI canât do another empty promise, Peter.â You say quietly, gently pushing him back when the kettle whistles. âI canât pick up where we left off and white knuckle my way through life because you canât make me a priority. You said you're my future husband, the future father of my kids, but how can you maintain a healthy marriage and be a present father if being a good boyfriend is such a challenge?âÂ
His shoulders sink, and he goes quiet, trying to think of a way to show you he could and would change. That he can be the man you need, be present and dependable, be husband material. âWhat if we start over?âÂ
âWhat?â You ask, pausing mid-stretch as you reach for a mug on the highest shelf of your cupboard and turning to look at him.Â
âWhat if we start over. We donât have to pick up where we left off, but we donât have to forget either. We can start over and go slow. I can show you that Iâm capable of being the man you need me to be, and we can rebuild what we had into something bigger and better.â He clarifies, shooting a web at the mug you wanted and handing it to you.Â
âDo you think that would work?âÂ
âI do.âÂ
âWhat if it doesnât and we end up right back where we are?âÂ
âWe wonât.âÂ
You hesitate for a moment but nod. âOkay. We can try again.âÂ
He lets out a sigh of relief, snaking his arms around your waist and holding you tightly against his chest. âThank you.âÂ
You wrap your arms around him, letting yourself relax in his hold. âPlease donât make me regret this.â
âI wonât.â He promises, squeezing you.Â
âHow did you know by the way?â You question, pulling away from him.Â
He raises an eyebrow at you, âHow did I know what?âÂ
âThat I was on a date? You were there the entire time. Kenneth saw you on the rooftop. He thought you were doing a stakeout.âÂ
âOh,â he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. âSasha mentioned that you were going out on a date, and I kept asking about it until she finally relented and told me.â
âOh!âÂ
âYeahâŠbut if weâre asking questions then did you let us stay in contact because you hoped weâd get back together?âÂ
âPartly,â you answer truthfully. âYouâre important to me and I think I just wanted to have you in my life in whatever way I could. But I also didnât want you to think you had nobody to go to if you got hurt by going no contact.âÂ
A bittersweet feeling spreads throughout his chest at your thoughtful and caring nature, even when he had failed you over and over again, you were still standing in his corner. âThank you for thinking of me and being there even when I donât deserve it.âÂ
Get you a man who will deliver your anemia medicine for you, volunteer for gruesome murders for you, set up a nice cozy tent in his massive house for you, conduct medical malpractice for you, recreate the sound of the wind through the trees for you, buy a funeral home for you, make fondue for you, gently hit a guy with his car in the rain for you,
i can just imagine kento eating his wife out, and shes just casually talking about her day.
âoh my god she was so annoying, like she wouldnt shut up- ngh.. kento~ but then she gave me a piece of her chocolate and it was just the bestâ
âyeah?â kento stifles out, voice muffled from eating your cute little cunt.
âfuck~ yeah. ill have to ask her what~ ah..kind it is so you can try it. it was so goodâ shes pulling his hair at this point while she talks about the great chocolate she had.
âfuck you taste amazingâ kento groans, eyes rolling back as he sloppily eats your pussy.
âanyway, OH, i saw the cutest little puppy today ~ fuck kento im cumming- nghhâ
âfuckk yessâ kento moans. âwhat about the puppy baby?â
âoh! yeah, it was a little golden retriever!! it was so fluffy and cute!â she squeals.
âim glad you had a good day honeyâ kento kisses you, smiling.
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