Flirtatious! Hobie Brown Who Can't Help But Lean In Close To Your Ear And Whisper The Sweetest Of Compliments

I fear I have so many little ideas for teen! thanos and nam-gyu. like, i've got so much lore set up for them in my notes. they're just so cute :(( enjoy this little drabble of thanos coming back from a trip to the us!!!

"Why are you looking down like that?"

The taller boy chortled, holding back a childish grin that seemed to be forever plastered across his face. The warm, calloused hand at the nape of his neck, shoving the others head down finally released only to be met with a harsh slap. The purple haired boy whined, holding his pain afflicted hand as if the slap actually hurt.

"Dude- The fuck are you doing? Let go of me." Nam-gyu shoved the other off, finally letting his eyes fall upon his best friend. It had been months since the two had last seen each other. Six months and four days, but Nam-gyu wasn't keeping track, not at all. His dark eyes widened, suddenly aware of just how the other was towering over him, purple tufts of hair flickering in front of the others' eyes as Su-bong tilted his head. Su-bong had to have at least been a whole head taller than him now. What had they been feeding him...

"Fuck, man," Su-bong whined, shaking his hand as he finally straightened, "No need to hit me!" His complaints didn't cease until the other flicked him once again, square in his forehead. This certainly wasn't the warm welcome he was expecting. A playful pout fell across his face. "This is no way to greet your best friend," He pointed towards the other, making his chipped black nail polish rather obvious. In his eyes he hadn't grown much. Sure, his pant legs were shorter, but he figured they just shrunk in the wash. It seemed more reasonable that Nam-gyu might have shrunk.

Unresolved Feelings

Summary: Hobie has been nothing but nice to you, sadly, you can't return the favour Characters/Pairings: Hobie x GN!Reader, minor Gwen x GN!Reader Word Count: 800 Warnings: mention of canon events, death, panic attack, emotional distress, angst

"I can't even look at him Gwen." Your words came out trembling, eyes watering. "I can't look at him or talk to him. I-.. I can't go on another mission with him. I almost got us killed!" Your rambling was never-ending. The look in your eyes sent chills down the young woman's spine. It was something she recognised herself, however not on your face. Dark bags covered your cheeks, pupils small and hair a mess. Your clothes were the same that you wore yesterday, meaning you probably slept in them.

"It's okay. We can talk to Miguel.. He'll understand." She said your name so softly, hands coming to rest upon your shaking shoulders. A hiccup slipped past your swollen lips and you almost started crying again. "I'm sure we can fix this." Gwen offered a sympathetic smile, thumbs wiping away any stray tears that dared to fall down your soft cheeks. "Come on, let's get you in some clean clothes and brush your hair. Then we can go talk to him, okay?" Her words were so sincere and comforting that you couldn't help but be embarrassed about your sudden emotional outbursts.

You nodded.

While getting ready, with Gwen pulling some clothes out for you to put on and helping you brush back your hair, you were completely lost in your thoughts. Hobie came to mind and the memories followed.

Hobie was your canon event. In your universe you worked as a variation of spider-man. Hobie was your best friend, your ride or die, the person you promised to look after no matter what; and you failed him. In a moment of quick thinking where you could have prevented his death, you faltered and instead, he ended up 6ft underground. The memories left a cool shudder running down your spine. Goosebumps formed across your arms and the hair at the back of your neck stood at attention.

"He won't understand, Gwen. This is useless." You spoke quietly, rubbing your face as if that was going to get rid of your eye bags. "This isn't going- you know what Miguel is like! If anything this will make it worse." You huffed through your nostrils.

Gwen just shook her head an rolled her eyes. "You're a pessimist." She sighed softly, squeezing your hand ever so gently. "I promise it will be fine."

Of course, by the time you had made it to Miguel's 'office' you were feeling a little bit better. Gwen had reassured you that Miguel might listen, and you wouldn't have to see Hobie again. Part of that pained you. In fact, part of you longed to crawl right back into his arms as if nothing had ever happened. The thought of simply inserting yourself back into his life flashed through your mind, following by the look on his face as he fell. You couldn't put him through that again..

The conversation went... okay. As okay as it could go. You were now free from any interactions with Hobie Brown. You felt so conflicted. Gwen understood your pain. Seeing such a close friend die and then to be confronted with that same person, but not your own version is traumatizing. The amount of unresolved trauma that comes back is overwhelming; no wonder you were getting no sleep.

On the way back to the lobby you were confronted with this unresolved feeling. The same punk rocker that you had been actively avoiding was marching his way towards you, a slight frown on his hollowed face. Your heart was racing, your head almost spinning. He stood in front of you and yet you couldn't move. Your feet were frozen, eyes staring into the deep brown of his own. You felt like crying again, but nothing came out.

"You've been avoiding me."

His words didn't come out as harsh or controlling, but rather concerned.

"Get out of my way."

"That doesn't change the fact that you've been avoiding me." Hobie said your name in the same way that your version did. Your shoulders shook slightly, head hung lowly.

"It doesn't fucking matter- okay? You didn't do anything! So get out of my way, Hobie!" Your words were harsh. Your tone was conflicting against your thoughts. No matter how much you wanted to run into those familiar lanky arms or playfully flick his chin, you couldn't, because this man wasn't your Hobie. The Hobie in front of you was a stranger. One that you only had superficial feelings too, and one that you could never be nice to.

The pained look he gave you made your heart ache within your chest. He didn't say anything and just stood to the side, taking a step out of your way. Your mouth moved but no words came out. Instead, you forced your feet to move before you did anything that could have been even more stupid than your outburst. You left him standing there with your head now held high in an attempt to seem strong.

Hobie could see through your act. You couldn't fool him.

this isnt an ask, but i just wanted to let you know i love your work SO MUCH like tis just SFOSHERIGURSIUGBESRILBGSLERI

Omg pls this is so sweet!! Making me motivated to finish the 35 drafts I have fr!!! You're actually so sweet anon <33 kicking my feet and squealing!!!

Could I request something angsty? Gwen having to deal with her s/o getting hurt trying to protect her despite them being normal.

I Missed You

For sure!! It's not completely the same, but it definitely works lol I learnt that writing fight scenes is not my specialty but I tried my best <33

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, panic, gender neutral, mention of canon death, slightly graphic depictions of injury, mention of vomit

From the moment you and Gwen started talking there was a connection. This electrical current between the two of you only grew the more you became closer. Hanging out turned into dates and dates turned into staying over at night. You were both helplessly in love with each other. Now it had been a complete year since you had first met, still unknowing of Gwen's alter ego and still helplessly in love with the girl.

Gwen's biggest fear since the death of her best friend, Peter Parker, was losing another loved one. She swore to herself after that day to never let anyone get too close in fear of it happening again. Except, she broke that promise. Trying to keep you safe while hiding her secret identity was a lot harder than she originally thought.

You picked up on everytime she left at night and each time she snuck out of class to do.. well, whatever she did. You weren't sure. You had both been in a class at the time, jotting down notes on quantum theory when the green goblin decided to attack civilians within the vicinity of your school. One thing lead to another, Gwen disappeared from your sight and Spider-Woman swung into action.

Gwen was busy attempting to clear out the surrounding rooms. With the villain throwing his stolen pumpkin bombs, buildings were collapsing and if you got too close you would be vaporized. She usually tried not to get anyone killed or injured during a battle like this, but sometimes it was inevitable.

There was a moment that passed where her eyes caught on to you, lingering slightly as she watched you help others out of the building. You had always been brave.. selfless even. Putting other peoples safety above yours, even in dire situations such as this. The green goblin followed Gwen's line of sight and a sickening smirk came to his features. He unlatched another of the stolen pumpkin bombs from his belt, throwing it just towards you. Far enough to collapse the floor beneath you but not close enough to kill you. He wanted Spider-Woman to suffer.

He wanted his revenge.

The floor disappeared from under you, hands reaching up to grip onto anything that was remotely close. Instead they could only find loose rubble and broken tiled floor; nothing that could be used to hold yourself up. You attempted to call out for help but it was failed. Gwen was moving as fast as she could, but she couldn't reach you just in time.

The sickening crack that filled the room as you landed and the gut wrenching scream that followed it was enough to make Gwen want to throw up. Your heart was racing. Any attempt to get in a deep breath of air was thrown out the window as you attempted to sit up. Your leg, twisted out of shape with the bone sticking out, was tingling. Your mouth went bone dry, heart in your throat. A sharp pain ran down your thigh that was dizzying. All you wanted was to wake up from whatever horrid nightmare this was.

Gwen attempted to call out to you, watching you lay there in your dazed state, unmoving. All you wanted was to keep people safe, much like what she was doing except you couldn't. You didn't have the same agility and ability to shoot webs that she did. It wasn't something that came natural to you as it did to her. Although getting powers from a radioactive spider wasn't a very natural chain of events eithor.

The fight wrapped up quickly, this time the villain had escaped. Spider-Woman was to preoccupied trying to keep you from falling apart.

"It's okay- I've got you.. You hear me?" She said your name again, so soft and sweet that you almost felt sick.. or maybe that was the pain. Oh no. That was definitely the pain.

Gwen's hands lifted you up, one arm looped under your back and the other under your legs. There was a loud whimper as she lifted you, hands clutching at her shoulders. "It hurts." You whimpered, dry tears staining your cheeks.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry. We're going to get you help, okay? I promise."

If it wasn't for your injured state you may have recognized that wavering voice and piercings eyes. But you were so out of it. Your head was thumping and leg was tingling, all you could think of was your injury.

"I'm so sorry I missed you." Spider-woman spoke to you kindly, holding you to her chest as she made her way to the nearest hospital.

"I'm so sorry."

Mountain

Summary: You're sick of being Peter's therapist Characters/Pairing: Peter x Fem!Reader Word Count: 420 Warnings: light angst, use of the word mum once A/N: why are all my old fics so short :((

"I cannot keep doing this for you." Your words started soft. The conversation was inevitable. The lost sleep, stolen from the spider itself, the trauma and consequences that followed were catching up to the both of you. Peter knew it was coming sooner or later.

"I can not keep taking care of you every night. You can't expect this from me." You placed your bag down on the kitchen counter, the contents beginning to fall out.

"I never expected it from you-" He tried to say. Your hands gripped the counter, knuckles white in pure anger.

"But you did! Every single night you came through my fire escape, bleeding out and sobbing, delirious! And single every night I would fix you up. Even when I was sick, or in pain or hurt, I always patched you up. It isn't fair that you expect this from me." Your words came out rushed, heart hammering against your chest. Rough hands touched your shoulders, trying to calm you down but you pushed them away. Your words were finally caught in your throat, a sob bubbling in your chest like an unruly potion in a cauldron.

"I am not your fucking therapist!" You yelled, "I am not your own personal nurse, or your mum!"

Peter stood dumbfounded at your words. There was no going back from this argument, and he knew it. Besides, you were right. He had expected you to help him. He believed that since you were his forever loving and caring partner that you were willing to risk your own mental health over his physical health. Yet, you couldn't. There was no universe where this would end well.

Attempting to reach out once again, Peter exhaled shakily and gently touched your shoulder. "Please..." He spoke, squeezing your joint through the fleece jacket, "I can fix this. I promise, I can fix all of this. Just give me another chance." The brunettes' words were beginning to sound panicked, yet you couldn't care anymore. He was the cause of your emotional turmoil for the past year. You were no longer willing to be the one to bear the consequences of his actions, especially when you were on the brink of your own emotional demise outside of your relationship with the man.

"No," you shook your head, "I'm done."

The corners of your lips turned up in a hateful and tight-lipped smile. Seeing his distraught expression made you feel powerful, your decision to leave now set in stone. Peter felt you slip through his fingers, watching with nothing but helplessness now as you walked towards the front door. Reaching for your keys, you turned back once more.

"Goodbye, Peter."

Sure, Next Time.

Summary: Hobie only comes to you after trouble Characters/Pairing: Hobie x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Blood, injuries, dislocated finger, hurt/comfort A/N: Pls bear with me as I attempt his accent lmao

It didn't necessarily surprise you when Hobie accidentally let it slip that he was Spider-Punk. You could recognize the sticker abused guitar and stressed leather jacket anywhere. What did surprise you was the number of injuries he sustained and how easily he could hide them from you. If he had a limp his excuse was, "Tripped in my boots, luv." Any other injuries he used the excuse of having started a fight with some capitalist douchebag. And you believed it. It was only until he came back for you to patch him up after every battle that you began to truly let your anxiety feed into it.

Hobie had climbed through your window at 2am. The sun was nowhere to be seen, and the moon was shrouded in clouds. You had become a light sleeper as of late, the rise in crime getting on your nerves and preventing that precious rest you craved.

You woke up at the sound of those familiar heavy boots against your tiled floor. Squinting, you recognized the familiar shadow of a certain spider-man, or at least the shadow of the spikes on his head. "Hobie?" You reached to turn on your bedside lamp. Tired eyes squinted as the warm light enveloped the room. Your voice was scratchy from having been woken up at an ungodly hour. Your hair was all over the place, strands in front of your eyes and sticking out in ways that you didn't know it could. You thought this was a dream with how Hobie had frozen like a deer in headlights at the end of your bed.

Hobie thought he could just slip in and out, weaving his way to your bathroom and taking a couple of bandages for his trip home. He was wrong and now look at him. He had barely made it to your house in one place and there was no doubt that he was not making it back to his own. All his weight was on his left leg, he was using a web connected to your roof as leverage to keep him upright. You could see a dark stain seeping through his mask just above where you assumed his left eyebrow to be. You suspected there to be more than what you could see through his mask but would have to wait until you finally got him to the bathroom sink to find out.

The corners of his lips turned up as he watched you struggle to untangle your legs from the bedsheets. "Need some help, luv?" A shit eating grin adorned his face, but you couldn't see it. Even when he was injured, he still managed to make your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just fine." You huffed, finally finding the floor against your feet and taking steady steps towards the injured man. You didn't see him using your roof as leverage and silently cursed yourself for taking so long. "You better not pull out my roof with that web. Otherwise, you'll be the one dealing with my landlord." You huffed only half-joking. Humour seemed to be your coping mechanism. "Don't get all funny on me now, luv." He chuckled, sounding worn out and in pain. You helped him through your mediocre apartment, having draped his arm over your shoulders and letting him rest his weight against you as you walked (stumbled) to the bathroom.

With a slight huff through your nose and grunt that you wished was silent, Hobie was now sitting on your toilet, the lid shut. He was too tall when he sat on the sink (you found that out the first time he came over) and well, you didn't have much room up there to begin with. You crouched to the cupboard below your sink. In a Spider-Punk themed box (made by you to tease Hobie) was a consistent supply of bandages, disinfectant wipes, alcohol wipes, splints, etc. There was everything you could think of that someone would need when injured. You made this box not long after the first time Hobie came back with blood dripping from his forehead, and you didn't have anything to help. That night was filled with gentle apologies and worried glances.

"Can you take the mask off, Hobes?" You mumbled, having pulled the box onto the sink. You turned to watch him, tired eyes noticing just how he flinched when he moved his arms to push the mask over his head and tossing it to the floor. His hands were trembling, one of his fingers looking to be the slightest bit out of place. The cut above his eyebrow was bleeding profusely and it looked as if part of his piercing had been pulled on.

"'s not as bad as it looks." His hands gently moved to rest on your hips, eyes glancing towards the worried look on your face before moving to the roof. "Not as bad as it looks. Baby, you've probably got a concussion... No, you've definitely got a concussion." You mumbled, hands already digging into that spider-punk themed medicine box. You managed to pull out some baby wipes and a few alcohol wipes. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, heart thumping in your ears. Your hands came up to caress his face, taking a baby wipe to gently wipe the blood dripping down his face. There was a visible wince and a hiss of pain that came from the touch. Hobie's long fingers gripped the fabric of your pyjamas.

"I'm sorry, Hobie..." you muttered, trying to be as gentle and careful as possible. Once the cut was cleaned and a bandage was placed over it, it was time to move to his finger. "I'm even more sorry about this. We're gonna need to put it back in place, okay?" You were kind of glad you took that health course in high school now.

Hobie let out a groan, too tired to respond with words, but it was clear he was not looking forward to it. His hands released their grip on your hips and instead were placed in your palms. "Okay, we're gonna count to three and I'll put it back in. That good, baby?" You asked.

The suspense was killing Hobie, he was already in pain as it was. He's had dislocated digits before, so he understood the importance of getting the limb back in its socket as soon as possible, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. He nodded. "Yeah, okay." He hummed in response. Except you didn't even count. You waited until he spoke up and quickly pushed the digit back into its socket, earning a muffled (still loud) groan of indescribable pain. "I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry. It's over now." You apologized, wrapping his swollen wrist in a compression bandage. The tears brimming in his eyes and the sick pop of his finger had you feeling queasy. You felt your stomach flip and not in the usual happy way it did when Hobie was around. However, you pushed the feeling aside, hands resting on his cheeks as you leaned in to press a small kiss just to the left of his bandage.

"Let's get you to bed..."

After finally fixing up his injuries the two of you had found yourselves lying in bed. Hobie was next to you, one arm drapes over your stomach, the other resting under his head. His lips brushed against your cheek.

"I worry about you. About what you're doing." You spoke quietly, glancing back into his eyes for a moment. "I know it's for the greater good, but seeing you come home in the middle of the night half dead every day is- It's not nice." You rambled quietly before finally going silent.

He huffed through his nose, although it wasn't angry. "I know, luv. Gonna give you a heart attack one day." he joked, pressing his lips to your temple. "I love you." The words came out quiet, barely leaving his lips before you turned to face him.

"I love you too, Hobes. But next time you get a dislocated finger just go to a doctor. I literally felt sick from that." You mentioned, earning a small nod and a deep chuckle.

"Sure... next time." He mumbled in response, closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you securely. There was no need to worry about the outside world as long as you were in his arms.

Accidents Happen

Summary: Hobbie's medusa piercing gets stuck on your septum ring after a more heated make out session Characters/Pairings: Hobie x GN!Reader Word Count: 447 Warnings: minor mention of claustrophobia, panicked reader, reader has a septum piercing A/N: no one can tell me Hobie wouldn't look hot af with a medusa

"Oh my god.. Hobie. Hobie it's stuck." You words came out rushed and almost slurred, lips swollen and bruised from the harsh kisses your boyfriend had given you just seconds before. The once passionate moment was beginning to fizzle into nothing more than a dying ember at the bottom of a fire pit. You knew you should have flipped up the jewelry embedded in your septum and now, here you were with Hobie Brown literally stuck to your face.

"When people joked about you being stuck to me, didn't think you'd take it seriously, luv." His words came out teasingly, hands still gripping your hips. With a gentle squeeze of his hands he leaned in the slightest bit to close the small gap between your lips. "No. Hobie- it's.. it's actually stuck." As much as you loved the intimate way in which he was so close, you were also beginning to feel claustrophobic.

Your face heated up, cheeks going red and breathing becoming the slightest bit more rapid than your previous panting. Hobie's thumb caressed your cheek. "Lovely, it's okay. Take a deep breath for me, yeah? I'll get you out of here." His words were comforting.

You took one deep breath in, held it for four seconds and slowly exhaled. He glanced at your eyes and then to your nose, seeing just how tangled you really were. The slightest movement would tug on the silver jewelry between his tip lip and nose.

"m just gonna bring my hand up to your face, 'kay?"

He knew it wasn't going to help your panicking, but now that you were slowing your breathing he was more confident in his decision. Long fingers came between your noses. He brushed against yours, smiling a little when he noticed that sweet look in your eyes. In a few swift movements he had unscrewed the ball of his medusa, catching it in his free hand. He pulled back slightly and was quick to put the ball back on, not wanting it to get lost.

"That's better, innit luv?" He grinned mischievously.

"Much better. Thank you, Hobie." You sighed softly, feeling a lot freer than a few seconds ago. His hands began to move back to your hips. You flipped your septum ring up into your nose and giggled quietly at the gentle strokes of his thumb against your waist. "Let's get back to what we started, hm?" Hobie suggested, leaning back into your lips.

Touch starved! Hobie loves to have his hands on you. His hand might be on your hip, in your back pocket, fiddling with your ring finger, etc.

Touch Starved! Hobie who doesn't care who sees him kissing your neck, marking and biting just to get any taste of you.

Touch Starved! Hobie who leans in every time you pull away. Your touch lingers against his cheek, leaving soft sparks against the tinted skin.

Touch Starved! Hobie who lets you do his eyeliner because he loves the feeling of being close to you. Having you in his lap with his eyes closed and the most dazed look on his face. He's in heaven.

Touch Starved! Hobie who sprays his pillow with your perfume because he finds your scent so attractive.

Touch Starved! Hobie who's always got his arms wrapped around your waist from behind when standing around HQ. No one has ever seen you two apart, you're practically attached at the hip now.

Touch Starved! Hobie who is desperate for any touch you're willing to give him no matter if it hurts...

The Devil Wears Yellow

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5???

Chloe could not stand you. Over the past month that you had been attending the same school as her, she had grown a rather distinct hatred for you, stemming from the relationship blooming between you and Adrien. She noticed the sweet smile on your face every time you spoke to him, the way your fingers seemed to brush when he would lean over to your side of the desk. She could distinctly remember the way you elbowed him in the side for trying to copy your answers, his bashful laugh as he searched for an excuse of his copying. It was infuriating and unfair. Her thoughts were suddenly cut off as an unexpected voice called out to her. 

"Madame Chloe, the car is waiting for you," Chloe's butler, or as she called him 'Jean-whatever-your-name-is', alerted the girl from behind her bedroom door, his knuckles wrapping against it with a gentle knock. 

The blonde girl let out an obnoxious groan, yanking her yellow jacket on over the top of her black and white striped shirt. As overly dramatic as usual, she shoved the door open, ultimately pushing the poor man down and storming to the front of the hotel. She got in the white limousine and left for school.

~~~

The next day started the same as all the others. You struggled pulling yourself out of bed, showered in cold water despite how much it made your joints ached and then returned to getting dress. Today you wore a knee brace on your right knee, favouring your left more than usual. You were yet to notice the effect that the miraculous had on you outside of your hero persona. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge you didn't bother waking your parents to say goodbye. Reaching for your bag as you stood just in front of the front door, you took one look back into the house before you simply left, not giving the house a second look. You were starting to grow tired of the same routine. Waking up, leaving the house with no goodbye, going to school and then returning to a battle against an akuma that you weren't even allowed to fight yet. Part of you wanted to get your hands dirty, aching and yearning for the adrenaline that would rush through your system whenever there was a slight mention of a supposed akumatization. 

While the walk itself wasn't long, it felt as if it took an hour. You were tired from the nights work. Akuma's had become rare, and you were still yet to properly face one without just lending the occasional hand of whisking away surrounding citizens so they wouldn't get hurt. With each day that had passed you had easily memorised the walk to school, rarely needing your own mind to take you there when your legs already knew the way. Letting your feet guide you, your mind started to wander a bit.

The truce you made a few weeks back flashed through your mind. You hadn't really interacted with Chat Noir since then, but you were sure something had changed between the two of you. You recognised his small glances towards you, instead of being greeted with sharp eyes, they were more curious. Although he was still jealous of you, envious of the attention you received from Ladybug, you were proud to say that you no longer thought that the feline heroine hated you. Your last patrol together was the night before. He didn't speak much, but when he did, it didn't seem to come out as harsh as usual. He was a strange boy, that was for sure. 

Not realising that you'd already made it to your class, you almost walked into the door. Shaking your head, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. What you were yet to notice was the blonde girl standing next to the doorway, her foot sticking out just enough to make contact with your ankle. The connection sent you tumbling to the ground with little to no witnesses other than Sabrina. Your water bottle rolled across the hardwood floor. The blonde smirked down at you. She found an empty joy in watching you crumple to the floor, falling to pieces from such a simple manoeuvre. 

"Whoops!" she feigned shock, "Maybe you should watch where you're going next time, foreigner." The smirk on her face made you feel sick. For the first time in years, you felt humiliated. You didn't have the time to process the hurt that you felt, both physically and somewhat mentally. Putting on a brave face, you pulled yourself to your feet, favouring your left side to the point your leg buckled slightly under your weight. "Listen, I don't understand what I have done to you that makes you believe tripping me over is the answer," you began, "I'm sure there's a good person inside that heart of yours." 

Your words made her crystal eyes widen momentarily. They seemed to hit a vulnerable spot within her, but as soon as it came to her it disappeared. "You don't know what you're talking about. You are ridiculous!" She huffed, easily hiding the slight pang of guilt she felt under a snobby mask. Sabrina looked at you, her eyes were the window to her soul. Guilt was plastered on her face, leaking from her pores with every second she stood near you. Yet, the girl did nothing to defend or help you. She simply pulled her head down and held Chloe's books tighter to her chest. You never liked being forgiving, but you would have forgiven the two with a simple apology or explanation even if it wasn't to your standards. You rolled your eyes, moving from the door to place your bag next to your desk in its usual spot. Gaining no reaction from you, Chloe left without sparing a second glance, practically dragging Sabrina out by the wrist. 

You regretted coming to school so early. Tears threatened to fall as you finally let the weight of the situation fall upon your shoulders. You truly couldn't think of what you had done to Chloe. In fact, it wasn't until today that you had properly spoken before. Taking in one last shaking breath, you wiped your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. There was no point in letting her words or actions get the better of you. If you were to be akumatized, who knows what would happen. Rolling your right ankle under the desk you bit down on your bottom lip. She didn't sprain your ankle, but it definitely left you with a jolt of pain when you moved. You hoped it would go away on its own, not needing the extra pain when your knee was already burning. 

The opening of the door pulled you from your thoughts. Quicky wiping your eyes, you scrambled to pull your textbook from your bag. Your hands shook from the previous interactions, almost making you drop the pencil you held.

Curious eyes stared down at you as the young man made his way to his seat. He sat down next to you, flashing his usual friendly smile. He spoke your name, and you finally looked up. Graced by the solemn look on your face, Adrien frowned. The two of you had grown rather closer over this last month, exchanging numbers and often riding home together. He knew to an extent the struggles you faced each day, but he had never seen you look so disappointed and dejected. 

"Are you alright?" 

The words hit you like a harsh wave, stinging as it crashed against your warm skin. Instead of answering, you simply sighed. Although the desire to understand the situation, to ultimately make you feel better, burnt deep within the core of his chest, Adrien hesitated. He nodded. "I understand. I'm here." His warm palm brushed against your shoulder once again, however instead of pulling away like you typically did, you leaned into it. 

The blonde boy's eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat. He had never really had such a seamless interaction with the someone. The warmth of your shoulder spread throughout his palm, coursing through his veins as if it were his own blood, his lifeline. His reaction didn't go unnoticed to you, although you were much too busy sulking about the previous situation. A heavy distaste for the rich girl sat in the pit of your stomach. Not even Adrien could pull you out of that hatred.  

~~~

The day was over almost as soon as it begun. After your little interaction with Adrien earlier, he had promised to take you to the park after school. His simple excuse to his father, with the bribery of his bodyguard, was that fencing practice just so happened to be running late. It was the entire reason you were walking next to him, chortling at the jokingly snide comment he had made about the ladybug pin on your bag. You could only assume he was joking. 

"What? Do you really believe that Chat Noir is better?" You rose a brow, simply teasing the other. The look of pride that flashed through his eyes made your playful façade falter. You shook it off as nothing, the small upturn of his lips distracting you from your own scepticism. There was something about his little scoff that made your stomach flutter. It felt so familiar, yet at the same time so out of reach. You chalked it back to another time you had hung out, maybe you had heard him scoff that way when he drove you home? You shook your head and turned your attention towards the taller boy. 

He rolled his eyes slightly, a sight you didn't see often under the guise of his bodyguard. "Of course! He's so much cooler than Ladybug and Clementine," that made your eyes widen, "Plus, his cat puns are hilarious. I just don't get how you can't see that." The boy shrugged. Adrien had completely dissed your alter ego straight to your face. You kept your reaction hidden deep. Perhaps the next time Clementine had patrol, they might pay a visit to the blonde boy and teach him what true humour was. You nudged him with your elbow as you both walked along the cement path. You still limped from the earlier incident, but it luckily didn't hurt as much as it typically did. "Clementine is the coolest, thank you very much! And Ladybug can literally repair everything with some like, magical ass words. How is that not cool?" 

Adrien blushed, the tips of his ears flushing red as you nudged him. He wasn't entirely sure why he felt like this. He assumed it was because you were good friends. Yeah... that was the reason. 

~~~

Your debate lasted until you two found yourself in front of your home. It seemed cold, most likely due to your parents being in their own separate places. Ever since you began to manage your won diagnoses, they began to lay off of you a bit. What used to seem overbearing and protective had turned into minimal interactions and borderline neglect. 

Turning to face Adrien, you offered him a sweet smile. "Thank you... For today, I mean. This meant a lot." You weren't lying when you said that. The whole interaction with Chloe had left you rather down in the dumps and it seemed he was the only person to truly pull you out of it. He returned your sweet smile with a boyish grin of your own. The way you looked at him in that moment with nothing, but pure gratitude and care made his heart race dangerously fast. 

He shook his head quickly, golden locks flickering in front of his eyes before settling to frame his face. He was always picture perfect. "It's what friends are for." Those words stung, but once again you were dumbfounded as to why. Adrien held your bag out for you to grab, you couldn't remember when he had taken it, but you were grateful, nonetheless. Muttering another soft 'thank you', you let your fingers linger on his. The soft caress of his plush skin against you had your mouth running dry. Quickly pulling away, you finally spoke up.

"Call me when you get home." 

You left no room for an answer, gripping your bag so tight that your knuckles had shifted from their usual flushed colour to a pale white. The door shut and you retreated to your room. 

Adrien stood outside of your house; his mouth slightly open with unsaid words. That was uncharacteristically odd, but he simply assumed you didn't want your parents to meet him. He was understanding of the relationship you held with your parental figures, so he didn't plan on pressing anytime soon. Instead, he began his way home, the only though on his mind being the way your fingers left a lasting spark in his palm. 

Word Count: 2151

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