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7r0773r · 4 months ago

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There's Always This Year: On Basketball and Ascension by Hanif Abdurraqib

And besides, it might do all of us some good to reconsider what making it even means, or at least to honor a world where making it is not defined by the glamorous exit, not only by television cameras, not only by coming back with a pair of trophies riding shotgun. What, after all, do you call it when your name is good on every block you touch, or when kids gather around porches to hear stories of when you were great, even if you haven't held a ball in a meaningful game in decades. When you don't have to pay for a drink, when the guys at the corner store wave you off while you reach into your pockets. What do you call it when players who came after you fight back tears at the mere memory of you, at the mere mention of your life now, the path you made. Someone who ages, thank God. Someone who lives beyond their past selves. But someone who is also bronzed, a monument embedded in the emotional infrastructure of a place. People will remember you, sweat-slicked and twirling through two defenders, splitting the foolish ambitions of your enemies. People will remember you, swinging from a rim with your eyes wide open, as if you can't believe that you got that high and can't believe that you have to come down. People will point to a kid wearing an Allen Iverson throwback jersey or a pair of Kobe Bryant sneakers and shake their heads, and maybe they'll say Estaban smoked all those fools once. And that's it, I promise you. Once is all it takes. It takes you, and a ball, and someone between you and the basket. You have won once, a single time, and worn your victory around your neck until it grew rust, and then wore it for years after. Don't talk to me about any version of making it that ends with someone like Estaban Weaver being described as a failure. Not if you weren't here. Not if you don't know what it's like for a city to make you into a savior before you finish ninth grade. Not if, despite that, you survived. (pp. 88-89)

***

Sometimes there are funerals, and sometimes there is nothing. No portal through which grief can be passed, no housewarming for the new grief that furnishes the ever-growing tower that we carry, that we are responsible for, whether we want to be or not. Both landlords and tenants within our own sadness, and sometimes it just happens. Grows while you sleep. Death isn't the only way to die, though it can be argued that it is the most merciful. (p. 90)

***

The greatest engine within the machinery of deception is mercy. The mercy visited upon you by those who know something is amiss but don't say shit. Who know the machinery is what is keeping you going, granting you a little bit of dignity. And the deception that mothers all other deceptions I may try to finesse past you is the one that whispers in my ear and tells me I keep all of my heartbreak in the chamber. Zip it up before going out into the world. But oh, how it overflows, even when I have prayed that it doesn't. And so I suppose I should assume there are many people to thank for their mercies. The friends who never asked the questions I didn't want to answer about the same clothes two days in a row or why a new person opened the door of my apartment when they knocked once and then never again.

But yes, also, the kind woman who once handed me a key to a storage unit I couldn't afford and who also, surely, heard me rustling around in that unit on the mornings I couldn't get out in time and who never knocked and who, when her manager came to do inspections on a morning I was tucked, trembling, in my sleeping bag, steered him in another direction, telling him I've checked these already outside of my door, the faint echo of her lie breathing life into my own prolonged lie. And yes, the library workers who did not shake me back to the living when I had nodded into a dream where I was free, and I mean the good kind of free, a dream no storm could snuff out. And yes, whoever saw fit to open the doors of the downtown church a little early on the mornings, and whoever saw fit to leave blankets on the pews, and whoever saw fit to play the gospel so low it became a morning lullaby, women singing about God and those who have run toward God and been lifted up beyond the wreckage, and I am thankful, too, that I did not, in that moment, stand over the cauldron of my rage. I am thankful that I simply slept, bathed in the glow of stained glass and the hues of the pastel Christs. But there was rage. I came to God once. I made a deal. I said If you give me this, I will give you anything. We both knew I was a liar. I suppose God is under no obligation to be merciful about our deceptions. (pp. 125-26)

***

There were years before the fences crowned with barbed wire. Years before the monochromatic manufacturing plants began to sprawl, before concrete was poured over the grass, over the brightest shouts of the yellow flowers. Before the parking lots and the cars, flooding the lots so tightly one could barely walk among them. Mostly, though, it was the time before the simplest, most mundane pleasures could be governed by fear.

In those years, when I was still young, my father would take my brother and me to a field that pushed right up against the airport. It is hard to imagine now, because of all of the aforementioned architecture designed to keep people away, or at least keep people with idle time and idle intentions away. But you could walk right up to the airport in those days. The Greenbrier housing projects were next to it, and our complex was just down the street. We'd drive most days, but if one wanted to, one could, in fact, walk straight onto the field, sit in the tall grass, lean back among the flowers, and watch the planes take off.

We'd always go at sunset, mostly on Fridays after my father got off work. It was one of the rare times with my father that demanded silence. No speaking, no music pushing the limits of stereo speakers in a car or living room. You were so close to the runways at the airport that you could feel the ground tremble when a plane was preparing to take off. That is how you knew to look up. The soil would jump, slightly, brown specks spilling over onto the brown hand pushed against the earth. And then, moments later, the reveal. From behind the airport building or a single tower interrupting the sky, a plane would emerge, the front of it tilting back, a mouth drinking in the sun's final offerings, brightness collapsing atop another, more alarming brightness. A metal machine, large and loud at first and then smaller, smaller, smaller, silent, gone.

At that age, I never thought there were people inside of the planes. I never imagined anyone leaving anywhere, or who they might be leaving behind. It all just seemed like a show, no different than the explosion of fireworks. Temporary decorations before the sky went black. (pp. 169-70)

***

Though I suppose fire is a type of song, too. Some might say fire is the song that arrives after all the begging has exhausted itself and after all those who reasonably asked and prayed and wept rise from their knees and make use of newly idle hands. Don't know what good it is to burn a few cheap jerseys and a pair of sneakers, but fire sho' gonna have its say, one way or another. Just let anyone who has ever stood in front of a police precinct with fingertips reeking of gasoline, wrapped around a bottle, a lighter itching in their pockets, tell it. Just let anyone taping a bomb underneath a car tell it. Just let the niggas who want their hood back one way or another tell it, but definitely don't let the gentrifiers ever tell it. And look, I'm not placing a value or morality judgment on the shit (I suppose it depends on who and what is doing the burning and what brought the burning to life), but fire is a song, fire be a whole symphony if you allow it to be. And I don't just mean its sounds, the way it disrupts the sky with a snapping of fingers—rhythmic if you catch it on the right notes (I suppose it depends on who and what is doing the burning there, too). I mean the hands, I mean its makers, I mean the things that drag people to its urgent heat, to watch and to spread its gleeful damage. The people who bring every wayward feeling they've held behind a near-bursting door and throw it in the flame. People who bring what some might plainly call sadness but what we know as the dry and fraying pages of our past lives, peeled off and accumulating in all the places we can't avoid and so let's instead say haunting. Yes, bring your hauntings down to the fire and throw them in. Bring not just the trinkets and tokens of dismantled love but bring your broken hearts, the whole damn faulty machine. There are enough new ones to go around. There are those who might say fire carries a mercy with it, which I take to mean that it doesn't prolong the anguish. In the promised land, on the other side of this sometimes-wretched scroll of miserable, spinning days, I would guess that the decorum there will suggest that we not ask each other how we died or what dying felt like, the same way that those who have been locked up don't ask people how they got there. [paragraph break added]

But the living have thoughts on burning alive. Scientists say that it's the worst feeling imaginable at first. But then, nothing. The heat from the fire quickly chews through nerves, senses, renders the dying person without feeling. The dying person, they say, is transported toward a type of ecstasy. Forgive my wandering into the fantasies of no longer living, once again, but I would want to hear from someone who crossed over, who spun through the flame and ended up in the after-life. No telling how I'll go whenever I go, but I am skeptical of anyone living who suggests that any part of dying is less painful than it seems, in the physical sense or otherwise. But I want to believe. Knowing as I do that I absolutely will one day have both legs over the fence that divides living from whatever comes after, and knowing as I do that leaping from the top of that fence might not be my choice. I would like to believe in this idea of ecstasy, or at least a moment when there is awareness of what consumes us but no physical feeling to attach it to. I respect fire like I respect any song that bends to the desire of the person who summons it. The flame is political, of course, but it is sometimes mundane, sometimes romantic, sometimes simply a necessity, and not all necessities are political but some certainly are mundane and a few damn sure are something close to romantic. And speaking of burning for a brief, candescent moment before there is nothing left to be felt, this, too, is longing. This, too, is at least one stage of heart-break. The earliest stage, when any damage will do and it is seductive to watch some shit go up in flames, even though the burning won't bring back anything any of us miss or love. But that ain't the point. I get why the jerseys burned in Cleveland, I get why the men gathered around and sacrificed their once-beloved garments. How quickly can we get past the part where we feel everything and cross the other threshold, gasping and numb. (pp. 198-200)

***

Though I had been seduced back under the familiar covers of Ohio for far more trivial reasons than basketball, this time I didn't make the trip home only to watch a game on a TV in a pal's living room. On June 6, 2016, Columbus police murdered twenty-three-year-old Henry Green. Green was a victim of the city's newly minted Summer Safety Initiative, brought to life by the mayor, encouraging police to target "hot spots," places in the city deemed to be at risk for crime.

The murder happened in the early not-quite-summer that hovers over central Ohio. The days are longer and gripped by an extension of twilight, but whatever real freedom summer can contain for anyone not beholden to the schedule of school hasn't been determined yet. At 6:30 p.m., Green was walking back to his aunt's house with his friend, Christian Rutledge. A white SUV with tinted windows swerved in their direction, and two white men jumped out. Plainclothes cops. Jumpout boys. Wearing shorts and T-shirts and pointing guns. Rutledge heard one of the men shout You gonna pull a gun on me, motherfucker? before firing. Rutledge ran; Green was hit seven times. He was taken to the hospital. His parents were not allowed to see his body. There was blood on the sidewalk where he was given CPR, where people would place lit candles in the days to come. In the immediate aftermath of this kind of violence and the tremors of grief that encase this kind of violence, there are logistics of healing that escape the grander designs of burial, of taking meals to a family's doorstep. How does a person's blood get washed away from a sidewalk on a block they lived and loved in, on a block where they waved to neighbors, carried groceries home? What of an early and humid summer where the clouds sit, overburdened with rain they refuse to release?

Whatever is left behind dries and turns a dark crimson, the wayward light from candles flickering over what remains—a strange kind of memorial, a strange kind of haunting. I got home, and before going to the store and then to watch the game, I went to the street where Henry Green was murdered. It was a street I knew, a street near where I'd played ball before, hustled on basketball courts before, near places where I'd slept when I had nowhere to sleep. When I got there, I had nothing to clean the ground with, and if I did, I'm not sure it would have been the most appropriate step for me to do such a thing. But I remember what was left

5:19

of the blood and I remember the light from a candle hovering over it as the sun began to set and I remember staring down at my shoes and I remember feeling like the concrete was opening up and I know this to be nothing but rage I know this to be what comes after swinging wild punches at the air and imagining the faces of your worst demons the cops the politicians who call the places you love war zones the helicopters that won't let you sleep that claw through the walls and wake up elders and children and goddamn I remember at my feet that blood-stained concrete just split right in half and opened up and I want a whole city underground if it does not love my people I want to bury the new condo developments instead of my people I want to bury the craft breweries and the barcades and the mixed-use helltowers instead of my people I want the statues melted down I want the mothers of murdered children to do it I want the heat to rise from a statue's vanishing and last for ten summers I don't want apologies anymore no not this time I want the mayor to walk through a place he called a war zone at night I want people to get real honest with themselves about what war actually is I want the schools to have heat I want the schools to have air I want the riot gear thrown in the river the river that was blue when I was a boy but now leaves brown streaks as it runs away from the city I want the brown river to carry the riot gear to some other hell and I want the babies to stop passing out in school do you hear me I want a whole city under the ground some days but I at least want the rain I at least want something to wash the blood away so that no one who loved him has to and somewhere beyond the blood what I don't remember is

5:00

when I learned not to run from the cops and I don't remember when I first ignored that advice. But I always laugh in movies when there are people running from cops, who stop abruptly, fear in their eyes, when they hear a gun cock, or hear a shot fired in the air. If there is a usefulness in being able to see what's coming, it comes when one feels like one has at least a little control over what the outcome might be.

But we're talking cops—motherfuckers you know are cops. Who roll up in the blue and whites or at least roll up on you wearing the uniform of treacherous empire. Easy to spot and easy to plan around.

Henry Green was murdered by what looked like two plain dudes hopping out of an SUV with blacked-out windows. There's a difference when one gets rolled up on that way. Running might be in the cards, sure, but you might stay fixed to the ground just long enough to see what's going on, even if it seems like it might be what does you in. This is, in part, what makes the jumpout boys exceedingly nefarious, operating in neighborhoods using tactics that have a very specific translation and more of reaction that shifts, ever so slightly, from how someone might react to sirens, to a badge. The officers that pulled up on Green were supposed to be acting as surveillance in the neighborhood, calling in a cruiser if anything looked suspicious. This stuck with me when I first heard the story in Connecticut. I don't trust anyone who isn't from where I'm from, who doesn't live where I live, to report anything as "suspicious" or "not suspicious," and yet this is the ecosystem that I've known and had to rely on, that people I love are subjected to. Tourists wandering through areas they don't have any connection to, speculating on people they couldn't care less about. Life and death, determined by the haphazard tourism of people who believe they are eternally at war with everyone but themselves. (pp. 278-82)

***

If I haven't made it clear yet, this is all about the good fortune of who gets to make it out of somewhere and who doesn't. Who survives and how. But let it be known that some of us

0:30

never once dreamed of leaving. Never thought about making it out of any place as glorious as this. Tell me if you have ever built a heaven out of nothing, and then tell me what it would take for you to look for a new one somewhere else. The people who circle this heaven from the outside wouldn't know this. Might think that everyone is trying to make it somewhere else, through ball, through music. That's another myth. Crack rock or jump shot. Courts and cages and caskets. Everyone getting out one way or another, or so some might say. Some with no imagination, who speed through the hood, who speculate about sneakers ornamenting telephone poles. Who read stories of gunshots dragging serenity from the arms of nighttime. Some who imagine a place with no fathers, who—relying on that myth—believe mothers and grandmothers incapable of the type of ferocious affection that might pull a child back from any ledge they run toward. I never wanted to be anywhere other than where I was, my two feet planted on concrete that was breaking, but satisfied to still be of use. I never wanted to stray far from the shitty speakers weighing down old trunks, the symphony of bass and rattling metal, the smoke that drifts from an open window, an arm swinging from it, a wrist dangling out the side, a gold bracelet on that wrist, the sunlight running its fingers along the links, the shine of it, echoing for blocks. My people are here, and my people built the here in their image, and at least for a few precious years, there was nowhere to make it out of. We built the impossible utopia. You can't see the fence, but it's there. It'll keep you out, too, if you don't come correct. The gangs were never our enemies, but the people who look upon where we stay and see gangs in every gathering certainly were our enemies. But I ain't never gonna complain about who don't come around. If that's what it takes, then yes,

0:25

gang everywhere. A gang of stars mobs the infinite, cloudless black. A gang of black blooms infinite through a mob of dripping light, which reflects off of the sweat mobbing the skin of the black kids who should be home but are instead ganged up on the dying summer, the night itself sweating out a gang of shouts that swallow the gang of sirens, the echo of a ball fired off of a backboard mobs the silence, which was hardly ever silence around here anyway. A whole gang of porches and mobs of good folk set atop them, a gang of shoes or bare feet stomping the old wood, beckoning a mob of dust to fly skyward before settling right back down where it was, where it has always been, the homie leans back in the grass while a gang of fireflies decorate the absence above our heads and he says I'ma have me a gang of kids, and my kids gonna have a gang of kids, and we ain't never leaving. We gonna own a whole block of houses, right here in the hood. (pp. 313-15)

#hanif abdurraqib #book quotes

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ssadumba55 · 3 years ago

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Binders (Looney Tunes X FtM! Reader)

A/N: Literally sorry if this is inaccurate as hell I have not started wearing a binder yet and literally have no idea what entirely happens when you wear one during sports I just wanted to write something cute. Also of course, this is set during Space Jam: A New Legacy so if you haven't seen that don't read under the keep reading thing (spoilers). I know I said a while ago I don't write Looney Tunes, but I have watched both Space Jams and fallen in love. I plan to delve further down the rabbit hole but for now my knowledge is limited to Space Jam so please be gentle if this out of character. Also you can make up a reason how/why you ended up on the team haha. I really didn't think this through I just wrote it. Either way, enjoy!

You looked at yourself in the mirror, it was the halfway point in the game and you were exhausted. You had to play like your life depended on it (because it did) but this entire thing was tiring. Not to mention you could feel the strain from your binder underneath the bright orange and blue Tune Squad jersey. It wasn’t meant to be worn during intense exercise and you were worried this whole ordeal might ruin your chances of getting top surgery.

But you couldn’t go out there without it on. You weren’t flat enough to pass and if they saw your chest there would be questions, questions you weren’t ready to answer. You loved the tunes, but they weren’t exactly the best at being discreet. The idea of being outed to thousands of people in the middle of a life or death basketball game made you shudder.

Glancing over your shoulder to make sure you were really alone, you decided to give yourself a quick break. You pulled the jersey over your head and then the binder, pulling the jersey back over your chest just in case someone decided to barge in. You could easily turn around and pretend to be busy so they wouldn’t see your chest. You sat down, leaning against the wall and closing your eyes.

The burning in your chest was still there but at least now you had room to breathe more than you had before. There was still 10 minutes of half time left (you’d booked it in here as soon as halftime was called), you just had to get through one more half-

“(Y/n)...?” A familiar uncertain voice called and you nearly jumped two feet in the air. Your arms immediately crossed over your chest.

“Daffy! Shouldn’t you be out there? You are the coach, right?” You laughed nervously, stepping in front of your binder still laying across the bench you’d been sitting on. If Daffy was here, it was only a matter of time before the other tunes and worst of all, Lebron James, noticed you two were missing.

The cartoon duck put his hands, wings?, on his hips.

“We’ve been looking for ya, ya didn’t hear tha new looney game plan. Is something tha matter?”

His question was genuinely curious. He clearly didn’t understand why you were hiding away from the rest of the group, he was just worried for his friend and you couldn’t blame him. It did seem a little weird that you were back here, hiding, when you guys were losing the game so badly.

“I- I’ll be right out, just let me finish getting ready,” you promised him, “catch me up on the way out to the court?’

He shrugged and nodded, walking away to give you your own privacy. You sighed, looking down at your binder. Things would’ve been so much easier if you’d just been born a male. You wouldn’t need to risk your body wearing this thing during sports.

You pulled your jersey over your head and began to pull the binder over your chest. Once it was back on, you could feel your body protest immediately, but you didn’t have a choice. You threw your jersey back on and headed out, checking yourself over in the mirror once before.

“Alright, guys. I’m ready…” You walked out, hands on your hips to greet your teammates, only to be met with unreadable expressions on everyone’s faces. It was as if they somehow knew what you were doing and disapproved. You only had a couple minutes before you all needed to be on the court though, so nobody said anything.

The group headed back out and you tried to match the energy, but you had to face the music. Your body was strained, even without the binder this would be a lot to put it through and with it, it was almost unbearable. You took a step toward the court to join the others, and the world felt a little fuzzy.

You must’ve fallen and blacked out, because the next thing you know you’re laying in a bed and somehow you’re not dead. Maybe that had all been a crazy dream. You’d never gotten stuck in a server forced to play basketball with an all powerful algorithm. You’d never worn your binder during it all, you’d never met the Looney Tunes.

For a moment you fooled yourself into believing that. And then a sharp pain came through your body.

You let out a cry of pain and the door was pushed open.

“You’re okay!” You hadn’t been expecting the Tunes to be on the other side of the door… or in this world in general but somehow seeing them made you relax a bit. If they were here that must’ve meant they’d won the game. No thanks to you, but they hadn’t been deleted. They’d defeated Al-G. Lebron had gotten his son back.

“I’m okay. What are you guys even doing here anyway?” You asked, slightly exhausted.

Daffy and Bugs both hopped on the bed, trying to fight for a spot to sit (that apparently needed to be the spot where the other was sitting). You watched them squabble for a bit before Lola pulled them apart.

“Stop that, you’re going to hurt him,” she scolded them, shoving them to the side, then turning to address you.

“We were worried about you. Mr. James was really nice and let us stay for a bit so we could be here when you woke up,” she explained.

“You weren’t supposed ta be wearing that thing on your chest, were you?” Daffy crossed his arms over his own chest and you laughed nervously. They all knew. You wondered who had explained it to them.

“Look, guys. I know you’re mad that I lied to you-”

They all blinked, exchanging looks as if the thought had never even crossed their minds. Your face heated up, had you said something wrong?

“We weren’t mad about your gender, (Y/n), if that’s what you’s thinking. We’re just worried about that chest thing. They said you was wearing it the whole game until you passed out. You know that’s not healthy, right?” Bugs' ears had flopped behind his head.

You laughed nervously. “No it’s not, you’re right. I should’ve known better, I’ll be more careful next time. Sorry guys.”

They seemed to genuinely accept this apology, though they still looked worried. You prodded them to tell you what happened during the game after you passed out and they did relay it in shocking detail, you wished you could’ve been there to see it. After a while, they were ushered out so you could get some rest, Daffy hung back.

“I saved this for ya. Thought ya might want it.” He handed something tattered, it was your binder. They must’ve cut it off to save time. It had cost so much to get and it was all down the drain now. You took it, tossing it across the room into the trash can by the door. You winced as you laid down but it had gotten in and you were satisfied.

“I’ll get a new one, thanks though, Daffy.” You smiled at him and when the two of you met eyes, you could see that genuine curiosity from before. “You want to hang out here for a bit? I know I’m supposed to be resting but I feel like I’ll go insane if I can’t talk to someone.”

Daffy placed his one hand on his hip and brought the other up to tap his beak as if deep in thought, then all of a sudden, he launched himself up on the bed.

“Let me tell ya something, (Y/n). I have been working on something I can’t show tha others yet and you’re tha perfect person to try it out on-”

You felt all warm and fuzzy as he continued to ramble. There was something special about being accepted by a bunch of cartoon characters you’d looked up to for so long. Even though you were certain they didn’t fully understand, having their support and friendship meant the world.

You’d be sad when it was time for them to head back to Looney Tune World.

Oh well, maybe you could visit them sometime.

#looney tunes imagine #looney tunes x reader #bugs bunny x reader #bugs bunny imagine #lola bunny x reader #lola bunny imagine #daffy duck x reader #daffy duck imagine

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spideyspeaches · 4 years ago

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Roller-coaster ↬ p.p

gif’s not mine

A/N: My take on What if Peter was in Wandavision? But with a twist ;) Beta read by my wifey @stars-aligning 🥰🥰

Warnings: canon typical voilence? mentions of death. Also the timeline doesn’t really make sense, just pretend everyone is of the same age. OH and Wandavision spoilers :)

WC: 9k (longest one shot I’ve ever written 😭)

Pairing: Peter Parker x ex!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

"Ben? What's wrong? Why are you looking at her like that?"

"I- I don't. I don't know. She seems familiar."

"Familiar? Familiar how?"

"Like her and I don't belong here. Like we're from another world."

Working with Tony Stark as his intern, then head of the R&D and now working in the labs as the head of the department felt surreal, a fresh breath of air every time he looked at his desk, with his name written on it. It had been Peter’s dream to meet Tony Stark, maybe work with him too.

And then he got bit by a radioactive spider, giving him super strength, super eyesight and apparently super luck too, because though he liked to think that he was working in SI due to his intelligence, the spider bite did play a role in becoming his mentor’s favourite intern, without which he might have not had a chance to meet him hands on.

Tony kept reminding him that even if Peter had not been bit by the spider, he would have still secured a high position in Stark Industries, with his disarming intelligence that rivaled Tony’s own and charmingly trippy personality.

Peter begged to differ. But then again, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in it’s mouth. Ever since he was a bushy haired, rosy cheeked jittery teenager, he had always worshiped the ground Tony walked on.

Peter remembers the day he got an anonymous letter, which turned out to be SHIELD's handiwork, asking him to join them in their base in New York, even if he insisted that he wasn't interested in being a superspy wannabe. He was skeptical at first, why would the most paranoid of paranoid agents send him a letter in mail? Him, twenty three years old Peter Parker, who lives in a shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with termite issues and smokes weed like the government is going to ban tobacco and is barely able to take care of himself with the overload of work.

Maybe it was just his Parker luck, or the fact that he was a freelance vigilante who looked after New York in a skintight spandex suit, because the safety of the people was apparently second in priority to the government. They'd rather have people die than have an illegal protector.

Yeah so Peter was salty, and what about It?

Slinging his satchel higher, he saw the sleek black car in confusion, trying to get a look at the number plate before the lift binged on arrival, walking into the open door. He swore he was either hallucinating or in midst of an intense flashback of the events that lead to what people dubbed as the 'Civil War', back to when he had been shaken out of his mind watching Tony Stark eat his aunt’s homemade walnut date loaf that had more salt than sugar.

His thoughts were put to a halt when he entered his and his aunt's old apartment in Queen’s after a long week of Spidey on mission and nearly getting (illegally) fired, footsteps coming to a pit stop. It's not like it's everyday you come face to face with Agent Coulson, Nick Fury and your ex not- really- girlfriend, somehow all in one day all together.

"So… um. What are you- What are you guys doing here again?" he asked, folding his hands on his chest defensively, leaning into his aunt's side as he whispered, "how long have they been sitting here?" from the corner of his mouth.

Fury raised a non-existent eyebrow, looking at him with a dagger for eye, making Peter shift nervously. Agent Coulson looked uncomfortable and You, You looked strangely in your element, sitting on the couch with one leg over the other, a neutral expression on your face.

Back when he was still in high school, when he'd first met you, he used to be in awe of how outgoing you were, seemingly adjusting in whichever situation you were thrown in. You had always accommodated to your surroundings, but with a start he realised that he had never seen you so… You in a while.

Not during your visit to the Avengers tower, not during the first time you came into his bedroom, all alone. Not when he had seen you take down a mugger on your way home from your first date without even as much as batting an eye.

"They were here ten minutes or so before you came home. It's creepy, as if they knew you were visiting," May answered with a whisper, wearily eyeballing them before moving towards the kitchen, leaving Peter unattended to Your and Fury's piercing gazes.

"I'm sure they know my monthly schedule before I do," Peter said, turning to look at the aforementioned agents. "So... you like, work for SHIELD, too?" He asked, wringing his hands to abate the tension in them.

"Yes, she does, but that's not what we're here for, Mister Parker," Fury said in his gruff voice, sitting back with a sauve expression. Peter gulped as Agent Coulson looked him in the eye, finally noticing the thin file he held in his hands.

"Well what are you here for?" Peter asked, mustering up some confidence as he tried not to look at You or the eye that Fury had that wasn’t covered by the patch.

"We need you to come to Westview, New Jersey with us," You said, a final no nonsense undertone in your voice. He shuddered when he heard you, remembering how soft and sweet you used to be. But that was before you disappeared out of nowhere, and apparently that nowhere was with SHIELD.

"Me as in Peter Parker or Spider-Man?" he asked, looking behind his shoulder to make sure May wasn't listening. It's not like she didn't know about his… nightly whereabouts, he just wasn't comfortable with making her worry. She already had too much to deal with, with the nephew by day and vigilante by night thing he had going on.

It was also a little concerning that the three in front of him knew that he was visiting her today. He wondered if his apartment was bugged (well, more than the daily roaches and ants) or if SHIELD had been keeping an eye on him after he had denied their offer, instead opting to stay in SI.

It was probably the second one, although the first one was entirely a possibility. He was going to need to talk with Mister Stark about debugging his shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.

"We need Peter Parker and his tech skills for this one," Fury said, before shoving the file in Peter's hands and crossing his own, “and my offer still stands.”

"For the last time, I'm not joining your little murderous boy band," Peter grumbled, scrunching his eyebrows as he looked at your twitching lips, as if holding in laughter. "I'm perfectly content with working with Dr. Connors in his little laboratory in SI."

Fury didn’t look convinced and opened his mouth to probably threaten Peter, when Aunt May came in with a tray of cookies. They smelled amazing, too good to be made by her, she probably brought them from Delmer’s.

“Oh- Were you…? I just thought you guys might want to eat something,” She said awkwardly, looking at Peter with pleading eyes.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, May! I would love to eat some of those, I’m famished,” You butt in, taking the tray from her with a smile.

“Um, May, you can um- you know?” Peter gestured, shifting on his legs, hoping that May would get the message before she stood for a minute too long. He didn’t like the way Nick Fury’s eye was looking at him, his tranquilizer gun suddenly visible from his leather jacket.

“Don’t be rude Pete, here May, I’ll help you get that.” You smiled, winking at him and dragging May by her arm, who was mouthing “she’s such a sweetheart” behind her shoulders.

"What if I told you that his man accidently got evicted due to some legal issues? And that now you're legally unemployed with severe financial issues that need to be looked after because the government suspects something illegal brewing?" Fury continued, looking him dead in the eye.

"Are you seriously blackmailing me? Threatening to unemploy me after all that shit you put me through with Mysterio?" Peter defended, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, watching you strutt back into the room, distracted by the sway of your hips in your mom jeans. He tried to shake the image, rolling his head to crack some tension that had built at the base of his skull.

"Mysterio was a mistake, Parker. This one is not; and we really need you for this one. Besides, remember that you're still a vigilante that hasn't signed the Accords of Sokovia."

Peter stiffened that the mention of the Accords. He thought the government was over it after the second amendment after the arrest of Thaddeus Ross, but apparently not.

"You said that last time and I almost died! My ex-girlfriend almost died, my best friend nearly died, heck half of Europe almost died because you Director Fury, apparently trust some superhero wannabe in a green and purple costume and overlook facts that could potentially harm someone. So the answer is clearly no!" he retorted, flopping the file on the table as he resisted the urge to sit on the floor flat on his back.

The three agents were looking at him with an unreadable expression, making him uncomfortable in his skin.

"Well, it's all up to you then." His voice had a finality to it, one that irked him to no end.

"Do I have a choice?" He sighed after a beat, looking at the three of you with a forlorn expression.

"Get your equipment ready, Mr. Parker. We'll be leaving for the camp tonight. You can read the details in this file." He heard Agent Coulson say (he was pretty sure his name was Phil), trying to make sense of how fast everything was going past the chronic tinnitus in his ears.

"It's Dr. Peter Parker," he muttered fruitlessly, blushing under your raised eyebrow.

***

"So, I didn't know you got a PhD. I knew you were smart, still are, considering that you're a PhD at twenty two," You said, sipping on your virgin mojito, and placing the mug in front of you.

Peter had taken you to a cafe after the confrontation, wanting to know more about your whereabouts and how he had not noticed that you were a superspy all of his high school years. You had retorted with a simple "I'm a spy, that's why,” which he found pretty badass.

"Well, yeah, I did my undergraduate and PhD together." He shrugged casually, looking out of the window to avoid looking at you.

You had always been beautiful, but somehow, you had become even more beautiful than the last time Peter saw you.

"That sounds brutal. Only you can manage that," You joked. You weren't going to admit it, but you had missed being with Peter, joking with him and watching his beautiful side profile as he blushed under your scrutinizing gaze.

"So, um. This thing, what is it about?" Peter asked, snapping you out of your daze.

"Huh? Oh it's a long story. Like really long, if this was a TV show it would take five episodes for me to explain." You gestured, dismissing his scowl. "Okay, so you remember that time when that super high security facility was broken in back in december 2019?"

"Which super high facility? There are a lot of break ins happening in high security facilities in America, and it's more than concerning, considering they're supposed to be super high security." He said, fiddling with his own drink.

"Okay, Yeah that's true. It was a S.W.O.R.D facility, and long story short, Wanda Maximoff kidnapped her corpse husband to reenact the dad-knows-best suburban lifestyle with an entire town held as her hostage." You said, looking over your shoulders to make sure no one was listening.

"Wanda stole Vision's corpse? Wait, is this about Westview? 'The Town that ceased to exist'? Is that what happened? Is this some sort of mind control thing? Cause I know she can make people believe what she wants them to..." Peter whispered, leaning in to show that he was interested. You took a moment to admire his front profile, his broken nose and dimpled chin, rosy lips and sharp cheekbones, accidently zoning out on his theories.

Leaning forward, you brought a hand up his face, pushing a stray curl behind his ears, cutting him short of his rambling.

"W-what?" He stuttered, his breath hitching, making the table shake with a wince.

"You have nice hair." You commented with a smirk, caressing his hair one more time.

"You said that in the senior's party too, and well, there's no sex happening anytime soon." He said, rolling his eyes, sitting back in his hair with his hands folded on his chest.

"I like being optimistic." You rolled your own eyes, heart beating a mile a minute at the reminder of your relationship- ex relationship with Peter, "so what were you saying about Westview? I kind of zoned out."

You watched him roll his eyes again, trying not to let your eyes wander around his biceps and the little bit of his collarbones peeking from his shirt, unbuttoned from the top, also exposing the thin chain that he always seems to be wearing. With a start you realised that it was the one you had gifted him on his eighteenth birthday.

"So this town, Westview, it just disappeared right? Behind a barrier of sorts? Is it like, coming from an energy source? Was it created by Wanda? " he asked, ever his inquisitive self.

"Yeah, apparently she's created an alternate reality, sitcom style, with the people of Westview trapped in it."

"So she's basically starring in a fanfiction alternate reality of sorts but a sitcom format? Wouldn't blame her, poor woman's been through a lot." He nodded, shifting in his seat. He could feel your eyes burning a hole in his skull, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Are you staying in a hotel? Or a shield facility?"

"Nope," You answered, leaning back on your chair. "Am I still allowed to stay in your room? With the doors open?"

He watched you with narrowed eyes, tilting his head with a smirk, replying to you with a nod, "alright."

***

"Did you pack your mittens? The extra warm ones with a built in heater? You know you're susceptible to frost bites-"

"May! I packed my mittens." Peter murmured, ducking his head in embarrassment as he raised an eyebrow at your amused smile.

"Okay, okay, that's great. Socks? Painkillers? Extra pair of glasses?" she asked, fumbling around the room like she did whenever he went on field trips.

"Yes, May!"

"Great. Stay safe, okay?" Her eyes softened, holding his cheeks in his hand like he was a seven year old, living with them with a knowledge of death no seven year old should have. Sighing, he leant into her palm, holding his own hand encompassing her small one. Giving her a smile, he kissed her cheek. “Ti amo, May. I’ll call you once I get there, okay?”

She nodded, pulling him into her embrace, though she knew full well that he’s going to forget to call her, too excited to be in the vicinity of multiple certified geniuses and other figures of authority.

***

"Is there anything I should know about? Like anything unexpected?" Peter asked, looking at the camp in awe as the jeep pulled over makeshift gates, a bunch of soldiers surrounding them.

Peter was used to seeing the hustle and bustle of camps, considering all the missions he had gone through with the Avengers, back when Steve wasn’t retired and the newer generation of avengers hadn’t entered.

“Your blood’s radioactive, right?” You asked, turning to face him with a smile.

“Yeah. Why? Is that relevant?” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he saw someone carrying his bags before he could protest.

“Well, Dr. Lewis found out about this hexagonal anomaly, no one really knows what it is, but the source seems to be emitting huge amounts of radiations,” You said, getting off the jeep, pulling Peter out with you. Walking towards the crowded camp, you came face to face with the tent where everything was set up.

“Doctor Darcy Lewis?” Peter said, looking at the place in awe. It wasn’t extravagant, but the technology surrounding the tent, the vans and what seemed to be a broadcasting antenna were all way beyond the regular one used in tech companies, which is funny, considering he’s been working with Mr. Stark his whole teenage life.

“Yup, that’s her, nerd.”

“So, what exactly is this Hexagon? Is it, like, a barrier of sorts? Can everyone go in?” He asked, looking around with glinting eyes, lips twitching in a smirk as he saw the barrier in question. His super hearing caught the static sound it emitted, wincing at the sharp noises. His boots crunched under the snow as he felt the thing pull him towards it, your voice muffled by the noises of the hex.

It was something he had never seen before, like the static of a TV with a lost signal, glowing red in places as if reaching out to him. His senses seemed dull, the world greying around the way it had before he was bit by the radioactive spider. The spider bite had enhanced his vision in a way that he saw colours not visible to the human eye, a technicolour wonder that even Bruce couldn’t solve.

He felt a tug, looking down at his shoes, wondering if he had just imagined it.

“Mom and dad have been, not fighting, just like different.”

He swore he felt a white light flash in front of him, his spidey sense buzzing at the base of his skull, tingling all the way to his spine as he straightened up to dissipate the feeling, shifting awkwardly.

“Only Captain Rambeau has gone in and come back intact so far. It’s emitting a colossal amount of cosmic microwave background radiation, also known as CMBR, and once you get into it, your mind doesn’t really stay your own, so no one has volunteered other than her. Everyone knows the risk,” You said, startling him, a sharp contrast to the voices that seemed to have suddenly accumulated in his brain.

“If you’re going to break the sound barrier, please just take your brother with you!”

‘Sound barrier?’ he thought, looking back at the hex as it flashed red, the tug strong enough to make him stumble in his place. You looked at him weirdly, asking if he was okay, but he wasn’t listening, turning to ask you what the red flash meant, distortion evident in the barrier.

“Captain Rambeau? The daughter of the director of SWORD?” he asked instead.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Damn.” He sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair, and dragging it down his face.

Walking inside the tent, Peter was hit with a face full of cold air, and the hundreds of monitors nearly gave him a sensory overload. The people running around didn’t help, either. “Where do I keep this?” He asked, pointing to his bag full of equipment that Fury had asked for.

“You can set up over here, newbie,” A new voice said chirpily. Turning around, he came face to face with the Darcy Lewis, eyes widening as he took in her smiley presence, another human who he didn't recognise standing behind her. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Doctor D-”

“Darcy Lewis, I know- I’m a fan!”

“Aw look at you, you have a fanboy at your hand,” Captain Monica Rambeau said, strutting in and keeping a hand on her shoulder, confidence radiating off of her every pore.

"And… You are?" he asked awkwardly, looking pointedly at the FBI agent. He saw Darcy hide a snicker behind her hand, patting his shoulder and shoving him forward.

The man fell forward, steadying himself on the table before he flicked a card seemingly out of nowhere. "Agent Jimmy Woo, FBI,” he said proudly, a smile on his cute little baby face. Peter was left staring in awe, wondering how he had done that.

"Wait, can you do that again? How did you do that?!"

"It's cool, isn't it? I could teach you if you want."

"Yes, of course, but how did you do it? It appeared out of nowhere and if you take in consideration the law of conservation of mass, it can neither be created nor be destroyed and it just seemed to have accumulated-"

"It's a trick of illusion. You see, when I opened my palms, I-"

"Peter, let's set things up shall we?" You interrupted their session, a smirk on yours and the other women's faces, shaking your head.

Ditching the bag on the counter, he nodded, willing his heart to stop beating out of his chest. This was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him next to Tony Stark sitting on his aunt’s old futon. And the magic trick.

“This is the coolest day of my life,” he whispered, shrugging when you chuckled at his excitement. “Ned’s going to freak out.”

“Wait until you see the schematics and control panels.” You smirked, making him raise an eyebrow as he blushed, the flush apparent from his neck to his ear. The others scattered just as he finished setting his station up, fidgeting with the radio, when the voice of Hayward boomed across the cubicle.

“Ah, Mister Parker!” he says, a faux smile on his face as he looks at the station, making Peter shift uncomfortably. The weird tingling of his spidey-sense came up again, his hand automatically reaching there to scratch at the itch.

“Here we go again,” Darcy muttered, patting Peter’s back, her eye roll loud enough for him to glance at her.

“It- It’s doctor,” he muttered, hearing a “he gets me” from Darcy.

“Very well, Doctor Parker it is, then. I’m Hayward, welcome to SWORD.”

“SWORD? I thought this was a SHIELD thing?”

“...Fury didn’t brief you?”

“He did! He was just very vague, hence why I’m asking. What exactly have I been called here for?”

The silence that took over was palpable, with you shifting awkwardly as Hayward eyeballed them all, looking at the five of them morosely before saying, “Brief him Monica,” and leaving.

“God, is every higher official such a dick here?” Peter grumbled, watching him retreat, shaking his head as he threw the ball of paper he hadn’t noticed he had been fidgeting with.

“See? He agrees, I like him.” Darcy nodded, pulling him with her towards the briefing table.

“This all started when the town of Westview disappeared after the second blip,” Monica said, pulling up holographs that showed the image of people reappearing from the snap, his breathing increasing in pace as he remembered vaguely of his own reappearance.

The whole situation was fucked up. After stealing Vision’s corpse, Wanda had basically resurrected him, holding and controlling thousands of people, an entire fucking town. Looking at the list of all the missing people, his eyes zeroed on to one particular face. He racked his memory to remember who exactly it was, mouth hanging open when he realised who exactly she was.

“Is that… is that Agatha Harkness?” Peter said, pointing at the woman who had no name written under her photograph.

“You know her real name?” Darcy asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows as he nodded, wringing his hands around.

“Yeah, Wanda told me about her, she’s the witch from the Salem trials!”

“How is she significant to the plot, though?”

“She... she mentored Wanda, before she went to the dark side."

In the time he knew Wanda, she had been the sweetest person ever. She was like an older sister he didn’t know he needed, empathising with him on a cosmic level. They had come close before the events of Thanos happened. She was his person, and they shared a lot of secrets, this one being one of them.

“That’s one connection to her. What about the others? She keeps telling Vision that she doesn’t know what’s happening, but when the drone strike happened, she looked straight at the camera, like she knew,” Monica intervened.

“He tried to deploy a drone strike? In front of her children, after knowing very well that she saw her parents die in the Sokovian attack when she was ten? Is he fucking insane?!” Peter seethed, nearly crashing his fist on the table hard enough for cracks to appear on it.

“Peter, hey, calm down! You breaking things is not going to make the situation any better, okay? He already tried to chuck us out of this, you don’t go around breaking things now!” You said, holding him still as his body shook. You had never seen him this angry, and frankly, you would never want to see it again.

Peter was a sweet person, respecting people’s boundaries and always so understanding. He was the embodiment of good, even after living a fucked up life, he never projected his trauma on the other. He wore his emotions on his sleeves, and your heart clenched every single time, seeing him in pain.

"Listen, that's my sister in there, and she has no idea what she's doing. She needs our help and I'll do anything to help that woman and if you guys even think of hurting her I will make sure each of you regret it," Peter hissed, staring daggers at the silent team members of the room.

“Is there any way to reach there?” he asked, more softly than before. Darcy exchanged a look with Agent Woo and Monica, opening her mouth before knowing better and shutting it. “What?! Is there a way to communicate with her?”

“Follow us,” the brown woman said, breathing deeply as she looked at the other two silently.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked, fidgeting with your fingers. He hadn't noticed himself holding your hands, your lips twitching when you realised he had done that unconsciously.

“Trust me, I don’t know half the things these ladies do,” Woo whispered, and Peter nodded along seriously.

“Whoa, I feel like there’s a secret underground base here! Is there a secret underground base?”

“Well, it’s not underground, and not really a secret anymore,” Captain Rambeau said, unravelling a curtain, revealing a small space with a million monitors and a wooden desk littered with laptops and too many empty coffee cups.

“This is so cool,” You whispered, watching in awe as Dracy lit up the screens, revealing various codes and stuff you didn’t really understand. Peter was already invested, babbling about codes and addresses and hidden files within hidden files, things that flew over your head at the speed of Darcy’s fingers on the keypad.

Leaning on the table with one hand, Your eye caught a flat round metal looking thing on the ground, picking it up and tracing it with your fingers. “Is this… a bullet?!”

“Yeah, it was hit on that suit, which turns out to be 87% kevlar. That happened when Captain shot at it,” Jimmy answered, giving you a smile as you dropped your jaw.

“She went in wearing a bulletproof vest right? Wanda just… manifested a dress made of kevlar?” You wondered, your words interrupted by Peter’s yelp.

“So, remember how Director Douchebag ordered a drone strike on Wanda?” she said, contemplating her words next as everyone turned towards her. “Turns out he’s been planning something else.”

“What’s that?” Jimmy asked, pointing at the screen, which displayed two boxes full of what seemed like cells.

“That’s Monica’s blood work, he’s been tracking it the whole time. The first time you travelled to the hex? It changed your cellular structure on a molecular level, twice.” She said.

A sombre expression took over the older woman’s face, pursing her lips. “He thinks I’m gaining powers.” Monica nodded.

“I may not be a genetic engineer, but from what I’m seeing here, he’s most likely right,” Peter interrupted, a silence taking over everyone. “He’s keeping track of the enhanced, if I’m not wrong.”

Shaking his head, he clenched his eyes when he heard another voice. You watched him weirdly, reaching to ask him if he was okay, before retracting your hand.

“Chill out sis, it’s not like you can kill your dead husband twice.”

“You’re right. He’s been tracking everyone who’s enhanced, including Vision.” Dracy said, typing something on the screen to show you the map of Westview, pulsing red and blue dots appearing in your sight.

“Do you know what his endgame is?”

“Yeah. Rebooting Vision.”

Peter inhaled sharply, trying not to let his face show the anger inside him as he looked at Monica with wide eyes, both of them looking at each other dangerously, both of them realising same thing.

“Then, I’m going in. Someone needs to tell her,” he said, looking at the others for affirmation.

You took a step back, gulping in anticipation of his words. Reaching out with a hand, you stared at him, hoping he wouldn't lash out. "Peter, you have to know, the hex is a dangerous place. You won't even remember who you are so there’s no point in you going in. You won’t be able to convince her to magically leave her hostages, she’ll just see you as an outsider and throw you out-"

"Captain Rambeau went in and she was able to get out!" he argued.

"Peter, I was tossed out because she saw me as a threat. She might not do that to you but going in that thing is dangerous, especially with your mutations-"

"I don't give a fuck about my mutation! You of all people should know how it feels like to lose family, Monica," Peter said, looking at her. The fire in his eyes spoke volumes. No one dared to intervene.

"Peter, your mutation could potentially kill you. You know the risks of going past the barrier due to your enhancements. The radiations are altering DNA to a molecular level, your cells-”

"-are already metastasizing! My spider DNA is going to get me killed some day because my body won’t be able to handle it anymore, so I don't care, I'm going and that's final." He nodded, puffing his chest to show that he wasn't going to step down.

"Fine, I'll come with you then," You said, looking at him as you said that. A lump formed in your throat as you realised that he was so willing to sacrifice himself, and blood pumped in your veins as determination set in along with a rush of adrenaline.

"Do as you please." He shrugged, pursing his lips, but his eyes were a different story. You felt sick, insides tearing themselves up as you took a good look at him and his pallor, the artificial lights illuminating the scar tissues on his face. Ones that you knew were inflicted by his years of being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

***

“Maximoff is never gonna negotiate with us,” Hayward said, circling the table as Monica looked at him with disbelief in her expression. “We’ll need all the guns we have here to stop her.”

“We can’t outgun her, but what we can do is try and talk her out of this. Antagonising her is only making things worse. If Wanda is the problem, she has to be our solution!” Monica argued, looking forward.

“She’s already killed thousands during the Sokovian attack. How do you guarantee that she won’t kill another person she finds threatening?!”

“She was guilty about it. It wasn’t her fault, do not bring that into this.”

“Yeah? Well, the guilt isn’t going to bring back the dead children is it?”

"The dead children aren't coming back, but those people trapped in Westview? They can, if you fucking let us!"

"Fine. But someone will be monitoring you."

Negotiations with your boss and commanding team of SWORD concerning the ship was a tough feat. you had finally convinced them to let you and Peter go across the border, but Darcy and Monica were to be on the radio in case everything went amiss.

Sitting in the (illegally acquired) van, you watched Jimmy, who was trying to teach Peter the card trick, invested in the trick yourself. Leaning forward to get a better view, you tried not to let the rush of blood in your cheeks get to you at the close proximity with Peter, heart pounding with every step you took closer to the hex.

“I did it! I finally did it, Y/N, look!” Peter said, showing you the trick, smiling at his childlike enthusiasm.

“That’s great! You should show it to Morgan, she’ll like it.”

“How do you know about Morgan?”

“I know everything.”

You may have been bluffing, but he seemed to have caught on your cue, the awkward tension reappearing as he shifted in his seat, twisting and turning and going back to the magic trick. You tried not to smile, but your mouth never did coordinate with your brain.

“We’re here,” the driver said, parking the van.

“Okay let’s go through this again: Captain Rambeau and Dr. Lewis will be on the radio while you try and get in, stay near a radio as much as you can so we can try and communicate, and do not try to meddle with Wanda,” Jimmy said, going over your checklist.

You were skeptical of the plan, thinking about how successful your mission was going to be, considering how powerful she had become in her own little sitcom. You had heard of her expanding the borders just after you had started driving near it.

“You ready?” Peter asked, taking your hand as you nodded, and wrapped your fingers around his knuckles, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, looking over your shoulders to see the FBI agent giving you a thumbs up, muttering something into the comms. Looking back at Peter, you felt dizzy with the buzzing anxiety, the pull of the barrier strong.

Stepping close to it, you felt electricity buzz in your veins, shuddering at the chilling sensation and sudden exposure to stimuli, your gut twisting the more your hand went in the hexagonal anomaly. You swore you felt your physical being tear apart, your life flashing in front of you in a white hot light, your brain was practically mush with how much force you needed just to get in.

"I thought we would be able to get in easily!" Peter shouts, his screams echoing in your eardrums, mixed with your own screams.

"She's becoming more powerful the longer she stays inside, and so is the hex," You replied, gasping for a breath as you tried to move forward.

With a final scream, you closed your eyes at the static sound bombarded your ears, you couldn't fathom how loud it must be for Peter, sending a look towards him. His eyes were scrunched, hands curled around his head and ears to stop the sound. Before you could comment on his state, your own vision doubled, bright green and magenta lights appearing out of nowhere, the coiling of your gut intensifying, and before you knew it, the strong force pulled you inside, throwing you off on the hard concrete of the road, and everything went dark.

***

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Everything is alright,” Wanda said, repeating the phrase like a mantra as she sat on the couch.

She repeated the phrase like clockwork, just like being a mom to two half synthezoid pre-teens and the gatekeeper of Westview. Snapping out of her daze, she felt something in her brain stir, realising with a start that something had been messing with the barrier-- or, rather, someone.

Closing her eyes, she willed her powers, similar to the ones Tommy had, to look past the barrier, opening her eyes with a flash when she saw a familiar face.

“Peter,” she muttered, the brown eyed boy who she had come to think of as a brother materialising in front of her, dropping on the carpet with a thud as his unconscious form fell on top of Yours. Wanda remembered you from all the stories Peter had told her about.

Crouching down, she reached out to touch you both. Her eyes glowing red as she held a finger to your and his forehead, scrunching her eyelids as she navigated both of your heads.

A lonely young girl was seen sitting on a rock, the wind blowing wisps of her dark hair along with her dress. Suddenly, the noise of clucking of horseshoes could be heard, a woman coming into view as she got off her horse.

“Feeling lonely and afraid at the middle of the night when you’re a young and beautiful teenage girl?” the woman in the cowgirl shoes said, holding her hip as the girl nodded. “Well, don’t worry, every young girl must have a sword at her disposal!”

“A sword?” the young girl asked, tilting her head as she took the object in her hand.

“Yes, a s.w.o.r.d, my dear. Fear not, for the sword will protect you from all the hexes around you.”

The girl smiled, looking at the camera with the cowgirl’s hands on her shoulder. “A sword to protect the young!”

Buy now at your nearest convenience store, terms and conditions apply.

“What are you two doing here and not at school?” Wanda chortled, startling the two who were now very much conscious. The boy moved, fisting his eyes, and he curled his hands to stretch the kinks that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, the varsity jacket scrunching underneath his fists.

“Babe?” the boy groaned, messing up his hair, looking at the general direction of the girl.

Putting on a smile, Wanda folded her arms, biting her lips at how adorable the two of you were.

“Ben? Is that you?” the girl asked, looking at her disheveled frock with a confused expression, finally noticed the woman standing in front of her. “Oh my god, babe, I swear we were at the bleachers not long ago. Did you manifest teleportation powers now?”

“Miss Maximoff! You’re Billy and Tommy’s mom! Babe, we’re in Billy and Tommy’s house!” The guy, Ben said, his voice rising up an octave as he looked at his surroundings.

He couldn't remember much about the Maximoffs, except that his neighbours talk about the weird mom and dad almost everyday in the gossip sessions. Whatever, he wasn't interested in them.

"She turned them into teenagers."

"Well there goes our plan. Do we still have back up ready?"

“That’s right, kids. Now, what were you two naughty children doing out of school?” Wanda asked, helping the two kids get up as the boy blushed, stuttering an apology.

“We- we weren’t ditching, I swear, Miss Maximoff! We were just-”

"-Doing homework! Because… because Ben's a nerd and he doesn't like that he gets behind because of the baseball team!" the girl said, stuttering as Ben nodded along with her.

“Yeah! We weren't making out or anything! Even if we're totally dating."

Their relationship wasn't exactly your normal relationship. It was more of a… mutually beneficial relationship.

Well, so far they had the entire town fooled, having them all think that a guy such as Benjamin Fitzpatrick would ever date a girl like her, who liked her books more than her siblings.

"Hmm, well, thankfully, I'm a cool mom and I will not tell your parents about this… thing. Whatever it was. Anyone want cheesecake?" Wanda smiled, clapping her hands once as she looked at the two teenagers.

Ben's stomach growled at the thought of food. "You don't have to do it, Miss Maximoff, but I would love some," he said, sheepishly looking at the ground, and wincing at another growl.

Wanda chuckled, patting the boys back kindly. "Oh honey, it's alright. Come on, don't be shy, the both of you!" she said, looking over her shoulder and saying, "and it's just Wanda! Miss Maximoff makes me feel old, you know."

They followed her to the kitchen, taking in the interior of the house. Ben's eyes caught something from the corner, it was almost as if it was… flickering? Shaking his head, he dug his fingers in his eyes, wondering if he was still feeling the effects of the time he had hit his head during the baseball practice.

"You okay?" the girl asked, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Yeah, probably the aftereffects of a concussion." He nodded, burrowing his brows in confusion.

"Hmm, should probably get that thick little noggin of yours checked by the nurse." She snickered, hitting his shoulders playfully. Her heart was beating fast, he noted, wondering how he could hear it so clearly. The thought that he would have to leave her after she gets a date for prom made him sad.

They may be faking their relationship, but he had caught on very fast and realised that he wanted it to be real. As real as the town of Westview.

Wait, what?

"You know we don't have to pretend anymore, right?" Ben said, looking at the girl as she came to a halt. Miss Maximoff was nowhere in sight, the house eerily silent with her heartbeat echoing in his ears.

"This is the best ship SWORD could ever make."

The awkward silence was interrupted by the opening of the front door, a loud jingle as Agnes came strutting in, a big smile on her face. It made Ben's neck sting weirdly, slapping his hand at the base to nullify the feeling.

"Hello, children! What are you doing, skipping school like the little troublemakers you are?" She grinned, pinching each of their cheeks as her voice took a baby-like tone to it. Ben took a step back, grimacing as she continued pinching his cheeks.

"Um, we weren't- we have no idea actually-"

"Agnes! Oh, what great timing! Were you here for Billy and Tommy?" Wanda came in, a plate full of cheesecake and crackers in her hand.

"Oh, Wanda, Wanda, Wanda! Your little troublemakers are already in my house, or did you forget?" She chuckled, the sound of her laughter taking a higher pitch.

Wanda furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to say something, before closing it, a grin taking over. "Right. Yeah, of course! They really love it there with you, huh?"

"That's right, everybody loves Auntie Agnes!"

Ben looked at his girlfriend again, feeling strangely out of place between the two women.

"Um, Miss Ma- Wanda? C-Can we go now? I feel like-"

"Oh, Ben, don't be ridiculous! Why don't you sit down and take a breather? You look pale, hon." Wanda smiled, setting down the plate and ushering the two kids on the table, both of whom looked at the table with hunger in their eyes. Well, it had been long since lunch break.

"Thank you for the cheesecake Mi- uh, Wanda, we appreciate it," the girl said, promptly digging in after the affirmation.

***

Vision knew something was wrong the moment Agnes showed signs of knowing what was going on. The first time it happened, he was sure his paranoid wife would do something, but she had continued to act as if nothing was wrong with Agnes' behaviour.

Walking down the road in his ridiculous costume, he nearly sighed in resignation, before he realised that he wasn't capable of such human actions.

One more thing that perplexed him to no end was his strangely human behaviour. It was as if someone was forcing him to act more human, some weird force that was so unlike Wanda's warm presence, something more foreign and way out of his realm (like the gum incident. He sure did remember Wanda chastising him for doing this atrocity, surely she couldn't have been the one controlling him? Right?).

His mechanical heart ached for his wife. She had gone through a lot, from what he had read from her thoughts; losing a brother (twice, if the absence of Pietro was anything but a confirmation), and then him (it didn't bother him much. He was a synthezoid, there was entirely a possibility that he could be revived).

He just really missed her, he realised. Their relationship had been strained ever since the boys were born. He didn't blame the drift on his boys, of course. He loved them to no end, would sacrifice himself for them, but he couldn't help but notice the change it brought in Wanda.

The arrival of Pietro 2.0 didn't help either.

His thoughts were interrupted as his feet halted their movements, and with a snap he realised that he had somehow made it to Ellis avenue, the border's static buzzing through his entire being.

"You look lost, buddy," a strange man said.

Looking at the man, Vision tilted his head, looking through the database of Westview to see that the man seemed to be nowhere in the records. How had he made it here?

"I- I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked, leaning against the car door to peer inside, the man sitting rigid. It was only then did he realise that the man's eyes seemed… glazed, almost like he wasn't aware. Looking back at the barrier, Vision gaped at the view in front of him.

The man's car was half inside and half outside the barrier, the slow moving particles seemed to be disintegrating the vehicle, watching in awe as sparks flew the closer the barrier came to the man.

"Listen, you have to get out of here before that thing destroys you." Vision tried shaking the man, but to no avail. His attempts were in vain as the man simply grunted. "Listen! Can you hear me? What's happening? Why is the barrier moving?"

He tried opening the door, but it was shut firmly. Groaning, he punched the door, nearly falling to catch the falling man, who was mumbling some incoherent mumbo jumbo.

"Wanda, what are you up to...?" Vision muttered to himself, realising with a start that the barrier was expanding and the man had come from outside the barrier.

Looking at the muttering man, he quickly moved them both away from the barrier, propping him up against the grass.

"I'm sorry," Vision said, his hands gliding yellow as he touched the man's forehead, his own circuits being bombarded with incoherent noises.

"Oh god! I'm sorry, please save me! Please, this hurts, this- you- you're the Vision!" the man screamed.

"Yes, I'm the Vision! Now, can you stay still? I'm trying to help you!"

"-Please! She's in my head!"

His hands lit up again, the yellow light smothering the man's forehead as he went still again, as Vision retracted his hands regretfully. Opting to leave the man there, he stood up again, startling once again that day when he heard a shrill cry, the body of… Geraldine? Appearing out of the barrier. Shaking his head, he was convinced that he was hallucinating, if that was even possible for a droid, and turned around to walk back home.

(Agatha gave a satisfied chuckle, purple sparks erupting from her fingers as she turned back to Wanda, pretending that that didn't just happen.)

***

"Do you think our school is a little… solitary?" Ben asked, inhaling a puff of smoke from the blunt in his hands. His girlfriend and him were sitting on the rooftop of Westview high, their feet swinging against the edge as she clutched at Pe- Ben for dear life.

Peter? Who was that?

"Did you see that?? Peter was right, that was Agatha Harkness and she's been the one manipulating the people, it never was Wanda! It was meant to be a plot twist, but I totally predicted it."

"Um…"

"What? I'm invested."

Peter?

Y/n? Can you hear me? Please say yes if you can hear me.

She noticed the static sound of the radio speaking to someone. The static noise increased, and Ben didn't seem to have noticed the small portable radio malfunctioning. Shrugging it off, she went back to passing the blunt from her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. The word ignited a flame in her chest. Ben, who she faked her dates with once upon a time, now was her actual, real boyfriend, who she was ditching homework to smoke a blunt with, uncaring of her nearing curfew. Her parents would have her head if she found out.

"Do you hear that?" She asked, exhaling the stale air from her lungs. She knew it was more of the deep breathing than the weed, but it made her feel serene.

"I've been hearing a lot of things lately." He croaked, clearing his throat, sniffing the air as he leaned back, his Adam's apple bobbing with every gulp. His glasses were sliding off his face. She reached to push them back up, smiling at the flush of his face.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, slipping her fingers through his, rubbing a hand on his back. His life had been difficult, she knew about him being an orphan, but she didn't know he was having a hard time with life at the very moment, her heart aching for the poor boy.

"I don't know, I keep hearing these voices in my head. Children screaming, people crying, and this… this buzz at my neck, I can't ignore it anymore! I feel like I'm going insane and I can't keep them quiet! I've tried, but it's like they're trying to communicate with me."

Her eyes softened, hands running through his thick, straight hair as he leaned his head on her shoulder. Suddenly, the height at which they were sitting on didn't matter, she had him in her arms.

"He broke the fourth wall. He's been hearing things, just like Billy."

Wiping away his tears, she kissed his forehead, rubbing her hands gently on his back.

"It's gonna be okay. You're okay, they'll go away soon." She reassured, folding her legs to get up, and pulling him up with her. "It's getting late, and mom will have my head if I'm later than curfew."

"You've broken curfew before." He chuckled, stepping closer to Her, his hands on her hips.

Moving forward, she enclosed her hands around his shoulders, intertwining her fingers at the nape of his neck. Standing on her highest tip toes, she crashed her lips into his, their bodies swaying with the cold wind.

"Awww, they're so cute! Exes to lovers, I like it."

"I agree. Didn't see the fake dating coming though."

"Right?! Wanda should start a production company."

"If Agnes lets these people go."

***

Meanwhile, Monica had managed to find an abandoned shack in the backyard of Wanda's neighbour's house, her body buzzing with a familiar tension.

Opening the shack, she saw the trails of purple, vein like thing running their tracks until they reached somewhere she couldn't see. She didn't notice another person creeping up on her, too busy looking at the trails.

"Snoopers gonna snoop," the voice said, making her jump out of her skin, and keeping a hand on her heaving chest to stop her from hyperventilating.

"Pietro?!" She startled, looking around to see if anyone had heard her. The neighbourhood was eerily silent, leaning against the wall, before deciding against it and squared her shoulders, looking at the man in front of her.

"Yeah, that's me. But who are you? And what are you doing in Margie's backyard?" he asked defensively. She would have found the expression comical if it wasn't for her racing heart and adrenaline filled brain.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, folding her arms to show a defensive stance.

"I'm here because… I live here?" he muttered, borrowing his brows as his eyes glazed over again, "Yeah, wait, no... I live with my sister! Who lives two houses from here! What am I doing here?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"God, this is so weird. First Wanda was being weird, now I am."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

***

Billy was afraid. He knew that he should be stronger and braver, if not for himself, then for Tommy. His momma always told him that the only thing to fear was fear itself, and he didn't know what that meant, but he knew that he had to be braver to get back to his mom and dad.

"Billy, I'm scared," Tommy whimpered. "I'm hearing voices again."

"It's gonna be okay, Mom and Dad will be here soon," he reassured, just as scared as his brother. They were only twelve minutes apart, but he still felt a responsibility for him.

Mom said that they both reminded of her own brother- Uncle Pietro.

Hearing the door open, he felt a chill crawl up his spine.

"She's here! Billy, she's here!"

"I know! I know! Shh!"

Her footsteps came closer, the cackling of her laughter making his heart pound. His brother buried himself in his shoulders, both of them huddled next to each other, as if the inevitable could be avoided.

"How are my best boys doing?" Agnes' shrill voice rang, making Billy breathe faster.

"We want Mommy," Tommy whimpered, sounding as small as Billy felt.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, that's not happening anytime soon." She tsked, sounding as apologetic as the villains in the action movies his mom forbade him from watching.

"Why's that?" Billy asked, squaring his shoulders as much as he could.

"You didn't hear? Mommy's dead."

And his world crashed, his brain crowding with darkness.

A/N: Lemme know what you think! 😁😁

#wandavision #wandavision au #wandavision spoilers #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x stark!reader #peter x reader #dark!peter parker #wanda x vision #jimmy woo #darcy lewis #monica rambeau #spideygirl writes #queue tea

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seijohsbabe · 4 years ago

Text

Reward

Ship: Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Iwaizumi x Reader

Wordcount: 2,9 k

Tw: smut, pet names, overstimulation, abuse/rape (Reader kinda likes it ??), noncon

a/n: im so dumb ive deleted the old post so I have to repost it sorry guys :( If you have ideas for a next story, my inbox is open!

Nervously you looked to the ground. The mood was bad. More than logical, because the team you have been with for a long time has just lost to Seijoh.

But not only that made you look to the ground, there were four glances that made you tremble, and you knew exactly from who they were coming from and why. Your bet with you, which you had not really agreed but refusing with the four was no possibility. After your transfer to Karasuno, you were hoping to finally have some rest from the four. You were Oikawa's girlfriend, but his three friends also had a say. After you gathered your courage and broke up with him, it was far from over. They chased you, humiliated you, reached for you like you were a simple doll to them. Your move to Karasuno was like a glimmer of hope for you.

But only after 5 days they found you again, and drummed into you their bet to destroy Karasuno and take you as a prize. And here you were, on the bench, stunned, staring at the ball that practically meant your death. Shimizu, who was sitting next to you, noticed your trembling and held your hands with downcast eyes. But she didn't know a bit whatyou will expect now. You quickly tried to pack all your things and get back on the bus as quickly as possible. And you almost thought you had made it when you ran down the hall to get to the exit, but a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a room that you actually wanted to walk past. The room turned out to be a locker room. The door slammed behind you and you got pushed right against it.The four pairs of eyes that you actually no longer wanted to see were now right in front of you.

Oikawa who was still pressing you against the door let you go slowly to take a step back, to your surprise. With an all too familiar grin, he looked down at you, just like the other three who were just a few steps behind Oikawa. Only now do you really realize how big they were again, how much stronger they were. You can just grab yourself so easily without you doing anything. "Lil cutieee." Oikawa said first. His voice made you tremble and crouch. You know exactly why they dragged you in here, but you couldn't have it that real. Iwaizumi, who so far has only been against one without comment Was leaning against the wall, with crossed arms, now pushed off to slowly approach you. "Can you still remember? Our little agreement? We want our price." What can you do It was hopeless, you were trapped in the wolves' den as a little rabbit. But you still had one option. Your gaze slid briefly next to you, where the door handle was. Oikawa hadn't locked it. You quickly grabbed the door handle and tear open the door to get out of this cave. But Iwaizumi must have noticed your gaze and no sooner had you opened the door than he reached for you and slammed the door with his foot. Your back was now pressed against his chest, and your hands were tied tightly to your body, his hands completely encircling you. "I would give myself up." He whispered in your ear. And with that your last hope was gone.

Matsukawa was now in front of you, to put his big hand around your cheek without comment. "Come on, you will surely like it bunny. "

His hand went deeper and deeper until he came to the edge of your t-shirt, which he pulled over your head after Iwaizumi slowly let go of you. They all stood around you like a hunter who had just caught his prey. Somebody loosened your bra from behind, and you were completely free of the upper body. Matsukawa quickly followed, pulling his turquoise white jersey with the number two over his head to show his well-toned upper body. But your hands were still shaking. Suddenly you were pulled along from behind. That someone turned out to be Oikawa, who sat down on a bench and positioned you with your back against his chest.

Hanamaki, who now crouched down in front of you, slowly took off your shoes and training pants, while Oikawa attacked your neck from behind. Unnoticed, you tilted your neck to give it more space. a slight giggle came from his mouth because he knew he had you. Your legs have now been spread apart after your underpants were also taken off. "Oh, already that wet arent you kitten?" Makki grinned with a knowing grin. The other two men had completely undressed in the meantime and were watching this happen while they lazily stroked their cocks up and down.

Makki's finger crossed your lips, which you feel a slight gasp. But Oikawa noticed it and raised his voice. "Oh our lil cutie, so excited for our cocks aren't you?" Your head shook, but the grip on your chest gave you a jerk. Makki lifted your legs to put them on his shoulders. THAT he was with his face right in front of you. You felt his hot breath against your core. And even though you were totally against this one, your hands ran through Makki's strawberry cake colored hair to get him to finally do something. and he knew what you wanted and started to work your cunt. His tongue wandered everywhere. He practically ate you up. But it was a wonderful feeling as Oikawa's hands wandered over your whole body. Little whimpering could no longer be suppressed. Oikawa's hand wandered until he put it around your neck to squeeze lightly, until he then slipped two of his fingers into your mouth and whispered softly in your ear, "Suck" and as obdiently as you were, you did it, which gave you a simple "Good Girl", but those simple words wandered down into your core, where Makki was just still eating until he looked up at some point, chin smeared, and an amused grin on his face. Oikawa's fingers now slid down to play with your cock lips until they sank into you with a jerk. To your despair you had to groan. It was useless, you should enjoy it. And this change probably all noticed, because your grin grew now. Oikawa's pace grew faster and more hectic until you were just a groaning bunch. And just as your walls spasmed uncontrollably around his fingers and your climax was approaching, until his fingers stopped and slipped out of you.

"O-Oi-Oikawa please" you whimpered. But he just giggled. "Its Tooru my lil bunny. But be a good girl and suck my fingers clean." And so you did. Your tongue swirled around his digits, until all was nice and clean. He got up slowly to get you on your feet, but the only shivering. As soon as you were on your feet you threatened to fall over, but Matsukawa caught you directly to lead you two to the ground. He leaned against a wall while positioning you on his thigh with his hands on your hips. The pressure against your cunt was so good that you couldn't stop grind slowly against his thigh. But you couldn't do it for long, because he held you tight with his iron grip. ,,issei! Please"

" I have something much better, kitten "With that he lifted you to slide you on his not exactly small penis in one go. Damn, not only its length was too much, from the middle it got thicker and thicker, and you didn't think you could manage everything, your hands were already pressing against his chest until you finally got to the base of his cocks. A loud sigh escaped you. But before you could even open your eyes again, he lifted you up again to lead you back down in a train.

And with that this knot of pleasure tore and your climax came with a jolt. Your eyes rolled backwards, a scream left your mouth, your body ran out of strength, and your head rested on Matssun's shoulder. But he was just getting started. He took your buttocks and now moved his hips with incredible speed. "I-Issei- I can't take it anymore please" you whined. "Oh come on, one more baby." And suddenly you felt a second figure appear behind you. Your head turned wearily to look at Makki's face. He positioned himself under your second hole. "Please no more no-" "Aw come on, bunny your gonna feel amazing, just relax alright?" And very slowly you felt how he was advancing, slower than Matssun, but the pain was there anyway. To be completely filled was a strange feeling, but it was still exciting in a way. This time at a slow pace they moved the two in and out. You felt the two next to each other, separated from just one wall. The knot grew again. Completely blown away in ecstasy, you did not notice how someone was standing next to you three until your hand, which until then was still on Issei's shoulder, was placed around a cock. It was the brown-haired wing spiker iwaizumi with a small grin around the corner of his mouth. "Don't mind helping me a little my dear?" Your senses were completely gone, but you tried to drive up and down with slow movements. Swear words and moans escaped him again and again. You looked at him, his lust contorted face, until your face was turned with one hand to the other side. Oikawa looked down at you, and you knew exactly what he wanted. In one go you took him up to your throat. But it wasn't enough, it was still a few centimeters You wanted to take your head back again and start a new attempt, but your head was held tight by Oikawa. While Matssun and Makki kept going out and in, and their thrusts became more and more targeted, you had to choke Oikawa's length. He tried to push the last few centimeters in.

"Come on baby, you can do it. Yeah just like that, FUCK!" his head leaned back while his hands were still in your - now - totally confused hair. ,, Youre doing so fine bunny, next time we will destroy Karasuno a second time, a-and fuck, and next time you should come on time. Alright? "The question was hypothetical because your mouth was still around his cock. Another hard nudge from Makki tightened your throat and Oikawa howled loudly.

" Fuck do that again. " And so you did, because you didnt want to make him angry, not in that position that your in right now. Your head was finally let go. The spit ran from your mouth down to your chin to your bust. "You look so beautiful, our lil cumslut." Matssun growled, while he used a harder and faster pace with Makki. They came closer and closer to their climax, because you felt them twitching inside you. And you too came closer and closer The pressure that Matssun now put on your clit almost bursts your knot. Only a small piece was missing. "Plea-Please, I-Issei, Makki, I wanna cum please!" Did you cry now? You will regret it in retrospect, but you didn't care about anything at the moment, because the climax was within reach. Makki came first, and sank his seeds in a hard thrust in you, and waited a while until he was sure that every mililiter was in you. Now Matssun could lift you up slightly to hammer into you. The knot burst, the tears just ran from your eyes. "Too much, too much" you mumbled, due to the overstimulation. After a short time Issei came deep inside you and also made sure not to waste a mililiter. After Issei pulled herself out of you, you felt so empty. It was embarrassing, what would Dachi Kyooko or even suga say? They would cast you out. You are sleeping here with four of their arch enemies. Especially one of them, they probably all hated. You had never told them what you and Oikawa were too embarrassed about you the whole thing. And now see where you have landed. While you were not only crying from the overstimulation on the cold floor of the locker room and the cum of the two men just ran out of you, two strong arms lifted you up. But he just picked you up while he whispered in your ear: "Oh one round baby, you cant let us two all high and dry hmm?" And with that you were put on Oikawa who looked at you with a big grin. " Please, I cant tak it anymore guys.

But the two ignored your protests and penetrated you at the same time.

"Oh you can, and you will." Oikawa said while he slipped into you. Your whimper could be heard outside but there was definitely nobody there, the games are over and everyone is gone.

Your hands pressed against Oikawa's chest as you continued to protest. "Oika-" But you didn't get far because he muted you with a hard thrust.

"Call me right princess."

"Tooru, please."

,, Good girl, your so brave. come on we make it fast hmm? "

And that's where real hell began. The two went in and out alternately. Building the third orgasm was bad. You felt everything. Every vein of its length penetrating your walls. While you were wondering where they got all their power from, Oikawa pulled you down to share a lovely, almost beautiful kiss with you, but you knew what was behind this facade. The devil himself, with three helpers by his side. his tongue rammed into your mouth and quickly got the more dominant one.

When Iwaizumi also marked your neck, you had to groan again. The grip of iwaizumi on your hip got tighter, and you are sure that it would leave its mark tomorrow. After they both broke up, their pace picked up again. However, when Oikawa briefly repositioned himself a little, he hit exactly this point with the next hit, the point that got you around every time, and made you see stars. Of course, Oikawa noticed this immediately and rammed into it with all his strength.

a loud fuck escaped you while you felt the two getting closer and closer. Their lengths twitched in you. Your climax was probably not far away either, but you weren't really excited about it. He will rob your last strength that was left to you. "Fuck your so tight-" Oikawa hissed now, until you felt the final snap and the load he send inside of you.

And right after Iwas fast snap of his hips your knot of lust loosened and pelted down on you twisted, your strength that somehow left you on top went from you and with that you hit oikawa's shoulder. Your arms and legs were shaking, and you only felt Iwa pulling out of you. He must have come too. Your senses are like Blown away, you only felt the cold ground below you after Oikawa got up. You should also walk slowly, you didn't want to be around this monster any more, but your legs were shaking, so you read yourself on the bench fall, cum slowely dripping out of you. ,, Princess get these on, you don't want our gift to be lost. " He threw your underpants at you, but you'd rather wash yourself. He noticed your reluctance and raised his voice. ,,Now" With trembling hands you put on all your clothes, but Oikawa didn't throw you your top but his white turquoise jersey with the number 1.

,, uhm, Tooru, you gave me your top. "

He just laughed. ,, Of course honey, everybody should see who you belong to. Since you knew that there would be no point in protesting, you put on the slightly too large jersey.

"Oh you look adoreable!" But you just felt how all the cum flowed out of you. He put an arm around you to leave the lockeroom with you. The others are probably already before. But when you got closer to your team , they looked angrily at the one standing next to you, then at the all-too-familiar top what you were wearing.

,,Sorry people i spilled water on my top and then slipped. Luckily Oi- "you noticed the slight pressure on your hip, a sign." Tooru there. " you looked up at him with your eyes until he spoke.

"Oh yeah, your little manager chan is very clumsy, better take care of her." As he turned to leave, he whispered in your ear without anyone seeing, "Next time, you will come twice as much princess . We will not lose. " And with that he disappeared, leaving you alone with the team, while thousands of thoughts buzzed through your head about how you could escape him.

#haikyuu #matsukawa issei #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #Oikawa x reader #Yandere Oikawa #Oikawa smut #Iwaizumi smut #matsukawa smut #hanamaki smut #oikawa x you

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wicked-jade · 2 years ago

Note

13, 18 and 40 :)

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

The most emotionally difficult parts for me to write are basically any of the ones that involve Johnny and his mom. The section in "Bad Luck" where he opens up about her death was brutal to write. Anything involving emotional neglect or depression/hopelessness also strikes an uncomfortable chord. But I write it frequently anyway.

Cute, fluffy, banter-y domestic scenes are easy, though. I can write those in my sleep.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

Okay, this is a section from "I Ain't Evil (I'm Just Good Looking)":

“Well, maybe if God doesn’t want to be called a crackhead, he should put down the fucking pipe!” Daniel argued, his voice getting louder and his gestures wilder. It was a good thing Johnny was mostly sober and had excellent reflexes, because he had to duck to avoid an accidental black eye. “Like, what even is my life?” Daniel continued, warming up to a full-blown rant. “There I was, just an innocent kid from Jersey, minding my own business –”

“Oh please, like you’ve ever minded your own business!” Johnny muttered darkly, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled in for the incoming tirade.

“Bite me, Johnny,” Daniel snarked back, though without any heat. “Like I was saying, there I was, minding my own business, when my Ma up and forced me to move to this place. And what was the very first thing that happened when I got here? I became the mortal enemy of a teenage karate biker gang.”

Johnny burst out laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? A teenage karate biker gang? Really, LaRusso? That’s what you think we were? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Do you know how ridiculous you guys looked?” Daniel countered. “Look, you were teenagers. You knew karate. You rode motorbikes. And you ganged up on people you didn’t like,” Daniel reasoned, poking Johnny in the chest with each point. “Teenage. Karate. Biker. Gang.”

“I mean, to be fair, we didn’t really gang up on people in general. Mostly just nerdy little girlfriend stealing pipsqueaks from Jersey,” Johnny argued with a sly grin.

It was Daniel’s turn to roll his eyes. “You even had leather jackets with a special little club patch. You were definitely in a teenage karate biker gang, John.”

“Okay, okay!” Johnny held up his hands, conceding the point. “Biker gangs are badass, so I’ll take it as a compliment,” he added graciously.

It goes on even longer, but Daniel's drunken rant was originally the opening of an entirely different fic that I ended up scrapping. But I always liked it, especially the 'teenage karate biker gang' part, so I just lifted it out and dropped it in here. It was originally written as an internal monologue from Daniel's POV, but it worked better (and became even funnier, imo) when I changed it so he was saying it all aloud and playing off of Johnny. It's now one of my favorite bits of banter I've ever written.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

I'll be upfront: I don't write poetry. Like, I totally suck at it. And I don't really read it either. But I will share the song lyrics that basically inspired my entire Dutch/Johnny series (and gave it it's name.) They're from "Echo" by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

Someday you'll return to silence With a thousand miles of cave inside us But every time I feel the quiet It echoes you

Someday you will make it out And you'll feel the walls tearing down If there's a place where lost is found I'll wait for you, alone in that room

Thanks for the asks! 💖

#writing ask game

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lokis-army-77 · 4 years ago

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If You Please

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1644

Hi everyone this is my first fic, so please feel free to as constructive criticism.

I'm bad at writing descriptions, so this is basically a reader insert into The First Avenger and then we'll see how it goes from there.

Next>>

Masterlist

It was 1943 when my life changed dramatically. The second world war had been going on for a few years now and with Hitler quickly rising to power it felt as though every young man and woman wanted to help the war cause. This included Steve Rogers, my brother, and James 'Bucky' Barnes, my secret fiancé.

We had all grown up together in Brooklyn and later on Bucky and I started to have more romantic feelings for each other. We've been engaged for two years now but Steve still doesn't know, no one knows. We've planned to tell everyone once Bucky gets back from the war, whenever that will be. Tonight is his last night in New York before he gets shipped off with the 107th to the front.

Currently, unknown to my brother and fiancé, I am working under Agent Peggy Carter in the Strategic Scientific Reserve or SSR for short. They believe I work as a full-time secretary for one of the many recruitment offices in New York. The SSR's work dealing with Hydra is highly classified and very dangerous. Agent Carter and I are not only the only two highly regarded women here but we're both two of the youngest agents.

Now enough with the back story, let's get into how this whole mess started.

It was the day of the Stark Expo, Bucky had decided we would go there for a date and maybe a dance or two before we had to meet Steve. When I had gotten off of work at 5 pm sharp, Bucky was outside the recruitment office waiting.

"James I thought I told you not to wait for me outside of my place of work," I said to him as I walked over to him. He pulled me in close and kissed the top of my head.

"I know, but what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't come to meet my best girl?" I try to push away from him but he just holds on tighter, chin resting on the top of my head and swaying us side to side.

"Shh be quiet or someone will hear you. We definitely don't need Steve finding out we're engaged yet."

"Fine," he said, letting go of me to then grab onto my hand, "I hope you wore your dancing shoes doll because that's all we're doing until I have to let you go." I giggled and nodded as we crossed the road on our way to Queens, where the expo was being held.

"So doll, did you have a good day at work?"

"Yeah, I just filed more recruitment papers and mailed off important documents. You know, the usual." We turned a corner and headed down to the subway. We walked in a comfortable silence until we got into the subway car. "How was your day today, anything exciting happen?"

"If you call saving your brother from being pummeled to death again exciting then no. Although, seeing you this afternoon has made my day a whole lot better."

I turned to look Bucky in the eyes, "Again? What happened this time?"

"He said he was at the theater and some punk was being disrespectful to the video of the troops overseas. Steve said he spoke up to the man, but you know how that always ends up for him." He unwrapped his hand from mine to then put the same arm around my shoulders.

"I wish he'd lay low, you're not going to be here to break up the fights anymore, and you know how he gets when I try to step in and help."

"Oh one more thing, he tried to enlist again. From New Jersey this time," He chuckled and shook his head.

"I have no clue what I'm going to do with him, James. I know he wants to go fight, but I can't risk having both my best men out there. I don't know what I'd do with myself if both of you left me here." I shifted closer into Bucky's arms. "Come on, our stop is just up ahead."

When we entered the expo all I could do was stare. The lights and technology that Stark had put on display were amazing. Soon I felt a tug at my hand.

"Sweetheart come on I want to get at least one dance in before Steve shows up. I think I see a place we can go over here." Then I was quickly taken to a brightly lit dance floor where couples were gathering to dance to a slower song. Bucky slowly did a little bow and I followed with a small curtsy of my own. I couldn't keep myself from laughing. "Ma'am may I have this dance," he asked, holding his right hand out to me.

"You certainly may," I replied while placing my left hand into his outstretched one. He then wrapped his left arm around my waist and held our entwined hands upright in the air, and my right hand went to rest upon his shoulder. He smiled his signature little smirk.

Then the band started to play and we started to twirl around the dance floor.

After a minute I rested my head on Bucky's shoulder and wrapped my arm under his. "I never want this to end Buck. I'd dance with you forever if that meant you didn't have to go so far away from me."

"Oh, Doll I dread the end of this night. What am I going to do without you by my side every day," Bucky said as he gently rubbed the small of my back. "Somebody's got to go off and protect you and if that means fighting in this war, I'll gladly do it one hundred times over." He looked down at me and then kissed my temple. "Come one I think I see Steve over by the stairs." He let go of my hand and waist more quickly than I would have liked.

"Steve! Look who I found," I called and Bucky and I made our way over to the set of stairs my brother had been wandering about at. I ran over to give him a tight hug. "I heard you had a little scuffle again today and that you tried to enlist. Again." Steve stood there awkwardly and smoothed his hair back with his hand.

"Buck, I thought we agreed that we weren't gonna tell her this time," he said through his teeth at Bucky.

"Hey man it's not my fault your sister is crazy scary when she's trying to get something out of you," he said while putting his hands up in defense.

"Fair enough. But next time you tell her something like that I'll hurt you."

"I'd like to see you try there pal," Bucky retorted while trying to grab at Steve but I interjected before they could make a scene.

"Boys please act like adults, we're at a science and technology expo NOT a playground." They both stopped to look at me. I moseyed over to stand between them both and hooked my arms into theirs. I looked to the right at Bucky then to the left at Steve. "So boys, what should we look at first?"

The night progressed smoothly from there, with us going to see Stark's new flying car invention and many more new and exciting things. We laughed and joked, Bucky and Steve bickered, which I had to intervene in before it became an actual argument. Pretty soon 9 o'clock came and all three of us headed home to Brooklyn. Bucky walked with us to our door and we said our heartfelt goodbyes. After a rather tight hug, he left, strutting down the sidewalk towards his own home, but quickly turned to give a stiff-armed salute. Steve and I turned to go inside.

"Goodnight Stevie, I'll see you tomorrow," I called out down the short hall from my room. I waited for his reply before I shut my door and turned the light off. Gathering up my nightgown I slipped under the covers of my bed. It had been a good day, but the fact that Bucky was leaving in just a few hours kept coming to the forefront of my mind. I laid awake thinking of when I was ever going to see him again. At that moment the window to my room quietly creaked open. I sat up quickly reaching for the bedside lamp. When the weak yellow light filled the room Bucky was standing in the room, tangled in the curtain.

"Bucky what the hell are you doing," I whispered yelled at him.

"Well I thought I'd at least spend my last night stateside with my fiancée, but if you'd like me to leave then I will." He stated matter of factly and turned to go back out the way he had come.

"No don't go," I crawled over to the edge of the bed and reached for his hand, "You just surprised me is all. You haven't come through my window since we were kids." He laughed and let me pull him up to the head of the bed. He fell not so gracefully onto the sheets and swaddled me up close to his chest. I could smell the soap on his skin and the freshness of his nightshirt. I could hear the beat of his heart loudly in my ear as I started to drift off.

"Will you wake me up before you go," I questioned, snuggling further into his chest.

He was quiet for a long time, just laid there with his right hand playing with the ends of my hair. Then he nodded silently and gave the top of my head a long kiss goodnight. "I love you Doll," he mumbled into my hair.

"I love you too Sweetheart," I replied almost quietly enough to not hear.

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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curatedbyhatto · 2 years ago

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Fool in Utopia - Blacklight

Good morning! This week's song is called 'Blacklight' from the US artist 'Fool in Utopia' (because of time constraints, the video will be/was published on a different day than this post)

Hello! It has been an amazing, a bit stressing but wonderful week for me, and I hope the same applies for you! My birthday was on Thursday, everyone at worked wished me a happy birthday, as well as my friends and family, and to be honest, I love it. On Sunday, my girlfriend and my friends threw a surprise party for me and I cried internally with joy. It was brutal, they got me a Minecraft cake and Floppa cupcakes, some hot snacks, and LASAGNA. You can see more on my instagram profile.

Also, work has been hard, ngl, I started production this week and it's... a lot; but I've managed, we've all managed. And Kasia, my support coach has been amazing. More so because she's there when I panic.

However, back to what we're here for, the music. This week's song is such a freaking masterpiece. So, what about the artist?

About the artist

'Fool in Utopia' is the pseudonym of Texas (USA) based artist 'Marc Rodriguez' (though he's originally from New Jersey). He started playing cello back when he was in fifth grade, then became drummer for 'The Frites'.

However they eventually started college (Marc is currently studying vision science at UIW), got separate ways, and that's when he really discovered his path with 'Fool in Utopia', singing his poems over his ukelele playing.

He cited twenty øne piløts as his biggest inspo (would you look at that, my favorite band too.)

Because of this desire to move further with the project Marc learnt how to produce his own music. Marc started publishing in 2018, with the release of his debut EP 'Eu'

After that, the release of his self titled debut album came, this in March 2019, and 'Blacklight' was there again. This album was produced in his college dorm room, by himself.

Then came all the other releases up to today, including 4 singles (lemon, isla blue, broken hearted boys and keep my head straight) which would later be featured in the June 2022's album 'Arcadia' (which you should also listen too!)

Marc has said the following about his 'Fool in Utopia' project:

"In this perfect place, in this utopia, we grow and we learn; and we try to understand the world around us; a place with ideas, with lessons, with the truth. The truth behind my name is that I feel as if this path, this lifestyle, isn't the one that is as perfect as it could be."

"This idea of 'Fool in Utopia' expresses how we each have a say in how our future turns out, how we are the fools that turn around to look at what this utopia is supporting and what this utopia wants us to be. We don't have to remain confined in this everlasting cycle of concrete floors and contained greenery."

Marc is on social media, like instagram, twitter, and facebook, and of course soundcloud, spotify and youtube. He also has a website for the project (and you should definitely check it out.)

About the song

'Blacklight has appeared on 2 different releases:

In his first EP, 'Eu', as the first of three tracks.

In his debut album, also named 'Fool in Utopia'; this time as the second track.

If I remember correctly, I found the song thanks to an Instagram ad (and trust me when I say I have discovered amazing music like that, from Dansu to Castlecomer, a lot of amazing stuff.)

It was an instant match. The vocals, the uke, the latinamerican percussions, EVERYTHING. I burnt the song. I played it over and over and then the whole album and then I followed Marc and- you get it.

Meaning

'Blacklight (basically) talks about a breakup (or death of a girlfriend) in a very poetic way. Explaining how people act like they don't care about what others feel, and how they make others feel. Deep lyrics, to be honest. Like them. Feel them.

Sources (except the ones already listed on text) 'Afton Emerging Artist: Fool in Utopia' an article in 'afton'3 'Take a listen to 'Fool in Utopia' a column in 'LOGOS' (UIW newspaper) 'Listen To Fool in Utopia New Album' an article on 'VISUAL ATELIER 8'

Gallery

#curated by hatto: the music #indie #independent #music #alternative #rock #latin rythms #obscure #unknown

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dreaminae · 3 years ago

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We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 15

Sure, distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it also drives the brain aloof. Or so, that was Liv's take on her current situation. Almost four weeks went by since the big family dinner blowout where Billy and Jordan learned of Liv's drinking. Four weeks since her father's overwhelming disappointment swallowed Olivia whole with a growing fear of being sent away for help once more. Four weeks since her fear led to Liv, running away for help from the one person who she hadn't been in contact with for months -- her sponsor. And four weeks since Liv was giving a large wake-up call when she found her former sponsor behind bars for attempting to steal from her very own parents.

That night Olivia saw what could be her possible future if she didn't receive proper treatment while she still had the chance. Despite her fear of being sent away, she returned home after hours of dodging calls and texts from her loved ones. She walked into her home ready to accept the help, no matter the consequences. And perhaps that why fate played into her hands.

Fore when Olivia returned home, she found both her parents welcomed her with open arms, simply content that she was alright. Following the long night, Liv was surprised to find her family already with a suitable compromise. Instead of shipping her away, Billy and Laura decided upon an intensive program that allowed Liv to remain at home while she recovered.

Later into that evening, Spencer dropped by for what they both knew would be their last moment together for a long term. Acknowledging that they both had things to work on, they agreed to delay their romance until they were both in a good place to be together for real. They weren't breaking up or taking back the feelings they once declared. No, they were -- as Liv put it that night -- 'playing the long game'. Sealing their goodbye with a heartfelt kiss, they parted ways.

Focused on her recovery, Olivia found a new sponsor and confidant in Nurse Joy. Admitting her dependency upon Alcohol, and accepting responsibility for falling off the wagon, Olivia began her road to recovery. Meanwhile, Spencer centered his time on football and plotting his plan to bring Crenshaw a state championship.

Ignoring their constant desire to be together they cut off all physical communication, choosing to stick to the everyday messages to check in on one another. It wasn't until the night of Jordan's second concussion they were able to be in each other's arms.

Utilizing each other as helping shoulder through damaging announcement of Jordan's future in football, they found comfort in their buried affections. Having each other's back when Simone dropped the marriage reveal, Spencer and Liv supported each other when confronted by Billy and Laura.

The secret marriage only adding to Liv's troubled life as Laura grounded her into the next century for her deceit. Life toppled their trivial matter with the death of Tamika, shaking Olivia's inner social justice warrior to its full-frontal.

From leaking footage of Tamika's wrongful death to protesting for the indictment of the guilty officers, Liv found something bigger to be a part of. Her best intentions leading to backfire as Laura took the heat of alleged bigoted D.A. Learning to accept her mistakes, Liv tried to make the best of a complicated issue.

She and Kia's devotion to cause, sparking Spencer to follow suit, persuading his team to take a knee during their most important game. Inspiring by the Crenshaw team their opponents took a knee in protest. As a result of more football teams following Crenshaw's players in taking a knee, Crenshaw was granted another shot at the state championship.

Everything seemed to play into Liv and Spencer's hands, except the main thing they both desired since summer. It was all in a matter of timing, and they both couldn't help but anticipate when that moment would finally arrive.

So when they found themselves planning a surprise party in honor of Spencer's mom earning her college degree, the anticipation rose to a new peak.

"So no gouging out my eyes?" Liv playfully joked, allowing herself to make a joke of the foolish comments people were making about her online.

Spencer scoffed as if insulted. "What, those pretty eyes? You crazy." His eyes drifted from the direction of her eyes to her lips.

Olivia smiled softly as he quickly shifted back to their original conversation, unsure if now was the right time for them to share that type of moment. "You gon' help me fix this came or what?" He questioned with a crooked grin.

"Yes," Liv replied with a cheeky grin as she hopped from her seat, wondering how long he'd wait to make a move.

The next hour and a half flew by with them baking the cake while making basic small talk to catch up with one another. They discussed Liv's daily meeting with nurse joy and how her recovery was coming. Liv caught Spencer up on Jordan's everyday hobbies since his time away from football, while Spencer tried his best not to admit to Liv that he was aiding in Jordan's desire to return to football. Their topics switched until they circled back to Spencer's upcoming game against Westlake, and how Olivia punishment lifted just in time for her to come see him play.

"You'll be my personal cheering section." Spencer goofed as he iced the bare cake.

"Of course. I'll be decked in your jersey number and sporting Crenshaw colors all night." Liv giggled, imaging herself ornamented in Spencer James merchandising. "I'll be shouting the loudest. Go, Spencer! Kick some Westlake ass!" She shouted cheerfully, causing Spencer to chuckle.

"And what about I finish kicking Westlake's ass?" He wondered aloud. "Do I get a prize?" He inquired with a lifted brow.

"You'll have won the state championship for Crenshaw and saved your school. What more could I give you?" Liv snickered, sipping her lemonade.

"I can think of a few things." Spencer flirted causing Liv's cheeks to redden as she swallowed her refreshment.

The knocking of the front door interrupted their flustered juncture. "I'm should...um..you know..."

"Don't worry, I will still be here when you get back." He chuckled towards her rattled nature.

He frosted the cake as Liv dealt with a package delivery on behalf of the coach baker. Shortly after leaving the package in the living room, she rrutrned. Her reserved nature now contained after she took a moment to compose herself.

She returned to the kitchen with more pep in her step resolved with knowing that the moment she and Spencer both delayed was finally arriving, and all she had to do was lead it.

Eyeing Spencer with a twinkle in her eye she cheekily leaned over close to his direction, dipping her finger in the canned frosting. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She inquired sassily, catching his attention as she strutted a few feet around the counter.

"Girl, you know I got skills." He responded cockily, earning a snicker from Liv as she shut the refrigerator to from putting leftover baking ingredients.

"Hey, I was thinking that we should have that graduation won't playing at my mom's party," Spencer suggested, humming his ideal tune aloud.

Olivia listened to the tune with a puzzled expression. "Umm, that's the wedding song."

Spencer eyed her strangely, confused as to how he got the two melodies muddled.

Giving him a sympathetic grin, Liv rubbed his arm, comforting him. "Hmm, you'll get it." She laughed as Spencer twisted his face in slight embarrassment. "It's okay." She added jokingly.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer gestured down to the finished cake. "Well, what do you think?"

Liv analyzed the frosted cake, impressed by how well it came out. "It's good." She complimented with growing suspicion. "Like really good." She added, smirking at Spencer. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Maybe like once for my moms birthday..." He dragged out, sensing that his cover was blown as he smiled crookedly. "And maybe all of Dillion's birthdays." He admitted, redhandedly causing Olivia to laugh.

"Alright, you caught me." Spencer chuckled, then grew serious. "N'all but, I just wanted to get your mind off everything." He confessed wholeheartedly, hating the low amounts of times he witnessed a real smile from Liv over the last few weeks.

"You did," Olivia assured him, touched that Spencer went found the energy to help her through the day's mess, even though she was meant to be helping him today. "You made me feel a lot better." She added, wanting him to know that his intentions were highly effective.

Spencer simply nodded, content to help in any way he could.

Liv smiled thinking back to how their last few hours together reminded her of the summer they spent together. No matter if it dumb shows or extended time at the mall shopping, Spencer remained glue to her hip just to make Liv happy. If he noticed she was having a bad day, he'd make a stupid joke to make her laugh. When she felt alone and needed someone to talk to, Spencer spent hours on the phone with her. When she felt like crumbling, he was always the rock that steadily held her up.

"You've done that before too." Olivia slipped out, letting her affection take over. Her eyes darted to his with a knowing twinkle.

Spencer observed her stature, finding Olivia in control and sure of herself. She beamed gently with a slight tilt of her head as if waiting to see what he would do next. She wanted to know if he still wanted her, and this was her way of conveying her yearning for him. With an assured confirmation that she was ready, Spencer took this as his cue.

Without saying another word he walked towards Liv, ready to give in to their passions. His head tilted in the opposing direction of Liv's as they both leaned in to close the small space between them.

However, right when their lips were about to meet Spencer's phone buzzed. Spencer grunted under his breath, annoyed by the bad timing, but reached for his phone nonetheless. Liv sucked in a tight breath, frustrated by another halted moment.

Remaining with barely an inch separating them, Liv took matters into her own hands. Literally.

"Spence," Liv mumbled, topping the hand that held his phone with the palm of her hand to gain his attention. His phone continued to buzz, as Spencer gave Olivia his awareness. "Yeah."

"It'll still be there afterward." Liv sighed with an unsure smile, gently pulling his phone out of hand. Her finger dragged across the screen, rejecting the call. "But I'm right here. Right now." She remarked, locking eyes with him, lust emitting from her own. "And I don't know about you but I'm tired of waiting." She snickered sassily, earning a smirk from Spencer.

Liv eyes danced from Spencer's brown orbs, falling to his lips, then back to his eyes. Cupping his face, she brought his lips to hers for a kiss that was weeks in the making.

#3x07 #all american #olivia and spencer #olivia baker #spelivia #spencer and olivia #spencer james #All America 3.14

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