Drabble Prompts - Tumblr Posts

Person A *revising science*: What are the three types of radioactive decay?

Person B *reading fanfiction*: Alpha, beta and omega

Person A:

Person B: What?

Person A *trying not to laugh*: You just said omega

Person B: Sh*t! GAMMA! I MEANT GAMMA!

You know what? I'll do it too.

Expect one daily SFW Death in Boots drabble (exactly 100 words) for each prompt posted on my AO3 account when the event starts.

Happy Pride Month, everybody!

What are you going to do for pride month?

this

Every Part.

Prompt(s):

84. “Yeah, well, I shut everybody out. Don’t take it personally, it’s just easier that way.”

Pairing(s): BestFriend!Namjoon x Reader

Genre(s): Angst, Fluff (maybe just a little)

Summary: Joon hasn’t seen his best friend Y/N in a while, even skipping their daily morning coffee dates. Deciding to check on her, he finds there may be more than a supposed ‘cold’ keeping them apart. How do you love someone that’s too afraid to be loved?

Warning(s): some allusion to toxic relationships (romantic and platonic), fear of being vulnerable, depression, ptsd

Word Count: 3k

It wasn’t like you to skip out on daily morning coffee. In fact, you had been quite vocal about it being the only thing to get you through the day; the dismal clouds parting above your head as the caffeine descends your throat and warms your veins in a way that can only be described as pure euphoria. Then, there was also Namjoon’s more than satisfactory company, to which he would counter is better than any warm drink could ever be and you didn’t have the heart to convince him otherwise.

These were two things, two whole things, that gave you reason to get up in the morning despite the ache in your soul and the dull stab in your heart. So why were you making yourself more miserable by denying yourself even that smallest bit of sanctuary?

It’s an easy question to ask and a frustratingly difficult one to answer. In retrospect, shouldn’t you be elated to have a wonderful escape, though minute as it was, from the never ending war of thoughts in your mind? Namjoon is your best friend, admittedly only friend, and he’d never wronged you in any way, shape, or form. In fact, he always understands your silent breakdowns and internal battles, never once questioning or judging. And yet, here you are, not only punishing yourself, but punishing him as well.

A light buzz interrupted your thoughts, pressing pause on the inner monologue to turn over in your disheveled bed. Pushing the covers away from your face, you grab the device discarded on the bedside table. Thinking back, you should’ve just turned the thing off if you didn’t want to talk to him, but even after ignoring him for the last six calls and messages, you couldn’t find it in yourself to completely cut him off.

Even in the darkest recesses of your mind, tainted by evil thoughts, a piece of you reached forward, searching for the tiny light of Namjoon despite the protests from the negative space. He is reminiscent the sun, whether you hate or love it each day, it’s always there, just like him.

Joonie💜:

-I know you don’t feel up to anything today, but please take care of yourself. I’m a call or text away if you need anything❤️

In spite of yourself, you crack the slightest smile at the message. Being the first one you’d opened in the last 3 hours, you were both relieved and regretful. You know Joon would never impose or push you to share the thoughts and feelings that plague your soul. You’d simply waved his concern off with a small fib of a cold keeping you from your daily routine.

A part of you knows his earlier messages may convey his suspicions of the sudden ailment, but seeing this last one, he’s either finally accepted it or just doesn’t want to pry. It’s the knowledge of the false truth, as simple as it may seem, that sends a swirl of upset through your gut.

You and Joon are as close as close can be and one thing you promised each other was to always be honest. Truth is incredibly important to Joon, important to you as well, and yet, the urge to indulge in this cardinal sin of your friendship won over.

It felt like an awful pattern, one you have been desperate to be free from. No matter how hard you try move on from the past, the negative thoughts, the toxicity of it all, it seems like it always follows, attracted as if centered in your own gravitational pull.

It was the smallest thing that set it off, a grain of sand in a vast ocean that sent tidal waves the size of skyscrapers crashing into your resolve. A simple brush of a hand pulling forth images of past events once thought forgotten. A black and white silent film of horrors replaying over and over again no matter how many times you tried to turn it off.

A glimpse of your father leaving you and your mother in tears, a flash of your first real boyfriend breaking your heart, a shot of your once best friend using those darkest secrets against you. Every person you’d ever been close to in life had found a way to inflict pain. The constant sting of the knife as you let your walls down only made them rebuild higher each time.

It was pure accident you’d managed to let Namjoon in in the first place, and he rooted so well behind those walls you’d thought it would all be different this time. No one had ever stayed this long, been real and honest this long, made you truly happy this long.

And no matter how many times you told the monster in your head that ‘he’s different,’ ‘he’d never do that to you,’ ‘he really cares,’ it reminded you just how many times those same things had been uttered of others. A father would never do that, yet he did. The seemingly love of your life was different from him, and yet he wasn’t. Your best friend truly cares, but she really didn’t. You’ve always been proven wrong; painfully and wholly wrong.

Instead of waiting around for Namjoon to prove himself just like them, deciding to cut your losses before the blow could build felt like the better alternative. To see him turn into the mold of everyone who hurt you before, you decided, would be worse than pushing away and cutting all ties. Instead of waiting for the impending heartbreak to crash into you, you’d drive into it head on and get it over with.

The worst part is the lie. Not the little white lie of a cold, but the lie that he believes you’ll come back to him. That this ‘cold’ will run it’s course and you’ll both be back to the way it was. You’d meet at the coffee shop on Main and he’d walk you home and spend the rest of the day chatting and laughing like normal; everything would be okay. He was none the wiser that those days were over; that you’d be gone from his life without any explanation.

It hurt. More than anything you’d ever felt before.

The last rays of sunshine filtered through the blinds hanging dully in the windows for mere seconds before disappearing behind the dark cast of the night sky.

You still hadn’t left the bed.

Just as you were about to close your eyes and give in to the sweet release of sleep, a knock reverberated throughout the tiny apartment. Your phone had long since died and you felt no urge to revive it, the forewarning of a late night visit unbeknownst to you. Eyes focused on the ceiling, you waited for the silence to span enough time to signal their leave, but the knocks only repeated, almost urgent this time.

The lack of food, water, and movement from the day spent wallowing in bed hazed your mind, and after what felt like the hundredth knock, you rose stiffly from the covers. Joints hissing and cracking as you engaged in the first bit of physical activity in the past 24 hours, you almost tipped over as the blood quickly rushed to your head, making it spin.

Not being able to form any fluent or cohesive thoughts, you wandered aimlessly through the dark apartment until reaching the door handle. You didn’t even bother peeking through the peephole, simply pulling the door until it jerked back from the still-latched chain and squinted out into the bright hallway.

Your eyes immediately adjusted to stare into the dark pair of eyes of the person you’d vowed to quit cold turkey. As he took you in, his face paled, features dropping as if he was staring into the face of death.

“I know you want to be alone right now, but please, don’t shut me out.”

His voice was hoarse, choked with emotions your fogged brain couldn’t comprehend. Refusing to lift the latch and allow him entrance, you stood still, not sure how to react, as your brain slowly processed what was happening.

Namjoon didn’t make any move to force himself inside, to push you to let him in. Instead, he kept your gaze focused on him as he assessed you. Wrinkled sweats and a hoodie that looked like they’d been slept in for multiple days wrapped messily around your small frame. Your hair a tangled, matted nest told him you hadn’t had a proper shower in a while. The skin around your eyes dark purple and sunken in, flesh a pale, sickly hue that scared him.

Namjoon was no fool, he knew what a cold looked like on you, and this was not right. In his gut, he knew since that day, that something had snapped within you.

It started out innocent enough, as he walked you home from the bookstore you’d frequented together. He had carefully brushed his hand against yours, heart aching to slip your fingers into his and hold on tight. Joon hadn’t truly realized his feelings had crossed from platonic to romantic until it hit like a freight train an hour prior.

Standing in the window of the store reaching skywards for a book that caught your eye, he’d graciously grabbed the book for you with a laugh, admiring your effort even though it was much too high. When he chanced a look down at you as he handed off the object of your struggle, he caught that gleam in your eye as you smirked at him. The light of the setting sun formed a soft orange halo that enveloped every curve and dip of your body in a radiant glow. 

He was entranced, watching your fingers flip through the pages cautiously, face warmed by the sun, cheeks tinged an adorable light pink. You looked like an angel sent directly from the heavens above and it stole his breath away.

Namjoon’s friendship with you is his most prized possession. In that moment his heart yearned for more, but his mind told him that if he pushed too hard, he’d lose you. In the simplest of hand brushes, he thought he’d be able to convey to you in a subtle, careful way what he was feeling in that moment, hoping and praying deep down you felt the same.

It all shattered when he saw that gleam in your eyes dim, flushed cheeks devoid of their once healthy glow, as if you’d been touched by a ghost. His heart broke into a million little pieces, sensing deep down he had likely dismantled everything you’d ever built together with the most innocent of gestures.

A needle brought down the entire haystack.

At first, your excuse of illness didn’t perturb him. It wasn’t until day three that he knew his instincts were right; that something more serious was going on. When you ghosted him all day, he thought, for a brief moment, you might be gone. It sent him into a frenzy that led to racing up the steps of your building panicked, pounding harshly on your door until he could confirm with his own eyes you were here. That you were okay.

Only, that wasn’t what was confirmed to him at all once he saw you. Your body may physically be here, but it looked like your soul, your whole being, had dissipated and left nothing but a walking husk in its wake. If anything, seeing you right now only made him all the more terrified.

Namjoon may be your closest friend, but that did not make him privy to your darkest thoughts. One didn’t, however, need to be explicitly told of the sorrows you’d endured, but need only to experience how you interacted with the world around you.

He saw it in the little things, like how you’d shut down after seeing a happy family in public.

Or how the mentions of finding a boyfriend from his friends when he’d managed to get you to hang out would cause you to excuse yourself and avoid contact afterwards.

Most importantly, it was in the way that no matter how close the two of you seemed to get, he was never allowed into the deepest parts of your mind, to let him share the burden or see the truth that lay inside of you.

He had all the warning signs, yet his heart was selfish and greedy, wanting a piece of you he knew you kept locked away, and it was that longing for more that took it all away.

Namjoon would take it back if he could.

“Yeah, well, I shut everybody out. Don’t take it personally, it’s just easier that way.” 

The words slipped out before you had the mind to just shut the door and pretend it never happened. Your throat was dry, coarse, and it translated into the rough tone of your voice. You didn’t even recognize it as your own as it rang through the still air.

Eyes glued to the dirty carpeting of the landing, you couldn’t find the strength to look him in the eyes again. The longer you stood there, mere inches of wood separating you, the harder it got to hold your resolve. It was easy to keep away when he wasn’t there to remind you of all of the reasons to stay and fight.

The silence was deafening, neither party knowing the right thing to say, if there even was anything ‘right’ to say in the first place. If you couldn’t be honest with yourself, how could you ever expect to be honest with Namjoon?

Running away, leaving, abandoning things. That was the only course of action you’d ever bore witness to when it came to relationships. If it was so easy for your father, your boyfriend, your best friend, to leave you, why was it so difficult for you to leave Namjoon?

The salty taste in your mouth gave way to the tears that flowed freely down your face, even though you hadn’t given them consent to do so. You didn’t want him to see you like this, so broken at your own undoing. 

As much as a part of you wanted to blame Joon, to say that this was his fault, you knew it wasn’t. As much as you wanted to blame the past, the monstrous characters that shaped your negative outlook on the world, you didn’t.

It must have been, and always will be, your fault.

If everyone in your life leaves, the only constant factor, is you. There must be something wrong with you that forces people out, makes it easier for them to walk away. 

Like the second a bomb goes off, the realization that all the pain you’d endured: the wars waged in your mind, the destruction of yourself and the life you tried to salvage, could all be self-inflicted tore apart every fiber of your being with the initial blast.

For so long you’d chalked the misfortune up to bad luck; ill-fate. You were a victim of circumstance. Yet now all you could see was yourself at the root of every disaster. 

Suddenly drowning a the sea of self-deprecating thoughts, the weight of your body felt like a ton of bricks with which you no longer had the strength to support. 

Falling to your knees, you didn’t realize you had, at some point, subconsciously unlatched the door, until warm, strong arms caught you in your dissent. 

They held you as you cried; a loud, ugly cry, that had your inner-self cringing. It couldn’t be helped, though, and you no longer cared as you let the sobs wrack every part of you. The only thing anchoring you being the man you tried so desperately to push away.

His soft ‘shs’ combined with the soft glide of his hand in your hair calmed you despite the circumstances. You were a complete and utter mess.

And yet, Namjoon was still here.

After the stress you’d put him through, the lies, the ghosting, the cold shoulder, he remained constant, steady throughout the storm. He didn’t walk away when things got difficult, he didn’t blame you, he didn’t hurt you.

He is here, holding you, telling you it’s going to be okay.

The small part of you, the dark piece tainted by the negativity, had quietly retreated within you. The tiny hand reaching out for Namjoon’s light had prevailed. That film inside your brain burned away like acid as a new one began production. One in bright, saturated color; full of all the wonderful things you’ve experienced life with Namjoon.

Coffee dates, movie nights, grocery runs at 3 a.m.

Bad jokes, boisterous laughter, warm blankets.

Tight hugs, pinky promises, your best friend.

“I’m right here. I’ll always be right here,” he whispers through tears. He’s holding you tightly, despite the part of his mind screaming at him that this is what got him into trouble in the first place. His deep, innate need to protect you, to hold you, won over any worries he had of pushing you further away. When he felt your arms wrap tightly around him, face nuzzling into his chest, he knew he’d made the right choice.

In the end, it wasn’t space that would heal your heart, but closeness. You’d been so scared of him leaving, you tried to force him away, when he wanted nothing more than to keep you close. 

Finally, you realized that Namjoon was the only person who has ever stayed. He’d had plenty of time to walk away, been given a multitude of opportunities to excuse himself from your life, yet he never did. 

He rode out everything you’d thrown at him. 

As you both sat there, tear-streaked messes holding each other as if your lives depended on it, you knew that this storm had passed. Despite any damage it had caused, with Namjoon by your side, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be repaired.

Letting a person in when you’ve been broken so many times is not easy and it never will be. A part of you will always be wary that one day something will change, that you might eventually wake up and be on your own again. It is a part of dealing with the trauma you’ve faced.

While Namjoon can never ‘fix’ the ‘broken’ parts of you, he will be there to show you new, beautiful parts of yourself that have long gone overlooked. To be the shoulder you can cry on, the ear you can confide to, the heart you can someday love without reserve.

It’s never been about putting the pieces back together, tearing the walls down, or proving the past wrong.

Namjoon’s only wish is to be there for you in any way you let him, to be himself, and live life with the person he cares about the most. 

So, he’ll be there through every pitfall, every tear, every laugh, every smile, because to Namjoon, every part of you is worth sticking around for. Always. 

“Thanks for not leaving.”

Love it, it's too cute!!

Hi, are you taking spideychelle requests? If so, could you write one where Michelle gets her wisdom teeth removed? If not, that's perfectly fine! Take all the time you need ♥

I am taking requests! Spideychelle art and fic requests, actually! I hope you don’t mind this, but I’m gonna use this as an excuse to develop Peter and MJ’s relationship in my Spiderverse, because I haven’t written about them in a while. 😅

Peter lay underneath the cozy blanket on the couch, scrolling through his social media on his phone.

Although he wasn't too active on his social media, he still used his Instagram as a good opportunity to post his photos.

Most of them were of him and his friends, but a few others were of the New York skyline or some photos he discreetly captured while talking to the police, of blurred police cars with their lights flashing red and blue, and some of his favorite Spider-Man photos he sent to The Daily Bugle.

He tilted his head in confusion when his phone pinged, a text from MJ popping up on his screen.

MJ (partner-in-crime): "Hey, nerd, can you and Mr. Murdock or May come to pick me up at the dentist in forty-five minutes to an hour? I have wisdom tooth surgery today, and neither my mom nor aunt can pick me up."

Peter instantly opened the full window, typing his response into the little screen.

Peter (Spider-Boy): "Sure, is it the one across from Burger Frog?"

MJ (partner-in-crime): "That's the one."

Peter (Spider-Boy): "Yeah, sounds good. I'll call Matt and ask him to take me. I think May's out with her bf or something.."

MJ (partner-in-crime): "Alright, great. I'll see you then."

Peter smiled a small smile before pulling up Matt's contact to call him.

"Hey, Pete, what's up?" The older Mutant greeted on the other line.

Peter grinned when he heard his godfather. "Hey, Matt. MJ just texted me. She's at the dentist to get her wisdom teeth removed... She asked if we could go pick her up in about forty-five minutes to an hour or so? I mean, I don't wanna ask May because I know she has that new boyfriend of hers, and...well..." He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his features when Matt chuckled.

"Yeah, I can see what Foggy's up to around that time, Pete. I'll call you when it's getting closer to the time we need to pick her up, okay?"

"Sounds good. Thanks, Matt," Peter said. "I'll see you soon."

"Gotcha, Little Red. I'll see you soon," Matt said, laughing, as Peter groaned into a couch cushion.

"Matt, please, for the love of everything good in this world, stop calling me that," he begged, embarrassed.

He chuckled. "I'll see you soon, Pete."

"See you soon, Godfather Matt," Peter said, grinning smugly when the man sighed.

"Never letting that one down, are you?"

"Nope."

"Right. Well, I'll see you later, squirt," Matt chuckled.

"Bye, Matt," Peter said, before hanging up the phone.

He rolled over, and flopped down onto his back, keeping his body covered by the blanket, leaving only his head peeking out from the soft material.

He knew that MJ was a bit nervous about the dentist, mainly because she burned through anesthesia faster than a normal person would, and the offices scared her in general. Always had.

Peter looked over towards his bedroom, which remained unoccupied throughout June, and he sat up, flinging the blanket off of his body.

He padded into his room, already shedding his blue plaid button-up, white t-shirt, jeans, belt, shoes, and socks in favor of changing into his blue and red Spider-Man suit.

He snapped his Web-Shooters onto his wrists with a  barely audible click! before climbing out onto the fire escape. He closed his window behind him before shooting a strand of webbing out at the building across from him and swinging off into the late morning.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Peter anxiously bounced his knee as he sat in one of the chairs within the dentist's office waiting room, one hand anxiously gripping his damaged thigh in case a painful flare-up hit him. So far, he was doing okay, but being surrounded by so many people was making him on edge.

"Hey." Matt, who was sitting next to him, gently squeezed his hand. "It's okay. She'll be out soon."

"I know how much she hates these places," he murmured in a hushed voice.

"You know her better than anyone, don't you," Matt said, leaning back against his chair, one leg crossed over the other, cane leaning against the two chairs.

"Michelle Jones?" The receptionist called in a friendly voice when she stepped out from the hallway, making Peter stand up.

"I-I'm here for, uh...Michelle Jones." He gestured to both him and Matt. "We-we both are." His blue eyes narrowed in on the Inhibitor bracelet that was tightly fastened around her wrist and making his anger boil inside him.

Matt stood up half a second later, placing a hand on the sixteen-year-old's shoulder and making him look back at him. He gave him a tight-lipped, although defeated, smile to try and calm him down enough to see his best friend.

"Follow me, please," she said, snapping Peter out of his angry stupor.

The two Mutants followed her into a sterile room with a white hospital bed, beige walls, and white tile flooring.

Peter grinned when he saw MJ sitting on the bed, fiddling with her Inhibitor bracelet. "Hey, Red."

MJ's dark, cocoa brown eyes focused on her best friend when her head snapped up. She smiled at him, a bit dopily because of the sedation that he knew would wear off soon.

"Pe'her? 'S tha' you?" She asked, cocking her head in innocent confusion.

"Yeah, 's me," he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You ready to ditch this place?"

"Hull yuh," she said around the gauze in her mouth. She tried to stand up, but her legs were wobbling so badly that she practically fell into Peter, who instantly caught her by her biceps.

She flung her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, pushing him against the bed. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, smiling dopily at him. "Missed yuh, Pe'her. We gon' go home now?"

"Just as soon as Matt checks us out," Peter laughed, a bit confused as to why she hadn't burned through the anesthesia yet.

"By the time you get home, Michelle, you'll be able to take the gauze out," the nurse said. "Your mouth would be almost completely healed, thanks to your enhancements."

"'S right. 'M badass," MJ said, giving Peter a lopsided smirk as she curled her hand into fists, showing the two divets in between her knuckles to them.

Peter smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "Yeah, you are."

"The anesthesia's going to wear off in thirty minutes to an hour, so make sure you keep an eye on her during that time before she completely comes to her senses," the nurse continued.

"Ohhhhh... You got the really good stuff, didn't you?"

"Mmmmm-hmm. Real gud shtuff," MJ murmured, burying her face into his neck again. "Look a' me, Pe'her. 'M a koala."

Peter felt his face heat up, as the nurse gave him a warm smile. 

"She loves you very much, I can tell," she said, letting Matt sign the braille paperwork for her to discharge her.

Peter instantly looked back at MJ, his face and ears reddening in embarrassment.

MJ lifted her head, letting her nose brush against his before nuzzling her head under his chin again.

Peter suspects they must have been quite a sight when Matt led them out of the room, and into the front of the building where a few people waiting in chairs for their appointments gave them kind smiles before averting their gazes when they noticed MJ's Inhibitor.

Peter swallowed the growl rising in his throat, just as MJ flashed everyone the Inhibitor bracelet around her wrist.

"Yeah, I got supherphowers, so what?" She clung against her best friend, who gave her an awed look. "'M still badass, right, Pe'her?"

"Absolutely," he said, carrying her out to where Foggy Nelson, Matt's best friend, was waiting in his car for them.

"C'n I drive?" She asked in excitement.

"Absolutely not," Matt chuckled, making her stick her lower lip out in a pout.

Peter helped her inside the backseat of the car, barely able to help buckle her in before she was trying to wriggle into his lap.

"M-MJ, c'mon you gotta get buckled in," Peter laughed, his voice constricted, as she hugged him tightly.

"Noooooo. Yur all waaaarm..." She nuzzled her face into his neck again, and he sighed, shifting his position a bit to try and accommodate the added weight, and to prevent MJ from hitting her head on the ceiling of the car.

Matt murmured something to Foggy, which made Peter try to listen in on the conversation.

"What're they doing back there?"

"MJ's trying to make out with your godson," Foggy snickered, making Peter snort.

"Seriously, guys?" He sighed, shaking his head, as he focused his eyes on MJ, who was trying to pull her cherry-red hair out of its ponytail. "Hang on, Red, lemme get that." Peter sat up straighter to try and help pull the hair tie out without pulling her hair, as she thumped her head against his shoulder once more.

"Thamk yuh, Pe'her..." she murmured, as her hair fell in frizzy ringlets over her back.

"You're welcome, MJ," he said softly, as Foggy drove them back to Peter's place.

Nothing else eventful happened on the way there, except for the occasional, silly comment MJ gave Peter that made him laugh or roll his eyes affectionately.

Her mouth had started to heal a bit more on the way there, and she started to move her numbed tongue around in her mouth.

"You okay?" He asked, to which she shook her head.

"Nooo... I can't feel muh mowth," she whined petulantly.

"Well, you had to get your wisdom teeth out, so that's why your mouth's numb," Peter replied, feeling his body lock up when she tightened her hold around his waist with her legs.

"Why'd yuh take m' teef, Pe'her?" She asked in an accusatory tone, which would have been more threatening if she wasn't doped up on enhanced pain meds, and lisping.

"I didn't take your teeth, Red," he reassured, making her huff in annoyance.

"Then who did?" She demanded, her dark, cocoa eyes staring into his bright blue ones.

"The dentist did," he said calmly. "They were hurting your other teeth, so the dentist had to take them out."

"Oh. They got evacu'ated?" She asked, partially understanding what the Mutant was saying.

"Yeah, they evacuated," he snickered, pressing his forehead against hers, and making her hum.

"'S rude o' them t' leave like that," she muttered, glancing back when Matt was unable to contain the laugh that bubbled out of his mouth. "'Ey! 'S true!"

"We believe you, Michelle," Matt chuckled, shaking his head.

"Alright, guys, we're here," Foggy said when he pulled in front of Peter's apartment.

"Keep an eye on her, Pete," Matt advised, looking back at the two enhanced teenagers.

"I will, Matt, I promise." He gently nudged the underside of MJ's thigh with his knee. "C'mon, Em, we're here. You gotta let me up."

She squeezed him tighter. "No."

"I'll pick you up as soon as I get out, I promise," he reassured, smiling at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him before relenting and sliding off his lap and onto the seat next to him. She folded her arms over her chest, watching him push the car door open and climb out.

"C'mon, MJ," he said, holding his hand out to her. "As soon as we get inside, we can get that gauze out, and I'll make you a pizookie, yeah?"

"Wha's a pi'ookie?" She asked, letting him help her out of the car.

"Half-baked chocolate chip cookie with vanilla ice cream," he explained, letting her wrap her arms around his neck, and legs around his waist as she had done before.

"Hmm...Sounds good," she murmured, as Peter pushed the car door close with his free hand, the other resting on the small of MJ's back to keep her close to his body.

"Thanks, Mr. Nelson. I'll see you later, Matt," Peter said, as Matt ruffled his hair gently.

"You take care of her, squirt," Matt advised, smiling.

"I will. I always do," he reassured, smiling.

MJ waved at the two before Peter carried her into the lobby of the apartment.

He used the stairs to head up to the eighth floor, thanks to the elevator acting shitty for the past couple of weeks, MJ still clinging to his body.

Once he was outside his apartment door, he reached into his back pocket to pull out his keys, just as MJ twirled the keyring around one finger.

"Lookin' for these?" She asked, smiling innocently.

Peter rolled his eyes, smiling, as he took the keys off her finger and unlocked the door. 

He carried MJ into his apartment, and instantly let her flop down onto the couch, wrapping herself up in his blanket before he could close and lock the door.

"Th' blanket smells like you," she pointed out, nuzzling her face into it.

He smiled before walking towards her. "You want me to get the gauze out of your mouth?"

"Why d' I have gauze in muh mowth?" She asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Because they had to take the spots of your wisdom teeth," he told her, letting her sit up, wrapped in his blanket, mouth parted in a little "O".

"They turned muh teef into gauze?" She asked, shocked, as Peter silently cursed himself for not getting any of this on tape.

"No, they took your wisdom teeth out, and they had to put gauze in your mouth so your mouth wouldn't start bleeding before we came to pick you up," he explained.

MJ felt around her mouth with two fingers to pull out the strips of gauze, drenched in saliva and clumped together with dried blood.

Peter grabbed a Kleenex for her to put them in so he could throw them out. "You want me to turn a movie on?" He asked, standing up to throw out the Kleenex.

"Mm-hm," she said, snuggling back into the blanket. "Somethin' dark and depressing. Or hilarious."

Peter shook his head in amusement at her. "Alright, Red, lemme find one." He sat down in front of the movie cabinet his and May's TV rested on, hearing MJ shift her position on the couch.

"You want The Greatest Showman?" He asked, looking back at her when he didn’t receive an answer.

He smiled softly when he saw her wrapped in his blanket, already fast asleep. He knew the anesthesia dentists and doctors now gave enhanced individuals was really strong because of their enhanced metabolisms, and he also knew MJ needed plenty of rest after her surgery.

He headed into the kitchen to start working on their pizookies, smiling to himself when he heard MJ mumbling incoherently in her sleep.

__________________________________________________________________________________

MJ woke up an hour later to the smell of freshly baked cookies and melting ice cream, and a barely-noticeable ache in her jaw.

She sat up from the couch, groaning as she massaged her jaw. "Morning, sleepyhead," Peter greeted, already sitting at the table, eating his own pizookie.

"Hey, loser..." She stretched, one arm tucked behind her head, the other stretched towards the air. "How long was I out for...?"

"'Bout an hour," he said. "The good stuff wear off yet?"

She nodded. "Yeah, a little. I mean, I'm more coherent than I probably was before I fell asleep, so..." She stood up, and walked towards the kitchen table, slumping down in front of the pizookie Peter had left in front of her. "What's this?"

"Pizookie," he replied. "Half-baked cookie with ice cream," he said, fangs scraping his fork when he took another bite.

MJ gave a small hum, taking her fork in hand, and carefully taking a bite of the homemade treat. "Huh, that's actually pretty good."

Peter grinned. "Thanks, Red Koala."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, making him snort and cover his mouth.

"Sorry, you, uh.... The first thing you did was hold onto me like how a koala grabs onto a eucalyptus tree, and you called yourself a koala," he explained, making her groan and thump her head against the table.

"I didn't do anything else, right?"

"You thought your wisdom teeth were rude for, and I quote, 'evacuating your mouth', and then you thought the dentist turned them into gauze," he explained, laughing when MJ thumped her head against the table again.

"You better not have gotten that on tape," she warned.

"I wish I did," he laughed, smiling. He watched her sit back up to take another bite of her treat.

"Thanks for, y'know...picking me up, Parker..." She said shyly, her hair partially obscuring her face to hide her scarlet blush.

Peter smiled earnestly at her. "'S no problem, MJ. You would've done the same, anyway."

She nodded, pointing her forkful of pizookie at him. "Damn right."

The two fell silent again, basking in the company of one another, as they finished their pizookies before Peter spoke again.

"Do you really think I should get a tattoo?"

"What?"

Peter shrugged. "You talk in your sleep when you're doped up," he said nonchalantly, making her roll her eyes.

"I mean...if you want to," she said. "As long as it isn't something dumb, and huge."

Peter smiled, and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, eyeing the small notebook he had left on the island counter. 

He'll definitely keep it in mind.